by DeWitt, Dan
"Oh." He heard Rachel chuckling in the backseat.
"What? It was a fair question."
"Shh, the two of you. Get down," the nun said as she turned off her headlights and crouched down behind the wheel. They pulled up the driveway and around back. The parking lot, like all of the others, had zombies wandering around, looking for something to go after. The nun let her foot off of the gas entirely and just let the car move at a snail's pace, trying to look not delicious. Most of the zombies noticed them at some point, but quickly lost interest.
She stopped next to a sturdy-looking pair of double wooden doors. She inched forward, checking her position multiple times before stopping completely. "Are you two ready?" Her passengers nodded. "Okay, this gets a little scary." She started to turn away from them, but her eyes didn't move. She gazed back and forth between them, seeing them for the first time in the same way that Ethan had seen her a few minutes before. "Then again, maybe this will be as shocking for you two as getting the mail."
She unlocked the doors and said, "You get out with me, little lady, and open that door."
"What do I do?"
"You follow me out and get the right door. Don't worry about the paint job."
"Got it."
"Now!"
The two women climbed out and were spotted immediately by a handful of zombies, but one would have been enough to bring them all. Ethan scrambled out after them.
Rachel did as she was told and opened the left door. She slammed it into the rear passenger door, and wedged it in as best she could. Ethan did the same, not a moment too soon. Yet again, they found themselves besieged by zombies. At least this time they had a little protection provided by the heavy doors. Zombies began to pound against the makeshift barricade and the far side of the car, as well. While they still had the physical ability to get over the roof, they didn't realize they had it, so they just piled up several deep and posed no threat at the moment. Ethan dug in and was sure he could hold the ones on his side off for a short time, but he worried about Rachel. She was tough, no doubt, but this was a raw power thing. Proving one more time that she was not to be underestimated, she got low, braced her shoulder, dug her feet in, and held just as well as he did.
For her part, the nun was in between the two of them, working a key into the lock of the internal set of doors. She unlocked it with no problem and threw them open. "Okay, when I say, just let go of the doors and hurry inside! The creatures will close them for us! Ready! Let go!"
The nun held the inner doors open as the other two sprinted through them. She was right; the weight and momentum of the zombies slammed the doors shut with a thunderous sound. The separate factions joined at the double doors and pounded to no avail. She locked the outer doors, then the inner ones. "Don't worry. They'll lose interest soon; those doors will hold until they do. Let me look at you."
She held Rachel by the shoulders and moved her long black hair out of her face. "How are you, young lady?"
"I'm okay. Really tired."
"Hungry?"
"God, yes." She seemed to be embarrassed by her apparent blasphemy. "I'm sorry."
"No reason to be. Head on up those stairs and talk to the minister. You'll be taken care of."
Rachel looked to Ethan. The nun smiled. "He'll be right behind you. I need a big, brawny lad like him to move a few heavy things before he gets a break."
"It's okay, babe. Please get some rest. Would you...?"
She read his mind. "I'll look for them." He kissed her and sent her on her way. He watched her struggle up the stairs. Now that they had reached sanctuary, the adrenaline had worn off, and the extent of her fatigue was manifesting itself. Ethan knew exactly how she felt, but he kept faking it as best he could.
"Now, young man..."
"Ethan Holt."
"Ethan, Nice to meet you, I'm Sister Ann McCourt. Do you have something you need to tell me?"
"Uh, peace be with you?"
"Very amusing, and also with you. Try again."
He held out his left arm and pulled the sleeve up again. The bite marks had begun to bruise. Sister Ann grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him under a light, where she peered at it for more than a minute. "You never bled? Not even a drop?"
"No."
"How sure are you?"
He grinned. “Swear to God.”
"Good. The minister and I think it's transmitted through bites."
Ethan nodded. "That's what we've seen, too."
"And how are you doing?"
"I'm fine."
"I mean it."
"I said I'm fine."
"Of course you are. Why don't you come upstairs and be fine while you eat and sleep?"
He nodded again. "I'll be right up." Sister Ann cast him a doubting look. He countered with a weak smile. "I will. I just need a few minutes."
"Okay. Don't be too long. I want to pick your brains. Pun intended." She stopped on the first stair. "And Ethan?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't need to know exactly what you've gone through, but I know that you've done well. You've earned some rest."
He nodded, and she disappeared.
He slumped back against the heavy inner door. Only a few inches separated him from the zombies pounding on the door, but he felt no threat that they could budge the outer door a millimeter, let alone break it down. He put his palms to his eyes in anticipation of crying, but no tears came. All he felt was that he could sleep for a week.
That was just the first day. He took a few deep breaths and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, hoping against hope that there would be another message waiting for him, but the most recent was still the last. His eyes wandered to the clock.
That can't be right.
He confirmed the time with his wristwatch.
Just under three hours. That's how fast things went to complete shit.
He sighed and headed upstairs. The main part of the church was a hive of activity. Some people were dozing in the pews, whereas others were snacking on the food that Ethan presumed had been left in the kitchen. Ethan was pleased to see that there were at least 15 survivors; whether or not they had already been in the church when the madness started, or had fought through it to get here like he and Rachel had, he didn't know. All that mattered is that they weren't alone anymore.
