Threnody (Book 1) (32 page)
Chapter 33
September 31, 2015
Reverend Ezzard Mack knew he was in for a busy day. Even before the news reported much about the increasing incidence of suspected influenza-related sequelae, the escalating violence, and the civil unrest beginning to grip the United States as well as other regions overseas, Ezzard had already seen the cards. As a pastor and an astute observer of the human condition, he had seen the signs of the times and watched with dismay as the moral fiber of society steadily deteriorated all around him. He knew dark days were coming, and though he tried in earnest to prepare both himself and his congregation, he could never have prepared for what actually descended upon them that night.
As the deeply disturbing news became more widely dispersed, many people in his intensely religious community flocked to the Enoch Hill Baptist Church as they often did when tragedy struck. He remembered how many people came to the church after the disastrous tornadoes rocked the small community a couple of years ago; this evolving situation clearly had the potential to be so much worse. As the day morphed into night, Ezzard found himself staring out into an expansive sea of concerned and gravely troubled faces, and hoping he would be granted the grace to comfort them.
As he delivered reassuring words about God’s unfaltering love for his children and the mystery of His incomprehensible plan for them, he received the customary, ‘Amen,’ and, ‘Praise God,’ responses in reply. Though he was a dyed-in-the-wool southern Baptist preacher, he was always in tune with what his congregation needed, so he opted to minimize the ‘fire and brimstone’ content of his sermon that night.
At first the passionate sobs and prayers of the majority drowned out the screams and bedlam of the few, but it didn’t take long for the pandemonium to tear its way through the entire congregation. While most people had at least some idea of what was happening by this time, some were taken completely by surprise. Regardless, once the chaos engulfed the small church there was little anyone could do to stop it.
Around 9:30 P.M., Roger Hamilton – a local machinist – collapsed in his pew. He had been feeling ill for most of the afternoon and had chalked it up to a case of food poisoning and nerves. Earlier that morning he travelled to Birmingham to get some materials for an order he was working on and had not noticed any symptoms of illness at that time. After tending to his business, he stopped to eat at a local barbeque establishment, after which he was involved in a bizarre altercation with what he assumed to be a homeless drug addict.
The strange man approached Roger as he was getting into his truck, appearing to be incapable of any intelligible speech. The man muttered and groaned but did not ask for anything despite his outstretched arms and reaching hands. Roger knew something was wrong with the man but, being a Christian, he felt obligated to see if he could help him in any way. At over six feet tall and two hundred pounds, Roger was certainly not intimidated by the emaciated man.
When he managed to stagger to within a few feet of his truck, Roger was assaulted by the unimaginably noxious odor of the vagabond. The atrocious smell, like that of animal dung and tongue cancer marinated in rotting eggs and cabbage, caused waves of nausea to sweep through Roger’s greasy barbeque-filled stomach, momentarily taking him off guard. Unfortunately, this brief lapse in vigilance was all it took for the deranged man to sink his teeth into Roger’s right shoulder, as he stood doubled over by the threat of impending regurgitation. Swatting the uncoordinated vagrant aside with ease, Roger leapt into his truck and sped home. Only later when he started to feel ill did he begin to consider that whatever was wrong with the man outside the restaurant might be related to what the news was reporting.
He cleaned and bandaged his shoulder before putting on a fresh shirt and disposing of his old one. He was relieved that the wound did not hurt and thought that was certainly a good sign. Being on the back of his shoulder, however, he was unable to see the wound, and thus did not appreciate the dark discoloration around its edges that would have been interpreted as anything but a good sign. Not wanting to alarm his wife, Lou Ellen, he decided not to mention the incident to her when she came home from work. Instead, the couple simply got ready and headed to the church to join their friends and neighbors.
Now, as many around Roger Hamilton diligently tried to resuscitate him, others fervently prayed. When he finally began to stir, they were all elated by the fruit of their efforts and prayers. That elation, however, soon devolved into horror as Roger proceeded to rend the flesh from the neck of his loving wife, Lou Ellen, who sat hunched over his previously still form weeping tears of joy.
With only two exits, people quickly descended into a frenzied state of mass hysteria, trampling their own neighbors as they desperately tried to flee the carnage ignited by Roger Hamilton. Many people were crushed underfoot like South American soccer fans after a home team loss. Little did anyone know, the exit they fought so desperately to reach was not the gateway to salvation they sought. Had anyone in the congregation known what was happening and realized that a group of over fifteen revs waited outside, the threat of Roger and his newly infected wife could have been readily addressed, and the lives of many in attendance potentially saved. As it was, this was not the case, and the veritable army of revs took down nearly everyone who made it out the front door before they, in turn, poured into the church. All of a sudden those nearest the door began to surge back into those still frantically fighting to get out, making the problem exponentially worse.
Helpless, Ezzard watched in horror from the pulpit as his congregation was slaughtered. No one seemed to hear his adamant pleas for them to remain calm or his warnings about what was happening at the front door. While the throng of people attempting to escape the building graciously obscured much of the grisly detail from his view, the blood and gore spewing from gaping wounds and severed arteries made it appear as though his parishioners were marching blindly into a human meat grinder.
Like lambs to the slaughter…
In the end, only a few lucky people near the pulpit avoided being attacked by the infected or trampled by the parishioners in the confusion. They followed Ezzard, their chosen spiritual leader, into the preparatory room at the back of the church after discovering that the church’s rear exit was blocked by several more of the infected trying to get inside.
Once in the relative safety of the small room, the six people who followed Ezzard worked to barricade the door as his vision narrowed and his hearing faded. Though he knew the atrocities he witnessed over the last ten minutes would be forever burned onto the surface of his retinas, at that moment everything happening around him seemed to evaporate. A single question surfaced in his mind:
Why, God? Why?
