Judgment (8 page)

              I moved steadily and with great purpose this morning as I weaved through the junkyards of cars that used to be busy streets. All the colors of the cars appeared faded now, each holding a heavy coating of dust. Every vehicle seemed to be a dull gray with a slight tint of color seeping through from underneath. Many had footprints from cats and birds and other animals across their hoods and windshields, each disturbance in the dust revealing the more vivid color beneath.

              The smell of rotting trash along the curbs was growing worse. Rats by the hundreds had been tearing open trash bags, and garbage was scattered everywhere. I made a conscious effort to not step on any of it so as not to be carrying the stench of it with me on my boots,

              I had to travel a little further today than I normally would be willing to go, especially alone. Obviously the less chance of being seen by a Judge or a maledicted, the better, but today I had to make this trip. Today I would go to the cemetery where my wife had lain for the last year. Every Saturday I went there and spoke to that piece of ground, and every Saturday there was never an answer back; just the silence of death and eternal slumber. Today I feared there would be an answer.

              I continued winding my way through the streets, trying to stay in the shadows, seeking cover whenever I could. I dodged maledicted and ducked inside whenever I spotted a Judge. I lost track of the time as I continued making my way north, back towards home. All of my sensations were focused around the anxiety that was building inside of me as I got closer and closer to the cemetery.

              Suddenly I heard a voice call my name from behind. I turned quickly to see Margie hurriedly approaching me. I thought she would bitch at me, insist that I come back with her, but instead I got compassion and companionship; someone else to be strong for just a little while. “Jennifer told me,” she began. “I knew you’d be headed this way.” She smiled at me, and then walked right past me. “C’mon. You coming or what?”

              I hesitated for a moment, smiling, mostly on the inside. I quickly caught up to her, and thanked her as I matched her quick pace stride for stride. “After this, you’re coming with me to Staten Island to find my brother,” was her only answer.

              “It’s a deal.”

              We moved quicker now, Margie inspiring new urgency in my pace. While still cautious and always looking around for danger, Margie followed the theory that the quicker we got this over with and got back, the safer we would be. “Lingering around staring at shit will just get you killed,” she told me.

              We were getting really close now, the streets becoming more familiar. The Manhattan skyline was looming large in the background again. More than once we had to take a detour to avoid both maledicted and several Judges that had passed by all too close, but always and steadily we drew closer to the grave site.

              I felt the knots in my stomach again when I saw the tall iron fence that surrounded the cemetery. It was a large open area, and Margie and I spent a long while across the street in the doorway of a building waiting to make sure everything was clear. I think a good fifteen minutes went by while we waited, watched, and talked.

              “Are you sure you want to do this?” Margie asked me more than once.

              “I have to. I just have to.”

              “I understand. It looks clear. There’s no maledicted that I can see, and I haven’t seen any Judges since those couple a few blocks back.”

              “Yeah. Let’s go.”

              I felt my anxiety growing, my heart pounding in my chest as we crossed the street and walked through the gates of the cemetery entrance. Several crows that had been perched on the fence took flight, the sound of common wings now having a whole new unnerving effect on us.

              Now with the field of graves looming before me, I had a brief moment of doubt, that maybe I shouldn’t do this.

              No, I had to.

              For the last year of my life, I visited her grave every weekend, where I would leave flowers and water them with tears. Every Saturday I prayed upon that little plot of dirt for God to undo it all, to make the accident have never happened. All I ever wanted was my wife back, and I would have given anything to have it; anything to actually hear her voice again. Now I was terrified that through six feet of dirt and a rotted wooden box, that’s exactly what I would get. But I had to go. I had to know. I had to know if she had woken up, like all the rest, lost and confused, struggling to move decomposed limbs. In my heart I already knew, but yet I had to go, had to see for myself.

              The world began to fade around me as I tunnel-visioned on that familiar gravestone. Margie stayed slightly back, keeping watch for Judges. As we crossed the cemetery grounds we paused for a moment to listen. All around us the ground thumped faintly; like distant drums, hundreds, all out of rhythm. Six feet below us, the dead were pounding on the insides of their coffins. It was a horrifying moment, as below our feet the remains of the dead had returned to life. And among them, I knew would be my wife.

