Blood Cult (14 page)

I sprinted up
the hallway of the farmhouse and bolted out of the front door. I made for the
car, seeing that the driver’s door was wide open.

Reaching the far side, I quickly scanned the empty interior and then
turned to the barns. ‘CHRISSIE!’

My gaze settled on the double doors at the near end of the closest
building. One of them was ajar and I made for it with my heart pounding
furiously, tears gathering in my eyes.

‘Be careful, Leah,’ called Tyreese as I neared the barn.

I reached the doors and backed against the wall to the side. ‘Whoever’s
in there, please don’t harm my daughter,’ I called in through the gap.

There was no response.

I sidled towards the entrance, painfully aware that the wood panels at my
back probably wouldn’t stop a gunshot if someone fired from within. I peered
into the darkness, swallowing hard and my body trembling with a rush of
adrenalin.

‘Chrissie?’ I whispered as my eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom.

I could see a shadowy figure standing ten yards away. It was Chrissie and
she had her back to me as she stood motionless. ‘Chrissie, Honey, is everything
okay?’ I asked, remaining at the door and scanning the sacks of feed on the
right for any sign of someone lurking behind their cover.

She stood eerily still and I was reminded of the last scenes of
The
Blair Witch Project
. The hairs on my arms and at the back of my neck
prickled in response as I recalled the sleepless night I’d had after watching
the movie with Bob, who wasn’t the least disturbed.

‘Chrissie?’ I said with greater insistence, nausea beginning to churn my
stomach and fighting back tears. ‘Please talk to me.’

I glanced back as I heard the quick approach of footsteps, finding
Tyreese hurrying over. ‘She’s standing in there,’ I whispered as he drew up
beside me.

He looked over my shoulder. ‘Why isn’t she moving?’

I shook my head, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from bursting into
tears.

‘Shit!’

His exclamation gave me a start and I stared in with renewed fear,
expecting to see someone creeping from the shadows gathered within the barn,
but seeing nothing. I turned to him questioningly, my eyes pleading for him to
tell me what he’d seen.

‘Look above her,’ he whispered, looking sickly and his jaw tight.

I turned back to the scene and looked to the rafters above Chrissie,
narrowing my eyes. There, in the darkness, I could just make out three figures
and the ropes from which they hung. The thunder of my heart was renewed.

I pulled the door open a little further and moved inside, glancing around
and seeing nothing but sacks and bales of hay. I slowly walked up to Chrissie
as she remained standing before the terrible sight.

Coming to a stop behind her, I slowly reached out and placed my hand upon
her shoulder. She jumped at the touch and turned to me, tears streaming down
her pale and drawn face.

‘She looks like me,’ she whispered before flinging her arms about my
waist and clinging with desperate tightness, sobbing uncontrollably as she
buried her face against me.

I looked up and my sickness increased. A young girl hung between her
parents, swollen tongue lolling from her mouth and eyes bulging fearfully, gaze
seemingly fixed on me.

‘We’re all going to die,’ moaned Chrissie as I found myself unable to
tear my gaze from the terrible sight above.

‘My name’s
Reverend Peterson,’ I stated, lowering my gun.

‘Duncan Carter,’ he responded, holding his hand out in my direction.

I stepped forward and shook it after a hesitation.

‘Thank God you’re here. He must have heard my prayers and sent you.’

‘Where are all the staff and other patients?’

‘There’s none here?’

‘You’re the only one we’ve seen.’

‘Then who’s making all those noises?’

‘Kids,’ said Shane, Duncan turning to the sound of his voice. ‘They’re so
high they ain’t never coming back down.’

‘Kids,’ echoed Duncan with a shake of his head.

‘How long have you been in there?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘What you mean, you don’t know?’ asked Shane.

‘Last I remember, my eyes were being seared by a bright explosion and
then the blast sending me flying. The next thing, I’m waking in a bed with this
bandage around my head, aching all over and feeling weak and dizzy. It wasn’t
until I gained the strength to get off the bed that I managed to work out I was
in a hospital room, though I suspected it thanks to the smell of disinfectant.’

‘How long ago did you wake up?’ I enquired.

‘I don’t know. Maybe two hours. The first thing I heard was that
laughter.’

‘You mean they’ve been laughing the whole time?’ responded David in
surprise.

Duncan nodded. ‘Yeah. I started to think I’d woken in a nut house or
something. You wouldn’t believe how thankful I was to hear you guys speaking,
to hear normal voices.’

