Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (80 page)

“I’m listenin’.”

“I need to get back to my house on Plainfield. If she’s alive, I know she’ll be there too. Can’t say for
sure, but I think our neighborhood was one of the first to come under attack. It’s been long enough that I doubt they’re patrolling that street
anymore. If she’s still alive, and I think she is, she’ll be there
hoping I return too.”

“And then what?” asked Sully. “You
gonna hang your Christmas decorations?”

John’s face dropped.

“It’s what I gotta do, and I can’t wait weeks for Alex to
get better and join me. I’m asking that you either let me go alone or that you
join me.”

Sully put the beer up to his mouth. The
end of the bottle disappeared into a cavernous mouth. John
watched Sully’s facial scars twitch with indecision. With the back of
his left hand, Sully wiped the beer froth from his beard.

“Fuck me. I’m always up for spilling
blood.”

John sighed and sat back on his milk crate until his head
rested on the wall.

“Can we leave now?”

“Slow down there, cowboy. I gotta get the boys rounded up,
decide who’s going, smoke a blunt. Got lots of things to do before we go
marchin’ into another firefight. Let’s party tonight and we’ll push out at the
crack of dawn tomorrow. How’s eleven a.m.?”

John’s mouth twisted toward a grin, and then pulled back to
a thin smile.

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Why don’t you go and check on your buddy. Crystal
says he’s come around. He’s weak, but at least you can tell him what’s
going on.”

Crystal appeared next to John and took him
by the hand. He followed the sway of her hips up to the flaming-dragon
tattoo on her lower back. Stretch marks crawled out from under
frayed jeans and behind the top of laced panties. Crystal spun to smile
at John, revealing crow’s feet and streaks of temple gray.

John followed the woman through a maze of
old sets and stage props, which had not been used for productions in quite a
long time and probably would not be for many years to come. He walked
under the yawning hole in the ceiling, which allowed the smoke from the fire
ring to escape.

Crystal stopped in the doorway of a
dressing room and held up one arm, pointing to Alex’s cot. Once John
entered, she disappeared back toward the stage.

Alex was on his back, boots off and sitting on the floor
underneath the cot. A musty, blue moving blanket covered him
from feet to neck. John saw scraps of tape stuck to it in various
places, artifacts of the ancients fleeing suburbia. He crept into the room and
heard Alex’s breathing, uneven and ragged, but consistent. As
John approached, Alex’s head tilted up.

“Ah, it’s you. I’d much prefer a biker babe in a Catholic
schoolgirl’s outfit.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I only wear that
for Jana.”

Alex began to laugh, but it took a violent turn toward a
cough. When the bout ended, a trickle of blood ran from the
corner of his mouth. John winced a little.

“Sorry, man.”

Alex pulled his hand from underneath the blanket and waved
it at John.

“Not your fault. You shouldn’t have
to warn a man before you make him laugh.”

“So what’s the deal? Is there anyone
here that can give you an accurate update on your situation?”

“Our talkative friend Crystal gave Sully a
report. From what I could understand, through beer spittle and
secondhand smoke, I was hit in the leg, shoulder, and chest. The
leg wound grazed the surface, and the other bullet went clean through my chest.
It may have hit a lung, enough to cause me minor discomfort. He said
that Crystal is worried about my shoulder because the slug is still in there. I’ve lost so much blood that if she tried getting to it, I could
bleed out. On the other hand, if she leaves it until I start to heal,
there is a high risk of infection. So that’s where we are. I’m
not sure I’ve decided what I want them to do.”

“Are you sure they’re going to give you a
choice?”

“No, not really. I’ve got vials of drugs we took from my
office that haven’t been smashed to shit through our little adventure. I’m
thinking about asking Sully to let Crystal try digging it out. I can dope myself up real good and, if I do go, I’ll go out on a
nice high. I can’t imagine letting infection eat me from the inside out.
No one should have to go that way. Well, almost no
one.”

Alex shook his head and coughed again into his hand. The faint odor of decay floated to John. He reached out to
touch Alex, and was repulsed by the feel of his cold, clammy skin.

