The reverend paused and looked at Jon and Nikki to make sure that they were following. For both of them, it was like a spotlight had been shined on their faces.
The reverend put a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But that would be a mistake. Wouldn’t it, Jerry?” The boy nodded, wincing at the pressure. “Who does God hate?”
Jerry responded with a full throated, “GAYS!”
“That’s right. Who else?”
“JEWS!”
The reverend put a hand to his ear, “Uh huh, and?”
The congregation joined in. “FORNICATORS!”
“And?”
“MUSLIMS!”
“How about this vile country and its faggot-loving army? – May the devil enjoy feasting on their souls.”
“YEAH!”
“God hates all of those who ignore his message.”
There were shouts of Amen and Hallelujah.
Nikki turned to Jon, “Right. I’m outta here.”
“Right behind you.”
They stood and marched past the surprised congregants, avoiding eye contact as they went. A big man with red hair, who had been sitting in the rear, stood along with three others and followed as Jon and Nikki stepped out the door.
The big man’s name was Ben Watson, and despite his girth, his movement was jackrabbit quick. He stepped outside and swiftly caught up. “Stop.” Jon and Nikki turned and Nikki naturally fell into a defensive posture.
“Can’t have you wanderin’ where you like now, can we?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Nikki yelled, hoping that the people inside could hear her as well. “The world is going to shit and you teach children to preach that bullshit?” She took a step closer to Watson who flinched. The men around him readied themselves for violence. “I’ve gunned down fanatical scum like you and not given it another thought.”
The reverend stepped through the door, followed by Katherine. "I think that’s all the talk we’ll have like that." He bored his dark eyes into Nikki’s. “I remind you that you are a guest on this island.”
“Screw you, you fucked up bigot.”
Calder cocked his head as though he had been lightly slapped. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. “I invite you to return inside so that we may proceed.”
“I don’t think so, Buzz,” said Jon.
“It’s not a request Mr. Washington…”
“I know you.” Jon seethed. “Media-loving whores who have one narcissistic goal – get on TV and piss people off.”
The reverend gave an amused chuckle and with an impish look, invited Watson and the others to join in his mirth. “I don’t know how you’ve come to that conclusion, Jon. You are the only media here, and I assure you that we have no intention to provoke you. This is just an ordinary day for us, the only provocation being right now. Now please step back inside or I will be forced to ask Mr. Watson to lock you back up.”
“That’s not happening,” said Nikki, taking another heavy step forward. “And I will tear the throat out of the first fool to lay a hand on us.”
They could hear the congregation chattering to each other inside now and then Steven Costas stepped outside with Teddy and Amanda in tow. “Everything alright here?”
Jon gently pulled Nikki back. “It’s a big island. Give us our gear. We’ll make ourselves scarce.”
“That’s really not an option,” said Calder, who was wishing that it was. He didn’t want to kill these people, but to protect his flock… “We have strict rules of concealment here. The risk is too high that you’ll give us away.”
Steven spoke again, “I have a suggestion. If I may, Reverend?”
Calder acknowledged him, silently offering the floor.
Steven tried to make his voice sound as optimistic as possible. “We let them stay here. In the village. They can work for the communal good. But for now, skip the services.” He gave a nearly imperceptible wink to Jon and Nikki. “We can’t exactly expect a newspaper man and a Jewish woman to accept the church’s teachings in one day can we?”
Calder mulled this for a moment while glancing past Jon and Nikki at the storage shed/lock-up and then finally said, “As a temporary solution, I can live with it. For a short while - until we can find a more permanent one.”
Steven turned to Jon and Nikki, “Will that work for you? It’s not like you can safely leave. You wouldn’t make it a day out there now.”
Jon gave Nikki a look indicating that the final choice was hers. She looked away, studying the morning sunlight as it twinkled across the lagoon, and finally nodded, “As a temporary solution.”
Reverend Calder puffed up his broad chest and said, “I have a mass to complete. Katherine please escort Miss Rosen to the women’s dorm. Mr. Watson will show Mr. Washington the men’s. Mr. Watson, you will place a detail with each of our guests. They are not to be out of our sight for even a moment. Clear?”
