The Travelling Man (24 page)

Kevin had wanted her to deputize some of their number and arm them. While she thought that it might come to that, she still hoped that they hadn’t reached that point yet. She tried to keep everyone organised with jobs to keep their minds off any thoughts of trouble. There had been a few isolated incidents amongst their number. A few young teenagers had raided what remained of The Oasis Bar and had got drunk; thankfully, they seemed to have learnt the painful truth of a hangover which had put them off similar future private parties.

“Sheriff, over here,” Kravis called from across the street.

She wandered over to him, glad that he was remembering to use her official title as she’d asked when they were in public. It was a small gesture, but she felt that it was important to maintain her authority.          

“Johnson’s Hunting Supplies” was a store that had been in Granton for as long as anyone could remember. The store had shifted to one side slightly with a drunken lean and all of the windows were smashed. Rubble blocked the main entrance and she was pleased that there didn’t seem to be a need to barricade the place.

Kravis was stood around to the side of the building and waved her over. Her eye was immediately drawn to the side door that looked like it had been forced open by hands rather than the quake.

She motioned for him to step aside and drew her weapon before easing her way into the store. Inside, there were shelves and rubble strewn about as the ceiling had collapsed and left an obstacle course to navigate .

She stepped over the mess, watching the walls carefully, terrified that the rest of the building could fall down about her ears at any second. It didn’t take long for her to see what had spooked Kravis. All of the gun racks behind where the counter had stood were empty; a quick check showed her that all of the ammo cabinets had been forced open and the ammo taken.

“Was this any of our guys?” Kravis asked, appearing behind her.

Despite her unease, she couldn’t help but notice his use of “our guys” and wondered just how he saw himself now. “No,” she said shaking her head.

“The church?”

“Maybe,” she sighed.

“There’s a lot of empty shelves here, Cassie,” he whispered. “What the hell would they want that amount of guns for?”

Cassie didn’t have an answer. She could only look at the looted gun racks, feeling a stab of deep dark fear in her gut.

----------

Gilbert Grange was starting to feel like his old self again. He knew that he would never be the man that he had been, but at least he was starting to see and think clearer once more.

His whole soul ached from top to bottom and he wasn’t sure just how much time that he had left. The dawn, that he would not rise to see, was fast approaching and despite his eons of time, he still felt cheated. His power reserves were almost drained and he’d had no idea just how much the quake would take out of him. Normally, his job was to operate in the shadows and stay out of sight; the deals that he made were conducted in private and were not for public consumption. He had been at his job for a long time and he had soon learnt that villagers were apt to chase him, brandishing lit torches and pitchforks if he wasn’t careful. But now the end was near and he had grown weary of living in the shadows. He wanted to go out with a bang, a ‘going out of business grand fire sale’ to reach the heavens and demand attention. He no longer had to fear discovery and retribution, for he no longer had to fear anything.

He looked around the mine owner’s office. Jim Lesnar was seated behind the desk waiting patiently while Bobby Cohen could barely keep still. Gilbert had always needed such pawns to do his dirty work as he was loath to soil his own hands.

He reached out with his mind and had to concentrate far more than he had ever had to before to survey Granton. His interior eye soared as a crow over the small town. The bird flew up the hill until it reached the church. Inside, he could hear the sounds of rhythmic singing, raised voices of praise offering worship and devotion. He could also sense the desperation in their tones; these were the good, God-fearing folks of Granton who demanded answers to their current predicament. He had found that the superstitions of men ran deep and no amount of time or scientific technology could shake those primeval instincts.

He had placed a barrier across this cow splat of a town, sealing it off from the rest of the world. It was a huge drain on his limited resources but he had to remove them all from reality. There would be no radio or cell phone signals here, no power, and no help or escape. It was like trapping insects beneath a glass on a hot summer day and watching them squirm. Some would seek out a common cause, while others would turn on each other with shocking viciousness. The beauty of Granton was that it was already in the middle of nowhere, it received precious few visitors, and, for now at least, he was able to suspend the fact that it had ever existed at all. No one beyond the town borders currently had any knowledge of the place or its people and nobody was about to come looking. This was his sandpit now and he could play for as long as his remaining strength held.

He concentrated harder and moved the crow through an open window and inside the church, passing over the congregation. Their numbers had swollen but not quite by the figure that he had hoped. Granton was split down the middle, but it was a more even split than he had anticipated. He had designed the quake to leave only a few pieces on the chess board, burying the vast majority of meat sacks into the ground.

