Sanctuary (15 page)

Oh Lord it is a body!
Jennie’s mind screamed, and a squeal escaped her.

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. She tried not to look down again. Jennie needed to step over a bloated body, and she thought she’d vomit. She held her breath, glad she still carried her brother in her arms. He buried his head in her shoulder.

As she stepped over the body, she heard a moan. A wailer. She quickened her pace. Jennie felt Mickey’s head pop up as he looked at the body over her shoulder.

Her voice shook as she tried to keep it light, “No worries, mate. Keep your head down. We won’t be late.”

Mickey put his head down and whimpered.

When they reached the other side of the ditch, she put him down so his feet were on the angle of the orange concrete wall. She turned him facing the church, so he wouldn’t stare at the body behind them.

“You’ll have to crawl up on your own, okay?”

“What about these?” Mickey’s hands still cradled the four cans of food in his jacket.

Jennie didn’t know what to do. Her jacket pockets were full. She felt the corner of the picture frame from the outside of her jacket and knew there was no room. They needed the cans.

“Give them to me.”

Jennie tried out for softball in high school. She sucked. She couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a softball. But she took the four cans and held them in the crook of her left arm. She tossed one up, trying to get it over the side. Immediately it came rolling back down. She sidestepped to her right to keep it from landing in the muck and picked it back up.

“Come on. You can do better than that.” Mickey turned to encourage her.

Jennie was concentrating too hard to rhyme, “No, don’t turn—look straight ahead.”

She tried again. This time it landed in the grass and rolled away. She took the second one and threw it too high, causing it to go almost straight up. The can hit the side of the wall and slid back down to her caterwaul, dented in the part she would need to open.

Her forehead dripped sweat in spite of the brisk wind. This was taking too much time. She needed to concentrate on her throw. She tossed the dented can again and had it roll off toward the church, just like the first. The third can barely made it over the edge, and she threw the final can, relieved to see it land just over the lip as well.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Mickey crawled on all fours directly in front of her. Jennie felt like they were in a 60’s Batman and Robin skit. Climbing the slanted wall was easier than sliding down had been. The rough surface between the smooth round stones gave them plenty of traction.

As they reached the top, the aliens were just making it through the shallow area. The pack split up. The leader ran down the ditch area along the bottom, while the other three ran toward them.

“We have to hurry.” She yanked Mickey to his feet.

“Ow,” he complained, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Sorry,” she offered, sincerely. “Hurry up and go. I’ll get the cans.”

He started toward the church while she bent down to gather up the four cans of food. They were spread about, but she dove for them one at a time and snatched them up.

Not much time passed before she followed Mickey. She chanced a glance and saw their pursuers were not far away. She ran toward the door of the church yelling at the top of her lungs.

“Help! Is anybody in there? The aliens are coming! Someone please open the door!”

Mickey made it to the first step, and Jennie followed several feet behind when she saw her dad come around the corner of the church and head for her brother. Because of the rumbling from the Shisa, she hadn’t heard his wailing until now.

How did he know to come here? Did the infected wailers have some sort of memory function? If he did, how could he attack her brother now?

Her father had the bloody bare patches on his head where he had been pulling out his own hair, a tell-tale symptom of infection. Red and swollen, his face hardly looked like her father’s any more. Drool frothed on the sides of his mouth, and his bloodshot eyes no longer looked grey.

“No!” Jennie’s scream distracted her father and made him hesitate on the way to her brother. She gripped one of the cans tightly in her right hand, and without a second thought, she threw it.

It hit her father squarely in the forehead with a sickening crunch. He fell backwards, his knees folding in an odd fashion. Her mouth dropped open in shock. How did she not miss?

She gripped another can so tightly that the tips of her fingers felt numb. She silently prayed her thanks and asked that she wouldn’t need to attempt another throw. Her father didn’t move.

She sidestepped past her father. Her brother stood, wailing and bawling on the church step when the big door of the church creaked open. To Jennie’s relief, Mrs. Crawford stepped out and picked up her brother. She tried to soothe him and gestured toward Jennie.

“Hurry. Hurry, the Shisa are still coming.”

She had forgotten them. Jennie turned and saw them starting around the corner of the church. She ran up the steps and into the door. Mrs. Crawford shut it behind her and replaced the latches.

Jennie could hear them snarling and growling near the body of her father. Instead of relief, grief and guilt struck her.

“Did I just kill my father?” She looked up at Mrs. Crawford with tear-filled eyes and choked down a sob.

“No, honey, he was dead already. Your daddy’s in heaven now. Don’t let what happened today worry you none.” She took Jennie’s whimpering brother and walked toward the group huddled at the front pew.

Jennie nodded, keeping her back to the door. Sinking down to the floor, she hugged her knees and listened to the rumble outside. Jennie took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and prayed.

Once her eyes adjusted t
o
the darkened interior of the church, Jennie took in the small crowd gathered at the front of the sanctuary. The rumbling of the Shisa outside subsided and drifted away to the steady hum that had become easily ignored over the past few days. A wailing had risen again, and she could only assume that her father had somehow survived the mishap with the can of hominy. Survived? Would that be the right word?

