Forty-Fifth Entry: Infected

May 24th

We have been hoping Sharon's going to be okay, she's been okay except for complaining about feeling a little stiff and achy, and having a bit of nausea over the last couple of days, but that could just be from the antibiotics. We thought maybe we had dodged a bullet; Sharon has been her normal self except that she keeps looking at her bandage.

I've changed her bandage a couple of times for her, washing the area with hydrogen peroxide. The two little cuts are red and puffy, but I tried to let that go, hoping it was just a normal infection. That changed tonight.

We are staying in a library. I did not see the name of the town on our way in, and to be honest, I've been kind of distracted with Sharon's health the last couple of days to pay too much attention to anything else.

We managed to destroy the three zeds we found in front of the library with no problem, but we found that we are not the first ones to hide in the library.

In the librarian's office we found some blankets and a mattress on the floor along with a stack of books, some canned food and bottled water, and a double barrel shotgun and a box of shells. Judging by the fact that the empty food cans are completely dried out, I am guessing that whoever this was has not been here too recently.

I was setting out our sleeping bags near the others in the children's room when I heard Sharon call my name. I ran towards the sound of her voice. The others stood frozen, looks of worry on their faces.

“Where are you?” I yelled, my voice sounding dull in the library's main room.

“Over here!” She called back.

I found her on her knees in front of a pile of books that she apparently pulled off the shelves as she fell.

“What happened?” I asked, “Are you okay?”

“I don't think so,” she said, and I realized that she was crying, “I got dizzy, and I couldn't stand up anymore. “

I knelt down next to her, and put my hand on her shoulder; she was shaking violently, “Is it...?” I couldn't finish the question.

She looked at me, tears streaming down her face, “I think it is,” her voice quavered as she spoke.

“But the antibiotics!”

“Didn't work.”

“This could be side effects then!”

“Oh God, I'm dying!”

“No you can't be; it's the flu or something, or stress. You've been stressed the last couple of days,” I blurted out, as if saying it would make it true. I couldn't accept it. This can't be happening.

“ I don't want to die,” she said.

“Are you okay?” a voice said from behind me. It was Pippa, she had apparently broken the paralysis that had overcome all of our friends and followed me.

Sharon just looked at her, and started sobbing.

Pippa looked at Sharon, and at me. I felt like my head was going to explode with fear, and pain, and I wanted to join Sharon in crying; I could feel the tears behind my eyes, but none came.

“She's going to be okay, right?” Pippa asked me.

I just looked at her in reply, and I guess that told Pippa everything she needed to know. Pippa dropped, joining the two of on the floor on her knees, “You can't die! I don't want you to die!” she said, and she started crying too.

Sharon crawled past me, and put her arms around Pippa, hugging her tightly. I put my arms around both of them. We were a family, and one of us had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

I held the two sobbing women in my arms, conscious now that every second we sat there brought my wife one moment closer to death. I know that every second before then did the same thing too, but now I was conscious that her death was close; the clearing at the end of her path is almost in sight now.

I don't know how long we sat there. The women crying, me holding them, not wanting to ever let either of them go. Not wanting to let Sharon go, as if somehow holding her would keep her safe; keep her alive. My chance to keep her safe had already passed though.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to see Beth standing there. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were wet, she mouthed words to me, “Is it?”

I looked at her, and realized now that I was shaking too. I couldn't speak. I couldn't say it. My vision blurred as my eyes watered, but still no tears. My chest felt ready to burst, but I couldn't cry.

I blinked to clear my eyes s that I could see Beth again, “I'm sorry,” she mouthed a tear slipping from her right eye. She spoke aloud then, but quietly, “Come on. Let get her to lie down.”

I felt like I couldn't stand myself, let alone help Sharon. I managed to get to my feet though, and while Beth helped Pippa to stand, I helped Sharon to her feet. She made it a couple of steps, and then almost pulled me down to the floor as he legs gave out.

Despite feeling so weak, I was able to lift Sharon back up from the floor, and carry her to our sleeping bag. She shook and cried in my arms during the short walk, and there was nothing I could do for it. There's nothing I can do to save her this time.

I thought she would need something to help her sleep, but she dozed off, or passed out, almost as soon as she was inside the bag.

Gerry was sitting on the edge of one of the small tables that used to accommodate children, and wouldn't even look at me. I could tell he was upset though, he kept wiping at his eyes. As for Maria, she was gone and so was her sleeping bag. I think she's in the librarian's office. I don't really want to even see her right now.

Beth sat with Pippa for awhile, while I sat on the sleeping bag next to my Sharon, and did nothing. I wasn't zoned out or anything, I think I was just in shock. I could hear Beth talking to Pippa, and I think ultimately Beth may be the strongest and least screwed up of all of us, are at least she is to me what Gerry is to Maria.

After a time, Beth left Pippa, who had also fallen asleep, and came over to me, “Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

She ignored my answer, “Are you okay?”

I looked at her like she was an idiot, “No, I'm not okay!” I said too loudly, but didn't wake either Pippa or Sharon. Then, more quietly, “Sharon's dying and it's my fault.”

“How is it your fault?”

“I should have protected her! I should have told her how I felt years ago, and then we wouldn't have been there. I should have made her stay at the church.”

“I've heard this before,” Beth said.

“I'm sorry my pain inconveniences you! Feel free to piss off like Gerry did.”

“Gerry's upset, and he doesn't know how to handle it. He feels responsible for asking us all to come with Maria. We're all responsible one way or another for this, including Sharon herself.”

I realized something, “Oh my God! You're my Gerry, aren't you?”

“Huh?”

“Gerry is the only one who will really tolerate Maria, is that what you are to me?”

“Are you drunk?” she asked me, “Everybody likes you. Pippa views the two of you as the family she never really had. Sharon loves you. Gerry likes you, hell I think Maria likes you down beneath her issues.”

“Then why are you always the one having these conversations with me?”

“I worry about you. You never seem to talk about what you are feeling. Pippa told me about your diary, but I think you should get it out in the open.”

“So she has been reading it.”

“When we were at the lake, yes. Don't worry, she hasn't told me what you write, just that you're really brave. She's right about that, you know?”

“I'm not brave. “

Beth shrugged, “Have it your way.”

“What am I going to do?”

“The same thing we are all going to do. You're going to love her, and stay with her until the end, and then....” Beth trailed off and just looked at me for a minute, when she spoke again, her voice was choked, “and then we'll still be here for you, and you'll still be here for us, and we'll figure out how to go on.”

I nodded. I didn't want to talk anymore, so I just said, “Thanks for being a friend, Beth.”

“You would do the same thing, whether you believe it or not.”

I think Beth is asleep now. I don't know what happened to Maria and Gerry, but I'm sure they're off somewhere.

Part of me is still holding out hope that Sharon's just got the flu or something. The rest of me just keeps praying.



May 26th

When Sharon woke up yesterday, she was doing better; still achy and stiff, but better. She felt a little warm, but said she was feeling okay. She took her antibiotics, and had breakfast with us; us being everyone except Gerry and Maria.

Gerry made breakfast, like he does most days, but he didn't stay with us. He took his can of Beefaroni along with one for Maria and went to the librarian's office where Maria had slept.

While we were packing up to hit the road, Sharon hit the books again. She filled up one of the “I Support My Local Library” tote bags that they apparently sold with books to read. I wish I could believe she was going to live long enough to read them all.

It was another day of slow travel, we went through a pretty built up area, and had to deal with a number of abandoned cars, and a telephone pole blocking the road that caused us to have to make a detour and add something like two extra miles to the drive.

We tried to stay in the cars as much as possible in the built up areas, as there were a lot of zeds out there, and I think we're all a bit scared of facing off against them now. I know I feel a lot like I did when I first went face to face with one of those monsters.

It wasn't so bad once we were back into the more heavily wooded areas. They are strangely less creepy than the abandoned towns are, maybe because out here it is easier to believe that things are closer to normal.

I haven't checked the map, but I don't think we're more than another couple of days away from Lovelock, providing we don't come across something completely impassable.

We had just decided to start looking for somewhere to spend the night when Sharon complained of not feeling well. She looked even more pale than normal, and when I put my hand to her forehead it felt really warm.

“When did this start?” I asked her.

“A little while ago. I just need to lie down for awhile, and I'll be okay.”

I wish that were true.

Beth got Gerry's attention in the brown Excursion by honking the horn. He stopped, and got out of the car, sword in hand. Beth met him out between the two cars, and they talked for a minute. I don't know what they said, but Gerry looked over at us in the middle of the conversation, and then lowered he head and shook it slowly.

When Beth climbed back up into the car she said, “We're going to find a place. He saw a sign for a bed and breakfast a while back. We're going to see what that place looks like. Can you hold on for a little while longer?”

“Yeah, I just...” Sharon trailed off, “I'm sorry, you guys.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about, “ Beth said evenly.

I put my arm around Sharon, and held her close to me. I keep reminding myself of What Beth said to me; I have to stay with her until the end. I may have failed in keeping her safe, but I can't fail her now. I want to make sure she feels loved up until the end.

I keep telling myself that she is going to die, but I cannot fathom it. I cannot accept that she won't be in my life anymore. I can't understand why God would take her from me, from us.

Pippa looked back at us from the passenger seat, and I could see that her eyes were red again; she was trying not to cry, “I bet this place will be really nice!” she said, trying to sound hopeful.

Pippa was right, it is really nice, if a bit creepy looking; Norman Bates' mom would feel right at home here. It's a Victorian house' three stories tall with a wraparound porch. The outer walls are a kind of purplish blue, and the shingles look almost a dark purple. I suppose in a different situation it would look romantic.

The house is surrounded by trees, and I'm sure it's full of paths leading off to secluded little picnic spots. Part of me wishes I could have brought Sharon to a place like this even though it's totally not either of our type of scene. Maybe if I had spoken up.

There are also some zeds in the woods it seems, judging by the old man we saw shambling in front of the house. Maria was leaping out of the passenger side of the brown Excursion before Gerry had even come to a full stop, machete in hand. She charged the old zed, and swung the machete at him hard.

The blade looked like it hit the zombie in the side of the head, which snapped hard to the right. He fell to the gravel of the driveway, and Maria started hacking at him with her machete, raising it and bringing it down on her prey until she was satisfied it was dead again. Apparently the requirement for satisfaction was beheading, because I saw he kick her right foot hard, and the monster's severed head go flying off like a soccer ball.

Satisfied, Maria tossed the machete onto the ground, grabbed the old man's feet, and dragged him over to the edge of the parking lot. She stooped to pick up the blade again on her way back to the car. Gerry met her a few feet from the Excursion, having gotten out of the vehicle while she was dispatching the zed.

“You guys stay here, “said Beth, “We're going to check the house first. Pippa, if you see anymore zeds, just honk, and we'll come out. “

I could hear a snatch of Gerry and Maria talking while Beth got out of the car.

“-if there had been more of them? You need to be careful!” Gerry said sharply.

“Like anyone even cares if anything hap-” Beth closed the door, cutting Maria off in mid sentence.

“Everybody's upset because of me.” Sharon said weakly.

“No one's upset because of you,” I said.

“We're just upset,” Pippa said, “We all want you to be okay.”

“I'm sorry,” Sharon said softly.

“Don't be sorry, you're going to beat this, “Pippa smiled. I don't know if she really believes that or not. I wish that I could.

“I'll try,” Sharon said.

We sat there in silence, Sharon breathing shallowly against me, as the other three disappeared into what the sign over the porch declared was the “Lil Hidden Bed and Breakfast”. They were in there for what seemed like an hour, but it was probably only about ten minutes.

When they came out, Maria was carrying the legs of another body, while Gerry had it by the arms. This one looked to be an old woman; the man's wife maybe? She had a long dress on, and Maria kept catching it under her feet as they walked, and almost fell down the steps leading from the porch.

Beth kept looking from side to side, I assume for other zombies, as the other two carried the body over to the same spot at the side of the parking lot that Maria had dragged her first kill. I wonder if we will add to that pile.

The inside of the house is really nicely decorated; the wallpaper if a sort of country flowery thing, and all of the furniture is antique, and probably quite shiny under the layer of dust on everything. It's exactly the sort of place I would normally be afraid to touch anything in for fear of breaking stuff.

