Copyright (c) 2014,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, April 28, 2014

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.


A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: apocaly4.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com



story_codes: M/gg(10, 8), first, anal, cons, non-cons

story_intro: Welcome to Colterville in Year 10 after The End. It's a town and a church all in one where zombies are part of the theology. When two women and a young girl straggle in, they find their sanctuary may be their end.

story_language: English







Apocalypse Road: The Church of the Resurrection

Written by madvlad


The End, when it came, produced some incredible marketing opportunities.

	Three couples are in a suburban backyard; the men gathered about the barbecue grill while the women are sipping drinks at the patio table. With a series of grunts and growls, a dozen zombies lurch into the yard. At first, the host tries to bat them away with his spatula but is forced backward. The zombies knock the grill over, ruining the tasty-looking steaks. The women scream and scramble from their chairs. As they do, the hostess stops and looks into the camera.

	"Help! Those zombies have ruined my cook-out!"

	The screen freezes for a moment, capturing the look of horror on the women's impeccably made-up face. An off-screen voice speaks.

	"Oh no! Has this ever happened to you?"

	The view pans out to where the people and the zombies are standing in place in the yard as a sandy-haired man in tan pants and a blue blazer strolls in. When he speaks, it's obvious that this is the same voice that was just heard.

	"Hi folks - Chris Van Rilke, here. I know you're all aware of other fine products I've offered like the Java Smart coffee mug organizer and the Trout Tunes musical hip waders, but today I have just the thing you need in today's dire times."

	Chris holds up a shiny blue aerosol can with bold yellow lettering and continues.

	"Introducing new Zom-B-Gone spray. Guaranteed to turn your walking dead nightmares into a better, bite-free day."

	Chris sprays a 'zombie' in the face. The creature moans and flails its arms theatrically and shambles away. The host, hostess, and guests reach for the blue and yellow cans which have suddenly appeared in a neat arrangement on the table and commence spraying, driving off the unholy horde. Then the camera returns to a brightly smiling Chris Van Rilke. 

	"That's right, folks. It's as easy as that. Zom-B-Gone comes in these handy, easy-to-use cans and also in large drums for use with a garden hose for those of you living too close to a mortuary. But wait, there's more..."

	The television clicked off in the meeting room and Chris Van Rilke turned to the others as he tossed the remote on the table.

	"You know the rest. Now the good news is that we just got our first shipment in - all of which has already been pre-sold. Stevens in Duluth says they'll have another shipment coming here tomorrow. Our operators aren't just standing by - they're running up orders like it's nobody's business."

	A young woman with an MBA from Harvard who minored in Twenty-First Century Societal Unease cleared her throat to speak.

	"Isn't there something...unsavory about what we're doing here, given the circumstances?"

	Chris' smile faltered slightly before it regained its full wattage.

	"Walk with me," he said as he moved toward the room's exit. "All of you."

	The half dozen people joined him as he walked through the sea of cubicles that comprised the mid-level management hub of Van Rilke Enterprises. 

	"When it comes to the little gadgets that makes life easier or is fun to use, anyone can come up with the crap we do," he lectured. "What separates us from Sham-Wow and all the others is how we react when a really huge turd slams into the windmill. The big game is crisis marketing, people. Crisis marketing.

	Look at our growth charts - the largest spikes always came right on the heels of some disaster or perceived disaster. Y2K, H1N1, Paris Hilton, Mayan Calendar, Bush's election, Obama's election - all worth their weight in platinum. Because when people think their world is going to end, they're not interested in getting a second thing free - just paying for separate shipping and handling, of course - they are spreading the legs on their credit cards and making it recurring monthly billing, baby. Ooh! Ooh!"

	Chris punctuated the last remark with an exaggerated pump of his pelvis. The group stopped at the elevator and he pressed the button.

	"That's today's lesson kids. When a crisis hits right in front of you, the successful people, the big-dicked moguls, will stand their ground and stare it right in the face while others are running away."

	The elevator doors opened, disgorging a large group of zombies who had been feasting in the lobby. While the others ran away, Chris Van Rilke was unable to move. Standing frozen, he stared at the crisis as it surrounded him and moved in.

