5: Turns Against

‘When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.’

-Psalm 27:10






We look out from under I-5. The sky has really opened up: torrents of fiery acid pours down. Death falls and obscures the view ahead. It’s dangerous to be out here in this sort of weather. We should probably stay under the interstate for a little longer to see if this clears up.


“Staying near the interstate hasn't exactly been working well for us, Isaic.”


What do you mean? With the exception of the man we just ran into we haven’t gotten into any trouble near the interstate.


She gives me a look. Rain draws a curtain behind her, the street is an ocean of burning water.


Listen, REI doesn’t count. And besides, He helped us through that fine. We stay under the interstate for a little bit, let the rain thin, pass onto the bridge.


“Listen, Isaic, we’ve had a hell of a time making it this far. We need some real shelter, a place where we can rest and sit this out, maybe get some food.” There is something odd in her eyes. Anxiousness?


If you haven’t noticed, Zoe, there’s really no such place as a fast food restaurant left, let alone people to run it. Most of the things that hang around in those places are looking for a different type of food than Big Mac’s.


“Isaic, I know a place right up here where we can get those things.” Raise my eyebrows.


Really? You know a place?


“Yea. My parent’s home is just up off Broadway East. They sent me a letter just before all of this telling me to come up and get them and my brother.” So that's it.


Why didn’t you tell me what you really wanted to do?


“I thought you’d think it was stupid and dangerous.”


Well that's because it is! Going into a residential area is just about one of the dumbest things you can do outside of getting on the highways.


“But you said yourself that we killed off a lot of the zombies back at REI! And we haven’t been running into any trouble either, you said that too!”


Listen, you can’t just go changing around your argument like that. How do you even know that your parents-


“I just want to check, okay Isaic!? Jesus, show some fucking compassion, will you?”


I take a deep breath. First of all, I would appreciate it if you didn’t take His name in vain. You need to watch your mouth more. And secondly I’m trying to show compassion. I’m taking care of you. And I’m not about to let you run off and throw His plan for you away just because you think your parents might still-


“Do you even have parents Isaic!? If there was a chance, a single chance, that your family was this close to you, wouldn't you risk everything to try and get to them?”


The rain pounds the pavement, whittles it ever so slowly away with its toxic touch.


I am silent.


He is kneeling before me in front of the congregation. They look at me, they see His will, they hear His decree. All through me. Hold my sword high. God has told me of your sin, and as the Lord liveth, ye are worthy to die. God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell. Your judgment awaits you in hell, Father. And I will be your deliverer.


“Hello? Isaic? Are you even listening to me?” Zoe is staring at me, sheets of poison rains down behind her.


I’ll come with you. But only because I know you're going to no matter what I say and you would have no other watching over you.


Or maybe she would. I’m still trying to figure out Your plan for her. She must be very special. I promise I will look after her for You.


“You will?”


Yes, I will. Now lead the way, would you kindly? We set off.


It’s not far away at all, just off Allison Street. The house is on the west side of Broadway. Grey. An American flag hangs next to the front door. The door is boarded up. Zoe races up the steps. The neighborhood is unexpectedly quiet.


Hear me, O Lord, when I call upon You, and grant supplications and a calm atmosphere, that we, who are justly afflicted for our sins, may, by Your protecting mercy, experience pardon. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.


This is a very bad idea Zoe.


“Oh come on, the boards mean something good, don’t they?”


I’ll admit it is better than if it was completely desolate. This is still very bad, though. She knocks. No response. She knocks again. Zoe…


“They’ll answer. I can see lights on inside. I’m just happy they’re safe.”


Zoe, we really don’t know if they’re-


“Maybe they’re asleep.” She goes over to the bay window, smashes it.


Damnú air, could you be any louder!


“Sorry.” She climbs over the ledge.


May the God of all patience and consolation grant to me that I may live in perfect harmony with my fellow man. With one heart, may I give glory to You, our Father, and to Jesus Christ my brother. In the unity and love of the Holy Spirit. Amen.


I follow through the window. Drop onto the linoleum floor. Zoe is stopped in front of me.


What’s wrong? Draw my shotgun.


She drops to the ground in front of a fire in the middle of the dining room. I walk forward; look to see the cause of it.


It is a man. His features are completely obscured; the body is a pile of ember.


