Evil is Alive

They ran. Down the dimly lit but well beaten path they ran. We can't risk the rough terrain off the road, Simon thought. Debbie seemed to understand, and they continued running. Behind them, distantly, they heard the shriek of their pursuer, Rod. Nimrod the hunter-priest, Phineas had called him.

♬It doesn't always have a shape

Almost never does it have a name

Why is he chasing us, Simon thought. What kind of insane little town have we fallen in to? He looked over at Debbie, who was breathing heavily but doing better than he was.

It maybe has a pitchfork maybe has a tail

But evil is alive and well

They ran for what felt like days to Simon, although it was still the dead of night. His head throbbed and he felt a stabbing pain in his lungs as he continued to run with all his might.

♬It might walk upright from out of the inferno

May be coming horseback through deep snow

It's ragged and fat hungry as hell

Evil is alive and well

♬Evil is alive, evil is well

Evil is alive, evil is well

On your feet to the tower and yell

Evil is alive and well

Simon felt his fingertips start to tingle and his chest began to tighten. He slowed down, listening as he did for signs of Rod or his followers.

"Hurry up!" Debbie said in a harsh whisper. Simon barely heard her as he leaned up against a tree beside the path. Debbie turned and grabbed Simon's arm. "We have to keep going!"

"Have to... catch breath..." Simon said, panting. "I'm gonna... give my... self... heart attack."

"Well," Debbie said, "let's get off the road." She began leading him into the brush.

"You should... go on," Simon said.

"No," Debbie said. "That's not what I'm going to do at all."

They sat on the cold ground, leaning against trees. Simon realized he'd left his guitar leaning against the side of the chapel. He feared he would never see it--or any of his companions from the mission--again. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to regain the strength to keep running.

He heard a rustling. Simon glanced at the nearby brush. With a horrifying shriek, Rod lept from grass--naked, covered in blood, and wielding a hatchet.

"AHH!" Simon exclaimed as he sat bolt upright. He continued looking at the brush. Nothing.

Debbie was on him in an instant, covering his mouth with her hand. "Shh! Be quiet!" she said. Simon didn't remember nodding off, but he felt he must have. And Rod used a tomahawk, not a utility hatchet. "We need to keep moving; can you just jog?" Debbie asked.

Still shaken, Simon nodded. They got up, worked their way back to the road, and continued at a more measured pace.

♬May be too humble to want to speak

May have a blood soaked bird in it's teeth

Smoked filled skies and bees in the well

Evil is alive and well

♬May be in a palace it may be in the streets

May be here among us on a crowded beach

May be asleep in a roadside motel

But evil is alive and well

♬Evil is alive, evil is well

Evil is alive, evil is well

On your feet to the tower and yell

Evil is alive and well

They kept on, sometimes jogging, sometimes walking, but always on. As dawn light was just filling the air they saw structures ahead, just off the road.

"Is it the town?" Debbie asked.

"No," Simon said. "It's the mine. The one where John worked." Simon stared at the buildings. It was relatively modern, with a mine elevator structure and office buildings for keeping records. There was still an older footpath entrance to the mine that seemed in good repair, being blocked by two large aluminum doors that had been left ajar.

"We need a breather," Debbie said.

"And water," Simon said.

"Yes, exactly," Debbie said. "Why don't I look for that while you see what you can find out about your brother?"

"Alright," Simon said. They approached the abandoned mine and entered separate buildings.

♬It's well

Down in every ditch, up on every hill

It's well

I've got my radio on, drowning the bells

♬When midnight's done and the day won't start

And all I ever gave you was a broken heart

It's hard to admit but it's easy to tell

That evil is alive and well♬

---

Simon began sifting through the foreman's office. He first foraged through the file cabinet looking for personnel files. He found his brother's name--STONE, JOHN--but the file was empty beyond HR paperwork. Not even a reprimand. John always kept on the straight and narrow, Simon thought.

Simon then began rifling through the desk drawers. In the top right drawer he found a silver revolver with a black handle. The six chambers were full, but two of the rounds had been fired. Simon slipped the gun into his pocket. He also came across a hard hat with a light on it. Simon slipped it on his head and flipped the light on. The light rivaled the glare from the rising sun coming through the window. "These batteries must be worth a fortune," Simon said as he turned off the light.

He continued searching, eventually coming across a tray on the desk marked OUT. It contained a number of bills and trash, and tucked away to the side, an envelope addressed to Simon at his old Manhattan apartment. Simon ripped the envelope open. It contained a letter from his brother.

♬I wished I was smarter 

I wished I was stronger

I wished I loved Jesus

The way the my wife does 

I wished it'd been easier

Instead of any longer

Simon's hands shook as he held the letter. He nearly fell into the office chair as he tried to sit. He had hoped to find some indication of what had happened to John, and here he was about to find out from John himself. It was dated ten days before the first ghouls started showing up in New York over a year ago; it likely wouldn't tell Simon anything about where John was now. Still, he was afraid to read it.

"When you wrote this, she was still alive," Simon said aloud. "Alright, here goes..."


"My dear Simon,
"With all the strange stories we've been hearing, I probably shouldn't assume either of you are still alive.

I wished I could've stood

Where you would've been proud

That won't happen now

That won't happen now

I can't think that way, of course, I'm not built for it. I've always lived in a world where God is real and hope is important. And I hope when you get this letter you won't be saddened or depressed about how we may never meet again. So before you read on, I want you to look in my little girl's face and say 'It's a letter from your daddy. We'll see him again, though we may have to wait a while.'

♬There's a whole lot of singing

That's never gonna be heard

Disappearing every day

Without so much as a word

somehow

"It's been a strange couple of days, and I'll only just mention some of the things I've seen. Although I don't know for sure, I think it has to do with when we found--

Simon felt the office building shake as the winged creature grabbed hold of the side of it. The creature let loose its whale-like moan / ghoulish shriek as it leaped from the building and glided toward the supply building Debbie was in.

"Debbie!" Simon shouted. As he bolted for the door he slipped the letter in his pocket and removed the gun. As he opened the door and raced toward the supply building, he found himself shouting again. "Debbie!"

"He's here?!?" Debbie said as she emerged from the building. She began to walk down the wooden steps as Simon reached her, pulling her down to the ground and hiding underneath the steps. "Why are you yelling?"

Simon looked up. Nothing. No winged creature, no noise, not even a cloud in the sky. "It was here..."

"Are you trying to get us killed?!?" Debbie said. "Rod could still be out there."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Simon said. "I thought I saw..."

"Well you didn't," Debbie said. "Don't always trust what you think you see." She handed him a thermos. "Drink some water, you're dehydrated." Simon did.

Simon heard it again. The shriek, coming from the edge of the woods. He glanced at Debbie, who had gone pale and was looking in the same direction. "You heard that one, didn't you?" He said.

"What do we do?" Debbie asked. As they looked on, Rod emerged slowly from the woods. He was utterly naked, his wild hair and mane rustling as he moved. He held his tomahawk firmly in hand.

"I have one idea," Simon said. "It's not very good, but it could work. While I was in the office I found this." Simon held up the gun in his hand. "It only has four shots, but that could do it."

"Oh no, Simon," Debbie said. "It's too risky."

"It would be," Simon said. "I'm not a good enough shot and he's too agile, unless I can get him in a confined space. Those doors over there," he said, gesturing to the aluminum doors across the mine entrance, "they're an older entrance to the mine. Probably long and straight, with a low ceiling. If I can get him to chase me in there, he won't be able to maneuver and he probably won't be able to throw the tomahawk. He'll have to run in close to get me, and I'll be able to shoot him before he can reach me."

"This is a terrible idea and I don't like it," Debbie said.

"Neither do I, but then I'm not a big fan of being chased by an insane backwoods hunter-priest, either," Simon said. "I'll have to make a run for it. When he comes for me, you slip behind him quietly and get back on the road. Keep going until you reach the town, I'll catch up when it's done."

"You'll catch up? Really?" Debbie said.

"Hey, no fat jokes when I'm about to be a hero," Simon said.

"What if the mine shaft is closed, or unstable? You don't know what's in there," Debbie said. "Simon, don't do--"

Simon ran out from under the stairs and into the morning light. He slipped the gun back into his pocket and turned toward Rod. "You want me, you bastard?!? Just try and catch me!" With that, Simon ran as he'd never run before. He didn't look back. He just ran for the mine entrance. For an instant he had the image of his niece's face in his mind. She looked worried.

We'll see him again, Simon thought.

Think I broke the wings

Off that little songbird

She's never gonna fly 

To the top of the world

Right now 

As Simon reached the doors, he flung one side open as far as he could and kept running. Gotta get far enough in that he can't use that damned axe, Simon thought. The light from the doorway illuminated a long tunnel with a low clearance, just as he'd hoped. He ran and ran until he started to catch up with the shadows from the entryway, then spun around and pulled out the gun.

Rod slowed as he approached the entrance, pulling the doors open even wider and taking a few steps into the tunnel before stopping. He stood there, silhouetted against the entryway with his head cocked to the side questioningly. He hesitated to come in further.

"Come on, you bastard, come kill me!" Simon shouted. Rod stood there.

What seemed like a long time had passed when Rod suddenly stepped back from the entrance. He grabbed the two aluminum doors and slammed them shut, one at a time. Simon found that the tunnel was surprisingly dark. He started walking toward the entrance, concerned about would happen next. He then heard the scraping of rock against rock, and a heavy bang from the doors as something was leaned up against them. More scraping and another bang.

"No, no, no, no!" Simon charged the doors and started pushing on them, but to no avail. He was being sealed in.

♬Top of the world

After the banging had stopped, Simon heard the faint sound of dripping water from further in the mine shaft. With nowhere else to go, Simon flipped the lamplight on his helmet on and descended into the mine.

