The Queen of the Dead (17 page)

“We must submit to each other,” he said. “I want to be imprisoned by your arms, and I want to listen for long silences while you sleep beside me.”)

***

“…Because she lost a lot of blood. Can’t believe she survived.”

Silence.

“You did it again, Father. Fuckin’ did it again. A miracle worker.”

“Faith isn’t miraculous, Frank. Faith is real.”

“Did you see how many I hit, Father? Did you see?”

“You’re a good shot, Macon. I’m proud of you.”

“Your hand, Father…”

“Nothing that hasn’t hurt before.”

“She’s coming to.”

Wrapped in layers of blankets, Rose opened her eyes and found herself in a crowded apartment. A freckled boy of about ten with a camouflage hat and a hunting rifle sat by the window. An old man in a madras shirt rested in a wheelchair with his hands poised on the wheels. A middle-aged woman with bright green eyes and blonde, shoulder-length hair stood over her. Father Joe sat in an armchair across from her, his hands folded on his lap, a smile on his weathered face.

“Rose,” Father nodded at her, “this young man here is Macon, this is Frank, and that’s Kathy. Kathy sewed up your scratches. They got you pretty good out there, but nothing you can’t handle.”

Kathy sighed. “A miracle, luck, whatever.” She shook her head, packed up the sewing kit, and walked out.

“Always moody,” Frank grumbled, “always fuckin’ moody, that one.”

Father chuckled. “Frank swears like a sailor, but he’s a nice enough guy, once you get to know him.”

“Fuck you, Father.”

“You’re not wearing a lot of clothes,” Macon said to Rose.

“No goddamn manners, these kids,” Frank said. His lower lip trembled with each spoken word; his bony hands gestured and returned to their resting position between the armrests of his chair, fingers intertwined over his midsection. His red, rheumatic eyes focused on the blank sky outside. “Father brings a slut up here to my room, gotta wonder what gets into his goddamn head.”

Father sighed. “How do you feel, Rose?”

She couldn’t feel anything. The last few hours tumbled through her skull. Running, killing, running, killing. The rain. Thunder. Thousands of faces. Pieces of memory. The mission locked in stasis, something rendered meaningless by the moment.

“Alone,” she swallowed.

She wouldn’t feel this way if she was supposed to find anyone else but Jim. The pressure she felt in her chest arrived only when she remembered her mission, when she remembered his smirking face. 

Father Joe stared at his blood-encrusted shoes until Kathy returned.

“This is what remains,” Father said. “You’re not alone, Rose.”

“Here we go again,” Kathy rolled her eyes. “Cut the crap, Father.”

“You saw it!” Macon shouted. “He’s been out there twice! Nothing happens.”

“Zombies don’t eat pedophiles,” Frank muttered.

“I’ve had enough,” Kathy said. “I’ve had enough of your shit, Frank. I’m sick of waiting here, waiting for Father to get back, wondering if he’s still alive. We’re stuck here and he goes out and brings back a… Well, look at her. What was she doing out there looking like that? A
whore
.”

Father’s eyes moved away from Kathy as if a terrible sadness possessed him. He sat back and regarded Rose while Kathy seethed. The entire room seemed to be waiting for an implosion.

This was conflict Rose understood. This was something she knew.

“The pantries were raided,” Father said. “The elderly were slaughtered and Frank… lived, somehow. I can’t take you out there unless we get help.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Kathy asked. “What
kind
of help.”

“Take the boy and go,” Frank said. “I told you a thousand
times
, you son of a bitch—take the boy and go. Leave me here with this witch so we can rot in hell together.”

“You weren’t supposed to bring someone else back…” Kathy shook her head.

“Every life—”

“No!” Kathy stomped her foot and clenched her fists. “You… you don’t get it! We’re stuck here! They’re coming for us and we’re stuck here! What’re we supposed to do? What’re WE SUPPOSED TO DO? We’re not like you, Father. We’re not… I can’t even… oh God… God…”

“He
is
listening.” Father shrugged as if her plight was a joke.

“My parents are both sick,” Kathy brushed her finger across her runny nose. She breathed through tears which shook her. “You were supposed to find help, Father. Find a way for us—find a way to get home. You said you wouldn’t come back unless you found help. We thought you were dead. We waited and thought you were dead. Kim and Ronnie went out looking for you. They’re gone. They’re gone, I just know it… I just know it.”

Father rose from the chair and seemed ready to reach for Kathy and embrace her, but she turned from him. “Not this time,” she said. “No, Father. I can’t. You can’t bring anyone back. Not like they were before. I… I can’t…”

Frank’s bulbous, bald head shook as he pointed his crooked finger at Kathy. “Two sons I lost to Vietnam. Two sons I buried…”

“I got them,” Macon whispered, “knocked ‘em right down. Heads just blowed up.”

Kathy attempted to regain her composure. “Macon, dear, why don’t you come with me and help change Frank. We’ll get something to eat, too.”

Macon jumped down to the carpet, still holding the rifle that was almost as tall as he was. “I thought Ronnie took it all.”

“We’ll see,” her eyes shot Father a hard look. “Let Father have a moment with Mary Magdalene.”

She wheeled Frank out of the room with Macon in tow.

Father didn’t seem affected by the confrontation with his group; instead, he offered his friendly smile to Rose. “May I sit next to you?” he asked.

She moved aside and brushed her wet hair away from her face; she hadn’t looked over the stitches, which had bound several long gashes on her arms.

“You’re very brave,” Father said. “To be out there alone… there’re a lot of people left alive. They’re waiting it out. Hiding in their homes. I was turned away at gunpoint by many.”