Oh God, who has commanded-


“SHUT THE HELL UP ISAIC!!” Zoe is turns to me, scream drawn over her face. Tears stream down her cheeks. The rain pounds hard on the roof of the house.


We are silent as the body burns to the beat of the rain. 


A scream from the floor above, a terrible, wrenching, inhuman scream. Aim my shotgun at the stairs.


One of the beasts throws itself down the staircase. It is ragged, naked. A woman.


“NO!!”


Zoe pulls my gun down. It goes off, pain runs through my leg. I fall to the floor, my shotgun spinning away.


The beast lunges at Zoe. They fall together onto the body. Embers scatter across the floor. They struggle.


“NO!! STOP IT!!”


The screams, the pounding of the rain, the pounding of the blood in my ears. Zoe and the beast crash into the dining room table, it collapses.


Reach to leg. Slimy, wet with my blood. Try to pull out my pistol; the holster strap was cut with the shotgun blast. My pistols beneath my leg. Be thou not far from me, Oh Lord!


Zoe launches the beast from the rubble of the table. It smashes into the bottom of the staircase. Zoe stands, leg from the table in hand. She runs at it.


“NO!!” Her scream rends the air, a hefty swing down on the Godless thing. Brown blood spatters her, drenches her face.


“NO! NO! NO! FUCK YOU! DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU! NOOO!!!” Each word of hers is a hammer blow. The pulp of the beast spews everywhere. Paints the white carpet with the gore of creature. Bits of flesh fly into Zoe’s face, but she keeps her rhythm of mashing flesh. The rain accents the beats.


She pounds. She pounds until the corpse at her feet is a brown pile of flesh and bone. She pounds the skin from the flesh, the marrow from the bones. She pounds until there is nobody left. Her screams slowly become sobs, heart-tearing sobs. The rain cries her sorrow. Her rhythm slows, fewer blows now, the tears carving rivers through the gory grime on her face.


She falls to her knees in the mess that was her mother, besides the ashes that were her father. Her's is a tremendous lament. It blends with the rain, and becomes indistinguishable. Within this moment, there is only twisted grief.


I turn over. Pain shoots up my left leg. Gather my shotgun and pistol, stow in backpack.


I crawl to her through the embers on the linoleum, through the chunks of flesh strewn across the ground.


Stagger to my feet. Zoe, are you hurt?


She is crying.


Zoe. Are you hurt? Are you cut, did anything get in your eyes?


She just cries.


Answer me, Zoe! I pump my shotgun.


ANSWER ME ZOE! Point my shotgun at her head. She turns to me. Her face…


That image will haunt me forever.


“No.”


Slowly lower my shotgun. That look. 


Alright, let’s go. We have to get out of here. Screams in the distance.


She helps to get me out the window. The rain is torrential. We hurry up East Broadway as fast as we can away from that accursed house. The screams draw ever nearer. I stumble, Zoe keeps me up.


We get to the Fuhrman Avenue intersection. The first one bounds over a car. A few more come down from the north. Their feet are swift to shed blood.


Thou shalt fear the Lord thy God.


I aim my shotgun with one hand, clenching onto Zoe with my other arm. The blast bends the first one back upon itself. Zoe drops the other three. She fires almost a whole clip to down them. We scramble up Furhman; Zoe can barely support my weight as we half jog, half stagger. Up ahead one drives towards us on all fours.


Him shalt thou serve.


Zoe helps me pump the shotgun. The things head detaches off into the downpour of acid. We make it back to Eastlake. I’m knocked down from behind. Face hits pavement, pain explodes in my nose. Zoe screams. Try to look up. 


The thing’s on its back. I draw An Spiorad Naomh.


And to Him shalt thou cleave.


I twist around with all my strength and tear the heathen apart with each slash. Are you hurt Zoe?


“No!” We scream over the torrent. “Come on!” She helps me back up. We stagger up Eastlake. Two more approach from where the bridge begins. They race at us.


And swear by His name.


We raise our guns in unison. They fall into a pool of their own sinful corruption.


We press on. The bridge can barely be made out ahead of us.


We squint desperately through the rain.


The bridge is raised.


We stop.


“God damn it!! What the hell do we do now Isaic!?” Her eyes cry despair and anguish I have not known in years. She knows the answer even before I say it.


