World Memorial

by Robert R. Best

  Maylee turned back to claw at the snow, her hands sliding uselessly over the slick ice.

  From above she heard Dalton yelling through the groans and growing wind. "Maylee! Where are you?"

  "Here!" yelled Maylee as a new idea occurred to her. She brought her bat up and slammed into the ice. The nails dug in and held the bat in place. Maylee began to pull herself up.

  Hissing came from below her. Still holding the bat, Maylee looked down and behind her. The woman had pulled herself from the snow. She had both hands free now, and was clawing at Maylee. Dead fingers closed on Maylee's pants. The woman groaned and pulled.

  Maylee's grip came loose and she fell back into the grave. The woman groaned and leaned in to bite. Maylee shoved herself away and grabbed the bat. She wrenched it free from the wall and slammed down on the woman. The woman jerked and fell back into the snow. Black ooze seeped from cracks in the woman’s forehead but she kept moving.

  "Fuck me, you're hard headed," said Maylee, panting down at her. She stomped down with her boot, pushing the woman further down. The woman hissed and bit at Maylee, but was too buried to move.

  Maylee turned back to the grave walls. She swung upward at the ice, just as Dalton appeared at the edge.

  "Whoa!" he said, jumping back as the nails thudded into the ice inches from him. "Watch it!"

  "Dalton!" yelled Maylee, letting go of the bat and reaching up for him. "Give me a hand and hurry! There's one down here!"

  Dalton dropped to his knees. "Crap! Here!"

  He reached down to grab Maylee's upraised arms and pulled. Maylee, surprised at how strong her little brother had become, dug her feet into the ice and started climbing.

  "I thought you said they all climbed out," said Dalton, grunting with the effort.

  "This one must have fallen in and—”

  "And got snowed on so much she couldn't get out?"

  "No one said they were fucking geniuses. Pull!"

  Dalton did. Maylee kicked at the walls as Dalton pulled backward. A few more inches and she was out, on her knees in the snow. The wind was howling now. Dalton stood while she turned around on her knees to retrieve her bat. She pulled it from the ice, stood, and looked around. The corpses were close. So was the church.

  "We gotta move."

  A huge gust of wind tore through the graveyard, nearly knocking them over. The corpses groaned and stumbled in the wind.

  "Maylee..."

  "Scratch that," said Maylee. The trees at the edge of the field began to shake. “Down!"

  Both she and Dalton fell flat on the snow as the windstorm started. The wind howled and roared overhead, shaking headstones and drowning out the groans.

  The wind whipped around the graves, changing direction every few seconds. Maylee pressed herself downward as hard as she could, digging her fingers into the snow. Even with her gloves on, her digits were freezing. She could hear Dalton shouting next to her but couldn't make out his words. Corpses were falling and sliding through the snow, moving in every direction.

  Daltons screamed louder. Maylee lifted her head higher, straining against the wind. Ice pelted and stung her face. She finally found Dalton. He was further away than when the storm had started, telling Maylee he'd already lost his hold once. The wind tore at him, whipping him this way and that. One headstone, ancient and heavy, started to topple towards him. Dalton screamed and let go of the ground. The wind shoved him toward Maylee.

  Maylee let go with one hand and grabbed his arm. The force almost tore her arm off. She tried to hold on with her free hand but couldn't. Her hand came free and they both went sliding across the snow, buffeted in so many directions that Maylee lost track. The wind howled and whistled among the graves. Corpses slid around them, groaning and hissing as they passed.

  Maylee screamed into the chaos, waiting for the moment they collided with a corpse or fell into another grave.

  * * *

  Sister Elizabeth played the last chords of another hymn. The flock finished the last note of their singing. Several had hands in the air, praising God and weeping openly. The joy was back and Brother Joel rejoiced to see it.

  He let the moment linger. People whispered and prayed, holding out their hands to God. Fervent mutterings of "Praise Jesus" and "Thank you God" filled the room. It gave Brother Joel chills, even after all these years.

  A few moments passed. The prayers and praise died down. The corpses groaned from their chains on the walls. Brother Joel stepped forward, wiping honest tears from his eyes.

