The 1000 Souls (Book 2): Generation Apocalypse (17 page)

Elliot finished this litany of profanity with a devilish wave, his hands rising as if he were a ripper with claws, ready to pounce. The kids broke into laughter and scattered to run screaming in circles around the common room, except for one small girl, Mia, who fell out of the crowd, weeping, curling in the fetal position to bawl.

Tevy pick her up and sat in a cracked La-Z-Boy, cradling her on his lap. He remembered when her parents died on a raid, how the other families in their blockhouse brought her to the church, saying they had no food to spare for orphans. Tevy had rocked her many times in that same chair then, too. It had been two years ago, and she had just turned four.

“Make him stop,” she said. “The bishop says saying those words is like calling Vlad to send rippers up from hell.”

Tevy almost said, “Dude,” in accusation to Elliot, but he caught himself just in time.

“It’s hard, isn’t it,” said Elliot with a grin.

“But why that word? It’s totally harmless.”

Elliot sat on a stool next to the La-Z-Boy. “Little ears might not want to hear.” He nodded down at Mia. The other children had settled down from the screaming and gathered around and the questions started to fly.

“Did you kill any rippers, Tev?”

“I heard you flew a plane.”

“Why do they live up there? Are they sinners?”

“How many rippers did you kill?”

“Did any get close? Did you see anyone die?”

Tevy gave Mia a hug and he whispered in her ear, “I’ll never let the rippers anywhere near you. I swear I’ll keep you safe.”

He was about to respond to the questions when Helen’s voice called over the hubbub. “Let the man speak!”

The kids parted way for her, and she arrived smelling of stale tobacco and looking smaller and more bent than even two weeks ago. Tevy deposited Mia on Elliot’s lap and gave Helen a warm hug.

“Good boy,” she said as if he were still ten. “You brought yourself back and you brought my friends, too. Very good work.”

“But did you kill any rippers, Tev?” persisted one boy’s voice from the back of the crowd.

“Yes. I killed eight for certain, maybe more.”

The room erupted in cheers, and some of the younger ones again started running in circles screaming.

“That’s quite enough!” shouted Helen, her arms out like Moses preparing to part the waves. “Time to wash up for dinner.”

It took the help of several of the teenage children to quiet the younger ones, but when they were all upstairs and outside to use the latrines, Tevy sat with Amanda and Elliot and several other teenage members of the Brat Pack in the common room to get caught up. Elliot passed around a flask of strong hooch.

“It’s all about the traitors,” Elliot said. “They caught a bunch of them on a scouting patrol one day over in the west end and they were all ‘dude’ this and ‘yo’ that. It’s how they talk in California I guess.”

Tevy shook his head to clear it from the fumes of the hooch. “But that’s how we talk.”

“Sort of, but different. There was more of it and more slang that I didn’t even know.” Elliot took his hooch flask back from Amanda. “Anyway, the bishop added those words to the list. I think it’s really because if we don’t use them and the traitors do, they’ll be easier to catch. Just have to listen to them to know they’re traitors and not Loyalists. That’s what we’re supposed to call ourselves now, Loyalists to humanity and God.”

Helen hurried back into the common room and stormed right up to Elliot, snatching the metal flask from his hand. “Jesus boy. Don’t be passing around Emile’s hooch so late in the afternoon. You should be saving this for dawn.” She took a long drink and passed the flask back to him. “You,” she pointed a finger at Tevy. “I hope your head is still clear, because Bobs and the bishop want to see you right away.”

Tevy left his pack of dirty laundry on the floor and headed for the staircase with Helen, who despite her age was able to climb at a careful pace. Tevy matched her slow progress so they could chat.

“It’s not just me that’s glad you’re back, boy,” she said when she paused for breath at the landing. “A lot of the younger kids have ears, and the rumors are frightening. They took you being gone as a bad sign, because you’re their fighting hero, their protector. The one who stands between them and the rippers.”

Tevy felt the weight of being one of the oldest members of the Brat Pack. There had been few orphans older than him in the last days of Vlad, because any teenagers simply joined a blockhouse. There had been a few eleven- and twelve-year olds, but some died while scrounging for food, making the mistake of going into a basement without the backup of someone like Elliot or Amanda. Others married into a blockhouse by sixteen as a way of getting out of the confined dorms of the church basement, some even being forced out by the bishop if a new influx of orphans required space.

