The Vagabond Codes Page 14

  The Stranger signaled to move forward.

  Finger on the safety of his rifle, Ben darted across the yard and met the others at the front doors.

  “You ever get the feeling like we’re being watched?” Cameron whispered, just a hair too loud for Ben’s comfort.

  Danna rolled her eyes.

  “Well,” Cameron carried on with a smirk; “I don’t feel like that now, so this place is heavenly — no pun intended.”

  “I’m so glad you think so,” Ben muttered. “Your intuitions truly have kept us alive.”

  “Some day you’ll thank me for it, little brother,” Cameron replied.

  Then they each grabbed a handle and pulled.

  Unlocked.

  That’s weird, Ben thought. He stepped in. His footsteps echoed across the expanse. The air was stuffy, yet clean, with scents of sticky wood polish and incense. It was dark inside but for a single red candle set on a fancy table at the far side of the church. Looks like a banquet for one, he thought. The candle cast a flickering crimson glow around it, reflecting especially upon a golden box in the center of the table.

  Ben turned around. “Someone’s here.”

  The Stranger nodded his head gravely and unslung his rifle. “Yes. But we’ll be safer here than at any other place during our mission.”

  “I don’t get it,” Ben said, furrowing his brow. He glanced at Cameron, who shrugged. “Danna?”

  “It’ll be okay,” she said. She, like Ben before, was shivering.

  “Okay, then.”

  Once they were inside, Cameron shut the doors and slid his hiking pole through the handles.

  “This stairway leads up to the choir loft,” the Stranger said in a low voice. “Us guys can set up there for the night. Danna, you can have the sacristy if you’d like some privacy.”

  “The what?” Ben asked.

  “It’s the room in the back where the priest gets ready to say Mass,” Danna explained. “Like putting on the vestments and such.”

  “Oh.”

  Ben didn’t know what a vestment was either. His family hadn’t been to church in a long time. Heck, he didn’t even know if he believed in God anymore. Not since Faith. Especially not since Mom and Dad.

  He’d given it quite a bit of thought, however. He’d tried to pray. Many times, in fact, since it all happened. But there was nothing but silence. The most deafening silence he could possibly imagine.

  Who knows? Maybe he wasn’t praying right. Or maybe he didn’t deserve to have God talk back to him. Just a few words of assurance would be all I need, he thought. Just something.

  “I’ll check out the choir loft,” he announced suddenly. He was tired. Maybe more tired than everyone else. But he’ll be darned if he showed it. Especially to Cameron.

  He tip-toed up the stairs, clearing the cobwebs and taking care not to knock over the piles of old hymnals stacked on the stairway. The choir loft was larger than he’d expected. The front half was lined with two rows of chairs with the fearsome organ on the far side. Behind the chairs were a half dozen cots folded and stacked against a piano.

  What a coincidence, Mr. Stranger, he thought.

  He leaned over the balcony and eyed the Stranger. The man cracked a smile. Ben rolled his eyes and waved them up.

  “Any weak floorboards?” Danna called up. “The last thing I wanna do is die in a church.”

  Ben looked down at her with a teasing smile and said: “C’mon, Danna, you’re being unbearable. Lighten up.”

  Once they’d all made it up, they dropped their packs in a chorus of weary thuds.

  Cameron picked up an old apple core. “Someone’s been here recently.”

  “It looks pretty old,” the Stranger said, examining it. He lifted his arm to toss it away.

  “Hey!” Cameron exclaimed. “I’ll eat what’s left of it.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Danna said.

  “What, you’ve never heard of apple crisps?”

  They spent the next half hour setting up for the night. After sleeping on the cold hard ground for the past few nights, Ben felt like they’d booked a room at a Hilton. He wanted to dive right onto his cot and check out until dawn, but he knew he’d better eat something first.

  They split a bag of jerky and three protein bars. Then they drew lots for the first watch.

  It fell to him and the Stranger. Sleep would have to wait.

  Ben lifted two chairs and set them next to a small window overlooking the churchyard. Placing his rifle across his lap, he peered outside.

  It was a black night. The clouds hung low, which stifled the moonlight and blended the rolling hills into an endless sea of darkness. It’d be hard to spot someone—or something.

  He thought about pulling out his night vision goggles; but the batteries barely last fifteen minutes, and he didn’t want to use them unless absolutely necessary.

  The Stranger sat down on the other stool and draped a knit blanket over his shoulders.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked.

  “Doesn’t that thing stink?”

  The Stranger smiled. “It hasn’t been on an old organ lady for a long time. The mothball smell is pretty much gone.”

  Ben wrinkled his nose then glanced over at Cameron, then at Danna. Both were fast asleep.

  “So?” the Stranger asked.

  “So what?”

  “I asked how you were doing.”

  “I’m all right,” Ben answered, perhaps too sharply. “Why?”

  “Just wondering. This isn’t all exactly easy, you know.”

  Ben shrugged. “Still alive, right?”

  The Stranger pulled the blanket tighter over his shoulders. Ben could tell he had more to say.

  “Just say it.”

  “I was just thinking. . . .” the Stranger said slowly. “You know that military officer—the one who told your father about the government giving his research to the UN?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He was my dad.”

