Verbal commands were unnecessary for Erin as she watched the entire event unfold. But Paul's shout of “GO!” spurred her on even faster.
"MJ, gotta go!" Paul shouted as he passed the halfway mark in God's house.
"Just a couple of more adjustments," MJ answered merrily, unaware of the danger sweeping down the aisle.
"MJ NOW!" Erin screamed as she passed his position and ran out into the daylight.
Alex had seen that look of terror on enough folks’ faces lately to realize it was time to hit the road.
Mrs. Deneaux climbed up into the bed of the truck by herself, not willing to wait for somebody to offer a hand, her cigarette still lit and shaking wildly in her hand.
MJ stood up to look at Paul as he approached. A throng of flesh worshippers followed closely, led by the leader of the congregation. Paul stumbled a bit as he did the familiar horror movie faux pas of looking behind him. His foot caught on the edge of a pew and nearly dropped him on his face. MJ moved forward to help.
Paul stuck his hand out. "Forget it man, I'm good, let's go!" Zombies filled the center aisle and both sides of the pews. Some were the traditional shufflers, most however were not, and the distance between Paul, the door, and death was closing rapidly.
"I can't leave the box!" MJ yelled.
"It's not worth getting eaten." Paul said as he got to the main door.
MJ paid no heed and turned around to get the device; thick cords on his neck bulged as he strained to pick the device up. Paul took a millisecond to scan the events. He would JUST make it if he opened the church door and pushed it shut. "Dammit!" he said as he ran to MJ's position. "This stupid heavy thing better be worth it!" he shouted as they lifted it into the air. MJ's side dipped as he struggled with his grip. "How did you carry this thing alone?" Paul struggled to get out through clenched teeth. He shifted the load so that he could get his hand on the door handle and open it. His mind had been doing rapid calculations and he figured by now the priest at least should be on them. He was too scared to even look back. Just then sunlight streamed into the church. Alex was at the front door, rifle in hand. "Come on you crazy gringos! What is it with white boys always trying to play the hero?" he shouted. Alex had the rifle raised, poised to shoot at anything moving that wasn't alive.
"Get over here!" Marta yelled from the truck cab.
Paul could not understand why Alex' rifle was not firing as they quickly moved off to the side to give him a better vantage point.
"O mi Dios," Alex softly breathed out.
Paul almost dropped the box, expecting some new horror to come bounding out of the doors a la Resident Evil. He hoped there were no zombie Doberman Pinschers. "What is it Alex?" Paul said as he struggled with himself whether to drop the stupid box and run or stand his ground with Alex.
"They're just standing there," Alex said, not daring to put his rifle down.
Paul craned his neck. Alex was right, about fifteen feet from the door the zombies were crowded around as if they had hit a force field. MJ lowered his corner a bit so that he could peer past Paul.
"I'll be damned! It works!"
"What works?" Paul asked. "This thing?"
"Yeah, it's a frequency modulator. It…" MJ started.
"Fascinating, really," Paul said, "but I'd rather you told me all about it later when we're safe."
"We're quite safe now," MJ said in rebuttal.
"You know what I mean," Paul answered.
"Guys, let's get out of here. This is not how I wanted to spend my afternoon, in a Mexican standoff with zombies," Alex said.
"That's funnier because it's true," Paul said.
"Hilarious. Let's go," Alex motioned with his rifle.
As MJ and Paul descended the stairs, the zombies moved that much closer.
"Paul, we need to put this thing down. My shoulder is killing me and I have a bad grip."
"You're lucky you don’t have a hernia," Paul answered as he put his corner down on the stairs.
With the box on the ground MJ wiped his brow. Paul kept an eye on the zombies.
"Really guys? This is where you want to have a siesta?" Alex asked nervously.
"Relax Alex, it's fine," MJ said, resting against the side of the box. The zombies at the top of the stairs were not moving. The sunlight was not kind in its exposure of the monsters. Shredded gray skin gave way to gray-green ropy muscle, which in turn showed in some extreme cases yellowing bone. Then the unthinkable happened. The priest moved but the box hadn't, from fifteen feet away to twelve. His followers did what followers do, they followed.
"What's happening?" Paul asked as their circle of safety diminished.
"Huh, must be the batteries," MJ answered absently.
"Couldn't think to put in fresh batteries?" Paul asked.
"Can't expect me to think of everything," MJ answered him, a little miffed.
Zombies began to spill off of the stairway as the overcrowding became too great. The ones that had not damaged any parts vital to locomotion began to encircle the trio.
Within seconds before the trio could react, a twelve foot wide bubble of zombies encircled them. Then it was ten feet.
"This isn't fun anymore. I'm thinking we should leave," Paul said as he grabbed the edge of the box.
"In agreement," Alex said. Sweat alternated between running in rivulets down his back and freezing in place.
The circle had become eight feet in diameter by the time MJ got his side up.
"This is going to be a little closer than I thought," MJ said as a red LED light began to flicker on the top of the box.
"Let me guess," Paul said. "Low battery indicator."
MJ could only offer a weak smile in reply. Alex' rifle now went off as the circle became six feet around. The damage the bullet did to the human form from this distance was devastating. Pink gray, brackish brain matter exploded onto their brethren as Alex started to weed out the non-believers in the Power of the Bullet.
And still they pressed on. Paul and MJ kept shuffling backwards. They were careful to make sure that the zombies behind them were given enough time to react to the repelling effects of MJ's box. By the time the three were in front of the truck, a yard stick could have been held to the priest's forehead to measure the space. Black gore stained teeth gnashed wildly as saliva flowed from both sides of his mouth like a rabid dog. Alex had his back pressed up against the side of the box now as the three moved to the cab.
"Careful dude," Paul said as Alex almost jostled the heavy burden from their hands.
Alex didn’t comment as he shoved bullets into the magazine well.
"Screw it dude," Paul said as they got to Alex' door. "Won’t help much now anyway."
Alex nodded.
"Get up there man!" Paul labored.
Alex was hesitant to go first, but he wasn't holding the zombie repeller and this way he could, in theory, cover MJ's and Paul's retreat. Alex scurried up into the cab.
"Okay MJ, put your edge of the box on the step and get in the cab. Can you make another one of these?" Paul asked before MJ could get into the cab.
"Yeah, I've got everything already in my van."
"You mean the one over there?" Paul said, motioning with his head to the van now swathed in zombie kind.
"Yeah, that one," MJ said, bowing his head, "All that beer…" he said resignedly. "You're going to want to hurry," MJ told Paul as he jumped in, passing Alex on the way into the sleeper cab. Brown fingernails were separated from Paul's face by millimeters Paul eased his edge of the box onto the wide step. The box teetered precariously as Paul used the remaining strength in his arms to haul himself in and dive past Alex. Alex fired off two quick rounds at the closest zombies and immediately shut the door. The box fell to the ground as the big rig lurched forward.