The Regulators - 02 (36 page)

Very well, my dear, but please bear with me. I still need to
talk about my education. It will help explain my state of mind and perhaps
allow me to bear some of the burden weighing down my soul.

“
Very well Father,
please begin
.”

I was born from a moderately wealthy family. A family that
knew the value of an education, and because of my family, I grew to be a
studious sort of fellow. It was therefore no surprise to anyone when I was
accepted into the best possible schools, but it was a shock to all when I
entered the priesthood after receiving my doctorate. Everyone imagined I would
enter a profession that would grant me a fortune and great prestige.

You see, my dear, I’m moving along quite rapidly. I’m only
touching on the important parts.

“
Yes Father, you are
certainly moving quickly
.”

The where’s and why’s aren’t the important part of the tale.
The important part is that I was a highly educated and ambitious man when I
decided to become a priest. You see, I had always been a believer. I had always
been fascinated with the Catholic Church. And, despite my excellent marks, I
was bored.

The priesthood was the only thing that held some fascination
for me. Again, I dedicated myself to my studies. I was an ambitious scholar
when I became a man of God. Have you noticed that I’ve used the word ambitious
twice?”

I shook my head that I
didn’t
.

Ambition was the key to summing up my desires. I don’t think
I became a man of God to help people and teach them the ways of Christ. I
believe that I entered the priesthood for selfish reasons. I had too much
ambition. I had dreams of how far I could go. I wanted the Vatican.

I received El Paso.

A man of my intellect and skills was sent to El Paso
probably because I spoke Spanish fluently. Of course, the church there was
doing poorly. They told me that a man of my skills would have no problems
turning it around, but I truly believe that I was sent to El Paso not to save
the church but only because I spoke the language.

I detested El Paso. I hated the hot weather. A man could
boil in his own skin just standing outside on a summer afternoon. I also
resented the people. I never let on that I felt that way, of course, but I did.

I was an unhappy man stuck in a thankless job in a city that
would do nothing to fuel my many ambitions.

Now, I believe that God sent me there for a reason. Why else
would a man of my intellect be sent to such a place if not for the will of God?
I must sound rather arrogant. It isn’t the most attractive side of me, but it’s
important to know. It was the cause of my state of mind, my very frustrated and
unhappy state of mind.

Sure, I did my duties and I did them well. I brought up
attendance in the church. I made improvements. I did the work of God, but I
would have abandoned all if the opportunity had presented itself. I longed to
escape. I dreamed about going on to bigger and better things. It never once
occurred to me that such a young and inexperienced man was more than lucky to
have been given the opportunities that I was given. I was on the verge of
becoming lost in my own arrogance.

And then the zombies came.

It was a hot, humid day that I will never forget. It’s funny
how people so easily believe that the dead can walk, but they find the idea of
El Paso being humid during the summers an impossibility. Well, others have told
it true. El Paso can become extremely humid during the summers.

I never saw the news or heard the radio reports. I’m not too
interested in those things. What I learned I heard from the worshippers
pounding on the door of my church. There were four of them, all elderly, all
terrified. I allowed them entrance immediately. I recognized them all, of
course. They were regulars at my services.

“The dead have come back to life, Father!” one of them cried
out.

“They are attacking the living!” shrieked another.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

I simply couldn’t believe them. The idea sounded preposterous.
I was beginning to wonder if they weren’t on drugs or perhaps suffering some
sort of mass hysteria. They tried to explain, but they were all so excited they
began talking over one another and I couldn’t understand a thing.

One of them men began trying to close the door. He seemed
positively paranoid about leaving it open. I put my arms around the man’s
shoulders and gently led him back to the others. He was in quite a state I can
assure you.

My church was on Mesa. It wasn’t very far from the university.
Now, Mesa is a high traffic road and it took me just a moment to realize that
something was wrong. Something was missing. It was the traffic. There was no
traffic outside the doors of the church.

I took a look outside just to be sure and sure enough, the
street was empty. The only exceptions were some abandoned cars in the middle of
the road. The emptiness was shocking. Then, I began to hear the screams. They
weren’t anywhere close. They were off in the distance, but I could hear them
well enough without the usual traffic outside the church.

I saw other people running down the street, and I called
them over. The elderly man that tried to close the doors began to panic when I
did so. He didn’t want anyone else to come into the church. He believed that I
was inviting some great danger in by doing so.

“This is the house of God,” I assured the man. “He will
allow no harm to come to his children in this house.”

For most of the morning I invited anyone I saw on the street
to seek sanctuary inside the church. They all told me the same tale. The dead
were attacking the living. Some of them even suffered bite wounds from the
calamity that was going on out there.

I treated the wounded and calmed the frightened.

They had complete trust in me. I had resented them for so
long and they all had such faith in me. It was heartbreaking. I felt completely
ashamed of myself. I vowed right then and there to become a better man. I would
become a man that deserved their trust and faith.

My new resolve was about to be tested.

The first of the wounded died. I had no idea why a bite
wound on the leg would have caused the man to die, but I believed that possibly
the mouth of his attacker possessed some type of toxin. At the time, I was
still unable to believe that his attacker was a zombie. I hate that word, by
the way. It reminds me of a horror movie. It eliminates the suffering the poor
soul went through when they became a zombie. I believe it’s dehumanizing.

Still, it’s the only word available, so forgive me for using
it.

“
What about shambler
?”

I believe that one is even worse. I’ve heard that handsome,
polite young man named Dudley using it quite frequently. I’ve actually asked
him not to use it in my presence and he was kind enough to refrain. Well, I
believe he made attempts to refrain. He possibly takes after his uncle too much
to completely abandon his enjoyment of irritating others.

