14.10

Preacher Kelly’s lips twitched constantly, fervently repeating a desperate prayer.

Finally the arms seemed to fall away.

He took his chance and pulled the lever as hard as he could.

He feared he’d only get one chance at this and this gave him the strength he needed to fling the door shut.

There were three stout iron bolts on the door and he managed to work these home.

The door lurched sickeningly until he had all three drawn shut, but the bolts held it shut.

The drumming of many hands on the outside of the container hit him like punches but he knew they were safe in here.

God had spared them.

‘Thank you, Lord,’ he muttered, a sad smile on his face. ‘Thank you so much.’

*

The sound of the hands beating on the sides of the metal container became background noise after a while.

In the darkness inside the container he lost track of the time.

Seconds felt like hours.

Hours like days.

But thanks to his time in the cage having the devil cut out of him, he had endured worse than this.

He’d been hurt, hungry and alone before and survived.

This was nothing.

He felt God was in here with him, just as he had been in that cage in Serenity.

There was nothing he couldn’t do.

*

Preacher Kelly had no idea how much time had passed when Cross finally woke up.

He was panicked and in pain, but Preacher Kelly gently placed a hand on his shoulder and explained to him what had happened.

The pain hit him hard, but Preacher Kelly reassured him.

Cross too, was master of compartmentalisation and managed to blot out the majority of the pain.

The hands still beat at the walls and door of the shipping container. The crowd outside spoke in tongues, it seemed.

‘Thank you, my child,’ Cross said, sitting up and placing a firm hand on Preacher Kelly’s shoulder.

‘You saved my life and my soul, I was only too pleased to return the favour, Reverend.’

Though Preacher Kelly couldn’t see his mentor and saviour, he felt sure he was smiling.

*

Preacher Kelly felt honoured and privileged to have this alone time with Reverend Cross. They talked about future plans for Serenity, their pasts, their hopes for the future.

It took him back to the early days of Serenity.

Preacher Kelly could listen to Cross speak for days on end and he would happily have done so.

The time passed quickly.

In the end, Preacher Kelly was slightly disappointed when the banging on the walls of the shipping container had stopped.

‘I think they’re gone,’ Cross said. ‘It should be safe to leave.’

Preacher Kelly reluctantly undid the bolts. They listened for sounds of the horde, but heard nothing. They’d obviously sought easier prey.

A sharp shoulder barge sent daylight spearing into their bloodshot eyes. Both men involuntarily covered their eyes with their arms.

They didn’t know how long they’d been in there, but the explosions and screams seemed to have stopped.

They left the shelter of the container, on edge in case any of the cattle were still roaming around.

They saw none; luckily the horde had maintained the herd mentality of the cattle they’d been treated as.

The surrounding area was ashes. Small wisps of fire and smoke still blossomed, but it was clear the inferno had died down.

It was unclear where the rest of Cross’ army were, but they could not be seen in their immediate surroundings.

There seemed to be no Grims here either.

The whole area was eerily quiet.

‘Do you feel that, my child?’ Cross said, eyes cast up to the heavens with an awestruck look on his face. ‘That is the stillness and calm only God can bring. He has spared us again.’

Preacher Kelly nodded, mirrored Cross’ gesture.

‘It seems clear our Holy war has already been won,’ Cross said. ‘The King’s Grims have either perished or scattered like rats.’

‘What of the King?’

‘God is telling me he is no longer a threat to us.’

‘Does He say he’s dead?’

Cross paused a second as though listening to a whispering voice.

Shook his head.

‘He’s not dead. Not yet. But He has told me time is running out for the heathen King.’

*

Preacher Kelly retraced his steps from the dozer he’d been forced to abandon while cauterising Cross’ wound. The edges of the wound were taking on a greenish yellow tinge that both men knew was the first signs of infection.

The vast medicine stores in Serenity were needed, so they would return home.

‘We shall return home to Serenity as God’s heroes,’ Cross beamed. ‘We have carried out His plan and survived the fires of Hell itself.’

The dozer was surrounded by corpses of the cattle. Jake’s lifeless body poked out from beneath the debris.

Cross’ face fell as he recognised the clothes.

‘He fell trying to keep the horde off me while I cauterised your wound,’ Preacher Kelly explained.

Cross nodded, tears forming in his eyes.

‘May the lord God bless your soul, young believer,’ he said, slowly and deliberately forming the sign of the cross on Jake’s forehead and thumbing his eyelids shut. ‘Your sacrifice will never be forgotten.’

*

The dozer rumbled across the no-man’s land between the Freelands and Serenity, now a mass of ashes and corpses.

We’re going through purgatory, on our way back to the promised land, Preacher Kelly thought with a sad smile.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Cross slept.

Preacher Kelly looked down upon him with an adoring gaze.

He thanked God that he had saved them both, but he had truly been ready to die for his saviour.

The deep feeling of gratitude faded when he saw the state of their beloved village.

*

Preacher Kelly was bemused and distraught at the devastation that had been wrought in Serenity, but he knew that Cross would feel much worse.

The outer walls had been breached.

Villagers that Preacher Kelly had come to think of as family lay dead in the dirt.

