Jubal was at a loss for words. He hadn’t believed the place existed but here was an old man and a boy—citizens of this mysterious town—telling him otherwise. Sanctuary was an actual place and these saviors were offering to take them there.
By now, the others had gathered around to check out the intruders. After Jubal had introduced Templeton and Seth, he enjoyed watching the looks of surprise at mention of the place the old man had arrived from. Even Ned, who had been nothing but unstable since his buddies died, looked a little shocked. The only one the news didn’t seem to affect was Amara, but what else was to be expected from their most stoic group member?
Jubal couldn’t believe it. He had done it. He had brought them to Sanctuary.
“Well, Hallelujah,” Mother said, a smile on his face that somehow made it both uglier and more pleasing at the same time. “Only thing is, people just don’t name a town “Sanctuary.” They usually have a reason for calling it that. Do you have a reason, Mac?”
“Yep, I reckon we do, sir.” The old man smiled behind tight lips.
“The dead people can’t go nowhere near it,” Seth blurted.
“That’s enough, boy.” Templeton said firmly, placing a hand on the kid’s back. His smile notched a little tighter and Jubal assumed it was because he didn’t like his grandson stealing his thunder.
“Woohoo!” Nestor yelled and some of the others laughed. “A working oven and no zombies. Little boy, you’ve just described heaven to this baker man.”
“How do you do it?” Salina asked, not looking completely convinced that the man was telling the truth. “How do you keep them away?”
Templeton pushed back his cap and scratched his scalp through his thinning hair. “Well, I couldn’t rightly tell you that, since it’s all scientific. But you could ask Dr. Sims once we get back to town; he’s the man who runs Sanctuary. Guess you could call him the mayor but most of us just call him ‘Doc.’”
Jubal caught the gleam in Salina’s eyes before she recovered her composure and hid behind a neutral facade.
Who was this Dr. Sims? Was he some benevolent version of Luther Kemp? Had he gotten hold of alien tech and figured out how to keep the undead at bay? They’d all find out the answers soon enough.
Robin, who was standing next to him, whispered something but he couldn’t make out what she said. He lifted her off the ground and held her close.
“What was that, darlin’?”
She whispered into Jubal’s ear, buried her face in his neck and began sobbing.
“Mac, how good is your doctor? We have someone who was badly wounded in the missile attack. This little girl’s mother.”
“Well, I’m sorry about your momma, sweetie. But I can tell you one thing: If anyone can make her better, it’s Dr. Arnand Sims.”
“She’s in the back seat of our Jeep,” Jubal said. “And I think the sooner we move out the better.”
“Only the Jeep’s dead,” Mother said. “And it’s going to take a while for the sun to juice it up again with this cloud cover.”
The old man stepped forward and took a look at the vehicle. “That’s a beaut but I don’t think that even if it was juiced up, it’d do you much good. See, Sanctuary is beyond this hill here and then after that you have a passel of gullies, hills and ditches through which not even a four-wheel drive could maneuver.”
“We have to leave it behind?” Mother said, brow furrowed.
“Unless you want to wait a couple days for the sun to peek out and charge up your vehicle. But then again if you have the Damned shooting missiles at you, that might not be such a good idea. Just my opinion, of course. You folks do what you like.”
Jubal squinted up at the ceiling of green-tinged clouds and shook his head. “We can always come back for it. The main problem is, how are we going to get Heather to Sanctuary if we can’t drive her there? It’s not like she can walk.”
“Say,” Templeton said, snapping his fingers. “I bet we could rig up a stretcher or something that would work just fine.”
Jubal nodded. That wasn’t such a bad idea. He clapped his hands. “All right, people. Get your stuff together and let’s look for something we can use as a stretcher.”
Everyone spread out to gather their belongings.
“We can’t thank you enough,” Jubal said to Templeton, shaking his hand. “We’re all battered and ragged and our morale is at its lowest, then you come along and save the day. If I believed in miracles, this would certainly qualify.”
“Pleased to help out, Jubal. That’s why we do it, I guess. It makes the townsfolk feel good to know that we can aid those lost in this hellish wilderness.”
“And really? No walking corpses at all?”
“Oh, they’re around all right. Why, they’re everywhere, as I’m sure you know too well. Aren’t many of us live ones left as far as I can tell. But, no sir, not in the town of Sanctuary. Dr. Sims makes sure of that. Once we arrive, you won’t have a thing to worry about except for which cabin to sleep in or whether you want eggs or pancakes for breakfast.”