Amongst the ceramic figurines, vases, and knick knacks adorning most of the surfaces in the place there are a large number of oil lamps. Judging by the fact that they all have oil in the, and the wicks are all blackened. I am guessing they actually got used. Maybe, as secluded as this place really is, it suffered from power outages a lot.

I helped Sharon up to a room on the third floor. It has a big soft bed with a frilly flowery bedspread. The room is rounded for the most part, looking a bit like a castle tower from the outside. The fading light from outside was enough to see through the three windows once I pulled the curtains aside.

“This is so quaint,” Sharon said happily, but she still sounded exhausted. She was leaning against the door frame while I pulled the curtains.

“I don't think they had free WiFi though.”

“It's still cute.”

I pulled the bedspread off, a small cloud of dust came with it, and sat Sharon down. I removed her shoes, and had her lie down. I almost forgot to remove the pillow sham, which was also dusty.

“You stay put, I'm going to help the others unpack,” I said as I inspected the oil lamp on the fancy old dresser next to the door. It was about half full, so I lit it with matches from my satchel.

“You'll be back though, right?” she said in tired voice.

I looked at her, the flickering lantern light playing off of the lenses of her glasses, but adding some color back to her cheeks, “Yeah, of course, why?”

Sharon struggled to sit up, “What if they want to leave me here? I don't want to be alone,” she was starting to cry again.

“They wouldn't do that.”

“Maria might, she hates me.”

I thought on that for a second, “Fuck Maria,” I said, “The others would never let her do that. We're in this because of her.”

Sharon wiped a tear from her cheek, “Okay, just hurry back, please. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, and then to prove that I would be back I took off my satchel and placed it in the claw-footed chair with the embroidered seat next to he dresser. Sharon smiled at that, knowing I would not leave my bag behind intentionally.

Gerry caught me coming down the stairs to the bottom floor again, “You should check out this kitchen, “ he sounded more like the Gerry I've known for the last year, not the miserable person who has been avoiding me for the last few days.

He led me in, and it was really quite nice. The whole room looked totally out of place compared to the rest of the house. It was a fairly modern kitchen with a big stove, a grill, a huge stainless steel refrigerator, and a big double oven. The only things in the room that fit with the look of the rest of the house was the rack of cast iron and copper pots and pans hanging from a rack over the island at the center of the kitchen. And the large white sink under the frilly curtained window.

“Wow,” I said, “It is really nice. I bet some great meals were made in here.”

“Yeah, it's too bad nothing works anymore. Still the pantry has a lot of stuff in it that we can use, and there's a water pump out there than works, “Gerry pointed to the black metal hand pump on what looks like a wooden pallet at the edge of the overgrown prairie of a backyard. I could see some tables and chairs sticking up out of the tall grass.

“Water is a good thing to have,” I said, unsure what else to say.

“I'm sorry, man, “ Gerry said after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Pardon?” I said.

“I'm sorry about Sharon, and I'm sorry I've been avoiding you for the last couple of days. “

“It's okay,” I lied.

“Maria's sorry too,” he said cautiously.

I tensed, “Yeah, well so am I. That doesn't fix anything.”

“She didn't want this to happen, you know?”

“Then she should have put some effort in with Alisdair. Then we could have stayed there.” I almost threw his words about anything happening being her fault back at him, but I held my tongue.

“I know, and I think she finally knows now too,” Gerry said sadly, “Just try to find it in your heart to forgive her, it really isn't all her fault.”

I know it's not all her fault, and I'll forgive her for her part in this right after I forgive myself, and that's not really likely to happen anytime soon.

Gerry told me he was going to get a fire going in the parlor fireplace, and try to heat up some water from the well for washing with., so I left him to it, and went out to the cars to get some of our stuff.

I heard before I saw Beth dragging another headless corpse scross the gravel parking lot. This one looked to me a male in t-shirt and jeans. Almost a headless version of me actually. I wonder if zeds are going to be a big problem with this house.

“I got another one!” Beth panted, as she neared the growing pile of the dead.

“Are we going to be okay here?” I asked.

Beth dropped the body next to the others and dusted off her hands on her pants legs, “As long as we pay attention and don't get swarmed, or cemetaried if you prefer, we should be okay.”

“Do you need any help?” I asked.

“No,” she replied, walking over to the back of the black Excursion, “How's our girl?”

“She's not feeling well.”

“If you don't mind, I'll stop by later, maybe give you a break, okay?”

“I don't need a break from her.”

“I know, but you can't keep her all to yourself. I think we're going to be staying here for a few days, and the rest of us want to see her too, you know?”

“A few days?”

“Well, we discussed it, and-”

“Who is we?”

“Me, Pippa, and Gerry; and we decided that we are going to stay here while Sharon's sick.”

“But maybe she's not....”

“Maybe she's not, but she's still sick, and she needs to rest. And if she is, we should make her as comfortable as we can. This place has fresh water, and there are still some supplies that we can use in the pantry. I don't think we're going to find a better place, do you?”

I had to admit that I did not. I took a bag of clothes and the bag of books from the library out of the back of the Excursion and headed back upstairs. Going back into what may be our room for the rest of Sharon's life I found Pippa sitting next to her on the bed; they were hugging again.

“Oooh, hot! Can I join in?” I asked, placing the bags on the floor in front of the chair where my satchel still sat.

The girls pulled away from each other, “Disgusting pervert!” Pippa called, and laughed. Both of their faces were wet from tears; they had been crying again.

“Are those my books?” Sharon pointed to the “I Support My Local Library” bag, smiling, “Gimme, gimme, gimme!” her smile was beautiful.

I gave her the rather weighty bag of books, and she started taking them out and setting them around her on the bed, “Can you bring the light over here?” she asked me.

I took the lamp from the dresser, and brought it over to the nightstand next to Sharon. I put the electric lamp with its delicate glass shade from the table, and place it on the floor to make room for the oil lamp.

Pippa asked if she could take a book to read, and of course Sharon said yet. Pippa took a copy of “Personal Effects: Dark Art”, from which the library had either removed or lost all of the little things that came with it, and went back downstairs.

I lay next to Sharon on the bed for awhile as she read from “Nina Kimberly the Merciless”. She looked happy there in the lamplight, reading her book.

I think I dozed off for awhile, because the next thing I knew, Pippa was telling me that dinner was ready.

I went down to get something for Sharon, who agreed to stay in bed despite the saying that she was feeling a bit better. Dinner was chunky soup with rice that Gerry had found in the pantry. It took me two trips to bring up the food and glasses of room temperature tea that Gerry had made (more stuff from the pantry, I need to check out this pantry).

Sharon told me that I should eat downstairs with the others, but I wasn't going to leave her alone.

After we finished eating Beth came up and said that I should go downstairs for awhile and socialize. I grabbed my satchel and the dirty dishes and left. I only went because I knew she wanted to have some time with Sharon, and she was right, I cannot keep her all to myself; as important as she is to me, I know the others love her too.

I'm not sure who I was meant to socialize with, Gerry and Maria were out back doing dishes under the water pump and splashing each other with water.. This left only Pippa for me to socialize with, and she's laying on the couch reading. She did offer to let me sit on the couch by her feet, but I declined. Instead I found a nice old rolltop desk to write at.

While I've been writing, Maria did come into the room once. I pretended not to see her while she filled a bowl with some of the water from the two metal buckets Gerry placed in front of the fireplace to warm up. She left without saying anything to me.

Beth just came down and said that she and Sharon are done talking, and that I could go back up, so I guess I'll stop writing for tonight. I hope Sharon continues getting better; maybe this really is nothing more than the flu or something.



May 30th

Sharon is bad today. She's been getting worse quickly over the last couple of days. I haven't written because I don't want to lose anymore time with her than I have to. We cannot even pretend that we think this might be the flu anymore. Sharon has the zed virus.

I don't know if we should even still be having her take the cefuroxime, but what if it is keeping her healthier longer? What if stopping it makes the virus or bacteria, or whatever the fuck it is move quicker?

Oh God, why are you doing this to us?

I haven't seen Maria at all for the last couple of days; Beth and Pippa have both told me she's off in the little detached garage doing something. She has locked herself inside and won't let anyone in. Good, fuck her!

The zeds continue to trickle in, and Beth, Gerry, and Pippa continue to destroy them, I can see them down in the parking lot through one of this room's windows. I don't know what sort of watch schedule they have worked out with only three of them, since Maria is doing her own thing, and I am tending to Sharon.

I was awakened this morning by Sharon calling my name, and hitting me frantically with her hands. I shot up in bed next to her, grabbed her hands to both let her know that I was there and to make her stop hitting me, and asked her what was wrong.

“I can't see very well,” she said, weak but panicked.

“Put your glasses on.”

“They don't help,” she looked at me, “Is there something in my eyes? Can you see?”

Sharon's beautiful eyes were cloudy now. It was as if cataracts had formed overnight. “Yeah... I can see something,” I said after a pause.

Sharon dropped back down onto the bed and began sobbing. The one hint of normalcy she had left was being able to read. She spends most of the time sleeping now, but when she's awake she reads. She's too weak to do much of anything else.

I put my arms around her, and hugged her to me. She tried to hug me back, but could do little more than just lay her arms around me. Her fever is gone, but that is somehow worse, because her body temperature seems to be dropping. I hardly felt any warmth coming from her at all through the nightgown we found for her.

Sharon asked me to read to her, so that's how I spent today. Either watching her sleep, or reading to her. She had finished “Nina Kimberly”, and had started reading “Playing for Keeps”, a book I know she has read before because she borrowed my copy.

I read to her the adventures of Keepsie and her friends as Keepsie fights to keep her bar. The last chapter I read was getting close to the climax; Keepsie learned about the origins of Light of Mornings. I enjoyed reading this the first time back when it came out, but not so much this time. It's not the story's fault though.

I watch Sharon breath while she sleeps, waiting for her chest to stop rising and falling. It hasn't happened yet, and for that I am thankful. I realize that I am putting myself at a lot of risk by still sharing a bed with her, but I guess no one else has realized what might happen if she passes in her sleep.

I know I should get someone to watch while I sleep, or I should at least sleep in another room, but I don't want to leave her. I've hardly left this room at all in the last couple of days.

One mercy of this whole thing, at least so far, is that she has not complained of any pain. I don't know what I would do if she was in pain. I don't know if I

Maria just left. Not only did she have the nerve to show her face in here, but she came to tell me to kill Sharon. I want to hit something. I want to cry. I know what she said was reasonable, but I can't!

Maria knocked on the door, and I put down my pen to get up and answer it. I was not happy to see her, and what she had to say did not improve matters. She looked pale and tired, I don't think she's sleeping out there, or not sleeping well at any rate. No one is forcing her to stay in the garage though.

“Hey,” she said, looking doubtful.

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about something no one else has the guts to,” she seemed to find her resolve, her face still looked pale and tired, but now she looked determined.

“And what's that.”

“What are you going to do when she changes? She's going to become one of them.”

“Fuck you!” I said quietly so as not to wake Sharon, “Get the fuck out of here.”

“I'm serious. I don't want to see her like that, and I know you don't either. We can't leave her like that. If you want, I can put her down,” she said sincerely.

“You're not going to touch her!”

“So you're going to do it?” she asked. From the back waistband of her jeans, she pulled a Glock, and held it out to me.

“I'm going to take care of my wife.”

“Then take this. You'll want to make it quick. Trust me, it will be easier if you make it quick.”

I snatched the gun from her, “You get the fuck out of here before I use it on you. How dare you tell me to shoot her.”

Maria shrugged, her resolve fading, “I'd probably deserve it. I'm not telling you to shoot her now; you'll know when the right time is, but if you wait until she rises it will be something that will never leave you; seeing her like that will stay with you forever.”

I couldn't restrain myself anymore. I shoved her back away from the door, “Fuck you, you fucking murderer!” I slammed the door in her face. I was breathing hard, and gripping the gun in my right hand.

“What's going on, are you okay?” Sharon asked from behind me, her voice weak and sleepy.

“Everything's fine, honey, just go back to sleep.” I said through clenched teeth, trying to make my voice sound calm. I didn't bother hiding the gun behind my back, I doubt she can even see clearly enough to tell that I'm holding anything let alone what it is.

“Was that Maria?”

“Yes.”

“She's right.”

“You were awake?”

“Yes,” Sharon answered, “and she's right. I don't want to be one of those. I would come after you, or Pippa, or one of the others. I don't want to do that, and I don't want any of you to see me like that.”

“I can't shoot you.”