              Several yards further I stood before her grave, the flowers I had placed there just last Saturday now covered with the ashes of the judged. I tried to fight the rush of emotion, the surge of tears, but I could not. After a year of praying for her life to return, now as I knelt down and put my ear to the ground, I prayed that she was still dead.

              I begged to God that I wouldn’t hear anything, but I did. Faint, muffled, but closer than the rest, I could hear the sounds of thumping and scratching. I pressed my ear into the dirt as hard as I could, covering my other ear with my hand. Through grass and stone and dirt, I could hear the faint sound of crying through raspy gasps of stale air sucked into rotting lungs. Still, I recognized the voice.

              Please God. No.

              Oh please God.

              No.

              My heart stopped and my tears began to seep into the soil that separated us. My mind raced with insane thoughts. What if I dug her up? Would she remember me? Would she know me anymore? I fought the urge to tear at the ground, to pull her out, to hold her. I felt like screaming, yelling into the dirt. Would she hear me? Perhaps it would only torment her. Make it worse.

              In a final torturous moment before I stood, I heard it. Faint, garbled, broken, but unmistakable. She screamed my name.

              “A..d..a..m!”

              My hands clenched into fists on the ground, scraping up grass and soil into my fingernails. I couldn’t breathe. The pain, the sorrow, the suffering; it all became unbearable, crushing me under their weight. I bit my lip until it bled, fighting the urge to scream down to her.

              I felt Margie’s hand on my back. She kept it there, and spoke to me as I wept uncontrollably. “It’s not her anymore Adam. She’s still gone. This is…something else. You have to let it go.”

I lay there for several moments longer, watering the soil with sorrow. “What kind of a god does this?”

              Margie shifted next to me, staring out across the cemetery. “I don’t know Adam. I just don’t know.”

              “What do I do?”

              “There’s nothing you can do. She’s still dead Adam; for a year now. She’s not your wife anymore. Her brain, her mind, they’re gone.”

              But she called my name.

              “I know this is bad Adam. I’m really sorry. But you just have to let it go.”

              Consumed by the moment I lost all sense of time or what was happening around me. Eventually Margie stood and spoke again. “Adam, we have to go. I saw Judges over there a minute ago. We’re out in the wide open here. We have to go now.”

              Lifting myself to my knees, I wiped the tears and snot and dirt from my face. I said not a word as I stood. The hardest moment of my life had always been when I had placed her in the ground. Now as I rose to my feet, I had a new most painful moment, as I walked away and left her there, lost and alone in the cold dark earth.

Chapter 6

A Leap Of Faithlessness

"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I

flee from your presence?”

~ Psalm 139:7

              Central Park was contrastingly beautiful this morning against the dystopian horror that surrounded its green boundaries. The dust was lost in the grass, and in the morning sun colorful flowers seemed to be stirring awake, stretching their petals towards the light as if engaged in a morning stretch.

              It was oddly quiet, the sounds of death and horror of the city streets somehow blocked out by the trees whose branches swayed gently in the morning breeze. There were no screams, no car horns, nor any sounds of death. The only sounds I could hear were the leaves rustling in the wind and birds in the trees calling out to each other, unaffected by the biblical apocalypse. It was somehow all disarming, comforting, and I felt no fear and more relaxed than I had felt in weeks.

              It was somewhat surreal, but I embraced it like someone welcomes water after a walk in the desert. I wasn’t sure what made me venture out alone this morning, violating our pact to use the buddy system. We all lived by the rule to never go anywhere without a wingman.

              I’ll hurry back soon. I just want to enjoy this for a few moments.

              I walked the paths of the park for a long while. At one point I found a cat under one of the bridges, but I had no food to offer it. Kneeling down and gesturing with my hand near the ground, the cat ran right over to me without hesitation. It looked remarkably just like a cat I had as a child, the same markings on its fur, right down to a uniquely shaped white patch on its left hip. It purred energetically and rubbed itself against my leg as if it knew me well and hadn’t seen me in a while. It plopped to the ground and rolled onto its side, playfully pawing at my hand. I played with it for a few moments, until it caught sight of a butterfly and took off in chase. I watched it for several more minutes, running and frolicking, chasing bugs, and I became lost in this temporary oasis, forgetting about the nightmare going on just outside the park.

