World Memorial (25 page)

She crept towards the sound slowly, stopping when she got to the dark passage between the two dwellings. She cocked her head, listening. "Hello?"

No response. More whimpering. A soft, wheezing whine.

And something chewing.

Holding the bat in front of her, she stepped into the passageway. For a few seconds she was in darkness. Dim light ahead told her she was moving. She stepped slowly, carefully. The whimpering and chewing continued.

Dalton whispered, and from the way it echoed, Maylee guessed he was standing outside the passage. "Maylee...."

"Dammit, be quiet, Dalton!" she hissed into the dark.

She stepped slowly for a few seconds more. The chewing and whimpering grew louder as she approached the source. She emerged on the other side of the passage. Far-off barrel fires provided dim light, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

Corey from the Guard lay on his back in the snow. Something had stained the snow dark. Maylee knew it was blood. She blinked, her eyes still adapting, and saw a corpse lying next to him. It was a withered old man with no legs. A trail was gouged through the snow where he'd dragged himself along. Corey twitched as the man bit into his throat. The man pulled back, sinew between his teeth. He chewed, moaning ecstatically as blood dripped across his chin.

Corey saw Maylee and reached for her, his eyes wide and straining. He tried to speak, but only a whimpering wheeze escaped from his ruined throat.

It took less than a second for Maylee to process this. "Fuck," she said, rushing toward Corey and kicking the corpse off of him. The withered man rolled across the snow, hissing at her as he slammed into the far wall. The metallic clang rang through the area.

Maylee rushed up, swinging her bat underhand into the corpse's temple. With a sharp crack she smashed it against the wall. Dark gore shot upwards across the metal. She wrenched her bat away, trailing thick goop across the snow. The corpse was still.

She turned back to Corey. He clutched at his throat, wheezing up into the dark sky, and looked at Maylee as she walked back to him. She wondered how long he had. He'd been a good man.

Then she wondered how the corpse had gotten in.

She noticed Corey was pointing away from both of them, past his feet and to Maylee's right. She followed his finger and saw that a large metal flap in the far wall was bent wide open. Through the moonlight outside, Maylee saw dark shapes moving. The wind carried groans to her ears.

"Shit shit shit," she said through her teeth, running to the nearest alarm rope. She pulled repeatedly, sending loud clanging and clattering through the town. All around her, doors on nearby campers and sheds opened and people poked their heads out.

"Everyone stay inside!" yelled Maylee, still pulling the rope.

The people looking outside saw the hole. They saw the corpses outside. They screamed. Some grabbed their own weapons and rushed out. Others slammed the doors and started frantically locking their windows. Maylee could see the flimsy glass shaking on trailer windows as they tried to secure them.

After a few more seconds of ringing, the rest of the Guard arrived. Few even hesitated. Most dropped to one knee, rifle out before Maylee had to say a word. She let go of the rope and ran out of the way, leaving the opening clear. The corpses reached it, their dead arms reaching inside and rotting heads poking through.

"Fire!" she yelled as she ran along the side wall, keeping clear of the rifles. The Guard began firing. Maylee heard the bullets thudding into dead skulls and the moans of the falling corpses. She reached the guards and turned. Corpses fell, their heads snapping back as shots ripped through them.

When most of the frontline of corpses had fallen away, Maylee motioned for them to stop. They did, lowering their rifles and looking at her. More corpses were coming up to fill the space their shots had opened.

"We gotta get that thing closed," said Maylee. "Come on!"

She and the guards rushed to the opening. A corpse was already coming through, a large woman with a pus-covered face and one white cloudy eye, but Maylee smacked her back through the hole and bent down to grab the edge of the bent flap. The others crowded around her, grabbing the edge where they could.

"Push!" yelled Maylee. And they did. The flap bent back up easily with all the hands on it, but the corpses were pushing back from the other side. They moaned and pawed at the metal, trying to get through.

Then Dalton was beside her, pushing up against the metal. The metal began to move more easily. Maylee considered sending him away, but they needed all the force they could muster.

