The Day is Dying

We smelled them long before we saw them.1

“Everyone quiet,” Geoffrey told us, standing momentarily in the doorway, but we already knew.2

The men assembled themselves around the barricades of the front door, peeking through the boards on the windows to the town and the winding road leading up to the church in which we waited. They clutched their weapons, several club-like table legs and a stainless steel walking cane, in white knuckled, sweaty fists.3

“Oh God, Jesus Almighty, save us, save us…!”cried a woman, whom I recognized as widow Forester, between sobs, crushing a crucifix to her breast as she sat cross-legged behind the sofa. Agnes Marcel, the Sunday School teacher, comforted her in her quiet, grandmother voice.4

“There’s one,” whispered Father Patrick at the window.5

“Where?” asked Geoffrey, who had become the unofficial leader.6

“Just passing the Warwick’s house, see him? He’s running.”7

“Yes, now I do. A boy. Is he one of them?”8

“I can’t tell.”9

“Me neither.”10

“There must be more coming, I can smell them.”11

“I’ll check the other side, maybe they’re coming from the country.”12

“Father, can I have a look?” asked Tony Marks, one of Mrs. Marcel’s Sunday School pupils.13

Father Patrick took a step back and Tony peered out.14

“I know him! That’s Matthew Kainer, he lives across the street from me!”15

Father Patrick took another look, “I know him, too. The Kainer’s used to come here until a few months ago.”16

Tony leaned a little closer to the window and squinted his eyes against the sunlight, “he doesn’t look like one of them. At least, I don’t think so.”17

“There’s nothing coming on the other side. Any more show up here?” asked Geoffrey.18

“No, just the boy so far,” replied Father Patrick. “It’s Matthew Kainer, do you know him?”19

“Kainer? Yeah, I think so. That’s Arnold’s kid, right?”20

“Yes.”21

“He used to come to my house to play sometimes,” Tony added quietly.22

Geoffrey looked out the crack. The boy was a lot closer now. For a little guy, he can sure run fast. 23

“If he’s not one of them,” asked old Henry Glasson from a bench in the porch, “where’s that smell coming from?”24

“Here, this side,” I said from my spot in front of the office window, “about twenty of them, they just came into sight.”25

“Jesus! We aren’t safe here! They are coming for us!” cried the widow.26

Geoffrey rushed in and looked.27

“Do you think they know we’re here?” I asked as he watched them.28

“No, they can’t possibly. We’ve been too careful,” he replied.29

“What if they figured out who’s missing?” asked a woman from the closet.30

“Then we’ll fight them off, that’s what,” replied Geoffrey, and he left the office.31

I followed him.32

“No,” he turned and said to me, “Go back and lock the door. You’re safer in there, keep them calm.”33

“No Geoffrey, I’m coming with you. I’m strong, I can help fight if they get in.”34

He folded his arms around me.35

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.36

“I won’t,” I told him.37

He kissed me quickly before letting me go and returned to the men in the porch.38

“The boy is almost here,” Father Patrick informed us.39

“Is he one of them?” Geoffrey asked.40

“No, he’s not,” Tony said quickly.41

“We still can’t tell,” said Father Patrick.42

Henry Glasson rose from the bench next to the coat room and stood beside me.43

“What if the boy wants in?” asked Father Patrick.44

“Well, we’ll let him in,” said Tony.45

“Tony, this is a grown-up discussion,” Father Patrick calmly told him.46

Geoffrey shifted on his feet.47

“What about the other ones coming from the north?” asked Father Patrick.48

“Yeah,” said Gleeson, as he balanced himself with his cane, “they’ll see the doors open and they’ll know we’re here.”49

“He might be infected…” added the Father Patrick.50

“He’s not!” cried Tony, “just look at him! We can’t leave him out there, they’ll get him!”51

“He’s made it this long just fine,” sneered Gleeson coldly.52

“We have to think of the safety of the people in the church, Tony,” said Father Patrick gently.53

“But he’s just a kid! He’s scared!” Tony cried, his face red, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “They run in packs, like wolves, the infected ones! Matthew is alone! He’s not one of them!”54