---

♬I don't have to answer

Any of these questions

Don't have no god to

Teach me no lessons

I come home in the evening

Sit in my chair

One night they called me for supper

But I never got up 

I stayed right there 

In my chair

♬There's a whole lot of singing

That's never gonna be heard

Disappearing every day 

Without so much as a word

somehow

I think I broke the wings

Off a little songbird 

She's never gonna fly 

To the top of the world 

Right now

The walls of the mine were machined and regular, as one might expect. Before long the ceiling lowered so much that Simon couldn't walk upright anymore. Pipes and power lines stretched across the ceiling, coming from blackness on one side and headed toward nowhere on the other. As he continued the air felt thicker. Coal dust, Simon thought. Since the mine didn't seem to have power, he wondered if the stillness of the air risked an explosion, but then decided it was too late to worry about that. He kept walking.

Simon walked, hunched over, with only the light of his helmet lamp for what felt like hours. He found himself vaguely following a group of power lines, hoping to find an electric car or something that could lead him to the main elevator, the only other exit he was aware of. Although he was nervous that Rod would be waiting for him there, Simon was willing to take that chance if it meant being back out in the fresh mountain air. He had missed it while in New York, although he didn't realize it until it was taken from him again.

With the range of his lamp far shorter than the open distance ahead of him, Simon's mind began to play tricks on him. He would think he saw motion, someone walking just outside his lamp's range. As he approached, though, there would be nothing there. He might hear a sound like footsteps behind him and turn, only to find a few rocks had settled more firmly into the mine floor. He became disoriented and couldn't quite tell if he was going higher or descending deeper underground, whether he was moving toward the city or back under the village or looping under the mining camp over and over.

Eventually Simon came across a small, wheeled electric cart at a fork in the mine shaft. On his left, the tunnel he had been following continued on, while on his right a rough and uneven opening lead to another machined tunnel. This new tunnel was more square than the previous, and no power lines ran that direction, but the cart was pointed toward it.

Simon was about to turn the cart around and follow the shaft he had been on when he noticed the air in the offshoot shaft was moving slightly. Either there's an exit not too far from here, or some sort of fan still has power this way, Simon thought. I'm less likely to be accidentally blown to bits either way. Simon climbed into the cart, started it running, and took it down the squared tunnel.

♬I wished I'd have known you

Wished I had shown you

All of the things I 

Was on the inside

I'd pretend to be sleeping

When you'd come in, in the morning

To whisper goodbye

Go to work in the rain

I don't know why

Don't know why

As Simon drove, he grew tense. He couldn't see far enough ahead to know what was going to happen next, but he was sure there was some sort of opening in the mine ahead. He couldn't explain why, but the further he went the more anxious he felt. He drove on and on, each moment wondering if he shouldn't turn back. Only stubbornness and a fear that the cart's power could give out kept him going forward. He had to reach the source of the airflow.

"Don't."

He only heard the voice for a moment, but immediately he knew who the owner was--a little blonde girl, not yet ten years old, wearing a blue dress. Simon dismissed the hallucination and kept on.

As Simon looked ahead, squinting, he noticed a faint bead of light. As he got closer, the light became brighter and its origin further over his head. He had failed to notice that the tunnel he had been in had widened, with the ceiling receding further and further. As he got close to the area with the light, he could see it was high overhead now, with a column of light falling from it to the ground below. The light bounced off of something at the bottom of it, but before he could get close enough to see what it was he had to slam on the breaks.

The tunnel had opened into what seemed to be a huge cavern. This had clearly not been cut by the miners, although the ground and walls were worn smooth. Simon had to stop because he had come up on some sort of underwater pond near the entrance to the cavern. It could have been a part of an entire underground lake as far as Simon could tell in the dim light from above. He drove around cautiously, trying to see if there was a way to get around the water and closer to the light. He finally found a narrow crossing, but not wanting to risk his cart, he decided to wade across.

It turned out that the pool was less than two inches deep, and he crossed easily, despite the fact that the pool was not water after all. It was some sort of tar, possibly even the edge of some untapped oil reserve. Simon  walked through the sticky substance without much difficulty and approached the brightly lit circle directly under the light. He could hear the wind faintly overhead, and as he knelt down to look he felt sick to his stomach.

♬Cause everyone's singing

We just wanna be heard

Disappearing every day 

Without so much as a word

somehow

Wanna grab a hold

Of that little songbird 

Take her for a ride 

To the top of the world

Right now

(instrumental interlude)

Bones. Human bones. Tattered shreds of clothing lay strewn about, but the bones themselves were clean and dry. With a sinking feeling, Simon looked closer at one of the articles of clothing.

He recognized it as the shirt Old Zeke had been wearing the night before.

The well, Simon thought. But if that was last night, what cleaned these bones? Was that strange light...? Simon glanced around him at the tar, then down at his boot. It, too, was clean.

All around him, the lake started to quiver and move as if something were approaching. The cavern began to fill with a peculiar light. Simon couldn't describe the color that filled the space, but he could see that the tar wasn't moving because something in it was approaching. It was just moving. He inched back towards his cart, but stumbled. The glowing tar was right beside him as he scrambled back. The fluid pulled back as if by a tide, but then kept pooling and building up right beside him. It build up several feet above him before starting to take a shape. An orb formed on top of the tower of tar, and on the orb Simon began to make out spaces for eyes, a nose, a mouth... the fluid was forming into a man, and a man Simon recognized all too well.

"John?"

The man-thing let out a blood-curdling shriek. It took a step toward him, and Simon screamed. He stood and ran, ran right past the man-thing, right over the tar, and dove into his electric cart. With tears filling his eyes, he drove as fast as he could as the shrieks of the monster faded behind him.

♬Ohhh, ohhh

To the top of the world

To the top of the world

To the top of the world

To the top of the world

To the top of the world

To the top of the world

To the top of the world

To the top of the wo-o-o-o-r-r-r-r-ld ♬

---

Simon drove and drove. He kept the car at full speed even when it started to slow down. When he saw the small opening in the cave wall, he just drove straight toward it. And when the cart spilled out the opening, tumbled, and tossed him into the brush as twilight approached, Simon recovered his sense of direction and began crawling away from the cave.

"Simon? Simon!"

Debbie ran up to him and embraced him. "God! I thought he'd gotten you! Where did you just come from?"

"What?" Simon said. "I didn't come from anywhere."

"I thought Rod had killed you and thrown you down that well or something," Debbie said.

"I think maybe he did," Simon said. "Wait, is he still after you?"

"He was," Debbie said. "I haven't seen him, though. Drink this." She offered him some water.

"I thought I'd lost you," Debbie said, "I'm not sure what I'd do with myself if I had."

"Just do what the best of us do," Simon said. "Go mad. Just let your brain make up any kind of insane thing for you to see and go on with life." Simon looked around. "Before that happens, though, I think we should keep moving."

"Where did you come from, anyway?" Debbie asked. "You just popped out of the side of a mountain."


"It was the mine," Simon said. "At least, I got there through the mine."


"What happened in there?" Debbie asked.


There was a hiss as the tomahawk flew through the air and found its mark in Debbie's back. Simon caught her as she stumbled.


"Debbie? Debbie?!? No, no, no," Simon said, kneeling as he held her. This was no hallucination. Without a sound, Rod walked up to them and stood over them.

♬Playground school bell rings again

Rain clouds come to play again

Has no one told you she's not breathing?

Hello

I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to

Hello

As blood streamed onto his hands, Simon held Debbie and looked up at Rod. He looked down, emotionless, his eyes black and inky.


"You bastard," Simon whispered. "Debbie? Deborah? We'll get you help, we'll find help somehow. You'll be okay. Debbie?"


Simon looked back up at the hunter-priest. Rod continued to stare, but the inky substance pulled away from his eyes. He seemed to come out of a trance.


"She's died, Simon," Rod said. "It's over. It has been satisfied."


"She's not dead!" Simon shouted. "God damn you to hell!"

♬ If I smile and don't believe

Soon I know I'll wake from this dream

Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken

Hello

I'm the lie living for you so you can hide

Don't cry

Simon fumbled in his pocket and produced the gun. He raised it and pointed it at Rod.


"If God has any power, I'm sure he's already done just that. But for you, this is over," Rod said. "Give me my weapon, I'll leave you to give her a proper burial."


"Your weapon?" Simon said. "You've murdered her and you want to keep the hatchet??! Is this what you want!" Simon pulled the tomahawk from her back and threw it at Rod's feet. Simon then laid Debbie gently on the ground and closed her eyes.


Rod bent low to pick up his tomahawk, but just as his fingers reached it Simon's shoe stepped on the handle. Rod stood up, towering over Simon.


"I want my weapon," Rod said.


"Take this," Simon said. He thrust the gun into the mass of Rod's beard and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the woods and left Simon's ears ringing as Rod reeled back. Simon felt, but did not hear, himself screaming as he pointed the gun at Rod's body and fired three more times. Every shot landed, driving Rod back against a tree.


Simon continued pulling the trigger, his ears finally registering the click, click, click as he did so. He stared at Rod's body. The wounds began to slowly trickle blood. And yet it wasn't blood at all; it was as black as that mine had been. Rod turned his head toward Simon again, and took a step forward.


"You cannot kill me, stranger," Rod said. "My task is done. Bury her with dignity and be happy worse did not come to her. Then leave my mountain."

Rod turned and walked back into the woods. Simon dropped the gun and dropped to his knees, weeping.

♬Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping

Hello

I'm still here

All that's left of yesterday♬

---

Don't miss next month's episode, Silent Screams.

Check out this episode's songs:

Evil is Alive and Well by Jakob Dylan

Top of the World by the Dixie Chicks

Hello by Evanescence

The Devil's on his Way

♬They press their lips against you

And you love the lies they say

And I tried so hard to reach you

But you're falling anyway

♬And you know I see right through you

'Cause the world gets in your way

What's the point in all this screaming?

