Don't Dare Call Them Zombies : Books 1-4 (16 page)

BOOK: Don't Dare Call Them Zombies : Books 1-4
4.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“I've only tried to treat a bite wound, not a scratch,” I answered. “It didn't work, and the woman turned into one of those freaks several hours later.”

He remained silent as we walked into the social hall. A few of the men, including the owner of the pistol, were breaking the rules by smoking by the door. A fan was blowing the smoke outside.

I approached the man who had loaned me the pistol, and I
couldn’t remember if he’d shared his name with me or not.

“I would like to return this. Thank you
for letting me borrow it,” I said. “I'm not sure if I caught your name earlier.”

“The name is Sam,” he answered.

“Thanks,” he said as he accepted the pistol.

“Want a cig?” he asked as he held out a pack of cigarettes.

“No thank you, but I appreciate the offer?” I responded.

He looked even more worn out and tired than when he handed me the pistol before the attack.

“How is Meredith holding up?” he asked Robert.


She’s alright for now,” Robert said. “So far, she has no sign of fever or sweating. Her wound was not deep and they cleaned it out real good. Maybe she has a chance.”

“I don't really like that spiteful witch,” Sam said after taking another puff of his cigarette. “But no one deserves to go through the hell of becoming one of them.”

One of the men who were smoking was cleaning a rifle. I recognized him as one of the riflemen who participated in the battle outside. My best guess is that they were not designated patrols, but probably were avid hunters that were on standby to help out, if need be.


We’re going for a quick run in the morning to my shop,” Robert told the group of men. “Hank's van has a flat tire, and I'm sure I have a one that will work. I just need to get it and bring it back here.”

Sam looked back at us and stated,
“I'll go with y'all. But no messing around. We go there, get the tire, and get back.

“Sounds fine with me,” I said.

“We will go in my truck,” Sam said.

The other men smoking cigarettes stood up and walked off.

“What's with them?” I asked.

“Some of us don't
really like the fact we’re holed up in a church with a bunch of holy roller, Bible thumpers,” he said.

“Everyone has seemed pretty nice to me,” I said.

“Sure. There are some nice folks here. Robert here is a good guy. But there ain't something quite right about this place. For example, what's in the...,” Sam was cut off by Robert.

“That's enough,” I know this church
isn’t perfect, but we have been very good to all of our guests.

“True,” Sam responded. “But I thought Christians were not supposed to keep s
ecrets.”

“It's a sin to lie, but it's not a sin to simply keep some things private,” Robert said.

I decided not to let my curiosity get me involved in the conversation. Jennifer and I would probably be leaving soon anyway. There was no need for me to get involved in the politics of this place.

Trying to break up the current conversation I asked, “What time should we meet in the morning?”

“Right after breakfast,” Sam responded.

“Alright,” Robert said.

“Jennifer will want to come too. Is that alright?” I asked.

“We really don't need her slowing us down,” Sam said.

“She won't, I promise,” I vowed. “She can hold her own. If it were not for her, I probably wouldn’t be here talking.”

“Alright, she comes too,” Sam said. “But for goodness sake, keep your critter he
re!”

“Okay,” I responded.

“Please excuse me, I need to go tell Jennifer what's going on,” I told the group.

Turning around I noticed cots being pulled out of a storage room and being setup in the social hall. In fact, there was additional cots setup along
the hall way leading to the sanctuary. Patricia had been right; the church was crowded. Jennifer and I would need to check on the dog, and then find a place we could sleep. Then we would need to discuss whatever it was that Jennifer wanted to talk about.

Just before opening the sanctuary door to find Jennifer, a hand grabbed onto my arm. It was Reverend McMann. I turned around and looked at him. He quickly let go and apologized.

“I'm sorry for that. Pastor Sikes would like to speak with you,” he said. “Will you come with me?”

I followed him down the hallway that led to the pastor's office, but we passed by the room and continued to the end of the hall. An unmarked door was before us. Most of the doors in the church had been marked with a designation such as
“nursery”, “senior high”, “junior high”, or “senior adults.” However, this door didn’t have one.


He’s this way,” Reverend McMann stated as he opened the door.

As I walked inside I saw stacks of old hymnals, chairs, and various sized boxes against the w
alls. The floor was covered by a large area rug. Reverend Sikes sat in a chair positioned near the end of the room, close to a window. A table was in front of him with a number of papers on it along with what looked like a box of photographs.

Reverend
McMann motioned for me to sit down in one of a few chairs that were positioned on the opposite side of the table from the senior pastor. After sitting down I noticed just how musty and stale the room smelled. Dust was everywhere, and it seemed the room hadn’t been cleaned in a very long time. Oddly, the blue area rug seemed clean; it looked like it was almost brand new.

“How are you feeling?” Pastor Sikes asked.

“I'm alright,” I stated. However, I had lied. In total truth, I felt very good physically. However, the spooky ambiance of the room was making me feel uneasy.

“Good. I know your experience with Ms. Teresa, my sister, was not something you expected. I want to apologize for that. Although, I believe what she did was in God's will,” he said.

I sat quietly as I thought about how to respond. Part of me wanted to ask how attempted electrocution became God's will. However, I again felt something telling me to let that go.

“I can't say I enjoyed it,” I responded. “I'm sure she meant well, but it hurt.”

“What did you feel?” he asked.

“It was as if electricity was flowing through her and into me. Honestly, it felt as if a live wire had smacked me in the forehead,” I responded.

“That was the Holy Ghost,” he said.