We’re gonna have to take the interstate, Zoe.

4: Paths Taken Yet Unknown

'Man knoweth not the price thereof.'


-Job 28:13






She has an uncanny knack for being completely silent. But people speak with more than just words. She is scared, obviously, but her fear goes much deeper than just the shock I see in others. She fears something, someone. Perhaps the loss of someone?


I feel lucky to be counted in the company of the Lord. As should she.


We’ve made our way up Eastlake Ave. with surprisingly few encounters. We killed off more than I thought, apparently. I still see the smoke from REI when I turn around. Thank God we’re back and moving.


“I’m sorry.”


I turn to her. She turns away. For what?


“I didn’t mean to insult you back there. I was just, just scared is all. I really thought we were finished.”


Speak ye unto the rock before their eyes, and it shall give forth his water.


Apology accepted. But you really need to have more faith in the Lord’s plan. He has shown himself to be quite versatile when the situation calls for it.


“Listen, I don’t mean to disagree…”


And yet you already are. She pauses, then starts again.


“…I don’t mean to disagree but that back there had nothing to do with God’s will. It was only you Isaic. You saved us with those bombs of yours. And if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve been dead back on the viaduct. God didn’t reach his hand down and smite the zombies for us, you did that.”


God created man in His own image, in the image of God created He him; male and female created He them. You understand that right? We are him. He acts through us. We are as much a part of His life as He is a part of ours, Zoe. You can’t just forget your past; you can’t forsake your roots. They’ll always find you, and if you have ignored them they tend to come back biting at your ankles.


One of those creatures careens out from an alley way ahead, skids into a turn, runs with inhuman speed at us. Zoe drops back, covers her face.


Walk forward, draw shovel, it races on three legs, cheeks gashed open, eye flopping out of its socket. Side step. Swing.


The splatter from the head is minimal. Upper half of its head soars high as it crumples down beside me.


It’s all done in five seconds.


Zoe stands, lowers her hands. Shame is written on her face.


What makes her so afraid? How has she survived this long? She said she came up from California, U.C. Berkley. How could someone with so little faith in Him have ever held His attention?


There’s something about her.


We walk, her shame keeping her silence, my awareness keeping me occupied, this rain keeping us always drenched and staying to whatever cover there is that doesn’t look dangerous. We come up to up to an intersection with East Allison Street. She starts going right. What are you doing?


“Can’t we get to the bridge this way?”


Yes, but it’s not as straight a shot as it would be if we kept on Eastlake. Why do you want to go that way?


“Well, it’s just, Eastlake crosses under I-5, and I don’t really wanna be under that with the possibility of running into zombies.”


But Allison goes under I-5 as well.


“Yea, but Eastlake’s a bigger street, more traffic used to go on it. More vehicles.”


I see her point. Okay, let’s go down Allison.


We turn down Allison. I-5 gives us some much needed shelter from the rain. There’s a burning vehicle under the overpass though. Out from it wanders…a person?


Zoe lowers her gun. Begins to rush over to try and help. Grab her.


“Hey, what the hell?”


Hold on a second. Watch its movements.


“That guys on fire, we’ve gotta help him! Lemme go!” She struggles. The person falls to the ground, rolling around. It clenches its hands to its face. He lets out a scream. I let her go.


She rushes forward. Follow her. I pull out blanket and smother the fire. She brings out her canteen and pours it over him. He’s calmer now, his burns are pretty bad though.


“W-who…ugh…” He lets out a scream. Cover his mouth. 


You need to be very quiet; if you keep screaming like that you’ll draw every beast from a mile away. Breathe, just breathe. Let go of my hand. He sobs quietly.


“Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be fine now.” Zoe holds his head.


His eyes are very dilated. His breathing sounds very irregular. He has an open wound, but no blood spills out from it.


Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.


Zoe looks at me. “What are you doing?”


Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Push, Zoe out of the way.


“What they hell, Isaic!?”


Do you accept Jesus Christ into your heart as your Lord and Savior?


The man looks at me. Eyes lose focus. They begin to redden.


Do you accept Jesus Christ into your heart as your Lord and Savior?


“Isaic, what are you doing? He needs to rest!” Hold him down, pin his arms. “Isaic!”