Hearing no reply to his unspoken question, Ezzard was at first dismayed. As if being tested like Job, his faith took over, and he realized that his still being alive was at least part of the answer. He knew he must do everything in his power to save the few people still with him. As his senses returned, they ushered in the sights and sounds of the horrible reality he was trapped in. Outside, agonal screams and feral snarls accompanied the fierce banging on the door while inside only quiet, hopeless sobs and the winded panting of exertion arose.
Speaking in a commanding voice, loud enough to be heard over the collective din of noise, Ezzard said, “Hear me now, brothers and sisters! There is great evil in our house! Now, more than ever, you must be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. To stand, having your loins girt with the truth and wearing the breastplate of righteousness. And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith you shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Yes, brothers and sisters, put on the whole armor of God that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the Devil. And make no mistake, brothers and sisters, the Devil is here.”
His brief but fervent sermon had the desired effect as the fear that previously dominated the faces of each person in the small room faded. In all, there were four adults—two male and two female—as well as two female children. After a pause, a young man named Lonnie who had the athletic physique of a running back, stepped forward, and said, “Pastor, one of the people from the outside bit my hand before I made it in here. I’m not sure what is going on out there, but if the news reports are accurate, it seems to be some sort of contagious disease. Even though I was bitten less than an hour ago, I already feel like I am getting sick, and the skin around the wound doesn’t look too good. I feel that I am putting all of you at risk being in here,” said the young man as he held up his right hand and cast a serious gaze to the others around the room. The dark, discolored flesh surrounding the malodorous wound at the base of his thumb was instantly apparent to everyone.
Ezzard noticed a particularly emotional reaction from one of the females and recognized her as the man’s wife, Lydia. Before anyone had a chance to speak, Lonnie held up his left hand to silence any objections, and continued, “Now hear me out. If any of us are going to survive this, we have to get out of here first. That door is the only way out, and I don’t think anyone can make it through that crowd out there without ending up like me, and it’s…it’s too late for me, I can feel it. I’m not sure how much time I have, but I will push through them as far as I can and distract them for as long as I can. Give me five or ten seconds, then the rest of you make a break for the back door. There are some of them outside, but it’s your best shot to escape.”
Following the young man’s words, a cacophony of protests arose until Ezzard spoke again to silence them. “He’s right. I wish it weren’t so, but I think it’s the only way that anyone stands a chance to make it out of this room alive.”
Lonnie gave Ezzard an appreciative nod as the pastor continued, “The controls for the church’s P.A. system are in this room. They seem to be attracted to the sound of humans, so if we fade the speakers to the rear of the church and play a recording, we may be able to further distract them while we slip out the back.”
Lonnie looked at the pastor and the middle-aged man, Bill, with a resigned expression etched on his face. “You two ready? I want you guys out first after me, in case any of them slip past me.”
Both men nodded in affirmation. Then, turning to his young wife, he said, “I’m sorry, Lydia, but this is the only way. I love you, and I need you to promise me something. Promise me you won’t look into the mass of people out there. Promise me you won’t look back no matter what you hear. Focus on getting out the back door and getting to safety—nothing else. And when you make it through that door, keep running. And always be ready.”
With tears blurring her vision, choking her words, and soaking the soft skin of her face, all she could do was nod her head and hug him so tightly that she threatened to choke the life out of him right then. When Ezzard’s sermon from last week started playing in the back of the church, the horde indeed took notice. Without further ceremony, the young man pulled away, threw open the door, and charged headlong into the waiting horde.
Mustering everything he had, Lonnie smashed into the remaining infected mass propelling it back a couple of yards from the sheer force of the hit. They immediately folded around him, engulfing and incorporating him into their collective mass like a leukocyte around an invading bacterium. Ezzard was amazed at the number of infected the doomed man took down before ultimately occupying many more as they ripped him apart.
Ezzard murmured a short prayer then, ten seconds later, the remainder of the small group burst through the door like a shot, with Bill and Ezzard in the lead. Just as planned, the infected were preoccupied with Lonnie, who, to his credit, barely made a sound as they ripped and rived his flesh. Ezzard knew he remained silent for Lydia’s sake, and he thanked the Lord for giving the young man the strength to endure such a brutal, agonizing death with such grace and quietude.
The group made it to the back hallway before encountering any of the infected; several stood both inside and outside the back door, presumably drawn to the sound that the other made. Bill collided into the closest of the infected, slamming it hard into the wall before it slumped to the ground. He then grabbed the other two and slung them down the hall, away from the back door. As he turned back toward the door, a sharp, insufferable pain exploded from his leg as a pair of incisors, backed by more than a hundred pounds of pressure, pierced and crushed the flesh of his calf. His ensuing screams of pain immediately drew the attention of several of the infected on the outskirts of the main group centered on Lonnie’s still, mutilated form.
Ezzard knew it was his time to act, and he shoved back against the approaching revs with as much might as his aged body could muster. While he was able to nudge them back in small increments, none of them fell, and he knew it was just a matter of time before they tore him apart in much the same way as they had Lonnie and Bill. He pushed and pushed, yet despite his proximity to so many of the infected, none of them tried to attack him, or even seemed to notice he was there. Ezzard saw their gazes fixed on the fleeing women behind him and was confused by this. When he finally heard the back door open, relief washed over him like the cool night air that flowed in. His solace, however, was short-lived as he saw one of the children viciously dragged to the ground by several of the infected lurking outside the church. The other woman, whose name Ezzard could not recall, rushed to aid the fallen girl only to be mauled for her effort.