A woman walked up to him and offered him a bottled water and a bag of chips. His hands didn't have to be told to accept them, and he had a mouthful of salt and vinegar chips five seconds later. The woman had a slightly amused look on her face.
After Ethan swallowed, he said, "That was rude. Sorry. I'm just, you know."
"No apologies necessary. It's my pleasure to help out those who find themselves in my church."
My church. "You're the minister?"
"Denise Lunn. You were expecting a man?"
"Not really. Maybe a little. It just took a second to register."
"Happens all the time. Look, I want you to get some rest. That's not a request. When you're ready, I want you to come find me, because we're doing some intelligence gathering on these things, and the good Sister said you've got some firsthand experience."
"You could say that."
"Excellent. Your girlfriend is," she pointed over his shoulder, "there. I'm sorry, but I haven't seen your parents yet."
"Thanks. I just need an hour or so to get my legs back under me."
"An hour. Will do."
Ethan trudged over to where Rachel was nodding off. He sat down and put his arms around her. She didn't entirely wake up as she nestled into his chest. He dropped his brave face without knowing it. For a moment, he was just a scared little boy who missed his Mommy and Daddy.
* * *
Ethan and Rachel sat side-by-side at long serving table in the kitchen. Denise and Sister Ann sat at the heads on either end, and two men whom Ethan hadn't yet met sat across from them. Ethan had woken up only a few minutes ago; his planned one-hour nap had turned into just over nine. Denise made no apologies. "Yo
u needed your rest. Now freshen up and meet me in the kitchen."
Sister Ann made the introductions. The other two men were Harold and Jason. Ethan found their story kind of funny. Harold was Catholic, Jason was Methodist. They had just left Jason's services to go to Harold's when the zombies happened, so they hightailed it back to the First Methodist. They were the only reason why this church hadn't been taken, as well. They'd barricaded the doors immediately in front of the remaining confused congregation, and had recognized a zombie as it had turned and managed to lock it in the women's room before it spread its infection.
"And it's still in there?"
"With about three tons of furniture blocking the door, yep. Haven't heard a peep in a while," Harold said.
"Maybe it's dead," Jason said.
"I doubt it. More than likely it's just forgotten about you."
"Why do you say that, Rachel?" Denise asked.
Rachel told about how they'd seen with their own eyes how the things would eventually lose interest if they lost contact.
"That's good to know," Sister Ann said.
"So, if we stay here and stay quiet, we should be okay, right?" Jason struck Ethan as the more nervous of the two. He also suspected that the two men were lover, not that he cared, especially under the current circumstances.
"From them, maybe. But we don't have much food here. We can't stay forever."
Jason shrunk in his chair, deflated. Harold looked like he wanted to comfort him, but restrained himself. Ethan noticed, and thought that everyone else might have, too.
Sister Ann confirmed it. "Harold, we're all in this together. No need to pretend anymore."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Harold. You two aren't really fooling anyone."
Harold looked at each person at the table individually. Ethan said, "Dude, seriously...no one cares."
Harold put his arm around his lover and pulled him closer. Jason started sobbing.
Rachel said, "I propose a break."
The four of them got up and gave the men the room.
As they walked through the pews, Denise said, "They really haven't had any time to recharge themselves. I mean, this situation is screwed up enough without feeling you can't be who you are."
Sister Ann nodded.
Rachel noticed. "You knew, too?"
"I did."
"And you never said anything? You don't have a problem with it?"
"Problem? No. But I am...conflicted. My religion says one thing, my faith says another. What matters to me is that they're good for each other. And we need everyone we can get to deal with this whatever it is."
"Speaking of which, you two have spent more time among these things than probably anyone else on the island. Any theories on what it is?"
"We spent most of the time running away."
"You must have an idea or two," Denise prodded.
"Ummmm," Ethan looked to Rachel, then continued. "Here's what I know from the theater. Everything was fine, then this woman attacked a guy, then he turned into one of them, so did the security guards. But some of the people who were torn apart really quickly didn't come back. I think that's because they died before the virus took over."
"Virus?"
"It's all I can think of. There's nothing to make me think it's some supernatural plague or demons, if that's what you're asking. If it is, it's your show. I think that, if the virus gets its hooks in you before your body dies, you come back. I haven't seen anyone actually rise from the dead, but, like I said, we haven't had time to check out the local graveyards. What I have no clue about is how it was triggered. Before we lost the phones, my Dad told me that he was driving through those things, and he was miles away."
"That's disconcerting," Denise said.
"The why doesn't matter right now; we need to move."
"Any ideas?"
"Well, we were heading to the hospital, before we got hit by an armored car." Ethan slapped a palm to his head. "Oh, my poor truck."
Sister Ann said, "Didn't Trent come from the hospital? Hold on. Trent?" A head shot up from one of the pews. "There you are. Come here for a moment, please."
A short, stocky man hustled to where they stood. He was what Ethan's father would have called a "fireplug." He whispered conspiratorially. "What's up?"