The crow then drifted out and down the hill into the town itself. The other half of Granton was congregated inside the Town hall, save for a few inconsequential stragglers. The central building was a hive of activity, but as he drew closer he could suddenly feel the unexpected block of a barrier. His forehead crinkled back at the mine and sweat ran down his face as he strove to push past the barricade. He didn’t understand what could be wrestling him here as he had assumed that he was omnipotent, but now something was fighting him.

He circled the Town Hall, trying to peer through the windows, but they were black to him and he could not see inside. He could feel the numbers inside, but he knew that there was someone special here. This was the reason that he had come to Granton; it wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t a faceless fate - he had sought out this person and he wasn’t to be disappointed. There was a power inside the building, someone of unchecked potential and he knew that he had been right. He did indeed require a successor, just not Jim Lesnar. He had struggled not to laugh in the pathetic twisted man’s face when he’d told Lesnar that he was his chosen successor. The very idea of a stunted freak like the mine owner was too laughable for words. He looked over at Lesnar now and his stomach churned at the very thought of allowing such a creature to ascend to this lofty position. No, there was another in town, another far more worthy heir; they just didn’t know it yet.

----------

Will Daniels threw the expensive Smartphone against the wall in sheer exhausted frustration. The plastic shattered and shiny black pieces were torn open, exposing miniature computerized workings.

It had been a week now since the quake and he still struggled to get his mind around the fact that Granton hadn’t been descended upon by the forces of every natural disaster relief organisation in the country. They should have been inundated with help, and yet no one had showed.

There was seemingly no way to contact the outside world and no way to reach them. It seemed like they were stuck in some kind of terrible dream from which they were unable to wake.

“You okay?” Sera Gamble asked.

He turned to face her, as she spoke without her usual amount of cynical sarcasm. Since the quake that had all but destroyed their town, she had mellowed a little.

“Fine,” he answered.

“You know, there’s a whole room of stuff back there if you’re not done with wrecking things,” she grinned.

“Ha-ha,” he grimaced. “How the hell are you so calm?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “What other choice is there?”

“Where are they? Where’s the rest of the world?” he asked in small scared voice.

Sera moved close to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, burying her head against his chest. “It’ll be fine,” she said soothingly. “Everything happens for a reason, Will, I firmly believe that. I don’t know what this all is, but I don’t think that we’re getting out of it until it’s done.”

“And in the meantime?”

“We watch out for each other, Will; it’s all we can do now.”

----------

“So what are we saying?” Doc Stewart demanded irritably to the room.

Cassie, Kevin, Jeanne, Kravis and Dr Stewart were gathered in the small Town Hall office away from prying ears and eyes.

“That we need to be careful,” Cassie replied.

“That we need to know what they’re doing up there,” Kevin insisted forcefully.

“You’re saying that Father Luther and his congregation are dangerous?” Doc Stewart scoffed. “I’ve known the man for over 30 years, Sheriff. Bruce is a good and decent man. A priest, no less!”

“Look, Doc, there have been rumors about the church. We’ve got a couple of people who came down here from there because they didn’t like what Luther was saying and how he was saying it. Lita Bodie was up there with her sister, Kathleen, and she got scared, Doc, real scared.” Cassie spoke as quietly as she could, not wanting to start a panic. “One of the hunting stores was looted and someone carried out every gun and piece of ammo that the place had in stock. One or two weapons, I could understand; there are still some stragglers about town who might want to arm themselves, but the place was picked clean, Doc, and that scares the hell out of me.”

“Look, this all sounds like paranoia to me,” Doc Stewart blustered. “This is an incredibly tense situation for all of us and we need clear heads right now. The emergency services will be here any day and you, Sheriff, just have to keep the peace a little while longer.”

“Jesus, Doc, no one’s coming, don’t you get that?” Kevin exploded. “No one is going to help us because they can’t see us!”

“You’re a deputy of Granton, Kevin Bridges, and I’d expect you to act as such,” Doc Stewart retorted haughtily. “Blind panic is going to get us nowhere.”

“It’s been a week now, Doctor,” Kravis said, calmly speaking for the first time since they’d gathered. “You really think that if they were coming they wouldn’t have been here by now? We’re on our own and personally I don’t have the attachment and faith that you guys might have in your town. Right now, I’d sleep a little better if I knew what was going on up at that church.”

