World Memorial (32 page)

Loved her.

Angie bit her lip, searching in the cold. She had to find Maylee. She hadn’t meant the things she'd said. She hadn't meant any of it.

Park stomped back out, holding tools in his hands. A hammer and wrench, a crowbar. He hopped off the metal steps and stepped over to Elton.

"Think a fuckhead could pry open metal with these?" he said, brandishing the items for Elton and the others to see. He held them up to give everyone a better look. "Or take out nails?"

"A man can't have tools in his camper?" yelled Elton, stomping over to snatch the things from Park. Park kept clear of him.

More people gathered around. Angie looked for the guards. Most of them appeared to be present. She cleared her throat, loudly.

"Everyone!" She yelled out. "We need to form a...."

She trailed off, noticing two things. First, the guards and the townsfolk were forming two distinct groups. One group was gathering behind her. The other was gathering behind Elton. Carly’s position by the rope put her on Elton’s side.

"Fuck me," said Park off to her side. "If this don't look familiar."

Angie nodded, noticing the second thing. The trees around the town were shaking. Hard. Wind whistled through the metal that made up the town. A storm was coming.

"We have to hurry!" she shouted, despite the wind. "We have to find my daughter!"

Elton snorted, his face mirrored by those behind him. "With a storm coming? You must be out of your mind!"

"She is a member of this town!"

"And your daughter!" called someone behind Elton, a young man with a weather-worn face. Angie scanned her mind for his name. She didn't know it. Fuck her, she didn't know it. "You didn't form a party to search for that boy! You waited until morning!" Those around him murmured their agreement.

The wind picked up, rattling the buildings. "You're no better than anyone else," Elton said, looking at Angie. "And neither's your daughter."

Angie stared back at him. It was true. She had waited until the storm had passed to look for Zach. But this was different.

Was it?

Park settled the matter for her, stomping over and punching Elton across the face.

And with that the square exploded. The two groups that had formed behind Elton and Angie screamed at each other, punched each other, shoved each other onto the ground. Chaos ruled for a several minutes as Angie watched everything falling apart around her. She thought of the chaos at the zoo. She thought of how many had followed her to their deaths. She thought of how she had let chaos consume them.

Galli of the Guard looked at her, rifle ready. His eyes were questioning. Angie shook her head, pointing up with her free hand. Galli fired three times up into the dark sky. Everyone stopped fighting at the first crack. They fell completely quiet by the third.

Angie broke the silence. "Everyone stop! This is crazy!" She looked at all the people gathered in the square. Some looked at her with support. Some looked at her like she was the enemy. "We have never had a jail here but so help me I will make one!”

Elton turned to the crowd. He started pacing as he shouted. "Who here is tired of living under this crippled woman's rule? You see who she brings with her? This violent bearded ass! Her perverted daughter! Her freak son! It's time the normal people had a say!"

A cheer went up among the crowd behind Elton. The crowd with Angie was silent. Angie was suddenly glad the house was behind her. At that moment, looking at all those gathered against her, Angie doubted she'd be able to get through them if she had to.

Carly was still standing on Elton's side of the square, where she'd been standing before the fight had broken out. She stepped over to Angie's side and turned to face Elton. Elton's eyes shot murder at her.

Angie looked over at Carly. Angie looked to Elton. She pointed her cane at him. "You keep the fuck away from the house." She was angry, enraged. She hoped the anger made her sound strong.

Elton stared at her. He looked like he was sincerely considering storming the house right then. Those behind him looked ready to follow. Angie felt the ones behind her prepare to fight. She braced herself, waiting for an explosion of violence she hoped didn't come. The wind howled outside. Any moment, and they'd all have to take cover.

"For now," said Elton. He stomped off. Those with him stared at Angie, the house, and those with her. Then they broke apart from the group, all going their separate ways.

Angie put her cane down and leaned on it. She breathed out, and everyone around her relaxed. The wind whipped around them. She turned to look at those with her, grateful for the townsfolk who'd stuck with her. They looked back. Park and Dalton looked back. Her half of the Guard looked back.

