Jaws locked onto his legs, his arms, sheared through fingers.
“The Father, the Almighty…”
One of his ears was wrenched from his head.
“Maker of Heaven and Earth…”
You’re all mine now.
The Nicene Creed died in his throat as a brace of filed teeth shut on his Adam’s Apple.
Chapter 25: St. Bonaventure’s
Gary’s group was some distance from the bridge, out of the marina, when Father Chuck’s leg gave way again. Gary knew he’d have to stop the bleeding, and they paused long enough for him to tie his own belt around the priest’s limb. The blood flow slackened, but wasn’t choked off altogether; scarlet still marked Father Chuck’s steps.
They threaded in and out among the bungalows, working north-northeast. Father Chuck collapsed a third time. It took an ammonia capsule to rouse him.
Gary and Linda searched each other’s faces. It was hopeless, and they knew it. The priest was a weight around their necks. He was death.
Yet to abandon him was damnation.
“Maybe he’ll be our ticket out,” Linda said.
Gary laughed as he shouldered the priest’s weight once more. “They should make these tickets lighter,” he said, pushing on.
He became aware that the gunfire had stopped. Now there were only the screams of the dead, growing steadily louder.
“Blood’ll lead ‘em right to us,” Linda gasped.
“It’s God or nothing,” Gary said.
But the sky didn’t open to receive them, and Father Chuck’s legs turned almost to rubber. Gary fell beneath him, panting furiously.
“Father?” he gasped, wrestling out from underneath. “Can you make us a miracle?”
The priest raised himself on his hands and knees. He lifted his head, tried to point, but toppled. “Church… St. Bonaventure’s.”
Gary looked; the steeples were near.
“Body… of Christ… miracle enough?” the priest asked.
Gary dragged Father Chuck once more to his feet. Linda set her shoulder under the priest’s other arm, and they trudged forward.
They had only a hundred yards to go, but it was pure torment, a nightmare of exhaustion and cramping muscles. Yet finally, with the screams drawing ever closer, they came out on the street fronting the church, and staggered across to the steps. With a terrific effort, they got Father Chuck to the top; blessedly, the great oaken doors were unlocked, and the three dragged inside. To all appearances, for whatever reason, the church hadn’t been desecrated-yet. Gary locked the doors behind them, and they went up the main aisle toward the altar. Father Chuck collapsed over the step by the rail. Gary snapped another ammonia capsule under his nose. The priest grunted, shaking his head.
“Don’t die on us now, Father,” Gary pleaded.
“Altar,” Father Chuck muttered. “Tabernacle on altar. Get the sacrament…”
Linda staggered to the altar, opened the tabernacle. The chalice inside was empty.
“It’s not there!” she cried, turning with the vessel in her hand.
“Must’ve removed it,” Father Chuck said. “To keep it from them…” He pointed to a nearby door. “Container in there, probably… full of hosts. Unconsecrated.”
Linda and Gary rushed through. In an almost comically prosaic cardboard barrel lined with plastic, they found the wafers. Shoveling a handful into the chalice, they returned to Father Chuck, setting the cup down on the scarlet carpet.
“Gary,” the priest breathed, “are you sorry for your sins?”
“Yes, Father,” Gary answered.
The priest made the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I absolve you.”
He signaled for the chalice. Linda pushed it toward him. Father Chuck closed his eyes and began the consecration, head sinking lower and lower. Gary hugged Linda against his side, clenching her hand in his.
The screams drew closer. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Pray, Gary,” Linda said. “Pray.”
She started the Lord’s Prayer. He joined her feebly, his voice fading out after a few words. His life had been a hopeless, spineless waste. He’d been spitting in God’s face all along. Why should God help him now?
“Help me,” Linda said, noticing his silence, squeezing his hand. Father Chuck’s voice had sunken to a mere halting whisper.
Gary began to mouth the words again. He didn’t know if they would do any good, but forced them out anyway.
Father Chuck raised himself to his knees, lifted the chalice slowly, struggling as though it weighed fifty pounds.
“This is the Lamb of God,” he whispered. “Blessed are we…who are called to His supper-”
With that, there came three muffled pistol cracks in quick succession. A slug, the only one to penetrate the thick front doors, crashed into the altar in a spurt of marble dust. Gary turned to see one of the doors sweep open, and in stumbled Steve Jennings, leading the way with his.45.
“
The first shot struck Father Chuck in the back, tore out through his chest in a geyser of blood, spraying red all over the chalice, which dropped from his hands. The priest crumpled, taking a second slug in the leg.
Gary fumbled for his automatic. Steve turned his fire on him, giving Linda a moment to unsling her rifle.
Gary felt a numbing impact in the left leg, another in the chest, a third in the groin, and he fell to the carpet on his back, feeling little pain from the wounds, but intensely aware of the breath leaking from his punctured left lung.
Linda’s Marlin roared. By the time Gary managed to fight back up into a sitting position, a rusty film of blood coating the inside of his mouth, he saw Steve on his belly, crawling back toward the door, disappearing outside.
Linda dropped the smoking rifle, cradled Gary’s head against her breast. The screams outside were approaching their crescendo. The furies were almost to the church.
“Father Chuck!” Linda cried. “Did you finish?”
The priest nodded. He reached out toward the blood-spattered hosts scattered on the carpet, but his fingers fell short.
Figures appeared in the doorway, churned through. The church rang with their shrieks.
Gary heaved his pistol up and fired, too weak to aim, the pistol jumping in his hand. Grinning mockery at his impotence, the dead boiled up the aisle toward the altar.
Gary looked over at the priest. Father Chuck seemed to be dead, but when Linda shoved a host into his mouth, he chewed and swallowed.
She and Gary snatched others, the dead screaming toward them, claws outstretched. Linda raised hers to her lips, closed her eyes, took the Sacrament.
Gary hesitated at the last moment. It seemed almost blasphemous to go further. How could