You're not listening anyway♬

"Very nice, guys, thanks," Simon said. He sat on Eli's porch, playing with some of the townsfolk of Gibeah as the sun set over the hill. They had enjoyed the hospitality for two days as their pilot recovered, and had not seen the creature since the crash. Simon was beginning to feel comfortable there, although the residents of Gibeah still acted uneasy around the strangers. "I really like the mandolin addition, it fills out the song really well."

"Well, thanks," Eli said, "I try to contribute where I can. Let's not forget my great uncle Zeke on the banjo, well done, sir!"

"Many thanks," Zeke said. "These old bones don't move about so well anymore, but when the music is on these hands still have some life left in 'em!"


"I'm surprised you're such a music lover, Reverend, since you didn't sing during the worship service the other morning," Debbie said.

"Everything in its proper place, Deborah," the Reverend said. "In the same vein, when I am not occupying the pulpit of the Most High, please call me Phineas."

"Is that why you only use the Old English in the sermon?" Milton asked. "Speaking about a god requires special language?"

"In a way, Milton," Phineas said. "The wider world has dropped the familiar forms, as have we. And perhaps this is fitting, as familiar relations seem less honored than they once were, yes? Our intimate affections are to be available to all, and yet to none at the same time. But when speaking for the Maker of Man, how can there be any form except the familiar?"

"You strike me as funny people," Milton said. "Your ways seem almost backward, even in these reduced times, yet you have a certain logic that I find it hard to fault. You're not the backwoods hillbillies I expected to find in the lost hills of West Virginia."

"Then you just don't know us well enough yet," Eli said, smiling. "Three days is hardly enough time, I guess. We have our share of tobacco-spitting Ewells here."

"To Kill a Mockingbird," Simon said. "Nice reference."

"So you've got your share of bibliophiles, too," Debbie said.

"I probably read more than the average person in town," Eli said. "More fiction, anyway. We all read the Bible regularly."

"As well as a variegated assortment of more arcane and blasphemous scriptures, for some," Phineas said.

"Has that been a problem in the town for a long time?" Debbie asked.

"Dear me," Phineas said, "how can I answer such a question? Occult meddlings have plagued the chosen people since Sinai, so in that sense our fathers brought the problem with them when they got here. But with specific bearing on Gibeah, no. We prided ourselves on the centrality of the true Gospel when the town was built. The chapel in which we still worship was specifically placed at the center of the town to serve as a keystone, a structure by which the town itself stands or falls just as our salvation stands or falls by the Word of the King.
"It wasn't until my father's generation that the whisperings started. A few of the townsfolk had grown restless with following the same ways as our parents. A miner gave a gift to one of the congregants as a curiosity: a dark book written by a mad Arab, supposedly found in the dust of the mine itself.
"Still, even then we would not have allowed anyone to practice the evil in the book, but the book remained. Now, it has become a second baptism for most of my sheep, a calf in Bethel to lead them on the path of a heathen god."

"Is it really so serious? I mean, exploring other religions will surely lead them to whichever one is truest, wouldn't you think?" Milton said.

"If the heart of man were true, then exploring that heart would lead to truth," Phineas said. "But the heart of man loves evil continually, and will never keep from evil unless it be forced away by Divine power. If it turns back to explore evil again, the eternal salvation that once was sure may be gone forever."

"See, right there I'm not quite sure where you're coming from," Simon said. "In one breath you say that only God can change a man's heart, and in the next you say men can change their own back again. It can't be both ways, can it?"

"Yes, exactly," Milton said. "Are you a determinist, or a libertarian?"

"I am a Minister of the Word of the Most High," Phineas said. "If the Word says God must act, so say I. And if the Word says man must choose, so say I. And when it says both, I say both; I sort it out as best I can and feel no anxiety when I can't. The Word won't bear the labels you wish to give it, and so I will not humor such questions from the laity any further than that."

"Well, then," Debbie said. "I guess that settles the matter."

"Eli, do you believe this sort of thing?" Milton asked.

"I... would rather not get into it tonight," Eli said. "I just wanted you all to come over and enjoy some music."

"But what about you, Simon? Do you believe in this?"  Milton asked.

"Sometimes," Simon said. "I used to believe it. Sometimes I still believe it with all my heart. But sometimes I think about everything that's happened, about how awful and empty and meaningless everything can be, and it all just sounds like... I don't know, children's stories. Fairy tales." He began plucking at his guitar.

♫Very superstitious, writing's on the wall,

Very superstitious, ladder's 'bout to fall,

Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin' glass

Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past.

When you believe in things that you don't understand,

Then you suffer,

Superstition ain't the way

♫Very superstitious, wash your face and hands,

Rid me of the problem, do all that you can,

Keep me in a daydream, keep me goin' strong,

You don't wanna save me, sad is my song.

When you believe in things that you don't understand,

Then you suffer,

Superstition ain't the way, yeh, yeh.

♫Very superstitious, nothin' more to say,

Very superstitious, the devil's on his way,

Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin' glass,

Seven years of bad luck, good things in your past

When you believe in things that you don't understand,

Then you suffer,

Superstition ain't the way♫

"What's this about superstitious folk? I can't stand 'em." Rod, the man who had rescued them after the crash, walked up to the porch. His long, raven colored hair and Amish beard, accompanied by his black clothing, highlighted his face atop his very tall frame.


"Rod! I didn't expect you tonight," Eli said as the two men embraced.

"I just thought I'd stop by between here and there," Rod said. "I saw it hovering over the mine again today. I'm not sure we'll ever be rid of the beast."

"You mean that thing that attacked us?" Simon said. "What is it?"

"We've got lots of guesses," Rod said, "but that's really all they are. We don't really know. The preacher here has a pretty fantastic theory, though. Good evening, Phin." Phineas nodded at Rod coldly, but did not speak.

"What do you think it is?" Debbie asked.

"I don't 'think', I know," Phineas said. "As surely as I know my own face, I recognized him when he arrived. I've been expecting him."

"Him?" Milton said. "An old business partner of yours?"

"Something like that, yes," Phineas said. "I shan't bore you with it, though. It would be foolishness to you."

"Phineas, please," Eli said. "They want to learn, not to mock. Don't you?"

"I do, anyway," Debbie said.

"Actually, I think the Reverend is right, I am likely to merely mock," Milton said. "And after that rousing rendition of Stevie Wonder, I wouldn't expect much else from Simon here."

"I'm just playin'," Simon said. "I'll leave the arguments to you guys."

"Say, if you're playing, I'll join in for a song," Rod said. "Eli, you still have that old fiddle in the parlor?" Eli nodded as Rod entered the house.

"I must take my leave, then," Phineas said. "Rest well, all of you. Eliezar, thank you as always for your hospitality." He began to walk away. "Oh, and don't venture out tonight. It would be a poor evening to learn too much about our town. Don't let them wander, Eliezar; these things are not their concern." With that, he walked away, back toward the chapel.

"What did that mean?" Debbie said.

"Is he going back to the church?" Milton said.

"Several nights each month he lights candles in the chapel and prays until dawn," Eli said. "He doesn't like to be disturbed. It's usually nights when Rod is gone until morning. Are you going tonight, Rod?"

"I am," Rod called from inside. "Would you like to join me? You'll never regret it."

"Not tonight, thanks," Eli said.

"Alright, I figure I'll keep asking," Rod said. "You might change your mind. The things these hills can show you in the night."

"Things like that 'beast' of yours?" Simon said.

"That's just scratching the surface," Rod said. "The high hills, the caves, the deep wells... this country is full of more secrets than anyone from the outside would imagine."

"You're amazingly calm for a man who has to scare off a flying sea worm with a hatchet," Simon said.

"'Flying sea worm'?" Milton said. "What do you mean?"

"Well, isn't that sort of what it looked like?" Simon said.

"That's not what I saw at all," Milton said. "Not that I saw it clearly, mind you, what with all the smoke. But nothing so fantastic as all that."

"What smoke?" Simon said. "Debbie, you saw it right? What did it look like to you?"

"I don't know, some kind of animal," Debbie said.

Simon began to feel self-conscious as he realized his mind may have run away with him. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Truth is, no two people see it the same," Rod said as he came back with the fiddle and a drink. Eli raised an eyebrow questioningly, but Rod waved him off. "It's not a thing that belongs to this world, so I figure our eyes just aren't made to see it right. In any case, I prefer to think about things closer to the earth, the here and now. Making up stories isn't going to get us anywhere, and frankly it makes my head hurt."

"Something I can relate to," Simon said. "What do you want to play?"

"Here's an old one you ought to know," Rod said. "Uncle Zeke, let's see if those quick fingers of yours can keep up."

♫The fox went out for a chase one night

Prayed to the moon to give him light

For he had many a mile to go that night

Before he reached the town-o town-o town-o

He had many a mile to go that night

Before he reached the town-o.

♫He ran right up to the farmer's pen

Ducks and the geese were kept therein

He said a couple of you gonna grease my chin

Before I leave this town-o town-o town-o

A couple of you gonna grease my chin

Before I leave this town-o.

♫He grabbed the gray goose by the neck

Slung the little one over his back

He didn't mind the quack quack quack

And the legs all dangling down-o down-o down-o

He didn't mind the quack quack

And the legs all dangling down-o.

♫Old Mother Pitter Patter jumped out of bed

Out of the window she popped out her head yelling

John, John, the gray goose is gone

And the fox is on the town-o town-o town-o

John, John, the gray goose is gone

And the fox is on the town-o.

♫John he ran to the top of the hill

Blew his horn both loud and shrill

The fox said I'd better flee with my kill

For he'll soon be on my trail-o trail-o trail-o

The fox said I'd better flee with my kill

For he'll soon be on my trail-o.

♫He ran right up to his cozy den

There were his little ones, eight, nine, ten

They said daddy won't you please go back again

For it must be a mighty fine town-o town-o town-o

Daddy wont you please go back again

For it must be a mighty fine town-o.

♫The fox and his wife without any strife

Cut up the goose with a fork and knife

They'd never had such a supper in their life

And the little ones chewed on the bones-o bones-o bones-o

They never had such a supper in their life

And the little ones chewed on the bones.♫

"Hot damn, that was good!" Rod said. "You're pretty good there, stranger!"

