Chapter 25 Lazarus
twenty-five
Lazarus
I tear my axe from the neck of a zombie, red rain falling onto my face and dripping down my cheeks.
Arn stands beside me, a broad machete he picked up in Ekksha clutched in his hand.
At our feet lay three zombies that were easily dispatched between the two of us.
We are bloodied and panting at the effort of it, but there is one more in this group and he has yet to kill what ran out of the trees at him.
Daylan grunts angrily as he thrusts the knife I gave him into the zombie’s rotten skull, scowling as it falls to the ground at his feet. He reaches down and yanks the knife free, wiping it on the rain soaked grass to remove bits of brain and bone.
“Well done,” Arn comments, with a surprised laugh.
“I taught him well.”
“I taught myself,” Daylan snips, crossing his arms. I have to nod because he isn’t exactly wrong about that.
It has been three days between the last time we were all together at the cabin and now, and he has spent his time learning how to handle his weapon.
He is skilled at it, though it will take some time for him to become truly comfortable with its use.
We stand at the wooden fence that surrounds Bright Haven, listening to the zombies captured between it and the inner fence growl into the rain.
My urge to maim and destroy is awake inside me even though I have just killed and when I look at Arn, he grimaces, nodding an agreement to my unanswered question.
“How do we do this?” Daylan asks. “Is there a hole or something to crawl through?”
Arn scans the boards in front of us, then heads for one that is clearly marked with the symbol of Aries scratched into it.
He ensured that that board was always kept loose for me to slip in and out of the compound with ease, loosening it whenever the workmen would repair it.
He also kept a section of the inner fence loosely tied down, the chain-link easily moved to the side to allow entry.
It is there that we head, the three of us.
“Be careful,” I whisper, grabbing Daylan’s arm as he passes by me.
He leans in and presses a kiss to my lips and it takes everything I have within me to not strip him down and throw him onto the grass so I can have him as I want him.
I am here for fighting, not fucking and I need to remember that even if it makes me prickle inside.
We make it through the first fence quickly and without issue, Arn leading the way for us.
I enter last, keeping my Lamb in front of me so I can be assured of his safety.
The zombies on the other side of the fence twitch and shriek as they see us, but we dash past them for the loose chain-link, making it there without having to dispatch any of them.
I had protested when we were planning, saying we could stop and take some of them out to ease our passage back through the fence should anything go wrong, but Daylan had issued a counterprotest and Arn had agreed with him.
I would still like to go back and smash my axe through some of their heads, but the need to be quick and quiet to escape detection makes sense, I suppose.
The longhouse lies ahead, and I stare at the lights within as Arn ties down the loosened chain-link.
Daylan comes to stand beside me, reaching for my free hand.
He takes it in his own, lacing our fingers together and giving me a squeeze that calms down some of the urge to smash skulls that runs through me.
“Are we good?” Arn asks, coming up to stand on Daylan’s other side. He bounces on his heels, and I know the feeling that calls to him, for I cannot stop squeezing Daylan’s hand in my own.
“Go wake the crowd,” I murmur, with a nod. He smiles, reaching out to give me a quick hug before bounding off across the field towards the houses where the families of Bright Haven sleep. His job is to rouse them all and draw them out to their porches so they can witness Father’s truth.
“He is like a big puppy,” Daylan comments, watching Arn go with a smile on his face.
“He can be.”
“Are you ready for this?”
I take a deep breath, considering all I have been through and all I have done.
Now that my moment to come face to face with Father is at hand, I find nerves rumbling around inside me, mixing with the need to murder and devour that the rain draws out of me.
I look to Daylan, remembering the scars on his back and the scars I have carried inside me for far too long.
Weights we never should have been made to bear. “Let’s go.”
Daylan grabs me before I can step away though, pressing his lips against mine as raindrops fall off his dark hair. I deepen it, reaching my hand up to cup his cheek. We cannot be long, but I can savor him just for a moment.