‘How did you get hear from New York?’ I looked at him curiously.

‘I’m not from New York, I’m from Boston. I was working on a construction
site on the outskirts. Where are we now?’

‘Albany.’

‘Albany!’ he exclaimed.

I nodded despite the face he couldn’t see the gesture. ‘Maybe they
managed to get you to a chopper and airlifted you here,’ I suggested.

‘Did the terrorists hit anywhere else?’

Me and the others shared glances.

‘You don’t know?’ said Wade.

‘Know what?’

‘I wasn’t terrorists,’ I stated, ‘it was the end.’

Duncan’s expression became one of confusion.

‘Nuclear war,’ I clarified.

His mouth hung open for a moment. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, one minute it’s just another day, the next, it’s the end of the fucking
world,’ said Shane.

Duncan’s grip on the doorframe tightened. ‘Are the phones working? I need
to call my wife, I need to check on the kids and…’ His legs gave way and he
sank to his knees.

I went to him and put my arm about his shoulder, helping him rise. ‘There’s
no phones, no electricity and no sign of help.’

‘Nuclear war,’ he said breathlessly. ‘But there was no warning.’

‘They didn’t sound the sirens.’

‘I mean before that. There was no sign of a war breaking out. Yeah, there
were tensions in the Middle East and Asia, but there’s nothing new in that.’

‘I reckon North Korea fired another missile and that caused the shit to
well and truly hit the fan,’ said Wade. ‘They always were a bunch of
trigger-happy maniacs.’

‘Mad,’ said Duncan.

‘Sure is,’ responded Shane.

‘No, I mean Mutually Assured Destruction. They always said that if one
country ever pressed the button there’d be a domino effect.’

‘What did you say your job was?’

‘Construction Foreman. My wife has National Geographic on subscription.
She’s interested in global issues, especially the environment.’ He took a
wavering breath. ‘She
was
interested in global issues,’ he corrected
sadly.

‘There’s only one issue now, and that’s staying alive,’ said Wade.

‘What about the fallout?’ asked Duncan. ‘Is that why I’m feeling so rough?’

‘Could be,’ I replied.

‘The Rev’s got a cure.’

‘A cure?’ Duncan turned to me.

‘Come with us,’ I stated, ‘and I’ll take away your pain. God has shown me
the way and now I’ll show you.

‘Put your hand on my shoulder,’ I instructed, removing my arm from about
him.

Duncan did as instructed and I nodded to Wade, who turned towards the
doors and began to lead us through the darkened corridors once more.

We followed the sounds of laughter, descending a stairwell that was
littered with patient notes, a gurney on the landing halfway to the next floor,
one end out of the smashed window and the breeze stirring the papers. Our pace
slowed as we approached the double doors ahead and I glanced down the centre of
the stairwell for any sign of activity, seeing nothing but darkness rising from
below.

Wade pushed open the door on the left. The volume of the laughter
increased and Duncan’s grip on my shoulder tightened.

We walked into the deep gloom of the corridor beyond, the sound of the
door swinging shut causing us to all to turn with guns raised. Moving fifty
yards into the heart of the building, the high cackling continued.

Wade nodded at a door ahead to the right. There was a keypad on the wall
beside, but it was wide open and the laughter was issuing from within, the faint
glow of a flashlight’s beam weakly falling into the corridor.

He moved forward with his pistol gripped in both hands, remaining with
his back to the wall on the other side of the corridor as he tried to see who
as inside. Drawing to a stop opposite, he stared into the store and then
indicated that whoever was in there was to the right of the door.

I nodded and he quickly stepped across the corridor into the doorway,
pointing his gun directly down beside the entrance.

I stared at him expectantly and he gave a sideways nod for us to follow.
Walking forward as Wade moved further into the room, I reached the door and
looked around the frame to find a young man seated against the wall with his
legs out before him. His cheeks glistened with tears, taking no notice of our
arrival as his manic laughter continued. The sleeve of his grey sweatshirt was
rolled up and a stethoscope was tied about the top of his arm. The syringe
which had delivered the drugs into his veins still stuck out at the joint, his
arm resting limply across his lap and carrying the signs of past injections.

Wade stepped over to him and put the gun to his head. ‘Shut the fuck up!’

The teenager ignored his words, or simply wasn’t able to hear them in his
fucked up state.

Wade looked to me and I nodded.

‘You’d better cover your ears,’ I said to Duncan over my shoulder.