Jennie stood and dusted herself off. She felt a bit dizzy and held the back of a dark wood pew. The small church smelled of lemon-scented furniture polish, old books, and dust. The light let in by the high frosted windows had been dimmed by the cloud cover outside. A bright flash lit up the room, causing everyone to jump a little. When it was followed by a frightening rumble that shook the room, it took a moment for Jennie to calm down and console herself that it was only thunder.

“Hey, I’m glad to see you’re all right.” A gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

She looked into the man’s brown eyes and had a vague moment of déjà vu. With a hard blink, she tried to determine where she’d seen him before but couldn’t. She nodded, and the man rubbed a hand through his short curly hair. It made her look harder. Was he scratching?

The man’s unshaven face gave him a rough exterior. He wore a white t-shirt and grey oversized sweatpants and a pair of white high-top Converse sneakers. She stared for a moment at his shoes. They seemed both odd and old; they were tied at the foot so the sides of the tops flopped over like dog ears. The rain began to beat upon the roof in such a manner that the man had to raise his voice to continue. “I’m Hugh. I saw you trying to get away from those three blind infected people earlier. I came to help. It surprised me that I got here first.”

Jennie looked at him and shook her head slightly, not knowing what he meant. Her mind was so focused on the alien attack and the situation with her father, she’d forgotten about the three wailers that had followed her before she made it to the grocery store. She looked up into his kind eyes, and he gave her a wide smile. She remembered. He’d stood in the glass front doors of the tower when she passed. She’d locked gazes with him just like this for only a moment, but there was something else.

“Thanks for trying. We stopped to get my brother something to eat at the grocery store.” She remembered the cans she’d let drop to the floor and bent to retrieve them. When she had the three cans in her arms, she looked at him with a half-smile and said, “We don’t even have a can-opener.”

The man chuckled with a short snort and took the cans from her. “I’m sure they’ve got something in the back,” and he started to head that way.

Jennie glanced over to her brother and the Crawfords. There were two other men sitting to the side of the sanctuary and four women beside Mrs. Crawford. Two children clung to one of the women. It seemed they were both older than Mickey, but their wide eyes showed an innocent terror that betrayed their age. Somehow, her feet continued to follow after the strangely familiar man.

When they reached the utilitarian kitchen, his Converse sneakers squeaked on the beige linoleum tiles. He picked up a plate and passed it to her. “These are really good, by the way. Do you want one?”

She stared at the chocolate chip cookies and wanted to cry. Why on earth did she feel like she needed to go to the grocery store when there was food already here? Could she have avoided the aliens and her dad if she’d come straight away? She knew the reason. She couldn’t stand the thought of being a burden to anyone and didn’t like the idea of mooching what didn’t belong to her. She was already burdening herself on the Crawfords with her presence. How could she keep taking and taking without giving anything in return? A lump swelled in her throat again. Without a word, she left the kitchen and headed back to her brother with the plate. The cookies weren’t warm, yet they made her mouth water anyway.

“Hey, kiddo, want a cookie?”

Mickey’s bright blue eyes were wide and still glistened as the lights in the sanctuary came on. “Cookies?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said. Golden-brown chocolate chip cookies lay on the light green plate.

Her brother took one gingerly and met her eyes with an unspoken question. When she nodded, he took two. Jennie snagged one for herself and took a bite. Together they smiled and chewed. It amazed her that something so simple could temporarily relieve the horror she’d experienced with her little brother.

Brad

Brad watched the young gir
l
and her brother sharing the cookies with a strange fascination. Who was this girl, and what was she to Hugh? Over her shoulder, Brad’s brother stood with his hands in his pockets and a strange smirk on his unshaven face. What was with the sweats anyway? The whole situation just seemed weird.

He didn’t quite expect the welcome he’d received from his brother. His cheek was still a bit swollen from the punch that greeted him, and he was sure his swollen eye would soon turn black and blue. For now, Brad decided to keep his place in the shadows and watch the strange situation he had entered into. Why hadn’t he tried to go home? He shook his head. There was nothing there for him. No food, no people, nothing. What was he going to do—bunker down alone and starve?

When this fool pastor and his wife offered to let him stay with them until they made it to the military base, he decided he’d have been an idiot not to leech off them until he could find something better. How on earth had his brother shown up? It irked Brad that Hugh somehow managed to get in his way every time.

The girl looked up and started around the room with the cookie plate, like a waitress. She approached the woman with the clingy kids first. As she approached him, she smiled wide and leaned the plate toward him. “Cookie?” she asked in the same way she’d offered to the others. Gold-brown hair fell in a soft wavy frame around her round face, and her green-grey eyes betrayed her smile with sadness.

Brad grinned and accepted one of the brown treasures from the plate. “Thanks, Gorgeous.” He couldn’t help himself. It was almost a natural inclination to flirt with the girl who drew his brother’s interest. She flushed immediately, and her smile fell as she pulled her eyes away and blinked hard. She was cute when she was embarrassed.

He smiled wide and lifted his gaze to meet his brother’s fuming one. Yeah. Just as it should be. He bit into the cookie.