Do you accept Him into your hear? Will you let him absolve you of your sins? Will you take communion?


“Isaic, wha-“His eyes are bloodshot now; the color begins to drain from his face.


I don’t have much time, he must have just woken up.


Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.


Kneel on his stomach.


“Isaic will you just cut this bullshit out already?”


Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.


Reach slowly to my back. He squirms beneath me. His eyes are set upon me, the last vestiges of his soul being torn from him.


Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.


Draw my sword. Zoe starts at me, hold her back with one hand.


But deliver us from evil: for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever.


Push Zoe away as gently as I can. He writhes beneath me, tries to free his hands.


He looks at me. There is no God there.


Amen.


Bring down my longsword. Pierces through his head. His writhing ceases. Stand up. Sudden impact from the left, fall back down.


“What the fuck is your problem Isaic!? You just killed an innocent man! Wha-“


Do you see him bleeding!? She stops hitting me.


“What are you-“


Do. You. See him bleeding?!?


She turns and looks at the corpse. “N-no. Why is he not…”


He was turning. His body was being consumed by this plague. She puts a hand to her mouth. “What?”


He showed all the classic signs of a person who is about to lose his humanity to the plague. Usually a person awakens once they turn, but he must have been shocked out of his dying state before he had fully been consumed. It’s lucky that we were able to save him.


“Save him? SAVE HIM? What the hell do you mean?! You put a fucking sword through his head Isaic you-“


I DID NOT KILL HIM! I saved him from a terrible fate! Now if you will please excuse me, I need to finish.


“Finish?! What exactly do-“


Please be quiet Zoe. Push her aside. Kneel beside him, An Spiorad Naomh laid across my lap, stained brown with this man’s tainted blood.


Leaba imeasc na naomh go raibh acu agus ag an chlann mac is iníon atá leo.


I close his eyes. Kiss his forehead. Take out two of my metal coins and place them on his eyes. Stand, start cleaning An Spiorad Naomh. Zoe stares at me.


“Isaic…w-what the, what did you-“


It’s an old Gaelic blessing. For the dead.


“You’re Irish?”


Yes.


She falls silent. Were you expecting me to stagger around singing songs about the old country in a half drunken stupor all the time?


"Well, no, but I thought you'd at least have red hair or an accent or..something..." 


Sorry to disappoint. Wipe the blood off. I don’t know many good jigs either; apparently the good Lord didn’t see fit to bless me with my mother’s talent.


I smile. She just stares. But her eyes, they say so much. They tell me she doesn’t understand. They tell me she wishes she could.


They tell me, she is afraid. Of me.


The seeing see not; and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand. Ah well.


In time.


Shall we press on then?

3: Pillars of Faith

‘Blessed be the Lord, my rock, Who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle.’

- Psalm 144:1






“I don’t mean to rush you, but I think now would be very good time to do whatever you’re planning to do. They’re clawing up the sides fast.”


Zoe is right. There are so many crowded at the bottom of this rock now they’re just piling up on top of one another. A rising tide of corrupted death. Don’t worry, Zoe. Their foot shall slide in due time.


“Will you just cut the religious crap and kill these zombies!?” She fires off a few rounds. They do about as much good as bombing an ocean would.


What exactly have I told you about firing off shots? All it does is waste your ammo.


“Well it’s a lot better than just fiddling with some radio and babbling nonsense about God and ‘His almighty plan!’”


I put the device down. Turn to her. Alright, what is it exactly that you believe?


“What?” She turns, stopping her pointless firing.


This isn’t nonsense. It’s ordained.


“We don’t exactly have time for a religious debate. If you haven’t noticed there’s a bunch of zombies down there that’d like us for lunch! So why don’t you cut the bull and just get back to your little…whatever the hell you’re working on, okay?”


No. We have a job to do here and if you’re not going to keep your head about you, then I don’t know how we’re going to complete it.


“What is with you!? Do you really think that this is all some plan laid down by God to punish Humanity or some shit?”


Yes.


“That’s bullshit! I thought God was supposed to be full of, of unending…everlasting compassion or some shit? If your God did this so he could save…”


My God? MY GOD!? If you think for one second that you’re not part of what’s going on here then you can jump down there and join the rest of those wrecks! If you’re so secure in your hate of Him, then what exactly is that you DO have faith in?