Tevy had been allowed to stay because he was Bobs’ scout, but that could only last so long. He and Elliot had been conspiring with some of the other teens to start their own blockhouse, but the only way the bishop would allow them to share it with the girls would be if marriages took place. That meant choosing a mate. Courting and competition was complicated in the confines of the dorms.

Helen renewed her assault on the stairs, shoving away Tevy’s hand when he reached out to take her arm. “I’m not dead yet.” But her smile proved that she wasn’t angry. “You need to watch out for yourself. If you died it would strike terror into the hearts of some of the little ones. Knowing you’re out their killing rippers makes them feel safe.”

Tevy knew she was right and it pricked a nerve. “Believe me, I want to live, too.”

They reached the top of the stairs and Helen caught his arm, not for support, but to get his attention. “Then don’t always charge straight at the rippers when you see them.” She poked a finger at his forehead. “Think.” She looked into his eyes to see if her point had sunk in, but she shook her head. “You’re so like him. It’s freaky.”

“Like who?” But Helen pushed through the heavy wooden door into the church.

The late afternoon sun streamed through the upper stained glass windows, the lower ones having been bricked up during the days of Vlad the Scourge. Tevy thought he noted a few new bullet holes high up, which could only mean that rippers were sending a message of intimidation and invitation, since those shots couldn’t have hit people. They were meant to lure out a patrol to ambush.

Tevy looked above the windows and struggled to remember the blue and gold ceiling of the church, so intricate and so brilliant the first night he was here, when the church was packed with refugees. A gray film of soot from years of candles now coated the ceiling, dulling the colors and the paintings, although the sacred heart with the sword through it, Tevy’s favorite, was still clearly visible.

Helen genuflected in front of the altar, and Tevy did as well, crossing himself automatically as he rose, but a gesture of Helen’s reminded him that he had nearly forgotten the new motion he was supposed to do after crossing himself: the Sign of the Mountain. Touch three fingers to one’s left shoulder, forehead, and right shoulder. This was the bishop’s decree last fall on the seventh anniversary of the Battle of the Mountain, that everyone should thank God for the victory over the anti-Christ, Vlad.

They crossed the altar and passed the tabernacle, genuflecting again, on their way into the rectory, heading up for the bishops’ council chamber, but they never reached their destination. Shouts stopped them in the paneled corridor, dulled at first by the deep carpet until a door halfway along opened and Joyce burst out of a room closely followed by Jeff and Kayla.

Bobs’ voice chased her. “You can’t just turn those buses around and leave.”

She rushed out of the room, her hair cropped even shorter and a large revolver strapped to her hip. It suddenly occurred to Tevy that Kayla and Bobs were close in age, and he had to rethink what he thought about both women. Did this make Kayla seem older or Bobs seem younger?

Joyce turned in fury. “Just watch me. I didn’t come down here to stay anyway. We came down to fight just for the summer season because that little shit convinced me it was the right thing to do.” She was now extending a finger to point her accusation at Tevy. “Before winter me and my Raiders will be going back to St. John’s come hell or high water, but while we’re here we fight together and we live together or we’re on the way right now.”

Jeff stepped between the two women before Bobs could retort, his FN slung over his shoulder, his camouflage vest open in the Chicago heat.

“Listen, Bobs,” he said. “There’s plenty of houses we can convert to a blockhouse for the raiders. The rest of the St. John’s people, the immigrants, they’re going to want to mingle anyway. A lot of them are looking for wives, so you can billet them wherever you want. But the Raiders, we’ve fought together and lived together since the end. You don’t split us up.”

Bobs put her hands on her hips and turned her attention on Jeff. “You won’t have time to do that before sunset, so where do you suggest I put you?”

The bishop, in a simple black cassock, strode out of the conference room and stopped in the middle of the corridor. “They can sleep in the church tonight, of course. That way they’ll all be together.”

Bobs looked ready to fight, but the bishop shook his head in a way that Tevy recognized: no argument. She shrugged instead. “Whatever. Thanks for coming out.”