"Well, thank you," Simon said, "you're none too shabby yourself."

"Gotta keep busy around here somehow," Rod said. "Speaking of which, I'd better get a move on. Eli, last chance."

"I'll see you in the morning, Rod," Eli said. "I've got some reading to do, anyway."

"Suit yourself," Rod said. "How about you, Uncle Zeke? It'd be a good night for it."

"You know," old Zeke said, "I think I will. If you can be patient with me, that is." He stood slowly and picked up his rustic, homemade cane.

"Very good," Rod said. "Gentlemen. Lady." Rod and Zeke left in the direction of the woods. They carried no light, although what looked like several candle lights seemed to be moving in the same direction further in.

"So your friend ought to be on his feet in another day or two," Eli said. "What will you all do then?"

"We were sent here with a mission," Milton said. "I suppose we should try to follow it. I, at least, will head down the mountain into Greenfield. Is it far?"

"Not too far. It's rough traveling by foot, it might take a day's walk or a bit more," Eli said. "You can go right past the mine and straight into town. I've gotta say, though, I'm not sure what you expect to find. The ghoulish folk came up from that way in droves. Are you just looking for survivors, or anyone in particular?"

"My brother lived there," Simon said. "He worked in the mine."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he's all right," Eli said.

"Me too," Simon said, "although I don't know what I'll say if I find him."

"If it were me," Eli said, "I'd just say 'I love you.' Anything else is just extra, isn't it?"

Simon smiled. "You're a good man, Eli."

"Hey, will you play us one more?" Eli said. "Then you'd all better get back to the infirmary. I don't want to have Phineas asking me why you were still up and poking around so late."

"Sure thing," Simon said.

♬If I get murdered in the city

Don’t go revengin' in my name

One person dead from such is plenty

No need to go get locked away

♬ When I leave your arms

The things that I think of

No need to get over-alarmed

I’m comin' home

♬I wonder which brother is better

Which one our parents love the most

I sure did get in lots of trouble

They seemed to let the other go

♬A tear fell from my father’s eyes

I wondered what my dad would say

He said I love you

And I’m proud of you both, in so many different ways

♬If I get murdered in the city

Go read the letter in my desk

Don’t bother with all my belongings

But pay attention to the list

♬Make sure my sister knows I loved her

Make sure my mother knows the same

Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing

Like the love that let us share our name

Always remember, there is nothing worth sharing

Like the love that let us share our name♬

---

"A most pleasant evening," Milton said as they walked toward the infirmary where they were staying.

"Yes, it was," Debbie said.

A faint sound of drums rolled from the woods. "Most curious," Milton said. "You know, I don't think I'm quite ready for the evening to end just yet. Would either of you care to see what the hubbub in the woods is about?"

"I think we really should check on..." Simon began.

"He's asleep, he's always asleep," Milton said. "He'll be fine for another half hour. I'm dying to know what's got that codger of a priest so nervous. Are you coming? Debbie?"

"We probably shouldn't," Debbie said, "but I am interested. They don't seem the sorts to gun us down for exploring. I don't know..."

"Tell you what, you can catch up," Milton said as he marched off into the woods.

"That is such a bad idea," Simon said. "That's how horror stories start."

"Simon," Debbie said, "you're suffering from PTSD and survivors guilt from having lived through the end of the world, we just crashed our zeppelin due to an attack by an otherworldly creature, and this is the part where you think the horrors will start? Milton, I'm coming too." She took off after him.

"Debbie!" Simon said. This is such a bad idea, he thought.

Simon kept after them until he could see a  light up ahead in the woods. It was easy traveling for how dark it was. He was walking on what seemed like a well beaten path; whatever was going on out here must have happened before. As the light grew stronger he could make out human figures amid what seemed to be several bonfires.

As Simon caught up with Debbie, he could see much more clearly what was going on. The drums had become quite loud. Many people, presumably townsfolk, were dancing between four fires. Most of them were entirely naked, jumping and writhing to the drum beats. In the center of the fires there was a stone well, but light came up through the well. It was a peculiar light of indescribable color. The ground around the well seemed to be crystallized and reflecting or glowing with this same bizarre color that Simon couldn't quite make out. Some of the dancers were chanting in a language Simon had never heard before. One of the dancers was closer to him, and he caught a glimpse of her eyes. They seemed almost dead, covered in an ink-like substance. It sent chills down his back.

Debbie was frozen in place ahead of him. "Debbie," Simon whispered. "We need to leave. Now."

"Look," she said.

Several people were gathering around the well, including one wearing a robe of animal skins. Another walked forward guiding a man, bent with age. Simon recognized the rustic, homemade cane carried by the naked old man.

"Where is Milton?" Simon whispered. Debbie gestured to their left,  very close to one of the fires. Milton peered out from behind a tree with a look of fascinated horror on his face.

The robed figure led the old man up to the well. The chanting had accelerated, and the dancers were ecstatic. The drum beat was deafening. Suddenly, the drums and chanting stopped as the robed figure grabbed the old man by the hair and swung a tomahawk across the old man's throat. The priest held the man's head above the well as blood poured down into it; with one hand, the priest then pulled the man over, tossing him head first down the well. The cane fell to the earth silently; only the roar of the fires could be heard.

"Wha..."

Simon spun toward the uncontrolled utterance that Milton had released. He looked back at the cultists to see if they heard him. For several seconds no one moved. Then the robed figure lowered his arms. He immediately spun to look directly at Milton. The jet black mane was unmistakable; the cult priest was Rod, his eyes as inky as the rest.

Rod's body let loose a terrible, inhuman shriek that Simon recognized all too well.

He grabbed Debbie by the arm and began to run. Back the way they came, he pulled her along without looking back.

"No, no!" They heard Milton cry out. Still they ran. They ran along the path until they could see the edges of the town buildings. They continued to run until they saw the flickering lights of the candles in the windows of the chapel. Simon pulled Debbie behind him until they reached the chapel door. He pounded on it until it opened, with Phineas standing in the doorway holding a cross.

"There was... Zeke... well... and Milton... they..." Simon tried to say, but couldn't catch his breath from the running.

Phineas lowered his head, mouthed something in Latin, and looked up. "Your friend is lost," Phineas said. "You were right to leave him. Did he see either of you?"

"Wha... what?" Simon said.

"Did he see you? The hunter-priest, did his eyes catch sight of yours, either of you, or only your friend?" Phineas asked insistently.

"I... don't think he saw..." Simon said.

"Maybe," Debbie said.

"What?" Simon said.

"As I was turning," Debbie said, "I think he may have seen me."

"Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!" Phineas said. "Take this." He handed her the cross from his hands. "And whatever you have on your persons. Do not stop until you reach the city. And may God have mercy upon you. Nimrod will have none."

Phineas looked at the both of them. "Don't stand here, you fools. Run! RUN!"

---

Don't miss next month's episode, Evil Is Alive.

Check out this episode's songs:

Acoustic #3 (reprise), performed by A Boy Named Blue

Superstition by Stevie Wonder

The Fox (Traditional), performed by Nickel Creek

Murder in the City by The Avett Brothers

Life Is Old There

♬Friday evening

Sunday morning

All the minutes in between

Bluegrass hearts down on bar stools

Another chance to come clean

It's this city; I don't belong here

Cut my hair, change my name

And I'll stop thinkin' about what I've got to lose

And I'll start singin' of what I can gain♬

It was still dark when Simon awoke in his bunk on the airship. He took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim artificial lights of the cabin before looking around. Most of the crew was already awake, if they had slept at all. He sat up and slid his bare feet onto the warm, humming metal floor below him. Must be right over a steam pipe, he thought. Over by one of the massive windows he saw Milton Burke and one of the crew members immersed in a game of chess, while the pilot concentrated on the forward march of the dirigible. The black outside was slowly fading in to reveal a thick gray fog.

"What time is it?" Simon asked.

"Early," Milton said without taking his eyes off the chessboard. "Quite early in the morning, although not as early as it looks. Blasted fog came in last night, and we've been slow going all night."

"Guess we should've gotten an earlier start," Simon said as he walked over to the chessboard.

"Ha," the pilot said over his shoulder. "It wouldn't be government work if we got things done on time. That, at least, has never changed."

They had gotten an early start the day before, but the briefing on the assignment took most of the day. Instructions on how to bail out of an airship in case of emergency, combined with a leisurely two-hour lunch, managed to keep them from leaving New York until late.

"Knight to E9," Simon said to Milton's rival. "check."

"Here now, if you were waiting until now to reveal you're a chess savant the least you could do is come in on the side of the good guys," Milton said.

"Whichever side I'm on is the good guys," Simon said. "Is Debbie up?"

"Over here," Debbie said, rolling out of her own bunk. "What time is it?"

"Early," Simon and Milton said in unison.

♬It's a crime to need you

The way that I do

It's a crime to need you

The way that I do

♬So go easy

Go honestly

Go easy when you go

Well if you love me, just leave me

Go easy when you go♬

"Let's grab some breakfast," Simon said.

"Sure," Debbie said groggily.

"There any bacon? Fresh bread?" Simon said.

"Ha," the pilot said over his shoulder.

"Councilman Abraham isn't dining with us today," Milton said. "I think there's Pop Tarts and granola bars behind those drawers." He gestured without taking his eyes off the board. "We'll have coffee and tea once we land in Greenfield. Checkmate."

"OK, nobody better ask me to do any thinking or acting friendly until we land," Debbie said.

♬Monday's wishing

Wednesday's waiting

Don't you let time take its toll

December's been drowning in yesterday's dreams

The winter's been good to my soul

♬Darling, can you hear me?

