Prologue
Something sinister was lurking in the church, unbeknownst to the inhabitants that were fearfully holding each other within its walls. Anxious murmurs dissolved into silence as the church bell shuddered in the wind, sending a quiet, solemn ring out into the desert. Near the front, an overweight man in a suit sat in one of the pews, jostling his leg up and down and clasping his meaty hands together so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
He wasn’t the only one who was periodically glancing at the heavy wooden doors near the back of the church as if they might burst open at any moment, despite the benches barricaded in front of it. The man beside him in preacher’s robes paced back and forth in the limited room of the pews, his arms folded tightly against himself. The older man chuckled a little to himself as he watched the preacher go back and forth.
“John, why don’t you sit down. You could start a fire on the carpet with all that pacing. It’s not like you can do anything else at the moment.”
The preacher paused, and then reluctantly sat down, gripping the underside of the pew. He shuddered as the bell ominously rang in the wind again. The two of them sat in silence, stewing in the tension of the large room, when finally, the older man cleared his throat.
“You know, John, I’m not normally a church going man, but… would you happen to have a scripture for me tonight? It might help get our minds off of things.”
The preacher blinked, taking a moment to process what was being asked of him, and then nervously nodded, bringing out his bible and shakily trying to find a scripture as he flipped through the pages.
“I-I’m sorry Mr. Mayor. I just-.” he stammered. The older man sighed.
“John, I’ve told you before. Just call me Bill.”
John stopped on a page and looked up at him awkwardly.
“Oh. I-I just… I feel more comfortable calling you… um… Mr. Mayor. Sorry. I’ll try to remember…”
Mayor Bill Cottam sighed and leaned on the pew in front of him as the preacher flipped through his Bible.
“Alright, here’s one:” he said at last, holding the Bible up. “Matthew 14:26-27. ’And when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a spirit; and they cried out for fear. ‘But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.’”
“So we have nothing to fear eh?” Bill scoffed, much to the disdain of the man beside him. “Somehow I doubt these ghostly presences have anything to do with God. Unless perhaps, they’ve been sent to cleanse man for their sins.”
“There has to be a reason for all this bloodshed.” The pastor mentioned, closing the Bible. “Perhaps-”
“A reason?” Bill interrupted with a little laugh. “What if it has nothing to do with God? Perhaps bad things are destined to happen to bad people.”
The Reverend gave Bill a piteous look.
“You’re not a bad person Mr. May-I mean-Bill.” he said softly. The mayor rolled his eyes and rested his head on the pew in front of him, looking down at his feet.
“You’re not the judge of that.” he muttered. “Isn’t that something for God to decide?”
“I can tell.” the Reverend said sternly. “You may not follow all of… God’s teachings, but I can tell you try to do the right thing.”
Bill sighed and looked up at the large wooden angel on the wall over the pulpit.
“Why do you think they are taking people John?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The Reverend clutched his Bible, brooding.
“I have no idea. I simply try not to dwell on them too much.”
At that moment, three children hesitantly came up to them. The oldest, a boy of about thirteen, had his hands on the shoulders of his younger siblings, one a boy and one a girl.
“Mr. Mayor-.” the oldest of them stammered. “I-I was just wondering how long we’ll have to hide in here. Do you know?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know.” he replied with another heavy sigh. “I’ll let everyone know as soon as I find out something.” The boy nodded, and then led his siblings back over to the pew they were sitting at, where their mother was trying to calm their baby sister.
“Ugh. This is so frustrating… At times like these I need a cigar.” the mayor mentioned.
“Not in my church you don’t.”
At this, Bill laughed a little. “You’re always so particular about your facilities Pastor John.”
“Well, we do have some elderly who have problems with the smell of smoke,” he mentioned. I need to look out for those who come.”
After a pause, the mayor turned to get a better look at the Pastor, who looked tired and worn down.
“How is attendance by the way? After… everything that came out?”
“Not great…” the pastor admitted, looking down at his Bible in shame.
“I… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Alright.”
The two of them grew silent, the desert sands beating against the sides of the old church. The howling wind could have been a distant scream, sending a shudder through the two men. The silence was broken when they heard an aggravated sigh from behind them and the shuffling of someone getting out of one of the pews. The two of them turned around to see the Sheriff, with his gaunt form and unkempt light brown hair making his way to the barricaded door.
“What is that bastard doing?” Bill growled, standing up as well and earning a wince from the pastor for his language. “Barry! Where are you going?”
The Sheriff stopped in his tracks and turned around with an exasperated sigh.
“I’m not staying here all night. I’ll take my chances. I’ve got a gun. I’ll use it if I need to.”
“But what about the rest of us?” the mayor asked angrily, stomping towards him. The Sheriff glanced at the residents of the building, who were now watching this argument with anticipation.
“I’m tired. Call in Ledford. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to help.” he muttered, turning to leave. The mayor grabbed him by the arm.
“If you unblock that door, something could get in. It’s still foggy outside. At least wait until it clears up.” The Sheriff pulled his arm away from him with a huff.
