“Where do you think you caught it?” The answer didn’t matter. Ingram just wanted to delay the inevitable as long as possible.
“I wasn’t bitten. I never came in close contact with any of them.”
Ingram knew where the virus had originated. From his lips. He’d kissed her. Even though he was immune, he’d automatically assumed God would extend that protection to the ones he loved.
But what had God done here, really? He’d freed a virus that He’d apparently kept dormant for centuries, until the time was right for the human race to face its punishment. From this chaos, He’d pulled the levers until Ingram essentially ruled the world, or at least the part that mattered.
But what if this had been Ingram’s doing instead? Why should God get all the credit? Ingram was the one who’d made the sacrifices and connections. Ingram had built partnerships with the government, shelters across America, and alliances with other countries. Ingram was the one who ruled here, not God.
“Am I going to die?” Sarah Beth asked, trembling under the thin blanket.
“No, my precious. You shall rise again, just like Jesus.”
She shook her head, her stringy auburn hair clinging to the pillow. “I don’t want that.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t write the prophecies. I just fulfill them.”
“I’m scared.”
“Don’t be.” Ingram slid out of his chair and onto his knees beside the bed. “Let’s pray.”
He sought that powerful, personal connection he’d always found when he spoke to God. But now he felt nothing except anger. How dare God take away what was rightfully his?
He recalled what he’d told Cyrus, about how faith was tenuous. Faith was only as good as the payoff. And God had moved Sarah Beth from Ingram’s side into the arms of the enemy. God had given his wife to Satan.
If this was a test, Ingram refused to take it.
“Cameron?” Sarah Beth’s voice was faint and wheezing, fever wracking her slender body.
“I…I can’t do it,” Ingram said. “I’m out of prayers.”
His wife struggled to sit up but was far too weak. Her flesh was darker now, tainted by the virus that Ingram recognized as Satan’s poison. A sudden rage burned through Ingram and he rose from his knees. He was never prostrating himself before that phony deity ever again.
“He can’t take me away from you!” Ingram’s pulse pounded in his temples.
“We’ll be together in heaven,” she said. “And then we’ll have forever.”
“Oh, my poor sweetheart. I love you so much. I couldn’t leave you with a lie.”
“I’m not going to be a demon, honey.” Her fierce determination despite her waning strength made this even worse.
Ingram balled his hands into fists. “I didn’t write it! I didn’t curse the world with the Book of Revelation! I didn’t dream all this pain and suffering to life!”
He shook his fists toward the ceiling, the sky beyond, and whatever golden throne God sat His lazy ass on while dispensing endless misery. “I won’t do this for you. I’m done.”
Sarah Beth’s eyes widened in distress. No, something more. Revulsion.
Even she was rejecting him.
“But you were chosen,” she whispered.
Oh, yes, he was. But the Book of Revelation had one hero, didn’t it? Who was the one summoned to fight the Lamb? Who would let the Whore of Babylon ride him? Who would rule kings and command the world’s armies? Who would fulfill the Scripture by forcing the mark upon all those loathsome, desperate sheep?
Ingram wasn’t God’s servant.
He was God’s slave.
He was...the Beast.
Sarah Beth called his name and was gone.
But not to heaven.
He sat beside her, head in his hands, as her body cooled. He was afraid to touch her. At least she’d found momentary relief from the pain, even if eternal torment awaited her.
Someone knocked on the door. It could only be one person.
The knock came again, and then Cyrus called from the other side of the door. “Reverend?”
Could Ingram trust him now? If faced with the choice, would Cyrus remain loyal, or would he choose the Lord they’d both once worshipped?
Then he remembered Cyrus had taken his mark. Cyrus would choose him, as would all the others in Promiseland and in the many shelters across the world. Had not all of those preachers gratefully submitted to him, ecstatic at their own chance to expand their power and influence? The church and government wed one another under the banner of fear, and then eagerly handed the union over to Cameron Ingram.
