Wormwood Dawn (Episode V) (4 page)

Soon, the horde was finished, and Dan stood breathless, dropping his weapon and bending down to rest his hands on his knees.

“Fuck, dude,” Drew said, clapping him on the back. “That was some crazy shit.”

Dan cackled; his voice cracked with a touch of crazy. “Fuck those things,” he growled.

Drew grabbed his arm tightly. Dan glanced at him in question, seeing him staring off into the shadows. He looked up, not seeing anything, but hearing a low hiss echoing through the door from the dark hallway beyond. He gripped his fence post with trembling hands, feeling his heartbeat quicken in fear. Drew let go of him, reaching for his Glock, pointing it in front of him.

“What the fuck is that?” Dan whispered. Drew shook his head.

They both took a step forward, cautiously moving in the darkness, leaving the torch behind as it fizzled out. Down the hallway, the hiss grew in intensity, and was followed by the sound of scratching and scuffling. Drew raised the Glock, his face frozen in terror and his hands trembling.

Then, a spindly set of fingers curled under the top of the door jamb, digging sharp claws into the dusty stone. Another hand appeared beside it, and the two men stopped; waiting for whatever would follow. A mutated face appeared between the clawed hands; upside-down and twisted into a horrific, feral scowl. It’s large maw opened, revealing long, transparent fangs, and issuing a low, vicious hiss.

“Fuck,” Drew whispered.

The thing suddenly shot forward, racing along the ceiling with incredible speed. Dan raised the fence post, ready to chop the thing from its hanging position. Drew fired. The muffled sound of the pistol startled Dan, but he swung anyway, catching a writhing tentacle as the thing passed overhead.

He spun quickly as the creature passed behind them. It leaped from the ceiling, clasping onto the wall and growling at them as they readied themselves again.

“What the fuck?” Dan hissed.

Drew levelled the Glock and fired again, catching the creature in the collar as it charged. It screeched in pain, leaping to the other wall. Dan swung the fence post, chopping off one of its tentacles. The severed appendage fell to the floor, writhing and squirming with a life of its own. Drew stomped it, splatting it onto the stone.

The creature leaped again, this time right at Dan. He jumped to the side, swinging as he spun around, feeling the impact of the spade on the creature’s flank. It screeched and howled as it stumbled onto the floor, rolling onto its four clawed feet and charging once more. Dan pushed Drew into the wall, standing in front of him and thrusting the fence post forward with everything he had. He caught the creature in the maw, pushing it back, leaning forward to gain the upper hand.

The creature’s tentacles flailed wildly, and it growled and roared in frustration.

“Now!”
Dan shouted.

Drew levelled the gun at the creature’s head as Dan struggled with it.
“Do it!”
Dan shouted again.

Drew fired. The creature’s head exploded back, spraying black blood and brains onto the wall behind it. Dan withdrew the post, raising it above his head to deliver one final, devastating chop, splitting the foul head in two down to the sternum.

He dropped the fence post to the floor, staggering back, breathless.

“Damn,” Drew said, stepping forward and nudging the strange remains with his foot. “What the fuck is this? It looks like a little stalker.”

Dan nodded. Drew was right. It was a stalker, alright; one that was created from a child. That must have been one fucked up kid.

“Some kids are crazier than others,” he said. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

After roaming the halls once again, and finding a tiny cocoon in one of the side rooms, the two of them ended up at the top of a set of wooden stairs. Below the risers were at least a dozen rotting, half-eaten corpses. They were of various sizes; adults and children alike. Whatever had happened at this church, they didn’t want to know.

The door they faced was wooden, degraded, and dry-rotted. Even so, the lock was secure on the other side. There was no picking it, or bashing it. They would have to find another way through. Fortunately, the wooden planks that made up the door itself were in no condition to withstand the intentions of a couple of sociopaths.

Dan turned to the side, feeling for weak spots in the planks. With a grunt, he shouldered against it as hard as he could, hearing the wood splinter with his weight. He grinned.

“Help me bash this fucker down,” he said.

Drew stepped up, standing beside him. On the count of three, they bashed together. The door cracked under their weight, and buckled in the center.

“Again,” Dan said.

They bashed it again, this time splitting one of the boards down the middle.

“It’s working,” Drew said. “Keep going.”

They bashed again, and this time Drew fell halfway through. “Sonofabitch,” he whispered with a painful strain. He pushed his way back through, grasping his side and gritting his teeth. “That fuckin’ hurt.”

