fEaR 3, page 16
And with that, I walked away. This was always the hardest part of leaving the safety of the Pearly Gates—you never knew if you'd return.
Even so, we couldn't do what we do without supplies.
Jax, Trinity, and Arjun were waiting at the exit. When they spotted me coming, crowbars were raised and hearty "Huzzahs!" were proudly shouted.
And me without my mead and knickers.
"What do you want to do with your life?"
Jax flipped his crowbar around as though it were a guitar. "I wanna rock."
"Your grasp of eighties pop culture shocks me, my friend. Given your relative age, I'd have thought maybe 90s or early 2000s would be your jam."
"Nothing compared to the generation that gave us Prince and a whole horde of other gender-bending heroes."
Jax's statement confused me for a minute, until I remembered the catchphrase he used was straight out of the Twisted Sister playbook. Glam rock was certainly Prince-adjacent.
"Let's roll."
I slid the portal open and took in the surrounding area. All was clear for launch. I gripped the crowbar and our snacks in the same hand, pushed the door open, and sped off toward the truck. Once I had the monster unleashed from its electric tether, I hopped in. A quick check in the rearview to see that Trinity and Arjun were safely in the bed and I had her fired up and rolling out of the parking lot.
Jax drummed the dashboard. "This is exciting. Like a road trip. I feel a bit childish. Wanna toss a dodgeball, rouse a bit of rabble?” Another open-handed drum roll. "What will we find when we open that door?"
"Don't get your hopes up, my brother. Remember, we were given this key by a cannibal. There's no telling what we might find."
I hated to burst Jax's bubble, but a dose of reality was always needed in these types of situations. The apocalypse was too damn good at dashing hopes and dreams. Of course, I didn't want to admit to the man I was just as excited. We could be walking into a veritable cornucopia. My imagination went wild with possibilities—mostly of the medical sort. Of course, non-perishable food and other necessities would certainly go a long way to keeping our ever-growing team happy.
"I'm hoping for some new threads, maybe a cappuccino machine—"
"Some soap and deodorant," I teased.
"Wait. What? Are you saying I stink?" Jax sniffed his right armpit. "I made sure to clean up for this trip. Where's the funk?"
"Maybe it's the Bad Brains tee shirt you've been sporting for the past three weeks."
Jax wagged a finger in the air. "No dissin' the Brains. Greatest punk band to ever come out of the US."
"You'll get no argument out of me. But I'm fairly certain that shirt could mosh of its own accord."
"Well then I hope like hell we find a washer and dryer at this warehouse we're about to unlock."
Jax was right. That the Pearly Gates was lacking the means to launder clothes was on me. It wasn't that we didn't have the machines. We did. The problem was water. Although since the industrialized world has taken a few steps backward on coughing out pollution at a deadly rate, the damage was done. The temperature was significantly hotter and the seasons exponentially dryer. I couldn't remember the last time it rained. Unfortunately, that put a serious damper on our water supply. Ergo, we had to do the best we could to keep our clothing from smelling like the crotch of a wrestler's singlet.
Yeah, it could get that malodorous.
"Take a right," Jax interrupted my stench-driven train of thought. "At the end of this street, take a right at the T. The Church of the Neon Cross should be on the left. Trust me, you can't miss it."
I stole a glimpse from the rearview mirror and caught Trinity in the reflection, looking rather pensive. My mind drifted back to her exiting Janet's room. Somehow I had to assure the woman there was nothing to worry about. If she wanted it to remain a secret, my lips were sealed. If she wanted to celebrate their conjunction, I was more than willing to hang up streamers and bake a cake.
Or at least get Ellie to make cake-flavored PUKs.
"There it is!" Jax shouted, pointing past me and through my window.
I stopped the truck and looked over my shoulder to see a majestic church frontispiece, the likes of New York’s very own St. Patrick's Cathedral. The biggest difference? Over the entrance was a cross that stood probably ten or fifteen feet high, outlined in obvious neon tubes—hence the name. Although the light was out, the effect was obvious.
