Books of the Dead (Book 1): Sanctuary From The Dead (22 page)

“Son of a bitch, that’s my second
in command,” Kurtz said, some of his earlier confident malevolence receding, replaced by a haunted, lost look.

He grabbed a handful of my hair, which hurt like hell, and pulled me backwards.  “What’s the best way in?”
he whispered.

“All the back doors will be locked,” I said rubbing my scalp.

“What about going that way?” he asked, pointing the barrel of his gun to the east side of the church.

“That would put us more out in the open.  What I last saw there was a whole mess of zombies.”

He grabbed me again and pulled me close, face-to-face, “You better not be fucking with me.  I want in there and you had better not lead me into a fucking trap.”  Most of his over-heated anger returned with a vengeance.

I nodded.  “There’s an entrance on the west side of the church.   We had it locked down pretty tight, but I know how to unlock it.”

“Okay,” he said.  “No tricks.  If you see any of your church buddies and warn them in any way, then I’ll blow a hole in you and kill them, too.  Got it?”

Again, I just nodded.  He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around in the direction of the church, but kept a hand on my shoulder as he pushed me forward.  I had the distinct feeling that
if I strayed more than a step away from him he’d shoot me in the back.

The west parking lot wasn’t all that large, holding about twenty cars, but there were only five SUVs and
a two church vans there.  We wouldn’t have much cover.  If the snipers were still in business, this is where we’d probably be taken out.

  Between the tingling target on my back from Kurtz’s gun
, and the multiple targets I felt on the front of my body, I felt like the a buck caught in the open on the first day of deer hunting season.

We
used the church to block us from the view of the swarm on the street as we pushed away from the relative safety of the alley and into parking lot.  We moved in a near duck walk and made it to the first SUV without being shot.  Thank God for small miracles.  While it was great to have not been taken out by a sniper, it concerned me greatly that no one was watching the lot from above.  That didn’t bode well for my friends inside the church.

We cautiously weaved between the other vehicles.  We got next to a minivan and I squatted while he surveyed the entryway.  

“Shit,” he said.  “I count five or six of those undead assholes outside the door.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“How long will it take you to open the door?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty seconds.”

“Okay.  I’m the only one with a gun.  So, if you try to take me out, those things will be having you for breakfast.  It’s best if you concentrate on getting us inside and I hold them off.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said knowing what he said was true.  I had no tricks up my sleeve. 

He pulled me forward again and said, “Let’s go, Hoss.”  

We made a dash for the church and clung to the west wall like it was some sacred security blanket.  The shadows kept us hidden until we had to move around
a van that was wedged up against the side the building.  That’s when the first zombie spotted us and started in our direction.

Kurtz moved past me, arm extended and shot the thing in the head.  The others around the door reacted to the shot and jerked their attention our way.  That gunshot was a signal to them that food had arrived -- this time it came as a delivery.  Kurtz moved forward, shooting deliberately, making each shot count.   Four of the zombies fell in succession, but the slide went back on his gun
.  He stopped to reload.  I wondered how many bullets he had left.

Chapter 31
On the Inside

As he reloaded, I saw t
here was the smallest of window of opportunity for me to run.  Two things stopped me; one was the fact that Kara may need me to get her back at the school if she was hurt and the second was three zombies coming around the corner at the front of the church.  That cut off my escape route. 

“We’ve got trouble coming around from the front,” I said.

“Shit,” he said, shooting the last zombie near the door.

There were two sets of doors.  The outer doors were glass, but it looked like most of the glass had been knocked ou
t during the night.  This allowed us to make our way into the alcove with ease but offered no protection as the zombies could follow us in.  When we had first set-up shop at the church, we had torn out the original set of inner glass doors and replaced them with a set of sturdy metal doors.

“
Get that door open,” Kurtz said with an edge in his voice.  “I’ve got enough bullets, but the way they’re coming, they’ll overwhelm us fast.”  

The locking mechanism was fairly simple, designed to be opened quickly in case of an emergency, but was complicated enough to keep any live intruders from easily figuring it
out and definitely would befuddle a zombie.  It consisted of three hasps with bolts through them.  You had to unscrew each bolt.  I started on the first one when it hit me that the door was probably locked from the inside and I froze.             

Kurtz fired
shot after shot, the alcove filling with the smell of cordite.  I heard the bullets hitting home and the thuds of zombie’s bodies falling onto the asphalt.

“What the fuck’s taking so long,”
he said.

“I don’t know if the door is locked on the inside.”

“What!? You didn’t think of that earlier?” he said continuing to fire.

