Author's Note: I didn't think I'd be updating so soon, what with finals coming up, but it helps me de-stress, so it's worth the time. I know my last chapter didn't have much action, and this one will more than make up for it. Please note that I know very little about how a human body reacts to various kinds of violence (nor to I particularly want to), so a few of the gory details might be a little unrealistic. This is the first fic I've ever posted, so review so I can know how I'm doing!
Rachel stood in the produce section of Main Street Grocery, pretending to look at apples. She remembered a fairy tale she had heard once, about a murderous child who was given the choice between an apple and a knife. He'd chosen the same way as her. No, she chided herself silently, what you are about to do is not murder. It is the will of the Lord.
They had gone over it once more in the before leaving the clearing. The grocery store would be busy on Sunday after church, with all the housewives preparing for their Sunday dinners; the only place more important was the diner, where Malachi was. Isaac would go there first, then continue to the grocery store, where he would signal Rachel. Unless, of course, the screams from the diner carried over, in which case she would begin things immediately, before the adults had a chance to run. Once the store was cleansed, the rest of the group would work their way through the town, while Rachel would head to the church and remove the trappings of the false religion. Afterwards, they would process back to the clearing.
A distant, high-pitched noise caused several shoppers to pause, straining to identify it. They must have thought it was children playing – how ironic – but Rachel couldn't take the chance that they would figure out what it really was. She glanced over at Amos, who had been re-stocking the cheeses a few feet away, and nodded slightly. He calmly put down the brick of cheddar he was holding and moved toward the door. With a simple click, it was locked.
Rachel took a deep breath, turned away from the apples, and pulled a kitchen knife from her purse.
Mrs. Honthorst, who sometimes played bridge with Rachel's mother, stared at the girl, confused.. Rachel didn't give her a chance to find out what was happening. She lifted the knife and drove it between the woman's ribs, above her left breast. Her eyes and mouth opened wide. Rachel pulled the knife away and watched Mrs. Honthorst fall to the floor, blood spurting from her open mouth and chest.
It took a few seconds for the other shoppers to recover from their shock and begin to scream; by then, it was much too late. The Children were descending on them. Rachel saw them all, slitting throats and cracking skulls. The store became a blur of red as Rachel slashed at anything over 19 that moved, drowning out their pleas for mercy with murmured repetitions of Isaac's words: Gatlin will be cleansed...It is the will of the Lord...a very special calling
Rachel pulled her knife from the back of her latest victim – a foolish old man who had honestly thought he could make it through the door – and realized that the screaming had stopped. The other Children must have noticed the same thing, for they were looking at her, waiting for the next signal. She held her bloody knife in front of her ceremoniously.
"This once unholy place had been cleansed of the Defilers," she said solemnly. "Go forth, and continue the Cleansing of Gatlin." She turned towards the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open.
Isaac stood on the other side, smiling. "Well done, my Children. The Lord is pleased with you all. Rachel, you may continue to the church. The rest of you: do not stop until every room in this town is searched, and all the impure ones destroyed."
Rachel stood inside what had been Grace Baptist Church. It was His. The whole town was. She moved slowly toward the organ.
The Lord will bless ye both for your service...
Footsteps behind her startled her out of her trance. She turned to face Malachi.
"Praise the Lord," he greeted her.
"Praise God," she responded. She looked at the blood on his clothes and realized that her own were similarly marked. "And so we have succeeded."
"Almost." He smiled, walking closer to her. "The town is not entirely cleansed yet; we must continue to search the houses. But Hansen's was cleansed. And, I presume, Main Street Grocery."
Rachel nodded, feeling herself blush – why? "Yes. The will of the Lord was done before the Unbelievers had a chance to fight back."
His smile widened. "I knew you would not fail. I trust everything will be ready for the procession?"
"Yes. I must finish cleansing the church, and I will meet you outside afterwards, as planned."