“Okay,” he breathes, breaking the kiss. “Now I am ready.”
He smiles, then turns towards the longhouse and stalks away into the night, loosening his hand from mine.
I follow behind, scanning the field for signs of danger and happily finding none.
Everyone appears to be locked inside their homes, and lights are popping on as Arn goes door to door, drawing people out to their windows and porches.
Daylan steps onto the porch of the longhouse and pauses, tilting his head as if he is listening for signs of movement. He turns to me, shaking his head before taking another step up to the front door. I tread carefully behind him as the thunder booms overhead, lightning tripping through the sky.
“I think I love you,” Daylan says, turning to face me before opening the door. “Just wanted to say that before we go inside and things go bad. I think I love you, Lazarus.”
The light and warmth of the longhouse falls over my body as he turns away and pushes the door open, but it is nothing compared to what his words spark inside of me.
Daylan turns to look at me once more, and I confess what is in my own heart.
“I think I love you too. Stay alive and we’ll find out when it’s all over. ”
“Deal.”
Daylan grins, then turns around and steps into the longhouse. I enter behind him, scanning the tables and chairs for signs of people, but as I expected, there are none. He smiles at me, and I slink into a shadow to wait, as is the plan.
“Father?” Daylan calls out, gripping his knife. “Father, I have returned.”
Silence lingers for a moment, followed by the slamming of doors and the scramble of boots against the wooden floors. Father appears at the end of the hallway, his face pale and eyes wide with surprise. He looks to Daylan, stepping forward and reaching for him.
“My Lamb,” he breathes. “You live.”
“I do,” Daylan says, nodding. “I have met Lazarus, Father, and he did not kill me.”
“How can this be?” Father grabs Daylan’s arms, and I bite back a growl, not wanting to give up that I am here just yet. “Has he harmed you? Is your blood still pure?”
“Yes, I am immune. I have been bitten by a damned one, and still my blood is pure.”
Father’s face pinches, his mouth turning to a straight line. “You were bitten?”
“Yes.”
Disgust shows on Father’s face, and he drops Daylan’s arms, stepping back. “Then you are tainted. The devil has tainted you. This will not do.”
“I am the Lamb,” Daylan says, glancing at me with confusion. Father seems not to notice as he has instead looked towards the roof of the longhouse as if he is searching for God himself among the rafters.
“You are not the Lamb. You are useless to me now.”
“Useless how?” Daylan asks, as confused as I am.
“For God giveth the Lamb salvation, that all should be set free through the sacrifice of his blood,” Father murmurs, quoting from the Book of the Faith. “Your blood can offer us salvation, but you have allowed yourself to be tainted. We must keep searching for the Lamb.”
“I am the Lamb.”
“You are not. I learned from Ezekiel, and still that isn’t enough. The devil taints my Lambs, and I must start over.” Father reaches for Daylan and I step out of the shadows, wielding my axe.
“Nah, you don’t. This Lamb is fine.” Father’s eyes fall on me, and he reels back in horror. I step forward and stand alongside Daylan, reaching for his hand. He takes mine in his, lacing our fingers together. “Hello Michael.”
“You bring the devil to my door!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the hall as he glares at Daylan.
“I bring the devil you made,” Daylan growls back. “The devil you created with your own lies. I bring him to hear you confess your sins, Father, for you have done horrible things to him.”
“I did no such thing,” Father protests. “He has tempted Ezekiel with his ways, and now he turns his temptation to you. I thought you were better than this, Daylan. I raised you better. Every time you strayed down the same paths Ezekiel walked, I corrected you so you wouldn’t fall into the same sins. ”
“You beat him with a whip,” I say.
“So he would be good,” Father exclaims. “So he wouldn’t look at children with wanting. He was to live a good, holy life and be the Lamb worthy of sacrifice for our community.”
“Sacrifice how?”
“All things must be sent back to the Lord. Ezekiel was intended to be sent back bathed in blessings to save Bright Haven from the wickedness that spreads through this world, but you took him too soon and now you have come for this one. You are the Devil, Lazarus.”