“You can, “she said, “and you will. If you love me as much as I love you, you will. I would do it for you.”

“Do we have to talk about this?” I asked.

“Yes, I don't know how much longer I have. I don't want to leave you, any of you, but there's nothing I can do about it. I don't want to spend a lot of time talking about it, so please just promise me that you won't let me be one of those things.”

“Sharon...”

“Promise me,” she said in as strong a voice as she could manage.”

“I promise....”

“Thank you, “ her voice sounded weaker than ever, as if yelling at me took a lot of her remaining energy, “Finish your writing, and come to bed, okay? Don't stay up all night, I think I'll be okay until tomorrow.”

“Okay. You get your rest honey.”

“I don't want to spend the rest of my life sleeping,” she said, her voice fading, “I'll be mellow when I'm....”

I rushed across the room to her when she stopped talking, but she had just fallen back to sleep, her chest was still rising and falling slowly. A smile had formed on her lips from her little unfinished joke. I leaned over and kissed those cool lips, and thought about all the mistakes I have made that wasted all the time we had together.

My chest feels like it's ready to implode. I wish there were some way I could trade my life for her. I wish I knew why God is punishing us. I wish there was some miracle cure we could find. I wish I could go back and do it all differently. I wish... I wish... I wish...

Oh God, why?

Forty-Fourth Entry: Once Bitten

May 22nd

We set out early the morning after my last entry. We wanted to have as much daylight as possible. It's not as if the zeds are more active at night or anything, it's just harder to see with no lights on.

Maria doesn't even care about what she's done; that this is all her fault. I know I have to take some of the blame for going with her, but what choice did I have? Could I let my friends, my wife, go out here own?

Maybe it wouldn't have made much of a difference though... maybe Sharon wouldn't have gone after all, maybe she was bluffing. Maybe I'm a fool, and now I'm paying for it.

The whole church turned out to see us off, our fellow Swords who we got to spend so little time with sent us out as if we had been friends for years. Peter hugged us, and Alisdair shook our hands. Camilleon even gave me a kiss of the cheek, which I'm glad that Sharon did not see.

Of course during all of this Maria was sitting in the brown Excursion sulking. I'm sure that, despite all of the shit she caused, they still would have treated her the same of us... well, most of them would have anyway; I think Peter still wanted to hurt her.

“We will let Lovelock know to expect you the next time we speak to them,” Alisdair reiterated for the umpteenth time, “I truly am sorry to see you go.”

“I'm sorry we're leaving,” I replied.

“If things,” Alisdair paused, seeming unsure how to continue, “if things change, you are welcome to return. I know you don't see much in yourself, but God sees a lot in you. You should be more confident in yourself; you're much more competent than you realize.”

I wasn't sure how to reply to that, so I just thanked him.

I know that I tend to be down on myself, but I didn't think I was that obvious. I've always had issues with myself because I am generally a failure at most things. It is more luck than skill that has gotten me this far, and it still eats at me knowing that, had I said something years ago, Sharon would have said yes to me, and maybe things wouldn't be like they are now. Any way you look at it, this is largely my fault.

So for the third time in recent memory, we got onto Interstate Five and left our sanctuary behind. We drove away from the town cleaned of garbage and wreckage, making it look almost like a movie set, and back out into the world.

It was not even a mile outside of Palma that we found things back to what we had been used to. The odd abandoned car on the road, the occasional fallen tree limbs evidence of small rock and mudslides. We had to stop frequently to get out of the car and clear debris from our path; tree branches as stuff mostly; luckily we did not run into anything we could not move, or go around or over.

We spent last night in a furniture store. It was one of those ones that you used to see more often in the eighties in a big warehouse of a building. No windows, a roll up door in the back to allow entry for trucks (or in our case, SUVs), and overall quite secure. Of course there was no power, and the water there did not work, but at least the beds were soft, if a bit musty smelling.

It was important to find somewhere secure to stay, as there were a number of undead roaming around. We had to kill a couple of them that heard us, or smelled us, or saw us as we were opening up the furniture store's roll-up door, but our swords did their usual fantastic job of dispatching the unholy in a silent, if somewhat messy, manner.

We did not unload much of our stuff, just some clothes, some food, our swords, and Pippa grabbed the record player and some records. After the noise of the people around us at the church it was a bit jarring to spend a night alone in the dark again, but the record player helped a little.

Pippa played DJ for us, going back and forth between genres in the single box of records she saved. She played some Crowded House, followed by Sinatra, Followed by Chopin (she stopped it once the funeral march came on), followed by Dead or Alive. It was as cheerful as things could be given the situation. It was the last even remotely good night I think I will ever have.

Maria of course still sat off to the side with her own lamp toying with one of those damned hand grenades she has. I wish Alisdair had not given those back to us. Part of me keeps worrying that she will accidentally set one off... or not accidentally. Part of me wants her to.

Sharon and I danced. Beth and Gerry danced. Pippa and I danced. Beth and Sharon danced. I think the only pairings that did not happen were myself and Gerry, and Maria and anybody.

Pippa and Gerry both tried to get Maria to join in, but she refused, ”I don't need your pity,” were the words I heard drift over from where they were trying to physically pull her off of a black faux leather sofa.

Before it got too late we decided to get to sleep. Beth sat up for the first shift to make sure we were safe. We kept in a close group so that we would be together in case of emergency.

This morning we hit the road again, once more we pointed the cars in the direction of Lovelock, Washington. More slow travel, more obstacles. It amazes me how fast nature seems to want to take back the world now that we have all but abandoned it. Grass is growing through the cracks in the roads and sidewalks. Areas that used to be landscaped are now masses of overgrown shrubs and weeds. It truly looks like a post apocalyptic world to me now.

Everyone in our car, Me, Beth, Sharon, and Pippa, were in good spirits. When we would stop to try and clear some blockage or another even Gerry seemed to be in a good mood despite having to sit with Maria. The only person who seemed miserable was Maria herself, who thankfully was keeping her mouth shut.

One worrisome thing was the number of zeds we were seeing. Where are they all coming from now? It's like every time we turn around there's another one coming up from behind us. We have gotten so used to not looking out for these things during the winter, and even during out time in Alisdair's church, that we are having trouble looking out for them.

I suppose it is ultimately our slip into comfort that is responsible for what happened. Surely it is a least partially Maria's fault for putting us in this position as well, she has to own up to some of this.

Of course it is also my fault. It is my fault for the way things have played out between me and Sharon. It is my fault for not being there when it mattered, for not protecting her. It is my fault that she is going to die now. If only I had told her I loved her before....

We had decided to stop for the night at a roadside hotel. The lure of sleeping on a bed was just too much for us to pass up. Had we known the price it would cost us, I'm sure we would have kept driving though.

The place was probably a dump before the end of the world, and a year of sitting empty and unmaintained has not improved it any. The sign out front is missing, probably broken during some winter storm if it was even these to begin with, but the name painted on the window of the office proclaims this to be The Breeze On Inn, and the office itself would seem to indicate the place was last remodeled sometime in the seventies; lots of browns and shag carpet.

The place was pristine, or at least a pristine as it likely ever was. Nothing was broken into or ransacked, the vending machine was undamaged, but mostly empty anyway, so maybe no one saw any point in breaking into it? Even the keys to all the rooms were neatly hung on the old fashioned cubby holes where people would get mail or notes that were left for them.

We picked up the keys to rooms one through four, which as it turned out are the ones farthest from the office instead of closest. I guess this makes sense if you read from left to right as the office is on the right end of the motel.

Rather than move the cars, we decided to just carry stuff down there. It's not like we were bringing in too much, some clothes, sleeping bags, butane stove and some food. Of course Pippa insisted we bring in the record player. I think she hates silence.

We didn't hear them at all; I'm not even sure where there came from. They may have been around the side of the building, or beyond the treeline at the edge of the parking lot; it doesn't really matter though. My first knowledge of them was Pippa screaming.

I looked over in time to see Pippa drop the sleeping bags she was carrying, and turn to run back towards the cars. She wasn't wearing her sword, none of us were. It was stupid, especially considering how many zeds we have seen in the last couple of days, but not a one of us strapped on our swordbelts before wandering around the hotel.

Coming towards us was a whole cemetary of zeds, a good two dozen of them at least.

“Zombies!” Gerry yelled out, and we all dropped what we were carrying, and dashed towards the car. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sharon come running out of room one, the room we are sharing. One of the zeds lunged at her as she passed it; it's fingers grazed her shoulder as she ran, her pigtails bobbing with each step.

We scrambled for our swords. We were horribly outnumbered, but we were confident. God was on our side. We were not mere survivors beating at these things with bits of pipe or fire axes, we were members of The Sword of Gabriel, and no unholy could stand against us. We were cocky, and prideful, and foolish.

Swords raised, except for Maria, who grabbed Gerry's baseball bat from where it sat in the back seat of the brown Excursion, we charged the rotting mob. I had that Lord of the Rings feeling again as we set upon our enemies. Our swords cutting through them like a weed whacker through tall grass.

The wet sounds of blades cutting through meat filled the air. I saw Pippa slice the thumb and first two fingers off of the hand of a female zed with dark matted hair as it reached for her. I saw Sharon stab forward with her sword, and slide into the throat of a male zed. The zed was unimpressed, and pushed forward, sliding down Sharon's blade.

Sharon started to back away, trying to pull her sword free from her attacker. I started towards her, intending to help when a baseball bat blurred through the air, and caught the monster in the face, knocking it back. At the narrow end of the bat Maria stood, grinning savagely. She raised and swung the bat again, and this time hit the thing in the forehead, knocking it backwards. It puled Sharon's sword down with it as it fell before sliding off, and freeing her again to attack.

I heard Beth yell my name, and turned to see what was probably a very pretty blond woman in life just inches from me. I stepped back while thrusting my left hand forward. I gripped her by the front of her grimy orange sweater, and shove her back while swinging my sword in my right hand. My razor sharp blade caught her throat, and tore threw it, not severing the head completely, but leaving it attached only by a piece of flesh. Another zed hit the pavement.

It seemed to go on for hours, but it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes as we hacked through the uncoordinated ghouls who dared to attack us. It wasn't until we were down to the last two or three that it happened.

My back was to her, and I was dispatching a middle aged bald man when Sharon yelled out, “Motherfucker!”

I turned to see Sharon with some hippie in a brown leather jacket with the little fringe on it, and a raggedy ponytail right up on her. She was pushing away with her sword. I yanked my sword free from the bald man's eye socket and charged.

It was a lot like when I attacked Maria on the road all those months ago... it seems like such a long time, but it's only been a couple of months, hasn't it? I was no longer a person, but a freight train. I barreled into the hippie zed, knocking it fully off of its scrawny formerly vegan feet.

The hippie fell to the ground on its stomach, and before it could roll over I drove my sword through its back, and felt the tip of the sword dig into the blacktop on the other side of the beast. I began stomping the back of its head, feeling the impact through the sole of my boot; finally feeling the bones crack and crunch under my repeated attacks.

When the hippie stopped squirming I turned back to Sharon. She had switched her sword to her left hand and was looking at her right. I saw blood.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

Sharon looked at me, her eyes wide with terror, magnified by the lenses of her glasses. She held her right hand out to me, I could see blood on it, “I think I need a cleric,” she said in an unsteady voice.

It was like my insides had been turned to lead and dunked in liquid nitrogen. I stepped over to her, and took her injured hand in my left hand, “Did it bite you?” I asked.

“I-I-I,” Sharon stammered, “I don't know.” she was starting to breath heavy as the fear overtook her. Inside me my own fear and panic were raging against the bars of the cage they had been locked in for most of the last year. It tried to get out and get control, but I couldn't let it; I wouldn't let it.

I grabbed Sharon's wrist, and started walking fast towards the cars, yanking her behind me. I did not run, I was trying to remain calm. It hadn't really sunk in yet what this meant, but the realization had hit certain parts of me.

When we got to the back of the black Excursion, I released Sharon's hand, and started digging through our supplies. I tossed a bag of clothes out onto the ground, and a box of food, trying to find the right box.

“What are you doing?” Gerry called.

“Are you okay?” I heard Pippa ask.

I heard two sets of footfalls on the surface of the parking lot as I searched, and ignored them both. Sharon must have shown them her hand though, because I heard Pippa gasp.

“What happened?” Pippa said, her voice unsteady.

“I don't know,” Sharon answered.