Ten thousand miles away

Out on the road trying to lighten my load

From the price that lovin' you pays

♬It's a crime to need you

The way that I do

It's a crime to need you

The way that I do

♬So go easy

Go honestly

Go easy when you go

Well if you love me, just leave me

Go easy when you go

♬Go easy when you go

Go easy when you go♬

---

Simon and Debbie ate by one of the large windows, desperately wishing they could get a pot of hot, caffeinated beverage. Although still hazing and playing tricks with their eyes, the dim light slowly began to overwhelm the fog, allowing them to just notice the hills of West Virginia around them.

"Looks like I'm almost home," Simon said. "Strange to still think of it that way after all this time." Simon stared outside.

Debbie placed a hand on his sleeve. "If your brother John is alive, we'll find him," she said.

"Yeah," Simon said. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say when we see him. 'I'm sorry' doesn't nearly cover a thing like that."

"You'll find the right words," Debbie said. "I've been praying."

"I thought you weren't being nice until someone gives you coffee," Simon said wryly.

"I'll smack you with something later to make up for it," Debbie said.

Simon picked up his guitar. "Well, since we are no doubt over my native land now, it's only fitting I play a little ditty from Mister John Denver."

♫Almost heaven, West Virginia, 

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River. 

Life is old there, older than the trees, 

Younger than the mountains 

Growin' like a breeze. 

♫Country roads, Take me home 

To the place I belong.

West Virginia, Mountain momma, 

Take me home country roads

♫All my mem'ries, gather round her, 

Miner's lady, stranger to blue water. 

Dark and dusty, painted on the sky, 

Misty taste of moonshine 

Teardrop in my eye. 

♫Country roads, Take me home

To the place I belong.

West Virginia, Mountain momma,

Take me home country roads

♫ I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me, 

The radio reminds me of my home far away 

And driving down the road I get a feeling 

That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday. 

♫Country roads, Take me home 

To the place...

Simon broke off as he stared out the window.

"Something wrong, Simon?" Debbie asked.

"What was that, some kind of bird?" Simon said.

"What was what?" Debbie said. "I didn't see anything."

"In the fog," Simon said.

"I'm not sure you could see anything clearly in fog," the pilot said over his shoulder.

"It looked..." Simon said. "Must've been nothing. Just a trick of the light, that's all." Of course Simon didn't at all feel it was a trick of the light, but he had learned not to be too trusting of his own senses. Still, it had not been his niece that he saw scrolling in and out of the fog.

♫Country roads, Take me home 

To the place I belong.

West Virginia, Mountain momma, 

Take me home country roads

♫Country roads, Take me home  

To the place I belong. 

West Virginia, Mountain momma,  

Take me home country roads♫

Simon looked out again. Nothing.

"How much longer to Greenfield?" Simon asked.

"Fog looks like it's finally going to lift, so we should be there in a few hours," the pilot said. "Just have to get over this little ol' mountain, and Greenfield's at the bottom of the other side."

"Sounds good," Simon said. A motion caught his attention, and he found himself staring out the window of the airship again. Something was definitely moving out there... at least Simon hoped so. As he stared, the movement finally became clear to him. Something was flying beside them. Something alive. A creature trying to hide in the mist.

"What is it, Simon?" Milton asked. "What do you see?"

Simon struggled to make sense of the creature he was seeing, if creature was even the best word for it. His first impression was of a giant insect, like a dragonfly with wings interspersed across its whole body. But then they didn't resemble wings so much as great fluttering leaves extending from a twisted stalk. The front end of the creature had leg-like protrusions and what seemed to be a gaping maw filled with teeth, surrounded on all sides by a flower's stamen. Yet these protrusions seemed to move and turn, watching every direction with a dozen eyes on the ends. The creature flew, and yet didn't; it almost seemed to float or swim through the fog, as if the air were too thick for the creature to fall. The more he strained to see it, the more it resembled a bizarre sea monster pulled out of its natural habitat. It even seemed to fade in and out of visibility, the mouth gulping as it disappeared like an otter surfacing for air. Simon's mind simply lacked the categories to comprehend what he was looking at.

"Debbie?" Simon whispered. "Can you see it?"

"I... I don't know," Debbie whispered back.

"Don't lie to me, if it's all in my head you have to tell me."

"There might be something," Debbie said. "I'm just not sure."

Simon rubbed his eyes and it was gone. He looked all around, finally leaning against the window in order to look up beside the airship's massive balloon.

A giant train of scales, bark, and arachnid legs swooped down past the window. Simon jumped back.

"What was that?" Debbie exclaimed.

"Ha," the pilot said, "I'm tellin' ya, the fog does things to the eyes. I swear I've seen a canary the size of a Honda in fog like this once. Turned out a kid had let a helium balloon fly. Wasn't even yellow!"

"It went under us," Simon said. "Milton, check the other side."

"Alright," Milton said, "but I have to say that I get nervous when 'creative types' start seeing things. Calm and rationality are always called for." Milton looked out the window on his side, squinting. "There's something out there... difficult to make out. Could be anything, really."

"How fast are we going," Simon said. "Slow enough a child's balloon could follow us for ten minutes?"

"Not hardly," the pilot said.

Simon and Debbie went to look out Milton's window. "It was down there," Milton said, "but I can't see it anymore."

The whole airship shook violently for an instant, sending everyone standing to the floor.

"What the f..." the pilot said, interrupted by another shake. The pilot looked at his controls. "We're losing altitude!"

"What in blazes is going on here?" Milton said.

"I think we're gonna find out," Simon said, looking out the window. The creature was looping around from above them, and was now swimming straight for the window. "Get down!"

The glass shattered and wind buffeted everything that wasn't bolted down. Debbie and Milton slid toward the front of the descending craft as Simon grabbed hold of the chess table. For just a moment, Simon looked up.

Its mouth was nearly circular, and huge. The creature could have swallowed Simon in two bites if it wanted to. The eyes peered around the mouth from all sides, twisting and curling against the force of the wind. It seemed to be coated in some sort of mucous or sap. The legs began to grab hold of the side of the cabin and flexed. It might have been trying to pry it open. Like a clam shell, Simon thought.

Just then, the creature seemed to gasp for air and faded out of sight. Treetops began to rustle past the window.

"I'm setting us down," the pilot shouted. "Hold on!"

---

It was light out when Simon awoke on the floor of the airship. His side hurt, and it took him a moment to remember what had happened. "How long was I out?"

"About a minute," Milton said, grabbing Simon through the shattered window and pulling him out. "Whatever that was, it's coming back. Run!"

Simon looked up. The long, worm-like creature was winding up and down in the sky, slowly turning around toward them.

"Wait a second," Simon said, climbing back into the ruined airship.

"Simon!" Milton shouted. "This is not a game!"

Simon glanced around the cabin. Two of the crew lay dead from the crash. His eyes stung from sweat and his head throbbed. "Ah!" Simon exclaimed as he spotted his guitar, safe in its case, by the opposite window. In an instant he emerged from the airship with his guitar in his hand. "I can't leave it. Let's go!"

"Will somebody give me a hand?" the pilot shouted. He was trying to walk, but the blood covering his right leg made clear he wasn't going to move fast.

"Simon, grab him!" Milton shouted. The two of them picked the pilot up by his shoulders, and along with Debbie and two other crew members, they ran.

The ground was uneven and overgrown. The nearby trees were sparse, and after what he saw on the airship Simon was not at all confident tree cover could protect them. They made their way toward a thicker patch of forest in the vague hope they would be harder to spot. Unless it smells its prey, Simon thought. For all I know those "eyes" can smell blood. Simon and Milton tried to keep up with the others, but neither was particularly athletic and the pilot was fading in and out of consciousness.

"Come on, Simon," Debbie shouted over her shoulder. She looked back. "Come on!"

"Hey there!" A voice yelled from the tree line. "This way! Over here!"

"What the ..." Milton began.

Debbie screamed and Simon instinctively dropped to the ground, bringing the pilot and Milton with him. He looked up to see the creature pass within a few feet of their heads, rising again for another pass.

"Go!" Milton yelled, starting to get up. "Leave him!"

"No!" Simon said, lifting the pilot's shoulder. "Help me!" They got up and headed for the voice in the woods.

"Rod!" the voice shouted. "Rod, we need you, now!"

The three of them were only a few yards from the treeline, but the creature had turned and was coming in from the side. Simon knew they weren't going to make it. We should have left him, Simon thought. He knew it would all be over soon. Sorry, John...

A figure came bounding out of the woods with inhuman speed. His foot found a stump and he lept into the air, drawing an arm back and over his head. "AAAARRRGGHH!" he yelled as he raised a tomahawk over his head and threw it directly into the mouth of the creature. The creature jerked away, letting forth a ghastly noise--it made Simon think of a whale's song in the first instant, then of the terrible, inhuman shriek of the ghouls--before fading away. There were blue flashes all around the weapon as it passed through the disappearing creature before the tomahawk fell to the ground.

Simon, Milton, and the pilot reached the trees and were immediately aided by a lean, red-bearded man--the one who had been calling to them earlier, Simon presumed. "Let me take a look at him," the man said. "Are you two OK?"

"We'll live, provided that thing doesn't come back," Milton said. "I'd like to thank our rescuers, what's your name?"

"Hi, I'm Eli Keim," the man said, shaking Milton's hand. "But if it's the hero you want to meet, that would be Rod."

Eli gestured at the man who had just retrieved his weapon and was now walking back to them. He was very tall, greater than six-and-a-half feet. He wore his hair and beard long, but without a mustache, like an inky black lion's mane. His eyes were bright green, with bushy brows above them. As he approached them, he embraced Eli warmly, then turned to look at the newcomers.

"Well, it's a good thing we were out here when you guys crashed," Rod said. "I mean, that was a crash, wasn't it? I don't know much about flying contraptions."

"Yeah," Debbie said. "That was definitely a crash. Did you kill that thing?"

"That?" Rod said, chuckling. "Not a chance. Look." He pulled a nail out of his pocket and held it up to his tomahawk. They clicked together for a moment, magnetized, before the nail slid and fell to the ground. "Barely even nicked him. I think I'm losing my touch. We probably shouldn't linger."