It all seemed too good to be true, like a blissful dream after a long spell of nightmares.
As the man and boy moved away to help the others assemble a stretcher, Amara came forward.
“What’s up?” Jubal whispered, still cradling Robin who had fallen into a fitful sleep using his shoulder as a pillow. He rubbed her back, swirling his palm in gentle circles. He’d never had a child of his own. He’d planned on having a few with his fiancé but those plans were crushed when she died of the necro disease. At the moment, it felt as though Robin was his child. And with her mother wounded and unresponsive, Jubal was all the family the girl had. Well, him and the others who loved her, like Mother, who had known her almost as long as Jubal.
“Is this guy for real?” Jubal whispered.
Amara turned her regal gaze upon the old man. “He is not telling the whole truth.”
“What do you mean? Is Sanctuary a lie?” Please don’t tell me it’s a lie.
“No, I don’t think that’s it. Most everything he says is true, but not all of it. He is hiding something and I think it might be something we need to know.”
Jubal shook his head. “Well, it can’t be any worse than the hungry dead.”
Amara shrugged.
Jubal was concerned by the psychic’s words, but what could he do? The whole group was weary and ready to give up. He couldn’t just take this away from them, not now. Not yet. “I think we’ll just have to play along and see how this thing pans out. If shit is about to hit the fan, you’ll let me know and we handle it just like always. Agreed?”
Amara gave a firm nod. “I hope it works out. It would be a relief not glancing over our shoulders all the time.”
“Roger that. In the meantime, let’s pretend like this conversation never happened, and furthermore, not a word about your special ability to anyone. I don’t want it to cause any undue suspicion.”
“What if the others say something?”
“I don’t think any of us are that stupid. At least I hope not.”
“I’m not stupid,” said a little voice.
Robin was awake and treated them both to a sleepy smile.
Jubal smiled back and set her on the ground, relieved that she wasn’t in tears, at least for the moment. “How much of that conversation did you overhear, little one?”
“Conversation? What conversation?” Her smile grew bigger.
“That’s my girl.”
Mother stepped up, Shredder in hand, with a large bundle strapped to his back. “Gonna use a tent and poles as a stretcher, bundled up our belongings into packs and then we are ready to get the bleep out of here, chief.”
Jubal slapped his hand on Mother’s thick shoulder. “That’s great news, my friend. Let’s move out.”
* * *
Mother trailed behind as they made their way to the promised land. They had just reached the top of the heavily wooded hill which overlooked the river. Beyond, they faced treacherous, overgrown wilderness.
Nestor walked in front of him on eager little feet, swinging his handgun around like it was a brand new lollipop. The cat had a face-splitting smile on his mug and a major boner to do some baking. With all the fuss Mother’s little friend had made about cooking, when the time came to whip up some vittles, they had better be some damn good ones or Mother would give him an earful.
* * *
Salina walked alongside Ned. The man hadn’t said squat since the missile attack, and Salina considered that a blessing. When it came to conversation, Ned had only two settings: his hillbilly chicken-fucker dialogue or the frequent onset of religious fervor. She found them both equally annoying. The relative quiet made it easier for her to think.
And to plan.
Honestly, Salina was surprised to learn that Sanctuary was real. Sure, she was along for the ride on the slim chance that the town did exist, but it wasn’t often that fairy tales turned out to be true. Now that she was close to seeing this miracle village, Salina was ready to do what she did best: identify a situation and take full advantage of it.
If Sanctuary was actually a zombie-free zone, she would find out why. Once she knew how they repelled the dead monsters, she would find a way to use that technology to control the zombies. With an army of flesh-eating corpses under her command, Salina would move to a new level. She could control cities. Even states. Hell, she could make her own state. But why stop there? There would be nothing keeping her from founding her own country.
She must have laughed, because Ned looked at her curiously. She ignored him.
With total control of the dead, she would make the surviving humans serve her. They would protect her, feed her, bathe her, even fuck her when she wanted. Her subjects would build statues of her, monuments to her leadership. Salina knew she would be a great leader. She could be fair. If her people did what she asked they would be treated well. If they misbehaved, she would have to make object lessons of them.
Ahead of her, Slate and the boy carried the stretcher with that sanctimonious bitch Heather on it. They all agreed to take a turn carrying the injured woman. Soon, it would be her and Ned’s turn. That was okay. Salina planned to play nice until she got what she wanted, but she was already making a list in her head. There were some people who needed eliminating right away, just as soon as she captured the zombie-controlling technology.
And a few of them were right here with her now.