“If the boy comes,” said Gleeson matter-of-factly to Geoffrey, “we’ll just have to ignore him. If the other’s see us open the door for him we’re as good as dead.”55

“Yes!” yelled the widow from the office, “they’ll kill us all! Don’t let him in!”56

“He’s just a kid!” cried Tony, “he’s just a kid!”57

“All of you, be quiet!” snapped Geoffrey, who had been deep in thought throughout the entire discussion. “The trees to the Northeast are thick enough that the others wouldn’t have seen Matthew yet. They won’t see us open the door, either.”58

Gleeson beat his cane on the floor.59

“This is ridiculous! We’re not letting him in!” shouted Gleeson, the saggy skin under his chin wagging.60

“If he’s not infected, we’re letting him in,” stated Geoffrey, “case closed.”61

Father Patrick said nothing.62

“You’re going to kill us all, Geoffrey Wright. It’ll be your fault,” whispered Gleeson, menacingly.63

“Shut up, Gleeson,” shot Geoffrey.64

“What do we do about the others? They are heading this way…” I quietly asked. The smell was getting stronger, more putrid. The church was hot and stuffy as the late August afternoon slowly turned to evening.65

“We’ll just have to hope that they are going to pass by. They have no reason to come in here. But if they do, you all know the drill right?”66

Father Patrick, Tony, and I nodded, Gleeson looked sour. Geoffrey pushed past Gleeson and went to the window. Outside, the boy, little Matthew Kainer, was just getting up from stumbling. He was slowing down, he was getting tired, but he was only about a block away.67

“He’s not one of them,” stated Geoffrey. “He still runs like a boy, he doesn’t act like them, his color is good. Gleeson and Tony go watch the ones coming from the North. Tell us if they look suspicious. We’ll let Matthew in.”68

Gleeson and Tony headed for the office.69

“Take a table leg, Tony,” Geoffrey added.70

Tony nodded.71

“Let’s move this,” Geoffrey said, motioning to the pile of pews used to barricade the door, “help me lift.”72

We slid the pews away and into the corner, Father Patrick pulled the key out of his black pants and stood posed to unlock the door.73

“Wait,” said Geoffrey, “let’s see what he does.”74

Matthew Kainer was only about 10 meters away. We could faintly hear the sound of his ragged breathing. His knees were scraped and bleeding, his denim short overalls and red shirt were brown with dust. Tears streaked down his cheeks and the dirt clung to the little streams. He was almost at the parking lot when he fell, face down on the gravel road. He lay there for a moment and it seemed to me that he was giving up. 75

“What’s going on?!” shouted Gleeson from the office, “Is the bastard here yet?”76

“Don’t let him in!” frantically screamed some women in the office.77

The three of us in the porch stared at the boy. Slowly, the boy raised his head, first to the church, then to the tall, broad steeple, then to the sky, as if to God. 78

“The others are getting close!” Tony yelled.79

“Hurry, kid,” I whispered under my breath, “come on, get up, get up.”80

He propped himself up, one leg at a time and began walking again. He quickly broke into a jog. He neared the church, ran up the steps…81

“Sanctuary!” the little boy cried, beating his fists on the door, “Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Sanctuary!”82

“Let him in, let him in!” shouted Geoffrey.83

Father Patrick fumbled with the keys. He jammed them in, turned the lock, and flung open the door.84

“Hurry child! Come inside!” yelled Father Patrick.85

The boy stood dazed for a moment on the step. I realized quickly that he was one of them, his skin was pale and his eyes were dim and fading. He was fresh, but one of them.86

“No! Shut the do-…!” I cried, but it was too late.87

The boy who was no longer a boy threw himself upon Father Patrick, gnashing his teeth and digging his little boy nails into Father Patrick’s forearm. Father Patrick stumbled backwards and tripped over and onto the pews. The boy seized the opportunity, pushing his little boy feet against the floor and launching himself on top of the Father, sinking his teeth into the tight flesh of Father Patrick’s neck.88

