Don't Fear The Reaper (32 page)

‘Can’t you come, Natalie?’

Natalie was in too much shock to cry. Her mouth was parched and her
tongue had attached itself to the roof of her mouth. ‘I can’t,’ she croaked.

‘Why? Why can’t we all stay here?’ Sapphire pulled his head away from her
bosom and gazed at her, red-faced.

‘You’re so special that you must leave with Anthony,’ she said, realising
she didn’t understand her own statement.

‘You’re special too,’ Sapphire said. ‘So you can come too… and Smokey and
Sue and everyone. If the bad people come then we’ll all be safe, won’t we?’

Natalie actually concurred with the young boy to a certain degree, but as
is everything in life, it was much more complicated. ‘The bad people will find
us again. I and the others must stay here and persuade them to leave you be. If
we can’t do that then we must tell a fib and say you’ve gone in the opposite
direction so you will be safe.’

Sapphire shook his head and bunched his hands into tiny fists. ‘But if
they’re after me and no one else, I could go with them and then everyone else
will be safe.’

Natalie was taken aback by the self-sacrifice the young boy would be
willing to take. ‘You can’t,’ she said, once she found her frail voice. ‘They’d
do harm to you and hurt you. We – I – won’t allow that. But one day when you’re
old enough and big and strong you can go to them and help people like me all
around the world. You’ll save us from those bad people and abolish the dark for
the light.’

‘What does ‘bolish’ mean?’

‘Take away forever.’

Sapphire grew quiet. His body slackened in her grip. Natalie feared he’d
become comatose. Then he said in a choked voice, ‘I’m not gonna see you again,
am I?’

His words of unequivocal truth were wasp stings piercing her heart.

‘You might if you get away fast and we persuade the bad people you went
in the other direction.’

The troubled boy shook his head. ‘No I won’t.’

Natalie couldn’t say any more, even though she wanted to try to convince
him otherwise. She pulled him close and hugged him fiercely, memorising every
intricate feature and texture.

Perkins appeared in the doorway. His expression was grim and melancholic.
He met Natalie’s gaze across the room. ‘It’s time…’

*

Perkins
decided not to loiter and put on a farewell ceremony, for everyone’s sake. They
had to get going. Also, now that they were ready for departure, Sapphire had
begun his wailing again, louder this time. Jonesy had to pick him up and carry
him to the van. Sapphire kicked, punched and thrashed about in hysterics. He
struck Jonesy in the face a few times unintentionally. Jonesy retaliated by
kissing the boy and holding him close, loving him for who he was and reacting
the way he did in the name of love.

‘I want Smokey! I WANT SMOKEY!’

Jonesy wept, remembering his cries when his mum sold his dog for booze
money. ‘Yeah, I know, good boy. I know.’

Perkins got behind the wheel, leaned over and opened the passenger door.
Jonesy pulled it open all the way and hoisted Sapphire onto the seat. Tears
coursed down his quivering cheeks into his stubble. ‘Apart from Anthony, you’re
my best friend,’ he said, crying fully now.

‘Then why are you getting rid of me?’ Sapphire hissed back.

‘’Cause I love you and don’t wanna see you suffer.’ With that he gently
ran his hand over Sapphire’s tear-stricken face. ‘I love you, buddy. Take care,
okay?’

Then when Perkins strapped the boy in Jonesy slammed the door and turned
away. Sue and Jane who watched also crying went to the rugged man.

Sue remembered what Perkins said when they first met Jonesy in the
shooting range at the rear of the gun store.
He’s a lump of sugar once you
get to know him.
The comment she assumed was made merely to comfort her in
his acquaintance’s presence had been the most apt analogy ever. Here was this
gun-wielding, cussing man who drank booze as though it were water and spat
phlegm out a window, farted and belched. Yet beneath all that selfish façade
there was a tender soul who seemed to transform from selfish redneck to a
selfless hero.

From behind the windscreen the four humans and meowing cat watched as Perkins
struggled to keep his emotions locked up and started the motor. Then the young
reverend raised his head, put the transit into reverse and nodded goodbye. His
mouth was set. He couldn’t face them otherwise he’d lose the strength and
courage to do what had to be done.

