Corn, Cows, and the Apocalypse (Part 1) Page 3

  I shrugged when I realized that there weren’t any words coming out of my half open mouth. “You don’t ask for much in return.” I might have offered him another shrug since my voice box was still unresponsive, but he pushed back a lock of my hair and tucked it behind my ear, interrupting whatever logic I had left in my brain. “Do you…need anything, Lenore?”

  This was his version of making a pass. All I had to do was say yes now, and once again when he posed the next question. We would be making out in less than a minute.

  My heart was slamming into my chest, and my face was so hot I could predict the tomato red finish it held. I hadn’t been able to speak or move for at least 30 seconds, but it felt like minutes. I don’t know what changed at the end of those 30 seconds, call it cowardice; call it the last vestiges of prudishness, but I shook my head and turned away from him.

  “No, I’m good.”

  I wasn’t good. I was lonely.

  Not that it wasn’t obvious, but Devin didn’t push the matter. He sighed with subtle disappointment as he snuffed out his cigarette. He had given it his best. “Okay, let me know if that changes. You know where to find me. You want first watch tonight?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said before he went in.

  I sat out on the stoop feeling more alone than when I started. I watched, listened, and waited for the glimmer grim to shuffle into the yard, attracted to the light like a moth, but none came on my watch. They never did. Which was good, because if I couldn’t stop a horse thief, how the hell was I going to stop a demon puppet?

  -Priest-

  Holy water was a rather significant weapon against the glimmer grim. Although their preserved bodies were already sainted by God, the addition of holy water seemed to keep the demons from rising in them. I kept a particularly large stash on me in case we relocated to a new residence for the evening.

  At the beginning of the apocalypse—when people still gave a damn about the bodies that were haphazardly lying around—houses were marked with the number of dead within. Now the numbers stood as a warning. Any house with more than three dead was considered too dangerous to approach day or night. The last thing you want is to go into an unknown closed space with four or more potential glimmer grim. Houses with two bodies were worth the risk. If they hadn’t risen as demons yet, we sprinkled the bodies with holy water and stashed them in the cellar or basement. We always locked them in, just in case.

  Our current home only had one resident basement dweller, and I had used up all my holy water to ensure he remained inert. That was why I had to go see Priest. His real name was Matthew Corte and it was a calculated decision to use the last of my holy water, because he was not the most pleasant man to socialize with.

  Die a horrible painful death at the hands of a glimmer grim, or go see Priest to get more holy water? I assure you, there was a good, long debate.

  How should I describe Priest? He was a loyal and dedicated servant to God, until God left him behind with the rest of us ingrates. For a while, he believed that God had left him here for a purpose. His faith transcended to offer the remaining people a path into God’s good graces, but let’s face it, three months of preaching to people who don’t want to look at a cross, let alone talk to God, can wear you down.

  So, Priest did something he had never done in his entire life. He got mad…at God. Priest became a reformed man. Any inkling of his religious reserve was wiped away by drugs, alcohol, and sex. To add sacrilege to sacrament he screwed his endless harem of women on his church altar, while wearing his vestments. He even went so far as to graffiti his own church.

  I couldn’t blame him for his anger. I couldn’t blame him for his desires either. However, for a man so high on God’s chosen list, to fall so far, any respect I could have had for his position, was reduced to pure pity. The man hadn’t just fallen from God’s good graces; he nosedived.

  Priest sat on a wall, and had a great fall, but all the king’s horses and all the king’s men…couldn’t have given a damn about putting him back together again.

  Part of me wished I could. It would have been nice to have someone to question about everything that had been going on. As I said I’m not religious, but given that I was living the end of days, it would have been nice to know what to expect.

  I waited by the door to the church for a few minutes. I had learned the hard way that knocking and/or listening before entering his church was a wise choice. Priest certainly didn’t mind the interruption, but there was still something inherently disturbing about pornographic imagery paired with a church background. Someone probably should have told Madonna that.