“Did you get bit? Is that a bite?”Gerry asked.

“I don't know!” Sharon was on the verge of crying now,” I was fighting one of them, and it got close to me, and when I tried to shove it away I felt a sharp stab.”

I found it then, the box with our meager medical supplies. A glorified first aid kit with bandages, an actual first aid kit, some boxes of gauze pads, and what I wanted, a couple of bottles of hydrogen peroxide. I grabbed one, and turned back to the others.

Beth and Maria were now making their way towards us, Beth looking worried. Gerry and Pippa were looking at Sharon's bloody hand. Gerry looked shocked, and Pippa looked on the edge of crying.

I unscrewed the cap of the brown bottle of disinfectant, and dropped it into the back of the car. I grabbed Sharon's hand away from Gerry, and splashed the peroxide on it. The peroxide washed away the blood as it fizzed, leaving behind two small fizzing wound on the back of Sharon's hand, right by her pinky.

“ That could just be a scratch, right?” asked Pippa, “Maybe one of those things had a zipper on their clothes or something?”

Beth was looking at the small wounds now, “Those look like teeth,” she said, sorrow playing across her face, “Did you maybe hit it in the mouth or something?”

“I might have,” Sharon was terrified now, tears started running down her face. I felt that same fear too, but no tears.

“ That's not enough to get infected though,” Pippa said, hope in her tone, “I mean on the news they had been saying the infected had been badly bitten. Those are just scratches. That's not enough to pass on the infection, is it?”

“I don't know, “ Gerry said quietly.

“We could cut it off to be sure, “Maria suggested.

“Shut up!” Gerry said without looking at her.

“I'm just saying, it works in the movies,”

Gerry turned on her, “Shut the fuck up, Maria!” he snarled.

Maria took a step back, and then turned and headed for room three; her room.

I took Sharon to our room while the others cleaned up the mess I had made. I washed her hand with some of our drinking water, then with the hydrogen peroxide again, and then more water. She was shaking badly as I was.

I heard one of the Excursions' engines start outside, and drive off as I packed the small wounds with gauze, and wrapped the whole hand with a bandage. Sharon was quiet during this whole process. I'm sure she didn't know what to say anymore than I did.

There was a knock on the door to our room, “Come in!” I called in as steady a voice as I could manage.

Pippa opened the door, “Gerry and Beth went looking for a drug store. They want to get some antibiotics.” She closed the door behind her.

“It's almost dark,” Sharon said, noting the dimming light coming through the windows. We would need to light candles or a lamp soon.

“They didn't want to wait until morning,” Pippa explained, “Are you feeling okay?”

“I think so,” said Sharon, looking at the bandage on her hand. Frankly the bandage was overkill for such a small wound; I know the amount of bandages I used won't make a difference between whether or not she is infected, but I didn't know what else to do.

Pippa and I sat with Sharon on the bed for awhile, none of us speaking. Sharon was still shaking, and breathing quickly. I wanted to calm her down; to make her feel better, but how do you comfort someone who may have just received their death sentence?

There was another knock at the door. Since we had not heard the car come back, I figured it must be Maria. I did not invite her in, but instead went to answer her knock, not wanting her to start anymore of her crap and make Sharon feel worse.

Opening the door, I found no one there. I looked out of my room, and saw no one, but I did hear another of the motel room doors close quietly. Looking down I saw that there was a mostly full bottle of bright red cherry flavored vodka sitting there. It was a brand I had had before, cheap and sweet. Maria must have either had it, or found it somewhere in the motel.

Accepting this bottle in no way meant that I in any way forgive Maria. I think I can forgive her no more than I will ever be able to forgive myself.

“No one there?” Sharon asked as I turned with the bottle of red liquor in my hands and swung the door shut behind me.

“Just this,” I said, holding up the bottle, “Want some? It might help you relax,” I offered.

Sharon looked at it, “Cherry?” she asked.

“Indeed, lucky you, eh?”

Sharon chuckled unconvincingly, “Yeah, lucky me.”

I took one of the plastic wrapped cups that had been placed in the bathroom long ago by some housekeeper who is likely now dead, and filled it halfway with vodka. Sharon gulped it down, and then held the cup out for more.

After the second cup she seemed to stop shaking. I laid out our sleeping bags on one of the room's beds after discarding the tacky rough polyester bedspread, and Sharon laid down. In about ten minutes she was snoring softly.

Have you ever noticed that all hotels, even nice ones, seem to have the same nasty polyester bedspreads? I mean, I've never stayed in a thousand dollar a night hotel or anything, but I've stayed in places that were not total flops like this, and still they had these same ugly rough bedspreads.

Pippa went back to room four, the room she is sharing with Beth, a short while after Sharon went back to sleep. I wasn't feeling terribly talkative, and I think it made her feel uncomfortable.

Before leaving, Pippa offered me the record player, but I declined it. She told me to come get if I changed my mind, and gave me a hug, “She's going to be okay, right?”

In that moment Pippa looked every bit the child she is. I wanted to tell her yes, I want the truth to be yes, but instead I said, “I hope so.”

I sat there in room one until it was full dark without lighting the candles that Sharon had brought in before the attack. The moonlight coming through the window was enough for what I was doing, which was just sitting there and watching Sharon sleep.

After a time I heard a car's engine, and knew that Beth and Gerry were back. I heard rapid footfalls outside, and then banging on the door. Beth was calling my name.

I rose and answered the door, “We got something,” she said holding up a large white bottle. In the dim light I could make out the word Cefuroxime on the label, but couldn't read the smaller print on it.

Gerry came up from behind her, “We found a pharmacist's reference that said this is used for sepsis, and that seems about as close a comparison as we could come up with,” he explained trying to look cheerful.

We woke Sharon up, and made her eat something, and take one of the blue pills. I wish one of us knew anything about medicine. What if this makes her worse? What if it does nothing at all? Surely someone tried antibiotics on infected people before, right?

Sharon said she was feeling okay, just sleepy. That could easily be from the vodka though. After taking her pill she fell back to sleep, and Beth and Gerry left.

Before leaving, Beth put her hands on my shoulder and looked up into my eyes, “This isn't your fault. Even if she really is infected, this is not your fault.”

I nodded, but didn't say anything. Beth is wrong, but I wasn't in the mood to fight.

“Maybe we got the meds in time, maybe the bite is too small to actually infect her. Maybe it's really not even a bite. Don't give up on her yet, okay?”

Again I only nodded in reply.

Beth bit her lip, and looked up at me with sad eyes; I don't think she believed what she was saying anymore than I did, “If you need to talk, or if you need anything at all, come talk to me, okay? Don't do anything stupid.”

I nodded.

“No, promise me. Promise me that you won't do anything stupid.”

Trying to be funny, I said, “Well I suppose it depends on how you define stupid, but I won't try and do anything.”

Beth smiled, “Okay, I guess that will do. If anything happens during the night, you come get us.”

Once Beth was gone, I sat down at the little writing desk in the room and started this entry while drinking a bit of the cherry vodka; it's really sweet. The walls here are thin, and I can hear Gerry and Maria arguing next door. I can't make out all of the words, only bits and pieces.

“-my fault?” I heard Maria ask.

“-told you that anything-” Gerry yelled, “-responsible! “

“-assuming she's... just a scratch!”

“-fucking hope so, because if... as well have killed her yourself!”

I can't get my head around this. Is this what Merritt went through? Is this some punishment on me for judging him? Is Sharon being punished for something? Ego? Some other sin? What? I know that I'm not a good person, but I can't deserve this, and sharon certainly doesn't.

Please, God, don't take her from me. I know it is selfish, but please. I'm sure you have some reason, but you've already taken so much, please don't take her too. You took Tara from me, you took my home, and my entire life. Please leave me this one last thing, please don't take her.

Please just let it be a scratch; let us be panicking for nothing. I'm sure we will learn something from this if she's okay. We'll not take the zeds so lightly. I'll try and be a better person, please!

Please don't take Sharon.

Please don't take my wife.

Please, God.

Please, God.

Please, God.

Please.

Forty-Third Entry: Cast Out

May 19th


Well that didn't take very long.

She did it; it took her more than a month, but Maria finally managed to push shit too far and get us kicked out of Alisdair's church. To be fair she really only got herself kicked out, but....

It's not going to be easy to leave all of that behind. We have people other than the six of us to talk to. We have clean clothes, like cleaned in a washing machine clean. We have hot water not heated over a fire, and electric lights, and music not on vinyl, and all of the other things we used to take for granted.

We really did plan on staying here. We had unpacked the Excursions and everything. Our food supplies have been added to the church's, our weapons cataloged and secured, our fuel supplies added to those of the church, and our other possessions moved into our sleeping areas. Pippa even found herself a boyfriend, although I just found out about that.

In the last couple of weeks Maria has managed to piss off pretty much everybody here, and ruin every attempt at trying to make her feel welcome and get her to put in some effort for the whole group. She has been rude, combative, and downright horrible to pretty much everyone.

I really wish I understood what the hell is wrong with her; what her damage is. Once she realized that the female Swords would not fight her she did start on the men. It is a testament to the serenity and discipline the more experienced members of The Sword of Gabriel have that no one had knocked her into next week. I know if she kept on me like that I would have hit her... again.

Speaking of discipline and serenity, Gerry puts me to shame. He really is the only friend she has left in our group (which is not to say that Sharon and Pippa aren't still trying), and he is also the only one she seems to have any respect for. She looks at me and Sharon with utter disdain, Pippa is still a little afraid of her after our first day of sword fighting practice, and whenever she's around Beth the two of them look like they are one off comment away from getting into a fistfight.

It's going to be real fun once we're on our own again. I mean it's not like we don't have a target in mind, someplace where maybe Maria won't be such a problem. I don't know what we'll do if she is. I don't know if Gerry has it in him to do what he said he will.

It all went down like this; we've spent the last few weeks trying to settle in here. Alisdair has continued to have us go on runs to exterminate zeds (or the unholy, as he prefers). He's even been trying to teach us to ride motorcycles, although not with their Harleys and Indians, but with dirtbikes. It's been going pretty well actually, I wouldn't want to get involved in a car chase or anything, but I feel pretty confident about staying up on two wheels now.

We've been having zed sightings every couple of days now. I don't know what it was like up here last year, but this is almost as bad as it was last summer in Covenant. Still, with us going out in force we have not even had any close calls; every run is an absolute slaughter. It's a real confidence builder.

While we have been doing this, Alisdair has been trying to get Maria involved in something, but she resisted all of his efforts to get her to contribute. When he tried to get her to help in the farming efforts she managed to flood an entire field of corn, and that may still die.

When Maria was assigned to kitchen duty she managed to somehow over salt canned soup, making that night's dinner nearly inedible. I guess we should just consider ourselves lucky that it was salt, and not something worse. She probably couldn't get her hands on any laxatives.

I'm not even sure what the hell Maria was doing when she managed to knock Marty's forge over. That probably would have been the last straw for us if she had managed to actually ruin it, or set the place on fire. Thankfully the forge was cold when it happened.

As I have written before, there are some pretty strict gender separation rules around here, but let me elaborate on them now. There are four “dorms”, which is to say areas for sleeping. There's the men's dorm, the women's dorm, the married dorm, and the family dorm for couples with kids (there are three families in there). In order for me and Sharon to sleep (in the literal sense) together, we had to get married (and that is going fine, thank you).

Maria, in another attempt to anger people (Alisdair in particular, I assume), decided to just go waltzing into the men's dorm one morning last week. It's not so much that she particularly offended any of the guys, but her blatant lack of respect for Reverend Thomas' rules is what angered people.

I asked Gerry what her issue is, and he says that he doesn't know, “I've begged her to talk to me, but she won't. She won't tell me why she has been acting like this, why she wants to make Alisdair and the Swords angry. Why she seems to be mad at the rest of you,” Gerry explained to me, “She's pretty normal with me, but she just kind of shuts me out as soon as I start talking about that kind of stuff.”

The final straw was two days ago. Maria stole one of the motorcycles from the parking lot, and started riding it around the church, tearing up the grass, driving through one of the new vegetable fields, and scaring the hell out of people. As if all of that weren't enough, she finished her display by riding into the church building, into the chapel, and driving the bike through the reverend's podium, and crashed into the ten foot tall cross at the back of the stage.