He looked down at his dead wife, aware that he’d once loved her deeply. He wanted to feel it in his heart, a memory, a longing, a soft, warm place where he could escape. But the only thing inside him was anger.
He rubbed his eyes until he made himself weep, and the third time Cyrus knocked, Ingram opened the door. “Sarah Beth’s dead.”
Horrified, Cyrus looked from Ingram’s face to the diseased body on the bed and then back to Ingram. “Oh, my God, no.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” He drew on his years of media experience, summoning emotions he didn’t really feel. He acted heartbroken.
Ingram held the door open and Cyrus rushed past him, throwing himself to the floor beside the bed and reaching for her hand. Ingram checked the hallway behind him to make sure no one was watching, and then closed the door.
“Sarah Beth, Sarah Beth,” Cyrus wailed, with such angst that Ingram wondered if he’d been wrong: perhaps his wife and his bodyguard had been fornicating all along.
Ingram discovered he didn’t care one way or another.
He was vaguely aware he was insane, that something inside his head had shattered, but that’s what happened when God slammed a crown down on your head.
“Why?” The big bodyguard was reduced to a blubbering mass.
“She was sick.”
“But she had the mark!”
“The mark couldn’t protect her, and neither could faith.”
Cyrus sat beside Sarah Beth’s body and touched the side of her neck as if checking for a pulse. “But she was fine yesterday.”
“Don’t worry. She’ll rise again.”
“We can’t let that happen. We can’t let Satan take her.”
“Too late,” Ingram said. “Satan had her all along.”
Cyrus stood and loomed over Ingram, eager to have a target for his anger. “Don’t you dare say that. You know better than anyone how righteous she was.”
“I didn’t cause this, Cyrus.”
Cyrus turned away. “We can’t let her become one of those…not inside the church.”
“This has to remain our secret. All of these people are counting on me. We’re all invested in the mark. God wanted all of this.”
“No. We have to get her out of here somehow. I’ve taken care of so many problems for you. You’ll have to trust me with this one.”
“It’s too late.” Ingram pointed to the bed.
Sarah Beth stirred beneath the blanket, her flesh now a pasty sheen over a blotched mass of gray veins. Her eyes opened. The color was mostly drained from them. They were opalescent orbs with flat black pupils, already going dry with death.
Her fingers wiggled against the blanket, nails scraping the cotton cloth. She lifted her left shoulder as if to roll onto her side. Her mouth gaped in an involuntary yawn. A silvery drool of saliva trailed down one side of her chin.
Cyrus reached inside his jacket and pulled his Glock from its holster. Ingram made no move to stop him. It was in God’s hands.
Sarah Beth groaned from deep in her throat. Her nose twitched a little. She turned toward Cyrus and sat up slowly, her slight form trembling in a mockery of rigor mortis.
Cyrus wiped at his tears, moving closer and jabbing the gun toward her. Then he dropped his arm, staring at the wall, and tried again. By now Sarah Beth was half out of the bed. Her bare feet brushed the floor and her groan shif
ted into a low growl of newly awakened need.
Ingram called her name, instinctively testing to see if any of his wife remained inside that corrupted, vile shell. She didn’t even glance his way, all her senses consumed by the rich, redolent prey before her.
Cyrus lifted his Glock once more. His hand shook. The eye of the barrel was mere inches from her forehead. One tug of the trigger and Sarah Beth would go from deader to deadest and then straight to hell.
Maybe Cyrus knew this, because he pulled away just as Sarah Beth lunged for him. She fell to the floor at his feet and crawled toward him, hissing and clawing and clacking her teeth.
“I can’t do it!” Cyrus cried.
Ingram patted him on the shoulder. It was his turn at consolation. “It’s all right, my friend. Let me handle her.”
Cyrus tried to give his weapon to Ingram, but the reverend patted Cyrus’s hand and guided it back inside his coat to the shoulder holster. Cyrus hurried to the door, passing beneath a painting of Jesus Christ. The Lord looked down at the tableau, sad and wise and forgiving.
