Thicker than Blood (10 page)

I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Whereas
Lawrence had appeared easygoing, always had a smile on his face,
was well spoken, and moved in a way that wasn’t at all threatening,
he’d actually been the very opposite.

People, I’d come to learn, were rarely
congruent to the face they put on. Lawrence certainly hadn’t been,
and Alex wasn’t either. Evelyn, however, Evelyn was always herself.
The one person I could always count on for honesty, the one person
I could always trust. She was my constant, my rock, my heart, and I
loved her for that.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I
whispered tearfully. “I don’t blame you for taking care of
yourself. You didn’t owe me anything.”

“But I did—I do,” he said, his jaw clenched
tight, his eyes flashing fire.

I watched him internally battle his anger,
and yet I was strangely not afraid of him. It was the smiles that
now worried me, the gentle touches and the softly spoken words that
turned into something much more horrifying. Thanks to
Lawrence
—who had been at
his most calm and his happiest when hurting me—Alex’s sharper, much
harsher demeanor was almost comforting.

“I owe you my humanity, Leisel. Or what the
hell is the point? What are we trying to survive for?”

I opened my mouth, an instinctual response
when someone asks you a question, only to realize I didn’t have a
ready answer, and more tears fell. Through blurry eyes I saw Alex’s
hand rise, and for the first time in three years, I didn’t flinch
at the sight of it. But before it could reach me, his hand suddenly
stilled a hairbreadth away from my cheek, and hovered for a moment
before falling away.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, all the anger
now drained from his expression.

I didn’t want to repeat myself, to tell him
again that he had nothing to be sorry for, not after he’d confessed
what appeared to be something that had been weighing so heavily on
his mind for some time now. To do so would be to dismiss his pain,
and I knew better than anyone what that felt like. Never would I
wish the same on another person, to ignore the wounds they carried
within them.

“Nothing,” Evelyn announced, and we turned to
her, finding her expression crestfallen. Kicking at some debris in
her path, she made her way toward us. “Not a single thing.”

The three of us stood there for a moment, not
looking at one another, not looking at anything in particular. We
were all hungry, dirty, and the weather was quickly turning. Soon
the days would no longer be warm, and the nights even colder.

“Without gas, we’ll be traveling on foot
soon,” Alex said, both sounding and looking grim. “And dead if we
don’t find anything to eat.”

“
What about other people?” Evelyn asked.
“There must be other survivors.”

Alex turned his hard stare on Evelyn. “Trust
me, we don’t want to find other survivors. You think Whitney was a
ba—”

“Evenin’, friends.”

My head spun left toward the new voice just
as Alex grabbed my arm. I barely had time to see who it was that
had spoken, only getting a glimpse of a dark figure that looked
decidedly male, before Alex yanked me backward and nearly threw me
into Evelyn. Quickly, he moved to stand in front of us, shielding
us both with his body. Evelyn’s hand immediately sought out mine
and we both squeezed each other tightly.

“You look hungry,” the voice continued. “And
tired.”

“We’re fine,” Alex snapped. “Just passing
through.”

“We’ve got food, friends, and—”

“I’m not your friend,” Alex fired back,
sounding more agitated than I’d ever heard him before. I watched,
barely breathing, as his shoulders tensed, the muscles in his back
bunching under his clothing.

“Are you sure about that?” the voice replied,
sounding casual, easygoing, and far too jovial for my liking. “We
could all use a friend these days.”

A crash sounded from behind us, just as a
bright light temporarily blinded me. Gripping Evelyn’s hand
tighter, as well as my gun, I blinked rapidly, aiming my weapon
uselessly, trying to see against the blaze of light. All around me
I could hear shuffling, muffled curses that sounded like Alex,
unfamiliar murmurs, and then all at once Evelyn was ripped away
from me.

Momentarily alone, I flailed, fear holding my
scream hostage in my throat, until hands suddenly grabbed at me,
and pain erupted in my skull. Like from a blow to the gut, breath
whooshed from my lungs as my knees gave out. I began to fall,
dropping down a seemingly endless hole of nothingness, surrounded
by silence and a shade blacker than night.