	"Do we try it?" Ellen asked, looking at the other woman who was in the driver's seat.

	"We're running out of options," Melissa answered as she worriedly listened to the van's timing belt squealing. "We either go to that place or we'll be hiking out in the Z-lands."

	"I just wish this Colterville was on the map," Ellen sighed as she slapped a worn pre-End map against the cracked and faded dashboard. "All it had in this area were a bunch of small towns kind of spread out. Trent in the Dells told me that there were a lot of industrial parks and shipping depots with the railroad and interstates close by. Maybe that's what brought people to this Colterville. Still..." 

	"Hey, if it's guarded against zombies, it's a good start. Any other problems once we're there...well, we'll deal with them if we have to."

	The two women knew the little girl in the back could hear them discussing the options and the dangers, but they didn't bother trying to shield her from their concerns. Any child who could survive in the post-End badlands had to know where the dangers were. 

	Sammi leaned between the two front seats, her hazel eyes scanning the road ahead of them. Something was ahead, appearing dusty gray on the horizon.

	"I think that's it," she said. "That must be that town."

	Ellen turned and gave the eight year-old's brown ponytail a playful flip with her hand. 

	"Good eyes, kiddo," she said. "Now buckle in - they could have the death penalty for not wearing seat belts."

	Sammi squeaked and jumped back to her seat. She knew Ellen was mostly joking, but some of the places where they had been had some very arcane laws with coupled with harsh punishments.

	Ellen hoped this visit would be only long enough to trade for a new timing belt for Melissa to install and then they could continue on to Kansas City. The word had been out for a while now that KC was pretty stable. And the fact that it had been a big city before The End meant there was room enough.

	The only catch was that the guy running it, who proclaimed himself a king, demanded a tribute for anyone who passed through or wanted to stay. Ellen could understand the reasoning as it kept the riff-raff out. As they didn't own much, they could sign a service contract, working for the king of a certain amount of time in return for their right to stay. People said the terms were fairly decent. 

	Again, that made sense to Ellen as this king wanted to get skilled people into his "kingdom". Ellen had been a nurse before the zombies and Melissa could fix or drive just about anything that moved on wheels. 

	Maybe there would even be a school for Sammi. Her parents were long dead. As many roving groups of survivors joined together and split up, Sammi had wound up in the care of Ellen and Melissa. The two women had decided they were tired of roaming and wanted to head to Kansas City, so they amicably split from the band of nearly thirty people they were with at the time. And Sammi came with them.

	"Here we go," Melissa called as she read a billboard on the left side of the road. "It says, 'Welcome to Colterville. Home of the Church of the Resurrection. Founded by the Reverend T. Willie Colter in the Year One of the Resurrection.' Why, I do believe we're going to be church-ified."

	Melissa slowed the van as armed men at a gate in a long chain link fence waved them forward. After she stopped, a man in dark sunglasses and a pristinely white golf shirt approached. Above the breast pocket of the shirt was the same logo she had seen on the billboard - a golden cross planted in a pool of blood.

	"Good afternoon," the man said pleasantly enough. "What brings you to Colterville?"

	"Hello," Melissa replied, smiling politely as it seemed to be the safest thing to do. "As you can probably tell from under the hood, we have a timing belt that is long past its warranty and we were hoping to trade for a new one."

	"No works of man are eternal, only the Resurrection from the blood," the man said in a way that made it sound scriptural although neither woman remembered a passage like that from the bible. "We are blessed with a bounty of auto parts and you are most welcome to trade. We deal fairly and do not burden our wayfarer friends."

	"Well, that's just...great," Melissa said. "Then we'll do out thing and be on our way."

	"And surely you'll stay for worship this evening, won't you?" the man asked.

	It may have been phrased as a question, but it was certainly a command.

	"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Melissa agreed.

	Colterville was sprawling and had indeed incorporated the depots Ellen had spoken of. There was also plenty of farmland and neighborhoods. This T. Willie Colter had done well, although Melissa and Ellen could have done without the bloody cross logos everywhere.

	They proceeded to where a pre-printed map showed an automotive warehouse. It was huge but well-organized and ten minutes later they had a new timing belt in exchange of a wind-up wristwatch, one of several still in the original boxes they kept as a trading stash.

