Latter-Day of the Dead (16 page)

He finally saw her injured shin and looked over to me.

“She is not well. We should get her into a bedroom,” I said.

Verdell rose to his feet and said to the crowd, “You should not have convinced her to stay, Brother Elias. She would have been safe with us. You put her directly in harm’s way, where is the honor in that?”

I did not know a room with that many people could be so quiet. Two of my mothers walked over to the couch and ushered Mary to the back bedroom. As she passed through the crowd people caught a glimpse of her chewed-up leg and took turns shooting appalled glares at me. With much more pressing matters at hand I was forced to shrug it off.

“You and your sister alright?” my father asked.

“Yes, sir. We will need to secure the house. Two of them were following us.”

“Brother Jenkins. Brother Proctor. Let’s get the other doors and windows secured,” my father chirped in quick response.

The men sprung to action. All three of them carried shotguns while they canvassed the rest of the house. I made the rounds to make sure all of our immediate family made it safely out of the fracas. My mother said everyone had been accounted for except me and Sariah before we had arrived.

“That’s good,” I concluded.

“Blessed for sure,” she replied. “Keturah Dawn told us what you did, staying back to help. It was uplifting and terrifying at the same time. I can’t be losing my eldest son, you know.”

“I know.”

Keturah’s name being brought up made me scan the room to find her. I didn’t see her in the huddled pack of uneasy people. As much as that raised concern, I knew I had to get back and tend to Mary’s injured leg.

I found my way to the back bedroom where a couple of my mothers were comforting Mary. She was stretched out across the mattress with her leg elevated on the rusted brass railing at the foot of the bed. Verdell stood watch at a short distance next to the bedroom window. The women had cleaned the wound with sponges, water, and alcohol.

“How are you feeling, Sister Mary?” I asked while pressing the back of my hand against her scorching forehead.

“Pffft,” the prophet scoffed by blowing his pressed lips together. “How do you think she’s doing? Look at her.”

I disregarded the comment and turned to my mothers, saying, “Could I speak to the prophet alone for a moment?”

They both quietly grabbed the bloodied sponges and other supplies and quickly exited. Mary kept her eyes closed, moaning slightly with each movement as she tried to find comfort in the bed. I sat at her side and grabbed a wet cloth from the dish on the nightstand. I placed it gently on her forehead.

“I did not see my wife, Sharon, return with you,” Verdell proclaimed.

“No.” I shook my head slowly in shame. “She…she didn’t make it.”

“Do you know what sacrifice is, Brother Elias?” Verdell questioned, making his way over to the bed.

“What? Yes…of course.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Verdell said, now lightly tracing his finger around Mary’s exposed wound.

“I don’t understand,” I said, confused.

“Oh, I am well aware of that,” Verdell laughed. “A sacrifice, my boy, is when something is given up for a greater gain later on.”

“I am aware of what it is.”

Verdell grabbed Mary’s leg over the wound and squeezed. She groaned in agony.

“So you sacrificed my wife for what purpose?”

“We were just trying to save Sister Sharon.” I stood up and tried to reason with him.

“And it is up to you to determine Mary would be a worthy sacrifice to save Sharon?”

“No…I didn’t want anyone hurt.”

He would not let go of Mary’s leg while he continued, “You sacrificed Mary to save Sharon, which would have been a sacrifice except you did not save Sharon. This was no sacrifice at all, just plain foolishness.”

“I’m sorry,” was all I could say. Silence set in and after another elongated moment he finally released Mary’s leg from his grip.

“You’re lucky it was just her leg,” he surmised.

“Well,” I sighed, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What now?” he breathed with annoyance.

“This
thing
we are dealing with, it’s some kind of virus being passed through the bloodstream. You’ve seen what it’s done to Benjamin and Parley and Rodell and the others. They all become…ravenous.”

“And you’re saying Mary will turn to this darkness?”

“I believe so, unfortunately.”

Verdell paused and processed the information before saying, “You’re the doctor…fix her.”

I hung my head. “This isn’t something that can be fixed.”

“Well then you will be responsible for what’s to come of her.”

A delicate voice interrupted at the doorway, “Is Sister Mary going to be okay?”

Keturah Dawn stepped into the tension-filled room. She knelt at the side of the bed and tenderly stroked Mary’s hair. Verdell and I had nothing else to say to each other. We stood muted at the foot of the bed.

Mary’s head swayed during the struggle to open her eyes. A coarse cough finally cast them open. Keturah greeted the eye contact with a warm smile. Mary’s face contorted as she shook it bitterly side-to-side.

“No,” she grunted.

“What is it, my darling?” Verdell stepped over and asked.

“No,” she repeated dryly, pointing at Keturah.

“Sister Keturah has come to comfort you,” the prophet explained.

“Get…her…out,” Mary grumbled.

Keturah looked up to me with uncertainty and embarrassment. Before she could get up from her knees the side of her face was bespattered with a black tarry substance hacked up from a coughing Mary.

Keturah tried to stay composed. She rose to her feet and weakly said, “I better go get cleaned up.”

“I will be out shortly,” Verdell told her.

He saw her to the door and closed it after her exit. Mary seemed to calm down as soon as Keturah was out of sight.

“We cannot tell the others about Mary being infected,” Verdell advised.

I actually agreed with him, although it was probably for different reasons. We didn’t need to add to the hysteria at this point. Keeping people calm would be the best way to keep people safe.