Galli of the Guard spoke first. "Should we form a search party?"

"No," said Angie, choking through her tight throat. "Elton did have one thing right. There is a storm coming."

Those with her looked uncertain, especially Carly. Angie stepped over to her. The wind was coming on strong.

"Listen," said Angie, leaning in close to Carly, "Maylee's strong. She'll survive the night. We'll find her in the morning."

"Yeah," said Carly. Her eyes told her she wasn't sure.

"Let's get in the house," Angie said.

She and the others turned and headed for the house. Just before she reached the door, Angie looked at the Guard.

"We may need some protection."

* * *

Joel sat back in the pew, enjoying the feel of the worn wood on his back. This place had seen generations of believers, and Joel was here at the end. Joel was blessed enough to see the fulfillment of things. The Lord's wonderful plan. He gazed at the stained glass windows over the stage. It was dark outside, muting the ordinarily bright colors, but there was still beauty there. It brought Joel comfort.

And old man and woman were on the stage, mopping up the remains of the ceremony. The old couple had been together as long as Joel could remember. They'd probably been part of the church for even longer, back before the dead had risen. Back before Joel had become the preacher. They were happy here. They smiled as they moved their mops back and forth, happy to serve the Lord. The mops were stained pink.

The rest of the flock sat around him, basking in the afterglow of worship. A calm joy hung in the air. Some were still praising God, whispering low and fervently. Joel turned in the pew to gaze over them. They rocked back and forth, held their hands in the air. They looked to the floor, hands fervently clasped in prayer. For a moment, Joel wondered where the blonde-haired woman had gone. She never said a word, but Joel didn’t doubt her sincerity. He scanned the flock, looking for her face. Eventually, he assumed she was bent over in prayer, out of sight, and turned back to the front.

Sister Elizabeth was at her piano, playing softly, slowly. Sometimes seconds passed between notes. It was the most beautiful thing Joel had ever heard. She'd played a medley of hymns and was nearing the end of the current one.

She stopped, letting the last note ring in the air. The silence that followed was sacred. Carefully, reverently, she stood from her bench and shut the keyboard cover. She walked slowly across the chapel to Joel. She sat next to him and gazed at the stained glass.

A few seconds passed before she spoke. "Was that the one?"

The question hung there for a moment. Those around Joel fell quiet, listening. Joel felt the weight of the question. He reached out to the Lord with his spirit, asking. Was it? Had he and his flock received the blessing? Could they walk among the dead without fear? Would the protection they had during worship now apply to every moment?

He reached out a moment longer. There was no clear answer, but the blissful feeling still hung in the ear, still hung on Joel's heart.

"Perhaps," he said, finally. He felt—he could actually
feel
—the electrical jolt his word sent through the others. He knew why. He'd never said it before. He'd never thought it before. He'd only talked of one day, one day when they'd finally do enough, when the Lord's blessing would come forth.

But Zach had
glowed
. None of the children had glowed. Maybe it was a sign.

He stood from the pew and turned to look at them. "Perhaps."

The flocked looked back at him. Even through the joy of worship, their faces were tired, weary, worn down by everything they had seen. By the horrors everyone had seen since the Lord's judgment had begun. But they also looked hopeful. Maybe, he knew they were thinking, maybe this
was
the one.

He looked to the wall. The corpses were still chained there. They groaned, struggling feebly against their bonds. He considered them. The vessels the Lord had chosen to cleanse the earth. The same vessels Joel and the flock would overcome. One day. Maybe today.

He stepped over to the wall, taking slow deliberate steps across the wood floor of the chapel. His footsteps echoed in the quiet still of the room. He could feel the expectation of the others. It hung like a weight.

He stopped a few feet from the nearest corpse. It was a young man, his face covered in oozing sores. His eyes were white and his grey lips worked up and down as he chewed at the air. He reached for Joel, straining against the chain holding him. The metal band across his neck dug into his dead flesh, sending thin tendrils of black blood down his front.

Joel stared at the corpse a moment longer. He reached his spirit out to the Lord one last time. "Is it time, Lord?" he prayed quietly. "Are we safe now?"

