Chapter 8
Father Santiago tried to ignore the cries of the people outside the Parish. Beating on the barricaded doors you could hear their screams of terror, their screams of pain. You could always the screams. You could hear the creatures out there as well though. Guttural cries and screeches of horror, Father Santiago could still see their gaping maws and blackened claws when he closed his eyes. What was worse were the moments of quiet though, where you could hear the wet smack of the monsters consuming the flesh of the dead. Father Enrico tried to block the images from his mind, images that haunted him. He could still see his brothers being ripped apart by those monsters. He could still picture the horrors he had seen as he ran back to the Parish, the dead brought to life and consuming the living, Revelation.
"Father Santiago......Enrico, we must do something for the people outside. The screams, the people NEED us now! We must help them and trust in the Lord God to protect us."
Santiago lowered his head slowly and shook it sadly. Brother Ruiz meant well, he was probably even right, but he no longer knew anymore. What he had seen made him wonder. If those creatures could so easily kill his Brothers, what would that mean to the people here in this mission? What would that mean to him. IF Hell had truly come to Earth, Enrico Santiago was not about to go quietly.
"My son, I feel your pain. I feel ALL of your pain. But you have seen what lies outside, looking at these horrors from the bell tower. They are not human, and should we open the doors to help these people, they would over run us as well. We can only do God's will if we are alive to spread his word. I know it's hard, I know you want to ease our flock's suffering, but we must trust in God to protect us, and trust in God to take our friends to a better place than the Hell that awaits beyond the walls."
He looked at Brother Ruiz, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispered to him to take Brother Romero and the help and lead them in a prayer. Ruiz nodded, tears streaming down his face and drew the other three into a circle. Enrico then hastened up the stairs, towards his room and the bell tower. After they had barricaded the doors and simple windows of the church, they had all gone to the tower to witness the creatures first hand. It had been hard for them all, but Enrico has assured them that the best path lay in protecting themselves. It had taken all of his will and perseverance to keep them from opening the doors, each time the cries of mothers and their children reached the doors, or when hearing the cries of the young as their flesh was ripped.
Enrico opened the door to his room, a simple affair. The mission was a plain stucco structure, two stories and a cellar, with a spiraling staircase that lead to the top of the Bell tower. The main floor was dedicated to the church containing the alter, the second floor was the living quarters for the small group. Enrico's room was much like the others, mostly bare. He had a simple straw mat to sleep on and a stand with a bowl and pitcher for washing. He also had a small chest, to which he approached now. He opened the lid and removed his spare robes, leaving it empty. Enrico pried his fingers into the lower interior corner of the chest, working at it until he finally managed to pry the false bottom up. It lay there exactly as he had left it all those years ago, his pistol. He gently removed it from it's hiding place, holding it to catch the meager light in the room. No, Father Enrico Santiago was not about to go quietly at all.
End of Line.
Gerrad!
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