Slumped against a hard plastic chair in the back of the van, Shavian couldn’t think of any reason the seat should be so uncomfortable, unless the idea was to keep the rider’s spine in so much pain they had to sit ramrod straight.
She could hear the moans of the undead: they penetrated even the thick walls of the armored vehicle. Their drones rattled around in her head and scratched at the back of her brain. She curled forward, she pushing her hands through her hair in an effort to keep her head from exploding.
Shut up, shut up, shut up. WON’T YOU JUST SHUT UP!
Amber brown eyes snapped open. Slowly, she raised her head and scanned the cab. She was doing it again. Did anyone see her? No, even the dog had left.
Trying to slow her breathing she sat back thinking. What was this? What the hell was all this?
Why would God allow these demons, the spawn of hell, to crawl up and harm his followers?
She needed to think. What was she taught?
The end of time: earthquakes, floods, hurricanes, wars of man, all would lead to it. Wasn’t this supposed to be the end of evil, a triumph of righteousness? Hold the phone, only Jesus was supposed to rise from the dead!
She couldn’t remember if he was supposed to rise before or after the days of gross wickedness in which the earth would be defiled, though.
Well it sure wasn’t getting any more defiled than the dead coming back to attack the living!
Standing up, Shavian pulled a leather thong from her pocket, shaking it out before wrapping it around her long red hair. She tied it back, her mind distracted with thought. ‘This is what they meant; this is what all the training was for, “ she said and opened the weapons lockers. She pulled open a drawer fill with police issue pistols.
“If this is the Lord’s test-“ She pulled back the slide and stuffed in a clip. “Then I shall be his prophet of war.”
She looked over the pistols. This wouldn’t be enough for the end of days; she was going to need far more. She pulled on bandoleers of bullets. She was fairly sure none of the ammo would fit her pistols, but it had to fit something. Right?
She stood before the back door of the van; the whole vehicle was shaking around her from the press of the undead beyond. She tried to take a calming breath but it was already ragged.
This wasn’t going to work.
She stuffed the pistols into the waistband of her jeans and went back to the rack to find two AR-15s shoved to one side. She pulled one out and then thought about it and grabbed the other as well. The door became a problem now; with both rifles she lost the ability to open it. No bother, she leaned back and kicked the door. It opened with a satisfying bang as she stepped forward into the chaos beyond.
Everyone, mortal and zombie alike, turned to the noise of the door banging against the side of the van. With a full audience, she thought she better live up to her self-designated role of ‘Prophet’ and spouted off the first words that came to her while she pulled both triggers.
The living went diving for cover, desperately wishing to stay living. The zombies, already mostly dead, didn’t bother and were cut to ribbons.
Shavian was half a clip in when she remembered why she only ever fired one of these rather heavy rifles. The stock pressed to her left hip slipped and the next round whipped her arm back, pulling her off balance. She spun into the ground, falling from the van. She hit the pavement with a yelp.
The silence was immediate. Shavian lay half under the van, holding her throbbing left arm.
“What the hell was that?” Elliott called out from beyond.
“The waves of the sea will heave themselves beyond their bounds!” Shavian yelled. “The earth will reel to and fro as a drunken man. These judgments and wars will ultimately result in the full end of all nations!”
“Are you okay?” Elliott said, confused. He walked to her.His whole focus was on her and he didn’t see the wounded zombie stand up behind him. He wasn’t aware of its open mouth and its ragged teeth coming down on his shoulder like a poisoned bear trap.
Shavian also wasn’t aware that she’d done it till the Zombies head blossomed into crimson. She’d rolled over, pointed her remaining rifle at Elliott and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion.
“I’m a Prophet of God, of course I’m fine,” she said, still pointing the rifle at the stunned Elliott.