“I don’t hate God, Isaic. But I have faith in man! I have faith that with time our government, the men we have chosen to lead us…”


The men we chose to lead us! Do you know why these inhumane brutes exist? Do you know why they’re so different from every other Zed you’ve seen Zoe? Do you know why the sky rains acid and burns this city and everything in it with its toxic deluge? Well do you Zoe!?


“No, but…”


Man, Zoe. Our elected officials, our men of government bombed this city with chemical weapons to try and stave off His design for them. Man killed every last survivor in this city and made those slimes down below into the horrors that they are now! So put faith in man, Zoe. Put faith in those who have damned this city for all eternity. Go and cry unto the gods which ye have chosen; let them deliver you! But as for me, I will serve the Lord.


Rummage through my pack, looking for those charges. Four should do it. Set the frequencies on each charge.


I’ll show these heathens their salvation. I’ll give them their Eden.


I can feel her gaze on my back. I don’t get it. Why doesn’t she see? Why does she deny what is so plain?


Device is finished. Pull out the charges.


A man’s pride brings him low.


Listen, Zoe. I’m sorry. I understand this is hard for both us. But if we’re to get through this together then you need have some faith.


Toss the first charge down on the South side.


I didn’t mean to assume that you hated Him. It’s just hard for me to understand how you don’t see his design for you.


“And you do?” She stares, big blue eyes. She is a pretty girl. I hold the second charge just over the edge of the West side.


No. Toss it down. Walk to the North side.


But I know that it’s not by chance that we’re together. I know that we may be the only two people living left in this city. I know that we both are strong.


Toss the third charge.


We are lambs among wolves, Zoe. And so far, we have prevailed over the corrupt. We have not succumbed. This. This is miraculous.


Head to East side.


And miracles are nothing to be taken lightly.


Toss the fourth charge.


It’s amazing how much she says with just those eyes of hers. She pities me.


Save your pity for those below us. She blushes a little. You think I’m mad.


“I just see the world so differently from how you see it. I don’t understand it.”


Well then. We appear to be of the same mind. When we have some time later, maybe we can discuss our similar incomprehension, eh?


“When do you think we’re going to have that time? We’re stuck on top of a climbing rock with…” She gazes over the edge “…just about every zombie in Seattle crawling up the side of it for our flesh. How do you propose we’re gonna survive this, huh?”


Set the frequency on the transmitter. Get the 2 liter coke bottle outta my bag for me, would you Zoe? She searches through my pack, pulls out the plastic bottle.


“Why exactly do you want Coke? Did you run out of wine? Do you have some fish you want me to pull out too for our last supper?”


Very witty, Zoe. But that’s not Coke. Take off the lid and pour some all around on these beasts below. Half the bottle should do it. All around the rock, that’s right. She obliges.


“So what is in this exactly?” It pours out, a sludge dripping over the monsters.


Mixture of tar and gasoline. She startles, nearly drops the bottle. Careful now! It’s not like we can just buy that stuff.


She finishes, caps the bottle, puts it back in my bag.


Remember how I said that He put us on this rock for a reason? They are our reason, Zoe. They are as stubble before the wind, and as chaff that the storm carrieth away.


We are as the wind, Zoe.


Set the frequency on the transmitter. Her eyes go wide, she crouches covering her head. I stand, still looking at her.


We are that storm.


Push the button.


Four balls of fire erupt. The glass tower around the climbing rock blasts outward with the explosion from below. Those four breaching charges pack a little more punch than I thought they would. Light up those wretches right nicely. A new sun burns around our rock, and purges the heathens with fire. They fall out away from the rock like water draining from a tub. They keep trying to climb. They show no pain as their faces melt off.


They’re insistent bastards, I’ll give them that. But we wait a couple of minutes and that fire’ll burn them all out for good. Then we can get back finding your brother, Zoe.


“But won’t there just be more? Won’t they be waiting for us?”


Most every Zed that was within a couple mile radius is at the bottom of our little rock here, and as I said, given a couple minutes they’ll just be charred little bits of flesh incapable of their cannibalistic hunger. We just took out most every zombie that’s going to giving us trouble for a while. If we keep away from the interstate, and go once they’re all ashes on the ground, then we shouldn’t run into much trouble for the rest of our quest.