“You sound pretty set with your decision.”

“Well, I’ve been laying here with nothing else to think
about. I can’t even think of finding my family if I’m not healthy.”

John looked around the room and spotted a feather boa
hanging from a dusty coatrack. He walked over and shook it free of dust mites
and spiderwebs. John wrapped it around Alex’s head like a bandana.

“I’ll see if I can get the road whores to party with you.”

Alex ignored John’s attempt at lightening
the mood.

“You don’t have to wait for me. Go. Do what you need to do.”

“Sully said he’ll come with me, bring his
guys and firepower.”

Alex coughed again. The fit brought a star-shaped burst of
red to his palm.

“Rest up. Hopefully I’ll be back
here with Jana and I can introduce you two. I think you’d get
along great.”

Alex smiled and looked at the ceiling. He
avoided John’s eyes. “Yeah, good luck, bro.”

***

Sully and his gang partied throughout the night. Beer appeared from behind doors and from under furniture. John
overheard the guys talking about the timing of the Apocalypse. The cold winter
would keep the beer chilled well into March, before they would have to worry
about it going skunk. By that time, they could get the bud in
the ground and be smoking homegrown by June.

John sat on a chair, nursing a beer throughout the night. The
men did not exclude him from the dice, cards, or fondling of women, but they
didn’t go out of their way to include him either. John laughed
at the absurdity of the situation. He sat amongst a group of lawless
outsiders existing on the periphery of society, scoffed at and ignored by the
mainstream. And now, he himself was on the outside: the taxpayer, the good
citizen, the husband, the homeowner. John wondered how long it
would take for the roles to reverse completely. If the Keepers of the
Wormwood gained control, who would they rebel against? John realized that it
did not really matter to the bikers if they “won”. They would
be happy allowing the Holy Covenant to control society the same way the
capitalists and lawmakers had before them. From their perspective,
nothing really changed except that they had fewer enemies. The Covenant removed
the middle ground, leaving two factions-- the Church and those that resist it. In a strange way, John felt relieved that his world became black and
white. The grays made people lazy, apathetic, and depressing. A woman
approached John from his left and sat on a milk crate, shaking him from his
contemplative state.

“I don’t care what they say. I think
it’s so romantic. I wish I had a guy that would do that for
me.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know nothing about it.”

“I think I do, sweetheart. So many
times, the last thing I’ve said to my man as he walked out the door was
something stupid, like ‘and don’t be late, asshole’. Or,
‘don’t forget cigarettes on the way home’. That eats me up inside. I’ve
lost men after that and I’ve had to live with those words forever. With you, I think you got something like that going on. I
think you need to talk to her, clear the air before your spirit can rest. It almost don’t matter if she lives or not; it’s for you, ain’t it?”

John stood and kicked his milk crate into the wall.

“What gives you the right, bitch?”

The woman smiled and exhaled a blue cloud of smoke toward
the ceiling. She stood and stepped right up to John. He
tasted the tobacco and beer on her breath and felt the soft cushion of her
breasts on his chest. John’s breath lodged in his chest.

“Because I know men, honey. She doesn’t
need you anymore than she needs a vibrator. I can see the guilt in your
eyes and I can feel it in your heart.”

“You don’t know me,” John replied. But
his knees buckled, and he thought the floor shifted under his feet.

“I think I do. There are certain
things we’re privy to that you’re not. We’ve been pushed to the margins of
society for so long that we’ve developed sensitivities to things you blindly
walk past. My great-grandmother came here from the heart of Romania. I’ve received just an echo of her Sight, but it’s enough for me to
smoke you out.”

“I need air.”

John left the odd biker chick standing by the milk crate. He looked over his shoulder at her as he walked toward the back
exit.

Chapter
35

“They are at the corner of Mayfield and Plainfield, sergeant.”

“How many?”

“Four.”

The sergeant turned and sent the cryptic
hand motions to the others. He saw the light reflect off of the scopes
as the men turned toward their anticipated targets.

“Do not, I repeat, do not engage except on
my command. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sergeant.”

