Free Sanctuary by Pauline Creeden Page A

the Peninsula, you have to have noticed the decrease in people?”
    “I thought they were just holing up indoors all the time like our next door neighbors, the Cassels.”
    “It’s true that some are, but humankind has taken a hard hit even before these Shisa started attacking people two days ago.” He wiped his brow again and coughed before he continued. “I used to perform two or three funerals a month. But lately, it had been as many as four a week.”
    Jennie shook her head. Her voice quavered. “They didn’t say anything about this on the news. My dad was watching it all day long, every day, since the aliens came.”
    “Sometimes the news doesn’t give us the whole story because they are afraid of how the general public will respond.”
    Furrowing her brows, she said, “That sounds a bit too much like a conspiracy theory.”
    Pastor Billy shrugged and grabbed the paper bags he’d set on the pew and started in the direction Mrs. Crawford had gone. Jennie followed. She didn’t know anyone who had died. A couple of the houses in the neighborhood a street over had incidents, but she didn’t know them—just of them. On Facebook, people had been putting up memorials and such, but it all seemed so distant.
    As the two reached the kitchen, a banging started on the main door of the building. Her hair stood on end, and one look at Pastor Billy’s flushed face told her that he was afraid of who it might be as well.
    Mrs. Crawford lifted Mickey up and set him on her hip. “Want to help me make some cookies?” she said cheerfully, but the look in her eyes told her worry.
    The banging on the door continued, and Jennie jogged down the aisle after the pastor. Approaching the windowless door, Pastor Billy called out, “Who is it?”
    A shout came from the other side. “Hey, Billy, it’s me, Jack Ransom!”
    Jennie thought her knees would buckle. “Oh, thank God.”
    Part of her wanted to be mad that her father had just left them there. He was supposed to be here two days ago. But when the doors opened to the old wooden church and her father stepped in, still wearing his flannel pajama bottoms, Jennie couldn’t help but rush over and pull him in a bear hug. Tears welled in her eyes, and she sobbed into his chest.
    Her father stroked her hair, and his voice cracked when he spoke. “I’m sorry I took so long.”
    Muffled by her father’s jacket, she asked, “Did you find mom?”
    Gentle hands pushed her away. His eyes etched in red around the rims and in the whites, her father looked into her face. “No, Jennie, that’s why I took so long getting to you. I searched everywhere.”
    Her heart sunk in her chest. Just like she’d gone two days without a shower, her father looked every bit like he’d gone two days without washing or sleep. Her mother was just one of the injured now, no more. If her father had given up, did that mean hope was lost? Jennie choked back a sob.
    “Daddy!” The pounding of little feet on the church’s floorboards behind her announced Mickey.
    She stepped aside to let her little brother jump into his father’s arms. Dad lifted the boy off his feet and hugged him close to his unshaven face.
    “Prickly, Daddy! You’re a cactus.”
    Dad laughed and appeared genuinely happy for about two seconds before his face fell a bit. He tried to paste on a smile as he spoke. “Have you been a good boy?”
    Mickey nodded vigorously.
    “Good. Get your things, and let’s go home.”
    Pastor Billy stepped up and put a hand on her father’s shoulder. “Jack, have you heard what they’ve said on the emergency radio system?”
    “Yeah, but I think we’ll be fine at the house. We’ve stocked up on enough food to last us a couple months, and I’ve got my 30-30 and a shotgun if we need them. I know these two will just be glad to get home.”
    “That sounds well and good, but what happens then? I don’t know if the military bases will keep taking survivors after they open the gates this one time.