“Very clear, Reverend.”
Nikki said, “I sleep in my own tent. I did all of the communal living I could ever hate while I was a Marine, defending you and your right to spout vial bullshit.”
“A Marine? Interesting. No, I’m afraid we couldn’t allow you to sleep alone. It quite simply isn’t fair or right for a single woman to be away from the safety of her sisters.”
Nikki looked at Jon for support and then back to the reverend. “Um, I’m not sure you’re getting me. I will not sleep in a dorm. This is not negotiable or temporary, capice?”
Jon interjected, “Uh, why don’t we do this - Nikki can sleep in her own tent and so can I, but we’ll set them up next to your dorms, women’s and men’s respectively?” Before the reverend could answer, Jon continued, “Do you really want your single, young parishioners bunking with us anyway?”
Calder seemed to appreciate this move in the game and nodded an acknowledgment at Jon. “You have a point.” He looked at Nikki with fresh eyes. “For now, you have your own tents.”
“Thank you, Mr. Calder,” said Jon.
The reverend beamed a crocodile smile, “You will be expected to labor with the rest of us.”
“Of course.”
“And Mr. Washington…. It’s Reverend Calder.”
At mealtime, Jon and Nikki sat in the mess hall at their own table. The paneling was adorned with the same messages that screamed from the church walls, and they found themselves hunching over their food, the oppressiveness of the space pushing down on them. They received a lot of stares, particularly from the children, but no one offered conversation. That part was a relief. They put their heads close and used hushed tones.
Nikki said, “This isn’t going to work.”
“I know.”
“I’m not saying that we get off this rock. I agree that we’re dead if we do, but we’ve got to convince them to let us go to the East Side. Carve out our own camp. They’re not using it. It’s not like we’d make ourselves known.”
“Obviously.”
“I just can’t be around this shit.”
Jon glanced at the Costas’ who were sitting with a group on the other side of the room. He could see the false niceties emanating from Steven’s face as he nodded politely, listening to them speak. “I don’t think the Costas’ are ready to sign up for it either. Maybe we can talk to Steven, get him to convince Calder that the five of us should have our own spot.”
A woman stood and spoke quietly to her husband and child. “It’s our Christian duty, Robert. We have a responsibility to reach out to these people and save them from themselves.” The husband frowned and stood as well, lifting his three-year-old daughter into his arms. The woman picked up their food trays and the three people stepped over to Nikki and Jon’s table.
The woman asked, “May we join you?”
Jon said, “Um, of course.”
“I’m Martha Brown. This is my husband Robert, our daughter Melissa.”
The husband nodded a hello and Melissa buried her head in her dad’s side.
&nbs
p; “Jon Washington.”
“Nikki.”
Martha offered Nikki a smile that hid a bad taste in her mouth. Robert, his tongue working a thick Maine accent, asked, “So where’re you two from, then?”
Jon said, “Well, neither one of us is really from anywhere. I’m a roving reporter, though I kept an apartment in Atlanta. Nikki's just discharged out of the Marines.” He then filled the pregnant pause that followed. “So you’re from Maine as well?”
Martha smiled, “Oh, yes. We all are. Same town pretty much. When the call to get out was given, the reverend rightly assumed that it would turn into a den of iniquity up north. We started laying out and provisioning the island back in January, just in case.”
Her husband said, “Never thought the demons would get all the way up here. Good folk around here. Pretty far away from the cities, don’t ya know?”
Jon said, “Well, the primary food supply went north. If you’re a meat eater, you follow the meat.”
Martha put her hand to her chest, “Oh my. I guess so.”
Robert said, “Saw some video on television at the barber shop, before we came here. Cannibals they said.”
“Robert,” admonished his wife.
Melissa spoke up, “Mommy, what’s cannobles?”
“It’s just another word for the demon people, honey.”