The man from Boston did as I’d instructed. The gunshot cracked with
wincing volume in the confines of the storeroom, my ears ringing as the
laughter finally fell silent.

‘You shot him?’ said Duncan in a horrified whisper.

‘He was never coming back from that trip,’ said Wade, tucking his gun in
the top of his jeans as he turned to the shelves.

‘If you could have seen him you’d have understood,’ I stated, looking
around the room and frowning. It was the same story as the dispensary.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Duncan as Shane crouched and idly
picked up a couple of the packets resting on the linoleum.

I shook my head. ‘Painkillers, but most the drugs have been cleared out.
Whatever we find won’t be enough.’

‘What about the Cancer Unit,’ he suggested.

I turned to him. A smile slowly dawned as I realised the Lord had brought
this man into our company for a reason. ‘God may have taken your sight with His
divine light, but he has granted you true vision.’

‘Wade, lead the way,’ I instructed, taking Duncan’s hand and placing it
on my shoulder as he bore an expression of bewilderment.

‘God’s divine light?’ he asked as we exited the store and Wade took us
back to the stairwell, the signs on the previous floor indicating the location
of the unit.

‘Yes. This is His judgement and we have been chosen to help with its
fulfilment,’ I replied as we walked through the shadows and I felt blessed by
His guidance.

Tyreese set his
plate down on the table and took his seat opposite me after turning off the gas
hob. Picking up his cutlery, he glanced over as he was about to tuck into the
steaming food, candles flickering between us.

‘What?’ he asked, seeing that neither of us had begun to eat. ‘I know I’m
no chef, but it can’t be that bad.’

‘I’m not really hungry,’ I stated, looking down at the rapidly cooling
bacon, eggs and beans, finding no appetite in response.

‘My head hurts,’ said Chrissie, pushing her plate away.

I looked to her as she sat to my left. ‘Maybe you should go and lie
down.’

‘Can I have more pills?’

‘You only took the last one about an hour ago.’

‘You two can have the beds, I’ll sleep on the settee,’ proposed Tyreese.

‘Can I sleep with you, Mommy?’

I nodded and brushed hair from her forehead. ‘Of course you can, Honey,’
I replied, the flames of the candles stirring gently.

‘You better at least try and eat a little to keep your strength up,’ said
Tyreese as he cut one of his rashers.

Chrissie simply shook her head, Ollie cuddled to her chest.

I stared at her a moment longer and then turned back to my food, knowing
that if there were to be any chance of her eating, I’d have to lead by example.
I picked up my knife and fork with a distinct lack of enthusiasm and cut into
the egg, the yolk seeping out and mingling with the beans. Taking up a forkful,
I began to chew as I stared at the candle directly before me. I’d searched
through the boxes in the trunk and stumbled upon the Christmas candles Bob had brought
down from the loft. Most were plain red, but a few were white with pale blue glittery
snowflakes decorating their lengths, like the one between me and Tyreese.

‘Mmm, not bad,’ he said through a mouthful of food.

I cut a piece of bacon and slipped it into my mouth as my appetite began to
awaken.

‘I found a homemade sponge for dessert,’ commented Tyreese, looking over
at Chrissie, ‘but you’ve got to try and eat at least a little of your main.’

She stared at her plate a moment and then picked up her fork, beginning
to play with her food while continuing to hold the octopus to her.

‘Either eat it or leave it,’ I said, ‘but don’t toy with it.’

Her frown deepened as she took up some beans and put them into her mouth
with a look of distaste. Noisily putting the fork down on her plate as a statement
of her intention to eat no more, she stared at the snowflake candle in front of
her.

‘Why did you call your cat Christmas?’ she asked, looking over at
Tyreese.

‘That’s when I got her,’ he said after swallowing a mouthful. ‘Can you
guess what her nickname was?’

She shook her head.

‘Chrissie,’ he smiled.

‘Really?’

Tyreese nodded. ‘Along with Chris and Slasher.’

‘Slasher?’

‘She had the sharpest claws,’ he stated as he shovelled up some beans,
‘and the painful habit of climbing up my legs when she wanted attention.’

Chrissie chuckled. ‘What colour is a tabby?’ she asked as she reached for
her fork once again.

‘Grey with black stripes,’ replied Tyreese through the beans, one popping
from his mouth onto the tabletop. ‘Sorry.’

She laughed again and pronged her bacon, lifting the whole rasher from
her plate and beginning to nibble on it like it was a piece of jerky.