I put the truck in park, slipped my crowbar from under the seat, took in the area, and opened the door. On the street, everything was surprisingly silent, peaceful. I needed this, so I took it all in. There were no sounds of cannibals—no snark, no blaring 80’s music, no irreverent broadway numbers. Nothing. The closest thing to a sound was the wind, which was more than welcome.
A few years ago, this part of the city would have been a madhouse of tourists, traffic, and shouting, angry pedestrians. It's a tragedy it took an absolute environmental meltdown to put humanity in its place.
"You ready to do this?" Jax broke the quiet spell.
"I am."
Trinity and Arjun joined us in a line—a wall of might to take on anything that dared step in our way. Together we marched up the stone steps and stopped at the heavy wooden door. I pulled the key from my pocket, inserted it into the lock, and turned. From within, the tumblers did their thing to release the door from its previously steadfast position.
I glanced at Jax, who gave me an assuring nod.
The door pulled open on creaky hinges—not the ambiance I wanted at the moment.
Relief flooded my system when a horde of cannibals didn't spill from within to devour us like bipedal land sharks.
After a steadying breath of air, I stepped into the building.
"What the fuck?" Jax whispered. "Where are the stacks of boxes? The crates and pallets? There's nothing here."
Trinity positioned herself in front of us and looked around the entryway. "I don't understand."
I raised my hands. "I doubt they'd have stored supplies here. I'm sure whatever it is that awaits us is in the chancel."
"Well, well, well." Jax shouldered his crowbar. "Look who's mister Christian."
"What can I say? I know my architecture." I gestured for all to follow. "This way."
Through the interior doors we were greeted by darkness.
"Fuck. I left my flashlight in the truck."
Without warning, the room came alive with lights.
"Surprise!"
In the center, seated on a chair, Emanuel sported a grin that belonged on a precocious child.
"What in the hell is going on?!" I shouted, unable to control myself.
The room looked nothing like I'd expected. Instead of a reverent hall, filled with piety and sanctity, we were staring at what looked like a rather well-appointed waiting room.
"Isn't it incredible?" Emanuel stood. "Honestly, I can't believe we pulled it off."
"Pulled what off? Tricking us into believing you'd offered us a church full of supplies? That's damned low of you."
Emanuel hopped up and down, giggling with joy. "You don't get it. I only told you it was supplies to get you here to see the surprise. And no!" Emo barked. "That was not a racist joke. This," the cannibal spread his arms wide, "is my gift to you."
"What? A goddamn church?" Trinity snapped.
"Yeah," Jax shook his head, drawing out his response. "You might want to pull back on the language. We are in a church, after all."
"No, you're not. You're in a hospital." Emanuel nearly leaped out of his skin in excitement. "You see, once you agreed to practically hand Cannibal Christ over to me, I arranged my people to retrofit this church into a full-blown hospital. You have everything—and I do mean everything—you need. No more doing the by the skin of our teeth routine. This baby is not only equipped with top shelf everything, it's plugged into the biggest solar farm in the tristate area, and its water main is connected to an underground well that should last you for years." Another giggle from the cannibal. "I know, crazy talk. Even I wasn’t sure we'd pull it off." Emanuel gestured for us to follow. "Come, come, come, come." Emanuel's jaw clacked rapidly, before he stopped it from dancing off his skull.
We four shared glances. I shrugged and whispered, "When in Rome?"
I took point and followed our patron.
Past the waiting room and through a set of double doors, we found ourselves in what had to be triage. Along two sides of the massive room, hospital beds sat, complete with monitors, curtains, and every tool necessary to do the job we'd been scrambling to perform with a modicum of success.
This was the real deal.
Emo continued the tour. Through yet another set of double doors we found ourselves in a hall, both sides sported glass panes which revealed the most immaculate operating rooms I'd ever beheld.
I peered through one of the windows. "Holy Mother of God."
"What is it?" Jax sidled up next to me.