Nikki, unwilling to indulge these people’s fantasies, put down her fork and looked at the pretty little girl, “They are people who have succumbed to a horrible disease. They still need to eat, but they don’t know how to make food anymore so they…”
“Please don’t.” Martha interrupted. She turned to her husband and child. “I think maybe we’re finished with dinner, hmm? Let’s clean up and get into the kitchen. It’s the Brown family’s turn at KP duty.” They stood and Martha turned back to Nikki and Jon, “May God bless you and find mercy on your poor souls.”
Nikki and Jon had been assigned KP as well. When dinner was over, they found themselves washing a mountain of dishes with the Brown family. There was also a young couple, perhaps nineteen or twenty years old and suffering from hormonal fireworks. It was clear that they hadn’t been married very long. At one point Nikki walked in on them kissing in the pantry. “Sorry,” she said and started to turn around.
“Wait?” asked the boy. “Can I ask you a question?” Nikki stopped. “Are you really a Jew? ‘Cause, uh, ‘cause uh. Aren’t you supposed to have horns?”
Nikki tried to keep her jaw from dropping. “You’re serious aren’t you? What’s your name?”
“Ham Unger.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Well, Ham Unger, they only come out on the full moon. If you like, on the next one, I’ll show you.”
Both of the young people seemed to grow pale.
Nikki chuckled to herself, “Let me offer you children some advice. Grow up fast or I promise that your incredible ignorance will get you killed.”
Darkness over early summer Maine didn’t arrive until late in the evening. The extra light let everyone get in a few hours of simple relaxation, either reading or playing games, but when the night did come, it was bedtime. The whole village turned in at once. Fires were doused, lanterns turned off. No point in advertising their presence, even if they were mostly hidden.
Reluctantly, Nikki said good night to Jon, giving his arm a squeeze. It was strange for them both. They hadn’t had a night apart in the short time they’d known each other. They’d quickly grown used to each other’s company.
After washing up at the men’s communal bath, Jon nodded goodnights to various people as he was escorted to the male dorm. His tent was set up next to the larger more permanent tent that housed the single men. He didn’t bother saying goodnight to his guards and crawled inside the shelter. He undressed and pulled the sleeping bag around him. The night quickly cooled down, and a damp chill moved in from the lake and he was grateful for Will Parker’s cozy down sleeping bag. He thought of the brave man with the Red Sox cap and his horrible end. Then fell into his nightly loop of nightmares.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mind Fuck
Cavanaugh hated fighting with his J-LIST gear on. Still, he took careful aim with his HK, and despite the ma deuce punching orange flame through the air above his head, he unshakingly brought down one Fiend after another with simple precision. The fifty-cal tracers looked like laser beams spraying through the ranks of the crazed humans and even with his night vision turned down to avoid flash burns on his eyes, he could make out the horrid sight of human bodies exploding into pieces with each bull’s-eye.
Several of the Fiends were children and a part of Cavanaugh still cringed at their little bodies being mowed down without mercy. He had to remind himself that it was a mercy - then he saw the infants – “Oh shit,” he said to no one in particular, “there’s at least two females carrying babies.” Then there was a buzzing, and his head started filling with imagery: sights and sounds of battle, grunts and screams and horrible smells. It got stronger and stronger so that he became completely disoriented and suddenly he could see his own Humvee in the distance - his peripheral vision was surrounded by running Fiends. Then Peabody, who was driving, yelled out, “What is that? What’s going on?”
Andrews abruptly stopped firing the fifty-cal and the other soldiers held their hands to their heads, squeezing their eyes shut.
“Drive! Fucking back up!” Cavanaugh screamed at Peabody.