The ones left behind watched with hearts breaking as the transit made a
U-Turn and rolled down the gradient to the front gates. It came to a halt.
Brake lights shone. Then the van rolled onto the highway and accelerated out of
sight.

Smokey cried out. Then the ash-black cat’s head sank.

Pain wasn’t a big enough word, Jonesy thought, to describe what they were
all feeling at that moment. Not a big enough word by a long shot.

*

Without
further ado, Jonesy scooped Smokey up and hurried back to the vicarage.
Perplexed and curious the three tear-stricken women followed. When Jonesy got
into the kitchen he opened a sachet of wet food and poured biscuits into a
separate dish. Then he added a saucer of clean drinking water. He stroked
Smokey over and over, smoothing down his fur coat. Smokey didn’t purr as he
usually did. He knew something was awry. However, he ate his food and lapped up
the water.

‘What’re we gonna do?’ Jane shrieked.

‘I’m going to the bunker to get some of my guns,’ Jonesy said,
matter-of-factly. ‘I want you four to stay down there. Lock the doors. If all
goes well, I’ll come to the bunker and knock three times. When you hear this –
not once or twice, but three times – you approach the lock door. I’ll be able
to hear your footsteps on my side of the door on the steps. I’ll speak to you.
Then you’ll know it’s me and not some kinda trick.’

‘What if it doesn’t go to plan?’ Sue asked.

‘Don’t be a hero – or heroin. Stay where you are. It’s unlikely they’ll
find the bunker, but if they do and you know it isn’t me for sure, use those
concrete lintels we used for asteroids and prop them against the doors and head
for the other exit.’

‘Don’t you think it’d be best if we were topside with you?’ Natalie said.
‘The more of us working together the better.’

‘The more of us together facing those demons, the more of us likely to
get hurt.’

The three women understood with full clarity then the seriousness of their
situation. With Perkins and Sapphire gone this felt less like a dream or vision
and more tangible by the second.

‘What about Smokey?’ Natalie asked.

Smokey raised his head from the bowl, regarding her at the mention of his
name.

‘Take him with you. Take some food and water. There are some guns and
ammo down there. You know the basics. If – or when – they come, only then take
the safety off. The .45s, .38s and revolvers are al loaded. There’s a
double-barrel shotgun with six shells in the cartridge too. Don’t touch them
till you need to; that’s when accidents occur. Stay quiet. Whatever you hear up
here, take no notice. And I mean anything. You hear me for whatever reason and
give away your position just to save me, I’ll be really fuckin’ pissed off with
you.’

‘Why’d you have to stay up here when Anthony and Sapphire are at this
moment driving hell-bent away from here and we’ve gotta hide in the bunker?’
Natalie wanted to know.

‘Someone’s gotta stay here to try and convince these fuckers that no one
else is here. If they ask that, I’ll just say there was still some food left in
the fridge and disagreed with leaving and decided to stay.’

The women concurred that did sound rather plausible.

‘Also, I’ll tell them as the vicarage and church are still standing I
didn’t want to risk not having a safe place with a roof over my head.’

Once Smokey finished his meal, the three women carried some fruit and
bread they’d grown and made themselves. Jonesy brought up the rear. He walked
backwards, scanning the cemetery, wielding his rifle.

When they arrived at the rear of the church and unlocked the door,
Natalie flicked the torchlight on. Jonesy propped the rifle against the stone
wall and patted Jane on the back. When she entered the underground chamber and
disappeared down the narrow pathway he repeated the cordial gesture to Sue who
turned to him then. ‘Whatever happens – or doesn’t happen – I just wanted you
to know it’s been a pleasure getting to know you in the short time we’ve been
in each other’s company.’

Touched by her kind words, Jonesy extended his hand. ‘Whatever happens,
Sue, thank you for coming to my gun store when you did. I never got to tell Perkins
this, so I’ll tell you: you saved me. Resurrected me. I’ll always be in your
debt.’

Sue shook her head. ‘Not any more. And it was our pleasure bringing you
here with us…’ She gazed at him longingly. Then she said, ‘It’s the lump of
sugar in you that gives you your incredible strength to endure.’