By the time I got there, Peter was pulling Maria out from under the big cross, which had fallen over onto her, the bike, and the band's drum kit. Peter was pissed, and was holding Maria in the air by the collar of the dark green sweater she was wearing, her feet dangled a good six inches off of the floor.

“Peter!” I yelled, pushing past the others who gathered to see the damage. He looked like he wanted to put her through the wall.

Peter turned to look at me, “This is too much,” he said, although I am not sure if it was at me or Maria.

“You don't want to do that, man,” I said, trying to defuse the situation, “If you do, you'll regret it later.”

“Oh, I do want to do it,” Peter said, this time looking Maria in the eyes, “but you are right; I would regret it later.”

Peter placed her down on her feet, “Are you injured?” he asked, his voice straining to remain even.

“Like you care,” Maria replied.

“I care about all of God's children,” more straining in his voice,” No matter how misguided or ill-behaved they may be.”

Reverend Thomas arrived at this point, “What is going on here?” He asked in genuine shock as he surveyed the scene.

“The troublemaker desecrated the chapel, reverend,” Peter answered.

Alisdair looked past Peter and Maria to the splintered stump that used to be the base of the cross. He looked at the broken top of the cross, the damaged motorcycle, and the crushed drum kit. He looked at me, and a sad look came into his eyes, and he signed heavily, “Peter, please take Maria to classroom three, and keep her there until I come for her.”

Peter nodded, placed a hand on Maria's shoulder, and shoved her forward none too gently.

When Peter and Maria had left the room Alisdair walked up to me, “Please gather your friends and come to my office. We need to talk about her future with us.”

On my way out of the room, I was nearly bowled over by Gerry, as he came running down the hallway, “Where's Maria?” he practically yelled at me.

“She's okay, but Revered Thomas wants to see us in his office.”

“Shit. I knew this was going to happen,” Gerry answered, and continued past me without any explanation.

It took me a few minutes to track everyone down. Beth and Sharon were out back dueling with practice swords, and I found Pippa playing Barbies with one of the few children here, a little girl named Latonya. Gerry was already waiting in Alisdair's office when we go there.

Once we were all in his office, Alisdair rose from his desk, crossed the room, and gently shut the door, closing us in. Without speaking, he returned to his desk. He looked sad and a little conflicted.

“So I suppose we all know what happened by now, right?” Reverend Thomas asked in a gentle voice. We all nodded a reply.

“I've tried talking to her, but she won't open up to me, reverend.” Gerry said.

“I know you have; you have been as good a friend to her as anyone can expect, but she still shows no sign of changing,” Alisdair replied, “In better times I would have been willing to give her as much time as would be necessary to find out what is tormenting her so, but these are not better times.”

“So what are you saying?” Beth asked.

“This is not a decision I have come to lightly; in fact it is one I have been trying to not have to make almost since you all arrived here. Maria's behavior is inexcusable, and it is putting the lives of the other people seeking shelter here at risk. Not only is she unwilling to help out around here, but she seems determined to ruin things for everyone. She needs to leave.”

“What?” asked Pippa, “You're kicking her out?”

“You're turning your back on her?” asked Sharon.

I said nothing; this is pretty much what I expected when Alisdair asked me to get everyone together. I could tell that this was hard for him to do.

“You can't do that, reverend!” Gerry yelled, as if he had been expecting this too.

“I don't want to; I have never turned away anyone seeking my help before, but she is endangering the lives of those under my care. What if she had hit someone with that motorcycle? Never mind that she stole it, never mind the complete contempt she showed by riding it through my chapel, and never mind the damage she caused; she could have seriously hurt or killed someone.”

“But she didn't,” Gerry stated.

“Thank God,” Alisdair said, “but she will eventually. I have to balance the chances of helping her against the potential hazard to my flock. She needs to go. She may take whatever supplies she wishes, one of the SUVs you showed up in if she wants, but she needs to leave. She doesn't want to be here.”

“Then we're going with her!” Gerry said firmly; and then not so self-assured, “Right guys?

Gerry looked at the rest of us, a look of desperation on his face. I know what he was thinking; he thought we would say that Maria could just fuck off and die, and a huge part of me wanted to say just that. I may even have done so if not for Pippa.

“I'll go with her,“ Pippa said softly.

“What?” asked Beth, her face a display of shock and anger.

Pippa looked like she was getting ready to cry, “We can't let her go alone. It's horrible out there alone. She'll die alone.”

Sharon put an arm around Pippa, “She's a strong woman,” she said.

“She's my friend,“ Pippa said, a tear running down her cheek.

“She's not either,” Beth yelled, “She wanted us to turn you away! She wanted to leave you out there alone!”

“I know. I heard your conversation, but we can't do that to her. She needs us.”

“She hates us!” Beth said

“No she doesn't,” Gerry chipped in, “She's just hurt somehow. We've all been hurt,” he focused on Sharon, “We didn't abandon you!”

I couldn't let that go, “She wanted to.” I said.

“She doesn't know what she wants. Please, guys!”

Alisdair kept quiet during our argument. I think he knew what decision we would eventually come to; why else meet with all of us to tell us he was kicking her out? He didn't want to influence our decision any though.

“We'll go with you,“ Sharon said, and then looked at me, took my hand in hers, and squeezed it, “Right?”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“She's sick too,” Sharon's eyes sparkled through her glasses at me, “Maybe not sick like I was, but she is sick. We can't abandon her.

'You people are fucking crazy!” Beth almost yelled, and then looked at Alisdair, realizing what she had said, “Sorry, Alisdair.”

Alisdair just nodded a reply.

“You said there's another settlement, right? Lockheart or something?” Gerry asked.

“Lovelock, yes. Depending on the road conditions it is probably a two or three day drive from here now.”

“We can try there then, maybe Maris will get better there,” Gerry so clearly wanted to believe this, but wanting something to be true doesn't necessarily make it so. I guess we'll find out though.

“But what about what we have here?” I asked Sharon.

“We've had each other since the beginning, and we've done fine. We need to stay together. When it has really mattered Maria has always been there.”

“And if I say I'm staying?” I asked.

“Then I'll have to go without you,” Sharon said, her face sounding lie she felt the same pain at that answer that I felt in my heart.

“You would choose her over me?” I asked, a little shocked on top of the hurt.

“The man I love wouldn't make me choose.”

Ah yes, fantastic. A guilt trip! It's not like I was going to let Sharon go off with them without me, so what choice did I have but to say, “I'll go with you then.”

Beth looked me in the eyes, her mouth hanging open, “Seriously? After what she put you through? After all the things she said?”

Sharon reached out and placed a hand gently on Beth's shoulder, “She's one of us, Beth. I know you understand that.”

“But we fit in here. We are part of a group again. We are wanted here; no one is trying to kill us. We can have a life here.”

“Could you really sleep at night know that she's out there alone?” Pippa asked.

“Yes, I'm sure I could!” Beth replied, and then more softly, “But I couldn't knowing that you guys are out there. “

“So you'll come with us?” Pippa asked.

“Yes; someone has to keep you guys safe,” Beth turned from us to Alisdair, “I'm sorry, Reverend, I wanted to stay.”

“And I wanted you all to stay, but I cannot chastise you for doing right by your friend even if I am personally unhappy with your decision. I am sorry that I failed Maria so completely that I put you in this situation.”

“Isn't there anyway I can change your mind?” Gerry asked, “She's just not well, and I don't know what is wrong with her.”

“I recognize that she is ill, but the only thing that any of you could do would be to get Maria to give her word that she will make an effort. She has not tried to fit in since the moment you all got here, and maybe it is partially my fault, my way of handling newcomers is a bit heavy handed, and I could have handled our first practice a bit better,” Alisdair acknowledged.

“Still, I have tried to make amends for those things, I have tried to make her feel a part of this community, but I have failed in all of those attempts. Nothing could make me happier than for her to solve whatever her problems are and become a part of this group. She is in classroom three if you want to try; I will wait here for you to return.”

With that, we set off for the school area. Aside from holding Sunday services, The Church of Christ's Light also did early childhood education, Preschool to third grade classes were held here, so there are six classrooms up on the second floor. One of them is the family dorm, one is still used to try and teach the few kids that are here, but the other four go mostly unused.

Classroom three was not hard to find, it was just a matter of finding the room being guarded by the giant scowling black man. He looked curiously at us as we came down the hall.

“So what did Alisdair say?” Peter asked.

“He said we can stay if she will promise to try, “ I answered.

“'We'? He's making you all leave?” Peter asked in disbelief.

“No, but some of us won't let her go alone, even though she clearly doesn't give a sh-, doesn't care about us,” Beth said bitterly.

“I will wish you good luck, but I doubt it will do you any good. I'm going back to the Rev's office, please don't leave her unattended; she might try to burn the whole place down.”

Peter left the five us us standing outside of classroom three unsure how to continue. We looked at each other, as if each of us was thinking on how to best approach her.

Finally Gerry spoke, “Would you guys mind if I talked to Maria alone? I think it might give us our best chances.”

I certainly didn't know what to say to her, so I just shrugged. The rest of the group just kind of mumbled our agreement. I don't think any of us thought we had any chance at all of getting her to pull her head out of her ass.

“Wish me luck then,” Gerry said.

When Gerry opened the door, I got a momentary glimpse inside the classroom. Maria was sitting at a short table in a chair that was clearly meant for someone much younger than herself. If it weren't for the fact that our future was on the line, the scene would have been comical. Actually, it was comical anyway.

After a few moments, Pippa out her ear up to the wooden door.

“What are you doing?” Beth asked.

“I want to hear what's going on,” Pippa whispered.

“Don't you think we should give them some privacy?” Sharon asked.

“Yes, but I also want to hear.”

“Fair enough,” said Beth, and put her ear against the door too. Not wanting to be left out, Sharon and I crowded against the door so that we could hear as well.

“-st tell me what is wrong?” Gerry asked.

“Nothing's wrong, Gerry,” Maria answered, “I don't belong here.”

“But you are screwing this up for everybody, don't you understand that? Alisdair is going to tell you to leave.”

“Then that sounds like things will get better for everybody. They all hate me anyway.”

“No one hates you, “ Gerry replied, “They just don't like who you've become; how you've changed.”

“I haven't changed. My goal is the same as it ever was; survival.”

“You have changed. You've been a complete bitch since Christmas, and you've progressed from bitch to spoiled child since we got here. Alisdair just wants you to be part of the group, and that's all I'm asking of you too.”

“If you think I'm so horrible, then you'll be glad to see me go too.”

“I don't think you are horrible, Maria. I think you're sick.”

“Oh fuck you!”

“No, Maria, fuck you! This needs to stop before someone gets killed over it. Just tell Alisdair you will try, and then do it. This is a nice place, and it's more stable than Mallville ever was.“

“This place is a joke; as if God is protecting these people. They survive based on the same things that have kept us all alive this whole time. Luck and their our own skills. They did not get those skills from God!”

“Is that what it is? Are you mad because this is a church? Since when are you not a Christian? I've seen your place, I know you're a Christian.”

“I was a fool, that's all. I know better now.”

“So you're mad at God? You've been putting us all through this shit because you're mad at God?”

“There's no God, Gerry. No benevolent being would do this to his people. If there ever was a God he's dead and gone, or he just doesn't give a shit. Either way, I'm not wasting one more second on the bastard!”

“If that's all your problem is, I'm sure Alisd-”

“If that's all my problem is? You make it sound like I disagree with his choice of paint colors. I disagree with the idiotic fairy tale that Reverend Thomas is feeding all of you. I am not going to take part in this bullshit.”

“What if Alisdair was willing to leave you out of the religious stuff then? What if he let you eat alone so you wouldn't have to say grace? What if he excepted you from Sunday services?”

“So your solution is for me to make myself an outcast here anyway?”

“You have been making yourself an outcast; no one here has done anything but try to include you, and yet the only person you don't treat like crap on your shoes is me. Just make an effort. Stop sabotaging things, stop trying to pick fights with the Swords, stop trying to ruin things for everyone. If you can just act civil then things will be okay.”

“No, if the good reverend thinks the Christian thing to do is tell me to fuck off, then I will, no problem,” there was a crashing noise inside the room as Maria overturned something, or threw something onto the floor

“Then we're going with you. All of us.”

“What? Why?” Maria sounded genuinely puzzled.

“Because, believe it or not, we are your friends. Pippa, Sharon, everyone would rather put themselves at risk than think of you out there on your own.”

