Beside the doorway was the one thing that differentiated the church from all the others they had seen on their short journey. It was a tall wooden structure, nearly as high as the doors themselves. From a distance, one might mistake it for a miniature steeple, but the sign out front made it clear what this decorative feature was.
The wooden sign in front of the church was decorated with a circular graphic and the words “Lighthouse Baptist Fellowship” painted in bright yellow letters on a brown background. A picture of a sea cliff with a lighthouse shining down on a rocky shore was carved below the lettering. There was a space for the “Message of the Week” underneath, which read: “Revelations 6:8 And behold, a pale horse, and he who sat on it, his name was Death. Hades followed with him. Authority over one fourth of the earth, to kill with the sword, with famine, with death, and by the wild animals of the earth was given to him.”
“Not very original,” Jeff smirked. Megan frowned but kept looking at the modest doors of the church. There was nothing grand about the place. No stained glass, no bell to summon the congregation, no statues of Jesus. Just a tidy little building with quite a few cars crammed into its small parking lot.
Jeff resisted saying anything else or asking questions. If Megan was saying a prayer for the dearly departed or reminiscing about the good old days, he could manage to keep his mouth shut while she did. He studied the church further and saw that there were no signs of attack around the perimeter or in the parking lot. The area looked clear of bodies. Relaxing, he decided to sit and wait until Megan was ready to get rolling again.
The peaceful scene exploded less than a minute later when several gangrenous congregants burst through the doors of the church, slouching toward them. There was a sharp intake of breath to Jeff’s left as it happened. He, on the other hand, felt surprisingly calm as more and more stiff forms poured out of the building. Most wore suits and what had once been pretty dresses before their owners started to bloat, leak, and weep caustic fluids.
The first woman out the door was gussied up in her Sunday best with several silk flowers still stuck in the wispy gray hair that now floated above her skull like writhing snakes. The flowers retained some of their faux beauty, though they were smudged and smeared with caked grease. Stripes of gore mixed with the soft silken white petals, giving them a zebra-like appearance. She and those that followed limped toward the minivan over the burnt lawn of the church.
Jeff forced his eyes off the growing rabble and back toward Megan.
She was still looking toward the entrance, her eyes moist, though she wasn’t crying. He moved to block her view of the mass of corrupt forms moving toward them, but Megan didn’t even blink when he did.
When she spoke a moment later, her voice sounded far off, distant.
“We were told it would be safe here. They said we should come with them. Why did this happen? I don’t understand.”
“They were infected like everyone else.”
The bitter words caught Megan’s attention, and her eyes refocused on Jeff. She looked angry but also fractured and unsure of herself.
“God couldn’t protect them, Megan. No one could. If you had come here with them, you would have been infected too, no matter how hard you prayed.”
Jeff started to see the cold fire in Megan’s eyes that he had seen before. He wanted to shrink back, but something inside compelled him to push harder.
“God helps those who help themselves.” He jerked his head backwards, not daring to look at the onrush of bodies. “They were lambs led to the slaughter. Hell, it doesn’t even look like they barred the doors. They probably just kept on praying and thought the rapture was coming.”
Megan’s face went nuclear. “You coldhearted bastard! I had friends in there, not that you give a shit!”
Jeff returned the angry look, his peppered with frustration. “Megan, it doesn’t matter if I care! What difference would it make if I said I was sorry they were infected?” He paused, but realized he had already said too much. His face betrayed his regret for a moment and then shifted back to anger to hide his embarrassment. “I AM sorry, okay? Does that make you feel any better?”
Megan’s expression didn’t change. Jeff tried to collect himself and calm down as he heard the moans getting closer. He took a deep breath and reached out to touch her. Megan shrank away, her expression appalled.
“All I really want right now is for the two of us to stay alive. We can’t wait around for God, or anyone else for that matter, to show up and save us.” There was a hint of desperation in Jeff’s voice as he pointed behind his back. “And I really don’t want the good folks from the Baptist Fellowship to take us on home to Jesus. So can we get out of here? Now, please?”
Megan gave him another dark look, her arms crossed as Jeff waited. He looked ready to jump up and push her out of the driver’s seat. The stretch between the church and road was not that big, and many of the stumbling figures had crossed most of it already, their greedy fingers stretching out to clutch at the two survivors.
“I am sorry, Megan. I really am.” Jeff could feel a tingling in his neck where he had been nearly strangled the day before. At the same time, he was beginning to imagine an army of ghouls smashing through the window and tearing him to pieces.
Megan shook her head and took hold of the steering wheel. She stamped down on the gas pedal, and the wheels spit up gravel as they caught hold of the road. Jeff was pushed back in his seat, and his contrite expression changed to one of surprise.
“Why do you have to be such a coldhearted prick?” Megan inquired.
Jeff swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and let it blow out between his teeth before he spoke.
“I’m not trying to be. I’m just more concerned about the two human beings inside the minivan than I am about those things outside of it.”
Megan didn’t look happy with his answer.
“They’re dead, Megan.” Jeff could feel the anger peeking out again and stuffed it back down inside. He shrugged. “They’re dead, or as good as dead.” Pausing, he lifted his eyes to the roof of the van and searched for something to say. He wasn’t really sure what the infected actually were. Medical science hadn’t offered any plausible explanations when the doctors and scientists were still alive to study the virus. But he didn’t need anyone to tell him what he already knew.
“They’re dead,” he repeated as he looked over at her, his eyes sad. “They just haven’t figured it out yet.”
He saw her grip on the steering wheel loosen. Megan was blinking fast, fighting back tears of rage. Seeing that his words were making things worse, not better, Jeff felt the bile of anger boiling up from his gut once again.
“I’ve mourned enough for a lifetime already. I’ll be damned if I’m going to do it for a bunch of people I didn’t even know.” He crossed his arms and stared out the window.
“Maybe you will be damned for it.”
Jeff stiffened at Megan’s indictment. He looked at her and was unable to think of a response. He saw her emotions shift from anger to regret and then sadness. Tears began to roll freely down her face.
Jeff went back to looking out the window as he thought about what Megan had said. His desire to argue was gone, and all he felt was a cold, hard lump of remorse in the pit of his stomach.
As he watched the trees roll by, he leaned his face against the window and thought about what he had become. He had no idea who he was anymore.
Maybe I am damned…maybe we all are.
Chapter 17
They rode in silence, each trapped in private misery. Jeff tried to apologize but clammed up when Megan stiffened at the sound of his voice. So he sat, slump-shouldered, as they moved slowly down the rural road.
Large stretches of the route they took were unpopulated, and a dense canopy of trees stretched to the horizon on both sides of the road. The gaps in the woodlands were filled with modest homes set on large properties, which spread out behind them. They weren’t in farm country yet but were moving farther away from the densely populated suburbs.