Part 1 (1/2)

SCAVENGERS.

by Christopher Fulbright.

Angeline Hawkes.

PROLOGUE.

Clad in a gossamer white gown, the squalling baby was pa.s.sed overhead like a crowd surfer upon hundreds of pustule-ridden hands that groped the infant's pink flesh. Gangrene fingers pulled at the satin ties of her bonnet, yanking the frilly bit of fabric from her downy head. The child's shrill cries rose above the din of moans and anguished wails as bony, flesh-beribboned hands pulled her down into the mob.

The baby disappeared amidst the horde. Snapping jaws, elongated from wasting faces and rotting skulls, bit savagely at one another in jealous rage. The crowd erupted into a ma.s.s of writhing bodies slick with pus and mucus. They fought to possess the child.

From out of the fray, the baby crawled, white gown stained with crimson and smeared with putrid stains of infection and decay. As the flailing hands touched the hem of her garment, all who touched her were healed...

Dejah sat bolt upright in bed, sweat sticking her t-s.h.i.+rt to her flesh.

Her husband Thomas lay beside her in the midnight darkness, snoring. This struck her as odd and she blinked to rea.s.sure herself she had not slipped from one dream into another. He hardly ever slept in their bed anymore.

Everything slips away, she thought.

Her heart still hammered in the aftermath of terror. Her breath came back to her in short gasps, her chest now released from the vise of fear. She ran hands through her long hair, matted from restless sleep.

The baby.

Selah.

She slipped out of bed and made her way to her daughter's crib. The child's breathing was even, rhythmic. A light touch on Selah's chubby cheek a.s.sured Dejah that her baby was really here, really okay.

She padded into the master bathroom, closed the door and flipped on the light, still quaking from the memory of the dream. A dream? Thank G.o.d, but it felt so real. The fresh memory of it raised the hair on her arms and tingled over her flesh.

Dejah turned on the tap and splashed cold water over her face. Standing there in the too-bright light, staring at herself in the mirror, she took a deep breath. It was Sunday, she realized. Several hours from now, they would return to the church in which they had not stepped foot in months for Selah's christening.

”You okay?” Thomas whispered from the bedroom.

The sound of his voice startled her. She marveled again at how strange it seemed to have him in here with her overnight. How quickly she'd become accustomed to the growing distance between them.

”Yeah.” She flipped off the light. ”Just a bad dream.”

She slid into bed, pulling the damp sheet over her shoulders. She lay with her back to him. He reached for her, gently touched her shoulder in darkness. She did not pull away, nor did she move any nearer to him.

A moment went by, and his hand went away. It left a cool impression behind.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

The church parking lot was packed. In addition to Selah's christening, it was Easter Sunday, which Dejah felt would make this even more special, but now that they were here she realized it served only to fill her with a greater sense of apprehension.

She told herself her anxiety grew out of their extended absence from the church*having to see Reverend Forbes, who'd been so kind to them even as he'd fallen ill late last year, and everyone else they knew after being gone for so long. When things started getting rough between her and Thomas, their attendance dropped off. Thomas became angry at the mere mention of church, and she hadn't felt compelled to argue the need for it.

The parking lot was almost full. To her relief, they made it to the front doors without seeing anyone they recognized and were swept inside in a lazy river of humanity. The service started on time, announcements were made, and the music proceeded, backed by the choir. As people raised their hands in supplication to the Lord, Dejah was reminded of the diseased hands in her dream, clots of rotting flesh clinging to bones as they carried her baby.

She could sense their gnawing hunger, and yet, how they wors.h.i.+pped Selah. How the baby seemed somehow holy to them.

She tried to shake it off. The image of her daughter in the gown, cradled here in Thomas's arms, triggered the memory. She forced a smile for Selah, refusing to believe the dream meant anything significant, but too uneasy to not believe in ill omens.

When Reverend Forbes came to the pulpit, Dejah was overwhelmed with emotion at his emaciated appearance. It hadn't been that long since they'd last seen him, but the change in him was shocking. He moved feebly, as if afraid he'd snap. His hair was thin, his skin colorless, his eyes sunken and watery as they looked out over his congregation. The cancer had taken a dramatic and significant toll.

Reverend Forbes expelled a rattling cough, serving as a painful reminder that soon he'd no longer be with them. His prayers were delivered with humility and sincerity. Dejah didn't know another man who deserved to die less than Reverend Forbes. And then, he called their little family to the front of the sanctuary.

The congregation applauded as Thomas and Dejah made their way through the aisle with Selah babbling happily, eliciting ”ae.

CHAPTER 1.

9 years later.

On a Friday night in the middle of a mild October, h.e.l.l rained down in a blaze from the night skies over Greenville, Texas. A school bus full of Millward Christian High School Students returning to Dallas from a football game against Greenville Christian Academy were among the first to see it. After sundown, the temperature dropped to a balmy 80 degrees and because the bus reeked with the stench of a locker room, they opened the windows as they crossed a small gulley bridge. The bus dipped into a deep pothole, as a sudden flash in the darkness pushed a wave of heat across the land. Sound followed a split-second later: an explosion so powerful it nudged the bus and made the kids inside catch their breath as their hearts kicked into high gear. They felt the heat and impact of the explosion like a mortar blast and scrambled to the windows to gawk. It looked like an airplane exploded in the sky.

”Holy s.h.i.+t!” said Collin Davis. ”Cool!”

”Hey man,” said another kid, ”that airplane just f.u.c.king exploded!” This was followed by a whole cacophony of cheers, curses and shouts.