Dear Reader

I wanted to spend some time thinking about how an organization like a church, particularly a megachurch like we have here in Modesto, CA (The House), might respond to a collapsed government and wide-spread pandezombium (that's like pandemonium with zombies, or something).

I like parts of the work, including the conclusion, but I don't really have much by way of the middle. What should come in the middle? Any ideas?

Extremely long descriptions of faces being eaten off? A love story between rival sects/factions? A confectioner who spends his energy making candy to keep up people's morale? You can tell I'm reaching, which is why I need your help!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy at least some of this--Read the beginning here.

The House of the Bloody Hand (Part 2)

We called him pastor bronze because he looked like he was dipped in it all year round, even after the tanning salons closed. Justy smiley and chiseled, and believable enough to organize the group, which started at 3000 members. Of course, not all of the members survived, and of those that survived, many fled. They weren’t spared a second time, no matter how much zombie blood they rubbed on their doorposts. But the faithful stayed and pastor Bronze was ready to gather them all up like a hen gathers her chicks.

The messages, ranging from ammo production and clothing customization to eternal salvation from the Z-virus, were always followed by a call to repentance and the chance of selection by the hand. Not everyone responds to these calls, but some of the newcomers inevitably do--the ones that stand out, who move differently, are dressed differently, shambling about like the dead, wandering and waiting for… something, anything to get them through this living hell.

I want you to imagine yourself in the audience after the turn. You have, by grace or chance, survived. You find other survivors in your neighborhood, and they tell you about a safe place with food and supplies, ushers armed like Blackwater contractors. They offer food and supplies, eventually weapons training. Tithes are required, of course, a tenth of your first fruits, from munitions to mangos. By now, you have at least seen the dead walking among the living. And so you attend an event. Pastor Bronze speaks on budgeting your rations, responsibility to the House, and armor crafting from found scrap. You are moved by something--not the words, but the people together, singing, sharing in communal reflection. And so, when you are invited to the altar for repentance and potential selection, you do not hesitate. And there, in the glass, is the hand. And as the congregants gather around you, lay hands over your body, and pray, you can see the bloody hand, ensconced in a glass dome, mounted to the top of a marble pillar. It is clearly human, though the flesh is the color of bruised bananas and about as solid. You can see it move, slightly at first, but then in rapid taps on the glass, like it is reaching for you, tapping louder and louder against the dome. And suddenly, you forget about the hordes of undead walking the earth, consuming the flesh of the living. It’s just you and the hand, all the hands, against your body, warm, comforting, home. The sound of prayer and wailing, moaning. The sound of a group of people lost in reverie, one that you can share in.

Image Source: I own the rights to the image; it was a work-for-hire created for me by Lauren Ashton.