No answer. The corpse strained against the chain, groaning and reaching.

Joel lifted his hand, presenting it to the corpse. A few inches from the furthest the corpse could reach. The corpse gnashed its teeth at it. Joel let it hang there a moment, wondering if it was safe.

He felt the expectation of the people behind him. He felt warmth spread through his spirit. It was time. They were safe.

He moved his hand toward the corpse's mouth.

The door to the chapel slammed open.

Joel turned, dropping his hand. The corpse groaned in something that almost sounded like disappointment. The rest of the flock turned to look.

Timothy stumbled in. Beaten, bloody and ashen. One arm hung limp at his side, bobbing uselessly as he stumbled. For a moment Joel thought he had turned, that Timothy had fallen prey to the dead and was now one of them.

Then he spoke. "Joel....Brother Joel..."

Joel rushed across the chapel, heading for him. The others stood up, looking to Timothy and each other, muttering nervously. Joel could now see the blonde woman. She remained seated, head down in fervent prayer.

"Brother Timothy!" said Joel as he drew near. "What happened?"

Timothy fell to the floor before Joel could reach him. He rolled over on his back. Joel knelt at his side. The others crowded around, looking down. Joel studied Timothy. He looked bad. His arm was plainly broken and he was covered in bruises, but he looked worse than those would account for. Then Joel found a bloody spot on one of Timothy's legs, torn skin underneath the cloth. The skin was grey and oozing black. Timothy had been bitten and didn't have long.

"What happened?" said Joel. "Brother Timothy, where are the others?"

"Dead... she left them to die...."

"Who did?"

"The girl. We chased them, like you said."

"I'm so sorry, Brother Timothy,” Brother Joel said ruefully. “I never should have sent you good men out into danger."

Timothy grabbed Joel's arm, his fingers digging into the fabric of his suit with surprising strength. Timothy shook his head. "No, no. Don't be sorry. God's plan..."

Then he slumped back to the floor. For a moment Joel thought he was gone.

Timothy stirred again, his head lolling on the floor. "The boy...the boy...." He pawed limply at the floor.

Joel took his hand. It was cold. Not dead cold, but getting close. "What, Brother?"

"The ones we followed. The girl. The boy. The boy is chosen. I followed them. I saw."

"Saw what, Timothy?"

"The boy, Brother Joel. The boy is chosen."

Joel looked to Sister Elizabeth. Her face told him she shared his thoughts. She hurried to the piano. While Timothy moaned and Joel gripped his hand, Sister Elizabeth opened the bench at the piano and fished around inside. She pulled out a packet of papers and shut the bench. She hurried back.

She knelt alongside Joel and Timothy. "Brother?"

"Sis…Sister Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Brother," she said, holding the papers in front of him. They were her sketches, the ones she'd drawn after the visions. Joel questioned why the visions had come to her and not him, and immediately chastised himself for his envy.

Elizabeth flipped through drawing after drawing. All of the children. The precious children. Timothy looked as they went by, his mouth opening and closing silently. Joel wondered if Timothy was still with them.

Then Elizabeth flipped to the next to last drawing. Timothy jerked his hand up, jabbing his finger at the paper.

"Him," said Timothy. "The boy. I followed him. I saw where he went. Twenty dollars says the others are there, too." He chuckled and fell into a coughing fit.

Joel chuckled, tears welling up. Timothy had been a gambling man, enslaved by his addictions before he'd been saved, before he'd known the Lord.

Then Joel suddenly knew why the warmth had come over him. He'd thought it was confirmation to try the corpse's mouth. But no, it was because Brother Timothy was almost there. Timothy with his wonderful news. He'd found another of the children. One that had caused this much trouble to get. One that was this difficult. Surely this was the one. This boy. Joel gazed at the picture, now smudged by Timothy's bloody finger.

"I followed them," said Timothy, coughing. The cough was deep and gurgling. Blood dribbled from his mouth.

Joel knew he was losing him. It broke his heart to have to push the poor dying soul, but he had no choice. "Where are they, Brother? Where are the children?"