“You meant to kill me?” Daylan shrieks, taking a step away from Father. “That was the meaning behind it all?”
“You were created by God to die for the sins of man,” Father shouts back. “That is your purpose!”
“You are really fucked up,” I comment, for I have no other words available. I turn to Daylan instead. His face is pale and his eyes wide with horror as he stares at Father. His grip on my hand has gone slack, and my blood begs me to swing my axe into Father’s face. That would be just and right.
“You were going to kill me,” he whispers. “After all I have endured at your hand. After all the lies you have filled me with. You were going to end my life.” “Your blood was to purify all of us,” Father says. “Your ending was intended to be our beginning in the salvation of the Lord.”
“And now you see the madness that has claimed the man who calls himself Father,” Arn says, walking into the longhouse.
“Arn?” Father sputters.
“Hey Pops. I found your Lamb, like you told me to. He comes with Lazarus though, if you know what I mean.” Arn winks and Father blanches, taking a step back.
“Get out of my sight, you foul creatures of hell. Bright Haven has no need of you,” he spits out, turning as if he means to leave. Arn darts forward and grabs him before he can get away, wrapping his arms around his chest tight.
“Father, you have sinned,” I say, stepping forward and looking into his face. “Thou shalt not kill thy fellow man. Book of the Faith. Chapter 2, verse 5.”
His eyes open wide, and Daylan nods, tightening his grip on my hand. “You shall not kill others. Book of the Father. Chapter 7, verse 2. Different words. Same meaning. It is sin, and you must be cleansed.”
“Repent, sinner,” Daylan says, loud and clear to the man outside the fence.
“Repent and pray for mercy from the Lord who loves you. Drink the blood of Christ into your soul and allow Him to cleanse the wickedness out of your human body. We are called to serve, and in serving, we must ask forgiveness for our trespasses. Repent and be renewed in His glory.”
Father sputters as raindrops fall onto his face. He reaches out with clawed hands and grips the chain-link tight. “Daylan. I confess. I have sinned. I will repent. I am your Father. Please, have mercy upon me.”
“Where was your mercy for Lazarus?” he asks. “You are meant to protect children, Father, not ignore them when they need you most. You should have stopped Ezekiel. He should have been cast out of the community. Not given safe passage to wield his title as a weapon.”
“Repent, sinner,” I murmur.
“Lazarus,” Father says, turning to me now as if I would dare consider bringing him back into this community. “Did I not do a good job with Daylan? He is not like Ezekiel. He is pure. He is holy. He can be the Lamb you deserve.”
“He is the Lamb we all deserve in spite of you.”
“Arn, please just-”
Arn holds up his hand and laughs. “No way. I have watched you act like a real asshole these past few months and bit my tongue because I knew what was coming for you. You’re just lucky this Lamb is keeping him from ripping your head off as he did to Timothy. Tonight, you take your chances with God.”
Father steps back, scanning the area around him as if there is a way for him to escape. I suppose there is, but he will never find it. The loose chain-link and the board that can be swung to the side are both hidden from his view.
“This is devilry,” he screeches.
“This is justice,” Daylan corrects with a shrug. “You send so many out here for cleansing, yet you cannot stand it for yourself? That is heresy. What is good for one man is good for another. God deemed it so.”
“I don’t believe in God, and even I know that, Michael.” I turn and gesture at the houses behind us and the people watching. “Everyone sees you, sinner.”
“But, I am given mercy,” he says, tilting his head up to the sky. “God sees me and gives me this. I must be allowed back in when the storm goes, I am proven worthy.”
“You will be given the same mercy you made Timothy give to Angelo,” Daylan murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.
“No,” Father whispers, taking a step back from the fence. “You cannot.”
“I can,” Daylan says, grinning wickedly. “For I am the Blessed Lamb, and it is my duty to cleanse those who sin against the Lord.”