The young soldier stood back and removed
the safety from his weapon.

***

The morning brought an unusual snow squall. While not
uncommon for lake-effect precipitation to douse the region with a chilling
rain, a major November snowstorm was rare.

Jana picked up her walking pace. She’d
kept well behind the two soldiers leading the way, and in front of Commander
Byron. The old soldier would never admit it to a woman, but Jana knew the march
was taking its toll on his withered muscles. Byron’s head
lolled, and he spent a good deal of time staring at the ground four feet ahead.
His arm tensed and shook at the end of the cane, straining to provide
equilibrium to a bent frame.

“This is it,” Jana declared.

Jana stopped walking. She stood in the middle of Mayfield
Road, facing the road sign attached to the telephone pole at the corner. Bullet holes punctuated ‘Plainfield Road’ in odd and profane ways.

The two soldiers stopped and turned toward Byron, awaiting a
command from him.

“How far down to take us to your house?”

Jana ignored the awkward turn of phrase.

“We’re on the right, where the road also
bends to the right. I’m guessing ten or twelve houses.”

“Sit.”

Commander Byron moved past Jana as she sat down on the curb.
Her long legs spread out over the edge of the road, collecting
dozens of dying snowflakes on her denim. The two soldiers moved closer
and stood on each side of Byron. He did most of the talking while the two
soldiers stood and nodded in agreement. Byron addressed Jana
again.

“The street under yours, Winston. Which is
the house that sits on you?” Byron’s eccentric word combination confused
Jana.

“You mean the street behind mine? Yes,
that’s Winston. Not sure what you mean about the sitting part.”

Byron’s English and use of vernacular
dissipated with his ability to walk without a limp. He slouched on his
cane and pushed words at Jana, as if the physical ordeal had left him little
energy to continue Americanizing his speech.

“I will not wait to strike you in blood. Answer
me.”

Jana shook her head, expelling snowflakes in every
direction. She stood and pointed to the row of houses that
backed up to her street.

“That is Winston and it runs parallel to Plainfield. If we head down Winston, you should be able to see the back of my
house. I will recognize it when we’re close.”

She threw a knowing look at the guard who’d watched her
urinate, then continued.

“I want to know what happens to me before I take you there,
Commander.”

“Let’s go,” said Byron to the guards,
ignoring Jana’s question.

“Wait!” she shouted.

The two soldiers moved beside her, ready to grab and secure
each arm if she refused to cooperate with the plan.

“I am to get you there,” said Byron. “What
happens to you after that is not for my concern.”

Jana stomped a foot into the fluffy snow
pile; the soldiers grabbed her wrists.

“You told me I would be turned over to Father and that no
harm would come.”

Byron ignored her yet again and hobbled down the sidewalk
toward Winston, with the guards pulling Jana along behind.

***

“They’re moving back down Mayfield towards Winston.”

The sergeant looked through his binoculars
and confirmed the message from his men in the field.

What fools
, he thought.
Do they really think we
won’t notice them coming in the back door
?

“Make yourselves known, but don’t engage.”

***

Two soldiers stepped into the barren street. Dead leaves and random trash hugged the corner of the fences. Electrical
lines spread out across sidewalks and lawns like dead serpents after a flood. No more than fifty yards away, the marksmen pointed their weapons
toward the approaching party.

Byron halted the two guards and continued, moving closer to
the armed soldiers. He saw the youth in their eyes and the glaze inspired by
the Warriors of Christ. Commander Byron held up both hands and
called out to them.

“Brothers of the Holy Covenant! How I am
happy to see you! I am Commander Byron, soldier of God and servant to
Father. I have a delivery for him.”

Neither soldier moved. They stood with legs apart, ready to
fire at the slightest indication of trouble.

“Please contact your superior officer and
let him know of my arrival. The delivery is behind me.”

Byron swung his arm around to where the soldiers and Jana
stopped in the middle of the road.

“If you come closer, we will engage,” said
one of the soldiers to Byron. “Wait until we can verify your identity
and mission.”