	As they were exiting the warehouses, Ellen noticed several more large buildings cordoned off by chain link fence - the only area they had seen like that within the security perimeter. 

	"Why the extra security?' she asked the sales clerk. 

	The man smiled and bowed his head slightly in reverence. 

	"That is the place for the Resurrected. You are free to observe."

	Curious, Melissa and Ellen, with Sammi in tow, approached the fence. They stopped short when they saw the figures moving about.

	"Zombies!" Sammi gasped.

	"They are the Resurrected," the clerk corrected. "Reverend Colter will explain at this evening's services."

	Soon after Melissa had the belt changed, they heard bells tolling. The clerk helpfully offered to show them to the church and they knew well enough to accept. They joined many others entering a huge white building which had onetime been a warehouse. But the large metallic cross on the roof with red paint that had been poured to resemble dripping blood told them what the building's new purpose was.

	There were easily over two thousand people in the pews which Ellen guessed had been scavenged from other smaller churches as the wood and construction varied. On the far end under the glow of electric lights was a raised stage with a wide pulpit large enough for three or four people to stand side by side behind it. In the background was again another golden cross in a pool of what was supposed to be blood.

	Somewhere, an electric organ began playing and everyone rose. From an offstage curtain to the right, a man in a dark red robe strode out. Melissa judged him to be in his late forties or early fifties with an avuncular face that reminded her of the stereotypical kindly doctor. A man behind her whispered that this was Reverend Colter. Following him were three little girls in crisp white dresses, the younger two around Sammi's age and the oldest about ten. 

	The two younger girls lit white tapered candles and took their seats on some ottomans placed on the left side of the stage. The older girl was carrying a crystal pitcher of water and a goblet. After filling the goblet, she placed it on the pulpit and took her place on another ottoman, setting the pitcher on the small table next to her.

	The reverend raised his hands and the congregation sat down. He looked slowly across the sea of adoring faces and smiled benignly. When he found the new arrivals, he spoke.

	"Brothers and sisters, we have wayfarers among us this evening. Shall I tell them the Word of the Resurrection?"

	"YES!" answered an enthusiastic chorus of voices.

	Colter gently closed his eyes as if receiving a blessing. When he spoke again, his voice carried majestically.

	"The time came when the Lord decided His children had once again strayed too far. He had casted Adam and Eve from Eden for their betrayal. He had flooded the world to cleanse the wickedness. He destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, leaving their ashes as a warning to mankind. And still we strayed.

	Then he delivered unto us the resurrected dead, the sinners whose time in Hell would be spent in their own rotting shells. And mankind cried out for the loss of their world for surely they believed not in the Lord but in their own petty accomplishments. And they did not understand the signs of the Lord."

	"No works of man are eternal, only the Resurrection from the blood," the congregation recited.

	"And the resurrections continued," Colter went on. "Those who were wicked had horrible flesh that others who were resurrected would not consume once they had first tasted. And so these wicked became resurrected within the prisons of their bodies. But the righteous were of pure flesh and they were devoured cleanly by the resurrected. And the righteous became resurrected only in the spirit, high up in Heaven in the company of the Lord."

	"We shall not fear the resurrected," the congregation recited. "For they are a sign on earth of the Lord's judgment."

	Melissa and Ellen shared a look. According to this religion, if you got bit and changed, you were damned. Only the ones who were completely eaten and didn't have a body to be reanimated were "saved". It was a nasty twist on the zombie plague, but this was not the time and place for a theological debate. They sat still through the rest of the service but as they got up to leave, another man in a white shirt approached them.

	"Reverend Colter would like to meet with you," the man said politely enough. "You needn't fear as he prefers to talk to all wayfarers who bless us with their presence."

	Ellen, Melissa, and Sammi followed the man into Colter's office, shutting the door as he exited. They were alone with Colter, who was seated without his crimson robes and with the oldest girl from the service. The girl was cleanly scrubbed and had her light brown hair neatly held by barrettes. From a side table, she poured glasses of iced tea and served the three guests before serving the reverend.