The sound of her amusement made me feel glad, but a sense of melancholy
also arose in response. I knew what her headache probably signified, though I
didn’t want to admit or think about it. Even if those dark thoughts were proved
wrong, what was left for her, what would there be to laugh about if we
survived?

‘Are you okay?’

I blinked and found Tyreese looking across at me.

‘Where were you?’

‘Just thinking,’ I replied, turning back to my food and scooping up some
beans.

The first drops of rain began to tap on the window. I looked beyond
Tyreese to see them sparkling on the pane as they reflected the candlelight.

‘I never thought I’d be scared of the rain,’ I commented.

He glanced over his shoulder.

‘Why are you scared of the rain, Mommy?’

‘It’s become…’ I sought the right word. ‘…Dirty.’

‘Dirty?’

‘Unhealthy,’ I offered as I looked down at her and she chewed on the last
of the bacon.

‘How can rain be unhealthy?’ She looked at me in confusion.

‘You remember what Daddy and I told you about what had happened to New
York?’

She nodded.

‘Well, it’s poisoned the rain.’

‘Is that why the clouds look dirty?’

I nodded. ‘Yes.’

She looked at her plate thoughtfully for a moment. ‘When will the rain be
clean again?’

‘I don’t know, Honey, but it’ll probably be a long time.’

‘Weeks?’

‘A long time,’ I repeated before turning back to the window, the rain
becoming steady and snaking down the window against the backdrop of the
darkness outside.

‘What time is it?’ I asked Tyreese, hoping to avoid anymore questions
from Chrissie, not feeling comfortable with speaking about what had happened,
not just because of worries about the effect on her, but also because it forced
me to confront the situation.

‘Not even eight,’ he replied after glancing at his watch.

‘How can it be so dark out there?’

‘I think it’s partly because it’s light in here. You know how it always
makes it seem darker outside when you have the lights on.’

I pondered what he’d said as he scraped the last of his food onto his
fork. Nodding to myself, I looked back at my dinner and put down my knife and
fork, neatly placing them together on the plate.

‘It may have not been gourmet, but it certainly hit the spot and got rid
of the taste of gasoline.’ Tyreese patted his stomach, his cutlery left
disorderly on his plate. ‘There’s one thing I can make really well and that’s
cobbler.’

‘Uh-ha,’ I said distractedly.

‘Apple and blackberry. Delicious,’ he said to Chrissie.

‘Can we have some of the sponge now?’ she asked.

‘Seeing as you ate your bacon,’ he nodded, pushing his seat back and
reaching across for my plate.

I handed it to him as Chrissie raised hers. He piled them and took them
over to the sink at the far end of the room, leaving them beside.

‘There’s an old fashioned copper kettle,’ said Tyreese looking over at me
as he took a biscuit tin from one of the kitchen cabinets and put it on the
counter. ‘Would you like a coffee?’

‘Sounds good,’ I replied.

Tyreese filled the kettle and set it to boil on one of the hobs as I
turned to Chrissie, finding her yawning.

‘Tired?’ I asked as I wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb.

‘Very.’

‘I’m not surprised after…’ My words faltered. ‘After everything.’

‘After Daddy,’ she said sadly.

I wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, but we were already
beyond that. Everything was far from being okay and I had no idea if it ever
would be again.

‘Can we go to bed when we’ve finished eating?’

‘I’m going to have a coffee after the cake, but I’ll be up after that,’ I
said with a nod.

‘Here you go,’ said Tyreese as he walked over with two slices of sponge
cake, moving to stand between us and putting Chrissie’s plate down first.
‘Spoons or fingers?’ he asked as he set my small plate before me.

‘Fingers will be fine.’

He returned to the oven and leant against the nearby counter as he ate
the slice he’d cut for himself and waited for the kettle to boil. Its metal
creaked as the rain pattered on the window.

‘What’s the game you’ve been designing?’ I asked, before taking a bite of
the fluffy sponge which was sprinkled with icing sugar and flavoured with vanilla.

Tyreese looked a little embarrassed and stared at the kettle. ‘Z War.’

‘Z War?’

‘Zombie Nazis,’ he stated simply.

‘Oh,’ was all I managed in response.

‘What’s a Nazi?’ asked Chrissie.

‘A nasty person.’

‘So was the man who shot Daddy a Nazi?’ She looked up at me curiously.

‘Just eat your sponge, Honey,’ I replied softly as the rain began to beat
harder against the window and the kettle whistled dolefully.