Badlands Trilogy (Book 3): Out of the Badlands (7 page)

But Womack never fought fair and he never lost a fight.

Truth was, Womack was a scary motherfucker. Barnes considered himself a hard ass—construction work before the virus, complimented with lots of bar fights—but deep down he knew himself to be reasonable. Hard, but reasonable.

Womack was a fucking psychopath. Barnes would never admit it to the others, but Womack scared him more than just a little. Secretly he hoped that his right hand man never became an enemy. If so, Barnes wouldn’t hesitate to kill him (that was the practical thing to do).

“What’s the plan?” Womack continued. “The jerky is going to run out in a day or two.”

The jerky in question had been made from the remains of a couple they ran into a hundred miles back. Barnes killed the guy quickly, but Womack had other plans for the girl. He took her away screaming. A few hours later she came back in pieces, ready to be smoked. Barnes didn’t ask any questions. In the end, meat was meat.

“Decent amount of wild game in this area,” Barnes replied. “Lots of deer and whatnot.”

“Maybe,” Womack said, “but the boys are hankering for some PBs.”

PBs. Womack’s own term.
People Burgers.

“Deer will do just fine too,” Barnes replied.

Womack shrugged. “Be good for morale.”

“Is it low?”

Womack shrugged. “PBs would hit the spot.” He smiled, revealing three missing lower teeth.

Barnes almost shivered. “Noted.”

Womack went silent. Not uncommon—Womack was a man of few words—but Barnes always wondered what was banging around in that head of his. Most days, he was glad he didn’t know.

A road sign appeared ahead. “Topeka,” Womack said. “Might get ourselves some PBs there.”

Barnes nodded. “We might just yet.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had to agree with Womack. He had a hankering for a PB himself.

The trucks parked and unloaded their human cargo. Their hosts led them through large, stained-glass double doors and into the large chapel area. Inside, more people sat in pews, watching the new arrivals with rapt attention. Ed wasn’t close enough to either Alice or John and could not overhear any more of the conversation. He could see them, though, both engaged in an animated conversation with the man who’d flagged them down earlier.

Now committed, Ed complied, keeping Zach and Jeremy close by as he exited the truck and fell into the line streaming into the building. Trish followed, as did Jasper. The others from the trucks filed in alongside them, herded together like cattle.

He could only hope they weren’t being led to slaughter.

As the church loomed, Ed began to have second thoughts. Should they have run? Sure, it would be dangerous, but who knew what lay on the other side of that door? If he’d only had more time to decide, to weigh the odds, maybe he would have felt better about his decision. Truth was, he didn’t have the time and never would.

They stepped across the threshold and into the church. Robed men directed Ed and the others into pews, filling the sections evenly. It reminded Ed of his childhood days, when his father got a wild hair every year or so and hauled the family into church for the Sunday sermon. He didn’t like it then and he didn’t like it now.

Low murmurs filled the chapel, bouncing off the walls and amplifying as they rose to the ceiling. John and Alice stood near the pulpit, heads together as they conversed with their bearded host. More bearded men lined the back wall of the chapel, their arms crossed, long robes draping onto the floor.

“Is this a church?” Zach whispered.

“Looks that way,” Ed replied.

“Is it
still
a church?” Jeremy asked.

“Guess we’re going to find out soon enough.”

“I don’t like this,” Trish whispered. “Gives me the creeps.”

“Amen, sister,” Jasper added. “Creep city.”

A ringing bell from the pulpit caught their attention. All eyes turned toward the front of the room.

“Our new friends,” the tall man from the highway said. Loud and confident, his voice carried throughout the open room. “I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce myself and my congregation. My name is Enoch. The brothers and sisters you see around you are members of the Immaculate House of Concordance. Our church is this humble building in which you are now seated.

“Your leaders, John and Alice, have graciously accepted my offer to feed and shelter you for the night. The egregious theft of your food supplies at the hands of your brothers is truly unfortunate and I can only hope that my humble offer to help will assist you all on your journey to the coast. It will be long and hard, no doubt, but God willing you will manage.