  When nothing of a sexual nature sounded from within, I entered. It was only a small town church: white siding, steeple with a single bell, not more than a dozen rows of pews inside. Priest had probably been on a meager income there.

  He was in the front row of pews with his back to me. If I hadn’t known any better I would have thought he was praying, but I was disappointed and disgusted when he let out a satisfied groan. “Shit.” I cursed under my breath and tried to sneak back out the door.

  “Lenore?”

  “I’ll come back.” I cringed.

  “No need, I’m finished. Come in.”

  I turned back in time to see a young woman wiping her mouth and scurrying abashed out the door behind the altar. I shook my head and returned to the front row where Priest was now lounging euphorically. I sat down in an adjacent pew. He was all in black, except the white collar that he refused to take off despite it being significantly irreverent to his new lifestyle.

  “I hope you didn’t come for my services, I’m afraid I’m all used up for an hour or so.”

  I didn’t give any hint of a smile at his joke. I couldn’t tell if he was drunk, stoned, or another form of wasted, but he wasn’t going to be fun to talk to. Convincing him to bless more water for me was going to be a debate if not a full on argument.

  “I didn’t recognize her. Is she new?”

  “They all come to me eventually.” He stood up and walked over to me. I was used to the routine. First he would flirt with me. A mock attempt at seduction that he had never and probably never would act on. He seemed to understand that I was too disturbed by him to be attracted to him.

  His oily black hair might have been shiny and beautiful if it were combed and trimmed. He was definitely attractive with chiseled cheekbones, and hollowed cheeks, but the five going on eighty day scruff was just too much to look past. Aside from the unhealthy gauntness he had achieved from choosing drugs over food, he also had developed a smell of alcohol that poured off of his breath and sweat.

  He leaned into me, bracing his hands on the back of the pew. I leaned back and switched to breathing through my mouth instead of my nose. “They want answers. They want to know why God hates them. I have the answers, don’t I Lenore?”

  It was cocaine. I could always tell his cocaine high from his marijuana high. Coke made him mean and hyper sensitive. I wanted to fast forward the process, and get to the end. I was tired of the speeches and the soap box self-depreciation, but if I said the wrong thing, he wouldn’t help me and I’d have to come back again. That was definitely not on my wish list.

  He didn’t wait for me to answer. He gestured to the hanging crucifix behind the altar that had become a coat rack for stray bras. “I have the answers because I am one of God’s very own foot soldiers.” He glanced back at me. “I committed my life to Him you know? I gave up every vice for Him. How does he repay me?!” Priest picked up a half empty bottle of wine from the chancel steps and threw it at the crucifix. The glass missed the target and shattered wine onto the wall beside it. “He leaves me behind!!”

  Priest’s voice echoed through the arched rafters of the church. It would have been very dramatic except that I had heard this speech before. The anger he exploited was no more than a childish fit to me now. As I said, I didn’t begrudge him his emotions, but for him to think himself so much higher than the rest of us, that he should have th
e right to fall so far from his own predetermined grace, made him seem spoiled and arrogant. My sympathies for his situation, which was also my situation, had long since waned.

  “You know what I have to say to that?” He seethed through bared teeth. “Fuck God!” He repeated it a few more times before rushing back to me. Clutching my shoulders, in desperate need of camaraderie in his rage, he shook me fiercely. “Say it. Say it!”

  “Fuck Him.”

  “Louder!”

  “Fuck Him!” Although I could never bring myself to say “God” at the end of that blaspheme, he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. It just felt wrong, even if it was an honest statement to come by at this point in my life.

  Priest stared me down. His blood shot green eyes danced over my face, never trespassing beyond my chin, despite his new hobby of lechery. He released me and knelt down before me, as if the entire scene had wasted his energies. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before placing his head on my lap. I couldn’t be sure if the apology was for me or for God, but it was something I had never heard before.

