Family Ties

"You are so tempting," the dark man said with a smile. Yolanda Granton shuddered at the words. She'd been walking down a highway full of crosses, the people hanging off of them leering at her as she realized that she was headed too far west and that she'd missed Mother Abigail somehow in this dream. Turning to head away from the gruesome scene of the highway, she'd started running back and ran into this demon that tormented her dreams lately.

"If only you weren't quite so dark, darling... I could see us having some real fun together. Come to think of it, you could be my concubine. That's the way they did it in the old days."

"Stay away from me," she whimpered, hating that she sounded so weak and scared. She was a soldier in the Lord's army, damnit! She should be commanding the demon away from her, not shaking in her boots like this.

"Stay away from the old woman, little girl," Randell Flagg smiled at her brightly. Surveying her smooth, honey-golden skin again. "I may just have use for you."

She began to sing timidly in response.

I may never march in the infantry

Ride in the cavalry

Shoot in the artillery.

I may never fly over the enemy

But I'm in the Lord's army

He lost his smile and began to lose his human appearance.

"Shut up you bitch!" he yelled angrily. Landi jerked awake.

The sounds of rioting, looting, and shooting had slowed in the past few days as people slunk off to die in their little hideyholes. Her last close blood relation, her youngest brother, was coughing in the next room. He'd helped the twenty-four-year-old nurse care for and bury all of the rest of their family in the backyard. Mother, father, and three brothers. There was no way that she was driving their bodies downtown where the highest concentration of rioters and rapists resided. No, better to give them some dignity and peace in their ancestral home.

"Hey, Matthew, you dead yet?" she called her sixteen-year-old brother jokingly. He'd held on the longest, likely because she'd promised to bury him right next to the big pile of dogshit they'd piled up when their mom had died five days ago. Darlene Granton had been the heart of the family; her death had taken the heart out of all of them and made this pandemic very, very real for them all. Landi had gotten sick for a while after Charles, her oldest brother, died. She'd thought that she would end up being buried next to him for a few days. But then she'd gotten better. Her father was next after Charles. Corey, the middle child, had succumbed to the virus right after her mother. Victor had moved back into their home in time to pass after her dad. It happened so damn quick! Five days ago they'd been a family. Now it was only the second oldest - her- and the youngest to carry on the family name. None of the Granton children had gotten around to that whole 'be fruitful and multiply' thing, so there were no children in the home to worry about.

"Matthew?"

"You wish I'd died," a wheezing voice called, followed by a string of hard coughs. Landi breathed in relief and headed towards the noise. Her little brother was sprawled on the bed, the covers were thrown off from his feverish thrashing in the night. For all of their sibling banter, the girl's hands were gentle as she tucked her little brother in. Of all her brothers, he was her favorite. He had the most in common with her; they shared a love of singing, movies, and writing. "Carry me downstairs. I don't wanna die in this room."

"You're not gonna die, you big baby," she fired back at him. "You're gonna get better, just like I did. Then we're gonna work on getting out of this city. We-"

"Cut the crap," the teen sneezed. "I think what you had was a regular cold. You were sick for a while, but then you recovered. I've got what Mom had. I'll probably pass some time today and then you'll bury me with our family and get out of this city on your own." There was too much knowledge in his dark brown eyes to be born. Where was the lightness, the arrogant swagger of her little brother? The superflu had taken it away, that and the burials of too many family members in too short of a time. Five days ago her little brother had been as arrogant and untouchable as any sixteen-year-old. Now he looked like he was going on thirty. It hurt her deeply that she couldn't protect him from the knowledge in his eyes; the knowledge that he was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. The superflu had killed the world; it had killed their world at the very least. And nothing would ever be the same again.

"I… I don't want to get out of the city on my own, man. I want you to come with me. We're going to travel to Nebraska-"

"Nebraska? Why Nebraska?" Suddenly feeling shy about sharing her dreams, she shrugged.

"Why not Nebraska? I bet there are not many people there. We could become corn farmers! It'll be fun!"

Matthew started hacking up phlegm as he laughed hysterically. "Girl, you done lost your mind! Corn farmers? You wouldn't last five minutes! Come on, let's go and watch some movies before you make me laugh to death."

"Fine!" she huffed. "But your heavy ass is gonna have to help me get you down the stairs." Since 'downstairs' was two narrow, steep flights of stairs away they ended up doing a half piggyback, half walking stroll down the stairs. Once the girl had her brother settled on the couch, she went and loaded up The Last Starfighter for them to watch.

"Man, I don't wanna watch this crap! Go put on something good, like Robocop!"

"You wanna watch something else, get your lazy ass up the stairs and change the movie! Otherwise, shut up and watch." Matthew gave her a dirty look but settled down to watch one of her favorite movies. Halfway through, the teen got bored, paused the film, and asked her to sing with him.

"What should we sing? Ooh! How about 'The Our Father'? We haven't sung that since Mom died."

Matthew stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "I swear if I didn't love you so much…" They sang the Lord's Prayer, Landi singing clearly and Matthew coughing his way through the hymn.

"Now can we sing something fun? How about 'Always'?" He was starting to fade and they both knew it.