“Please allow us to provide your earthly bodies sustenance and a good night’s rest before you continue onward.” He paused, dropping his head. “Let us pray.”

As Enoch launched into a mumbling prayer, Ed glanced around the room at the survivors from the truck. Most had their heads bowed, but he noticed Terry Wilkinson was not a part of this group. Instead, Ed’s most recent red-bearded acquaintance looked around the room, catching Ed’s eye and nodding in acknowledgment.

As Enoch continued his prayer, Ed glanced toward the back of the room. The men lined up along the back wall had their heads bowed as well. All except the two who’d accompanied Enoch in the jeep. With their heads held high, they scanned the room, inspecting the new arrivals in the pews. One of the men caught Ed’s eye and paused just for a moment before moving on to the others. But the pause was just long enough to set Ed on edge.

Enoch uttered “amen” and raised his head, smiling at his audience. “Brothers and Sisters, let us break bread.”

He exited the pulpit and walked toward a side door, disappearing through it. Behind him the bodyguards from the truck followed. Robed men led those in the pews toward the door, motioning them through. Ed didn’t notice any of the women originally spotted outside upon the trucks’ arrival in attendance.

Ed rose with the others, ensuring the boys remained in tow as they made their way up the aisle and out through the chapel door. Once through, Enoch’s men led them all down a long hallway. The smell of baking bread and cooking meat greeted them. Despite his concerns, Ed felt his stomach grumble.

Enoch led the group of two dozen to a doorway leading to a set of descending steps and stopped. “Our kitchen is downstairs,” he said, motioning toward the open door. “We break bread there as a group each day.”

“Where do you get the food?” one of the Kevins asked. Ed couldn’t remember which one was which.

“We have a stockpile, collected by our brave men over the past couple of years,” Enoch answered. “God has smiled upon us and we are blessed with enough to make do. We’re happy to share His blessings with you, our new friends.”

“Why would you help us?” a short man with long, curly hair asked.

“How can we trust you?” a stout woman asked.

Enoch smiled. “When two travelers asked Lot for simple hospitality, did he refuse them? Of course he did not. As a matter of fact, when the angry mob demanded they be handed over so the devils could know them intimately, Lot refused.”

Terry spoke up. “Yeah, he offered up his virgin daughters for gang rape in their place.”

Enoch smiled. If he was affected by Terry’s bible lesson he didn’t overtly show it. “All the more illustrative of my point,” he replied, the smile hanging on his lips, but just barely. “The time has come for eating and fellowship. Please, will you join me?”

Enoch descended the steps with John and Alice in tow. The rest of the group followed suit.

Jasper shrugged. “I guess we’re doing this then,” he said as he walked toward the doorway.

“Do you think it’ll be okay?” Trish asked Ed.

“Well, we still have our guns,” Jasper replied. “Doesn’t even look like they’re packing.”

“Should we go then?” Trish asked.

“Not sure if we have much choice,” Ed replied. “We’re in this with everybody else now.”

Trish nodded. She took Ed’s hand as they joined the rest of the group in the church’s basement kitchen.

Chloe allowed it, so Lester walked with the two teenagers, making sure not to say anything that might spook the already suspicious girl.

Sam had already bought in, so no challenge there. But Lester wasn’t interested in Sam. He wanted Chloe. 

Normally he didn’t like them so young. Kids were pushovers, too easy to manipulate. No challenge. Besides, in the end they never really put up much of a fight. The older they were the more fight they had in them and all the more satisfying when he finally put them down. 

Chloe was tough. Jaded. Suspicious, despite her young age.

Exactly the kind of challenge Lester lived for.

So Lester walked. He helped the two carry their loads. He let Chloe look through his backpack, revealing only clothes and innocuous supplies. (He did not reveal the knife stowed in the bag’s hidden pocket, of course.) He talked of his psychology practice, regurgitating anecdotes that were as much fiction as fact. He elaborated on his fictitious family, reciting stories about his two imaginary sons and a wife who’d had the terrible misfortune of not surviving the viral outbreak that ended civilization. Conveniently constructed stories sure to be pity-inspiring.