  Not sure what to do to console him, I pet his head. His hair was too long and in need of a good brushing, but it was silky—cleaner than I would have expected. After I had my fill of running my fingers through his hair, I tried to talk to him. Unfortunately, he had passed out.

  I pushed him off me and gently lowered him back onto the cushioned pew where I had been sitting. He was going to be out for a while I assumed, so I left without my holy water. I didn’t want to repeat the visit, but Priest needed sleep, more than I needed water.

  -Sumo Training-

  “I don’t understand why we’re still doing this?” I asked as I slipped in a football mouth guard. We were all outside of the house in the front yard. Haden was openly tanning her slender legs on a blanket, while August was sitting in a plastic lawn chair just outside of the spray painted circle that Devin and I were standing in.

  Devin had slipped his shirt off to get a little sun as well. I would have preferred it if it was for my benefit, but he hadn’t removed it until Haden had joined us. Yet another reminder of why I had said no to him several nights before. Why would I intentionally hurt myself?

  “You need to get stronger. You need to learn to defend yourself.” August chastised with her motherly tone.

  “Why? I have you.” I insisted through my mouth guard.

  “I won’t always be there to save you.” August adjusted the brim of her floppy beach hat. She wasn’t as interested in the sun as the others were. Her mulatto skin may not have been as fair as mine, but she still tended to burn rather than tan.

  “Sure you will.” I slurred over my mouth guard before smiling at her. She smiled back warmly before motioning for Devin to attack.

  Devin dove into me. I did my best to stay in the circle, but he pushed me out right away. “Come on, Lenore. Aren’t you even going to try?” Devin asked.

  “You weigh more than me. How am I supposed to stop you?”

  “Don’t stop him.” Haden chimed in without looking over at us. “Just evade him.” She sounded annoyed even though she was apparently trying to help.

  “The point is to try.” August said. “Don’t just give up when he starts pushing. Dig your feet in. Kick him. Punch him. Think of a child being kidnapped by a man. What should that child do to save themselves?”

  I slipped out my slobber covered blue plastic, a less than attractive moment for me. “It won’t matter he’s stronger than me.” August sighed before getting up and walking away. I looked to Devin for an explanation. “What does she want from me? I can’t fight you.”

  “Yes, you can. You may not be able to win, but you can certainly fight. That’s all she wants, just put up a good fight. The worst thing you can do is just stand there and let yourself die.”

  I looked between August and him. They didn’t understand me. My instincts said to run and hide. She was trying to make me a predator, but I was always going to be the prey. “I’m sorry, Devin. I can shoot an arrow, that’s it. One misplaced checkmark on an archery class at summer camp. It doesn’t make me a hunter and it certainly doesn’t make me a warrior.”

  “Okay.” Devin said grinning at me mischievously.

  “What?” I asked narrowing my eyes.

  “Defend yourself against this.” Devin dove at me with tickling fingers. I squealed rather pathetically and squirmed from his grasp. I wasn’t sure this was the type of defensive move August had in mind, but for the moment we seemed to be doing better than arguing.

  I tried to get around behind him, but he grabbed me from behind and tickled my stomach. He had a knack for finding the most sensitive areas. I laughed until I coughed, but he didn’t stop. Eventually, I managed to trip him, but that only left him half on top of me, pinching the back of my thigh just under my butt. I screamed and laughed, trying to buck him off.

  “There you go.” He laughed at me. “There is a little fight in you.” I got my hand free and slapped his face, but as soon as I did it I gasped and apologized. He pinched me harder. “Stop apologizing, I’ve been slapped harder than that before.”

  His hand shifted between my legs just under the hem of my shorts. I grabbed his hand to stop him from going any further. My laughter died, and he smirked at me. A question passed over his face, but he never asked it. He pinched my skin on my inner thigh, before withdrawing his attack.