Girl, you are to me

All that a woman should be

And I dedicate my life

To you always…

Yolanda sang through her tears, suddenly realizing that this was the last time she would sing with a member of her family.

A love like yours is great

It must have been sent from up above,

And I know you'll stay this way

For always…

They sang the interlude and chorus together.

And we both know that our love will grow

And forever it will be you and me…

Hey…

Ooh, you're like the sun

Chasing all of the rain away

And when you come around you bring brighter days

You're the perfect woman

For me and you forever will be

And I will love you so for always

Matthew barely made it to the end of the song, he was coughing and hacking so much. When the song was over, he was barely breathing.

"Come on, bro. I'll put on Robocop next if you-"

"No bribes, big sister," he gasped quietly. "Listen to me, this is important. Stay away from the Dark Man. He wants your virgin's blood. He may not be the Devil, but he is a devil."

"Matthew… Matthew, please… Don't make me do this on my own. You have to get better; you're the only one left. Remember what dad used to say? You carry on the name; I only carry the blood."

"I'm sorry, sis; the blood will have to do this time. My path is different from yours. Come on, let's finish this crappy movie. Afterward, you can say that it killed me instead of the damn virus." Landi unpaused the movie and watched it to the end of the credits, just to spite her dead brother. She'd been crying silently since he'd rasped his last breath, but she hadn't turned around or moved from her spot on the couch. As the triumphant music ended, she finally turned to the corpse.

"You never could do as you were told," she grinned at him through her tears. "All you had to do was to get better, you little twerp. Just get better like I did and come with me to Nebraska. Was that really such an overwhelming task?" She stood and went upstairs for the last of the sheets that her mother had picked out for the burial. She'd insisted that only certain sheets be used to wrap the bodies; the rest were to be left untouched. She'd figured that only six of them would get a proper burial and that the last would end up dying in the house. It seemed that Landi wasn't destined for that fate after all. She sewed her brother into the makeshift burial shroud, all the while singing his favorite songs. She even turned on Robocop, a movie she couldn't stand, and let it play in the background as she worked. She'd been sewing the shrouds for her family since Mom died. Her stitches used to be wildly uneven; Charles and Corey had laughed at how bad she was at sewing. But with the practice, she'd gotten to where her stitches were almost machine straight and even.

Matthew and she had dug two plots after Victor died, mostly to be funny. It wasn't as if the last Granton would drag themselves to the grave and bury themselves. The joke was a thin one at the time, but it was all they had to stave off the tears for two parents and three brothers buried in the space of five days. Briefly, she considered burying him next to the dog crap like she'd promised, but in the end, she put him next to his penultimate brother. She stood staring at his grave for a long time after it was filled, willing the tears, the heart-wrenching sobs to come. But there were no more tears to cry. She'd mourned each member of her family as she'd buried them. There was only peace that their suffering was over, and a vague restlessness to get to Nebraska now that her familial obligations were fulfilled. Philly to Hemingford Home; how the hell was she supposed to make that trip? She'd never been off the East Coast! But the dreams were insistent and her instincts were telling her that time was running out.

She started packing that night, too afraid of her dreamscape to risk sleeping. Her parents were hoarders; she found almost everything she needed for an extended trip to middle America among their things. She didn't have a map; she would have to get one on the way out of town. But she spent the next few days making tapes of her favorite music, drying out meat for jerky in the oven, and gathering supplies for her journey. Extra batteries for the little tape player she'd owned all her life; no place in the homestead for an outlet. Extra hair supplies for her dreads, she had started growing them years ago - they were to her waist now. Extra clothes for her heavy-set body, She was a size twenty and she doubted there were extra large clothes everywhere for her. And a canteen of extra water since it was so damn hot outside. She hated warm water as a rule, but she had a feeling that there was going to be a shortage of ice now that the world was dead. Against her better judgment, she included soap, and her mother's nicest fluffy towel and washcloth set. It was a long shot that she'd find a place with a working shower on the road - her shower had gone out two days ago right after Charles died - but at least she could have a wash-up from time to time in the lakes and rivers she passed.

She'd even found her old Social Studies book to figure out where exactly Nebraska was and a map to Ohio in the basement. She figured that she could likely find another map once she was en route. Finally, she packed up a couple of books for herself. She dug out her old ten speed bike and practiced riding it around her silent neighborhood until she remembered the trick of it. Finally, she packed her grandmother's large cast-iron pan for protection. It wasn't going to do her much good if the bad guys had guns, but it was protection just the same; her parents had never owned a gun. She loaded everything on the bike and once again had to learn how to balance properly. In the end, she ripped the map of America out of the Social Studies book (her mom would kill her for that) and left behind all but her favorite books to make room for the essentials. A wallet-sized picture of the family she'd lost would serve as her bookmark. Thinking about the bad guys that she might attract to her campsite at night with her loud music, she snagged her big brother's headphones and a fluffy blanket for the cold nights. And finally, the piece de resistance: matches to start a fire, a flashlight to see in the dark, and her Polaroid camera with about ten rolls of film for her other hobby, picture taking. She wasn't sure how much she would be able to indulge that particular hobby, but better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.

The Lord's Army

Atlantic Starr - Always

See you next chapter!