Ethan asked, "You came from the hospital?"
"No, I was almost there, but it was completely overrun. The zombies were already inside. I jacked a car and headed the other way. The hospital's the last place you want to be."
"Thanks." Trent went back to his pew and resumed his nap. "Shit. Shoot. I guess the high school's an option. Industrial kitchen, generators, bomb shelter. And it's a Saturday in August, so it should be empty."
Denise said, "That's a good idea. Ann?"
"I agree."
"Awesome. We can take your car. If we cram in there, we should be able to do it in two runs."
"That's not an option. That car was on empty when I picked you up. I was coming back here."
"So we need to make it a couple miles, and we have no cars."
"That's about it."
Rachel said, "We don't need a car. We only need to make it to the middle of the street."
Chapter 17: On the Move
The sewer system on the island was laid out in a very simple manner, all right angles, like big city streets. In theory, all the survivors had to do was follow it in a straight until they hit the high school. Their perspective on distance would be skewed because of the sporadic lighting and the confined space, but they could always reference the junction boxes at each building. Ethan thought this would be the case, anyway.
The hard part was getting there.
The two religious leaders briefed the entire group, fifteen other people in all, on the plan. Most of them met the news with small nods of agreement. They were the ones who had already accepted the inevitability of the move and decided that a chance at living balanced by the possibility of immediate death was preferable to temporary safety but an inevitable death by starvation or infection.
However, there were two holdouts, a brother and sister. They had multiple reasons for not wanting to go. It was suicide, they'd never make it, the group should wait for help to arrive, God would protect the group if we stayed (Sister Ann, to her credit, squashed this right away, reminding them that He helped those who helped themselves), they wanted to be here in case any more survivors showed up, they weren't fighters...
They didn't listen to reason, so Ethan tried another tactic, one he thought his father would deploy expertly. "Tell you what, if you want to die, I'm going to make sure you do some good, at least. Here's what I'm going to do: when we're ready to go, I'm going to throw you out that window right there and let you draw a bunch of them off. Make it easier on the rest of us."
"You wouldn't..."
"Do you know how many of those things I've had to kill? How many times my girlfriend and I almost died? If you think I won't take every advantage I can at this point, you don't know me at all. Try me."
"Ethan, I..." Denise objected.
He swung his head around and glared at her. "I didn't ask for your opinion or your help, Reverend." She held his gaze for an uncomfortable moment, but he knew he'd made his point. He spoke to the two holdouts again. "We're leaving in five minutes. That gives you four-and-a-half to get warmed up. I don't want you pulling any muscles out there. The farther you get, the better it is for the rest of us. So get ready." The two people stared at him in shock.
He turned his back on them and found Rachel staring holes through him. "What are you doing?"
"Keeping people alive."
"You can't just sacrifice them."
"It's up to them whether or not I do, Rach. But I'm through playing around." He checked his watch, then addressed the entire group. "Four minutes. Is everyone...everyone who needs to be, anyway...armed?"
There were mumbles of assent. He looked at the hodgepodge of weapons between them. He still had the Fu
bar, of course, and Rachel had stayed with the pipe. He supposed they both had grown familiar with their first weapons and knew what they were capable of with them. He also saw a shovel, a hammer, a traditional crowbar, and some spare timber that had been stored in the basement, among other things.
"We have the food?" Two women and one man each held up a fabric shopping bag filled with stuff they'd raided from the kitchen. They started to sling them over their shoulders, and Rachel said, "Wait. These things like to grab, so hold it in your hands. We can lose the food, if we have to, because we'll have a lot more if...when...we make it to the school."
Ethan whispered to her, "Good catch."
She responded with a cold, "Uh-huh."
Ethan thought, Wow, she's pissed at me right now.
He addressed the man with the crowbar. "You're the key. We'll keep them off of you, but we'll all die if you're not fast. Can you handle that, Diesel?"
The man held up his right arm and flexed. An apple-sized bump appeared under his skin. "I got this, kid. I got this."
"My man. Sister, you have your escort?"
She nodded, as did the two volunteers on either side of her.
"Okay. Take up your position and listen for me. As soon as I yell, you go."
"Understood. Do we have time for a quick prayer?"
"Sure. Make it a good one."
Sister Ann knelt in the aisle, and everyone, Methodists and Catholics and whatever else alike, encircled her, as did Rachel. Sister Ann recited a prayer and Ethan watched as several mouths moved along with her words. He moved to the window and peered out, hoping they could pull it off. He wasn't intentionally avoiding the prayer circle; he just didn't want anyone to see a sliver of doubt in his mind that they would all get through it. Somehow, in the short time that they'd been here, he and Rachel had become the de facto leaders in all affairs zombie, and he needed them to see that he believed, even if he wasn't completely sure himself.
He heard a chorus of amens and the circle broke.
Sister Ann and her escorts headed to the back, ready to utilize her sedan for the last time in the foreseeable future, if ever.
Ethan looked for the two holdouts. The man had his arm around the sobbing woman, and Ethan felt a huge pang of guilt when he said, "Are you two coming, or should I open the window for you?"