I was paralyzed by my own stupidity.  While I didn’t want this guy inside, I didn’t want him shooting me in the back.

“You’ve got ten seconds to open that door or else I’ll shoot you and leave you for the zombies.”

I started on the second bolt
at the bottom of the door and got it out.  He continued firing, backing his legs in against my side.  My workspace was getting tighter by the second.

“Five seconds.”  I heard him stop, reload, and start firing again.  The guttural moans and hisses of the zombies were so close that I imagined their breath on my neck.  The last bolt was being a real bitch.  Whoever had put it in last had nearly stripped it.  It took all my force to get it to budge and it turned as slowly as a windmill in a gentle breeze.

“You’re out of time, Asswipe,” he said.  I felt the pressure of one of his knees brush my back, as he rotated towards me.  The zombies were closing in, but he might actually shoot off one of my kneecaps and leave me as a distraction as he made a run for it. 

The bolt made one last turn and I yanked it out, holding it up for him to see.  I lunged forward putting my shoulder against the door, pushing it inward.  He surged past me, knocking me to the floor as the door gave way letting us inside.

I rolled over and jumped to my feet yelling at him, “Help me close the door!”  The zombies were closing on the open door.  He could have escaped into the interior of the church, but had to suspect that we probably still had people inside.  I might be a good bargaining chip in a face-off.  He added his substantial weight to the effort of closing the door.  One zombie wedged his upper torso in the door, effectively stopping it from closing.  Its one arm whipped about trying to get at us as it groaned a pitiful noise, sounding almost desperate. 

The soldier put the barrel of his gun against the side of the thing’s head and blew its brains out.  It fell to the floor more
, out of the door than in.  Bony and mangled hands grabbed at the door trying to get some sort of purchase to pry the door open to get to us. 

“The dead one’s blocking the door,” I said.  “Let up a little and I’ll pull it inside.”  He banged the butt of his gun at the clutching hands knocking them
away.  I grabbed the undead thing by the arm and yanked it inside.  I pulled so hard that the arm nearly detached from the thing’s body, bones breaking and separating at the shoulder socket, but the arm held on by a few tendons. 

Both of us put our backs against the door and pushed with our legs.  Every couple seconds, he would smack the fingers of the zombies with the butt of his pistol.  With one final Herculean push we got the door closed, taking off a half dozen zombie fingers in the effort.  I pulled down the double latches, securing it. 

“Not too shabby,” he said, catching his breath.  “I could use a man like you on the outside when we hit the road again.  You should consider it because you sure as shit must not fit in with these holy rollers.”

“I think I’ll stay,” I said, my breathing labored from the exertion of closing the door.

“Is that your final answer?” he asked with a wry smile.  Despite being a total asshole, there was something likable about this man and I could see why his men followed him.  He had some sort of innate charisma.  Then again, they said the same thing about Hitler and the devil.

When I didn’t answer, he said, “I thought so.  So, where are the guns,
Asswipe?”

I knew I was just playing for any chance I could break free to get back to Kara.  There was no way I was taking him to one of bigger caches of weapons, so
I pointed up the stairs towards the first floor.  We had a very small set of weapons in one of the front rooms.  I started up the stairs with him right behind me.

Just as I reached the top of the stairs, I saw a shadow cross the end of the corridor and disappear into one of the Sunday school meeting rooms.  I wondered if it was one of our people or maybe one of the undead.  If it was one of our people, maybe they could get the drop on him.  If it was one of the undea
d, maybe it would offer enough distraction I could make a run for it. 

The warriors kept several caches of arms around the church.  The bigger stuff was down in the basement.  I was hoping that our people had
moved most of the guns there, but I held out equal hope that there were enough there to placate Kurtz.

The air was thick with dust and the smell of cordite along with the ste
nch of the undead.  Shell casings littered the floor.  There had been a heavy firefight in here during the night.

As I reached the top of the steps, I saw three bodies on the floor outside the sanctuary entrance.  Two of them were zombies.  The last body was one of the church deacons.  An elderly guy who always stood outside the sanctuary on Sundays, greeting
people with a smile and a hand shake.  Mr. Wood.  He had chided me more than once on my lack of attendance.  Something had taken a bite out of one of his arms and his neck was a bloody mess, large chunks of it missing.  

I stepped over his body.  “We have some weapons up this way,” I said, turning the corner and leading him towards the nursery.  The hallway was a mess.  Part of the ceiling had collapsed onto
the floor, no doubt from their big gun.  The front entrance had held, but there were major cracks in the reinforced doors.  Desiccated fingers worked the cracks, looking for anyway to get inside, their efforts accompanied by moaning. 