	"Thank you, Mary," Colter said kindly before he turned to the others. "Mary is one of my attendants. Several children serve me as you have seen and in return I am blessed by the presence of their purity."

	Introductions were made all around and Colter leaned back in his chair.

	"So I understand you came here with engine trouble. I hope all is well now?"

	"Yes, we're good to go," Melissa told him.

	Colter glanced at the clock. 

	"It will have to be in the morning as we secure all of the gates at sundown. You are free to stay in our guest hostel."

	"Thanks, but we're used to staying near the van," Melissa started.

	"No offense," Ellen quickly interjected.

	"None taken," Colter replied easily as he held a calming hand in the air. "We are honest folk here but I know how things are on the outside and understand how it breeds caution for those who live out there. And where does your journey lead, may I ask?"

	"Kansas City," Melissa said.

	"Ah, King Elander draws many people to his worldly paradise. But he does not respect any higher power. Please do not mistake the perceived safety you see with the safety of your souls. All I ask is that you tell those who may be interested in a righteous life of what we offer here. And you are always welcome to return if Kansas City is not what you had hoped."

	Ellen relaxed as they left Colter's office and walked back to the warehouse where their van was still parked.

	"Their religion still freaks me out, but they seem harmless enough," she noted. "No soft pitch or hard sell to get us to stay. Still, I'll be more comfortable when we're on the road tomorrow."

	"Amen," Melissa agreed.

	Reverend Colter stared out of his window as Mary cleared the glasses from the tables. There were only a few street lights on at the intersections at this hour and he could see the smaller, bobbing illumination of flashlights and lanterns as the faithful returned to their homes within the gates; they were safe from the outside. There were still the resurrected on the inside, but they were also behind fences, waiting to perform their service of judgment.

	"Will there be anything else, Reverend Colter?" Mary asked as she stood before him with her hands clasped demurely in front of her.

	Colter paused for a moment and then answered.

	"Yes, child. Let us commune."

	They both undressed and Colter sat back in his chair again with his legs wide apart. Knowing what was expected, Mary walked between them and knelt, opening her mouth as she bowed her head. Her tongue extended to meet the fleshy knob of Colter's glans, guiding it wetly into her mouth before sucking on the head. Her head inched lower, taking more of him - more than she could when they first communed three years ago.

	Colter watched the prim little girl dutifully sucking him, her lips making an occasional rude slurp as she momentarily lost her suction on him while bobbing up and down along his shaft. Behind her angelic face, the ten year-old was using her tongue like a professional from one of the traveling pleasure caravans, lapping and slithering all over the reverend's offering. Taking her head in his hands, he lifted her from his prick. She stood and climbed into his lap, balancing her knees on his thighs while he fingered her hairless cleft. She was already moist and it didn't take long to have the preteen's twat dripping eagerly.

	The reverend took his young attendant by the hips and lowered her until her smooth cunny lips were separated by his cock head. With a hard yank, he pulled her down, entering her roughly enough to make the child gasp from the pain. It was always like this on the first thrust, making a girl (for Mary was not his first by any means) understand who was in control. And the man who could penetrate the small sex of a youngster could also penetrate her very essence to know her soul.

	Beads of sweat dotted Mary's forehead, darkening a few strands of hair. With the child firmly lanced by his cock, Colter leaned forward, sucking on her nipples while his hands gripped the fleshy globes of her rump.

	"Your body pleases me," he said to her when he was done. 

	Mary looked down proudly at the stiff little nipples gleaming with spit as they pointed from her otherwise flat chest. Perhaps in another year she would begin to grow the mounds that would please him even more. 

	Holding her by the rear, Colter moved her up and down on his prick, slowly at first and gaining momentum. He knew how she responded best and subtly shifted the girl's weight to add extra pressure in certain areas of her sex as he made her ride him. Mary was panting and groaning as he ravished the tightness of her girlish cunt. Harder and harder he worked her, making the juices of her pussy slosh obscenely as they polished his cock. A mass of garbled sounds tumbled from her mouth as she came and she swayed as if she might fall. But the reverend did not let up on the force of his copulation with the child, relishing the heat and succulence of her prepubescent body for much longer after the girl's climax was done.

	"I shall anoint you," he grunted.