“Thats... that's ridiculous.”

“That's the way it is. The only way to keep us all safe is for you to stop being such an ass, or at least try.”

“No, if you all want to throw in with me, then do so. It's your decision, I'm not asking for your help, and I'm not taking responsibility for you. “ the meanness returned to her voice.

“Fine, Maria. If that is your final choice then that is what we'll do. I want you to keep something in mind though, whatever happens now is your fault; we are all your responsibility now. Anyone who gets hurt is on your head. We'll make for Lovelock, but when we get there, if we get there, you had better knock this shit off. If you fuck things up for yourself there, and they want to kick you out I will not fight for you again. This is it Maria, I love you like a sister, but this is it!”

“Gerry,” Maria started.

“No! Not another fucking word! Whatever happens next is on your head, you keep that in fucking mind the next time you act shitty towards any of us. You keep it in your head that we are all willing to risk death for you!” Gerry yelled, and he sounded on the edge of tears. There was another crash, presumably from Gerry knocking something over.

“Stop being so dramatic!”

“I am not being dramatic. I am going to hold you responsible for every cut, bruise, and scratch that anyone gets on the road, because it is all you!”

We all jumped back from the door as we heard Gerry's feet clomping across the classroom floor. He threw the door open to find all of us trying to look inconspicuous, which is of course the worst way to not look guilty.

Gerry scowled at each of us as he slammed the door behind him. He put his hands to his face to wipe at his eyes for a moment.

“Didn't go well then?” Asked Beth somewhat smugly.

“Fuck you, Beth, I know you were listening,” he replied crossly, “So are we all still in agreement to go with her?”

Sharon and Pippa both nodded, while I shrugged noncommittally. I don't really want to go with her, but I'm hardly going to let Sharon go without me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to her because I wasn't there.

Beth shook her head slowly.

“What?” asked Pippa, “You're staying here?”

“No, I'm going with you,” Beth said sadly, “I just can't believe we're doing this. This is insane. We stayed at Mallville while being attacked by a gang and being threatened by Kaur, but we're going to leave what we have going here because Maria is acting like a petulant brat? It's insane.”

Gerry, still cross, turned on Beth, “No one is making you go!”

“I've stuck with you guys this long, I'm not leaving you now,” Beth smiled, “That doesn't mean I have to be happy about this though.”

Gerry stayed outside classroom three while the rest of us went back to Alisdair's office. Alisdair was less than surprised to find out that we had not been able to convince Maria to change her ways.

“So are you still all sure that you don't want to let her go on her own?” Alisdair asked solemnly.

We nodded our replies, even Beth.

“Okay. I'm not going to lie to you, I am truly disappointed to be losing you all, but standing by your friend is the right thing to do. I have told Peter to retrieve your weapons, have you gas cans refilled, and get you a couple of weeks worth of food and water. It should be more than enough to get you to Lovelock.”

“So I guess this means we're out of the Swords then?” Sharon asked.

“No, it just means that you will be spreading our mission to Lovelock. Maybe this is what God wants; maybe He just wanted me to train you, and send you on to fulfill your purpose elsewhere. Your swords are yours to keep, and you will always be considered members of The Sword of Gabriel.”

It was decided that we would leave in the morning; tomorrow morning. We spent the early evening loading up the cars. I think we are leaving with almost as much food and water as we came with, but then water in particular is not such a big deal here.

One thing I did not realize is how much we are carrying around in the way of firepower. We've got quite a bit of ammo, but I know that it will run out fast if we start using it on a regular basis. Besides, I kind of like my sword. I can't really figure out how to describe how I feel about it; the best way I can think to put it is that when I am holding my sword I feel like I have the entirety of The Sword of Gabriel standing behind me.

Yeah, I know that sounds dumb, but I really can't think of any better way to put it.

Alisdair told me that they would be letting Lovelock know that we are coming in their next radio communication, and that he expects to be told when we've arrived safely. I hope we'll be able to do that. I feel a bit of hesitation about hitting the road again after a month in relative comfort and safety.

So I mentioned before that Pippa has herself a little boyfriend (did I just write that? I am getting old). I discovered this when I was heading up to the bell tower to write this entry. It's clear out there tonight, and I wanted to get one last look at that view under the moonlight. Unfortunately someone had a similar idea.

When I got to top of the stairs, I found that the hatch was already open. I poked my head through and saw Pippa and a boy named Mark leaning against the waist high wall with their mouths glued together.

“Oooh!” I said mockingly, and maybe a bit cruelly, “Pippa's got a boyfriend.”

Pippa jerked back from Mark so hard that for a split second I thought that she would fall out of the bell tower.

Pippa yelled at me, “Get out of here, you pervert!”

I retreated down the stairs, singing the whole way, “Pippa and Mark, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

“Jerk!” Pippa yelled after me.

I ended up in classroom five, surrounded by children's drawings of flowers, and Jesus, and angels. I wonder how many of the kids who drew these pictures are still alive?

I'm going to get to bed now, Sharon's probably wondering where I am. I'm sad to be leaving all of this behind, but it's not the first time I've lost my home, right? As long as I have Sharon though, I think I can face anything.

Tomorrow we venture once more into the unknown; into a world that looks both familiar and alien. I hope Maria appreciates this, but I doubt she does.

Goodnight.

Forty-Second Entry: The Blushing Bride

April 25th

We're still here at the Church of Christ's Light, but I'm not sure for how much longer. Maria has been acting up a lot here. I guess she's not into the whole Christian thing, but doesn't she realize she is ruining this for all of us? Let me take things in order though.

That first night here was rough. It's not that Alisdair, any of the Swords, or even any of the other survivors here did anything, it's just that there were some, lets say, personality issues.

The first problem happened right before dinner; Maria picked a fight with one of the female Swords; a woman called, and I can only assume this is irony, Little Nell. I don't know what the issue even was, but they were yelling at each other, and then Maria took a swing at the woman. This was a bad move as the woman looked like an Amazon, and caught Maria's fist full in the palm of her hand, spun Maria around, slammed her against a wall, and then wrenched her arm up behind her back so hard I thought she was going to dislocate Maria's shoulder. I felt her pain, as it's almost the same thing Maria did to me when I attacked her.

“Get off me, you bitch!” howled Maria.

“You will watch your language in the house of the lord!” Little Nell growled back at her.

A small group immediately formed around them as the Amazon continued to pull on Maria's limb.

I pushed my way through the group, “Let her go!” I demanded, looking up into the slightly tan face of Maria's attacker.

“You're with her, aren't you?” Nell asked.

“Yes,“ I answered, “Just let her go; I'm sure whatever happened was just a misunderstanding.”

“What's going on here?” I heard Alisdair shout from across the room, I turned and saw him, Peter, and Gerry running across the dining hall towards us.

The Amazon let Maria go, and shoved her into me, “Just teaching someone a little respect, Alisdair.”

“There will be no fighting in this church!” Alisdair responded.

I grabbed Maria by her left shoulder and ushered he through the growing crowd, “What did you do?” I asked.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Maria responded, and shoved me away with her good arm. Maria stormed away.

Gerry came up to me, “What happened?”

“I don't know. Maria attacked that woman for some reason.”

Gerry shook his head, “I'll go talk to her.”

I'm not sure what Gerry said to her, but Maria seemed to calm down for awhile. I guess I should have seen that as the omen of things to come.

The second and, to me, worst thing happened later, after dinner. Alisdair offered to show me and Gerry to the men's quarters and have one of the women lead Pippa, Beth, Maria, and Sharon to the women's area. Sharon did not take well to this.

“No!” Sharon yelled, and grabbed my arm, squeezing it painfully.

“What's wrong, hon?” I asked.

“I'm not leaving you!” she said, her eyes tearing up.

“I'm afraid you'll have to for the night,” explained Alisdair gently, “I don't know what your sleeping arrangements were before, but I cannot allow an unwed couple to sleep together. You're not married are you?”

“No,” Sharon answered, starting to breathe quickly, “But I can't leave him.”

“You'll both be okay,” Alisdair tried to reassure her, “and you'll have your other friends with you. You will see each other in the morning.” He smiled what was undoubtedly his best comforting smile, the kind reserved for people dealing with tragedy.

“Nooooo,” Sharon moaned.

“It'll be okay,“ Pippa said cheerfully, tugging on Sharon's arm, “Come on, it'll be like a sleepover.”

“I'll see you in the morning, hon. Everything will be fine.”

“Don't leave me!” Sharon pleaded, and a weight came crashing down onto my heart.

“I'm not leaving you, I'm just going to be in another room. We need to go by the reverend's rules,“ I tried to reassure her, knowing that all eyes in the room were on us.

“Then lets leave!” Sharon insisted, “We can find shelter somewhere else for the night!”

“Come on, Sharon,” Beth said, grabbing her arm and pulling her more forcefully.

“Fucking crybaby,” Maria spat, earning her a stern look from Peter.

“Watch your language, “ Peter cautioned her.

“Yeah, whatever!”

It tore me up inside to see Sharon like this. It was as if all of the progress she's made in the last few months was being undone in moments. She was regressing; a thought that was re-enforced the next morning.

Beth and Pippa did eventually manage to get Sharon to go with them, but tears were streaming down her face as she went, and she kept her eyes locked on me until she was out of the room, and oh God did that hurt.

I didn't sleep too well that night; I guess I've gotten used to having someone next to me all night again. Of course the fact I was sleeping on a cot in a room full of dudes may have had something to do with it too. Those cots rate somewhere between sleeping sitting up in the car and sleeping on the floor.

It wasn't until I went down for breakfast that I found out just how bad a shape Sharon was really in. I found her, Pippa, and Beth sitting at the end of one of the long tables that probably used to play host to pancake breakfasts and bean suppers.

Beth saw me enter, and rose from the bench seat and came over to me, “Thank goodness you're here,“ she said, “Sharon's bad.”

“What's wrong?”

Beth looked tired, “Sharon sat up all night crying. Pippa and I tried to comfort her, but it didn't work. She wanted to be with you.”

That was like a dagger to the heart. I didn't realize that Sharon was still so fragile. It's been months since she's been like this, but one night alone and she reverts right back to it? This is really distressing.

“Did Maria do anything to her?” I asked..

“She called her a crybaby, “ Beth shrugged, “but then she went off to find another part of the room to sleep in. I don't think she made the situation any worse though.”

Beth led me back to the table, and I sat down next to Sharon. “Honey, you okay?” I asked.

Sharon turned to face me, her eyes glassy and distant, her face still wet with tears. Upon seeing me, it was like a switch was flipped; her eyes focused and she lunged at me, throwing her arms around me so hard that I nearly fell backwards off of the bench.

“Don't leave me again!” Sharon said far louder than I would have liked. Once again people were staring at us.

“Sharon, you're okay. I was just in another room.”

“I was scared!” she said, crying again.

I tried to remind her that Pippa and Beth were there, but it didn't seem to make any difference. Unfortunately amongst all of the survivors here, none of them are psychiatrists; I asked.

Sharon eventually calmed down, and I told her I would talk to Reverend Thomas about any solutions to this problem that did not involve us leaving the church. I did talk to him later and he had one suggestion:

“The only way I could let the two of you sleep together would be if you got married. If you were married you could sleep in the married couple's dorm,” Alisdair explained to me in his office.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“I'm afraid so. If the two of you want to get married, I will perform the ceremony for you. Obviously it will not have any legal standing, but I don't think that really matters anymore.”

“You would marry us, just like that? Aren't you supposed to make sure that we're serious, and that we're going to tough it out and all that?”

“Yes, but there's a couple of reasons why I don't see any problems here,” Alisdair explained, “First of all we don't live in that world anymore. The reality is that God could call any of us home at any time now, so realistically there's less of a chance that you would not stay together.”

I nodded, “And the second reason?”

“Your friend, Phillipa, came to talk to me first thing this morning; she had the same question you came here with, and she got the same answer. I asked her to tell me about the two of you, and what your relationship is.”

“Well she has only been with us the last couple of months,” I explained.

“I know, she told me, but she told me stories that she has been told by the rest of your group. She told me that you risked your life to save Sharon's when she was trapped in a hotel, and that you stuck by her even when things between the two of you were bad, and you were seeing other people.”

“Pippa also told me that you took care of Sharon while she was in a vegetative state, and that you attacked your friend Maria because you did not like the way she was treating her. She told me that you covered for Sharon even when she tried to kill you while in the midst of a hallucination.”