              Further up the pathway, I could see a pond up ahead. There was a bench there under a large tree, facing the water, and someone was sitting there. I approached closer, trying to figure out if it was a survivor or a maledicted. I looked around and scanned the area, but saw no one else around anywhere in the park.

              I slowly moved towards the bench, but took a wide circular arc around, so once the person saw me there would still be some distance between us, just in case. As I came to where we could see each other, I could see it was just a man, not looking maledicted, but just a survivor. A moment later I recognized him, and stood stunned as he spoke to me.

              “Adam. Come and sit with me.”

              At first I just froze with disbelief. My father, dead for years, sat on the bench before me casually looking out over the lake. He smiled at me; looking exactly like he had twenty years ago when a heart attack took him from me. I think he was even wearing the same clothes that I last saw him in. With his hand he patted the bench seat next to him, signaling me to sit.

              I don’t understand this.

              I sat down on the bench, the gap between life and death that had separated us for decades now reduced to a space of about six inches. “I don’t understand dad. What’s going on? How is this happening?”

              He looked at me, and I instantly felt that comfort and protection that a young child feels when in the presence of a parent; something I hadn’t felt now for the last half of my life. He spoke, his words cryptic yet somehow comforting.

              “You’re going to be okay Adam.”

              “I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do? How am I going to survive?”

              He turned his head and looked out over the lake. The large tree above us swayed in the wind, and several leaves slowly spiraled to the ground. He spoke again without looking at me, transfixed on several ducks that were swimming near the edge of the pond. “Life is beautiful, and we ruined it.”

              Those words echoed around in my head for several seconds. A tear began to form in his eye, and I watched it as it slowly trickled down onto his cheek. He turned to me again and repeated his words. “Life is beautiful, and we ruined it. But you’re going to be okay Adam.”

              “What do you mean? I don’t know what to do. Where do we go?  When is this going to end?”

              We just stared at each other for a few moments. Like all children, I was waiting for instruction, for magical words that would make everything better. Parents always knew how to handle every situation. Suddenly the expression on his face began to change. He spoke more sternly, a sense of urgency growing in his voice.

              “Adam… you have to go now.”

              “What? But I don’t want to leave you.”

              I noticed his appearance beginning to change. Slowly his skin turned an ashen grey, deep wrinkles forming upon his face.

“Adam…go. You have to go now.”

              No, I can’t

              The more he tried to make me leave, the more he changed. Parts of his skin began to fall off of his face, one of his eyes began to roll up into his head, and I started to notice the smell; that familiar smell of rot, of death. As he spoke his jaw seemed to dislodge out of place. His voice began to crack and gurgle. “Adam…you have to go now.”

              Before my eyes he was transforming into a maledicted, and for the first time since I entered the park I felt fear again. Suddenly he lunged at me and grabbed me by the shoulders. He shook me forcefully, and screamed into my face with horrible rotting breath.

“Adam! You have to go!”

              Suddenly I felt myself forcefully thrust from dreaming sleep into waking reality. I awoke so violently it was painful. Margie was shaking me, yelling into my face. “Come on Adam. We have to go! Now!” For a brief moment I couldn’t tell what was real and what was a dream; the daze of sleep slow to clear from my head.

              “Whats going on?”

              “Judges!” she said frantically. “Downstairs. They got through the door. They’re coming up the stairs. We have to go.”

              Across the room Steve was shoving supplies into a backpack. “C’mon man. Let’s get the hell out of here!”

              As usual we quickly grabbed whatever we could, shoving what little we had into our packs, always prioritizing our weapons. Useless against the Judges, they were all we had to defend ourselves from the hordes of maledicted that seem to be growing in number every week.

              I was the first out through the apartment door, quickly looking around for the Judges. The actual hall outside the apartments was small, just a little area built around a staircase that wound down all the way to the first floor. I could hear the angels moving around somewhere below us. I leaned out and looked over the railing, and several floors down I could see the wings of angels moving up the stairs. Before I pulled back, I saw one of them look up and we made eye contact. The hair stood up on the back of my neck as they suddenly quickened their pace up the stairs.

              Shit. Shit. Shit.