Evelyn

I awoke to the sound of singing.

Groaning, I grabbed my aching head and
found something sticky coating my hair, the scalp beneath tender
and raw. The trilling sound of several voices singing in harmony
only made the ache worse.

I was suddenly reminded of attending church
as a child. Every Sunday we’d wear our prettiest dresses, my sister
and I, my mother as well, and my father would wear his perfectly
pressed suit. The minister had been a grumpy old bastard. Never a
smile for anyone, not even for the well-behaved children who’d sat
patiently and quietly for fear he’d scold them. In fact, as I’d
grown older, it had become a longstanding joke between my father
and me as we debated the reason behind that old man’s misery.

When I was finally able to pry my heavy eyes
open, it wasn’t only the sound of singing that reminded me of my
childhood. I was seated in a church—the front pew, to be
precise—and there was a choir standing off to my right singing the
last hymn, a benediction I knew by heart.

Similarities aside, the minister standing
behind the podium was the exact opposite of my minister. This man
was anything but miserable, and instead appeared to be hopped up on
happiness. His smile was warm, his eyes shining as they scanned his
congregation. A full head of thick brown curls framed his youthful
and friendly face, and when he turned that face in my direction, he
winked at me, his smile growing even wider.

Blinking, I shook my head as if it would
somehow help clear the fuzz from my brain. When that didn’t seem to
work, I closed my eyes and counted to ten, because this must be a
hallucination or a dream.

That was it! I was dreaming.

Giving myself a good pinch on the arm, I
opened my eyes, yet nothing had changed. Confused, I blinked
several times, and then a few
more for good measure. But nothing had changed. The merry minister
was still there, bouncing about happily, clapping while he sang.
Out of nowhere, the song suddenly reached a new volume, and my body
responded by sending a sharp shooting pain screaming through my
head from temple to temple.

When I glanced to my left, I found an older
woman with gray hair, her eyes kind as she beamed at me. Scowling,
I looked away, only to find the space to my right occupied as well.
Another friendly face smiled at me, this one belonging to a
middle-aged man who was lovingly cradling a shotgun in his lap.

Startled by the gun, I flinched and inched
closer to the woman instead. She placed a gentle hand on my
shoulder, and I flinched again. My behavior didn’t seem to faze
either of them, they continued to smile as they sang, looking
expectantly at me as if awaiting me to open my mouth and jump right
in.

Shrugging the woman’s hand from my
shoulder, I attempted to stand, but was immediately forced back
down by both the woman and the man. Once I was seated again, they
each took one of my arms, gripping the limb in their grasp. It was
then that my mind fully cleared and I realized that Leisel and Alex
weren’t here with me, wherever the hell
here
was.

Twisting around in my seat, I searched
through the sparsely filled pews for any sign of my friends, coming
up empty. Feeling suddenly sick, panicked, and more than a little
afraid, I started to yell.

“Lei!” I screamed, interrupting the third
verse of the hymn. “Leisel!”

Despite my cries, the choir sang on with
wide, contented smiles on their faces. Not even a glance was spared
in my direction, as if this insane scenario was utterly normal for
them.

“Get off me!” I screamed, still twisting in
my seat, trying to shake free of my captors. “Get the fuck off
me!”

The minister chose that moment to finally
stop singing, and once he did, the entire church fell silent. His
happy expression remained firmly in place, though something had
changed. His eyes seemed different now, as if a darkness had crept
in.

“You’re awake!” Clapping his hands together,
he gave me a toothy grin. “Wonderful. Let me introduce myself,
friend!” he continued cheerfully. “I’m Mr. Peter, and the good
people seated next to you are Mr. Michael and Mrs. Mary!”

“Friend,” Mr. Michael greeted me, bowing his
head.

I gawked at all three of these crazy people,
my eyes bugging out of my head, my brain having trouble grasping
what was really happening here.

“Friend,” Mrs. Mary said, releasing me in
order to offer her hand.

