The Bloodless Page 11

  “I know you do and I know you’re coming back,” Crist said, returning to her brisk, assertive tone. “Wanna know how I know that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Because I’m coming with you.” Crist turned around and walked back into the shack.

  “Oh no you aren’t,” Justice said as he followed right behind her. “It’s too dangerous. You’re staying here.”

  “The hell I am,” she retorted as she dressed at top speed. “You think I’m just gonna sit around here and worry while you’re out there putting your life on the line?” Now dressed, Crist spun around and looked Justice dead in the face.

  “That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” he said as he took his mask off and gently sat her down on the bed behind her. They were in the corner of the shanty they considered the bedroom. A makeshift wardrobe where Crist had pulled her clothes from stood in the corner at the foot of a queen size mattress. The mattress took most of the space in that corner but they figured they wouldn’t be inside very much. The rest was pretty basic: galley kitchen that was barely used and a small common area where a tattered futon was used as the primary seating structure.

  “I can’t stand that,” Crist protested, “I can’t stand not knowing.”

  “Look,” Justice said in a calming voice, “it’s not that kind of meeting. I’m just going to get some recruiting points that he thinks I need to visit. That’s it, then I’ll come right back.”

  Crist did not look reassured but she looked on the verge of compliance. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “Sit here and twiddle my thumbs until you get back?”

  “Well, if you really want something to do,” he began tentatively as he didn’t much care for ordering Crist around, “you could always make improvements around this place.” Justice waved his hand through the air.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Crist replied in a half-hearted, somewhat defeated voice.

  He looked down at his watch again, “Okay,” he said, “I have to get going if I want to be on time. Fox hates tardiness.” He bent over and kissed her on the lips, she grudgingly kissed him back. He put his mask back on.

  “Be safe,” Crist said as Justice stood back up, “and come back.” Justice’s eyes twinkled, indicating a smile and then he walked out of the shack, closing the door behind him. Crist threw herself back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, a tear fell smoothly from her eye and rolled down her cheek.

  *****

  The time that showed on Crist’s watch told her it was getting late into the day. The darkness outside her shack was steadily becoming denser, another sign of looming nighttime. She stood outside looking around the area for any sign of Justice’s return. A modicum of fear had ignited in her abdomen as it usually did when he was away for longer than she expected. He never told her how long he’d be gone, a tactic he employed to keep her from worrying ironically enough, but she would usually develop some sense of a timeline in her head to predict when he’d be back.

  His absence was nearing the later stages of her timeline which set off the ignition of fear and doubt. She fidgeted with some of the reinforcements she added to the foundation of the shack in a vain attempt to take her mind off her conspicuous solitude and force time to hurry on by. Crist jerked her head around when she thought she heard noises that sounded like footsteps. She stood frozen for a moment and her hand went instinctively to her sidearm holstered on her hip.

  A couple more soft thuds sounded in the leering darkness. “Is someone there?” she said aloud, “I’m armed,” she added warningly.

  “So am I,” a low voice muttered behind her as she felt the barrel of a handgun dig into her back. An icy dread consumed Crist’s chest that caused her head to swim. She felt a light kiss brush against the back of her neck and she spun around to find Justice smiling mischievously.

  She banged a fist on his chest, “Fuck,” she yelled, “don’t do that shit! I nearly pissed my pants!”

  “You gotta stay vigilant sweetie,” Justice said. He planted a kiss on her forehead, “Told you I’d come back.”

  “Yeah, well where else were you gonna to go,” she responded annoyed.

  “Okay, settle down now. Hey, so I got some good news,” he said. Justice walked over to the shack and ran a hand over the outside of it.

  “What is it?” Crist asked, still annoyed.

  “We’re moving,” Justice said turning around to look at Crist.

  “Moving,” she said, her annoyance giving way to confusion, “where are we moving to?”

  “Abiyah.”

  “What? Why?” She said.

  “It’s closer to the compound, it makes sense for us to be closer,” Justice said.

  “Yeah, but it’s so far from here,” Crist protested, “how are we gonna get all our stuff there?”

  “Fox reckons he can get us a truck.”

  “No shit,” she said amazed. Personal conveyance systems were a rarity those days, specifically in that particular area since all petroleum shipments had been halted and any existing fuel reserves were already claimed and were being hoarded. A person had to have pretty serious connections and/or a butt load of cash if he wanted to have a car, let alone pay for gas.

  Sure enough, after the darkness had fully swallowed the shack, Fox showed up in a mid-sized box truck. The truck wasn’t for their personal belongings, however, as those things were disposable and easy to come by. Furniture, clothes, and basic supplies were all going to stay behind because the real need was the materials used to build the shack itself. Materials like metal, concrete, and other heavy duty building supplies were extremely hard to come by in that area and became even scarcer the closer one ventured towards Abiyah.

  Most everything had already been scavenged from existing structures and anything that wasn’t taken to be used was ruined by the scavengers. Wood was plentiful but a lot of it had already begun to rot and the defensive properties of wood left something to be desired. It’s easily blown up and wood also had a tendency to catch fire quite easily. This of course had always been wood’s Achilles heel and the risk was too great in those times.