I sit down, begin cleaning the rifle and pistol. There’s always reason, Zoe. Always a reason for what He does. Always a plan.


The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my god, my strength, in whom I will trust.

2: The Rock

‘I will be an enemy unto thine enemies, and an adversary unto thine adversaries.’

- Exodus 23:22






Her name is Zoe. She’s very young. She tells me as we walk that she was a college student. She came up to Seattle to find her brother. He was attending the University of Washington when the hordes hit Seattle.


I think that this is a foolish goal. I haven’t seen anyone except those damned creatures for a few weeks. But I hold my tongue. Her situation is nigh hopeless, and she’s come far for her search. The poor have hope. They must.


We’re on Stewart Street. There used to be a lot of profit in this district. The Westlake Shopping Center, hotels, theatres. Its trash now. The hotels are some of the worst death traps in the city. The wretched smell of decayed flesh wafts out of their windows, spewing the maddening smell into the streets. The theatres were some of the first hold outs for survivors; I never venture into them anymore though. They’re like the hotels now.


They have wasted their substance now with riotous living.


She’s scared. She keeps looking about, a frightened animal on the run. I try to console her. I tell her that God has a plan for her and me. We are two strong spirits, kindred souls. His plan sparred us for reasons we have yet to even fathom. We must trust him, for with the Lord there is mercy.


She says nothing. She hasn’t spoken since we first met. A time to keep silence and a time to speak I suppose.


I tell her that this day is very good for both of us. We have been blessed with good fortune. Thus far, He has seen to keep the beasts from our path.


“This is good luck.”


Luck? Luck has nothing to do with this.


“What do you mean? It’s by pure chance that we met, and we’ve been lucky not to run into any of those zombies this whole time.”


God’s design, Zoe. He always has a plan for us. We may not always understand it, but he always has a plan. He gave me an ally so that I may better do his bidding, and he gave you me as a guide. God doesn’t play with dice.


Silence again. We keep our course.


We come up to Denny Way. She starts to keep on Stewart but I grab her backpack, tell her that you don’t go onto the highway unless there is no other choice. And there’s always another choice.


“Why?”


The first thing that most people tried to do when He began this was to get out of Seattle. Fear of the Lord, that is wisdom. But theirs was cowardice. Like cattle they crowded the highways. And like cattle they were slaughtered in His name, succumbing to His terrible and righteous punishment. Even before the bombs rained it was a bad idea to try and traverse the highway. When the warning was issued though, some people still tried.


There is only death now on that highway. Worse than the hotels, worse than the theatres. It is congested with the refuse of man that was. The rotting masses scramble around the packed lanes. That road lies only to a very quick death.


We turn onto Eastlake Avenue. The REI building is right ahead of us. The exits onto 1-5 are all plugged with cars. The intersection’s strewn with cars that never made it even to the highway. I’m nervous. She’s worse.


We maneuver our way through the long dead traffic. The rain has rusted the cars green. The trees lie dead around the intersection, burned with this unholy water.


We both hear the screams. It’s a hellish sound. I tell her to remain calm, now is not our time…


She bumps a car. An alarm sounds. The din rises to an unbearably rancorous level. From I-5 I hear crowds of them bellow out in confused rage.


There is no time. Follow me. We’ve got to get into a building; these streets are too crowded to fight in.


“Where the hell are we supposed to go though?!”


Just follow me, okay! There’s a large climbing rock in a glass tower attached to the REI building. Run down the entryway path. Come on keep up!


Get to the front door. Try to open it, but it won’t budge. Pull out my shotgun and put a slug through the handle. Door blasts open.


“Where are we going to go? I thought you said buildings are suicide?”


This place has been fortified before; there may still be people left in here defending the place. Close up the door; try to block it as best I can.


“I wouldn’t count on it.” She points. Down the hall, three of those damned creatures turn from feeding on a former comrade.


“This is some shitty luck we’re having.” Draws her pistol.


This isn’t luck; I’ve told you that before. Aim my shotgun.


“Well then what the hell is this?” Fires two rounds. One down, the wall is a new shade of crimson.


The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord. Second one helps match the carpet to the wall.


“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” The third one crumples into a heap of gore.