Looking very old, weak, and worn down
he looked out the window.

“Do you consider yourself a Christian?” he asked.

“I'm not a saint and do not regularly attend church, but I was saved when I was a young child,” I answered.

“So you profess to be saved by the blood of Jesus Christ?” he asked.

“Yes, I do. But I don't profess to be a good Christian. I'm a sinner, and I know that I don't measure up to your standards,” I said.

“What do you think our standards are?” he questioned.

“Your people seem to be devoted, solid Christians. They’re devoted to God and each other. Although I consider myself to be a generally good person, compared to all of you I'm a heathen,” I said.

“Well, regardless what you think about yourself, God has chosen you for something,” he said.

“What do you mean chosen for something?” I asked.

“What happened to you was a movement of the Holy Spirit like I
haven’t seen in a long time. The last time I saw something similar was when I witnessed a great evangelist of God pray over a missionary who was called to preach in China,” he said.

“What happ
ened to that evangelist?” I asked.

“His life was used by God,” he said. “My sister told me that the spirit of God instructed her to share its power with you, because God has a special use for your life. Regardless of your relationship with God in the past,
you have the Holy Ghost in you now in a very major way,” he explained.

“Okay,” I said.

“The Holy Ghost can now continue to grow inside of you,” he stated. “My sister has a number of gifts from the spirit. Now, you are probably going to receive a number of gifts as well.”

“Are you saying that I'm going to be called to preach?” I asked. “Although I enjoy a good sermon, I don't think that is the life for me.”

“I don't think you’ll be called to preach, son,” he stated. “I think God is going to use you to fight our new enemy.”

“You mean the freaks?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Just do what your heart and the spirit tells you,” he said.

“However, I may have a favor to
ask of you before you leave this church, but I’ll have to pray about it some more.”

“Alright,” I said while nodding.

From beneath the floor I thought I heard a bump or a knock.

“Did you just hear that?” I asked him.

“Do you have a Bible,” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Not on me,” I said.

He reached towards the table and picked up a small book.

“Here, take this,” he said. “Read it and learn from it.”

“Thank you,” I said as I took the book.

“It's time to go,” Reverend McMann stated.

“Take care,” I said as I stood up and walked out of the room.

The door closed behind me. I was alone in the hall way. It was good to be out of the particularly strange room. Something
hadn’t seemed “right” about it, and the thump from below the hardwood flooring was particularly disturbing.

With the Bible given to me by the pastor in my hand, I proceeded to walk quickly to the sanctuary. A moment after entering I found Jennifer. She was still talk to Roy's wife and a couple other female church members. I motioned for h
er to join me, and she excused herself from her new acquaintances.

“You have been gone for a while. I was starting to get a bit worried,” Jennifer said.

“I'm fine. Did you say there was something we needed to talk about?” I asked.

“Yes, well... it's just this place. I do not feel totally comfortable here. The people act very friendly, but I don't think we should stay too long. Something is just off about this place,” she stated.

“No kidding,” I responded.

 

 

Chapter Four

 

I could
hear raindrops falling on the roof of the church as Jennifer and I began walking towards the social hall. It was late and both of us were exhausted; we needed to find a place to sleep for a few hours. We spoke in whispers as we walked down the dimly lit corridors of the church so as not to disturb the residents here, most of who had retired to their sleeping quarters. I told her about the trip to Robert's place in the morning; she seemed eager for us to get the tire, and get back on the road to the relocation center.

 

We walked gently along the hallway and we could see that in the rooms on each side of us and in the cots placed against the walls, people were trying to sleep. I thought that perhaps the gentle rhythm of the falling rain might help people here fall asleep and forget, for a time, the horrors outside.

 

Moments before we reached the door to the social hall, one of the “common areas” in which we were allowed to set up our cots and sleep, a numbers of teenagers burst through it coming towards us. A young teenage girl in a short skirt and tank top was holding an older boy around the waist, and they were followed by two more boys and then a pale girl with fiery red hair. They snickered amongst themselves as they staggered past us down the hall.

 

The smell of smoke and alcohol was strong as they went by, and I remembered a couple of them from the service in the sanctuary, and wondered why they were heading back in the same direction. They seemed to make no effort to be quiet, and I could hear every footstep made as they made their way down the hall.

 

“They’re going to wake everyone up,” Jennifer whispered in my ear as we walked into the social hall.

 

Since Robert and I had spoken with Sam earlier in the evening a number of cots had been set up in the social hall. As I glanced around my surroundings, I saw that even a few of the men that had been smoking outside by the doorway were now sleeping soundly, but they as they slept they were clutching their rifles.

 

Jennifer and I walked up to the storage room and opened the already cracked door. We found there were a few remaining cots and pulled two of them out, along with a couple of heavy quilts and some pillows. One corner of the social hall was unoccupied, so we set up our beds there.

 

“Try to get some sleep tonight,” Jennifer said. She put her hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze before letting go, sitting down, taking her shoes off, and flopping onto her cot. The springs made a squeaky sound as pulled he quilt over her and turned on her side towards me. I sat down and let out a sigh. My body ached, my feet were sore, and my clothes were dirty. I peeled off my dirty over-shirt which revealed my slightly less dirty T-shirt beneath it.

BOOK: Don't Dare Call Them Zombies : Books 1-4
4.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Natasha's Legacy by Heather Greenis
Angry Lead Skies by Glen Cook
El sueño robado by Alexandra Marínina
Golden Trail by Kristen Ashley