Shaun Jeffrey - Dead World

“How do you know? How do any of us know what’s outside? Nobody but the Hunters are allowed outside the walls. We only have the brethren’s word.”

“You don’t trust them?”

Anna shook her head. “No, but I’m asking you to trust me.”

Ben started squirming in her grasp. “Let me go. Dad!”

Anna held him tighter. “Together, we have a chance. One day, your name might be drawn.”

“Good! I want to be chosen,” Ben said.

Anna glanced back through the fence. The figures in the distance were getting closer, their gaits shuffling and slow. Then the gates were shut.

Zeke looked from his mother to the door, then gazed around at the chanting crowd. He pursed his lips and nodded.

“But what about Dad?”

Anna peered up at the walls where Isaiah had climbed to look outside.

“Your father, he… he doesn’t understand. Your grandmother thinks he’s blind.”

Ben snorted. “Gran’s crazy. Even Dad says so.”

“She understands more than you think…”

Ben shouted for his dad, but the roar of the crowd drowned him out.

“Come on, we’ve got to go, now.” Anna dragged her son towards the gate. Ben thrashed around and she had difficulty keeping hold of him. A couple of people stared at them but they didn’t take too much notice as they were busy making their way to the walls or the chain link fence to stare outside.

Now that the gate had been secured, it had been left deserted and nobody noticed as Anna drew back the bolts and opened the gate. She pulled Ben outside, with Zeke helping.

Up ahead, Lucy was standing watching the approaching figures.

When the residents of Sanctuary realised that Anna had gone outside, the chant died and a strange silence descended until she heard Isaiah shout, “Anna, what are you doing? Get back inside.”

Lucy turned around and saw her mother and siblings coming towards her. Her peaceful expression turned into a frown.

“Mum. What are you doing out here?”

Anna swallowed. “We’ve got to go. This is all a lie. You weren’t chosen in the lottery. Quail rigged it.”

“Rigged it? What are you—”

“I don’t have time to explain. You’ve got to believe me. We’ve got to go.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere. Zeke, grab your sister. Now!”

Zeke hesitated a moment, and then grabbed Lucy’s arm.

“But the Gods… I’m going to become an immortal. I was chosen.”

Anna studied the figures shuffling towards them across the field. She counted fifteen in all.

“Do they really look like Gods to you?”

Closer up, the figures appeared dishevelled, grey flesh peeling. Some were missing limbs or chunks of flesh. They lurched forwards, arms extended and jaws wide, eager for their prey.

“Of course they’re Gods. They don’t die,” Lucy said.

Anna shook her head, her expression a mixture of exasperation and fear as she glanced again at the approaching figures.

“I’m your mother, and you’ll do as I say. Now let’s go.”

Anna headed away from the approaching figures, wanting to distance herself as much as possible. Ben still struggled and shouted for his dad. Zeke pulled Lucy along, although she still seemed confused, hesitant.

Behind her she caught angry shouts emanating from Sanctuary. Words such as “Blasphemy”, “Cursed” and “Heresy,” rang out, but she ignored them.

As they reached the tree line, a man dressed in tattered rags staggered out from the trees and lunged for Lucy. His skin was rotten and congealed and the bones of his hand were visible where the skin had decayed. Lucy let out a little scream.

Acting out of instinct, Anna swung her satchel around, hitting the man in the face and sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Run,” she screamed.

Behind her she thought she heard her husband shouting but couldn’t be sure.

“I’m sorry, Isaiah,” she whispered. “For everything.”

Isaiah stared at his wife and children as they headed towards the woods. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

“Anna, come back. What are you doing?” he shouted, but his words were lost in the cacophony of angry cries emanating from the residents of Sanctuary.

More yells came from the courtyard and he looked back down to see two of the Gods had staggered through the open gate. They were both dressed in ragtag clothes and one had half its face missing, the jawbone and teeth clearly evident. The other one appeared bloated, its skin purple and grey.

A heavily armed Enforcer ran towards the bloated God and tried gently pushing it back, but the God snapped at him, trying to sink its teeth into his arm. The Enforcer lost his footing and the God crashed down on top of him and bit into the man’s throat, tearing out a chunk of flesh. The man screamed, the sound almost inhuman.

People backed away, their expressions reverent. One man dropped to his knees and started praying. He raised his arms in reverence as the God with half its face missing approached.

Roman barked out a command to the Enforcers. “Don’t just stand there. Get them back outside.”

Several Enforcers stepped forwards holding sticks and shields and started pushing the Gods towards the exit. Once they got them outside, they rushed back inside and shut the doors.

The guard who had been attacked lay on the ground, blood pumping from the wound in his throat.

People in the crowd started shouting:

“What about the sacrifice?”

“The offering must be made.”

“The ceremony’s been ruined.”

“The Gods will curse us!”

Isaiah barged past people and thundered down the steps to the courtyard just as Roman joined the Enforcers who had surrounded their fallen comrade. One of them bent down and inspected his colleague before he looked up at Roman and shook his head.

Grumblings emanated from the crowd.

Roman held his hands up. “Citizens, I won’t let misfortune befall our community. The ceremony will go ahead as planned. Even if I have to go out and bring them back myself.” Cheers went up from the crowd. “Anna Charles will not go unpunished.”

Isaiah noticed the body on the ground twitch. Roman must have seen it too because he motioned to one of the Enforcers who stepped forwards holding a spear. Roman nodded at him and the man rammed the spear into the dead man’s head.

“Only those chosen by the lottery are ordained to become as one with the Gods,” Roman said. “Any other way is blasphemy.” With that he turned and strode away. As he reached the other side of the yard, he stopped and turned. Fixed Isaiah with a withering glare. “Do I need to tell you to accompany me, Isaiah Charles? Your family has disrupted our ceremony.”

Isaiah nodded, tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes, yes, I’m… erm, I’m sorry.” He hurried across the yard, book tucked underneath his arm. Sweat trickled down his neck.

He followed Roman across the yard and around the corner of the main building. The imposing structure towered overhead. Stepping into its shadow made Isaiah feel cold and he shivered. The numerous cell windows were covered by iron bars. Isaiah had read about similar buildings in one of the books he’d read. The author had called them prisons; their purpose to contain criminals, keeping them apart from society. He found it ironic that what was once a place of chastisement had become a haven. Not that anyone would be interested. Most people weren’t interested in books and history. Except for the Governor. Vincent Carmichael. It was he who had assigned Isaiah the task of archiving and cataloguing the books they had in the library. Most of them had rotted away, but he took great care with those that survived. He didn’t know what Carmichael was after, but Isaiah had to brief him on everything he found that related to history.