The once-immaculate houses that formed the village were charred husks. More corpses were strewn across the once-pristine gravel pathways. This time, he recognised the dirty black hooded robes of the Freelands Grims among Serenity’s fallen.

He hawked and spat in the ash-smeared grass at his feet.

But as bad as all this carnage was, the worst sight was the beloved golden church that lay at the heart of Serenity.

The church, already repaired from the fire on the night that led to Wayne Cross’ death, was once again in a sorry state.

Smoke still rose from the ground beneath it.

The structure itself was miraculously unharmed, but aesthetically it was ruined.

The windows were smashed – especially the spectacular stained glass window which had survived the first fire back when Deborah had slaughtered Wayne Cross. The twin gold crosses had been torn from the roof and hurled to the ground.

Wildly imaginative obscenities that could only have come from the minds of the Freelands Grims had been sprayed in foot-high letters on the golden walls.

A pile of bodies was piled up on the green in front of the church.

The grass was a chaotic chessboard of charred black patches and dirty grey ashes.

It didn’t seem like anything had been left untouched by the flames.

A closer glance revealed a Grim with an especially dirty face sitting atop the pile of bodies.

Preacher Kelly stopped the dozer and gently shook Cross awake.

He tried to soften the blow, but as the Reverend looked around his beloved village, he reacted as if slugged in the gut.

Tears filled his eyes.

In Preacher Kelly’s opinion he looked even more distraught than he had when he’d learnt of Wayne’s death.

Cross opened his mouth and Preacher Kelly knew a wail of despair was coming. He shoved his hand hard over his mouth.

Cross sunk into Preacher Kelly’s embrace, sobbing his heart out.

‘I am feeling this almost as deeply as you are, Reverend, but we need to get some medicine for you and get the hell out of here.’

The Reverend said nothing, he was like a toddler in the middle of a meltdown.

For that moment in time, nothing mattered more than the defiling of his beautiful village.

An avalanche of memories had crushed him beneath their weight.

‘Reverend, I am going to get some medicine from the stores. Are you coming with me?’

Cross said nothing, just sat with his hand clamped to his brow, sobbing.

‘You stay here, Reverend. I will use the tunnel under Jake’s house to access the medical store.’

Cross didn’t even acknowledge him.

‘Did you hear me, Reverend?’

Cross nodded once then returned to his sorrow.

Preacher Kelly stood slowly, wincing at the noise as his knees popped.

He dropped from the dozer onto the gravel he’d personally raked thousands of times.

His heart sank again as he took in the full scale of the devastation.

They’ve hit us just as bad as we hit them, he mourned.

He headed for the edge of the gravel path, regretting his decision to use such a noisy route.

He saw no Grims other than the one guarding the church, but he felt sure there would be more lurking in the shadows.

Still, he kept his guard up, moving as slowly and surely as his aching body would allow.

He made it to Jake’s house.

Preacher Kelly had been part of Serenity’s maintenance crew and had spent many hours working on this house. The dwelling’s current plight sickened and saddened him.

The perfectly thatched roof was pretty much gone, swallowed by the flames of the avengers from the Freelands.

The door, that he himself had painted a beautiful cobalt blue with loving strokes, just a charred, deformed mass.

He shook his head in dismay and headed inside.

Seeing Jake’s belongings and pictures on the walls made him pause a moment. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and muttered a prayer for Jake and his family – who were still unaccounted for.

Then he focussed; Reverend Cross needed medicine fast.

The varnished wooden floorboards were blackened and misshapen.

The tiny plus was that it made the trapdoor in the floor easier to find.

Jake’s huge, handwoven cross-shaped tapestry on the floor was shrivelled and black, exposing the trapdoor.

The sunken metal handle clicked as he grabbed hold of it.

He pulled hard, cursing as the fire had caused the trapdoor to lose its shape and catch on the edge of the hole.

In a hail of burnt splinters the hatch came open.

The air in the tunnel was cool and seemed pure, untainted by the carnage above.

He moved slowly down the staircase and felt along the wall for the hidden door that he knew was somewhere to his right.

The key was hidden in a gulley above the door. Pleasingly this was untouched by the flames.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The relative darkness of the tunnels awaited him.

*

There were no Grims in the tunnel, he was pleased to note. He took a moment to figure out the path to the medical stores. It was a maze down here and he struggled to find his way at the best of times, never mind with the haze of sadness and exhaustion he felt.

Finally, he found the door with a slightly different cross mounted on it – the simple markings of a medical treatment centre rather than the intricate crucifix that adorned the churches and homes of the villagers – and reached for the key above the door frame.

He felt a slight moment of panic when he realised it wasn’t there, but felt around the concealed door frame and on the floor.

Finally the small key was nestled in his hand.

He unlocked the door and moved over to the neatly stacked metal racking which housed the medical supplies for the entire village. He took a quick look through the windows and saw a Grim slouching against the wall. A bent, discoloured cigarette was poking out from his lips.

A shotgun that Preacher Kelly knew was one of Serenity’s own sat in his dirty hands.

With horror, he realised that the Grim was pointing his small torch through the window, lighting up his face.