I found myself
laughing at his assessment. Knowing both Dudley and Jaxon I wasn’t shocked to
hear it. He certainly wasn’t trying to be funny, but it struck me as hilarious
nonetheless
.

“
They are quite the
characters, aren’t they
?”

They are indeed, my dear, but that isn’t necessarily a good
thing.

“
Tell me more Father.
Don’t let me interrupt you
.”

Well, the man came back from the dead and attacked me. At
first he went after his own wife, but I intervened before he could bite her. I
grabbed his shoulders as she fought underneath him. Finally, I was able to spin
him around and throw him off.

He tumbled to the ground and came up instantly to his feet.

As his eyes met mine, I knew that the people were correct.
The man was a walking corpse. The man was evil, or more accurately, there was
something evil inside of the man’s shell. Evil has no place in the house of the
Lord.

I reached for the gold crucifix around my neck and held it
aloft. In that church, I commanded the power of the Lord and the Lord would
never allow a demon to endanger his flock in His own house.

I commanded the demon to abandon the body. I commanded the
demon to leave the church and go back to hell. Everyone began to panic. They
were calling for me to run away. They were afraid for me. I was afraid as well.
Yet, I held my ground and faced the demon. I called to God and asked him to
banish the evil from His house.

The zombie charged me.

I was tackled to the floor. I didn’t feel the hand of God. I
didn’t feel his love and protection emanating through the cross. I struggled
with the zombie on top of me, but my mind was a million miles away. I felt that
God had abandoned me.

I knew it was because of my ego and ambition. I knew it was
because I entered the priesthood for all the wrong reasons. I was simply not
worthy to be a man of the cloth. I was unworthy and the Lord had abandoned me.

I couldn’t accept my punishment. I just couldn’t. Because if
I accepted his abandonment, the people I had brought into the church and
promised safety would have no protection. I had promised them a refuge and I
just couldn’t fail them.

I told this to God as I struggled with the zombie. I told
him of my promise to be a better man and I begged him for the opportunity to
prove myself. Still, God did not answer in the way that I was hoping for. No
Godlike power vibrated down my arm and turned the zombie clawing at my face to
dust.

It would have made things easier, but the ability to banish
the evil never manifested. Instead, I felt the Lord’s strength. I have always
been an active man. I have always enjoyed exercising and did my very best to
stay fit, but this was something different.

I felt positively strong.

I realized in that brief moment that the Lord had heard my
prayers. He was answering me. Not in the way that I wanted Him to answer me,
but He was answering me all the same.

I threw the zombie off of my chest and stood up. The thing
was instantly back on its feet again. This time when he ran towards me, I ran
away. I led him away from the terrified people. I led him through the sanctuary
and down a hallway through the back of the room which led to some offices.
Right before I reached the offices, I left the church all together through the
side exit.

The zombie followed me. He was unbelievable fast, but I had
no problems maintaining a distance from him. Unfortunately, I had run into the
church’s garden. The garden had only one exit and for that I needed a key. It
was a square area enclosed by a high rock wall. I had trapped myself. Aside
from the flowers, there was only a utility shed.

I ran to the shed.

The zombie followed, but I was able to close the door behind
me before the zombie could reach me. All was right as the zombie pounded on the
thin wooden door. I had saved the people inside the church. I had led the
monster away from them. It wouldn’t take him long to break down the thin wooden
door that separated us, but I saved the people I begged God to allow me to save.

Then I heard a shrill cry from inside the church.

The cry was unnaturally loud. I was able to hear it even
through the pounding coming from outside the shed. I realized that it wasn’t
human. I knew that there were others still inside the sanctuary that had been
bitten.

I became frantic. I was needed. I was trapped. I was failing
miserably, and I desperately wanted to succeed.

I saw the chainsaw.

It was lying there amongst other pieces of equipment. I
probably saw it a thousand times but never paid it any attention. The gardening
I had been doing since I moved into the church never required the use of a
chainsaw. I wasn’t even sure that it would work.

I picked it up and noticed that it was too light. There was
an old and rusted gas tank right next to it. Quickly I poured the gasoline into
the chainsaw. The door to the shed was beginning to crack and splinter apart
just as I resealed the gas cap.

I could see the pale hands of the zombie reaching through
the cracks as I pulled the starter cord. The chainsaw rumbled but did not
catch. I pulled again and again and again and again. I pulled till I was out of
breath and thoroughly exhausted.

I pulled a final time as the door finally fell apart and the
zombie entered the shed with bloody fists. The chainsaw started. The dangerous
chain whirled and the loud sound of the little motor filled the room.

The zombie charged me.

That first battle was a bit of a lesson for me. I had to
learn where my enemy was the weakest. How could I have known that only damage
to the brain would put a zombie to rest? In my ignorance, I unfortunately made
a mess.

But I emerged victorious from the shed. I didn’t have time
to celebrate my victory, however; the screams were still echoing from inside
the church, and I ran to meet them.

I had gathered about thirty or so people inside the church
before the first man turned into a zombie. So, it was the twenty or so
uninjured souls that saw me violently cut down with the chainsaw those that had
been turned. Violence, by the way, was something I abhorred my entire life, but
I felt not the slightest bit of guilt as I cut down our undead attackers.

That, my dear, is how I earned my nickname.

“
I’m sorry, Father. I
had no idea
.”

Don’t be sorry. I’m not sorry. I did the right thing. I felt
bad that the people who turned were made to suffer, but I have never felt bad
about killing a zombie. In some ways, I think I was born to do it.

“
At what point did you
hear about the General
?”

We heard about the General around the same time everyone
else did. He was becoming quite the celebrity. At the time he had begun his
rise to fame, I think my followers and I had rescued around two hundred and
fifty people. Many of those people had laptops. None of them wanted to try and
venture to the safe zone. They had no reason to do so. They were safe enough
right where they were.