The corpses crowded around outside the hole, pushing on the metal flap. The guards, Maylee and Dalton pushed back. They were making progress.

From the corner of her vision, Maylee saw Mom and Park rush into the area, Park immediately un-shouldering his rifle. Mom looked first at Corey, then at Maylee. Then she saw Dalton. "Dalton!" she yelled "Get away from there!"

"I'm doing this right now, Mom!" Dalton yelled back, pushing against the metal. It slowly creaked upward. Dead hands grabbed at the edges, pawing and reaching.

"Dalton!" Mom yelled again. "Get over here now!"

"Not now!" Dalton yelled, putting his shoulder against the metal.

"Dalton!"

Dalton let go and turned to face her. The weight of the corpses outside pushed the flap downward. Maylee and the guards struggled to slow it.

"Dammit, Mom! Just fuck off! I'm doing this!"

The weight behind the metal flap shifted, knocking several of guards into Dalton. Dalton stumbled to one side, into a stack of rusty barrels. The stack rocked back and forth, then collapsed with a loud clanging. Dalton let out a yell as they crashed down onto him.

For a second Maylee stared at the barrels in shock. Angie dropped her cane and limped toward the barrels.

"Dalton!" she yelled.

The corpses behind Maylee clawed at her hair, shaking her back to awareness. She put her shoulder further under the metal and dug her feet into the ground. "Push! Hard and right fucking now!"

The guards did. Maylee screamed against the groans of the corpses outside as they slowly pushed the flap back into place. Maylee stepped back and slammed her bat into the metal, both in frustration and grief and to further bend the metal back into shape.

"Nail it!" she yelled to the others. "Now!" They started working, using their rifle butts to pound the nails that were still there back into place.

Maylee ran over to the barrels, her heart pounding. Mom, Park and a few townsfolk were digging at them.

They came to one barrel, sitting upside down against the snow. Two barrels had fallen against it. The barrel shook and muffled yelling came from inside.

Maylee and Angie pulled the two barrels away from the shaking one, then Park and a few townsfolk pulled it  up and away.

Dalton sat on the ground, clutching his knee.

"Damn thing slammed on my knee," he said. He otherwise looked fine.

"Shit, Dalton," said Mom. She grabbed him and hugged him tightly. Judging from Dalton's face, too tightly. A tightness that said she was mad. Maylee noticed how tired she looked. For the first time in Maylee's memory, her mother looked old. Not just older than Maylee.
Old
old.

Satisfied Dalton was okay, Maylee walked back over to Corey, who was still wheezing through the opening in his throat. He nodded to her as she knelt next to him, the color draining from his face. His eyes said
I know what has to be done. Do it.

Maylee nodded back to him. Elton walked up, looking down at both of them.

"And there goes another one," he said. "Thank fuck we've got
you
in charge."

He pointed his rifle to Corey's forehead and fired. Maylee kept her eyes locked on Corey's. His head jerked and his eyes went blank. She refused to let herself look away. He slumped, blood pooling his head. Elton snorted down at them and walked away to the newly repaired wall.

Park stepped over, scratching at his beard. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and knelt next to Maylee.

"Tell me, kid," he said, looking in the direction Elton had walked. "Is there any reason to trust that motherfucker?"

Maylee finally looked away from Corey and turned to Park. She thought of Carly, wondered if she was the only reason she tolerated Elton. "He's a good shot."

Park scratched his beard again. "Well that just makes the question more important, doesn't it?"

He stood and stepped over to Elton. Maylee watched, still kneeling, while the guards pounded the metal back into place. Elton stood watching as well.

"Looking over your work?" said Park.

Elton turned to Park. "You talking to me, hillbilly?"

"Talking to the dog twat who tore that hole in the wall," said Park, stepping closer.

"You're not blaming me for
her
lack of protection!" he said, jabbing a finger at Maylee.

"And you're always more than happy to point that out, aren't you?" Park said, shoving Elton's shoulder back.

"Because I care about this town! What's left of my family lives here!" Elton stepped back to Park, clenching his fists.