"That's a proper OR." I turned to Emanuel. "How'd you do this? I mean you're—"
"Cannibals?" Emo folded his arms, but smiled, in spite of what he probably took as an insult. "Sure we are. But we're also architects, engineers, construction workers, and—yes—even doctors. So after you showed me a hand of good faith, I figured it was time to return the favor. And considering the enormity of the favor you are doing for me, I wanted to respond in kind. Besides, we get hurt as well, and get sick. Having a real hospital, with a staff I trust, will certainly make me feel better about doing things like taking down an army of chaos-loving barbarians."
"Hold up," Jax stepped into the conversation. "You built this badass facility so we could serve you and your kind."
Emo slapped his hands over his heart. "You wound me so." The playfulness drained from the man's face. "No. I did this so you could heal the sick and the hurt. That we might be among those numbers is just icing on the cake." Emanuel approached me. "I want this to serve as something much bigger." He stuck out his hand. "A truce among us. Our first bargain had me and my people," Emo tossed a sinister-esque glance toward Jax, "pledging to protect you and yours in exchange for a service. You have, however, gone out of your way to offer something even more important to me. Because of that, I want to extend that protection such that we might work side by side. There are bad things out there that are only getting worse. Trust me when I tell you cannibals like me are the least of your worries now."
My skin crawled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Emanuel clacked his teeth, but stopped himself almost immediately. The sound had become a trigger, so much so I instantly cocked my fist, ready to launch it into the cannibal's face. "You judge us as though we're all the same, that any human who dines of the flesh of human unkindness must be a monster. What you neglect to remember is that this," Emo tapped his finger to his skull hard enough that we all heard the 'thump, thump, thump,’ "is a disease. What we suffer from doesn't make us evil. Our actions, on the other hand, do. And although my Army does eat the flesh of the living, we try very hard to avoid the innocent."
"So now you're judge and jury?" Trinity asked.
"Someone has to be."
Arjun lifted his crowbar into an all-too obvious attack position.
"Let me continue, before you raise arms against me. Yes, there are times when I am better suited for a straitjacket than a suit jacket. But I am loyal to a fault. If we continue our partnership, you can be sure—" Emanuel twitched as though he were about to break into a cannibal take on the Rerun Dance, a move that was rather disconcerting, given his age. "You and your people will never be harmed by me and mine. That is scripture, my friend. And you having such a facility will help my soldiers continue to fight against those of my kind who would sow the seeds of chaos, the likes you have never before seen. Trust me when I say you do not want to throw down with Cannibal Christ and his horde. You wouldn't stand a chance."
I took the room in—all of it, every last inch. "So we're to believe that, out of nowhere, you've discovered a streak of altruism? That you're in this for the greater good?"
Emo shrugged. "Not sure I'd go that far. Think of it this way: You scratch my back, I scratch yours; and in the scratching, both our backs will feel significantly better." Emanuel reached out his hand. "What do you say?"
My grandmother always told me if it sounded too good to be true, it most likely was.
"Tell you what. I'm going to take your offer back to the Pearly Gates and we'll all vote on it."
"Come on," Emanuel scoffed, "this deal is perfect for both of us. Besides, I need you in here before Sunday's throwdown. Your little clinic won't be able to handle the casualties of war that might come out of this meeting."
And there it was: Emanuel wanted us ready to patch his soldiers up after battle. Although there was a selfish core to his plan, I couldn't deny my unfettered joy at seeing every inch of this building dedicated to saving lives in proper fashion. My mind raced around the possibilities, the lives we could save.
Not to mention having a more reliable source of water. That was nearly impossible to turn down.
I doubled down on my initial response. "You have to understand, Emanuel, we are a democracy, so I have no choice but to present the facts to my people and let them have their say. If they choose to accept your offer, then that's that. If they opt to remain at the Pearly Gates, so be it."
Emanuel gritted his teeth as though he were trying desperately not to clack them together in frustration.
Or hunger.
Either way, it was a sound I'd rather not hear.
"Fine." Emanuel's jaw fluttered. "But have your answer to me tomorrow. If you agree, we have to get you moved into your new location tout de suite—pardon my French."