I screamed. Geoffrey darted to pull the boy off Father Patrick. The women were screaming, they could hear what was going on but could not see it. I heard the office door slam shut. I ran to the front door and threw it shut, turning the key to lock the door. Had the others seen? Was it too late?89

Geoffrey grabbed the boy by his overall straps and flung him against the wall. The boy crashed into a basin of holy water on the wall and landed with a lifeless thump on the floor. 90

“Father Patrick!” I shrieked.91

He lay sprawled out on the pews, arms at right angles to his body as if crucified. Blood poured from his throat onto the hymn books, the wooden floor. 92

“Jesus,” I moaned and sank to the floor. 93

Geoffrey ripped off his shirt and pressed it against the priest’s gushing wound. Father Patrick shook and tried to speak, but he only sputtered blood. With one final tremor, Father Patrick’s life slipped away and his head lay back, limp.94

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound my uneven breaths and the wondering calls from the office.95

“We have to get him out, he’s going to turn into one of them. Help me with his legs,” Geoffrey said.96

I thought for a moment.97

“No, he’ll tell the others we’re here. Put him in the cellar, it locks,” I said hurriedly.98

“What’s going on?! What happened?!” called the people from the office.99

We hauled the Father’s body to the cellar and threw it –as gently as we could- down the stairs. We locked the door and propped the Father’s solid oak podium against it.100

“How long does it take them to turn?” I asked, huffing.101

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen one do it.”102

There was a quiet rustle from the porch, we stood at the front of the church. In the faint light that the boards allowed, we saw the tiny figure of the boy who was no longer a boy, but a monster, wander down the aisle. 103

“I killed him, didn’t I?” the thing asked.104

“Yes,” I answered, terrified.105

“That was Father Patrick, wasn’t it?”106

“Yes, it was.”107

“Oh God,” the thing whispered, and a few sobs escaped its lifeless body.108

Geoffrey slowly edged closer to the large, metal candelabra.109

“Yes,” said the thing who was once a boy, “you should kill me. I deserve it. I killed someone and now I should die. I am a monster.” 110

I stood in horror as the little figure walked closer to us, in slow, little boy steps.111

“I tried to get away from them, but they’re all over town. All over. I was hiding in the store and Mr. Mulligan got me, I ran fast but he got me. And I could think about was Father Patrick, at the church when we used to go, and telling us that story about the blind guy who was cured by Jesus and I thought maybe Father Patrick could cure me. But I didn’t run fast enough.”112

Geoffrey had his hand around the candelabra, but he didn’t make a move.113

“Please, I might do it again. Don’t let me do it again,” the little boy voice cried.114

Geoffrey took a step forward, raising the candelabra. 115

“Geoffrey, no. I’ll do it,” I whispered to him.116

He shook his head.117

“He’s still a boy on the inside,” I pleaded, “you can’t – you can’t kill him like that, not when he’s just a boy.” My voice was thick with emotion.118

“I won’t hurt her,” promised the thing. 119

“I’m going to be behind you with this,” Geoffrey said sternly, raising the candelabra, “and if he tries anything, he’ll get it.”120

“I promise I won’t,” said the thing again.121

I walked towards the little figure and crouched down in front of it.122

“Will I go to heaven?” the little boy asked with tears in his dull, lifeless eyes.123

I stared at him, the face of the little boy, Matthew Kainer, the face of the innocent. I took a deep breath.124

“I don’t know,” I said with tears in my own eyes.125

“I killed someone, I probably can’t go anymore, can I?” he whispered.126

I shook my head.127

“Do it, please?” he said softly.128

I took a deep breath and nodded, placing one hand on his head and another on his shoulder. He was cold, so cold. A quick jerk was all it took and the little boy collapsed forward, into my arms, entirely lifeless at last. I lowered his small body to the ground and closed his eyes. 129

The smell and sound of the undead outside had surrounded us. They were pounding on the door, much like the boy had done, but not for sanctuary this time. They wanted the living that were inside, but some of us, myself for one, were already dead.130