The two men stared at each other a moment. Finally Elton shook his head and walked away, headed for the wall. He started banging his rifle butt against the metal.

Angie limped over, trailing Dalton. She looked at down at Maylee.

"You and Dalton. In the house. Now."

Brother Joel stood before the altar, looking it up and down. A worn but clean tarp was draped over it. Small organs were placed neatly across the tarp. Little pools of blood had collected under each one, sending thin tendrils of red across the blue of the tarp.

Joel smiled, looking down at the knife still in his hand. It was coated in a thin layer of blood, but a few clean parts remained, reflecting the candlelight back to his eye. It was a glorious sight. Holy.

Warmth grew in his heart as he brought the knife up to the altar. He grabbed hold of a small liver laid out across the tarp. He brought the knife to the organ and began to carefully slice through it.

He paused briefly mid-slice, letting his gaze wander around the sanctuary. His flock was eating. Most sat in the pews, their faces beaming as they brought the bright, glistening meat to their mouths and bit. They were being fed, in the deepest sense. Joel was happy. A few smiled back at him, the blood on their cheeks and chins beautiful in the context.

A few others lay on their backs on the floor, the blood on their faces letting Joel know they had finished the holy meal. Their red hands were up, reaching for the ceiling. They rocked back and forth, praising Jesus.

Joel thanked God silently and turned back to the work before him. He slid the blade through the liver, finishing the slice, marveling at how tender the meat was. How precious.

His work done, he set the knife down on the altar. He picked up the slice of liver and held it up, looking at the flickering candlelight shining through it. It was beautiful.

"Please, Lord," he prayed in a low whisper, "cleanse your servant that he may be worthy of this gift. In Jesus' name."

He placed the slice on his tongue, closed his mouth and chewed. There was a time when the flavor repulsed him. No longer. He had learned wisdom, and understood that the ways of the Lord seemed foolish to the eyes of the world. The flavor was glorious. It was holy.

He swallowed.

"And please Lord," he continued, "may this boy have been the one. Bless us that we may have fulfilled your demands and may receive your blessing. Allow us to walk among the dead without fear."

His mind turned to the intruders, the boy and girl who had spied on their ceremony. He hoped the good men of the flock had dealt with them. He even hoped they could be brought into the flock. That way, no more death would be necessary.

He turned to gaze up at Zach. The precious boy still hung from the wooden cross, his pale flesh stark against the open red gap in his torso.

Joel had resisted the Lord's call at first. He had deliberated within his spirit. He had even considered the commands to be the voice of the Enemy. But eventually, the still small voice had won out. Like Abraham with Isaac, one did not question God's commands. No matter how strange they may seem. His ways were not Joel's ways.

The last bit of resistance Joel had felt was against the command to hang the children on the cross. Surely God would not command such a thing. But God had shown him the beauty of it. As Jesus' sacrifice gave the world life, so would these children give the elect life.

And surely it was true. Zach had glowed.
Glowed
. None of the children had glowed before. Surely it meant they were getting close. Maybe they had even arrived.

"Thank you, young Zach," said Joel. "And thank you Lord."

* * *

Angie stood in the bedroom she shared with her two children. Dalton sat on the bed, his arms crossed and his jaw set. Maylee stood in one corner, leaning against the wall, looking down at the floor. They were otherwise alone.

Angie adjusted her weight on her cane, the pain in her ankle making her even angrier. She looked at Dalton. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Dalton glared back at her.

"You'd better start talking, young man."

Dalton sighed. "I just want to do something useful."

"Seriously? After you went sneaking off into the woods alone? You seriously go and endanger yourself that same night?"

Dalton uncrossed his arms and sighed. "I just want to do something! I'm no good to anyone! I never do anything to help around here!"

Angie shifted her weight again. She drew in a breath, trying to calm down. Her chest was pounding. She'd had enough. Too many times of seeing her children nearly die. Too many times of seeing her children intentionally endanger themselves. "What was all that blood-drawing shit, then?"