Pippa: I know you have been reading this. I'm not sure how you found this journal, but it is not for you to read. If you have questions, please talk to me. If I catch you in my satchel I will make you regret it. Love ya!

“So based on all of that, I think the two of you have as much a chance of success as anyone,” Alisdair said, “I can see by the look on your face that you understand that this is not a decision to make lightly, which further tells me that I am right about you.”

“I'm not looking to rush you, son. You take some time and think about it, ask Sharon what she thinks about it, and let me know when you make a decision. If you decide to go through with it, I'll do it. Just make sure that it is what you both want.”

I thanked Alisdair for his time, and went off to think. Did I want to get married? I've certainly dreamed of marrying Sharon for years, and settling down and raising a little geek of our own, but is marrying her because she might go crazy if I don't a good reason to do it? Alisdair seems to support the idea, so maybe it's a message from God.

Then there's that feeling that I am somehow betraying Tara's memory again. Not only did I hook up with Sharon two months after Tara's death, but then two months later I'm getting married to her? I will say that I have not had anymore of the Tara dreams, so maybe it is the right thing.

I spent a lot of the day sitting up in the bell tower, which interestingly does not actually have a bell in it, but a series of loudspeakers. The view from up there was really nice, and the spring breeze was refreshing. I'd say it was quiet but the sounds of Marty's rhythmic hammering and his rock music kept floating up to me.

“I'm waiting, waiting, for you to call my name. I'm waiting, fixated....”

It is a good place to go think, so it was no surprise when Someone interrupted my solitude.

“The Rev told me that I might find you here, “ came the voice of Peter Atrayus as his head poked through the hatch leading down to the stairs, “He said you'd either be here or in the library. Have you made a decision yet?”

“Is this the topic of discussion today around here or something?” I asked.

“Honestly, yes. Between your lady, Sharon, right? And that Maria woman your little group has made quite an impact around here in just one day.”

“What did she do now?” I asked.

“If you mean your girl, well she's been looking for you, but she seems okay; nothing like this morning anyway. As for Maria, she's tried to pick fights with Camilleon and Mighty Mur.”

“Is she hurt badly?”

“Nah, those two aren't going to rise to it. She is wisely staying away from Little Nell though. Nell is still struggling to find her inner serenity. That's not what I'm here for though. I'm here to see if you need someone to talk to.”

“Not really. I just need to work this out for myself.”

“Okay then. Just know a couple of things. The word has spread and a lot of people are hoping you go through with it. We celebrate life and God's love everyday, but a wedding would be a nice break from routine. Also, the young one, Pip?”

“Pippa.”

“Yeah, her, she says you guys have done your fair share of fighting against the unholy, so tomorrow we'd like to evaluate your skills a little. We can always use more fighters, even if you don't want to become full members of the Swords.”

Peter started to head back down.

“Peter!” I called to him.

“Yeah?”

“If you see Sharon, can you tell her I'm up here?”

“Sure will,” Peter replied before his boot clad feet started clumping down the stairs.

It only took a few minutes before Sharon's voice called my name from the stairs below, “Up here!” I called back.

Sharon came up through the hole in the floor, and smiled when she saw me. Her eyes looked a little distant, and my heart twinged at that. It was just too close to the look her eyes had during her bad period.

“What're you doing up here?” she asked.

“Thinking.”

She stood next to me, and looked out of the bell tower, “Wow, nice view.”

“Sharon, can I ask you something?”

“Okay, “ she said a little hesitantly, and then turned to face me.

“I need to know what you want to do about our situation. I don't want to see you like this, and certainly not like you were this morning or last night, so we need to do something.”

Sharon looked puzzled, and a little sad, “I'm sorry. I'll try and be better.” This was not the Sharon I have loved for so long, this was some sad little whipped puppy who seemed to think I was scolding her, as if I had any right to.

“I'm not mad. I just don't want to see you in pain, so we need to decide what to do.”

“I just don't want to lose you,” she replied.

“I know. I need you to focus for a minute here, okay?”

Sharon nodded in reply.

“Our choices seem to be these. We can do what we did last night, and risk seeing you get... sick again, we can leave and try to find shelter elsewhere, or we can get married.”

Sharon tilted her head as if unsure what I was saying. Her eyes were starting to tear up.

“I think it's safe to say that neither of us want a repeat of last night, yes?”

“I was just scared, I'm sorry.”

“I know, and I don't want you to be, so we can rule that out, “ I said, trying to keep myself focused, “And I'm not going to ask the others to leave with us if we leave, so that leaves one option.”

I dropped to one knee in front of Sharon, the girl I've loved for so long, the girl I lost because I let opportunity after opportunity pass un-taken, and took her hands in mine, “Sharon Sparks,” I said, “Will you marry me.”

Sharon looked down at me, her eyes seemed to focus and unfocus like the lens of a camera, as if she was seeing me one moment and looking through me the next. She frowned for a moment, opened her mouth to speak, and then stopped. She opened it again and said, “Are... are you serious?”

“Yes. I've lost you three times already, and I don't want to lose you a fourth. I think we've ended up here for a reason, I think this is the right thing to do, and Reverend Thomas already said he would do it if that is what we wanted. Then we could stay together in the married couple's dorm.

Sharon looked down at me, her face switching back and forth between states of confusion and understanding, “So you want to marry me? Even though I'm....”

“You're the woman I have loved for so many years, “I said, which I suppose was not the whole truth, but I knew that my Sharon was in there; I had seen her only twenty four hours before.

“But I'm... I'm sick,” fear crept into her eyes as they unfocused.

“You're still you.”

“Okay, “ her eyes focused again, “but I'm keeping my name,” Sharon smiled at me, and pulled me to my feet. She put her arms around me and kissed me.

We went down and told Alisdair of our decision, and to say he was overjoyed would not be an exaggeration. He must have already been setting things up in anticipation of our doing it, because within the hour he was ready.

The wedding was a simple thƒing; not at all what I had imagined my wedding would be like (although to be fair, I had imagined my wedding involving cosplay). Almost all of the other survivors at the church were there.

Gerry was cast in the role of my best man, and even had a ring for me to put on Sharon's finger (he explained that Alisdair had given it to him, and that apparently it was in the church's lost and found). On Sharon's side stood Beth with Pippa as the maid of honor; Maria had disappeared during all of this.

An older lady with glasses played the wedding march on the piano in the band section as Sharon made the long walk down the auditorium sized chapel's center aisle. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans instead of a white dress (or, say, Yomiko Readman cosplay), but she had been given a veil to wear.

Alisdair kept the ceremony short and traditional; no sermons or anything. When it was time, Gerry handed me the ring, and I slipped it onto Sharon's finger. The ring is a little big for her, but not so much so that it is likely to slide off or anything.

Til-death-do-we-parts said, Alisdair declared us man and wife. As we kissed the audience of total strangers, many in black leather, cheered us. With that I said goodbye to being a bachelor, and hello to wedded bliss. Now we just need to find a little house with a white picket fence to settle down into.

There was of course no time for a proper honeymoon, and I think all of the airlines have gone out of business anyway. We did get to move into the married couple's dorm though, which seems to have been a large storage room on the second floor. Curtains have been hung from the ceiling to divide the room up for privacy.

We share this room with five other couples, all of whom seem nice enough. We're not sleeping on cots in there either, but on an air mattress on the floor. I think I preferred sleeping bags on the floor, but Sharon seems happy with it; she's not had any issues since then.

As Peter promised me, the next day was spent with him, Alisdair, and some of the other Swords trying to decide what to do with us. We retrieved our weapons from the cars, and assembled in the church's gymnasium.

Alisdair, Peter, and Marty looked over out melee weapons, and while they did not really criticize any of them directly, they did seem to get a chuckle out of the Uruk-hai swords. I'm not sure how a bunch of bikers with broadswords strapped to their backs have room to mock, but then maybe they just liked Lord of the Rings too.

We demonstrated how we handle our chosen weapons, and they tried to give us pointers on how to use them more effectively. Peter showed me how I have a lot more control of my sword if I keep both hands on it instead of wielding it like a club. For Gerry they suggested maybe switching to a child's bat so that he could use it more like a club.

After seeing how we fight against air, they seemed somewhat impressed, and gave each of us a wooden sword and a football helmet. The sword were marred scuffed up items that had seen a lot of use, as were the helmets. Football helmets seemed a bit of an odd choice, but I guess they did not want to scuff up their motorcycle helmets.

“I don't think these will do much good against the zeds,” Maria commented.

“They're not for fighting the undead,” explained Peter with forced patience, “They are for fighting each other. Pair off and duel.”

“What?” asked Pippa.

“We don't really do a lot of fighting against other living people,” said Gerry.

“Not hand to hand anyway,” added Beth

“If you can best a living opponent then you should never have a problem against the unholy.” explained Alidair.

We paired off, me with my lovely wife, Maria with Pippa, and Beth with Gerry. We started sparring, slowly at first, but then swinging faster and striking harder as we got used to the new weapon in our hands.

The sound of wood clacking against wood was the only noise breaking the silence out there. Aside from that it was incredibly peaceful out there just a couple of hundred yards away from the curch building, but this quiet was also largely due to the lack of Marty's distant hammering and music.

Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Pippa struggling to hold her own against Maria. Pippa was fast, and able to block or dodge all of Maria's strikes, but she was definitely on the defensive. Not for the first time it occurred to me that Maria may have had some previous training in this sort of thing.

I had been holding my own against Sharon just fine, but between being distracted by Pippa and Maria and the memories of having lightsaber duels in Tara's geek cave I was not fighting as well as I could. This resulted in my deflecting a blow towards myself instead of away.

Sharon swung down at me, and I brought my practice sword up to block at a bad angle. Instead off her blading sliding off the end of the sword and away from me, it sled down the blade, skipped off the hilt, and hit me hard in the right side of my head. I think if not for the helmet I would have been injured, wood blade or not.

Sparkling flashes filled my eyes, and I went down onto the soft grass.

“Oh no!” cried Sharon, and dropped to her knees, “I'm sorry! Are you okay.”

That was enough to distract Pippa; she let our a yell, and went down also. When my vision cleared enough I saw her laying on the ground, clutching her left leg where Maria had dealt an apparently vicious blow, and Maria was standing over her with the tip of her sword at Pippa's throat.

“Okay, stop!” called Alisdair.

Peter moved faster than someone as big as he should be able to, and with one big hand shoved Maria backwards and away from Pippa. “What's wrong with you?” he demanded.

“You have to win to live, right?”

“Peter, please tend to our other injured brother,” Alisdair said.

Peter glared at Maria, and then came over to where I was now sitting up with Sharon trying to release the catch on my helmet.

Alisdair walked over to Maria, and in a single smooth motion stooped down to grab Pippa's sword off of the grass and raised it before him, ”Miss Perez, you are a bully.”

“I don't consider doing what keeps me alive bullying.”

Sharon finally succeeded in getting my helmet off, and was feeling the side of my head. I guess she was looking for a lump to be forming or something.

“This young lady was no threat to you. You clearly had her outclassed, and she is not your enemy in any case.”

While Alisdair and Maria were facing off, Peter was asking me questions like how many fingers he was holding up, what my name was, what my wife's name was, where I was. The sort of stuff you always see people do in movies when they are trying to tell if someone has a concussion.

“Furthermore,” continued Alisdair, “she is your friend, and your ally. I know that you are afraid of what has happened to the world we live in, but if you do not start treating those who care about better you may find that there are worse fates than death.”

“Whatever,” Maria replied, her eyes narrowing at the reverend.

“How about you try someone who may be a little bit more of your skill level?”

Alisdair swung Pippa's sword suddenly, aiming for Maria's helmeted head.

Maria's eyes widened as she brought her sword up to block Reverend Thomas' strike, and stumbled back a step. Alisdair pushed his assault, swinging at Maria again and again, and now she was the one on the defensive, losing a half step of ground with each blow she blocked.

Maria's expression was a mix of fear and anger. She couldn't find an opening that would allow her to even take a single swing at the battling preacher. For his part, Alisdair was the epitome of a Jedi, Tara would have been so impressed. Alisdair, no helmet on his head, and no real expression on his face continued his assault on someone I once considered a friend like a machine.