	Mary murmured a prayer of thanksgiving as he erupted, sending a hot load of seed into her ten year-old womb.

	Colter watched her as she was filled. In another year or two, she would likely be taken with his child. What a lovely sight she would be, bouncing on his cock with her young belly swelling with his issue and her new little breasts engorged with milk. 

	It had been the same with his earlier attendants. Each one's puberty accelerated by pregnancy. When they were too far along to be safely used in their vaginas, there was always the other nearby hole to use. That never came as a surprise as he had always prepared them for that. Mary, too, had recently learned what it meant to have her reverend thrusting into her bowels and seeding her there so she would be ready when the time came.

	After the babies were born, he married his attendants off to his faithful. The men were proud to raise the offspring of the man they revered along with any future children of their own.

	An outsider might consider this odd, but Colter knew why this was. Where there had been fear and chaos, he brought faith and order to the radically changed world. Everything now had meaning and people were desperate for guidance when it seemed that Hell had truly extended its dominion to the world. 

	Afterward, he sat patiently while Mary used warm washcloths to clean his crotch and then washed herself.

	"Tell me, Mary. What do you think of the girl who was here - Samantha would be her proper name, yes?"

	"She's pretty, even if she was a little dusty. Is it always so dirty out in the unblessed world?"

	"It is far filthier than that. Which of the women is her mother?"

	"Neither. Her parents died some time ago."

	"Ah, so she is an orphan. Neither woman has any rightful claim to her."

	"Will you commune with her, Reverend? Can she stay?"

	"I will commune with her tomorrow. The rest will be in her hands."

	Sammi sighed happily as she walked from the locker room in the warehouse that the manager had left unlocked for the trio's use. Her hair was still slightly damp but she didn't mind as she felt nicely clean. Showers and full baths were a rare luxury in the badlands but Ellen and Melissa had said there was plenty of running water, hot and cold, in this Kansas City place they spoke of.

	Sammi certainly hoped so. This place didn't seem so bad, either. It had been nice to talk to Mary and she had seen other children at the service including the other two who had been with Mary. The service itself had been kind of weird and mostly boring, but it sure beat getting chased by zombies and outlaws. As she walked into the morning sunshine, she thought about asking the women if they could all stay a little longer when a hand reached from behind and clamped over her mouth.

	A half hour later, two men were carrying Sammi to Colter's huge pulpit. The girl had been stripped naked and gagged and struggled fiercely as she was maneuvered inside the pulpit. It was large enough for her to easily fit inside and she was quickly bound facedown with her upper body on a shelf inside. Her legs were hanging down and she kicked fiercely until her ankles were grabbed and tied so that her legs were spread far apart. 

	Sammi wept as she was left feeling terribly exposed. As she lay there, she had the sick feeling that she was not the first person to have been tied up in there like that. Someone approached her from behind, humming a hymn in a gentle voice. Sammi struggled desperately within her bonds and the humming stopped.

	"Sammi, you must be still," Mary scolded. "I am to prepare you so that the Reverend may commune with you."

	Sammi didn't know what communing meant, but being tied up and naked was not how she wanted to be - alone or with Reverend Colter. She flinched as Mary's nimble fingers touched her exposed mound and smeared something on it.

	Mary thought Sammi had a very pretty pussy, nicely filled out and without the least bit of hair. She felt her own loins warming as she applied the oil to the fleshy lips of the younger girl's vulva. Sometimes, Reverend Colter enjoyed watching attendants commune with each other. 

	Smiling at the memory of her nervousness the first time, Mary imagined what it would be like to commune with Sammi. The two other attendants right now were Sammi's age, too, and Mary enjoyed letting the reverend watch her with one or both of the others as their youthful, nude bodies writhed and twisted together until they gave each other blessings between their legs. It was only a month ago that Mary had given Anne, the newest attendant, her first blessing from another girl. The eight year-old's cunny had been so juicy after her blessing and Mary could practically taste her again on her salivating tongue.

	So lost in her thoughts was Mary that she realized she must have coated Sammi's snatch several times over. Blushing, she parted the Sammi's buttocks and liberally oiled the puckered opening there. She disregarded Sammi's indignant grunts from her gag, knowing that the pulpit's thick wood and padded interior would keep Sammi from interrupting the reverend while he communed with her. 