After Cyrus was gone, Ingram removed his jacket. Sarah Beth clambered to her feet, unsteady as she took her first dead steps. She was still unaccustomed to her new state of existence, but the hunger was undeniable, an irrefutable fact for the rest of eternity.
“I owe you this much,” Ingram whispered, offering his bare arm to her.
She fell on him with a snarl, lips smacking, as they both professed their undying love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Even though Arjun had looked forward to playing house with Sydney, he was glad the group decided to stay together for a little while longer.
After burying Hannah, they discussed the new revelation that the military wasn’t going to protect any survivors who didn’t accept the mark. Sonia suggested returning to Promiseland and submitting to Reverend Ingram’s policies, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it. Mostly she saw it as a way to stop fighting on two fronts: against both the army and the deaders.
Meg acknowledged such a decision would buy them some time and also put her in a better position to find her husband, but she wasn’t willing to expose Jacob to the strange, cult-like atmosphere. Rocky was adamant that the military had become corrupted by the reverend’s influence, especially since Ingram had apparently acquired more political power. He saw no way to trust them even if the group was allowed back into the compound. Additionally, he believed sticking together was vital in case they encountered any more patrols.
Since Arjun and Sydney had no real plans, they consented to whatever the others wanted to do. In the end, Sonia and Meg both agreed with Rocky. Jacob demanded a say on general principle, declaring “This isn’t a dictatorship yet,” and then he voted to make it unanimous.
They hid the two soldiers’ bodies in a drainage ditch a block away from them, and then Rocky drove the LSV into a patch of woods and covered it with branches. A deader attacked him during the operation, but he dispatched the thing with a thrust of his KA-BAR. With dusk approaching, the group moved enough gear from the Nissan back into the house so they could comfortably pass the night.
Arjun and Sonia volunteered to conduct a circuit of the neighborhood to make sure the house would be safe. After Rocky’s unpleasant encounter in the woods, Sonia insisted that no one go out alone anymore. Additionally, the group feared the army might send more patrols out to look for the two missing soldiers.
Now, with dusk approaching, they reached an intersection where the residential streets merged with a major boulevard. A gas station sat catty-corner with a bakery, a McDonald’s restaurant, a real-estate office, and a row of shops selling everything from lawn ornaments to custom cabinets. Glass was shattered in some of the storefronts, and the McDonald’s had been so heavily ransacked that Styrofoam containers and crumpled paper cups littered the parking lot.
“Doesn’t look like anything we need,” Sonia said. “Not worth crossing the road for, anyway.”
“Seems a little odd, doesn’t it?” Arjun asked. “Shouldn’t there be more survivors around?”
“Maybe, but I’d guess most people in the suburbs either headed for more rural areas or thought the city might be safer. It’s hard to predict how people will react in a moment of panic.”
“I hear you. Even that soldier, with all his training, still nearly shot Jacob. It’s like the kid didn’t even register as a human being.”
“It was his training that caused the reaction,” Sonia said, turning away from the road.
“Well, his training got three people killed. None of it needed to happen.”
“Yes, sadly. If the army’s out this way, they must be cleaning up the deaders. Maybe that’s why we haven’t seen many of those, either. Too bad they declared war against the wrong side.”
“If Ingram’s president now, who knows what kind of crazy orders he’s issuing?”
Sonia held up a finger. “Shh. I hear something.”
Arjun heard it, too. It was a soft swishing sound, but then it grew louder. “Vehicle coming this way.”
He and Sonia ducked into the thick landscaping around the stone-encased entrance sign for Deer Run. The vehicle slowed as it approached the businesses. The Toyota 4Runner held three people, and the one in the rear held a rifle pointed toward the driver. The 4Runner slowed and turned into the McDonald’s parking lot.
“Must’ve got a sudden craving for burger and fries,” Arjun said.