"Their friend's hurt pretty badly, we should take him home," Eli said.

"Is it that bad?" Rod said. "You know the preacher doesn't take too kindly to strangers, especially on the Lord's Day."

"He's bound to notice I'm missing, anyway," Eli said. "And this man really does need our help."

"Then let's get him what he needs," Rod said, picking up the injured man in his arms. "Where were you folks headed, anyway? We haven't met any outsiders in... well, I guess it's coming up on two years now."

"Rod? Milton Burke, PhD," Milton said, shaking Rod's hand. "We were on our way to meet some survivors in Greenfield. We're organizing a provisional government now that the crisis is over."

"Survivors? Survivors of what?" Rod said. "We don't get much in the way of news up here. Greenfield is just down the mountain, though, other side of the mines."

"You guys didn't notice the little zombie apocalypse we had last year?" Simon said.

"Is that what they were, zombies? I figured the city folk had finally lost their manners completely," Rod said.

"Rod likes to play the country bumpkin," Eli said. "We knew something was up, but figured it wasn't a good idea to send people away just for an explanation of why shrieking murderers were coming up the mountain."

"How did you all manage?" Debbie asked.

"Rod," Eli said. "Without him Gibeah would've been wiped off the map."

"Not that we're on most maps to begin with," Rod said with a grin. "Listen, I'll take this fellow over to the doc's place, you guys go in to church so Eli can get him."

"You want us all to go to church?" Milton said.

"Well, I'm pretty much the only one not there most Sundays," Rod said. "Preacher will be wondering where Eli is anyway, and the townsfolk wouldn't take kindly to strangers milling about while they're at chapel."

---

The crash survivors heard music dying down as they approached the old chapel doors.

"Will we be disrupting the service?" Simon asked.

"A hand grenade couldn't break Phineas's concentration when he's about to preach," Eli said. "Just grab a seat in the back. I'll find the doctor and we can go over there after the service."

"If it's all the same to you, I'll wait outside," Milton said. "I'm not much of one for religious rubbish."

"Neither are two thirds of the people in there, so you won't be alone," Eli said. "But I'm afraid it's not all the same to me. Like Rod said, we'd rather not have strangers poking around unobserved."

A man's voice began to echo from inside the chapel.

"OK, he's started," Eli said and opened the chapel door gently.

Simon followed Milton and Debbie and the others into the musty chapel. The congregants were standing, so they slipped in and slid into a back pew mostly unnoticed. Eli went ahead several rows and disappeared into a pew. Simon could barely see him whispering to a bald headed man up ahead. The bald man seemed quite displeased, shaking his head several times before entering the aisle and walking out the back. He gave the visitors a stern sideways glance as he passed them.

"You may be seated," the voice came from the front, and they all were. Simon wanted to just let his mind wander, but the short, robed preacher had a rich, commanding voice pouring over his tuft of beard. He removed his reading glasses and began to speak, and Simon couldn't help but listen.

"Beloved brothers, the words of Abraham weigh heavily on me this day. The Lord reveals to His servant what He intends to do, and the man is terrified by what may come. And so I am likewise terrified of what may come upon us, upon this very people.

"Ye all know, for ye be not outsiders, what we have seen in these latter days. How men took on the manner of beasts; how they ascended this mountain, as if to set themselves against the anointed; how they came upon us and misused us, and how many of our number were lost to their plague and madness; how we saw with our own eyes the curse on God's people carried out when He said 'ye shall eat the flesh of your sons, and the flesh of your daughters shall ye eat';  how the Most High God raised up a judge among us to repel the evil; how the evil of that unholy city below us has laid silent. And we have felt no pity, nor ought we.

"And yet the sins of that city were not so unlike the sins of these two cities. And now, I fear, like the sin growing among us. The iniquity is on the heads of your leaders, as in the days of Korah. I know that many of ye here have been adulterous, running after foreign gods, and listening to the voice of prophets ye have not known. Ye are falling away from your faith, and I do not know if I wish to catch ye.

"Yet catch ye I must, for that is my duty. How can I refuse when Abraham pleads for the lives of those who are not his own? He pleads for Lot, yes, but for many more besides. 'Peradventure there be fifty righteous within the city: wilt thou also destroy and not spare the place for the fifty righteous that are therein?' For such a number, Abraham seeks protection. And again, 'Peradventure there shall lack five of the fifty righteous,' and again 'Peradventure there shall forty be found there,' and thirty, and twenty, and ten. 'I will not destroy it for ten's sake' saith the Lord. Thus does Abraham plead continually for even this small number.

"We know what doth happen: the house of Lot is sent away, and in his absence the cities are destroyed utterly. There were not ten souls worth saving in such a place. And, perhaps, this was so in that other city, given over to the plague and the curse. How many of our number remain true? If ye do not turn, how long can we last before a new plague is born? How long before we, too, are eating the flesh and drinking the blood of our children, partaking in such an unholy communion? For it is a communion the beast-men embraced: a communion of murderers, of adulterers, of witches, of devils. 'Take, eat: this is my body.' So when the devils feast on devils, they do confirm their testament together.

"This table," he said, stepping toward a table and remove a cover over the bread and wine, "is not for such a covenant. If ye would come to this table to confirm your testament with Him, neither I nor any man will stand against ye. But so that I might catch ye, remember that ye cannot commune with God and with a devil. If ye have practiced any such thing, then this body and blood are a curse upon ye, upon ye and all who abide with ye. The jealous husband cannot abide another lover, but will throw the adulteress and her lover alike into the pit. Take us not into the pit, but come to the heavenly manna which leaveth no man hungry. And let us ask for His guidance. Amen."

The whole congregation stood and began to file toward the tables at the front, singing as they walked.

♫Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah,

Pilgrim through this barren land.

I am weak, but Thou art mighty;

Hold me with Thy powerful hand.

Bread of heaven, 

Feed me now and evermore♫

---

Don't miss next month's episode, The Devil's on his Way.
Check out this episode's songs:

Go Easy  by David McMillin
Take Me Home Country Roads by John Denver
Guide Me O Thou Great Jehovah by William Williams

Where These Dreams Go

"How about an old hymn, like Amazing Grace?'' Simon asked.

"Are we practicing for a funeral?'' Debbie responded. "It's kinda depressing.''

"Really? I don't think it's depressing at all,'' Simon said. "It's a beautiful expression of regeneration and the transforming power of the Gospel.'' Debbie looked at Simon skeptically. "You're not the only person with a church background, you know. I used to teach Sunday school for a while,'' Simon said.

"I didn't realize that,'' Debbie said. "Why'd you stop going?''

"It's... kind of a long story,'' Simon said.

"Still playing God-awful street music?'' A man said as he walked up to them. Simon recognized him as the bystander from the argument on Broadway the other day.

"Still complaining about other people's musical tastes?'' Simon said.

"Do you guys know each other?'' Debbie asked.

"No, we don't,'' the man said. "This gentleman made me late to an important appointment the other day. Such is the extent of our acquaintance.''

"Some guys were arguing about MacArthur Park,'' Simon said.

"Yuck,'' Debbie said.

"Yeah, well, they dragged this guy into it, and he basically told all of us we wouldn't know good music if it jumped out of the sewers and bit us on the...''

"Hey, now,'' Debbie said.

"And I've yet to be proven wrong,'' the man said, "unless I misheard, and you were not in fact about to subject us to a puritanical dirge from a defunct religion.''

"Well you're just sweeter than a box of free puppies,'' Debbie said to the man.

"The Christian knows sarcasm,'' the man said as he drew a wind-up watch from his pocket and checked it. "You've evolved after all.''

"I have a couple questions for you,'' Simon said to the man.

"Excuse me?'' the man asked.

"If you answer them, just two questions, I predict I can play one of your top ten favorite songs,'' Simon said.

"I'm intrigued,'' the man said.

"Suppose your true love, the person you care about more than any other person in the world, is going to have her collar bone broken regularly every few years unless you take a pill that makes all music you hear sound like Alice in Chains. Do you take the pill?'' Simon asked.

The man paused for a moment. "That's a ridiculous question. It's completely unrealistic. But just to play along, I think I would have to be a fool to take the pill,'' the man said. "I don't consider myself a fool.''

"One more question,'' Simon said. "Who was greatest: Johnny Cash, Elvis, Bob Dylan, John Lennon, or Michael Jackson?''

"That would obviously be Elvis Presley,'' the man said before glancing at Simon's guitar. "Perhaps not as obviously as I thought; Johnny Cash is a legend.''

Simon nodded, then began to strum his guitar.

♫Put on my blue suede shoes

And I boarded the plane

Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues

In the middle of the pouring rain

W.C. Handy -- won't you look down over me

Yeah I got a first class ticket

But I'm as blue as a boy can be

♫Then I'm walking in Memphis

Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale

Walking in Memphis

But do I really feel the way I feel

♫Saw the ghost of Elvis

On Union Avenue

Followed him up to the gates of Graceland

Then I watched him walk right through

Now security they did not see him

They just hovered 'round his tomb

But there's a pretty little thing

Waiting for the King

Down in the Jungle Room

♫Then I'm walking in Memphis

Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale

Walking in Memphis

But do I really feel the way I feel

The man looked on in awe. "How did he know...?'' he asked Debbie. She shrugged.

♫They've got catfish on the table

They've got gospel in the air

And Reverend Green be glad to see you

When you haven't got a prayer

But boy you've got a prayer in Memphis

Simon continued playing the instrumental part. "Maybe we street musicians have a little more to us than you thought.''

"I don't think there's any doubt,'' the man said. "My name is Milton Burke, I'm a consultant for the council.''

"Burke? You used to teach mathematics here at the university, didn't you?'' Debbie said.

"I did, back when universities mattered,'' Milton said.

"Well, it's nice to properly meet you, Professor Burke,'' Simon said. "I'm Simon, this is Debbie.''