  Ben leaned forward. That made sense. “So, he ruined his career too?”

  “I think my dad would say he was just doing his duty. God first; family second; America third — that was his motto.”

  “Yeah, definitely not our dad’s motto,” Ben replied. “Work first; prepare for the doomsday second; third, who knows.” He lowered his head. “I guess I shouldn’t be saying that, him being gone.”

  “It’s all right.”

  Ben picked at a chunk of dried mud on his boot. “Sometimes I forget about them. My parents, you know? For two, three days. But then I remember them at some random moment. And then I feel so guilty.”

  “Like you betrayed them?”

  “Kind of. But then again, when I do think about them. . . .”

  “It hurts.”

  Ben nodded. “It’s kinda like a vicious cycle. Whether to think about them all the time and all the bad things that happened, or just accept that they’re dead . . . and maybe the pain will go away.”

  “Pain will never go away as long as there’s evil in this world,” the Stranger said, looking out the window. “It’s unavoidable. I think when we experience pain, when we face it head on, it changes us. For better or for worse. For me, I always hope for the better.”

  “So you’re saying I shouldn’t try to move on?”

  The Stranger brushed a piece of grass off his pants. “Just keep them close to you,” he replied; “no matter how much you think about them. I think it was Cicero who said the life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.”

  “And photo albums.”

  “Didn’t know those still existed,” the Stranger said with a smile.

  “Dad always kept photos around the house. He was old school.”

  “You were close with him, weren’t you?”

  Ben gave a half-hearted shrug. “I liked tech stuff; he did too. Apparently, that made us ‘close.’ People made a bigger deal about it than it was. ‘Two peas-in-a-pod,’ they’d say. The truth is, he was
n’t around much; and when he was, he was just tired. Just checked out, you know? By the time I got to middle school, I didn’t even bother showing him things that I’d built or my cool science projects.”

  The Stranger nodded.

  “With—” Ben swallowed. “Well, when Cameron started to get into trouble, things just kind of fell apart. Dad was gone all the time. And Mom, you know, was at the hospital. People changed. Then everything happened so fast.”

  “He’d be proud of you for what you and Cameron did. Saving all those kids.”

  Ben scoffed. “Not if he knew the other things I’ve had to do,” he said, patting his rifle. “Fourteen-year-olds who kill people go to prison. Not even to juvie. I mean, I’ve never even kept count.”

  The Stranger leaned his back against the wall and nodded solemnly. “You did what you had to do, as terrible as that sounds.”

  Ben paused. “I got kicked out of school, did you know that? The year before it happened.”

  The Stranger shook his head.

  “Yeah, I got into a fight during the middle of class. Just some random kid.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I hurt him. Pretty bad.”

  “How bad?”

  Ben swallowed. “Broken nose. Concussion.”

  “I’m sure you’re sorry.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just crazy, you know? I beat up that kid; really hurt him bad. And pretty soon I’m shooting people like it’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.”

  “Funny thing is, I can’t even remember what the fight was about. After I got kicked out, my mom put me in Sierra Madre. She thought it’d be a good influence on me. Religion and all that.”

  “Religion and all that, huh,” the Stranger said. “Smart lady.”

  Ben scoffed. “Well, apparently I didn’t know what a sacristy was.”

  “So, freshman year, the new kid at a new school.”

  “Yeah, it stunk. Most of the kids in my class went to middle school together, so everybody already knew each other when I showed up.”

  “But you knew Tomás, so that helped.”

  “He’s not exactly that cool if you didn’t notice.” Ben chuckled. “So many things were stupid, though. We had to wear uniforms. Sure, you didn’t have to worry about wearing cool clothes, but everyone was into making their hair look good. I spent forever every morning trying to get my hair right.”

  “I remember those days,” the Stranger said with a smile. “If you didn’t get your hair right, your day was ruined.” He tousled his matted mane. “Not anymore.”

  “Yeah,” Ben replied with a grim smile.

  The Stranger watched him, waiting for him to continue.

  Ben pursed his lips and looked out the window again. “Do you remember the first person you killed?” he asked quietly. “I do. Day after the Surge. We stopped at a small gas station to siphon what was left into the van. Two men jumped us. Thought Cameron and I were just two scared kids. We put a bullet each in their hearts.”

  The Stranger leaned forward.

  “Not one kid spoke the rest of the way to the retreat,” Ben added. “And I shot another man by the time we got there.”

  The Stranger was silent.

  Ben thought he was giving him that look that older people give when they think that look will make a kid feel better. He rolled his eyes. “You probably wanna say that I don’t deserve all this, etcetera.”

  “You don’t.”

  Ben stiffened. Pointing his finger out the window, he said: “Those kids back at the retreat? They don’t deserve any of this. I mean, they’re all alone! Their parents are dead; their families are gone. How messed up is that?”

  “They’re your responsibility, and you’re feeling the weight of that.”

  Ben snorted. “To say the least. They all need therapy or something.”

  He thought about Ron. He thought about Tabitha, three weeks before. And on and on. He even thought about the kid he’d beaten up. What was his name? Eric?

