Erik Handy (8 page)

Nolan wished this rocky ride was over. He was no soldier, for God or otherwise. He was no police officer. He felt so minute. Reaching out to his faith seemed futile right now. But he had to see this through. It was his duty as a human being to at least try.

Jacoby was just glad the priest had finally quit speaking.

***

The jeeps stopped.

Nolan looked ahead. He didn't see any semblance of a village. Just a haphazard stack of long, cleanly cut trees laying across the road, long enough and high enough to give any travelers pause to continue. So these people up here had enough aptitude to trim trees for barricades and to kill each other.

Nolan gripped his rifle until his knuckles ached.

He sensed they were close.

The members of the death cult.

Rosalo's men.

His stomach felt emptier than it ever had before, but he wasn't hungry. Behind the empty was a bloating. His head started to hurt. He knew he wasn't getting sick. No, these feelings went deeper than the physical.

He looked to both sides, past Jacoby, whose attention was drawn to the roadblock, and dreadfully wondered when the rocks would rain down on them. Would he and these policemen suffer the same fate as the ten in the road a mile back?

The men tensed up as well. The brief incident moments before with the man with the machete stirred their anxiety. It was only natural. With what they experienced and knew about recent events, they believed anything could happen, especially this close to the village.

Raymond hoped his men wouldn't let their anxiety make them trigger happy. He wanted to complete this mission, successfully or not, as soon as possible.

Jacoby kept scanning the jungle on his side, fighting through the dark of night. His mind was on that task, not on the damn priest anymore. He wasn't about to be caught unaware. He rested his meaty hand on his holstered pistol.

Two men from the front jeep eased towards the roadblock. They held their rifles up, aimed ahead, slightly shaking. They didn't need Raymond to tell them what to do. That's how it was here. Everyone knew their place.

Sweat coiled in the creases of their foreheads. The jeeps' headlights offered scant illumination, but it was enough to see there wasn't anybody lurking near the fallen trees. They didn't hear anything out of the ordinary, just some insects in the distance chirping a chaotic melody.

Their fingers were stuck to their triggers, not slipping. Their senses were in overdrive, absorbing every little detail of their surroundings. From the humidity that soured their lips to the dirt that sifted under their feet, the pair experienced it all. They didn't mentally log everything to use tactically -- they weren't that well-trained. They knew that if they saw trouble, they were to shoot it.

Before they knew it, they stood at the debris. The stack of trees was chest high. Peering over the barricade, the men saw the rocky path continue and curve a hundred feet or so up. They didn't spot the two cult members crouching just beneath their lines of sight, their backs to the barricade. Or the jagged tree branches they held like gallant swords.

The two policemen had no idea that the dirty pair were about to spring up and attack them.

And that's what happened.

Without warning.

Quickly.

Deftly.

The villager on the left jabbed his weapon at the soldier on his side while the one on the right swung his makeshift club at his respective soldier's exposed head, a fatal swing for sure. There was necessary malice in their speeds. Rosalo told these two that no one, villager, townsperson, policeman, priest, no one was to be allowed past the roadblock. Anyone who tried or even approached were to be killed.

The police officers, glorified gunmen in this mess, were too slow to dodge the assault.

But they were quick enough to fire their more advanced weapons before the deadly blows landed.

The cult member on the left was struck in the chest by one shot. His partner got his in the throat. Blood from his wound sprayed the soldiers in the face and chest. Both roadblock guards fell down, two more pieces of debris in the road.

Chapter 29

The search party returned. They stepped from the jungle, slumped in defeat. They had let down their leader, Rosalo. They knew there would be consequences. Already they were planning schemes of escape. They really couldn't take any more death. Their yearning for another way of life, albeit one without a happy ending, had reached a nadir. And quite simply, they didn't want to die.

They defiantly spoke about not even returning to the village. Just abandon Rosalo. Abandon their families. Wives. Children. They were all but abandoned anyway. Make their way around the village and down to the town. To the city. Get lost there and try to forget everything.

It was callous, but this is what they preferred. They couldn't face Rosalo. The self-appointed leader had his devout followers in his hand. Those followers were psychotic, always more than willing to carry out his orders. His sacrifices.

But what did they expect? They knew this before they moved out here to be part of something once promised as glorious and eternal. They were just as psychotic as their leader, just not as willing to get their hands dirty. Cowards in all respects, they let that point rest in the back of their heads. At the forefront was the matter of staying or fleeing. Before they could decide their course of action, they found themselves staring down the long barrels of soldiers' guns.

***

The village men were pulled away as Raymond looked on. The captain smiled. This was going easier than he expected.

The villagers were being held in the middle of the village, out in the open. They were comforting each other. They knew the soldiers weren't going to execute them for the attack earlier against the other soldiers. No. These soldiers, they were civilized. That was their weakness. They wouldn't do anything wrong in the name of what's right.

While the villagers plotted and waited, Raymond's men began to search every hut, pulling out men, women, and a few frightened children here and there.

Jacoby just sauntered around, pretending to work.

Chapter 30

Nolan ran out of another hut and into the chaos of soldiers and villagers. He had to find the baby. Now.

He dashed into another hut, curling his nose as he did so. Some kind of small animal was split open in the middle of the main floor. The creature's entrails were splayed out in a bouquet of thick yellows and reds. Nolan wasn't sure if the thing was on its back or stomach or if it was ever real in the first place.

The hut yielded no baby.

He made for another hut and halted in his tracks.