Sam relayed his own losses, including that of his mother, to which Lester made puppy dog eyes before placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Lester couldn’t have given a fuck less about some random cunt, but the mask of empathy he wore had been carefully crafted over many years of practice.

Chloe didn’t share. Surely the girl had her own stories, but she kept them to herself. Lester could hardly reign in his excitement at finding such a tough nut to crack. A delicate, sweet dessert to be savored thoroughly when the time was right. He could almost see her hanging upside down, her face flushed red with blood, her eyes brimming with tears. When he opened her up the blood would flow a bright, dazzling red.

He whipped himself back into reality.
Hold your shit together
, he told himself.
Take your time. Savor this.

He walked on, affecting meekness while delicious visions of blood danced throughout his head.

* * *

Open farmland became forest as the day pressed on. Lester relieved the two of them, carrying the broomstick and pillow case contraptions to help share the load. Currently he wore Sam’s.

Chloe watched carefully as Lester and Sam talked freely about end-of-the-world theories involving the government, the army, the Russians and Chinese, even space aliens. Sam appeared to get along fine with this new stranger, a man they’d met only hours ago. But Sam could get along with just about anybody because he was still in many ways just a kid. He didn’t have the kind of jaded cynicism that Chloe possessed.

When it came down to it, she didn’t think she liked Lester much. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. What exactly that was she couldn’t seem to put her finger on though. Something about him seemed
too
perfect. Too agreeable. Too safe. As if he were trying too hard to convince her and Sam how harmless he was. It sounded crazy even to herself, but the sinking feeling in her gut told her otherwise. The problem was translating that message to English and getting Sam to see it as well.

“I need to pee,” Chloe said, suddenly stopping in her tracks. She lowered the broomstick and pillow cases full of supplies to the ground. Her muscles felt the glorious relief of no longer bearing that weight and she instantly dreaded having to carry it for even another yard. “Sam, can you come with me?” she said, motioning toward the surrounding woods with a nod of her head.

Sam blushed. “You want me to come with you?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Just to be safe. I expect you not to look.”

“We’ll be right back, Lester,” Sam said. “I want to hear more about your germ warfare theory.”

“Sure thing, Sam.”

Chloe grasped Sam’s hand. “Come on. I gotta go.” They left the road and headed into the overgrown shoulder, walking through a carpet of thick weeds before stepping into the trees. They disappeared behind a wall of foliage, but Chloe led Sam further still, just to ensure they remained out of earshot.

“Chloe, this is weird,” Sam said. “You never asked me to come with you before.”

“Shut up,” she said, immediately wishing she hadn’t sounded so rough. “Just come with me,” she continued, her voice softer now. Another two dozen feet and she stopped. She turned to Sam, glancing back at the road without noticing she’d done it.

“Chloe, what gives?”

“Quiet,” she said, keeping her voice low. “He might hear.”

“Who, Lester?”

“Yes, Lester.”

“So what?”

“So I don’t want him to, that’s what.”

“Um, okay,” he said a perplexed look on his face. “I’m not sure why you care.”

“I don’t trust him,” she said, not dancing around the subject. She hadn’t the time to waste.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “What’s not to trust? He’s a good guy.”

“Something’s off with him.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t say exactly. But something’s not right with him.”

“You’re making a big deal over nothing.”

“I’m not. I swear I’m not. I’m older than you. I can tell these kinds of things,” Chloe said, straightaway wishing she’d phrased it differently.

“You’re not that much older than me,” Sam said, indignant. “I’m not a kid, you know.”

She was losing him, she could tell. “Let’s just go right now,” she said. “Just keep walking, into the woods.”

“I don’t want to,” Sam argued. “Besides, all of our stuff is back there.”

“We’ll get more. It’s just stuff.”

“It’s not just stuff and you know it. Food and other supplies are hard to get these days. There’s nothing out here but woods and abandoned farms. Those farmhouses all got picked over years ago and you know it. We’ll starve without that food.”

“Sam, please.” Now she was begging and she hated the sound of it.

“Lester’s cool, Chloe. He hasn’t done anything bad. He’s smart, college degree and everything. And in case you hadn’t noticed we don’t have any adults with us now.”