“You alright?”

Drew nodded, kicking at the two cracked boards around the hole he had just made. Dan helped, and a minute later, they had a nice-sized opening. Dan crawled through first, looking around at the darkened hallway. Ahead, he could see the chapel. It was lit by the moonlight that shined through the gaps in the boarded windows. The stained glass that was on the inside cast weird, creepy-colored beams, accentuated by the thick dust that hung in the air.

“It smells like shit,” he said as he helped Drew through.

Drew sniffed, scowling. “Shit and… pancakes.”

Dan scowled for a second, shook his head, and continued forward. There were open doors on either side of the short hallway; one each. The rooms were typical office space, decorated with desks, fake plants, and inspirational photos—including
Footprints in the Sand.
Thankfully, there were no signs of life, or unlife.

The chapel itself was lined with sixteen pews, eight to a side. A podium stood at the head, with a large cross hanging on the wall behind it. There, kneeling in front of the cross, was a shadowy figure, emaciated and filthy; dressed in rags and clutching a tattered Bible. Dan and Drew approached from either side, each of them gripping their weapons in preparation. The figure was still, other than the subtle movement of breathing.

He seemed to be mumbling to himself.

“Hello?” Dan said softly.

The figure raised its head, turning in his direction. It was a man, sickly and haunted. He was gaunt and pale, looking almost like a corpse himself. He was unshaven and disheveled. His hair—what was left of it—was short and graying. His dark eyes studied Dan for a moment, then he lowered his head toward the floor. Dan could hear him weeping.

“Welcome,” the man said in an uncharacteristically deep voice. “I trust you have met the children.”

Dan shot Drew a look, nodding quietly. “We did,” he said. “Are you the pastor?”

The man stood, and Dan could clearly see his clothing. He wore jeans, and a black shirt with a priestly collar. “I am,” he said. “Or… I was, before this happened.”

Dan leaned his weapon against the nearby table, urging Drew to do the same thing.

“Who are the people here in this town?” Dan asked. “And why are you here in this church?”

“This is my church,” the pastor said. “And those people are… or
were
… my flock.”

“They threw us in the cellar,” Dan said. “Probably with the assumption that we would be eaten alive.”

The pastor pursed his lips, looking up at Dan with those sad eyes. “They have lost their way,” he said. “I don’t know who they are anymore. I don’t know
anything
anymore.”

“What happened to the children?” Drew asked.

The pastor turned to him. “The same thing that happened to everyone,” he said. “They got infected.”

“Why weren’t they killed?” Dan asked.

The pastor shook his head. “They should have been,” he said. “But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. They’re children, after all.”

Dan sighed, staring up at the cross. “Not anymore,” he said. “You know that.”

The pastor nodded, and Dan could hear him swallow hard. He turned toward the pews, and motioned for them to relax. “Please, sit down,” he said. “This is a house of the Lord. All are welcome here.”

Dan looked at Drew, who shrugged. “I don’t think we would be welcome here,” he said.

“Sit,” the pastor repeated. “As I said,
all
are welcome here.”

Dan shrugged, reluctantly sitting at the front pew. Drew sat beside him, and the pastor sat down in front of the podium, gripping his Bible in shaking hands.

“The men outside,” Dan began, “they took our weapons and locked us in here. We need to get out and get our shi—stuff before they take everything.”

“It’s pointless,” the pastor said. “It’s all pointless now.”

“Nothing is pointless,” Drew said. “It’s all just survival now.”

The pastor looked up at him. “The world is gone,” he said. “We have all been left behind. The tribulations have begun, and this is but the first.”

“The first?” Dan repeated.

The pastor nodded. “The comet… the
star
. It was named Wormwood for a reason. A third of mankind was killed as it passed by, and the rest of us have fallen in large numbers. Either we die trying to survive, or have become something other than human.”

“It’s gone now,” Dan said.

The pastor shook his head. “No,” he said. “It will return for the second tribulation. It will fall from the sky, carrying with it the key to the Abyss. When that happens, the locusts—the dead—will overrun the Earth. Men will seek death, but will not find it.”

“The Earth is already overrun with the dead,” Drew said.

“
No!”
the pastor shouted, standing up menacingly. “They are
not
dead. Billions of people died in the first day.
Those
are the dead. What we see roaming the Earth now are the two hundred million horsemen. The dead have yet to rise. But they will.”