Jennie

Jennie blushed and withdrew fro
m
the man with the black eye forming. Did that hot guy just called her gorgeous? What a flirt. He probably said it to all the girls. The thought of it made her flush with both embarrassment and a little anger. Better to push those thoughts from her mind and go on with life. She took the cookie plate over to the next person and offered it. “Cookie?”

“Thanks, but there aren’t any?” The woman, who was only a few years older than Jennie’s mom, looked at her with arched eyebrows.

Jennie looked at the plate and grew even more embarrassed. She hadn’t noticed the plate had been emptied. “Sorry,” she said and backed toward the kitchen again.

A little annoyed with herself, she set the plate on the counter with a huff. When she turned back around, the guy in the sweats stood in the doorway. Her emotions were fluctuating wildly, and she couldn’t stand it. She really needed to get things out in the open and deal with them. She was going to start with this guy. “Who are you, and how do I know you?”

He winced at her sudden question. “Uh. I’m Hugh Harris. I’d say you look vaguely familiar, too. Maybe you went to Warwick High?”

She nodded, beginning to piece things together, and looked into his brown eyes. It dawned on her suddenly. She could see past the unshaven face and sweats and imagine the man he would normally have been. “Mr. Harris.”

He smiled. “The same.”

Although she’d taken physics with Mr. Morris instead, she remembered seeing the biology teacher regularly in the hallways. In fact, one of her good friends from school, Terra, had a huge crush on him their senior year.
Hot Mr. Harris.
She blushed at the thought and looked away.

The rain began again with renewed fervor. Because of the attic space above the kitchen, the noise was muted, unlike in the sanctuary itself. The lights flickered.

"So, is that your little brother?” he asked, stepping out of the doorway into the kitchen. He stood on the other side of the island from her.

Jennie nodded. Suddenly, she felt a little awkward, like she was privy to a teacher’s private life. He just didn’t quite look himself, and she didn’t feel right seeing him like this. Also, his proximity made her uncomfortable. She may have graduated over a year ago, but it seemed inappropriate to her that he showed such an interest. How old was he anyway? He must have been pushing thirty, right?

“Hey! There you are.” The hot guy with the black eye stepped in the kitchen behind Mr. Harris.

Mr. Harris’ posture stiffened, and he turned around quickly. He gave the new guy a dirty look and marched out of the kitchen.

Although this one had an unshaven look also, he didn’t quite have the scruffiness about him. He was younger and seemed less affected. With a shrug, the new guy set a well-muscled arm on the counter in the same place where Mr. Harris had stood a moment before. Jennie let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and relaxed her shoulders. “What was that about?” she asked.

His grin grew wide and exposed a dimple on his right cheek. “The guy's got issues. What can I say?”

The charismatic smile was infectious, and Jennie felt instantly comfortable around him. “Do you two know each other?”

“Yeah. He’s my brother.” He grew more serious. “I really didn’t expect to see him here. Bad blood, you know. He stole my girlfriend, and when I confronted him about it, he gave me this.” He pointed at his cheek and swollen eye.

“Really?” Jennie shook her head in disbelief, although the evidence was plain on his face. Mr. Harris was turning out to be nothing like she’d thought of him from high school. She wondered if Terra would still have a crush on him knowing his home life.

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal that my brother’s a jerk.”

Jennie laughed awkwardly.

He noticed and smiled again. “But, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this private junk. Sorry about that. I’m Brad, by the way.” He held out a hand across the counter top.

She put hers in his and said, “Jennie.”

His rough palm wrapped around hers, and he gave a gentle squeeze. “There. Strangers no more.”

Hugh

Seriously? Of all the smal
l
buildings in the world, Hugh had to run into his brother in this one? Ugh.

Even though Hugh was over Clarissa and their relationship had been on the rocks for months, it still stung that his little brother had been the straw that broke them up. When he looked into his brother’s wide grin and dimpled cheeks, he couldn’t help but want to deck him. Hugh’s knuckles still ached from giving into his emotional drive. He regretted it only a little when he looked at his brother’s black and blue cheek. But only a little.

Jennie Ransom. How did he remember her last name? He only remembered her vaguely as a friend to one of his students the year before last. Somehow, she looked less like the little girl with her nose in a book and a bit more like a woman in the last year and a half. He snickered a little at how he thought she was much older when he saw her through the doors of the tower. There was something about her that seemed so fragile when she’d first come into the church. He only wanted to help her and keep her from harm. If only he could keep her from his brother. That one was harm in a pair of tight jeans.

Speaking of the devil…Brad came out of the kitchen with Jennie. She seemed happier and lighter, as she stepped out with Brad’s hand at the small of her back. When Jennie’s eyes met his, he saw a sudden coldness there he hadn’t seen before, but she looked away before he could form an opinion. He blinked hard. Hugh’s heart fell a little.

Maybe she was better off with Brad. Maybe Clarissa had been, too. He suddenly remembered her random text message on the first day of the attacks. Checking his pockets, he realized his Blackberry was probably dead or on the charger at his apartment. He narrowed his eyes at Brad’s back and wondered if his brother knew where Clarissa might be.