"Please, it's Milton. I'd be fascinated to learn more about a man who can read minds like that,'' Milton said. "I'd like you both to join me for dinner at my home on the Governor's Island.'' He took two cards from his pocket and handed them to Debbie. "If you show these to the ferryman he'll take you across.''

"What do you think, Debbie?'' Simon asked.

"Governor's Island? Are you kidding?'' Debbie said. "We'll be there!''

"Brilliant,'' Milton said. "I'll see you tonight. 7:30. Now if you'll excuse me.'' Milton walked away briskly.

"How did you guess that, anyway?'' Debbie asked.

"When he pulled his watch out,'' Simon said, "He dropped a Marc Cohn concert ticket on the sidewalk there. Apparently he figured it was a good enough concert to save through the zombie apocalypse.'' Simon continued to play.

♫Now Muriel plays piano

Every Friday at the Hollywood

And they brought me down to see her

And they asked me if I would --

Do a little number

And I sang with all my might

And she said --

"Tell me are you a Christian child?"

And I said "Ma'am I am tonight"

♫Then I'm walking in Memphis

Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale

Walking in Memphis

But do I really feel the way I feel

♫Put on my blue suede shoes

And I boarded the plane

Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues

In the middle of the pouring rain

Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues

In the middle of the pouring rain♫

---

Simon and Debbie presented the cards to the guard on the ferry to Governor's Island. The guard looked at them with suspicion, but eventually allowed them on. The ferry took them around the east side of the island. They could see the provisional government headquarters, which had been assembled around the old national monument. The ferry ended up at a dock on the south-eastern side of the island, near several small apartment buildings. Sun had set, and Simon and Debbie could see a firepit burning behind one of the apartments. Someone was cooking something over it.

"What do you think the odds are he has fresh steaks and is grilling them for the street performers he met in the morning?'' Debbie asked.

Milton called to them from the firepit and waved.

"Not sure,'' Simon said, "but if he does he just beat out your coffee for my new best friend.'' They walked over to the firepit.

There were no fresh steaks, but there was fresh chicken, which turned out to be much easier to raise in city limits. They gathered around the firepit and enjoyed their meals and small talk for some time.

"Milton, thanks for opening your home for us,'' Simon said as he finished his dinner. "It's been a long time since I've known someone to do that. To be honest, I'm kinda left wondering why.''

"Yeah, I mean, it's really nice what you've done for us, but you didn't seem too interested in making friends at first,'' Debbie said.

"True enough,'' Milton said, "but a couple of things changed my mind. First, there was Simon's trick with the song. One way or another, that was a sharp insight, and I'd like to know a man with that kind of insight. And second, Debbie, you seem to be a devout Christian, yes?''

Debbie adjusted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yeah,'' she said.

"Well, up until yesterday I assumed only the naive and the simple could live through what we have and believe in an overseeing deity,'' Milton said. "But now that I see you are a reasonable person, I wonder how a reasonable person can live through the end of the world and still be a devout Christian. So in short, I found you both fascinating.''

"That's very... enlightened of you, I suppose,'' Simon said. "You seem to take a very detached view of the whole thing.''

"I think all of us who have gone through what we have, seen what we have seen, done what we have done, must become a bit detached in order to stay sane, don't you think?'' Milton said.

"It seems like disconnecting from the most important questions of life isn't 'staying sane,' at least to me,'' Debbie said. Simon was astonished at how unwilling Debbie was to avoid conflict.

"Perhaps you're right,'' Milton said, "in which case reason and objectivity seem to me to be goals worth sacrificing a little sanity to achieve. That's how I'd always assumed otherwise intelligent Christians held on to their belief in God, so it's only appropriate I consider its possible application to myself.''

"So you really do believe in logic above all else?'' Simon said. "That seems like a hard way to live.''

"It used to be,'' Milton said. "The prestige it brought only barely made it palatable. But when the dead form of my next door neighbor, pleasant old woman that she was, started hobbling toward my car, it was logic that reminded me that by definition what I had to do was not, in fact, a hit-and-run killing. And now it is this same objectivity of analysis that enables this fine meal of ours. So it has its advantages.'' Milton poured himself a glass of very old scotch, and offered some to the others. Debbie declined, but Simon wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.

"But my story isn't so interesting,'' Milton said. "Where do you come from, Simon? What manner of people raise a son that can read minds and then send him off to busk the streets of old New York?''

Simon chuckled. "I guess the trick is they didn't send me. I grew up in Greenfield, West Virginia, went to church every Sunday, and my parents managed to save enough money to send me to college. After my second year, though, the guys in my band decided to come to New York City to cut a record and try making it big. I decided to go along over my parents... forceful... objections. Been here ever since.''

"Did you stay in contact with your family before the crisis?'' Milton asked.

"Mostly through my brother, John,'' Simon said. "While I was trying to make ends meet working two jobs here, he decided to skip college altogether and took a job as a miner. Raised up a nice little family and everything.''

"Where is your brother now?'' Milton asked.

Simon remained silent for a while. "I haven't heard anything,'' Simon said finally.

"You should take an airship down there to find out about them,'' Debbie said.

"Maybe,'' Simon said. "If I ever save up enough for that kind of trip.''

"You say you went to church as a child?'' Milton said.

"Yeah, even taught Bible some here for a while,'' Simon said. "I really enjoyed that.''

"But you stopped going,'' Milton said.

"It got complicated,'' Simon said. "I still believe Christianity is true. I guess I'm still working out everything that's happened.''

"A reasonable reaction, all things considered. But you, Debbie,'' Milton said. "You never gave up on the church.''

"Well, the church is the whole reason I ended up in New York,'' Debbie said. "I came as an intern for the student ministry. That was my support structure, I couldn't have turned to anyone else if I'd wanted to.''

"It would have been good to have a coherent social group during the crisis,'' Milton said. "At least, I assume it was at first.''

"It was,'' Debbie said. "When things first got bad we all gathered at the church building. It just seemed like the safest place we could go.''

"I'm not sure how logical that was,'' Milton said.

"It might not have been, but it seemed right,'' Debbie said. "We organized supplies, shared resources--the church really took care of its own.''

"I'm curious,'' Milton said, "and stop me if this is too hard or offensive a question, but... who did you have to kill?''

"I'm sorry?'' Debbie said.

"The one thing we all have in common now that our progenitors never did is that we've all been faced with the choice of kill or be killed,'' Milton said. "Did you ever have to kill someone you'd known?''

"Yes,'' Debbie said. "More than one, actually. I knew a lot of students because of my job, and things spread quickly in student housing.''

"What did you do?'' Milton said.

"Yeah, now I want to know, too,'' Simon said.

"Well,'' Debbie said, "without getting too graphic, one of the members of the congregation was on the NYPD, and he owned several guns. He gave me one. I used it.''

"Debbie,'' Simon said.

"I... did what I had to,'' Debbie said.

"And through all that, you never doubted what sort of God could let these creatures loose on mankind?'' Milton said. "What sort of God stands back while brother kills brother, letting it happen in the name of 'free will' I suppose?''

"Actually, I believe the only reason humanity doesn't act this way at all times is because God holds us back,'' Debbie said. "Anyone who thinks people are naturally good hasn't really dealt with other people's crap before.''

"I suppose that is true,'' Milton said.

Simon picked up his guitar. "This is getting a little tense for me. I play when I'm tense,'' Simon said.

"And you look at that Johnny Cash signature for confidence,'' Debbie said.

"True, but then again why not?'' Simon said. "My dad got the signature a long time ago. It's kind of a symbol of having the guts to do what you need to.''

"Like Johnny Cash himself, I suppose?'' Milton said.

"Yes,'' Simon said. "He understood humanity, I think.''

The three sat as Simon played for what seemed like a long while.

"Well, it is getting late,'' Milton said, "and I still have some paperwork to put together for the morning. You are both welcome to stay here tonight, or you can use the cards to take the ferry back to the city. Good night.''

---

A shadow moved behind the bushes on the inland side of the yard. Simon looked over nervously before glancing at Debbie. She didn't seem to notice. A form started to come around into the firelight.

"Simon, are you OK?'' Debbie asked.

Simon looked at Debbie. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?''

"You seem on edge,'' Debbie said.

Simon looked back toward the bushes. He jumped slightly at what he saw. The young blond girl in the blue, blood-stained dress stood there. Her eyes stared blankly forward. Simon closed his eyes tightly and rubbed them.

"See, like that,'' Debbie said. "You're a pretty jumpy guy, you know that?''

"Debbie, about those students you had to kill,'' Simon said. "Do you remember their faces.''

"Every day,'' Debbie said. "It still turns my stomach to think about it. Did you have to kill someone?''

Simon looked down at his guitar. "The week before it all started, my brother John's daughter came up to spend a couple weeks of her summer vacation visiting me. When the zombies came, the first thing I did was steal a hand gun and a bunch of bullets. I figured at that point, my divinely ordained purpose was to protect her, to make sure she got back to her family. After a month or so, she got the flu. We had been getting help from a church group, but the sick were quarantined with no visitors, and I couldn't let her get put in that kind of an environment. So we swapped supplies with them from time to time, but otherwise we held up in my apartment. It was pretty safe, and I hardly even fired the gun. That was before the quicker ones, the ghouls, came.

"I'm not sure how, but we managed to make it through the winter. She was still sickly, but on the mend. She was so scared at night once the ghouls came. The shrieking... it's hard on a kid, you know? I used to play her a song to help her fall asleep.

♫Hush-a-bye, don't you cry

Go to sleep my little baby

When you wake, you'll have cake

And all the pretty little horses♫

"No matter how bad it was, I'd just play her that song, and she could be peaceful. Even on days when I had to use the gun more, we were doing OK.

"She got sick again. I don't know what it was, pneumonia, maybe. I couldn't get help or look for a doctor because of the ghouls, so she just got worse and worse. I tried to tell her not to be afraid, that I would get her back to her daddy.