Peabody slammed the transmission in reverse and stepped on the gas. The Humvee fishtailed in a huge circle as Peabody randomly steered, barely able to concentrate. Then suddenly they were driving nearly sideways in an irrigation ditch. When Peabody corrected his steering in the wrong direction, the big truck flipped, tumbling over several times, crushing Andrews who had been standing up through the roof - The fifty-cal smashed to pieces. The truck flipped back onto its wheels and slammed to a wet halt in the swampy ditch. The four men left inside were battered and dazed. Cavanaugh shook Peabody who was unconscious, his head leaning against the wheel. Then he heard the approaching Fiends. The crazed assault on his senses was gone for the moment and he had the presence of mind to tap his mic, “Squad one under full assau…” - Suddenly he was yanked through the open door by two of the beasts. The creatures snarled and ripped at his clothes, and then just as suddenly stopped. They fell away from him, shaking into convulsions. More Fiends climbed over their comrades and grabbed him, slobbering teeth gnashing, trying to get a lock on him, and then they spit, as if trying to get a horrible taste out of their mouths and within seconds they also fell away, shaking and vomiting – Of course! His hazmat suit was still covered with sticky bits of Novichok. In the Ranger’s haste to clean the Chinooks, Squad One had given little thought to the contamination on their suits. The other soldiers were experiencing the same thing: The Deadheads that touched them were twisting in agony, vomiting and dying. Cavanaugh had never really taken in how lethal the stuff really was and he looked at his arms in amazement.
Watching their brothers and sisters die horrific deaths, seemed to give the infected pause and they backed up, still circling the Humvee but aware that somehow it was killing them if they got too close.
The sound of the Chinook spinning up, floated across the field. O’Shea had been calling repeatedly over the radio and only now had Cavanaugh realized it. He turned to Gomez who was seated behind Peabody who was groggily coming to, “Pull him back there with you. And jump behind the wheel.” He clicked his mic, “We’re okay, Cap.” He saw the machine gunner’s crumpled body lying face down in the water. “Strike that. We lost Andrews.” Several infected had tried to bury their teeth in the dead man’s body and had died the same horrible way as the others. A huge Fiend armed with a machete held its arms up in the air and the infected fell silent. Then almost as one, the Fiends parted to reveal three small children, toddlers really – but not – instead they looked like imps from Cavanaugh’s worst nightmares – huge intelligent eyes. They stood on long steady legs; the legs
of a predator, feline, but also goat like - and they stared at him.
O’Shea’s voice barked over the radio, “I’m not hearing anymore shooting. Status?”
“Shit,” said Cavanaugh to himself. He unholstered his pistol and – in a blink, his sense of place and purpose was wiped free. One of the imps leaped forward like a monkey, hopping back and forth amongst the Fiends to finally land in the open arms of the machete holder. It smiled a row a shark sharp teeth and moved steadily up and down with excitement. The other soldiers in the Humvee started moaning in delirious fright. Cavanaugh mindlessly stepped back inside the truck, sat down, and pulled a grenade off the webbing on his chest. The men could see what he was doing but were powerless to stop it. Cavanaugh’s hand shook while one part of his mind fought for some control, his teeth gritted, a groan of frustration pouring from his lips. He struggled for a moment longer and then lost the battle – his finger pulled the pin. The Fiends backed away and watched without passion as the truck exploded.
With the rest of the infected following, the machete wielder set the young imp down and started charging for the farm again.
Back at the farm, O’Shea and Bullock watched in dismay as Cavanaugh’s Humvee burst into a fireball. Bullock yelled out, “Okay, that’s it. Everyone onboard.”
Tran was the last one out of the lab. He ran to the Chinook with two Pelican cases full of gear. Jones was strapping himself in behind his window-mounted mini-gun and nodded at him as he ran up the loading ramp. The rotor blades were at full power and the prop wash raised a huge cloud of dust and bits of straw around them.
Bullock turned to O’Shea, “Had to turn on the lights.” He and O’Shea glanced at Susan who was yelling at Aaron about something. Then she ran back off the helicopter.
“Where the hell is she going?” O’Shea unbuckled his harness. Tran got up to follow Susan.“Sit down, Mr. Tran!”
Tran sat as O’Shea jumped off the helicopter. Susan ran as fast as she could toward the big Victorian. “Ms. Chancellor, get back on the helicopter! Susan!”
Of Sudden Origin Page 18