Dying Time Read online

  “Mrs. Adams,” he said carefully, “we’re going to have to take all of this stuff. We have a base with four hundred people in it, and they need everything you have,” the lady looked shocked. “But don’t worry, we’ll take you with us. Lots of people to talk to, entertainment, food. Not as much as you have here, but no one starves. And protection. We haven’t had any break ins since we set up the camp four weeks ago,” She seemed to calm down a little, but no much.

  “But, what about my children?” she asked.

  “You have kids here to?” she nodded. “We’ll bring them along. We have about fifty kids at the base, we could set you up as one of the care takers for them. You won’t have to leave you’re kids, and we could use all the help you can give us,” Bob said cheerfully.

  The base could use more kids to brighten it up, and if the lady was willing to help it would definitely keep things from being so chaotic. Hell, with all of this stuff she’d be considered a hero. The lady seemed to be warming up to the idea as well.

  “I’ll get the children ready, but you will probably want to see the freezer first. I’ve been able to keep it running, barely. It’s holding all the milk and things that can be frozen. Not as good as when its fresh, but it hasn’t gone bad. Follow me to the back.” She turned and walked away, obviously expecting them to follow.

  Chuck pulled out his radio. “This is Chuck and Bob at the convenience store. Get the APC over here. We have survivors, and the store is full.”

  “Will do Chuck,” Tom the team leader said. “Everyone finish up your search, and get over to the convenience store in ten.”

  Bob and Chuck hurried to catch up to Mrs. Adams. “Hey ma’am,” Bob said as they caught up. “How many kids do you have?”

  “I have two children, Martha and Bobby. There’s also my husband John, he’s been sick for the last three weeks,” her voice softened a little as she spoke. “Here we are. Just give me a moment, this door sticks unless you open it just so.”

  The two men stepped aside as she opened up the large freezer door. It was pitch black in the freezer, and they felt the cold air rush out at them. Mrs. Adams walked over to the fuse box. “I’ll turn on the light just step inside and make sure everything’s to your liking.”

  Bob and Chuck moved towards the door slowly. After running and doing supply runs for five weeks, they didn’t like dark rooms. They stopped just short of the door waiting for the light to come on. Instead they heard a gun being cocked.

  **

  Mrs. Adams reached the fuse box. There was no way she would allow these two sinners to take her food, or force her into a den of depravity. This was her house, and she would defend it till Jesus came to take her away. She pulled her late husbands pistol from the her boot. It had worn away some of the skin, but it was part of the penance of being forced to use a tool of evil. She turned on the two men and cocked the gun. The men stiffened and turned in surprise.

  The younger one put his hands up. “Mrs. Adams, I swear we don’t want to hurt you or your family,” he said. “But we need these supplies. Our offer stands, come back to the base with us. Your supplies won’t last forever and you have no way to get more.”

  “Stop talking. I will not be seduced away from God or my family, or my home.”

  “We’re not seducing you Mrs. Adams,” the silent man spoke for the first time. “You’re family can come with us. And we have a preacher, Father McKay, at the base. He holds sermons every day so that everybody can go to them even if they have to work on Sunday.”

  “LIAR!” she shouted at them. “Blasphemer! This scourge is sent by Satan himself. He is God’s punishment on all of us sinners. Those of us too impure to go to Heaven immediately must use this time to purify our souls. This is our second chance. Our only chance. I WILL NOT LET YOU SEDUCE ME!”

  The silent man went for his gun. She shot first. He went down, blood poured from his stomach. He started moaning. He sounded just like the Damned souls outside. The younger man still had his hands up, tears ran down his face.

  “You! Bob. Grab the sinner. Take him into the freezer. God will judge you soon. Pray now if you will.”

  The man started blubbering, it sounded like a simple child’s prayer. Probably the only prayer he remembered from his time of Innocence. She jerked her gun at him, motioning him to start moving. He bent down, grabbing the moaning man under the arms and began moving backwards into the freezer.

  She made sure he kept his eyes on her. She could see the slow, jerky movements just barely visible in the freezer. Her children were cold, they moved like puppets. The ropes kept them in the darkness. But their hands could just be seen from where she stood. The young man backed right into them.

  He started screaming as he felt the cold, half frozen hands grab his back. She moved closer, crying as she watched Martha and Bobby feast on the sinner. Her children, Damned, but still her children.

  The silent man was screaming, now that the shock had worn off. She saw her husband crawling on the floor grab him. He had lost his legs when he had went in to speak with the children. Despite his love of God, he had killed himself, forever barring himself from Heaven.

  She walked to the door, and turned on the light just long enough to see the ropes that encircled all of her families necks. As she closed the door she smiled, at least she had thought to remove their adams apples, she couldn’t stand the moaning.