  They took their time disassembling the shack and once done, they carefully and methodically loaded up the truck until every last nut and bolt was accounted for and packed away. “So how’d you come across this beast?” Justice asked Fox as the latter slammed the truck’s cargo door shut. In the all-consuming darkness the desert around them had come to life and offered itself to them. The wind howled and whipped through the small corridor of dwellings where they were staying. Sand pelted every inch of exposed flesh it could find. This forced everyone to cover up.

  Covering up wasn’t a problem for Fox who in one way or another was always covered up. His face rarely, if ever, seen without a special visor. He wore it so often that people began to speculate that his face had been horribly disfigured during a fight with the boss of the ancient Yakuza family. It was a wild theory but not without its merits. “Found it,” Fox responded in regards to the truck.

  “You just found a box truck full of fuel,” Justice said incredulously. “Where was it, at the bottom of a trash can?”

  Fox chuckled, “You could say that. It was buried within the Albuquerque junkyard.” The Albuquerque junkyard was the largest junkyard in the country and just about any car you could think of was junked there. Rarely was one deposited with a full tank of super rare diesel fuel, however.

  “So are we heading straight to Abiyah then?” Crist asked as they were preparing to leave.

  “No,” Justice and Fox said in unison.

  Crist laughed, “You two are cute. Where we heading then?”

  “Fox found a small commune on the lands of an old Native American reserve,” Justice said as he opened the truck’s door for Crist. She climbed in and he followed. “Apparently there are a lot of ex-Armed Forces people there. Figured it would be a good place to try to do some recruiting.”

  “I already have a few prospects scouted out with whom we should talk specific
ally,” Fox said as he got into the driver’s side and closed his door. He started up the truck and had them on the way to their new home.

  The unrelenting darkness was beginning to recede as the box truck rumbled over a dirt road that wound its way off the main highway. They were about halfway to Abiyah and it was evident that people weren’t taking their chances. The Cloud had yet to dissipate even a little bit in the areas that were closer to the GoD compound. The rotten stench in the air was even more pronounced once closer in proximity to Abiyah.

  Once off the main road a grand spectacle jutted up from the flat desolate lands: a gargantuan wall that made the mountains around it seem minuscule. It was unlike any structure any of them had ever seen before and until that very moment had no idea such a thing even existed. The wall looked to be in very good condition, which meant it was either kept up religiously or it was very new. Justice assumed it was a newer thing but for the life of him couldn’t begin to comprehend how something like that could’ve been built without word of it spreading to ever corner of the country. This was the town of Jericho.

  The walls were at least fifty meters tall but their ample thickness wasn’t discernable from the outside. After a long drive down the dirt road they came to a heavy-duty gate that was similar in style to the one that guarded the GoD compound’s employee parking lot. A small shack, a guard’s outpost, was placed just in the middle of the gate, almost like the entrance to a movie studio. It even had steel barriers that went up and down. A man stood in there, a large rifle slung over his back. He looked exactly like a good guard should: mean and intimidating. His furrowed, sloping brow did not exude intelligence, however, but intelligence couldn’t brutally take down trespassers.

  “I thought you said this place was small,” Justice said as Fox turned the truck down the path that led to the gate.

  “I never said it was small, that is just what you inferred.” Fox pulled the truck up to the guard shack and leaned out the window, “Hey there.”

  The guard slid back the window on his shack and looked up at Fox, “Can I help you,” he said in a low drawling voice that had the slightest southern twang to it.

  “I have an appointment to see Mr. Halsted,” Fox said, in a voice that was a touch slower than he normally used.

  “He knows you’re coming?” the guard asked.

  “Yes, he told me to tell you, ‘But the path of the just is as the shining light.’”

  “Very well,” the guard retreated back into his shack and for a moment nothing happened. Fox looked after him curiously but then the gate made a loud clang and began to slowly open. As soon as the truck passed over the threshold the gate slowly shut after it.

  Houses were established mostly on the outside of the commune just inside the walls. These buildings were positively dwarfed by the walls that protected them and the effect was very surreal. They too appeared to be similar in condition as the walls, either well maintained or very new. Even the grounds around the homes were in superior condition compared to those outside the commune. Some homes even showcased personal gardens that were all flourishing.

  It was a steel reinforced oasis among far reaching desolation. All the protection and secrecy was quickly starting to make sense to them and it became even clearer as they neared the center of the commune. A few people donning masks were milling about, walking in and out of shops and visiting with one another but not staying outside for too long. It would seem not all was pristine within the walls of Jericho.

  In the center of the town was a large great hall-like building. The building was constructed with an old 1940’s art deco style, which meant these people didn’t have much but they did have their imaginations still intact. The overall effect was quite ugly, actually. The color choice of bright blue and orange was wildly offensive to unsuspecting eyes and the rounded windows just seemed like a frivolous choice when functionality was the go-to in architecture. There was also a large golden cross perched atop the building, a very rare sight.