She’d been dropped into the middle of a city with an impossible mission she wasn’t conditioned for, and her senses suffered for her. Her ability to reason had been compromised.

“We’ve all seen horror… things we cannot speak for fear of losing our hearts to pain. My own courage has wavered, but I know what I must do. I know what I have to do, for Frank, Kathy, Macon, and you. Anyone who wants to live.”

“You still have your faith, even now?”

Father chuckled. “Of course, my love for Him is absolute. If I could share His strength with you, show you His love, this… all this around you, would seem as nothing more than another challenge for the soul.”

“Have you ever thought maybe you’re the one who’s insane?”

He sank down into his chair again. He withdrew a rosary from his pocket and fingered the beads.

Kathy and Macon wheeled the Frank into the room. Kathy seemed more composed, but Rose knew the tension was high between these survivors. Kathy was disenchanted with Father; they were waiting out a storm without an end.

“How long do we wait?” Kathy asked Father.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for,” Father said. “If you decide we should all leave, I’ll go with you. There’s nothing to wait for.”

“Oh, you know, just waiting for a miracle. Maybe a light in the sky. All those
things
just to drop.”

“You want to feel safe,” Father said. “I don’t know if you’ll feel safe again. You want me to give you answers, but I don’t have them. You’re tired of my answers.”

“You have a barricade?” Rose interrupted.

Nobody answered, as if they were weighing whether or not she was worth their time, or if she could be trusted with a secret.

“Tell her,” Kathy said, “go ahead. The same bullshit you told us.”

Father smiled, though he knew Kathy wanted him to talk to show how much of a fool he was. “I’ve got a blessed crucifix over the doors in the lobby. The dead people don’t come in.”

“And now tell her why we don’t all have our own, so we can just go out there and be like you. Tell her.”

“She already knows the answer.”

“I believe!” Macon said. “The zombies can’t get me because I believe in God!”

“You see this man?” Kathy pointed to Frank. “He’s about to croak—ask him if he believes. Let’s put on a show for our guest, Father.”

“I can’t stop you from being upset—”

“You’re
supposed
to have all the answers,” Kathy turned to him, her face red with anguish. “Your little experiment with Pete and his wife didn’t work out so well, did it? They said they believed, and they didn’t get three
goddamn feet before
those things took them. And all you can do is apologize and pray. What if those were Macon’s parents? What if you take him out there with you next time?”

Kathy straightened, and Macon closed his eyes. Father was poised to jump out of his chair and go to the boy, whose parents were probably already dead.

Frank farted and licked his lips. “You done?” he asked the room.

“If God can protect you, if God’s real, then He fucking did this to us,” Kathy continued, “and just like Him, you’re a piece of shit without a plan. You wanted God to punish the world… How does that make you feel?”

“I can’t burden myself with the world’s tears,” Father said.

Kathy turned her back to them and sobbed with her hands on her hips, her head high, her body shaking from sorrow.

Rose glanced at her tactical watch.

One of the Humvees was on the move.

***

After Father Joe left, Kathy fell asleep in a chair and Frank dozed in his wheelchair.

Rose thought about going back out with Father, but he had his own reasons for leaving. Kathy and Frank chased him away with guilt, but Rose knew he would come back. He would save everyone he could, even if that meant bringing a thousand people to the nursing home—a prison for Kathy.

The inside of the building was quiet enough for Rose to hear the occasional gunshot drift through the open windows. Kathy and Frank weren’t impressed with Father’s odd ability to keep the dead at bay, but Rose respected it. He could be useful, and it was important to keep him alive. It was stupid to let him go out by himself—a tactical mistake.

Macon followed her into an empty room. He sat next to her in the dark and watched her play with the dials on the radio she salvaged from the asylum. If it occupied his mind to watch her try to call up Selfridge, then it was good for him to watch. With his rifle in his hand, he watched without making any noise.

She tried the signal and had no idea what to expect, or what to hope for. Just a voice over the other end, someone to tell her it wasn’t a waste of time, or a waste of her life.

Macon sat with his chin on his forearm, watching her play with the dials. He was a cute boy and she wondered what he’d witnessed, but soon it might not even matter.

It wasn’t every day that a pretty girl winked at him and ruffled his hair. He sat up and smiled at her. Maybe it wasn’t sinking in yet. He had his shit together, and she wasn’t about to rock the boat.

“Thanks for being such a good shot,” she said.

“You should see how good I am at
Call of Duty,
” he smiled. “I’ve got an awesome kill-ratio.”

“I bet you’re one of the best,” Rose said.

There was an emergency broadcast from the base that suggested they were overrun. The transmission repeated itself, so it was likely old. She tried another channel and asked if anyone was out there.

A voice shattered the moment.

“I knew they would send you,” Jim Traverse responded over the radio, “over.”

Rose didn’t want to keep the conversation going. No matter how many times she rehearsed it since Jim left, all the emotions and words evaded her.

She had to distance herself from her actions. It was another job, another target. “What’s your status at Selfridge, over?”

“You want me to speak, but you don’t want to hear my voice. I’m touched you remember me; they wouldn’t have sent you otherwise. Drop the pretense. Speak to me as you will. I can hear the pain in your voice, and I want it.”

A sigh shook her body.

“You already know everything I’ll say,” Rose looked at Macon when she spoke to keep her mind focused. “You know I’m coming for you, so whatever it is you can do to help all these people outside, is more important than anything we can say to each other, over.”

Jim chuckled. “I’m already here. I’m waiting for
you
, actually. What if I told you I’m doing this to see you again? What if I told you I did this to bring you to me? I never forgot my promise, over.”

“I’ll see you at Selfridge then, over and out.”