“I second that,” Kevin replied.

“Me too,” Jeanne agreed.

Cassie looked around the room. The five of them had assumed the responsibility of leadership. She and Kevin still wore the gold badges of authority and Jeanne was extended the courtesy as not only was she an employee of the Police Department, she also seemed to be permanently joined at Kevin’s hip. Doc Stewart was the oldest and most respected member of their group and Matt Kravis was a just a guy that Cassie felt more comfortable keeping close. Their group was tasked with keeping them fed, watered, and safe from harm, and right now that meant doing a little reconnaissance on the church.

She had spoken to Lita Bodie and the woman’s fears had seemed credible. The theft of the guns had caused her a sleepless night and, for the first time, she, Kevin and Kravis had taken turns on sentry duty. She had already started to draw up a rota to make the sentry duty a more permanent thing; it was a depressing thought.

“Alright, Kravis and I will take a look to see what Father Luther is up to,” she decided.

“No,” Kravis said firmly.

“Excuse me?” she asked in surprise.

“You’re the boss here, Sheriff. You’re the one that’s irreplaceable,” Kravis said quietly. “If something goes wrong then we can’t afford to lose you.”

“Seconded,” Kevin said.

“Thirded…, if that’s even a word,” Jeanne added awkwardly.

“Then who?” Cassie said, exasperated. They were a committee of five with the idea that there would always be a majority vote.

“I’ll do it,” Kravis said. “My face is the least known.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kevin nodded.

“Best if I go alone,” Kravis disagreed. “We can’t afford to lose you either, big man.”

“But we
can
afford to lose you?” Cassie said, a little too quickly, blushing slightly and  hoping that no one noticed. It was a feeling that had snuck up on her without her realizing it. She had come to rely on Kravis, as much as Kevin and the others relied on him, in such a short space of time.

“Don’t worry, Cassie, I’m not going anywhere,” Kravis said, looking her straight in the eye. “Not yet.”

CHAPTER 16

drawing a line

Kravis hiked up and out of the town centre towards the church. Cassie had provided him with a small .38 revolver that was sitting snugly in the back of his pants. He had never so much as held a gun before and the cold metal felt slick and oily in his hand. He hadn’t wanted to take the gun but Cassie had insisted and he had soon found that when the Sheriff insisted, she wasn’t asking.

They had grown a little closer during the past week, comrades thrown together by extreme circumstances he supposed. Ever since his sister had been taken by the monster, the idea of a romantic life seemed as alien as growing tentacles out of his ass, but now he did find himself wondering about Cassie. She was a woman of great strength and substance and he would hate to see where Granton would be without her.

He ducked behind the shell of a pharmacy as he heard voices approaching. He hid behind a mound of rubble until they passed. He had no idea if the two men were in any way dangerous, but right now he had no intention of finding out. He had rolled into Granton on the trail of the thing that had destroyed his life and taken that of his sister. He had expected to find the man creeping about in the shadows out of sight and reach, and yet he had stepped into a wasteland apocalypse. The whole town now lay in the middle of nowhere, forsaken by the outside world with seemingly no prospect of help on the horizon. He had no idea just what the man now calling himself Gilbert Grange had in store, but he knew that it couldn’t be good.

Once he was sure that the men had gone from sight he stepped back out into the day again. For some reason, he was sure that the temperature of the day was excessive, even for a desert location. The air was thick and heavy with a dry heat that sapped his strength and mind and all he wanted to do was to find a shady corner and sleep.

He shook the malaise from his thoughts and pressed forwards on to his destination. The road up out of town was largely unscathed and he had little trouble reaching the outskirts of the church’s land. He couldn’t see any guards posted, but that didn’t mean that no one was watching. He could feel Grange’s eyes cast out across the skyline and he knew that the man was watching all. He genuinely had no idea just what Grange was or how he could be stopped. He wished that he had a secret weapon, a magical amulet or cursed dagger, something to slay the beast, but he had nothing but his own conviction and a stony heart of hate.

There was a low fence that surrounded the graveyard and he hopped over it with cautious ease. The headstones stood on sentry duty, keeping watch against intruders in the garden of the dead. The church building sat around a hundred yards or so in front of him and there was precious little cover between them.

He crouched down behind a large tombstone and secreted himself behind the black granite. On the still hot air, he could hear the sounds of raised voices singing in unison. It was just a gentle hymn of prayer but there was something unearthly about the voices that chilled him to the bone. He had grown up in a deeply religious family, but his own faith had been severely strained by what had happened to Cerys. It had not broken entirely, but it was hanging on by a very thin thread.