  "Brothers and Sisters," said Brother Joel, "God has given us this moment."

  "Amen," said a Sister in the crowd.

  "But more than this, God has given us dreams and visions. Sister Elizabeth was the first to get the message."

  "Praise Jesus," said a Brother.

  "She saw the special ones. The children. The lost lambs who God has given us that we may have His blessing. That we may have power and dominion over the rotting flesh that threatens to swarm this world."

  "Amen!"

  “And He gave us the understanding. The understanding of the deep things of His word. The deep wonders of its meaning. What was hidden to others, has been revealed unto us. Us, Brothers and Sisters!"

  "Praise God!"

  "Yes," said Joel, "Praise God." He looked to the two men who had helped him set up the room earlier. "Brothers, bring the child."

  The two men moved quickly but quietly to a second side room in the back of the sanctuary. Sister Elizabeth played a wandering, contemplative version of the last hymn. While the flock raised their hands and praised God, the two men quietly entered the side room.

  A few seconds of music and praise passed. The men returned, leading a young boy with them. The young boy was dressed in a worn but clean white robe, his hands clasped in front of him, covered by long sleeves. Zach was his name. Brother Joel made sure to learn their names. They were all so special. So important.

  He smiled at Zach as they led him up the sanctuary. Zach was scared. The corpses chained to the walls groaned and pulled against their bonds. The people saw Zach and rejoiced. Brother Joel's smile grew. His heart swelled. Zach was one of the children from Sister Elizabeth's visions. Truly God had blessed them.

  "Up here, little one," said Brother Joel. The two men brought Zach to the steps that led to the pulpit. Zach glared up at Brother Joel.

  "Oh, don't be afraid, child," said Brother Joel. "You are the most precious person in this room."

  "I don't want to be," said Zach, not dropping his glare. His voice was low, low enough that the others couldn't hear. Brother Joel was glad for that.

  "Many are called but few are chosen, child," said Brother Joel.

  "I don't care," said Zach.

  Brother Joel's smile almost faltered. He directed it to the two men at Zach's sides. "Help the child up, won't you Brothers?"

  The two men led Zach up the stairs. Brother Joel was glad the flock couldn't see Zach struggle. The flock did not need to see. They needed to be ready to receive the blessing.

  The two men positioned Zach next to Brother Joel. Brother Joel put a hand on the boy's head. Zach tried to pull away, but the two men held him by the shoulders.

  "Brothers and Sisters," said Brother Joel, raising his voice so the flock could hear. "Let us rejoice."

  "Amen!"

  "Praise the Lord!"

  "Before our Lord was to be made an offering for our sins, he gathered his people together. And he fed them. But as he fed them, he told them things that must have seemed like lunacy at the time."

  "Praise Jesus!"

  "This bread is my body, this wine is my blood! What could it mean, Brothers and Sisters? What could it mean?"

  "Amen!"

  "The answer, of course, became clear later. The Lord was to be no longer with us in body, but would be with us in spirit. And we can share in His power, His glory, by eating and drinking of the Holy Supper. Of Communion" And here Brother Joel nodded to two Sisters in the flock, sitting in the fr
ont most left pew. They hurried to the pulpit.

  "Praise the Lord!" said a Sister in the flock.

  "And there were those who said it was just wine and just bread," Brother Joel continued. "And they said it stopped with our Lord. They said it was just a metaphor. But the deep things of the Lord are hidden from fools!"

  The two Sisters made their way to the large wooden cross at the back of the pulpit. They undid the latches that held it in place and lowered it down, laying it across the floor.

  Brother Joel raised his voice higher. "The devil has made the dead walk. The devil has tried to destroy God's people. But he has failed."

  "Amen!"

  "For God Almighty has placed power in these children, just like precious Zach here." Brother Joel took his hand from Zach's head and used it to indicate the child.

  "Praise the Lord!"

  "God has given this boy power over the dead. As a sign and a testament to His unimaginable power."

  "Praise Jesus!"

  Brother Joel held up both hands. The flock fell silent. "And, He has given us the template for how to unlock it for ourselves."

