Latter-Day of the Dead (17 page)

“Stand back, Elias!” my father shouted as he readied his defense.

I grabbed Kib and pushed him back with me. Rodell placed a knee on the window frame and was able to get his other foot up on the sill. He lurched forward, now standing upright in the window frame. My father moved up close and put the shotgun right in Rodell’s chest. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. The close-range impact sent Rodell flying back out the window. My father, Kib, and I raced to the opening to see Rodell sprawled out on the ground.

“We better get the window boarded up,” my father said simply.

“Wait,” I said, still watching through the opening.

“He’s not getting up from that,” my father insisted.

“Just wait.”

I watched the body uneasily. Some of the brothers stepped behind us to see the aftermath.

“Ain’t no survivin’ a blast like that,” one of the brothers prescribed.

Not that I wanted to be right, but before that statement could settle Rodell’s legs began writhing across the ground. We all watched with a morbid curiosity. He eventually rolled over to his stomach before pushing himself up to his knees. He placed his hands over the buckshot holes that adorned his chest before groaning with discontent.

“I don’t understand,” my father said.

“Shoot him again,” a spectator urged.

He raised his shotgun again and looked to me for approval. I shrugged my shoulders with indifference. Stepping up and leaning out the window, my father fired another shot into Rodell’s chest. Rodell corkscrewed back down to the ground.

This time he was back to his feet much quicker. Rodell stumbled towards the window. My father let off two more shots, which only temporarily impeded Rodell’s forward progress.

“He won’t go down!” my father hollered.

“Maybe if we burn him?” Kib said, lifting up one of the kerosene lamps lighting the living room.

We didn’t have time to debate the merits of such an action. Rodell made his way back to the window. He leaned in to get himself back up on the window sill. Kib bounced over and slammed the glass lamp on top of the bent over attacker. The kerosene-filled base exploded and spilled down Rodell’s back. Flames quickly traversed the kerosene path. He arched up in reaction briefly before getting back to his attempt to enter the house.

He now looked more demonic then ever. Fire rose up the backside of his body and engulfed his head while he clawed his way inside.

“Lord forgive me,” my father uttered. He crouched in front of our burning brother and pointed the shotgun to his one-eyed, fiery face.

The gun muzzle sparked and within a split-second Rodell’s face was gone. His body crumpled to the floor against the short wall under the open window in a flaming mess. The window frame and wall were spattered with brains and blood. I could see the pink scissor handles melting away in the cavorting flames.

If I had to describe the smell in two words I would probably use:
burnt
and
skunk
.

Kib grabbed the blanket off the couch and batted the flames down repeatedly until they dissipated. You could barely tell that the charred heap used to be a person. Our brothers gathered around to both support us and block the gruesome sight from the women and children. My father was visibly shaken.

“You alright?” I asked.

He shook his head in disbelief, “Those shots didn’t even faze him.”

“The Devil knows no pain,” Verdell interjected and made his way over now that it was safe.

“I stared Satan himself right in the eyes,” my father attested.

“
Eye
…because of the -” Kib trailed off while pointing two fingers into one of his eyes, realizing a tad late it wasn’t the time for that.

“Our faith will face the ultimate test, brothers,” Verdell announced. “Only the true righteous will survive.”

Brother Jenkins and Brother Proctor rolled the smoking corpse of Rodell up and back out the open window. We were all uncomfortable with the thud his body made on the other side.

“We need to board this window up if this is where we are staying,” Brother Jenkins said.

“We’ve got bunk beds in the children’s room…that should give you enough wood,” my father explained.

Brother Jenkins and Brother Proctor hopped back to the bedroom to begin dismantling what they would need. A few others joined in the efforts, getting the window barricaded in no time.

It was late. Most people were asleep on the floor in the living room and throughout the rest of the house. I sat with my father at the fortified window.

“You should get some sleep,” he said.

“Yeah,” I agreed but did not leave.

“I’m serious. Get some rest. I’ll take this watch…you’ll keep watch next round.”

“Okay.”

I found an open space on the floor nearby. I folded my arms in front of me for a substitute pillow. It was actually easy to fall asleep with the fatigue I was feeling.

The sleep was short but impactful. I blinked a few times once I woke, trying to keep my eyes open looking at my father. He was sitting in a chair at the boarded window. The sun was rising, shooting rays of light between the boards. It was shining on my father’s face, allowing me to see the tears streaming down his face. I had never seen my father cry.

“Hey,” I whispered, stepping over sleeping group members to get close.

“Good morning, Elias.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing I s’pose,” he said, letting out a loud sigh.

“No, really…what is it?”

“Son, do you think faith can be strong enough if it is just blind faith?”

“There’s another kind?” I pushed back.

“Well, I reckon that’s a good point.”

“If it wasn’t blind, it wouldn’t be faith. It would just be…like, I dunno…fact or something. And if it was fact you wouldn’t need to have faith because it just would be what it is, or something.”

“Why can’t it just be fact?” he asked, gripping his shotgun tightly.

His question was throwing me for a loop. “It is fact…just not in our lifetime here. It is a truth we are exposed to in the eternal life. Our faith we hold in this world is what will carry us to that truth in the eternal heavens. You’re the one that taught me that.”

“I know.” He wiped the tears off of his face. “I just needed to hear it.”

“Why?” I asked with care, grabbing his shoulder.

Tears again gathered in his eyes. He stared straight into the sunlight. I watched him for a little while before following his eyes out to the sunrise. I squinted through the sun’s glare and jumped up to the window.

“Oh, no.” I stepped back in disbelief.

“We might be finding that truth sooner than planned,” he said stone-faced.

It looked like the entire infected congregation was outside the house. They were everywhere. Men, women, children. They were just standing there, waiting. I ran to the back – same thing. From each window of the house random, black-eyed followers could be seen. We were surrounded.

The trepidation made its way through everyone in the house as they woke up and found out what was happening. A panic-stricken group being confined to such close quarters could spell disaster if we weren’t careful.

In the hallway my sister Sariah and a worried Keturah Dawn tracked me down. I smiled at Sariah, trying to show her things were okay. She pulled my arm up and slid in next to my hip for an embrace.

Keturah asked, “Why is this happening, Brother Elias?”

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“I don’t understand. We have stayed right in the eyes of the Lord, have we not?” she asked.

“Yes, we have.”

“I am scared,” she concluded.

“So am I.”

“Me too,” Sariah added.

Keturah looked at me for answers. “So what do we do?”

I held Sariah close and took a deep breath for composure. “We pray.”

to be continued…