He crept forward carefully, watching out in every direction, ready to run or hide. He was surprised to find his way unimpeded but his relief soon turned to uneasiness. He reached the thick stone walls of the church and pressed his back up against the cool surface. Inside, the congregation seemed to reaching fever pitch as their voices lifted and soared in praise to God and Kravis couldn’t help but wonder if the big man was even listening.

He eased his way around to the rear of the building and found an unlocked door. He pushed it open gingerly, listening intently for sounds inside, but - save for the singing - he could hear nothing else.

He stepped inside quickly and gently closed the large wooden door behind him. The room inside was kitted out as a kitchen and he was glad for the coolness of the interior. The kitchen was rather small with basic but clean equipment and it was, thankfully, empty of people.

Kravis crossed the room quietly and slowly eased open the door to the church that lay beyond. The hymn had faded away and the echoing hall was now silent. He peeked through the cracked door and could see the filled pews with their backs towards him. Father Bruce Luther stood at the front behind a podium. His face was taut and aged but his shoulders looked broad and proud. Kravis could feel an electricity crackling in the air, even as far away as he stood hiding at the back.

“My children,” Luther began. “We sit here in the darkest day of the darkest time that we have ever known. Our faith and our love are being tested like never before and God’s eyes are upon us all. We have tough decisions to make and sacrifices must be made in his name. But is it not darkest before the dawn? Is not the sweetest prize the hardest to earn? Our redemption is within our grasp but we have to deserve it, my sons and daughters; we have to show God that we are still worthy.”

Kravis could feel the tension in the room as every person’s full attention was trained on the priest. Many heads were nodding in silent agreement and Kravis could feel their hunger for answers.

“God said ‘I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell on the earth.’ That day is fast approaching, my children. Our
judgment is at hand, and we will all have to face our trial before God,” Luther said as his voice started to rise. “We are running out of time, my children. The Rapture is upon us and we must be held accountable for our sins and our failings. But it is not too late, IT IS NOT TOO LATE!” Luther raged, slamming his fist down on the podium.

Kravis started to feel deeply uncomfortable at the priest’s rhetoric. As he looked out, he saw that several male members of the church had moved slowly forwards to stand behind Luther. The men were all large and beefy and, most unnervingly, all of them had automatic rifles slung over their shoulders.

“We have the chance to save ourselves, my children. We have God’s word which will lead us towards redemption and deliver us from the evil that has plagued our town running unchecked by the righteous. We have to stand up against those forces that have brought about God’s wrath and destroyed Granton. But it is not too late; we can reclaim our rightful place at his side and earn back his love.”

Kravis watched as those seated in the pews rocked back and forth as though their minds were now linked by a single cause and voice. He heard murmurs of “Amen” and no one seemed frightened by the priest’s armed backup.

Kravis eased back out into the kitchen. The sight of the stolen weapons and the words of the priest were enough to make him deeply nervous and to want to get the hell out of there.

He ducked back behind the door and closed it softly. He breathed a long sigh of relief as he turned to leave.

“Who the hell are you?” a man demanded from behind.

Kravis stared at the man who was several inches taller and a lot of pounds heavier. The man held a pump action shotgun out in front of him and Kravis’ heart sank as the man’s hands were steady and his eyes clear.

“I just took a wrong turn, is all,” Kravis shrugged, trying to sound scared which wasn’t all that difficult considering the circumstances.

“You’re not one of us,” the man stated, rather than asked. “You’d better come with me.”

“Hey, I just wanted to join; you guys really seem to have a community up here,” Kravis started.

The man stepped forward and hit him hard across the face with the butt of the shotgun. The impact sent Kravis crashing down to the floor, clutching his face. He could feel the bitter copper taste of blood in his mouth and his jaw ached.

“You’re one of them,” the man spat. “You are one of the fallen that have led us to this point.” The man cocked the gun and pointed it at Kravis’ head. “Father Luther has shown us the way and you must be destroyed.”

Kravis could do nothing but lie on the floor and bleed as the man tightened his finger on the trigger. He could see that the man was going to fire and he wracked his brain for a way to stop it, but he came up empty. He was preparing to hopefully meet his sister once again when the shotgun wielding zealot suddenly went limp and slumped forwards. Kravis looked up and saw the very large and very welcome frame of Deputy Kevin Bridges.