“The only issue is that we won’t know when she fully turns…and when that happens everyone in the house will be at risk,” I explained.

“So what do you suggest?” he asked affably.

“She probably needs to be bound to the bed.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied firmly.

“Sir, you saw what went on out there. Once the virus takes hold she won’t be controllable. She won’t be rational. She won’t be…Mary.”

“She is my angel, Brother Elias….”

“I know,” I said.

“…but, I understand the sound reasoning of your words. We will bind her for her own good.”

“It’s for the best,” I reassured.

He nodded in forced agreement. “Sacrifices, right?”

chapter thirteen

“P
lease leave Mary alone to rest,” Verdell requested of the group. He and I already bound her hands and feet to the corners of the bed frame, and he did not want anyone questioning the reasoning.

My father approached us and said, “The house is as secure as we can get it. I’m not sure what we do from here.”

“We allow our faith to guide us,” Verdell said matter-of-factly.

He pushed past my father and I, commandeering the dusty recliner in the living room. People nudged in close, some kneeling right in front of the chair. It finally felt like things calmed down. It finally felt like I could breathe.

The prophet looked each person in the eye before he addressed the cramped room. I found myself yearning for guidance from our leader as well, despite our recent not-so-friendly interactions. I could not provide myself the reassurance that everything would be alright, despite the repeated attempts.

He leaned forward in his chair, interlocking his fingers and resting his elbows on each knee.

“You know,” he began, then stopped. He reclined back in his chair, contemplating what to say. I could have sworn at that point he was purposely building the moment up. Everyone focused in on the prophet, now even hungrier for his word.

“You know, I have to be honest in saying I knew this day would come. We can all be honest with ourselves in that respect. We have been preparing ourselves for the end days for some time now. We know the scripture to be true, so why act surprised when we see the manifestation of such truths? I take comfort in knowing my Lord and Savior has a plan for me. It is a plan I will never fully comprehend in this world or in this lifetime, and that is okay. I feel his warmth all around me…all around us.”

Verdell waved his hand across the entire room. People nodded in agreement.

He continued, “There is an evil out there. An evil of which we have never seen. But be clear my brothers, my certainty of eternal life does not warrant lying this life down weakly to darkness. We will fight this evil with a ferocity rarely seen in mortal man. Let us pray my brothers.”

Heads bowed. Folks held the hands of those on each side of them. Verdell stood, keeping his fingers interlocked.

“Lord, we have lost many loved ones today, but we take comfort in knowing they now walk in your heavenly kingdom. Please bless us, your loyal servants, with the strength to stand in the face of fear. The strength to banish the vileness we have encountered. Continue to protect us from the viciousness of the final days. We live in your glory, for that we are eternally grateful. May those that refuse to embrace your light face undying damnation. Amen.”

“Amen,” the group repeated.

The prophet’s words seemed to comfort the assemblage. There was warmth in the room that was not there before. We all sat in our own thoughts, some openly grieving for family they lost just a short time earlier.

No one had any idea how to proceed, so we just sat. I think people were hoping that when the sun came up things would just go back to normal and they could go home. I knew that would be far from the case.

During our time of reflection I became annoyed by a tapping sound. It was intermittent. I turned my head sideways to try and hear where it was coming from. Each time I tried to put my full attention on it the sound would go away.

“There it is again,” I said, interrupting the hush.

“There what is?” Kib asked from across the room.

“Listen,” I told Kib, but everyone took the guidance.

The room deadened, everyone straining to hear something. I started to hope I was really hearing the tapping now that all were involved.

“That?” Kib asked excitedly.

“Yes. Where is that coming from?”

“It’s somewhere over here,” one of the sisters at the front of the house chimed in.

People moved out of the way so Kib and I could zero-in on the source. My father followed closely behind. We crept behind the couch at the front window and tried to remain noiseless. I ducked down on my hands and knees to check under the couch. Nothing was under there, but the next tap was easily heard.

“It’s coming from the window,” Kib acknowledged.

The surrounding members all stepped back. I stood up, but wasn’t ready to draw the curtains to see what it was. My father, Kib, and I all positioned ourselves at the window waiting for confirmation of another tap.

A single tap on the window settled it.

“Maybe it’s just a tree branch,” Kib tried to convince us.

“Except that we don’t have a tree out front,” I deadpanned.

My father interjected, “We don’t need to be silly about it, just open that darn curtains.”

Before we could agree to his comment he stepped forward and threw the curtain open. The crowd gave an audible gasp and a couple women screamed. I forgot that most of these people probably escaped without seeing what was actually out there.

Rodell slowly rocked forward, the pink handles of the scissors jutting out of his eye socket tapping against the window. The sight of us all inside made him agitated, the tapping against the window became more rapid.

“What happened to him?” someone asked from the crowd.

We ignored the question and kept our eyes on Rodell.

“He’s hurt. Doesn’t he need our help?” someone else asked from the crowd.

We ignored the question and kept our eyes on Rodell.

Rodell stepped closer to the window. With the scissor handles already against the glass, he pressed his face forward. The part of the blade still exposed drove deeper into his head. He did not flinch. We did.

The handles were being forced into his eye socket from the pressure when the window finally shattered. The bystanders pushed their way into the kitchen and hallway. My father raised his shotgun and stayed locked on Rodell. Kib and I pushed the couch back to give us more distance from the open window.

Rodell leaned over jagged shards of glass that remained in the window frame.