	The congregation sat as one, following Reverend Colter's signal. Daytime services were not that common, but the reverend did call them on occasion when he felt the spirit. They gazed at him adoringly, unable to see anything behind the pulpit.

	Colter had fought down a smirk when he saw the gleaming baldness of Sammi's delicious-looking pussy. Mary had clearly enjoyed her work while lubricating the girl and he could hardly blame her. The inner shelf had been installed at just the right height, so when he parted his robes, his hard-on was aligned perfectly with the helpless girl's presented cunt.

	He began with the usual recitations, speaking more loudly to goad the audience to answer him just as loud. Sammi was squirming as he pressed the tip of his head into the tiny folds of her pussy. As thousands of voices shouted "No works of man are eternal, only the Resurrection from the blood," he lunged with his hips as if caught in the spirit, boring through the eight year-old's well-oiled cherry. Sammi bucked as her cuntlet was viciously torn open, but her gag-muffled screams were lost.

	Colter roared verses to the crowd who replied with equal frenzy. Many in the pews were shaking and rocking with fervent passion and he was doing the same, plunging in and out of the little girl's battered but painfully snug snatch. He could feel the hotness of her blood soaking his cock and got the spirit.

	"Know that it is with blood that we are judged and with blood that we know the Lord!"

	The crowd yelled wordlessly at this new verse. The adulation and the clenching of a child's sex on his cock set him off, pumping his sobbing little sex mate with his bountiful goo.

	Mary had been clenching her thighs and rubbing them together during the sermon. She had a brief but sharp orgasm when she saw Reverend Colter pull back, revealing to her Sammi's deflowered cunt with blood-stained jism pouring from between the stretched labia of  her hairless mound.

	Not done, Reverend Colter leaned forward again, his cock finding its way between Sammi's smooth ass cheeks. He knew he could go again with the intoxicating mix of little girl sex and pure devotion from his followers. He began a new rant which his congregation punctuated enthusiastically.

	"We are the righteous, lifted high in the eyes of the Lord over the outlaws and their endless greed!"

	"Hallelujah!"

	"Over the would-be kings in their pitiful and Godless cities!"

	"Hallelujah!"

	"Over the whores and the lairs of perversion!"

	"Hallelujah!"

	"Over the sodomites and their wickedness!"

	The next "Hallelujah!" was accompanied by a brutal thrust into Sammi's ass. The eight year-old's eyes bulged and her face reddened beneath her gag as her anus was wrenched open. Mary had lubed her thoroughly, making the cock's entry into little rectum a thing of relative ease despite its virgin status. Sami tried to work her muscles to resist him, but she was too oily and her exertions only helped to increase Colter's pleasure as he brutalized the warm depths of her bowels. But by the fifth thrust Sammi found salvation when she fainted.

	She didn't know how long her rape had been going on, but Sammi came to as the reverend was still preaching while his thick meat heartily plunged in and out of her compact rear end. She suffered in the darkness of the pulpit, the edge of the shelf digging into her hips with each raping jab into her ass. At last, the buggery ended with another slimy load of semen getting pumped well into her body.

	After the church emptied, the men untied her and carried her back to Colter's office. 

	"Are you ready to be with us, child?" he asked kindly.

	Humiliated and in pain, Sammi summoned the strength to give him a look of such venom that he actually jerked back. Sorrowfully, he looked at the men and gestured.

	Mary entered the office and looked at the stains where Sammi had been.

	"Where is she?" the girl asked.

	"Passing to judgment," Colter said solemnly.

	Mary bowed her head.

	Ellen wondered what the men were waiting for as they surrounded the two women with rifles aimed. They were next to the van, but had no hope of getting into it before they'd be filled with lead. A different van pulled in and a man got out.

	"Judgment," was all he said and the others hustled Melissa and Ellen to the gate that one of them was unlocking. The women were shoved in and another man from the van jogged up, cradling Sammi. Without a word, he tossed her in and stepped away as the gate was locked. 