Coming his way was the man who had trailed him in town earlier in the day.

The man was just as frazzled as some of the villagers who were being chased by the soldiers around them. The man saw the priest, but didn't immediately recognize him. When he did, he made a hard stop, almost tripping over his feet.

It was a replay of their previous encounter on that dirty town road. The two men stood off. Nolan with the rifle in his sweaty hands. The cult member with no weapon in his. Both uncertain on what to do. Nolan's uncertainty was the first to vanish.

Nolan raised his rifle up with the poise of a man who had done this before. Once the other man was in his line of shot, Nolan stepped closer to his target, insuring a direct hit to the chest.

Nolan saw the fear in the man's eyes. That didn't faze him at all. The man was one of them, one of Rosalo's cult. That made him guilty. That made him a threat to all of Nolan's promises -- those promises to take care of the grocer's children and little Jean Paul wherever he may be.

The man didn't waste a breath. He darted to the left, down a small lane between two huts, straight toward the village clearing where the police tried to contain the captured villagers.

Nolan took off after him. He wasn't going to let him get away again.

Marie. Jean Paul. The grocer and his family. In his mind, they urged and cheered Nolan on. They gave him their blessings. Their voices and words, the noise of their souls, rang in his ears.

Nolan knew he wouldn't catch the man. His fear granted him greater speed. Nolan stopped and raised his rifle again. The man's back was retreating, but still exposed.

The grocer laying in front of his home and store, stomach oozing out his life. Nolan couldn't shake that image, didn't want to. He had to kill this cowardly murderer. Even if the man never killed anyone, grocer or otherwise, he still had to be punished. God's will? Nolan didn't know. He was going on gut instinct and anger right now.

"Father!"

From behind. Raymond.

Nolan lowered his gun as Raymond ran up beside him.

"This way, Father," Raymond said.

Nolan watched his target get lost in the shuffle of the skirmish. The fugitive never looked back.

"Father," Raymond urged. "That baby."

Nolan nodded.
"That baby."
Jean Paul. There was nothing special about the child. Just part of the promise Nolan made to himself and he wasn't going to let this damned place make him break it.

I was going to kill him, Nolan thought as he and Raymond ran to another hut. I was going to shoot him in the back. God, what's happening to me?

Chapter 31

Inside the hut Jean Paul was being kept, Rosalo bundled the baby up in a blanket. His sacrifice would not be denied.

A man at the window watched the army activity. "Hurry!" he told Rosalo. "They're coming this way!"

Confident, Rosalo replied, "I'm ready."

Rosalo meant to flee into the jungle and wait the police out. They didn't know the jungle like he did so he would have plenty of running room. Killing Jean Paul was the final part of the plan, but that did not require any serious planning. He would wing it.

Two soldiers burst into the hut.

Rosalo's man ran interference, allowing Rosalo to make a break for it through the rear. However, Raymond and Nolan were there, guns drawn.

The rifle in Nolan's hands shook, but he held tight.

Rosalo was a frightened animal. His eyes darted, desperately trying to find an exit.

"There's nowhere to run," Raymond assured him.

Rosalo pulled a knife from his waistband sheath and warded everyone away. He then placed the blade flat against the baby in his arms.

Nolan was about to jump in, a knee-jerk reaction for sure, but Raymond held him back with one arm.

"Don't," Raymond said. Then, to Rosalo, "Give us the baby."

Rosalo grinned. Nolan swore he saw two rows of shark teeth in that mouth of his.

"He will die here," Rosalo declared.

BANG!

Raymond shot Rosalo in his knife arm. Rosalo dropped both the knife and baby, but Nolan was there for the child. The two soldiers subdued Rosalo and his accomplice and dragged them both outside.

"How is he?" Raymond asked Nolan.

"He's --" Nolan fingered part of the blanket off of Jean Paul's little face. The baby looked up at the priest and almost smiled. "He's okay."

Chapter 32

Soldiers encircled the villagers. Though there was tension in the air, no one acted out of order.

Rosalo stood among his followers, holding his shot arm. Blood dripped between his fingers. He kept looking around for a way out, but the circle of soldiers was too tight.

The villagers seemed tranquil. The soldiers were antsy. They wanted a fight.

Jacoby was chatting with one soldier when Raymond and Nolan, with Jean Paul, exited the hut. He saw that Nolan had the baby. Jacoby scoffed. All of this for a damn baby. He smiled when he realized that Nolan failed in finding the child's mother.

Hell, the priest probably forgot about her! Jacoby wanted to laugh. The priest, so self-righteous, was infallible. Just another man who didn't care.

The constable straightened to attention when the two approached him.

"That's one unnecessary tragedy ended," Raymond said, more to Jacoby than anyone else. "You can thank me for cleaning up your mess by tendering your resignation when we get back to town."

You bastard, Jacoby thought. He was about to argue --

"Captain!" yelled one soldier. All eyes were on him as he pointed to the border of the village. They followed his arm, finger, and saw --

The first zombie cleared the dark jungle. Just behind him, the others.

They should have been nothing but decayed matter, but the magic driving them forth gave them a stronger form, better to break their targets! The living didn't know any of this. All they could fathom was that these strangers were . . .
wrong
. 

The villagers tried to run, but the half-distracted soldiers managed to keep them at bay. A few villagers thought the newcomers looked familiar.

Nolan stepped beside the just-as-beguiled Raymond. "Who are they?" the priest asked.