  The two men led Zach to the cross. They forced him to his knees and laid him back across the wood. They pulled the sleeves back from Zach's wrists and undid the rope that had bound his hands together. The stretched out both his arms and tied them to either side of the crossbeam. They tied his feet to the bottom. They moved quickly and expertly, barely hindered by Zach's struggles.

  "Stop it!" yelled Zach.

  "Praise God!" yelled a Brother in the flock.

  The two Brothers and two Sisters lifted the cross up, Zach and all. Zach struggled and cried out. Sister Elizabeth began playing a beautiful melody of praise. The flock praised God, weeping with joy.

  The men and women latched the cross back in place, Zach struggling against the straps the whole time. Sister Elizabeth played and the people wept. The corpses groaned from the walls.

  Brother Joel walked to his right and picked up a small wooden footstool. He carried it over and set it next to the cross. He paused for a moment to feel the Spirit swell within him and the others. Truly God was there. Then he stepped up the footstool until his head was level with Zach's chest.

  Sister Elizabeth stopped playing. Zach grunted and struggled against the straps that held him. The cross rocked but stayed in place. The flock whispered thanks and praise. The corpses groaned from their chains.

  When a suitable hush had settled, Brother Joel continued. "And so here we are, Brothers and Sisters, in this most holy of moments."

  "Amen," said a Sister in the flock. Quiet, reverent.

  Without being asked, one of the two women who'd readied the cross went to the lectern. She opened a compartment and produced a worn, wooden box. It warmed Brother Joel's heart to see her devotion. She held the box up to Brother Joel and smiled.

  Brother Joel smiled back and opened the box. He turned back to the flock. "Please, all of you. Look deep within yourselves. And if you find anything you fear is unworthy of the gift you are about to receive, take a moment to confess it to our Lord and receive his forgiveness."

  The flock prayed quietly. Brother Joel reached into the box and produced a worn wooden goblet. He handed it to the man closest to him, who took it reverently. Brother Joel paused, giving the people time. Zach struggled and whimpered. Sister Elizabeth played, her rapturous notes drowning out Zach's cries.

  Sensing the moment was right, Brother Joel reached back into the box. He produced a small mallet and two large iron nails. He gestured to the man with the goblet, who carried it over to the cross and held it up under one side of the cross-beam.

  "Stop it!" yelled Zach.

  "Praise the Lord!" said someone in the flock.

  Brother Joel raised one of the nails to Zach's palm. Zach tried to close his hand, tried to grab the nail, but Joel pushed until Zach cried out and held his hand limp.

  "Stop it!" yelled Zach. "Please stop it!"

  The music swelled and the people swooned. Brother Joel brought the hammer up and drove the nail into Zach's palm.

  Zach screamed and blood pooled around the nail. Brother Joel struck the nail again, driving it deeper. Blood ran free. Zach jerked and screamed. Blood fell into the goblet. Joel stepped off the stool and carried it to the other side of the cross. He climbed back up, took the second nail and drove it into Zach's other palm. Zach screamed, tears running down his cheeks. The blood ran freely from both hands now. The man with the goblet collected as much as he could manage.

  Brother Joel nodded to the man. He stepped away, allowing Zach's blood to fall freely to the wood floor. The man held the goblet up for the flock to see.

  Brother Joel raised his voice above the piano and the praising of the flock. "This is his blood, given for you!"

  "Amen!"

  "Praise the Lord!"

  Zach whimpered and cried, pulling against the nails and crying in pain. Blood ran past his fingers as he struggled. The woman with the box carried it over to Joel. He reached into the box and pulled out a long knife. Years ago it had been one of many humble utensils in the church kitchen, used for untold potlucks and wedding celebrations. Now it had such a holy purpose Brother Joel felt almost unworthy to hold it. He gazed at the blade, feeling his heart fill with joy.

  "Your servant thanks you, Lord," said Brother Joel, quietly. A low prayer sent up to God. Then he brought the knife to Zach's forearm and sliced lengthwise. Zach shrieked. The knife was sharp and little effort was required. He sliced free a large chunk of Zach's arm and held the flesh aloft. It was warm and bloody in his hand.

  Brother Joel raised his voice, feeling he would burst from joy. "And this is his body! Take it and eat!"