Maria tried to kick her attacker in the leg, but it was as if Alisdair had been waiting for this. He brought his blade down and under her striking limb, caught her from behind, and pulled the sword up. Maria was thrown off balance, and went down on her back. With a flourish, Alisdair gave the blade a swing through the air, and then brought the blade, stopping the tip just at Maria's chest where her helmet ended.

“You don't fight with honor, do you?” Alisdair asked, pressing the tip of the practice sword into his fallen opponent's throat.

“I fight to win.”

“You fight yourself,” said Alisdair, and pulled the sword from Maria's neck.

Maria sat up, and rubbed her throat, “I trust myself, and I'm still alive,” She climbed to her feet, and tossed aside her practice sword, “This is bullshit. Zeds don't fight with swords.”

I started to say something about baseball bats, but Maria was already stalking off.

“There's a lot of anger there,” said Alisdair, not pursuing, “You are good people to take care of her.”

“She wasn't always like that, “ explained Gerry in Maria's defense.

Peter was satisfied that I was not going to keel over, and practice continued, but without me or Pippa, who sat next to me on the grass rubbing the red welt on her leg (a welt that had bloomed into a dark purple bruise by the next morning). We watched our friends, old and new, continue to battle.

Sharon paired off with Beth now, and watching them was like watching a dance. They seemed almost perfectly matched, but it wasn't just skill that made it almost entrancing to watch. It was beautiful, not in the horrifying way that seeing Sharon kill those two security officer with a shelf was, but in a sensual almost erotic way. Maybe I'm just weird though.

Gerry on the other hand had paired up with Alisdair, who continued to duel without a helmet. He didn't need one. He was blocking Gerry's attacks like he was Neo or something. He never took a swing at Gerry, letting him stay on the offense, but Gerry never got a successful hit either.

We did this for the next few days, all of us except for Maria that is. Maria made herself scarce, and I only saw her during meals. She still kept trying to pick fights with the female Swords, but by last night they all ignore her now. It's a wonder that one of them doesn't kill her; none of them may be as big as Little Nell, but any of them could probably hand Maria her ass. I hope she doesn't get it into her head to start pissing off the guys next.

Up until yesterday we were just practicing with Peter. Marty was back to his blacksmithing and Alisdair was attending to whatever other number of things he must have to do to keep this place running as well as it does. Peter is a scary fighter, and I would not want to be up against him for real; hell I'm afraid of fighting him even in practice.

We were settling into a nice training routine, tiring and painful, but nice all the same. I enjoyed spending time with the others without having to worry about food, or firewood, or zombies, even if that time is spent trying to take their heads off while they try to remove mine. This all changed yesterday.

Practice was occurring as normal, Alisdair and Marty were there again to see our progress. Alisdair even took a turn against each of us, and though he defeated us all easily, he managed to do it without actually hurting us. How does someone become a sword-fighting motorcycle-riding preacher? What chain of events could possibly have led this man down that path?

Alisdair was critiquing us when we heard a motorcycle engine thrumming in the distance. A minute after the noise died, a stick figure of a man with a weasely face dressed iu motorcycle leathers came running across the grass towards us.

“Reverend Thomas!” the weasel man yelled as he ran, “Alisdair!” .

“What is it James?” Alisdair asked.

James came to a stop in front of the reverend, panting from his run, “Unholy, Reverend, maybe two dozen of them in town, coming up offa the highway!”

“Then I think it is time, “said Alisdair, “What do you think Peter, Martin, are they ready?”

“I think they're ready for the real thing, “said Peter, smiling.

“They seem worthy to wield my steel,” said the wild haired blacksmith.

“I suppose I should have asked this before, can any of you ride?” Alisdair asked.

“I can ride a bicycle,“ volunteered Sharon.

Alsidair nodded, “Well, at least we will save on fuel. Come with me.”

Alisdair, Peter, and Marty led us back to the main church building, and over to Marty's blacksmithing set up, which looks like something that you might see at a county fair, which is probably where it was most frequently seen before.

The tent covering most of the work area (except for the forge, which is exposed to allow the smoke to vent away from it) was flapping in the gentle breeze as our three trainers went around behind one of the big wooden work benches and emerged with five swords sheathed in rough brown leather belts like the ones that the Swords were wearing when we first saw them.

“When I first met you all, God told me that you were good people. That you were people who know loyalty and the light of our lord,” said Alisdair, holding one of the sheathed swords out in front of him in his hands, “ That you would help us battle the unholy. With one possible exception, it seems that He is correct, and so I ask you now to join us in our quest to rid the world of the unholy and protect my flock. Will you join The Sword of Gabriel in this quest?”

Finishing his question, Alisdair held out the sword in his hands to Gerry. Peter flanked him on one side, holding swords out to me and Sharon while Marty held a pair out to Beth and Pippa on his other.

The five of us looked back and forth at each other. It was Gerry that finally broke the silence as he reached out to take the sword from Reverend Thomas, “I will join you.”

“So will I,” answered Sharon, taking one of the swords from Peter.

“And I,” I answered in a voice that almost certainly did not sound as cool as I wanted it to.

“Me too, “ said Pippa, taking the sword eagerly from Marty.

“Then I guess I will too, “said Beth, taking the last sword.

“You are now members of The Sword of Gabriel; may the lord protect you, and may you always serve him well,” said Alisdair in the same voice that used to declare me and Sharon mand and wife..

The swords were lighter than they looked like they should be, or we have just built up some arm strength from practicing over the last few days. These were short swords, not the Buster Sword by any means, only coming to about three feet in length from the tip of the blade the the bottom of the hand grip, and they had an amazing amount of shine for something made in such a simple setting. I guess traditionally swords have generally been made in simple settings though.

I pulled my sword from its sheath, and held it over my head, “By the power of Grayskull! I have the power!” I said quietly, although that didn't stop everyone from looking at me since I had my sword held high. Sharon giggled.


After our induction into the Swords was over we were told to go out to the parking lot and wait by the bikes. Swords in hand we walked around the church to the parking lot where our Excursions still sat where we parked them, all of our supplies still inside them. Despite his request that we share our supplies, Reverend Thomas has yet to even ask us for an inventory of our gear.

I'll admit that as we waited by the motorcycles, I was a little nervous. I have never ridden a motorcycle, and it's probably been almost a decade since I've even been on a bicycle. Were they expecting us to ride, or would we be allowed to take a car? Neither... sort of.

A few minutes later a dozen of the other Swords came out; the majority of them looking the role of biker a lot more than any of us do. Peter and Little Nell were carrying black leather jackets and helmets in their massive arms.

“Since you all still need to learn to ride, you will be riding with more experienced members,“ Alisdair announced.

“But not without the proper gear,” Peter added, motioning with the armload of equipment.

We were each given a leather jacket and a helmet to wear, I think my jacket may have belonged to Peter, because it was actually too big for me. We all looked a little silly in what can only be described as costumes when facing our far more authentic brothers and sisters.

Strapping our sword belts (Baldrick? That sounds right to me) across our bodies didn't do much to make us look any more genuine, but I will say that the weight of the sword on my back did make me feel more confident.

We rode on what is called, I believe, the “bitch seat” of the motorcycles. Not the most dignified form of travel, and with our drivers' swords between us and them, not the most comfortable either. Of course even with the physical discomfort aside, it was still awkward.

Gerry rode with Little Nell, who made him look somewhat like a child on the back of her bike.

I rode with a woman called Camilleon, who has more normal proportions than Nell, and whose prominent feature is easily her hair. The color is just a normal dishwater blond, but there's so much of it and it's so thick that it seems unable to lay flat without her helmet to push it down. I think you could dunk her head in water, and the hair would still be incapable of laying down completely.

Mighty Mur was the name of the woman Sharon rode with, a small thin woman with glasses and shoulder length straight hair. Beth rode with Peter, and looked if not unhappy, at least displeased at doing so. Pippa rode with Alisdair himself, and of all of us, she looked the happiest. I don't know if she has a crush on him, or if she was really just that excited at the whole situation.

I have to say, discomfort aside, the ride was exhilarating and short. I think if we're going to do that again I will ask if there are any sort of goggles or anything that I cat get, as I couldn't really see anything between the wind in my eyes, and Camilleon's wild hair blowing out from under the edge of her helmet and into my face.

We ended up outside the towns only Apollo Coffee at the edge of the freeway. There were easily two dozen zeds, and they really did seem to be traveling together. I still wonder if this is a sign of some sort of intelligence, or if they all just follow the movement of the first one. I guess I would need to know what sort of intelligence those things really have.

We stopped a short distance from the zombies, and got off the bikes. The zeds saw us, or at least heard the sounds of the motorcycle engines, and were starting to head in our direction. Instead of charging the undead, our more senior Swords started to form a circle; they motioned us forward, and we all joined hands.

“Lord, today we go to battle for you,” Alisdair began, “I ask that you guide our blades to aid us in our quest to remove these abominations from your Earth. Please watch over us as we watch over each other, for we struggle in your name. Amen.”

“Amen,” the others replied; myself, Sharon, Pippa, Gerry, and Beth were all about a half a beat behind them.

The more experienced Sword members drew their blades from the sheaths on their backs, and started to stalk forward towards the approaching zeds, forming a solid wall of black leather and shining metal. We were half a step behind them again; they obviously have a routine for this stuff that we will have to learn if we are to keep doing it.

In a flash I suddenly felt like I was in Lord of the Rings; with a defiant roar, the members of The Sword of Gabriel tore into the small zombie horde. The only thing missing was rousing orchestral music to drown out the sounds of swords hitting flesh and breaking bones. It sounded like someone was hitting a watermelon with a meat cleaver while someone else was snapping stalks of celery.

I cannot do this scene justice, because I just really did not see all that much, and what I did see was a blur. I saw Peter behead a zed with a single, almost effortless looking, blow. I saw Sharon slash a zed across the eyes. I saw a balding zed impale itself on Pippa's blade, and keep coming at her until Little Nell grabbed it by the back of its dirty shirt, yank it back off of the sword, throw it to the ground, and stomp its throat.

Maria was right about one thing, fighting the zeds is different that fighting each other. The training with the wooden swords was great for getting used to the feel (either our real swords are modeled after the wooden ones, or vise versa) of having the sword in hand, and how to handle it, but the way you use it against unarmed zeds is totally different. I'm not saying that the training was useless, just that it maybe doesn't totally apply.

Of course what point would there be in just having us hack away at dummies or something?

I got to take down two of the zeds myself. One, an older Asian man, went down after a sharp blow to the side of his head that took off the top half of his left ear. The other was a short, probably blond once upon a time, woman who I got in the throat. At a diagonal that cut halfway down to her chest. The attack must have severed her spinal column, because she dropped, sliding off of my blade as she went.

I wonder if the fact that some of these things may have been undead as long as a year now added to the harsh winter weather that these things seem to have hibernated through has had some effect on their bodies. Maybe it's just the sharpness of these blades, but my sword seemed to smash through bone a lot easier than weapons did when I first joined the scavengers. Maybe these things are just rotting; maybe pretty soon the first generation of zeds, the ones risen just after the appearance of the Zed Virus, will fall apart on their own.

Of course I thought the freezing weather would destroy them too, so what do I know?

It's kind of hard to characterize our slaughtering those zeds as anything other than fun. That's right, I said fun. Looking back at how I felt after my first run ins with the zombies last year and how I feel facing off against them now, it's totally different. I feel little fear, and no real revulsion at what I am doing anymore. I feel I am doing what is right... maybe God really did send us here.

The battle was over in all of five minutes, after which we dragged the zeds, and their parts, into a pile, and Peter doused them with a can of lighter fluid he had in the saddle bag of his bike. While Alisdair led us in prayer, Peter set the pile of corpses on fire, and stood watch over them as the smoke rose into the sky.

Watching the bodies burn took longer than the actual battle did by a lot, but with Alisdair leading us, it felt like the right thing to do. I don't know if I believe that these things are soulless though, because it felt like we were freeing the people they used to be from the flesh cages of what they had become.

We returned to the church after all, and Marty showed us how to care for our new swords; yes, they are ours to keep. He told us to keep our fingers off of the blades whenever possible, and to always clean and oil them as soon as we can after use, otherwise they will rust.

I have to say that I feel happy right now. I've married the love of my life, and it seems we have found a new home. I still feel sadness in my heart for all we have lost, and all we have been through; I feel sad when my mind drifts to Tara. I cannot dwell on those things right now though, because I think we have found a new life, and it looks like it will be a good one.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go spend time with my wife.