Then she was gone.

Natalie kissed Jonesy on the cheek before he knew what had happened.
‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Remember, Natalie. Three knocks. Three hard knocks. Approach the door.
Be wary that it might be a trick and wait till you hear my voice.’

‘I will.’

‘Use those concrete lintels as well,’ Jonesy reminded her.

‘See you soon, huh?’

Jonesy smiled. ‘I hope…’

JONESY WAITED
on the stone steps, listening to Natalie lock the door and then prop the
lintels against it for reinforcement. Only then did he turn away and go down
the path towards the vicarage.

His heart had broken along with everyone else’s during the sudden
departure. However, rage was the emotion that had taken full dominance now – rage
at what the sinister beings planned as they neared this sanctuary that had
belonged to his dear friends for so long during the aftermath.

He returned to the vicarage only to gather his Remington shotgun and
Glock. Then he waited with guns loaded, watching the desolate highway.

Jonesy had no idea how much time passed when he heard the sound of
hundreds of loud horsepower motorcycle engines getting louder still as they
grew nearer.

Grabbing his rifle, Jonesy leapt down off the doorstep and onto the
gravel path. He sprinted to the asphalt parking area approximately ten feet
higher than the road level. Getting into a comfortable position on his stomach,
Jonesy stared down the sight of the gun, released the safety catch and rested
his index finger on the trigger. Then he focused on keeping his breathing rate
stable and controlled the quakes assailing his anatomy.

When the leading bike came into view, Jonesy flinched. He cussed under
his breath and watched the rippling, fluxing faces of shapes the size of men
change from humans to shiny metallic skulls. He shook away his perturbed
emotions and refocused.

The first shot bucked his shoulder, and for a moment Jonesy thought he’d
missed. However, in the near distance, he saw the whatever-he-was jolt back by
an invisible blow and topple backwards off the motorcycle. The creature hit the
tarmac head first and rolled over before being rendered motionless.

The other demons hit the brakes. Tyres screeched. Blue engine smoke
curled upwards. And the road was lined with rubber skid-marks.

Jonesy watched from his camouflaged position in the tall grass as the
confusion of what had transpired hit home for the demons. The other two spun
their bikes around and rode to where their comrade had unexpectedly fallen.

Seizing the opportunity to strike them when their backs were turned,
Jonesy stared down the sights and fired another shot. This one smacked one of
the two demons, who’d dismounted and had been standing, off his feet. He flew
two feet in the air before striking the road face-first with an audible slap.

Fixed with unbreakable concentration, Jonesy shifted the sights to the
last demon standing. The demon whirled around and faced the direction of the
gunshot but couldn’t see anything. Jonesy squeezed the trigger and watched with
jubilation as the bullet struck the demon in the chest. The demon flew back,
bashing his head against the unforgiving road surface.

The first demon he’d shot stirred and rolled onto its hands and knees.
Jonesy fired again and guffawed as the bullet punctured the demon’s black jeans
right into its arse. He covered his mouth, laughing hard at the cry of pain as
the demon clutched its butt cheek.

‘Take that you fuckers,’ he murmured.

Perkins and Sapph would’ve liked that one, I bet.    

Yet as he continued to stare down the sights’, Jonesy frowned with
puzzlement. All three demons struggled. However, all three got to a vertical
base. Yet far more peculiar than that feat was the fact that not a drop of
blood had spilled form any of them.

Jonesy squeezed the trigger again… and gasped.

The demon he’d shot in the back and who turned in his direction, snapped
his hand up and apparently caught the bullet splitting the air intent on
bursting a hole in his chest.

An icy shiver caused an involuntary shudder. Jonesy clambered up and
sprinted for the vicarage to reload and to get his head around the amazing
reflexes of his enemies.

He got to the front doorstep, shouldered the door open and slammed it
shut behind him. His chest rose and fell far too rapidly. All the years of
heavy smoking and daily binge drinking, living off cooked frozen foods and not
much variety hadn’t done his jackhammer heart any good. He suddenly realised
how unprepared he was for this kind of physical stress.

