Corn, Cows, and the Apocalypse

Beer Shot with an Adrenaline Chaser

"Who's that thinking nasty thoughts?" Haden shouted more than sang.

"Nasty boys!" I offered my quick retort in the truck bed as we rode back home from the bar at dusk.

"Me!" Devin yelled back at us from inside the cab. August leaned against the passenger door across from him, still pondering her woes in silence.

"Who's that in that nasty truck?" Haden amended the next line as she shouted it through the window.

"Don't you call my baby nasty!" Devin said, rubbing the dashboard. Haden laughed and flopped back down.

I crawled over and stuck my head in the window. "Hey." Devin turned down the music so he could hear me. "Stop by the church, I need to see Priest."

Devin immediately glanced at August for permission. She looked at me with the same concern everyone held for me when I mentioned Priest.

"What for?" August asked as if she was only curious and not searching for a way to dissuade me.

"I haven't seen him in months, I'd like to let him know I'm alive, and not... in training anymore." "Being beaten to a pulp" was what I wanted to say, but I was making a concerted effort not to be a bitch. A brat yes, but not a bitch.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea. It's getting late," August said half-heartedly.

"Yeah, that's why I want to stop now, rather than go back with the four-wheeler in the dead of night." I tipped my brow, challenging her to choose between the options.

"You won't be long, will you?" she asked.

"You won't even need to shut the engine off. I just want to update him. Assuming he's not with his harem, I'll be five minutes. If he is, then no minutes, we'll go home."

August nodded to Devin and he made the next turn to head to the small white church on the gravel backroads. As I pulled my head back, Haden jabbed my shoulder—painfully, but she didn't know that.

"Why'd we turn? Where are we going?"

"To see Priest. It won't take long."

Haden grimaced at me. It wasn't the worried look she had earlier, but still her condescending version of it. "What do you see in him?"

I paused to think about that a moment. "Pain, usually," I said before sitting back against the cab. Haden lost the severity of the disdain in her eyes and didn't say anything more on the topic.

When the truck pulled into the drive, I hopped out. I ran to the front doors of the church prepared for a fly-by "Hi." I couldn't hear anything over the truck engine so I peered inside. There was no evidence of carnal activities, so I slipped through the doors.

The flickering candlelight was no longer coming from the red wall sconces, but from a mixture of various wax candles around the church. The collection apparently included some scented ones, because the church smelled like Halloween threw up on Christmas.

I stopped midway down the aisle. "Priest." I waited to see if he was inside his dressing room, but I didn't hear him stir. "Priest!" I raised my voice to unmistakable decibels in case he was too trashed to tell the difference between me and his hallucinations.

I felt something was off more than knew. Like the shiver you get when you aren't cold or the one hiccup that has none to follow. Something just wasn't right.

I turned back just as August approached. She seemed surprised that I sensed her, but I wasn't sure I had. I would take credit for the coincidence though.

"What's wrong?" she asked, surveying the room.

"What? I don't know—nothing... something. He's just not here. He's always here."

"Behind the altar." August nodded to the front of the church.

I looked it over. I saw nothing but a slew of drug paraphernalia littered on the sacred table. When I lowered my focus, I saw his feet sticking out from behind it. "Priest?" I was asking myself, not calling to him.

Once I was sure something was wrong, my feet moved. I rounded the marble table and found Priest on the floor. His eyes were narrow slits and his face was ghostly pale. A trail of residual vomit tracked down his cheeks. It was a movie scene I never anticipated seeing in real life.

"Shit!" I hissed and dove to his side. "Priest!" I checked him for signs of life. He was breathing shallowly and his pulse was weak. "Priest!" I yelled at him and slapped his cheek.

"Lenore," August said softly behind me.

"No, August, he's alive," I said.

"I know, but..." She trailed off and I looked back at her. "There's nothing you can do for him. Either he'll make it or he won't."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Can't we... adrenaline shot!" I blurted out my feeble movie-learned first aid.

"No, that's not going to help. His heart isn't in trouble, it's his lungs."

"A cold shower to shock him awake?"

"No." August shook her head again somberly. "There's no more 911, Lenore. There's just common sense and antibiotics. That's it. Let him be, and I'll check on him tomorrow."

"No." I shook my head. "What if he dies?"

"He'll die either way, or he'll live either way."

I looked down at Priest's pale face. I got the feeling this was intentional. If God wouldn't invite him, he would crash the party. "Then he'll die or live with me by his side."

"Lenore, he could be out for hours or days. Please don't ask me to leave you here."

"Fine, then let's take him with us," I negotiated.

August sighed and knelt beside me. Her eyes were more sympathetic and supportive than I expected. She really did love me. As angry as I still was, I loved her. It was just not an option with her. It was hard to look at her, because I knew if she asked me to, I would leave with her.

"I wanted to save you this pain. I didn't want you to have to watch him die like... this," she said, correcting whatever she initially intended to end with.

"I know." I nodded. "I'm a sucker for lost causes. I used to bring stray cats home by the litter. Drove my mom nuts." I chuckled at thinking how similar the situation was. Only, Priest wasn't a stray, he was mine. My friend. I couldn't just leave him here to die. "Wouldn't he have a better chance with a warm fire and a slap in the face every couple hours?"

"And what if he doesn't survive?" she asked.

My eyes watered and danced over hers. I smiled and shrugged. "I never got to keep the cats either."

She looked down at Priest. I could see the disgust she still felt for him. The same disgust I used to feel when I looked at him. "Are you sure he wants to be saved?"

"I know he doesn't." She looked at me, questioning where my motivation was coming from. "We're the heroes, right?"

She put her hand firmly on my shoulder. "Just once though, okay? I won't have you spending your post-apocalyptic life caring for a man who doesn't care about himself." I nodded, but she shook my shoulder to get a more affirmative answer.

"I'll save him once. After that, he's on his own."

It still sounded strange, putting limitations on my heroism. I couldn't imagine Superman handing out punch cards for rescues. Only one rescue per year and ten total per lifetime. At any rate, I understood what she meant. To her, Priest was beyond hope, destined to be among the "day tens."

Satisfied with my resolve—to limit my resolve—August and I loaded Priest up and took him back to the house.