What the hell was this guy talking about? Surely all of the shufflers, shamblers, and other crazy shit he’d seen so far were at least
like
the dead. But if what this insane bastard was saying was true, then everything they had gone through was just a glimpse.

“Dead people won’t rise from the grave,” Dan said. “They’re dead. The virus, or whatever the hell it is, killed them.”

“You haven’t been paying attention,” the pastor said. “If you’ve seen them, then you know that they have not decomposed as much as they should have in the time that has passed.”

“I suppose not,” Dan said, looking to Drew, who seemed to agree. “But it’s cold.”

“Even in the cold, flesh decomposes,” the pastor reminded him. “And the animals—the scavengers—should have eaten them all by now. But they haven’t, have they?”

Dan stared at him, speechless. He was right. Though a few of the dead he had seen showed some chew marks, the only ones that seem to have been eaten to any major degree had been consumed by the shamblers. He didn’t remember ever seeing any scavenging animals chewing on their flesh.

“You know I’m right,” the pastor said.

Dan nodded half-heartedly. “Yeah, but there are other things. What about the other mutants; the people and animals that have changed.”

The pastor shook his head. “They are all dying,” he said. “They weren’t meant to survive. They were only meant to destroy for a short time.”

Dan remembered the dead stalker-thing they saw before. “Right,” he whispered.

“We are in the last days,” the pastor said. “The human race will fall, and the Earth will belong to Satan.”

Dan wanted to remind him that this was not exactly what scripture said, but decided against it. What was happening was a worldwide plague; something probably natural, but not of this world. This guy was just seeing parallels with scripture where none really existed.

“Listen,” Dan said. “We need to get out of here. If you help us escape, we’ll take you with us.”

Drew’s eyes widened a bit, he saw. But he remained silent.

“I can’t leave,” the pastor said.

“Yes you can,” Dan whispered. “You can come with us, and we’ll help you survive. We’ve survived this long.”

“So have I,” the pastor said. “I’ve been eating scraps, canned foods, everything I can find. That’s the way it will be until I finally starve, or until the Lord sees fit to call me home.”

Dan sighed. It was probably pointless trying to talk the pastor into leaving. He wouldn’t be of much use anyway. The guy probably couldn’t—or wouldn’t—shoot, likely had no survival skills, and was a little crazy. But, he was human. Maybe a little humanization would work.

“My name is Dan,” he said finally. “This is Drew.”

The pastor looked at each of them in turn, his face remaining expressionless. He lowered his head, clasping his hands in front of him. “My name is Andy,” he said. “My friends call me Pastor Andy.”

“Well, Pastor Andy,” Dan said. “Come with us. We need your help to find our Hummer. We have lots of guns and ammo, beer, and other shit. Do you like beer?”

Andy laughed quietly. “I used to,” he said. “Before I devoted my life to God.”

“How about wine?” Drew said. “We have wine, too. Lots of wine.”

“I have to stay,” Andy said again. “These people have lost their way. Maybe I can save them before it’s too late.”

Dan nodded, looking at Drew, who seemed relieved. “The leader said they would take our Hummer to the garage. Can you tell me where that is?”

Andy nodded, standing up and moving toward the front of the chapel. He bent down, flipping the corner of a rug over, revealing a small trap door. “This part of the building is a new edition,” he said. “It’s just a crawlspace underneath. There are a few panels in the front of the building that are loose. You can get out that way. Once you’re out, head down the alley you see to the right. When you hit 1
st
street, turn left, and then go about a block. The garage is on the right. You can’t miss it.”

He opened the trap door, revealing the dark space beneath. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The spiders won’t bother you. Watch out for the rats, though.”

Dan dropped down into the hole, peering into the darkness. There was very little light coming in from the outside; only the faint glow of the moon that had risen while they were wasting time with Father Nutjob. Drew dropped down beside him, and Dan looked up into Andy’s saddened face.

“Thanks, man,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will,” Andy replied. “And remember, even though all these monsters were once human, they aren’t anymore. Don’t feel guilty about killing them. Even the harmless ones are dangerous in their own way. Kill them all. The Earth must be cleansed before our Savior returns.”

Dan pursed his lips, nodding. “Thanks.”

Andy closed the trap door behind them, leaving them in the darkness. Ahead, the loose panel was obvious; slightly crooked with moonlight streaming through on two sides. They headed directly toward it, stumbling blindly through the dank crawlspace.

“Man,” Drew whispered. “Was that guy nutso or what?”