♫Hush-a-bye, don't you cry

Go to sleep my little baby

When you wake, you'll have cake

And all the pretty little horses♫

"She died as I was playing. The ghouls managed to get through the barricade downstairs and into the apartment building. I wasn't about to let them have her body, so I took the gun and the rest of the bullets and blew them away. They just kept coming. Twenty, thirty, probably more---They kept running up the hallway, and I kept shooting. I ran out of bullets as the last one fell.

"When I went back into the apartment, she wasn't lying on the bed anymore. She'd gotten up and started to wander the apartment, slowly. I found her in the kitchen. She looked at me with those dead eyes and started stumbling toward me. I kept a utility hatchet handy for breaking in doors or tearing up furniture.''

"Oh God,'' Debbie said, placing a hand over her mouth.

"I was out of bullets. So I picked up the hatchet, and... and I...'' Simon's voice broke off.

"Simon,'' Debbie said. "I'm so sorry.''

"And do you know the worst part?'' Simon said. "It wasn't two weeks later they pumped the cure into those clouds. Every revenant, cured. If I'd known there was a cure... If I'd just waited...''

"Simon, you did what you thought you had to,'' Debbie said.

"Yeah,'' Simon said, "I'm not sure that's the best way to break it to John. That's the real reason I haven't tried to go back, to see if they're still there. If he is alive, it'd kill him to know what I did. How do you even tell someone that?'' Tears ran down Simon's face.

"That's why you're so jumpy all the time,'' Debbie said.

"I haven't told this to anyone,'' Simon said. "Not the church group, not a pastor, not to God Himself. I thought it would fade in time, but it hasn't. Every night I see her.'' Simon looked toward the bushes. "Even when I'm awake, sometimes... I can still see her.''

Debbie reached out and held Simon's hand.

---

"Governor's Island??'' Winston said. "You. Simon Stone. You had dinner on Governor's Island?''

"It's not that incredible,'' Simon said. "We met a professor named Milton Burke. He invited us out.''

"Well, I've never heard of this Burke, but if he lives on the island he must have some serious pull,'' Winston said. "You're gonna be famous.''

"Ha. The mathematician you've never heard of is going to make the paper pusher famous,'' Simon said.

"I'm telling you, man, you just wait,'' Winston said. "You'll be meeting people on the Council, eating steak, telling them your opinions about the political system.''

"I don't have any opinions about the political system,'' Simon said.

"You will once you meet some politicians,'' Winston said. "I know something about this stuff.''

"Winston, you're a paperwork grunt just like me,'' Simon said.

"Let's just say I haven't always been a paperwork grunt, OK?'' Winston said.

The office mailboy walked by, leaving an envelope on top of a stack of files on Simon's desk. As Simon picked up the envelope, the precarious stack crashed to the floor.

"It's from Milton,'' Simon said. "He wants me and Debbie to come to dinner again on Friday night.''

"See?'' Winston said.

"It says Councilman Franklin Abraham will be there,'' Simon said.

"Are you serious???'' Winston said. Simon showed him the letter. "You're gonna be famous. That's all there is to it. Famous.''

"You know, you could probably come along too,'' Simon said. "Give you a chance to meet some politicians of your own.''

"Thanks, Simon,'' Winston said, "but I have to pass. I tried on that sombrero once. Didn't fit.''

---

"Debbie, Simon, this is Councilman Franklin Abraham,'' Milton said as the four of them sat down to dinner. The firepit flickered warmly.

"Nice to meet you both. Please call me Franklin,'' the Councilman said. "Milton tells me you're brilliant musicians.''

"We enjoy playing, at least,'' Debbie said.

"Well, perhaps you can play something for us after supper,'' the Councilman said. "We don't get nearly enough music on the Island here.''

They began to eat their dinner, which consisted of grilled steak and baked potatoes. "Sorry there are no fresh greens,'' Milton said, "but some things are so rationed even the government can't get a hold of it.''

"So Franklin, I hear you are trying to elect a president?'' Debbie said.

"Yes we are,'' the Councilman said. "A strong executive is vital to continuing the reconstruction process through the harsh months ahead. We need someone with the authority and vision to make quick decisions should cities need assistance due to harsh weather or disease.''

"You don't feel the Council of Mayors is capable of handling it?'' Debbie asked.

"Well, don't get me wrong, I believe in the council. But if taking over for Councilman Douglass on the Collaborations Committee has taught me anything, it's that councils can't do everything, and they can't do anything quickly,'' the Councilman said. "It seems like it's taking forever just to decide where to go looking for surviving cities.''

"I've wondered about that,'' Simon said. "It seems like we could have just sent an few airships to canvas the whole country by now.''

"To be fair to the Council, it is a bit more complex than that,'' Milton said. "We have plenty of helium, but fuel and equipment are still at a premium, so we need to optimize while looking for survivors.''

"Milton has been developing a grid algorithm to find the most likely locations of survivors,'' the Councilman explained. "Deborah?''

"It's Debbie,'' she said.

"Right, Debbie. You work for a church, yes?'' the Councilman said.

"Yes,'' Debbie said.

"I'd love to hear how the religious constituency in Manhattan is doing,'' the Councilman said.

"Well, I couldn't tell you much about the 'religious constituency,' but the Christians seem to be holding up well,'' Debbie said.

Milton chuckled. "Councilman, I'm afraid you've failed to make a distinction that is very important to many Christians. They do not consider themselves to be religious in the broad sense, all indicators to the contrary.''

"Well, Milton, that's a bit unfair,'' Simon said. "Over-generalizing and stereotyping are problems that have been recognized for many people groups, and there's no good reason why Christians should be any different. For instance, it would hardly be appropriate to lump orthodox Christianity into either the polytheistic or monotheistic categories, since the God we believe in is one God, but three persons. The simultaneous presence of unity and diversity in the Christian God makes Him importantly different from other religions. So it seems like you should be more familiar with what we actually teach and believe before you make a caricature of us.''

"That... is true,'' Milton said.

"Well said, Simon,'' the Councilman said. "I've been looking for a man who can keep up with Milton intellectually but show a little more diplomatic perspective.''

"I'm sorry, are you offering me a job?'' Simon said.

"You'd take a job with the council?'' Debbie said.

The Councilman raised an eyebrow toward Debbie. "It's not personal, Franklin,'' Debbie said, "I'm just naturally wary of government. They have a history of questionable practices.''

"You mean like turning half the country into zombies?'' the Councilman said. Simon visibly stiffened.

"Yes. Without warning, without notice that things were 'under control,' and keeping the cure a secret until they released it,'' Debbie said. "Like that.''

"On one level you're quite right,'' the Councilman said. "It was government, of a sort, that created the nightmare of that year. It wasn't meant to be like that. The Revenant Reagent? It was being developed as a way to take injured soldiers or cancer patients or anyone else with a fatal wound and place them in suspended animation, all while accelerating the ability of the body to heal. That's why it didn't activate until those exposed were on the brink of death. The zombie-like state was a side effect that was still being ironed out. The research wasn't finished.

"But as for the government releasing it, that wasn't our decision. There was one Senator who happened to be active in the development of the project. Through manipulation of the CDC, FEMA, and the Department of Agriculture, he managed to get the reagent released into the atmosphere. It never should have happened, but it was the lack of proper government involvement that led to that decision.''

"Now, let us not forget,'' Milton said, "that it turned out to be a very good thing for the population in general. The reagent was the only reason so many were able to survive the ghouls.''

"That's true, Milton, but that doesn't excuse the Senator for going around the government in secret,'' the Councilman said.

"I thought you said that a strong executive was vital?'' Simon asked. The Councilman looked at him darkly.

"Which Senator was it, if I may ask?'' Debbie said.

"My predecessor,'' the Councilman said. "Fred Douglass.'' Simon and Debbie looked at him slack-jawed. "It's never as simple as it ought to be, is it? But that's enough of that. Those days are over now, and I'm in the mood for a song.''

"I left my Cello in my other jacket,'' Debbie said.

Simon picked up his guitar and began to play gently.

♫They painted up your secrets

With the lies they told to you

And the least they ever gave you

Was the most you ever knew

♫And I wonder where these dreams go

When the world gets in your way

What's the point in all this screaming?

No one's listening anyway

♫Your voice is small and fading

And you hide in here unknown

And your mother loves your father

'Cause she's got nowhere to go

♫And she wonders where these dreams go

'Cause the world got in her way

What's the point in ever trying?

Nothing's changing anyway

♫They press their lips against you

And you love the lies they say

And I tried so hard to reach you

But you're falling anyway

♫And you know I see right through you

'Cause the world gets in your way

What's the point in all this screaming?

You're not listening anyway♫

"Beautiful, thank you,'' the Councilman said. "Simon, Debbie, I'd like to get to the real reason I asked to meet you here.''

"You asked to meet us?'' Simon said.

"We thought Milton...'' Debbie said.

"I'm sure he would have invited you anyway, but this evening I requested you,'' the Councilman said. "I want to offer you both jobs. I've given Milton here a new assignment. We believe there may be a surviving community in the middle of West Virginia, Greenfield. Milton is going to lead a team out there to meet them and bring ambassadors. I'd like you both to go along. It's not complicated work, but...''

"I'll do it,'' Simon said.

"What?'' Debbie said.

"If John's alive, I have to find him,'' Simon said.

"Then our purposes are in agreement,'' the Councilman said. "Deb?''

"It's Debbie,'' Debbie said. "Yes. I'll go.''

"Excellent,'' Milton said. "We leave tomorrow evening. It will be an adventure on the American frontier!''

"Yes it will,'' Debbie said.

"Yeah,'' Simon said.

"I've never had a real adventure,'' Milton said. "I hope this is a good one.''

---

Don't miss next month's episode, Life Is Old There.
Check out this episode's songs:

Walking in Memphis by Marc Cohn
All the Pretty Little Horses (Traditional) arranged by Mark Snow
Acoustic #3 by the Goo Goo Dolls