“You can’t stop me. I’m leaving.” he mumbled. Before he could move any part of the barricade, however, the mayor raised his voice.
“How do we know you’re not behind all of this?”
The Sheriff froze and then turned furiously to the Mayor.
“What?” he seethed, his hands balling into fists.
“I’m not the only one who has been thinking about it.” Bill told him resolutely. “I don’t know how you’re doing all of this but-.”
The Sheriff charged at him and grabbed him by his shirt.
“How dare you accuse me of such a thing. You really think I would do any of this? With the people I’ve lost??” The mayor looked up at the Sheriff, his eyes cold.
“People have done worse things.” he told him quietly. “And like you’ve said, you’ve lost a lot. Perhaps enough to make someone snap.”
The Sheriff’s face reddened, some of his veins popping out from under his skin.
“Enough of this.” another voice chimed in, pushing the two of them apart. “We’re all on edge. We can’t turn on each other when there is still a threat out there.”
The woman who had pulled them apart stood in between them, a hand on the Sheriff’s chest as he still tried to come forward.
“But Justina-.”
“Barry.” the woman started sternly, her beaded braids clicking together as she turned to him. “You’re the one with a weapon, so I’m sorry, but you have to be the bigger man here.”
The Sheriff glared at the Mayor for a moment longer and then broke away, folding his arms to prevent them from doing something he might regret.
“Mayor Cottam, why don’t you go sit back down?” Justina asked calmly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Bill shrugged her hand off and mumbled something unintelligible as he backed away. The confrontation was put on hold as there was suddenly a shrill shriek from one of the residents of the church. Everyone turned around, alert, to find that the mother with the baby was pointing to the church windows. The fog from outside was spilling in through the cracks in the windows now, as if some deadly gas was going to poison everyone inside.
“To hell with this!” the Sheriff exclaimed, rushing to the door and pulling aside the shelves and pew that they had used as a barricade. “We’re not safe here either. We need to leave the building before we get trapped.”
Others seemed to agree with him as several other people jumped up and rushed to the door. The Sheriff was the first to try the door, which was not opening. When it was clear that it wasn’t going to open by normal means, he brought out his gun and pointed it at the doorknob.
The bang echoed against the high walls of the church, as well as some of the screams from those cowering in the pews they were still sitting in. The Sheriff swore under his breath and then turned his attention to the rest of the church, his gun poised in the air as he searched for something.
“It’s too late. We’re already trapped…” the pastor grimaced, standing up and holding the Bible closely to his chest. The mist was filling the floor to the point where the thick cloud was to everyone’s shins.
“Everyone huddle together in the middle, with adults on the outside to protect the children!” Bill yelled out. “There is strength in numbers!”
As everyone in the church quickly gathered together in the middle, the mist settled up around their waists. Those on the outside of the circle braced themselves for what was coming, some with fists and some with chairs or hymn books. The Sheriff pointed his gun around the room, looking for any movement.
A smack sounded on one of the windows, causing everyone to jump. On the other side of the glass, a little hand pressed against the pane. The Sheriff pointed his gun at the window, his hands shaking.
“What are you doing?? Shoot!” Justina yelled at him as the face of a little girl with blank hollowed out eyes appeared through the fog on the other side of the glass. The Sheriff was frozen now, staring at the little girl in fear as a black goopy substance started bubbling out from the edges of the windows. Justina grabbed the gun from him and shot at the window, which normally would have shattered it, but the glass only swallowed the bullet. The little transparent girl fazed through the glass, now floating above the mist in the church. Her dark pigtails hung limply at their places as her head cracked to an unnatural angle, her mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to say something.
The Reverend could feel something sticky and thick underneath his feet now, and he closed his eyes and held the Bible over his head. Bill felt it as well and bent down to check the floor through the mist. His hand came up with some of the same thick black liquid that was now bubbling from all of the windows.
“That black goo is already here.” he said grimly, feeling it between his fingers. The little girl by the window had the same black goop running from her orifices, the liquid dripping down her cheeks as if they were tears. The residents then watched in horror as three other transparent faces rose from the mist, their eyes all black holes dripping with goop. The girls rushed towards the group, causing several screams to echo in the church again. The pastor ducked below the mist, which was now up to his chest, saying a quiet prayer to himself, asking to be forgiven of his sins. A coldness gripped him, and when he opened his eyes, he saw one of the little girls in front of him, staring at him curiously. She smiled, black goop oozing through her teeth.
“Who is going to die tonight?” she asked, the black tears running down her face. The pastor called out in surprise and fell backwards, landing in whatever the sticky black substance was covering the floor. He held the bible in front of him, which did nothing as the girl fazed through it to get into his face again. She paused, her blonde curls bouncing a little as she cocked her head.
“Not yet…” she whispered. “Lucky you… You still hold a different purpose…”
With that statement, she disappeared into the mist, leaving the pastor to sit there gasping and sweating. A moment later, he jumped again when he heard a shrill scream from a child. The scream was cut short, and Pastor John covered his ears, wondering how his church had become a hell on Earth.
