Unbound

Chapter 2

Hayden blinked. "Did you say... Jesus?"

The man turned his glare on Hayden. "I did."

"But—" Hayden looked to his dad, who stared at the man as if he'd just grown an extra head.

The pounding in the back intensified.

"What is that," Hayden said, turning toward the doors.

"Must be the cops," his dad said. "Let's get this poor soul some help." He started toward the steps that would lead to the main floor, back in composure and aware of the cameras.

"It is the dead," Jesus said. "Though why she brought them here first..." his gaze narrowed as someone else on the stage moved.

At that moment, the outer doors burst open. A rotting stench swept into the room, thick and heavy. Hayden could taste it in his mouth. The men who had rushed the doors turned and tried to run, but it was too late.

Hayden's eyes widened at the sight, the smell. His stomach protested, and if he'd eaten anything that day, it would have made a grand reentry right then and there. Dark, skeletal creatures flooded into the sanctuary. Even from way up on the stage, with lights shining down on him, Hayden could see their eyes burned a bright yellow, like lanterns on a dark, stormy night.

As one, the group of creatures fell onto the men who had tried to run, tearing into them like piranhas into fresh, bloody meat.

"Zombies," Hayden muttered in disbelief. "It's goddamn zombies..."

"Jesus Christ," Pastor Tim said. It wasn't in supplication though, or prayer. Hayden knew a curse when he heard one.

The man, Jesus, sighed. "I thought we would have more time—I was wrong." Suddenly Jesus's hand shot out to his side, finger pointed. "Simon, stop!"

Hayden glanced toward Simon, his father's deacon. The man was bounding down the stairs, heading toward one of the side exits.

Without a word, Jesus spun and grabbed up Pastor Tim.

His dad squeaked, "What the—"

"Now you can serve me," Jesus said. The muscles on his bare, dirty arms bulged as he twisted and heaved Hayden's father through the air. The pastor slammed into Simon and both men went sprawling. Simon slid into the wall, head bent at an awkward angle.

"He always was a coward," Jesus said, pale eyes burning. He turned back to the churning mass of creatures, grimacing.

Hayden swept a glance from the prostrate body of his father, which was in the process of moaning and moving about, to the man calling himself Jesus. There's no way this was the Jesus.

The man in question reached behind his head, gripped the leather-wrapped hilt, and slowly drew the blade out. Hayden expected to see something huge judging by the size of the hilt, but the blade was only a few feet long and ended in a jagged break.

"Your sword is broken," Hayden said without thinking.

"As it has forever been," Jesus replied. His eyes locked onto the horde, his features set in grim determination. To Hayden, he looked tired.

With that, the man began striding across the stage. Something stirred the hair on the back of Hayden's neck. The air around him felt charged—that feeling you get in a storm when there's lightening close by. Now, like at those times, Hayden wanted nothing more than to find somewhere and take cover.

As Jesus passed by the podium, where Hayden's bible still sat, the entire thing exploded. Shards and splinters of wood, bits of paper and leather, spread into the air as if a bomb went off. Hayden shielded his eyes, but there was no need.