  She walked upstairs slowly, her knees were stiff and sweaty. The Sinners companions would be coming soon. She had to pray.

  She took of her boots and sat down, lifting her dress daintily over her knees. Carefully she unwrapped the bandages covering her knees. They were soggy from her sweat and blood. Holding her dress away from her knees she went to her prayer spot, and dropped on her knees, onto the old mirror. She gasped in pain as the shattered mirror once more pierced her skin.

  She began to pray.

  Tears ran down her face as she heard gunshots downstairs.

  She prayed as her door was kicked down.

  When Tom flipped her body over she was smiling.

  Hero

  Peter wanted to kick something as he stalked through the Greyhound Bus Station. He just needed to make a phone call and the bloody phones refused to take change. They needed a five dollar phone card. It didn’t matter that when he had asked at the counter to buy a card they were fresh out. What type of cheap ass place ran out of phone cards. It was a five mile walk to a convenience store to buy one, that by the time he got there would be closed for the night. Trying to keep some small tatters of his pride he refused to call collect. So he was stuck.

  Stuck in a small, ass end of nowhere town with two hundred dollars to his name, a backpack with his entire life in it, needing a ticket that cost two-hundred and twenty dollars. FUCK!

  All he wanted was to get to Calgary, so he could get a job with a buddy painting houses. Just like his last job here in Hicksville, population 1000, and 99% senior citizens waiting to die. Why was it so hard? He wanted to yell at God and ask why the Hell did he think Peter McGuire, 23 years old, deserved this shit.

  He’d never done well in school preferring to work with his hands. Give him a paint roller, dry wall, a hammer any type of bloody tool and he was happy. So when he’d been offered a job as a painters apprentice straight out of high school by a friend of his uncle he had jumped at it. He’d done a good job, but his boss decided to screw over the government, his workers, and his clients. So when he’d been shut down, the government had wasted weeks of his time by making him go over every little detail of what Mr. Stewart had done.

  With no chance of getting a job in town, he’d been forced to hang around town sending out resumes throughout the country. But thanks to being held up as a witness for a month he couldn’t say exactly when he could start. A great way to impress potential bosses.

  And to add a nice cherry to the whole steaming pile of crap, his girlfriend had told him he was useless unemployed ass, as she walked out the door. He’d have expected her to walk
out with his best friend except for the fact his best friend had already left town for greener pastures.

  He wanted to punch something.

  Someone tugged on his old, cracked leather jacket. He looked down and saw a little girl wearing a blue dress, with her hair in pig tails, she was rubbing her eyes and yawned.

  “Excuse me mister, but have you seen my mommy?” she asked.

  Peter looked around, the old witch behind the counter was nowhere in sight, and he couldn’t see anyone else in the station. He had seen her mother a few minutes ago, a stern looking woman with her hair in a tight bun. Peter hadn’t realized women still put their hair up like that.

  “I think she went into the ba-” he started.

  “Tabitha! What have I told you about talking to strangers?” she yelled.

  “She just woke up lady,” Peter said. “She was looking for you and I was the only person in here.”

  “Don’t you call me lady,” the woman snarled at him. “And don’t speak to my daughter.”

  Peter looked around wishing someone was there to help him explain anything to the woman. The old woman was back at the counter now, she was smiling like this was the greatest thing she’d ever seen. The little girl was trying to tell her mother what happened, but the woman just shushed her.

  “FINE! You don’t want me talking to your daughter, tell her not to talk to me. FUCK!” he stormed into the men’s washroom. He didn’t want to deal with anyone, especially a woman. He was too angry after everything that had happened. He didn’t want to risk really losing his temper.

  He punched a wall. The pain ran through his hand. He didn’t punch it hard enough to really bruise his knuckles, but the pain and sense of action helped focus his mind. The bus he needed would come through town at about 3 am. At least two buses would stop off between now and then. If he could just get a phone card from one of the passengers, he could make a call, get the money, run to the nearest bank machine, and be back before midnight. He just had to get a card somehow, and hope the bus wasn’t too full for an extra passenger. If he couldn’t get a card he could call collect. He didn’t want to but he had to get out of town somehow. But with his luck the bitch outside would call the police and say he was a bloody pedophile for daring to tell her daughter were she was. He punched the wall again.

  After running his hand under cold water he walked back into the lobby. The mother was sitting once more against the far wall. She glared at him as her daughter slept with her head on her lap. The old woman was reading some magazine and smirked at him when she saw him. Peter sat down as far away from both women as possible, and tried to relax.

  **

  The first bus came at 9 pm heading east to Winnipeg. It stopped for a grand total of ten minutes, just enough time for people to stretch, piss, buy overpriced junk food, and peruse the latest copy of “Amateurs Unleashed”.

  Peter waited at the door and offered cash to use anyone’s phone card for a single long distance phone call. Most people ignored him, or told him to go away, some politely some not so politely. Finally a young Native woman gave him hers for free, saying she was almost home with friends waiting for her. Peter thanked her and headed for the phone.

  He dialed his parents number.

  “Hello,” his mother said.

  “Hi Mom.”

  Her voice lit up, “Peter, it’s so good to hear from you. How are things?”

  “I’ve finally got a job. It’s a painting job in Calgary,” he said, feeling the more relaxed then he had in months.

  “Oh good for you. I knew things would get better. When does it start?”

  “Two days from now. I’m actually at the bus station now waiting for the bus.” He paused for a second, “Mom could I get ten dollars from you? I have enough for the ticket, and a place to stay in Calgary. But I just need some money to buy some supplies.

  “Of course dear. You don’t need to sound so shy about it. I’ll throw forty into your account,” Peter started to protest. “Don’t say anything. I’m not about to let my son starve. Especially not when he’s about to start a new job.”

  “Thanks Mom.”

  “Don’t mention it. Just give me ten minutes and the money will be in your account. Now go get the things you need, and call me when your in Calgary.”

  “Ok Mom. Thanks. Love ya lots.”

  “Love ya to. Now go and get ready,” she hung up.

  Peter tried to cheer up. He had the money he needed, but he hated asking his parents for cash. They always gave him more then he asked for. If he’d asked for twenty, he would have gotten seventy. They kept pushing him, and helping him out, when he wanted to be independent and not having to call for Mommy and Daddy whenever something happened. He’d have been screwed without them a few times. Now he just wanted to start paying them back. But so far that hadn’t been possible.

  He’d pissed away too much money too many times, being a stupid jackass. And what did he have to show for it. He could paint a house. Wow, that would just make everyone so goddamn proud.

  He walked over to the counter, surprised the place was still open. The town was pretty strict about when it closed down. The old woman should have been in bed by now. Stop being an ass, he thought to himself. At least this way he would have the ticket in his hand when his bus came.

  The old woman seemed upset that he took her away from her magazine. The sheer gall of it all, wanting to give her money. He just smirked at her as she slowly typed everything up and eventually gave him his ticket to Calgary.

  Peter walked away wanting to kiss the ticket. Finally free of the town, and all the shit he’d had to put up with. Maybe now things would turn around.

  He saw the woman and her kid, now both asleep in the uncomfortable chairs, and decided to follow their example.

  **

  “Wake up!” the old woman yelled at him. “I’m closing up and can’t have you in here.”

  Peter glared at the old woman. He saw the mother and kid were already awake and gathering their luggage. They’d obviously been woken up before him, and much more nicely. “Of course Ma’am. Can’t let the likes of me stay in here. I might steal all your fine chocolate bars, and your fine selection of reading material,” he told her as politely as possible.

  He checked to make sure his wallet and ticket were still in his pocket before grabbing his back pack. He flung open the cracked glass door, and walked out into the chilly night. He briefly wondered if the woman and kid would get cold, then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to even look in their direction.

  Throwing his back pack over his shoulder he began pacing the parking lot to keep warm. The woman and her kid huddled together on the picnic table trying to stay warm. He cursed the Greyhound for not having proper waiting areas for people. Content to let people freeze their asses off in the cold, because they were the only cheap transportation in Canada.

  Peter walked around for about half an hour when he noticed the little girl was crying. He casually walked closer to hear what she was crying about. It turned out the girl was cold. Her mother was holding her and vigorously rubbing her arms and hands to try to warm her up, but it didn’t seem to be helping.

  He took of his back pack and his coat, and walked over to them. “Here’s a coat it should help keep her warm,” he told the mother.

  She looked up startled at his offer, “I really couldn’t. It’s freezing out and you need it.”

  “Your daughters colder then I am. Anyways all I have to do to stay warm is walk around. And don’t worry its dusty, but fairly clean.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Peter walked away feeling better about himself. He was at least able to help someone out. Now if only the bus would get here. Crossing his arms he paced the parking lot again.

  **

  A bus heading to Edmonton rolled into the parking lot. Everyone piled out and the bus driver headed around to the back of the station. Peter walked over, shivering from the cold, to hear what was going on. At this time of night the
driver wouldn’t normally let anyone off the bus, especially not at a closed store.

  Two people were talking about something happening in Winnipeg and Toronto.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Peter asked.

  “You haven’t heard?” the older man seemed surprised.

  “I’ve been waiting at this dump since six. I haven’t heard jack.”

  “Some type of disease has broken out in a lot of cities, its making people violent,” the old man said.

  “That’s horse shit,” the younger guy said. “They’re having a bunch of riots and everyone’s overreacting. So now we have to pull off the road and wait until things calm down.”