  “You don’t think it’s hopeless? All of this?”

  The Stranger shook his head. “As long as there’s still good in this world, then no.”

  Ben clicked his tongue. “Good? In this world? I don’t know, man. Look all around you. There’s not too much of a difference between good and bad these days.”

  The Stranger rubbed his chin and looked out the window. “Goodness still exists, even in the shadows and the pain. Friendship, courage, sacrifice; these have to come from somewhere. And it’s usually when we’re faced with evil or terrible difficulties that we prove our true friendship, find our courage.” His voice grew quiet, then he added, “And be willing to make those sacrifices.”

  “But that doesn’t mean it’s okay for people to do evil things just so good can come out of it. That’s messed up.”

  “No, it doesn’t make it okay. But perhaps our goodness, no matter where it comes from, won’t only save our friends, but also the people out there. Even the bad ones. Heck, it could even save the world.”

  “I’ll see it before I believe it,” Ben said, looking outside.

  “I think you will before this is all over,” the Stranger said with a soft smile. “Just remember: life is a gift. Sure, we have death, violence, vagabonds, sickness, you name it—”

  “Cannibals.”

  “Yes, and cannibals. But these things are all just a part of life. And even though they can overwhelm us, like a never-ending nightmare, it doesn’t mean that’s all there is. That’s not life. You are. I am. Cameron. Danna. Izzy. All of us. And as long as there’s life, there’s goodness.”

  Ben closed his eyes and rubbed the crown of his nose. “So, what you’re saying is just because the world is over and everything has gone to pot doesn’t mean that we’re — I mean, humanity — done for? It’s just more like—”

  “Consider it a change of scenery,” the Stranger said with a small grin.

  Ben shook his head and smiled. Maybe this guy isn’t so bad after all, he thought. Kind of like a warrior monk slash guidance counselor.

  Late in the night, Ben awoke. He’d had a strange dream, the type one remembered exactly what happened in it for only a brief moment, then it was lost forever. He rubbed his eyes and glanced over at his brother and the Stranger. Both were asleep.

  He turned over to his other side. Danna’s cot was empty. She must be on watch.

  But she wasn’t sitting at the window.

  A beam of pale moonlight passed through the window, past the choir loft and toward the far side of the mission.

  Wood creaked down below.

  He pulled out his pistol, slowly rolled off the cot, and peered over the balcony rail.

  Two pews back from the altar area knelt Danna. Illuminated by the moonlight, her hands were clasped together, and her head was fixated on the golden box.

  Ben couldn’t see her face, but he knew she must look beautiful in the flickering candlelight.

  He was confused. But then a wave of peace washed over him. He felt happy for Danna. Almost grateful. But to who, he didn’t know.

  He stepped back slowly, returned to his cot, and fell into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  While Away

  THE FOUR AROSE early to a windless and gloomy morning. After a small snack, they packed their things and quietly slipped out of the church.

  Ben felt refreshed but tired at the same time. He wanted to push it to the back of his mind, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the Stranger’s hope that things could change. He wasn’t ready to believe it just yet.

  They hiked north along the eastern side of the lake until the shoreline disappeared into cattails and rotted, mossy mounds. Cameron waded into the sharp reeds and signaled for them to follow.

  Suddenly, the air was pierced with several distant gunshots and the faint roar of a truck. The three crouched down and ran as low as possible into the bog, where Cameron was anxiously waiting for them.

  They hunkered down in the sa
w grass and waited. Ben couldn’t hear anything except for a turtle plopping into the water and the dry reeds rubbing and scratching against each other.

  After ten minutes, it began to rain. The raindrops were thick and heavy, and they started to hit the pockets of water with resounding plops all around them.

  “What are we gonna do?” Ben asked, wiping the water from his face with his fingers. “Those gunshots sounded pretty far away.”

  “I think we should work our way through this bog for as long as we can until we get to the other side,” Cameron said.

  Danna bent down and tightened her boot laces. “It reeks,” she remarked, scrunching her nose.

  “Yes, this is what marshes smell like,” Cameron replied. His features softened, and he politely said: “Do you want my bandana to wrap around your nose?”

  Danna, taken aback, smiled sheepishly and shook her head.

  Ben snickered. “I bet that thing stinks worse than this swamp.”

  “How about I shove it down your throat and you can find out?”

  “Okay, lead the way, Cameron,” the Stranger said quickly.

  Ben wondered how this guy could put up with it.

  The rain continued as they waded single file further into the bog. Soon they were swallowed by giant cattails, and Ben felt small, like an ant crawling across a waterlogged football field.

  When the patches would get too flooded, they’d have to jump from mound to mound until they found sturdier ground again, and more than once Ben took a wrong step and his pants soaked to his knees.

  It was eerily silent. Ben expected to hear the usual sounds of croaking frogs or buzzing insects, but all he heard was the plop-plop-thump-plop of the rain and the sucking sound of his boots as they squished through the mud.

  They all heard it at once.

  Music. Faint. But nearby. In the marsh.

  They dropped to the ground in unison. Ben raised his rifle and squeezed his temples so he could hear better. He could barely make out a song: