Free Brian Keene by The Rising Page A

down.
    "So what's your plan?" Martin asked.
    "We need a vehicle. I don't reckon the church has one that we could use?"
    "No," Martin shook his head. "That's why John left. To get his truck. But there's plenty in the streets and driveways."
    "I don't suppose a man of the cloth knows how to hot wire one?" 68 "No, but there's a dealership just off the interstate. We could get one there, keys and everything. It's right off Sixty-Four."
    "Works for me," Jim said, mulling it over. "When can we make a move? I can't waste any more time."
    "We'll leave tonight," Martin said. "Those things don't really sleep, but the darkness will give us more cover. That's how I've avoided discovery so far. I stay quiet, watch for them during the day, and sleep at night. With the boards over the windows, they can't spot the candlelight, and I've been careful not to give them a reason to be curious."
    "Well, let's hope that luck holds."
    "I told you, Jim. It's not luck-it's God. All you have to do is ask Him." Jim began reloading his clip.
    "In that case Pastor Martin, I'm going to ask for a tank."
    "They can drive?" Martin sputtered, astonished. Jim pored over the atlas spread out on the pulpit in front of him. "The ones I saw last night sure could. They can shoot, use tools. Everything Page 51
    you and I can do. They're just a little slower at it. That's our only advantage."
    "I saw one a week or so ago," Martin told him, while waterproofing his boots. "Mike Roden's boy, Ben. Mike was the manager over at the bank. Anyway, Ben was carrying a skateboard at his side. Not riding it, but carrying it, as if he was planning on riding it if he could find a suitable spot. I just figured it was some kind of rudimentary instinct-a trace memory of before."
    "It's more than just memory, I can tell you that," Jim said, then paused. He thought back to the basement, and to what Mr. Thompson and Carrie had said. A part of them, the physical part, were people he had known and
    69 loved. But there was something else too. Something inside of them that was-old. Ancient.
    And very, very evil.
    "I was there," Mr. Thompson's corpse had said, when talking about the war. "Well, not ME, of course. But this body was there. I see the memories."
    "I don't think these zombies are the people we knew."
    "Well of course they are, Jim. That one I shot this morning was Becky Gingerich. She'd been our organist for almost seven years." Frustrated, Jim struggled for the words to express what he was thinking. He was a construction worker, damn it. Not a scientist!
    "The bodies are the same on the outside, yes, but I think what's making them come back is something else. A force of some kind." The zombie's taunts came back to him. "We are what once was and are again. We own your flesh. When your soul has departed, you belong to us. We consume you. We inhabit you!"
    Jim told Martin of his escape from the shelter. He paused when he came to Carrie and the baby, then finished, swallowing hard. "It's like they possess our bodies, but not until after we're dead. Like they have to wait for our souls to leave or something."
    The old man nodded patiently. "Demons."
    "Maybe," Jim agreed, "but I've never taken that stuff seriously."
    "The dead walk the Earth, Jim. What could be more serious than that?"
    "I know, I know!" Jim slammed his hand down on the pulpit. "But if they're demons, then shouldn't we be able to throw holy water on them, Page 52
    or exorcise them or something? There's so much we don't know! Why can you fill them full of holes and they keep coming, but hit them in what's left of their brain and they drop? They eat us, but is it for nourishment, or just because they're sadistic bastards? Their bodies keep rotting, the meat
    70 just slides right off the bone, and yet they keep going!" He stopped, shocked by his outburst. He hadn't realized he was crying till he felt the wetness on his cheek.
    "I'm sorry, Reverend," he apologized. "I'm just worried about Danny."
    "I don't have the answers,