  He rolled off me and we both got back to our feet. Haden’s attention had been drawn to the display, and she was already getting up to interrupt us if we didn’t stop on our own. “Let me show you how it’s done.” She said stepping into the circle and waving me off.

  I stepped outside the line and stupidly expected to learn something from watching them. The only thing to learn was that Haden didn’t want to share Devin with me. They danced around a bit before the pushing and shoving resulted in Devin landing on top of Haden.

  The so called sweet talk they shared, as they not so discreetly shifted to better match their bodies, was enough to make a sailor blush. It was more than enough to send me away.

  August had wandered back to the house. I found her sitting on the stoop watching the action from a distance. She shook her head when I approached. “I’m sorry, August.” I said. “I’m just not cut out to fight. I wish you wouldn’t waste your time. I hate disappointing you over and over again.”

  She nodded over to the circle where Haden and Devin were openly making out. “Why do you let her walk all over you like that?”

  “Cause she can kick my ass.” I crossed my arms and kicked the cement step beside her.

  “I can see you like Devin. There is no reason to deny yourself a little companionship.” I nodded even though this conversation felt like a sex talk with my mother. “Devin is a good man. He will be respectful and discreet.”

  “Haden and him…”

  “…are chaotic.” She finished. “But that has nothing to do with you. Haden doesn’t own Devin. Don’t let her dictate your level of celibacy. If you won’t fight to save your life, at least fight for the little pleasures in your life.”

  I grunted some kind of nonspecific response. “I would fight to save my life. I’m not completely suicidal. It’s just hard to motivate myself to fight my friends. For real I mean. I just can’t bring myself to scratch out Devin’s eyes, you know?”

  August nodded thoughtfully at me. “I understand that completely.” She said distantly as if a plot were forming in her mind. Knowing her it probably was. Knowing how creative she was, I probably wasn’t going to like it.

  -Strawberries-

  August’s statement about celibacy reminded me that I still needed to get holy water from Priest. So I took the truck back out to his church. The trip wasn’t far, but it was nice to get away from the house. No matter how lonely you get in life, you can still appreciate some privacy.

  Alone in the truck I blared Jimmy the Card’s radio broadcast. He usually played up beat music during the day hours. In the weekday evenings he swit
ched to soft rock, but the weekend nights, he played heavy dance and rap music.

  There were always parties on the weekends. In the rural areas, we went to barn dances, quite literally in barns at someone’s farm. Jimmy would announce the invitations to his listeners and we went to whichever was the closest. The parties usually consisted of dancing, drinking, and finding someone to take a roll in the hay with—again literally.

  Past the witching hour Jimmy switched to romantic melodies to cater to the couples spending the night in each other’s arms. I was usually passed out long before that, but I was told if you made it to three a.m. Jimmy put on a verbal pornographic recitation for all of his female fans who preferred to spend their nights with him. Essentially, live broadcasted phone sex. What the hell, the FCC was no longer functional.

  After a lot of off key singing, I arrived at the church for another round of Priest’s anti-God rhetoric. As usual I listened at the door to make sure there was nothing going on I shouldn’t walk in on. Given my last visit, it wasn’t a fool proof method, but calling ahead wasn’t an option, since the church didn’t have a phone, and Priest rarely went back to his rectory.

  As I listened at the door, I heard a few pleasure summoned moans from women inside. I cursed my luck and took a walk to the garden instead of retreating back to the truck. I knew from experience that this might be a long wait, but I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to make this trip again tomorrow.

  August and the others didn’t trust Priest—for good reason. People high on coke and other drugs tended to do bad things. They objected to my visits, whether they were for good reason or not. Twice in one week, was already causing second and third glances between them. I wasn’t sure if they were afraid that Priest was going to hurt me, or just influence me to his side of madness.

  The apocalypse had brought on a plague of un-mowed lawns, but Priest had managed to keep his garden in functioning order, which was strange since he didn’t keep himself in functioning order. To my surprise and glee, I found a patch of strawberries that were ripe for the picking.