              “Back. Back inside,” I yelled as I began shoving everyone back through the apartment door. “They know where we are. They’re coming fast.”

              Jennifer was frantically looking around the apartment. “Where are we going to hide?”

              “We’re not,” I answered as I threw the dead bolt on the door. “We’re going down the fire escape.”

              Margie was already opening the window. She motioned to Steve to go, and Jennifer quickly followed him out into the sunlight. Margie and I both looked towards the door as we heard the knob turning. I saw the hinges begin to strain and buckle as the door was being pushed inward.  I urged Margie through the window. “Go. Go!”

              Steve and Jennifer were already two floors down. I heard the apartment door splinter as Margie and I hit the next landing. The fire escape was narrow, and Margie’s backpack kept getting caught on it as she tried to descend. Down at the second floor level Steve began cursing.

              “Motherfucker. It’s locked. The goddamn ladder is locked.”

              The ladder to make the final steps down into the alley was pulled up to prevent unwanted people from getting into the building, and it was chained and padlocked. “They’re not supposed to be locked. How would anyone get out in a damn fire?” Steve was pulling angrily on the lock. “Margie, give me the hatchet.”

              “No wait! It’s going to be too loud. You probably can’t break it anyway.” I told him.

              Jennifer was examining the fencing that enclosed the landing we were on. “We can’t even jump down. Where are we going to go?”

              Margie and I both looked up, then at each other. She nodded knowingly. “We’re going back up. Maybe to the roof,” I told them.

              “Fuck,” muttered Steve, looking down and shaking his head.

I went up first, quickly to start, but then slowing as I neared our own apartment window again. I could hear the movement inside, the Judges searching for us. I turned and motioned for the others to wait. Slowly I climbed onto our landing, and hiding up against the wall next to the window I peered into the room. I could see two angels roaming around, and hear another in one of the bedrooms. I turned to Jennifer with my finger over my lips, and without a word pointed upwards and urged her forward. Quietly she crept past me and the window, starting up the ladder to the next floor. Steve followed next, and then Margie. One of the window curtains blew out towards me suddenly, touching my face. It startled me and I made a sudden noisy gasp. Margie turned to look down towards me, and as she did the hatchet hanging on her hip caught and clanged against the railing. The combination of both sounds made one of the Judges turn quickly towards the window. He saw me on the landing and immediately began moving towards us.

              “Go go go!” I yelled up to Margie, and we all began a rapid hasty ascent up the fire escape.

              I had initially thought about entering an apartment on another floor, but now it seemed we would just race to the roof and figure it out from there. I could hear Steve gasping for air, his asthma kicking in as he climbed several more floors. We were going to have to find him some inhalers, and soon.

              If we make it out of here.

              “Wait before you get to the top,” I heard Margie caution Jennifer, and I saw her pause at the last landing just before the fire escape let out onto roof. “There could be more up there.”

              Just near the top I saw Steve peering over the edge, scanning the roof. “It’s clear. There’s no one up here.” He turned to Margie as if seeking her agreement before he went up. I passed Margie, and moving up beside Steve I took a look for myself. He was right, the roof looked clear. Just past some air conditioners and other mechanical equipment, I could see the doorway that led back into the building below. Not being able to fit out through the window to the fire escape, I knew the angels would be coming through that door any minute looking for us. Scanning around I saw nothing else on the roof but some trash and what looked like an old clothes line attached to an abandoned pigeon coop.

              Looking completely across to the next building over, I could see its roof just one story higher than ours. On the edge of that building two Judges perched, looking down into the street. They were just squatting there at the edge of the roof, like two vultures waiting for road kill. There was no way we could cross the roof without them seeing us, but we couldn’t stay here. Any minute the Judges from inside would come through that roof door and we would be trapped on the fire escape.

              I motioned to Margie and pointed to the angels on the other rooftop. She saw them and said nothing. She just stood there on the landing, looking around and biting her lip. The panic was building in all of us. We were living like mice in a house full of cats. I knew there would be another fire escape on the other side of the building. If we could get to it, even if we couldn’t get all the way down to the ground, perhaps we could get into another apartment and sneak to the stairwell inside the building and get down to the street before the angels caught on. We would have to try; there was nowhere else to go.