It means stay on my ass. Turn through the halls; find the glass room with the climbing pillar. The people here before were busy. The pillar has a nice platform rigged to the top with rope. Looks to be about thirty feet tall. Should do.


Stow my shotgun. Climb.


We get near the top. I can see the entrance from where I’m at. They pound at the door, a tidal wave of fists crashing at my haphazard barricade. The door goes. Screams fill the glass tower housing the pillar.


We get to the top. She struggles over the side. There’s some provisions up here, and a pistol and rifle. This should be good to hold us for a bit.


She’s shaking with fear. It’s okay, see? We’re not dead. He’s proved Himself to us again. This is meant to be.


She says nothing. Don’t worry Zoe. They’re angry now, but we just need to give them some time to calm down. Patience now. Trust thou in the Lord.


Still nothing. She’s so afraid.


“We’re stuck on top of a rock, with hordes of those, those zombies clawing for our flesh. There’s no way out. We’re gonna die here.”


Did you think you were gonna die back on the viaduct? Her silence speaks her answer.


The Lord works in mysterious ways Zoe. He put us up on this rock for a reason. We just have to figure out why.

1: Recompense

"Vengeance is Mine, and retribution, In due time their foot will slip; For the day of their calamity is near, And the impending things are hastening upon them."

- Deuteronomy 32:35






God always has a plan. Man never could let Him just do His work in peace, though. No, we always interfered for our own gain and altered for our own sinful fulfillment. Man could never just go along with His will. Few care to even listen to Him anymore.


No matter. When He has finished and brought us out of this, we’ll have to listen.


I stand at the top of the Columbia Center. I always miss the rain. I used to see it and think of the sermon Father Ivans once gave. He talked about how the Great Flood was God’s baptism for earth. He said that humanity was at its peak of sin and depravity; that we wallowed in our own moral defecation. God spared Noah of His wrath so that man might start again and claim the Christian kingdom He had designed for man.


Man does have a way with abusing His design.


When the government bombed Seattle with chemical weapons all it did was to kill those that had survived and make those who did not even stronger. The beasts roam in the streets now, shouting terrible screams of incomprehensible hatred. They bulge with the chemicals that were sent to wipe them out. They are host to two devils now.


The sky rains acid. This water that falls now is not His. It’s tainted, muddied with man’s own malice. I think Egypt would want all ten of her plagues over this cruel curse. I stand under my makeshift cover as God laughs at his creation’s poor rebellion. Holes burn through the tarp, my clothes are stained with the failings of my race. He made the monsters stronger and the sky sickening to prove that this, what we are living now, is our own doing. This is our punishment against ourselves. This is the price of our insolence.


I watch the Emerald City live up to its name. The buildings are burnt with these drops of bitter guilt. The city is a canvas of this fetid rain, green with the rotting rust of this bitter downpour. I hear the screams of the damned in the streets below. They move like animals. Yet animals have more care than these fiends.


They tear at each other and rip one another into chunks. Pieces of them lie in the road, green with the sickness. The gutters are overrun with gore. But they don’t stop. They never stop. Always death surrounds them. A rabble of hate consumed in its own destruction; they’re not unlike how they were in life.


In the midst of that hellish roar, though, I hear a sound much more human and real. Fear. Anguish. Despair. Real human emotion.


A survivor.


I run to the southwest edge of the tower. Pull up my scope. She’s on the viaduct. There’s at least ten behind her.


Safety off. Vengeance on.


I send the beasts back to their maker. If this is God’s test, then I will prove my worth.


Straight through the head.


Second through the chest.


These putrid hellish nightmares aren’t going to stand in the way of my Heaven. Or hers, if I can help it.


The third takes an arm.


Fourth and fifth stain the ground with their blood.


I take their confessions. They may be at rest now.


The sixth round carves my fury through one’s chest. There is no heart left to burn, no fear left to die. The road is red with my anger where the seventh one falls.


I envy them. They are at rest now. I have given them peace. But there is no rest for the living.


Eight and nine are laid in their place, while the tenth grabs at her jeans. She falls, tangles with it. Kicks and screams. A clawing, tearing mess of survival. I can’t get the right angle. She’s struggling too much. I see its teeth go to bite her arm.


Just need to breathe. Put trust in His design for me. For her. Trust. Close my eyes and fire.


God always has a plan.