----------

Bobby Cohen slipped into town largely unnoticed. He wore one of his usual smart business suits, but it had seen better days. He no longer felt the need to show the world his expensive wardrobe as he no longer felt any desire to seek the approval of others. He knew that he had now ascended beyond the pettiness of his surroundings and those that he had laughably once called peers. Now he walked the earth with the assurance that he was touched by the hand of God, or at least
a
god.

He was armed with a snub nosed .44, a long vicious silver knife and a name tattooed onto his brain.
Mr. Grange had been explicit in his instructions and Bobby knew that he had to follow them; he also knew that he was now more than capable. Mr. Grange had bestowed a gift of the ultimate confidence upon his shoulders, although Bobby now thought that such confidence had been within him all along.

Mr.
Grange had told him where his target was going to be and when, and as usual the man was right. Bobby clung to the shadows as he followed the man along what had once been Main Street. The stores that had once been proud examples of a small town’s healthy enough prosperity now looked like the ancient ruins of a bygone age. Bobby had no idea just what the future held, but he knew that he was perfectly positioned to sit at the hand of the king.

“Morning, Doc,” Bobby called out when he was sure that they were unobserved.

Dr Stewart turned in shock at the unexpected voice. “Bobby? Jesus, you startled me.”

“Sorry,” Bobby said putting on his warmest smile.

“I haven’t seen you around town; are you up at the church?”

Bobby could feel the wariness behind the question. “No, I’m kind of…, independent,” he shrugged. “I lost Cora in the quake and I suppose I just couldn’t bear to leave her.” Even as he spoke the words, he could feel that they weren’t exactly true. There was a foggy haze surrounding his wife and he couldn’t help but feel like he had forgotten something important, something that he had done. He remembered that
Mr. Grange had spoken to him at length the other night when he had been feeling melancholy and after that little chat, he had felt somehow better.

He shook the intruding and confusing thoughts from his mind. “I was wondering if you had any room at the inn, so to speak?”

“Certainly, Bobby; we can use all the good men we can get,” the Doctor smiled back warmly.

“Trouble?” Bobby asked innocently.

“I don’t know. Folks are understandably mighty nervous at the minute and some of them are just about ready to jump to some pretty wild conclusions. You can give me a hand. I’m just going to root through my old practice for a supply run,” Doc Stewart said as they started to walk together.

“You said something about the church?”

“The Sheriff and that new guy, Kravis, are convinced that Father Luther is running some sort of dangerous cult up there.”

“Kravis?”

“Yeah, some guy that popped up in town before all this happened. He and the Sheriff are getting pretty chummy, let me tell you.”

Bobby walked alongside the Doc as they headed towards where the man’s clinic had once stood, all the while keeping a careful eye out for potential witnesses. The doctor’s office was a modest two-storey building that had originally been a domestic dwelling. Bobby should have found it impossible to believe that
Mr. Grange had managed to organize the quake in such a specifically targeted way. The streets that he wanted destroying were, the buildings were collapsed where he chose, the roads were impassable to avoid escape and no technology seemed to work inside the quarantine zone. It should have been impossible to believe, but he had met Mr. Grange and spent time in his presence. He was convinced that there was nothing that Mr. Grange could not do if he so chose. “How’s everyone coping at the Town Hall?”

Doc Stewart looked suddenly very old and very frail. “It’s too big to try and wrap your head around,” he sighed heavily. “So many deaths, so much destruction, I think that the only way to avoid blowing your brains out is to just find a task and stick to it; anything else, and you’ll go insane trying to make sense of it.”

They’d reached the Doc’s place and the old physician ducked in through the opening inside of the front wall as though he’d been here before. Bobby took another look around before he followed him in. “Wouldn’t it make sense to transport any supplies to the Town Hall in one go?”

“Find a task and stick to it,” the Doc said quietly. “I’ve been shipping stuff over as and when needed. It gives me something to do.”

Bobby watched as the Doc started to root through some cabinets that had clearly been righted again after a lot of the house had fallen around them. The physician started to fill a backpack that he carried with first aid supplies and a small vial of clear liquid.

“Deborah Scully’s kid is diabetic,” Doc Stewart said as he saw Bobby watching him.

“Bad?”

“Bad enough,” Stewart conceded. “I was hoping that we’d have been rescued by now but…,” he trailed off.