"You'll know before then. We'll head back, take a vote, and I'll bring the answer to your camp."
Emanuel approached, his hand stuck out for me to shake. I complied.
"Trust me when I tell you, this decision could make your lives exponentially better...on every conceivable level."
Jax drew in to get a piece of the shake. I got a reminding whiff of his funk and thought about how brilliant it would be to have a functioning washer and dryer.
And showers.
"We'll get back to you," Jax said as he pumped Emo's arm. "Let's roll."
Something was up with Jax. He wasn't usually so ready to take control from me. Not that I cared. Okay, I did...somewhat. I started the hospital and made most of the decisions regarding its functioning. But I never trained to lead, I trained to heal. If Jax wanted to assume the mantle of leader, more power to him.
I gestured for Trinity and Arjun to follow.
Back outside, I unlocked the truck and climbed in. With the doors shut, Jax turned to face me. "You're seriously thinking about taking him up on the offer, aren't you?"
"I am. How could I not?"
"Because he's a fucking cannibal, Vega. You can't trust that son of a bitch."
"Jax, you saw the same things I saw, heard the same things I heard. A more powerful electrical grid, running water, all the accoutrement a hospital would ever need. We could limit our supply runs, save more lives, be safer."
"At what cost?"
I knew where Jax was going with his objection. And, on the surface, I agreed. But as with everything in the apocalypse, you had to weigh the needs of the now with the hope for a better future. Yes, survival was at the absolute dead-center of our Venn diagram. But survival had to include consideration for what's to come. If we are to continue doing what we do, it had to happen in proper facilities. And for that, we needed Emanuel's help.
"Let's get back to the Pearly Gates." I started the truck and drove off.
The soundtrack for our return to the hospital was silence. Under normal circumstances, that silence would have been a much-needed respite from the deluge of sounds bombarding the system throughout the day. In this instance, however, I found myself most uncomfortable. Jax was always jovial, which never failed to bring a smile to my face and heart. Having him go cold on me was an unwelcome change. However, it was probably best not to broach the subject until I had the entire staff as a captive audience.
Back at the hospital, after a quick check of the surrounding area, we disembarked. I plugged in the truck, locked the doors and made my way to the entrance.
Arjun matched my stride and spoke under his breath. "You cannot pass up that offer. From a security standpoint, the church is a much stronger option. Not only is it reinforced by butting up against neighboring buildings, the walls are stone and the windows are mostly too high for anyone to reach. On top of that, it's not in the middle of an open field, waiting for an attack from all sides."
Arjun was right. I had to look at this offer from every possible angle—not just the medical perspective. For every con in this situation, there were two or three pros. Surely everyone else will draw the same conclusion.
Inside the building, I swept the halls and rooms and instructed everyone to gather in the kitchen. Janet wanted the scoop, but I refused to give her an early heads up.
As expected, Ellie was working her magic. The smells permeating the room had my stomach instantly growling. I'd left our provisions in the truck, uneaten. As PUKs didn't come with an expiration date, it was safe to assume they'd still be edible for our next run—for whatever and whenever that might be.
"What's going on?" Janet demanded.
I dove in without prelude.
"Emanuel has retrofitted the Church of the Neon Cross into a full-blown, fully-functional, state-of-the-art hospital as a gift to us for handing over Cannibal Christ."
Ellie cleared her throat.
"He wants us to relocate immediately."
The collective look on everyone's face was that of confusion.
Miranda raised her hand. I was glad to see her return to her old self. A few days of rest and some distance from a recent OD and I was confident she'd be okay. "You mean leave the Pearly Gates and trust a cannibal to not have set a trap inside this new building?"
"Something like that, yes."
Janet's turn. "When you say fully-functioning, what do you mean?"
"Fully stocked ORs, actual patient rooms, nurses stations, every type of machine we need to do our jobs correctly." I took in a deep breath and, upon exhale said, "It would mean we'd no longer have to struggle to save people. We could finally just be surgeons again. Oh, and did I mention running water?"