	Acting as if this was as commonplace as taking out the trash, the men nonchalantly got into their vehicles and drove away. Ellen looked at the crying girl she had taken in her arms.

	"He hurt me," Sammi wept. "He hurt me bad and did it again."

	Ellen assumed she meant Colter but didn't understand until she saw the bloodstained crotch of the little girl's faded jeans. Both women hugged Sammi but Melissa quickly pulled back.

	"I don't know what good it will do, but we'd better move," she said, pointing to the walking dead approaching them.

	The women scrambled to their feet, each taking one of Sammi's arms. The little girl gamely ran as fast as she could, but the agony between her legs and in her rear quickly drained her strength after an initial boost of adrenaline. They ducked into the first warehouse, dodging more zombies they had caught unaware before they exited and tried the second building. 

	The building lights had no power, but the massive storage areas did have skylight windows. After opening a door to an office area, they found it too dark to try. Despite Sammi's slower pace, they managed to avoid being cornered. 

	"Let's try this next room," Melissa said, indicating a large overhead door that was coated with years dust. "That may not have been opened since The End and the Z's may leave us alone in there."

	The door creaked in reluctance but rolled up as Ellen tugged on it. On the other side were the chewed bones of dismembered skeletons.

	"Bad option," Ellen breathed. "Next building?"

	They left the second building for the third. The high shelves were still filled with shipping cartons and there were no signs of undead inhabitants.

	"They didn't clear these out?" Ellen said as she looked at all of the boxes.

	"Maybe they gave T. Willie the willies," Melissa offered. "But look - nothing's been touched in here."

	Melissa found a lidless tool box on a forklift and removed a large crowbar that would be handy for a weapon. On a hunch, she tried starting the vehicle, but the battery was dead. Noticing Sammi had sat down, Melissa decided a short break might be in order.

	"Sammi, stay here," she said. Ellen and I are going to take a quick look around and see if we can find any other things we can use to hold them off.

	The women left, quickly searching and coming up with a sledgehammer that Ellen was satisfied with. When they heard Sami scream, the scrambled back to find her standing, pressing herself against a pile of boxes as ten zombies stumbled closer. One of the boxes fell from the pile and spilled its contents - blue spray cans with yellow writing.

	Four more zombies suddenly appeared behind the women and they lost a couple of panicked minutes swinging their new weapons until the rotting heads had been cracked and splattered open. They turned to find Sammi throwing the cans at the zombies, which did little to slow them until one of the cans bounced off a head, knocking the cover off. When it fell, it landed on its top, breaking off the spray nozzle and sending the contents into the air, propelled by the gases inside.

	As the cloud formed, the zombies stopped, jerking and swaying. With confused moans, they staggered away. Melissa and Ellen shared a look and ran to the girl. Melissa picked up one of the cans and looked. 

	"Zom-B-Gone," she said. "I remember those commercials at The End."

	"Shit, it actually works?" Ellen asked incredulously. 

	Ellen and Melissa took as many as they could carry and told Sammi to do the same. After finding another cluster of walking dead, they sprayed them, sending the animated corpses in the other direction.

	Melissa had an odd expression as she watched them leave.

	"What?" Ellen asked.

	"One of those Z's - the one in the blue coat. I think that was Chris Van What's-his-face. They guy who sold all that crap on TV."

	"Did he do this stuff?"

	"I don't remember...yeah, I think he did. Too bad he didn't believe in his own product. He could have saved the world."

	"Hmph," Ellen snorted. "Bastard deserved getting bit. I got one of his 'Pimp My Bagel' things for Christmas one year from my brother. It was one of those toaster ovens with a hip-hop soundtrack and strobe lights."

	"Eww," Melissa cringed. "I guess Van Douchebag did deserve to be in T. Willie's hell in a zombie shell."

	"But now we have something to work with," Ellen said. "Sammi, we're getting out of here."

	Sammi held up a can and nodded.

	"I'm ready."

	They waited until it was after midnight and deeply dark, easily keeping the walking dead at bay with the spray. Each woman was wheeling a shop cart stacked with boxes of Zom-B-Gone - the tribute they would provide to enter Kansas City. As expected, the parking lot was deserted except for their abandoned van. When the men had demanded the keys the previous day, Melissa had defiantly tossed them over the fence. Nobody had thought to ask Ellen if she had spares - which she did.