You didn’t really think they’d let you live once they were through
with you, did you?
he asked himself   

The answer was, of course, a resounding,
No!

*

Jonesy
sprinted around to the rear of the vicarage, through the kitchen and living
room and into the master bedroom. It took two attempts to reload the rifle as
his hands and the rest of him were assailed by the shakes. The bedroom window
offered the front yard and a sidelong view of the cemetery. Jonesy thought that
his friend must have been a little spooked by this view, especially on a winter
evening.

He opened the window ajar, wide enough to accommodate the business end of
the rifle. Then Jonesy did his utmost to placate himself in preparation. His
face burned from an inferno within. It hadn’t merely been the fact that he’d
been rushing about to and fro. There was more to it. Adrenaline coursed through
him – a buzz of electricity. A trickle of cold sweat ran down his back. In the
next moment all those physical affects fell into the background.

The three followers of this Reaper manifestation came into Jonesy’s line
of sight. His whole body flexed taut. Eyes protruded. The gun shop proprietor’s
index finger did a tap-dance on the trigger.

‘Steady,’ he whispered to himself. ‘Don’t rush this.’

Reiterating those words of solid advice in his mind, Jonesy stared down
the sight and focused on the three figures approaching, scanning the front yard
and the cemetery grounds.

The yew tree cast spindly shadows in the dusk. Jonesy had to squint to be
able to tell the difference between shadow and figure. He opened his mouth to
exhale. The breath was deafening in the silence.

Words were exchanged between the three, but Jonesy couldn’t make out
anything. It might have helped; it might not. Instead he took this opportunity
to take a closer look at what he was up against. He frowned. On appearance in
the dim light, they were three adult men, no different from anyone else he’d
seen in the old world.

As they neared the white picket fencing, Jonesy could see the bullet
holes in their clothes, but no spillage.

Must be wearing protective clothing
, he thought.
Makes sense,
much more than the alternative anyway
.

Confident that this was the case, Jonesy took aim at the one nearest,
steadied himself, and with studious care aimed and fired.

The still dusk air exploded with a thunderous crack of gunfire. The left
side of the closest figure’s head burst, spraying bone and brain on the tall
grass and path. The puppeteer that had been holding him upright must have been
distracted as he’d dropped the figure in a heap. The other two exclaimed in
shock and fear. This time the figure hit the deck as though its soul had
already departed for good.

Jonesy punched the air and smiled. This time he knew he’d done some
serious if not fatal damage. Under normal circumstances, the notion of shooting
at someone never mind trying to kill them wouldn’t even cross his mind. That
type of behaviour wasn’t in his nature or DNA. He loathed the drunks that
staggered home in the early hours of the morning on the weekends, smashing
wing-mirrors off the cars they passed and kicking bins over. Nevertheless, this
wasn’t so much about the joy of killing another living creature, this was about
survival. Which he found somewhat amusing, considering he never really cared
about dying before in regards to himself. However, now he’d been left to
protect his best friend’s cat and three lady friends, surviving meant more to
him than anything else.

He took aim at the figure standing over the one he’d shot and his comrade
who was kneeling down, checking for a pulse. Jonesy fired and the bullet
punctured the figure in the throat, sending him reeling backwards into the
foliage and stinging nettles behind him.

Apparently, the three followers of Death knew the destination, but what
they hadn’t anticipated was Jonesy taking cover and firing at them when they
least expected it.

The one kneeling darted into the foliage for cover. Jonesy fired into the
direction he’d fled. If it didn’t maim or kill, with a bit of luck it would
send him – or it – running away.

This is a perfect sentry position
, he thought, grinning widely.
The dimness of dusk kept him camouflaged and the opening the three figures had walked
into, emerging from the yew tree and thick foliage and led them straight into
his line of fire.

With diligent patience and endeavour, he’d ended the life of one figure,
sent another clutching his fatal wound to a probable death, and had another one
most likely on the run. Still he waited, on the off-chance that they somehow
defied the physical laws and rose again. Although, Jonesy was quite certain
that his assiduous attack had worked very well.

He took this time of inactivity to reload again and to make sure the
shotgun and handguns were still on the bed well within reach in case he
happened to need them.