Instead of taking it, I jumped up, catching
Mr. Michael by surprise, and wrenched free from his grip on my arm.
As I scrambled backward, both Mrs. Mary and Mr. Michael were
already on their feet, reaching for me. Suddenly Mr. Peter was
there, his white robes swishing around him as he stepped in front
of them, blocking them from reaching me.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Michael,” he
said, his eyes on me. “We’re all friends here, no need to
panic.”

I scowled at him. “Where’s Leisel!” I
demanded.

The minister cocked his head to one side,
looking thoughtful. “I’m afraid I don’t know of a Leisel,
friend.”

“The woman I was with!” I screamed, my hands
twitching with the urge to wrap them around his neck. “Where are
the people I was with?”

“Ah, your companions,” he replied calmly.
“Why, they’re here. With us.” He gestured behind him, toward the
congregation.

Desperate, I swung my head around, my eyes
now wild as I searched for any sign of Alex or Leisel.

The church was small and dark, its windows
boarded up. The walls were white, the carpet red, and candles have
been placed throughout the entire space. There were more people
here then I’d previously thought, twenty or so, although there
might have been more considering I couldn’t see straight through to
the very back. Still, I saw no sign of Leisel or Alex.

“Leisel!” I shouted again. “Leisel!”

Mr. Peter placed his hand on my arm. His grip
was not harsh, in fact, his touch was gentle, probably meant to be
a calming gesture, yet it had the opposite effect on me.

“They are here,” he said, his tone lower than
before, with a hint of a threat. “They are within us all.” He
pointed to himself and then spread his arms open wide, emphatically
gesturing to everyone.

Sharply, I turned to look out at the
congregation, finding them little more than happy statues. When I
glanced back at Mr. Peter, my panic and fear reached their pinnacle
and I lashed out. My fist connected with his jaw with a sickening
crunch, and we both cried out in pain. But pain was the least of my
concern. As he stumbled backward, I leaped, jumping on top of him,
and sent him sprawling flat onto the floor. Screaming obscenities,
I sent my fist again into his face, clawing at his skin, slapping
at him, until hands gripped the back of my clothing and promptly
yanked me to my feet.

I was still flailing, screaming and kicking,
when Mr. Peter was helped to his feet. His nostrils flaring, he
glared at me through swollen eyelids. Licking the blood from his
bottom lip, his once happy expression was gone, replaced with a
deadly snarl.

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” he
practically growled. “I thought we were friends.”

“Where is she?” I yelled, my throat burning
with grief.

Without warning his hand lashed out,
connecting painfully with my cheek. My head snapped back and stars
danced in front of my eyes as I blinked repeatedly, desperately
trying to focus. But the slap was like a mallet to my already dazed
skull. Suddenly my legs were like jelly, and I slumped against the
men holding me up.

“Take her to the altar,” Mr. Peter said to
the men holding me, his now cold and disappointed gaze landing on
me. “We’re forever grateful for your sacrifice, friend,” he said
softly, a wicked smile curving his lips.

No longer with the strength to yell, I
mumbled something incoherent in response before I was dragged away
from the candlelit room and through a door. It was dark in the
bowels of the church, my already strained eyes unable to make out
much more than shadows.

“Don’t worry, friend!” Mr. Peter called out,
his voice sounding muffled and far away. “You’ll be with them soon.
Both the Lord and I want you to know that we are indebted to you.
Forever grateful.”

I didn’t have the energy to fight them,
whoever was dragging me along. And what would have been the point?
Not only did they outnumber me, but Mr. Peter’s parting words had
stripped away any fight I had left.
It no longer mattered anymore what happened to
me.

Nothing mattered if Leisel was gone.

I felt myself being pulled down a set of
stairs, hearing the
thump-thump-thump
of my feet as they dully hit against each concrete step. It
was even darker down here, and foul smelling. As the rank smell of
death and decay washed over me, I gagged and almost sobbed. That
smell reminded me of the early days, of the disease on every
corner, in every home. It reminded me of the families lost, the
children massacred. Worse, it reminded me of Shawn, of his final
moments.