	When they reached the chain link fence, Melissa quickly made them a door using a pair of bolt cutters found in the Van Rilke Enterprises warehouse. They unlocked the van and quickly loaded it. Sammi laid down in her bench seat behind Ellen and Melissa's seats while Ellen carefully unzipped the girl's pants and examined her. 

	"I know it hurts," Ellen said. "But I think you'll be okay. We'll wait 'til we're out of here and I'll get you cleaned up and take a closer look."

	Sammi nodded tearfully, wincing as her jeans were put back in place.

	"Fuel cells good," Melissa called out from the front. "Let's move."

	After The End, many vehicles were converted to various forms of hybrids by creative and enterprising survivors. With a majority of the world's population eaten or walking dead, no one was too concerned about the environment, but getting maximum driving range between safe locations was paramount. The van, like many others, had a mix of petroleum and electric fuel cells. What they lost in top speed was gained in mileage. Melissa had calculated that they could reach Kansas City with some fuel to spare.

	They drove away at a casual speed - nothing too fast or slow to garner attention. While they were planning, they had argued about how they would leave Colterville. 

	Melissa had been all for cutting a hole through the town's outer fence and leaving without notice. Within the town, the zombies would eventually figure out that there was a hole in their own inner fence and would go off in search of a nice dinner.

	"There'll be a whole lot of resurrecting in the ol' town tonight," she had laughed. "Let's see how the bastards like meeting the Lord' judgment close up and personal without a fence in the way."

	"What about the families?" Ellen asked somberly. "Look, these people may be misguided, but most of them don't deserve that."

	"Yeah, and I don't want the kids getting eaten," Sammi added before her face tightened with a memory of one girl. "At least not most of them."

	So they did it the majority's way. They had been around enough to know several constants in most enclaves such as this. After midnight, the guards' minds became sleepier so they were easier to fool. Also, the guards stuck with duty after midnight were not usually the prize gems from the jewelry box.

	The power and phone lines for the guard gates were strung up in plain view and Melissa cut the phone lines for the one they had first entered two days earlier. Then they drove up to the closed gate.

	Gary Johanssen and his men knew their job was to keep unwanted people from getting into Colterville at night. But when a van pulled up from the inside wanting to get out, they were unsure of what to do. Gary signaled for one man to open the gate. While the others trained their shotguns on the vehicle, it rolled forward slowly. That made Gary relax - people usually hurried if they were causing trouble.

	He approached the driver's side window and saw the woman behind the wheel. That made him relax too - women usually weren't the ones causing trouble. At least not the really big trouble. She motioned him over and he swallowed hard. One of the little troubles women caused Gary was that he got really nervous when he spoke with them.

	"I'm glad you guys are on your feet," the woman said. "There's a hole in the fence by the auto parts warehouse and the resurrected are getting loose. That's a good thing because you can get your judgment, right?"

	"Ummm...er...I guess," Gary replied as he was scratching his head. 

	Reverend Colter always preached about judgment, but the resurrected made Gary very uneasy. He didn't want to appear to be unfaithful, especially after being promoted to Auxiliary Guard Squad Leader Third Class, but having those nasty things running all over putting the  bite on people and eating their brains (that's what the old movies showed) didn't sit well with him.

	After a hard minute of contemplation, Gary had an idea. He went to the guard shack to call his captain. The captain was much better at making decisions, but Gary found that the phone was not working. He was tempted to cry, but Auxiliary Guard Squad leaders of any class didn't cry in front of the men. He shuffled back to the van at a loss.

	Melissa bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the dimwitted guard when he returned with the look of a lost puppy. Leaning out of the window, she made a suggestion.

	"I have an idea. Why don't you go for help on the inside and I'll drive around and spread the word on the outside."

	Looking very relieved that someone else had given him a plan, he quickly motioned her forward.

	"You'd better go fast and let the others know," he called over his shoulder as he trotted to the guards' golf cart. "I have to get the captain."

	Melissa gave him a wave and the van sped off into the night, bound for Kansas City.



madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm






















This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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