“Looks like those people in front got carjacked.”
“What should we do?” Arjun wasn’t eager to get involved, since he didn’t know the whole story.
“Let’s see how it plays out. If they’d have kept going, it would be out of our hands. But now, we might have a responsibility here.”
Arjun loathed responsibility. It was partly why he’d remained a freelance game designer for the most part, because he didn’t want the obligations that came with corporate overlords. And it was part of the reason he’d never had a real girlfriend, either. He’d planned on putting off adulting as long as possible.
Unfortunately, the apocalypse happened, and he’d had to grow up overnight.
When the 4Runner stopped, the person in the rear got out and motioned to the driver with the rifle. Arjun couldn’t hear her words—he was surprised to see the carjacker was female—but it was clear she was forcing the others out of the car. She wore a black knit cap, denim jacket, and baggy brown corduroy pants.
With the engine idling, the driver and passenger exited, leaving their doors open. The pair in front seemed to be husband and wife, upper middle-aged, casually dressed. They didn’t have the look of people who’d endured the horrific duress of the past week. The three of them walked into the McDonald’s and soon were lost in the shadows.
“If we’re going to do something, now’s our chance,” Sonia said.
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Sonia gave him a look. “What if that were you and Sydney? And people refused to help you?”
“Damn. I hate it when you’re right.”
“Get used to it. Let’s go.”
Slipping from their concealment, they worked their way behind a couple of abandoned cars in both lanes until they were on the opposite side of the road. They dropped into a muddy ditch that smelled to Arjun of frog piss and rotten leaves, working their way toward the restaurant. The ditch was sloped and afforded little cover. If Knit Cap looked out toward the road, she was certain to spot them.
But apparently she was serious about scoring some food, because they made it to the restaurant’s fenced Dumpster without raising an alarm.
“You take the back, and I’ll take the side entrance,” Sonia said. “Loop around so you can get her when they return to the 4Runner.”
“So we’re definitely going to take her out?”
“If we hesitate, we might end up like Hannah. Or get those two people killed.”
“So we don’t give her the benefit of a doubt? What if they have some sort of r
elationship we don’t know about?”
Arjun wasn’t sure he could kill another human being in cold blood. This wasn’t a game. Taking down zombies had been hard enough.
“We’re not cops and there’s no court of law anymore,” Sonia said. “Only jungle warfare and street justice.”
“You’re a Christian, right? What about ‘Do unto others’ and ‘Turn the other cheek’? What if somebody shot first and asked questions later if they saw us?”
“We’re on the side of good here, Arjun.”
“Yeah, but that’s exactly what the other side always thinks, too.”
“We can debate philosophy later. Let’s move while we have a chance.”
As Arjun crept around the back of the restaurant, he realized Sonia had given him the safer job. He’d be concealed from the interior all the way around the building until he was nearly to the 4Runner. Maybe she didn’t trust him with the hard tasks, or maybe she was protecting him. Either way, he resolved not to let her down.
After circling the rear, he came to an indentation in the brick wall that was recessed to allow room for an air-handling unit. The mulch around the unit was covered with cigarette butts, and a couple of airplane liquor bottles had been tossed to the ground. Evidently this was where employees took their breaks out of the view of management. That was good enough for Arjun.
He slid behind the unit and balanced his rifle atop it across the fan grid. He would use it to steady his aim when the time came. He waited, forcing himself to breathe steadily, listening for a shot or a shout from inside.
Something thumped in one of the cars parked near the building. Arjun hadn’t paid them any attention, but now he studied those nearest him. Several of them harbored corpses at the wheel, probably dead from infection but for some reason not turning into zombies. Most were unoccupied, but a rusty sedan held what looked like a family of deaders. Although the father was strapped into place behind the wheel, struggling against the seatbelt, three infected youngsters crawled over the seats, banging against the grease-smeared windows.
Looking for their next Happy Meal.
Revelation: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Thriller (Arize Book 2) Page 18