Unbound

Chapter 6

"Are those..." Hayden swallowed. The group stumbling down the road looked to consist of police officers and firefighters, though he thought he saw a few dress suits mixed in.

"Taken," Simon said, sidling back from the gaping hole. "We call them Taken. They are hers now."

"Can't we help them?" Hayden asked.

Simon shook his head. "Only certain blood can break that spell, and Jesus over there looks to be running low. Besides, he'd have to do it one at a time, and I don't think the others would patiently wait."

"Oh Christ, that hurts," Pastor Tim said from across the room. He struggled to his feet, leaning against the counter for support.

"Pastor, tha fella in tha skirt done transmogrified poor Glenn," one of the old women said. All of the elders huddled together in a corner of the room. Hayden noticed that the only ones left were those hard of hearing.

"Wha?" He shook his head and felt at his face. Hayden thought his dad was about to pass out when he pulled his fingers away and saw them coated in his own blood. He looked down at his chest to see the ragged remains of his shirt and smears of blood where his body had been laid open. "What the hell happened to me?" He demanded.

Hayden turned back to Simon, who still peered out at the street. The group was getting closer. Boots and dress shoes clicked on the pavement and echoed eerily on the otherwise silent Sunday night. "What do we do?"

"Well, if we don't want to kill them all, which we probably couldn't even manage right now, then I say we run," Simon said.

"Always, his answer is to run," said Jesus. There was no heat in his words, just resignation. "But he is right. I haven't the strength, he not the courage, and you not the skill. How do we escape this death trap?"

"I said, what in the hell happened to me?" Pastor Tim said, his voice raised.

"Quiet," Simon hissed.

"You quiet, you pathetic excuse for an asshole!" Pastor Tim was livid as he pushed away from the counter. He swayed, but his strength was already returning.

"Too late," said Hayden. At his dad's shout, the horde of men and women down the street had paused and lifted their heads to sniff the air as if they were dogs searching for a scent. Then, all at once, they began running. No more shambling, no stumbling. They had a purpose now. "They're coming!" he shouted, backing away from the hole.

"Out the back," Simon yelled out as he made for the counter. He leaped over it and turned, waiting for the rest to follow.

"What are we running from?" Pastor Tim asked.

Jesus stalked toward him, ripping his broken sword from its sheath at his back. "Death," he said. The tattoo flared to life for an instant, and a large section of the counter evaporated. He held his sword out at his side and the particles flowed up it, then formed into a white and brown blade. He laid it on his shoulder and strode past Simon, straight for the large metal door that led into the cooler.

"That's the freezer," Hayden said as he followed. He pointed toward a door further back with a glowing EXIT sign hanging above it.

"Death," Pastor Tim muttered, but he followed.

Hayden caught Simon's arm before the man could pass him. "What about them?" He asked, nodding his head toward the corner of the restaurant where the elders had gathered.

"They will never be able to keep up, Hayden. I'm sorry. The Taken, they won't even notice them," Simon replied. He patted Hayden on the shoulder before moving on.