Joyce and Jeff left without further word, and Helen hurried after them. Kayla followed them too, but Joyce stopped her, whispering something in her ear and looking back at Tevy before she turned away. Kayla looked after her, tapping her foot a few times before she made up her mind and walked in Tevy’s direction, clearly wanting to talk to him, perhaps about his liar comment, but before she could, Bobs turned her attention on him.

“Good work,” she said. “I want to hear all about it. Everything. But right now I need you to load up and go out fast before sunset.”

Bad news and worse. He glanced at Kayla, wishing she weren’t hanging so close. Somehow he didn’t want to tell Bobs that Bertrand Allan was undead and a ripper with Kayla listening. He debated pushing for a private meeting, but he knew that look in Bobs’ eyes: she was in a big hurry and had no time for him.

The worse news was that he had hoped for an evening with the older Brat Pack kids, but after days on and off a bus, perhaps a chance to move and maybe have some adventure would be a good thing. “Where am I going?”

“The Erics.” Bobs glared at Bishop Alvarez, and Tevy interpreted the look as warning to the cleric that on this point she would accept no argument.

The bishop heaved a sigh and crossed his arms in judgment. “I don’t like aligning ourselves with these heretics.”

“I don’t have a fucking choice, and I’m sure as hell not going to talk about it now. This is tactical. This is my decision.” She turned back to Tevy. “I want you to head over to the Erics. Don’t worry, I told them by radio that you’d be coming, so they won’t shoot from their walls if you get there after dark. Your job is to do the same thing you did at St. John’s: convince Mabruke that it’s in his best interest to join us.”

Tevy fought to keep the amazement off his face. “They’ll never convert to Catholicism. They’re heretics.”

“This isn’t about converting anymore.” She shot a withering look at Bishop Alvarez, who sighed again and turned his back to swish off to his study at the end of the corridor. Bobs turned back to Tevy. “Like I said, they don’t have to frigging convert, but when the offensive comes, we’ve all gotta be working as one army. The rippers will be, believe me.”

“Should I set up a meeting between you and Mabruke?”

“I’m not going over there and he’s not coming over here, so no.” Bobs crossed her arms under her small breasts. “You haven’t been back long enough to hear the rumors, I guess. Tevy, the rippers could be coming tonight. There’s been a lot of movement down there, and some bastard traitors have been raiding up north of the Loop yesterday and today, grabbing people and taking them as sacrifices back to the rippers. I don’t have time now, but you need to move hard and fast before sunset to the Wright Sanctuary and get Mabruke onside and handing out the ammo to his people. By midnight.”

“What if he won’t listen to me?”

“Just be yourself, Tevy.” She leaned in close, dropping her voice to make it difficult for Kayla to hear. “You’re my secret weapon. You remind people of the man who saved my life.”

Tevy knew not to ask who that was, because while they had learned in Sunday School in detail about all the other heroes of the Battle of the Mountain, Bobs had kept her own history out of the lesson plan.

“Okay. I’m on it,” he said.

Bobs nodded. “I knew you would be. Don’t travel alone this time though. Take a couple of the Brat Pack with you. You pick ’em, but only the fast ones, the ones who can run or ride. Emile’s got word to give you all the ammo you want.” She held up one finger. “Don’t let me down.”

“I never do.”

The carpeting of the corridor didn’t hide the hurried footfalls behind Tevy. Kayla spoke before he could ask why she was following him.

“I want to go with you,” she said as she drew alongside, matching his hurried pace.

Tevy looked over to see if she was kidding. With her vest open to reveal her sweat-stained tank-top, she looked younger, closer to his age. Could he really be so attracted to an older woman, one in her mid-twenties?

“Why the hell?” He led the way into the church, stopping to genuflect at the tabernacle, an action she mimicked in a hurried fashion. She got the Sign of the Mountain backwards, and her attempts to fix the gesture made it look more like a circle.

“Because I’ve just spent a week on a bus and I need to get out,” Kayla said, continuing to chase him as he rose and hurried off the altar.

There was something else, some other reason. Tevy couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was sure she hadn’t told him the whole truth. And she looked very excited, ecstatic. Maybe she had a thing for him? Maybe she wanted to be around him. But Tevy quashed that hope by remembering Joyce whispering in Kayla’s ear. And there was that lie about the girl, Margaret. Whose daughter was that really?