One aspect of the whole situation did perturb him though, was how
relatively easy it had been. When he’d listened intently to Jane’s harrowing
vision he remembered his testicles shrivelling from an unnatural cold. They
discussed the pending situation as though facing a second Armageddon. And yet
now that it had happened, Jonesy couldn’t help but think that the task had been
achieved sooner rather than later with no hassle.

Not really. You shit yourself when you saw them getting up the first
time. You ran back here as if your balls were on fire. It was only easier than
you thought ’cause your mind can come up with all kinda fucked up shit. But you
prepared well and hid well, and they didn’t see it comin’, that’s all
.     

His conscience was right. It would have been easier had they stayed down
the first time. The only reason he got them a second time was due to the fact
he’d found another good hiding place facing the only part of the cemetery the
three figures would emerge from. When he thought about it in those terms it all
made perfect sense.

Suddenly a change in the ambience tickled the nape of his neck. Jonesy’s
mouth dried up in an instant. He sensed a presence close by and looked over his
shoulder. He recoiled in a second, crashing into the bedside cabinet and
knocking the battery alarm clock and gooseneck lampshade. They thudded on the
carpet. Jonesy dropped the rifle and blindly grabbed for the .38, but the
figure that had disappeared out of his peripheral vision flew over the mattress
and seized him by the throat.         

Jonesy felt his feet come off the carpet and his back slamming against
the wall above the headrest. He thrashed about maniacally, similar to how
Sapphire had done. The figure before him glowered at him with blazing red eyes.
The only physical aspect apart from having four limbs and the exact same
posture as that of a man was his thick brown hair. Atop the metallic visage that
rippled like a disturbed lake the mane of hair looked as though it could have
been a wig.

The tidal wave of blood rushing and crashing in waves inside his pounding
head threatened to burst geyser-like from Jonesy’s facial orifices. Enduring
this and the needle-grip tightening around his neck, literally choking the life
right out of him made stars dance in his retinas. Regardless of all this,
Jonesy managed to lift the hand gripping the .38 and fired two rapid shots into
the figure’s abdomen.

Whatever it was released his hold and clutched the entry wounds wearing a
wide-eyed expression. Jonesy, gasping for breath, double-over, tried to fight
the dizziness off so he could finish off this intruder once and for all.
However, the figure slammed a left-handed haymaker crashing into his face.
Jonesy hit the mattress and bounced. An explosion had detonated from the
confines of his face. He clutched his broken nose and watched with blurry
vision as blood poured onto the pillows.

He was seized again by his hooded sweater and watched the room
summersault before his spine walloped the carpet flooring. It was only then,
staring up at the ceiling, momentarily paralysed, that he realised the full
ramifications of his actions. He’d been thrown like a rag doll arse over head
to the other side of the room. Before he had even considered moving, he was
seized by his hair and sent reeling backwards. The wall knocked him forwards
again. The iron fist knocked him back.

This is what it must feel like to be a pinball,
he thought.      

The figure bared its shiny metal teeth that ran all the way to where its
earlobes would have been. It drove a knee into Jonesy’s gut, doubling him over.
Then it slammed the palm of its hand into Jonesy’s forehead knocking him back
and upright again. It tore the .38 from his grasp, which amazingly still hung
onto and fired a shot at his right kneecap.

Jonesy cried out and collapsed on his side awkwardly. His face contorted
in impossible agony. Blood seeped through his fingers. Veins had surfaced and
ran along the side of his head as though they were the trajectory lines of
motorways and Dual-Carriageways on a road map.

‘Where are they?’ the figure hissed, spit flying from its maw.

Jonesy either didn’t hear him as he was still grimacing or ignored him.

‘Where are they!?’ the figure bellowed.

‘Who?’

‘Don’t play games with me.’

Jonesy shook his head. ‘I’m not.’

The question was asked for a third time.

Jonesy: ‘Who?’

The figure thought about inflicting more pain, although if it did it
might render Jonesy unconscious. ‘You know who.’

‘If I did I wouldn’t be asking,’ Jonesy said through gritted teeth.