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.