  "Praise Jesus!" yelled several in the flock.

  "Amen!"

  "Come, Brother and Sisters," said Brother Joel, lowering the flesh and smiling. "Take and eat."

  * * *

  All Maylee knew was chaos and wind, groaning and ice. It was like a nightmare. The wind wouldn't stop, whipping them around the snow and graves. Her hand held tight to Dalton's, but it was slipping and she knew she would soon lose him. Where were they? Where were the corpses? How long did they have left before—

  Suddenly Maylee's back smacked into something hard and sturdy. Bricks. A wall. Dalton's hands slipped out of hers. She grabbed for it, but snow buffeted into her, carried by the wind. She held up her arms, screaming for Dalton. The snow kept coming, pounding her back against the wall. Seconds went by as the snow grew around her. Soon it covered her. All she saw was white. The wind howled, muffled and sounding further away by the second.

  Then it was over. The wind died and Maylee sputtered into the snow around her.

  Maylee dug herself out as quickly as she could. Her chest pounded. She was certain that every handful of slush she grabbed would be a corpse waiting to bite. She wanted to take a breath but snow blocked the way. After a few panicked seconds, she broke through to the open air. The air was bitter and cold but she gulped it down greedily.

  The wall she'd hit belonged to the church. Snow was packed against it, almost to the window set a few inches to her right. Dalton was nowhere in sight. The corpses were digging themselves out, about fifty feet from where she had landed. Their progress was slow but relentless. Maylee knew she had a few minutes, tops, to find Dalton and get out of there.

  "Dalton!" Maylee brushed snow from her face. She saw her bat a few inches from her, sunk into the snow. She picked it up and continued scanning the mounds of snow around her.

  "Dalton!" she called out again.

  "Here!" came his voice, a foot or two to her left. He was digging himself free, sputtering in the snow. Maylee tried to step over, but the snow was too high. She started shoving it aside with her bat while Dalton made it to his feet.

  "Crap," he said, seeing the corpses.

  "I see them," said Maylee. She dug at the snow with her bat, and found herself wishing that her favorite weapon had been a shovel. "Just let me clear a p
ath and we can get in the window over there."

  The corpses groaned, dragging themselves through the snow. They had no concern for their own comfort or safety, which gave them a speed Maylee couldn't match. They pressed in steadily from all sides, clawing at the snow or crawling over the top of it.

  "The church?"

  "That's the idea," said Maylee, still digging.

  "But aren't they the ones after Zach? After me?"

  "It's either them or, well, them," she said, nodding at the corpses. "There are human beings in the church, Dalton. We can deal with human—"

  A scream came from the window, muffled by the glass but piercing. The voice was high pitched, like a woman. Or a child.

  Maylee stopped, a chill going up her back that the cold wind could not account for. She quickly glanced at the corpses around them. She had a few minutes yet. She turned to look in the window.

  She felt blood drain from her face.

  Inside she saw the sanctuary. She'd been in a few small churches as a child and knew the layout. On the stage she saw a large wooden cross from which Zach hung, red smears holding him in place. Maylee blinked and realized there were nails driven through his small hands, pinning him to the wood. Blood dripped from around the nails as he struggled weakly against them.

  Strips of his flesh had been cut off, long pieces revealing raw red meat underneath. They weren't the ragged tears she'd seen from corpses for years now. These were clean, neat strips. Like someone slicing through meat at dinner. Blood soaked through a white robe that was draped over most of him. Every exposed part was sliced open. Zach screamed again.

  "Maylee..." said Dalton's voice behind her. She knew why. She knew the corpses were getting closer, but she couldn't take her eyes off what she was seeing.

  People surrounded the stage. Maylee knew they were people, living people. She could tell by how they moved. They didn't have the mindless jerking that the corpses did. They moved with purpose and clarity. They walked to the stage, one at a time and knelt. A man in a suit—the pastor, Maylee assumed—held a silver platter adorned with strips of raw meat. Maylee knew it was from Zach and felt bile rising. The flock knelt and the pastor handed them each a strip of meat. The flock took the pieces and ate, solemnly, with reverence. Blood dribbled down their chins. Zach's blood.