"Good. I will continue through the town, and I will gather the Children with as many sacrifices as possible to meet you." He glanced around the church, then back at her, making her squirm. Why was she reacting this way? She would certainly have to become more comfortable around him, considering the amount of time they would need to spend together. She hoped he hadn't noticed; if he did, he showed no sign. "Do you need any help cleansing the church?"
"The organ may prove difficult," she responded without thinking, then immediately wished she hadn't said it. How could he help her destroy the instrument of blasphemy if she could hardly bear having him next to her?
Again, he seemed not to notice her discomfort. "Then I will help you."
They continued toward the organ. "Isaac said we didn't have to destroy it completely, just prevent it from offending the Lord. Maybe we should start with the keys?"
He nodded. As the two of them worked side by side, Malachi close enough for Rachel to feel the heat on his skin, her nervousness faded. He and I are brother and sister in the Lord. We are called to do the work of He Who Walks Behind the Rows, and we will do just that. I will not be intimidated by his presence.
As they finished the keys and moved on to the stops, she felt brave enough to ask him a question. "I must know, Malachi: my parents...I mean...the ones who..."
"The coffee in Hansen's. I saw them drop myself." He paused his work to look her in the eye. "Would you rather have performed their sacrifice yourself?"
"No." She turned back to the stop she was pulling to avoid his eyes. "I am just glad they are gone and can no longer corrupt me."
Something inside her was scared of her answer. The Something wanted it to be a lie; it wanted Rachel to grieve for her parents and berate herself for her role in their deaths. But her response had been more or less true; she was glad that her old life was gone and her new life could begin.
The sacrifices were stacked in shopping carts, wheelbarrows, and even little red wagons. Nearly every Child carried sacrifices in this way, following Rachel towards the corn. She led them, with her back straight and the cross she had only finished carving yesterday held high. She could hear the footsteps and whispers of the Children behind her, and the rattling of wheels, and knew the Lord was pleased with her.
She had baby-sat for many of the younger Children; in fact, she remembered, it had been her influence that had persuaded many parents to allow their young sons and daughters to hear Isaac preach. Although her charges had liked her, and generally had fun when she looked after them, they also knew she could be strict when she needed to. Then, it had been trivial things: denying them a forbidden television show or an extra dessert, or demanding that they go to bed promptly at the required time. Now, she would demand that they follow the way of the Lord.
When they reached the clearing, she stopped, still holding the corn crucifix high. The Children began gathering in front of her. Finally, Malachi arrived, with Isaac behind him. The Children fell silent.
He stood at the edge of the clearing, with Malachi and Rachel on either side of him. "My Children," he began, "He Who Walks Behind the Rows has spoken to me, and he is pleased. The town of Gatlin has been cleansed of those who defile the corn. A new era begins today. Therefore, let us give thanks, and praise him."
Rachel recognized her cue and began to chant, in unison with Malachi: "Praise God! Praise the Lord!" The other Children began chanting with them. After half a minute, Isaac raised a hand to silence them.
"Now, we must show our gratitude to the Lord by presenting Him with our sacrifice. Therefore, let us lay the bodies of the Unbelievers in the corn, so that He may bless us with a bountiful harvest."
"Praise God! Praise the Lord!" They all continued chanting like this as they moved the bodies of the adults from their receptacles and onto the ground between the rows.
As he returned to the clearing to fetch another body, Malachi accidentally brushed against a girl of about five or six. The girl gasped, clearly afraid of the knife-weilding teenager. Rachel saw this and approached the girl.
"Do not fear him, Child," she said, taking the girl into her arms. "Malachi would never hurt a good Child, who obeys the will of He Who Walks Behind the Rows. And you are a good Child, aren't you?"
The girl nodded quickly, a smile on her face, and skipped off to her friends. The younger children needed to work in groups to accomplish anything. Rachel stood back up and turned to face Malachi, who was also smiling.
"You will teach them well," he said to her.
"Thank you," she said, blushing again. "You will enforce His ways well."
They spoke little the rest of the evening. There would be more time for talk later. Now, their main concern was presenting Him with their sacrifices, but Rachel's actions became almost mechanical as she contemplated the days to come.
A new society would begin.