The hallway was only about forty feet long.  On the right side were two doors, one leading into
a meeting room and one leading into the Pastor’s office.  The single door on the left side led to the nursery.  I edged around the chunks of the ceiling, nearly tripping on an overturned chair.  Kurtz was a little more graceful.

“Drop the gun,” a voice called out be
hind us.  It was Kara.  She aimed around the corner with half her body exposed.  That turned out to be her first mistake.

Asking was her second mistake.  She should have shot first and asked questions later. 
Kurtz spun without hesitation and fired three quick shots in her direction.  She fell backwards and out of view, her rifle clattering to the floor. 

Without thinking, I lowered my shoulder rammed into
his side, sending him sprawling face first across the pile of collapsed ceiling debris.  For that brief moment, I had the advantage and decided to press it for all it was worth.  I reared back and gave him two hard kidney punches.  His muscles were so thick and tight it felt like I was hitting a concrete wall.  It must have made an impact though because he groaned.  He kicked back at me, but I moved just in time to avoid his foot impacting with my family jewels.  Still, the kick knocked me off balance as it glanced off my inner thigh. 

He started
to roll over, bringing the pistol in a dangerous arc towards me.  At the last millisecond, I kicked at his hand, striking the gun and sending it down the corridor toward the sanctuary.  Before I knew it, one of his giant fists hit me on the hip knocking me backwards.  He used that time to jump to his feet. 

In a hand-to-hand face-off, there was no question I was toast.  He had size, strength, and training advantages along with his brutal nature. 

When I stumbled backwards I ended up down on one knee, my hand out behind me braced on the broken chair.  I held that pose looking up at him as he closed in on me, a confident smile spreading across his face.  He was going to enjoy this.  Or, at least, thought he was.

I
had only one shot at this.  Just as he reared back to get the most into his next punch, I pulled the chair free from the debris and brought it forward, smashing it across his midsection, knocking him backwards.  The chair broke in two.  I hoisted what was left of it in both hands and swung for the fences.  It broke across his face, sending him against the wall.  The rest of the chair broke away on impact leaving me only one leg, but it was enough.  Moving in, I battered his head and neck with the chair leg again and again, not stopping until the leg splintered and broke into pieces, sending him to the floor with a bloody pulp for a face.  For good measure, I kicked him in the side.

“Payback is a bitch, isn’t it?” I shouted.  

My vision swam with pinpricks of orange light and I could feel blood pulsing in my ears. Before this night, I had never felt blood lust before, even with the zombies, but now in just the span of a few short hours, I certainly knew it.  First with the soldiers in the high school and now with Kurtz. 

The only reason I stopped a
t all is that I remembered Kara had been shot.  I dropped what was left of the chair leg and ran to her.  Her body was laying half around the corner in front of the sanctuary, looking lifeless.  Her shoulder was bloody from a gunshot wound.

I fell beside her, a knot in my stomach forming, and reached out to touch her neck, feeling for a pulse.  As soon as I touched her, her eyes fluttered open and her hand came up to grab mine. 

“You’re okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, my vision
starting to cloud with tears.  “But what about you?

“It’s not too bad, but it hurts to move,” she said, her voice soft.

“Then don’t move.”

She gave me a weak smile.

“How’d you get back here?”  I asked.

“With that...that...asshole throwing hand grenades at me, I had to find another exit out of the school.  By the time I got out, I saw him leading you away, but I got tangled up with a load of zombies.  I caught up
with in the church.  All your shooting brought a lot of zombies down on that entrance, so I had to go around to the other side.  I was able to sneak past the zombies on the east side.  That’s when I saw you.”

“That’s enough of an explanation.  We’ve got to get you some medical attention.”

“Doc Wilson can patch me up.”

“Yes,” I said starting to stand when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.  “Won’t that bastard ever die?”

CHAPTER 32

Sanctuary f
rom the Dead

It was as if I had entered the worst horror film of my life and life in the past few months had been pretty horrific.  This was horror of a level of magnitude. 
Kurtz, his face nothing but a bloody mess, was crawling across the floor toward the pistol I had kicked away. 

“You’ve got to
be fucking kidding me,” I said. 

I quickly calculated that he’d reach that gun before I could reach him.  I looked to Kara’s rifle, but she stopped me.

“It’s empty,” she said.

“You were trying to bluff him?”

She nodded her head.

He had the gun and was struggling to get to his feet.  I grabbed Kara and pulled her into the Adult Sunday School room, shut the door behind me and deci
ded to head into the sanctuary.  I had to get him to track me and not Kara.