  Justice looked out the window in awe at this spectacle; it was something he would never have thought possible in this area, even before The Cloud appeared. It had been a long time since he had seen this much green in one place and it was a very welcome sight. His depression didn’t seem to be as bad when he looked at surviving life, it gave him a little nudge of hope. A nudge that, like everything else in the world, was just fleeting.

  Fox slowed the truck down and found an out of the way spot to park. All three exited the truck and slowly made their way to the ugly building, very much cognizant of the fact all the citizens stared unashamedly at them. Obviously they didn’t get very many visitors, they were almost a spectacle to these people. An iron plaque that hung on the wall next to what appeared to be the entrance of the building read:

  JERICHO CONGREGATE HALL:

  “We live by faith, not by sight”

  Before they could enter the building they were greeted by an elderly man in a long black cloak. He had a wisp of white hair dangling from the top of his head, serene blue eyes, and an inviting smile. Sauntering towards them he held out his hand to Justice who was closest, they shook hands. “Welcome to Jericho,” his voice was raspy but controlled, “it’s not every day we allow outsiders within our walls. You must be Fox,” he shook Fox’s hand but when Crist held out her hand he ignored her. “My name is Abraham Halsted.” He motioned for them to follow him and they walked inside the building.

  Inside the building was set up like an office, dull and monotonous. They walked over the sparse, Berber carpeted floor down a narrow hall. A set of large, ornate double doors appeared at the end of a hallway after a turn and for a moment they moved towards it. Abraham made another turn before they got too near the doors and led them through an open area that had a cluster of cubicles in the center. There were a few people sitting in seats but they didn’t appear to be doing any work.

  Justice looked at them and caught a glimpse of a man whose eyes had great dark circles under them. As soon as their eyes met, the man’s eyes widened in shock, or fear, or some similar emotion, Justice couldn’t quite tell. It also looked as though the man mouthed “Help me” but when Justice looked back at him, the man had returned to staring straight down at his desk. After getting clear of the cubicle room they found themselves in an office that was quite ostentatious.

  It was littered with religious knick-knacks and paraphernalia, most of which were adorned with rubies and other precious gems. The crown molding was covered with gold leaf and old 15th century oil paintings were hung on the walls, in perfectly restored condition. Gold embroidered vestments and a diamond studded papal hat rested lazily on the hooks of a coat rack that appeared to be made of solid gold. It was a very decadent room that was at odds with the man now sitting behind a great oaken desk.

  For a moment nobody spoke, the room was mired in uncomfortable, expectant silence. Finally Abraham cut through it with a jarring, throat clearing noise. “I believe you are here for a particular reason, yes?”

  “Yes, indeed sir,” Fox spoke before the other two could respond, “we are here to have an opportunity to talk with your citizens in the hope that some of them would want to join our fight.”

  “Ah yes,” Abraham said leaning his elbows onto his desk, “your savage war against those creatures that cast forth the plague that is killing all the land it touches,” he gave a supercilious grin, “except ours of course.”

  “Why is that,” Justice interjected before Fox could continue the conversation. “How is your land this fertile?”

  Abraham turned slightly in Justice’s direction and continued to leer with the same grin, “The Lord has blessed us with land to feed His people and keep them from harm. It was He that commanded the first of us to construct the walls that keep the evil at bay. The second coming of the Walls of Jericho.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Justice argued. Fox tried to get him to stop. “So your soil is a product of a miracle?”

  “Let me guess,” Abraham said, h
is grin turning to a scowl, “you’re a science type.”

  “Um, yeah,” Justice said as if anything else was ludicrous, “I’m a scientist.”

  “Then I will not bother explaining to you our faith, because your mind will never be able to comprehend it.”

  Justice took great offense to this statement. With the gift of an extremely high intelligence quotient he had the ability to understand just about anything. But before he was able to retort Fox cut across him. “You are absolutely right sir. Forgive him, intelligence does not excuse anybody from ignorance.”

  “That is quite all right,” Abraham’s grin returned to his face. “You wish to speak with my people?”

  “Yes,” Fox responded, “just for a moment. We do not wish to waste any of your valuable time.” Fox’s words were very carefully selected but he still used that same slower pace he used with the guard.

  “Very well,” he said, rising to his feet, “I will give you fifteen minutes at the end of our service tonight.”

  “That will be all the time we need,” Fox said, inclining his head slightly, “thank you.”

  “My assistant will show you out.” The door behind them opened and a young man stood in the doorway, his skinny dreadlocks tied in a ponytail on top of his head. He couldn’t have been any older than nineteen but his eyes, a doleful brown, had their own stories to tell. “Enoch, please show them to the front entrance. No detours.”

  “Yes sir,” he looked at Justice, “right this way.” Enoch lead them away from the office and the door closed after them. They took the same path back to the front entrance as they had when they came in. When they passed through the room with the cubicle cluster it was empty, completely, as if nothing had been there at all.