With the chat over coffee with Jules over, Becky and Cameron were taken to the police station and thrown in the same cell. For the next fifteen minutes they relentlessly rattled the cages, demanding to be let out.
"It's not gonna work," said the man in the cell next to theirs. The man was unkempt and flabby, as if he was over weight once but lost a lot of fat recently. "I've been stuck in here for months."
"Why so long?" Becky asked fearfully.
"Cause I play by my own rules," he answered hoarsely. "Dammit, if it wasn't for those fucks from that pissant town I'd be living the good life."
Cameron and Becky exchanged looks. "What do you mean?" he asked.
The man spit on the floor. "Those bastards. We killed a few of their people, and they respond by wiping out all of mine. I at least had the sense to boogy before they finished us off."
"Monroe?" asked Becky.
He looked up at them in surprise. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
Stupid, ain't he? Cameron thought. "Because," he explained, smirking at him, "I killed at least eight of your buddies back there."
Becky whistled. "Wow, you never told me that. I was only able to do in three."
"That was you?" the bandit raged.
"It was you retards that provoked us in the first place," Cameron told him harshly. "You don't fuck with Yuba and get away with it."
"Well now we're in the same boat, ain't we?" he said menacingly. "Neither of you are getting outta here alive."
"Like I said," Cameron told him with false confidence now. "You don't fuck with Yuba and get away with it. We'll be outta here soon."
"I don't think so, friend." Randy walked up to their cage, and tipped his hat up to get a clear look at them. "Look, this place is locked down tight. Your best bet is to play nice, and maybe we'll assign you some proper housing."
"You can stick that proper housing up your—"
Becky squeezed Cameron's shoulder tightly, and shook her head.
"Listen to her," the jailer said wisely. "You might actually make it in here."
"You're not going along with this, are you?" Cameron asked in surprise, when the bastard was out of earshot.
She shook her head again. "No, but for now he's right. We need to play nice. Obey all the rules…. For now."
With that Cameron and Becky kept their mouths shut for the rest of the day.
The next morning they were abruptly woken up. Randy passed his nightstick back and forth over the bars to make a loud noise. "Wake up," he said, still making a racket. "It's time for mass."
"It's not even Sunday," Cameron said blearily, rubbing his eyes.
"We do this everyday," he explained. "Now let's go. I'm taking you to the nearest house so that you can get washed up."
"Have fun," said the bandit, as Cameron and Becky were led away at gunpoint.
Outside Cameron saw what looked like happy, normal families, all spruced up in their church clothes. The lettering on the building they were being held in told them that they were being held the Gibbons Police Station. So, it was probably safe to assume that the town they were being held in a town named Gibbons. Well that's one thing out of the way, now all they had to figure out was how to get a message to Yuba.
Cameron showered and shaved. When he got out of the bathroom he found freshly pressed church clothes lying on the bed. Reluctantly he put them on, finding that the collar was tight around the neck, the pants were itchier than hell, and the shoes were too damn small. Outside the room he saw Becky waiting for him in a floral pattern sundress.
He couldn't help but smile. Cameron had never seen Becky wear something like that before. Had he had it his way, they would be alone in a room that very moment. Sadly that wasn't the case.
"Let's get moving," Randy ordered.
Expecting to head for the church, Cameron was surprised to see they were headed to the local school's gymnasium. There a few hundred chairs were set up, all facing a podium with speakers on either side and a large wooden Cross behind it. Every one of those chairs was filling up fast, and Cameron and Becky were being led to the very front row.
Not far off he spotted Jules sitting with her "husband". They briefly nodded at each other and looked away.
Once seated, everybody just ended up standing right back up as Father Donnelly's procession went up the middle aisle. The opening of the mass was just like any other. It may have been quite a few years since Cameron attended church, but recognized most of the things they did. The opening words were spoken, and the congregation followed along. All of it seemed perfectly normal.
"Some of you may notice that we have some newcomers with us today," Donnelly began, gesturing towards Cameron and Becky. The congregation turned their heads towards them, all whispering. "They were brought to us by God so that we can take part in their spiritual cleansing. Unfortunately they are resistant to this, and want to go back where they came from so they can continue their sinful ways. Most of you must have heard from Francine what happens there."
The congregation was all over his shit, like flies on a horse's ass.
"Well, I am confident that they will see the light of God," he said with a smile. "Cameron and Rebecca will find what a good and Godly place this is. We have done a great thing here. No longer are we divided among such trivial division between Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, Baptists, and so on. I am the messenger of God, and I have united all of us under the banner of Christ!"
That may sound all well and good, but from the way Cameron noticed the congregation looking at him adoringly, Donnelly just seemed like your run of the mill cult leader. Instead of feeling anger or resentment, all he started feeling now was pity. He was convinced that Donnelly just used everybody's fear of the outbreak to become some kind of omnipotent savior.
Now Cameron had absolutely no problem with Christians. He had many good friends back in Yuba that were faithful. But in his eyes there was a fine line between faith and ignorance. And all these people's fears made them ignorant.
Still, Cameron had to give him credit. The bastard sure did know how to get people organized to survive a zombie apocalypse.
The rest of the mass went on just like any other. Scripture was read, songs were sung, there was the usual bread and wine, but then Father Donnelly became grimmer. What for? Surely mass was almost over.
"We've had another person break three Commandments," he announced somberly. "Bring forward Henry Clayton." Cameron witnessed as two people dragged a man to the podium, under which Donnelly produced a poker with the sign of the Cross burning red hot at the end. "Henry here had the poor judgment of taking more than was given to him from the food supply."
"My children were hungry!" Clayton pleaded, struggling. "Please, this man eats more than the rest of us! I only wanted my fair share for my family's sake!"
"Stealing is still stealing," Donnelly declared, turning the man's face so the right cheek was face towards him. What happened next wanted to make Cameron run up and tackle the Father to the ground.
Donnelly raised the red hot cross, and planted it against Clayton's cheek. Clayton let out an agonizing scream as the poker seared into his flesh, causing an awful sizzling sound. After a while the Father removed the poker, and Clayton crumpled to the ground, grasping his burnt cheek in pain. Cameron's fists clenched in anger, and Becky put her hand over his to calm him down. There was nothing they could do.
After the mass ended, Cameron and Becky were taken to the church. Cameron was then tossed into one of the confession booths, and a few minutes later Donnelly was on the other side of the screen.
What else could he do? "Forgive me Father for I have sinned," Cameron began, trying to sound as sincere as possible.
An hour later, after Becky had her shot at the confession booth, the two of them changed back into their normal clothes, and were thrown back into their cell.
"So how was it?" the bandit asked, smiling menacingly. "It seemed all hunky dory at first, right? But then they brought out some poor bastard that got branded. Not only that, I saw outside my window as that same guy was crucified."
They ignored him. "The computer Jules was talking about," Becky said to Cameron, speaking to him for the first time all day. "It's across the hall."
"Think it has Internet access?" he asked her.
"Should we ask her?"
Cameron shook his head. "Either way, it's our only chance. I'll give you a shot tomorrow."
"How?"
"You'll see."
The next day it was the same thing over again. And when it came time to get back in the cell, Cameron placed his lips to over Becky's ears to whisper, "Get ready."
"Get inside," Randy ordered told Cameron, who stopped just before entering the cell.
Cameron turned to face him defiantly, his face set.
"I said get inside!" he ordered again, poking his pistol into Cameron's gut.
His heart was beating rapidly. One wrong move and it was all over for Cameron. Still, he couldn't back off now. They had to go home, he had to help his old friend. Cameron moved as if he was going to turn around and go into the cell…instead when he noticed the gun ever so slightly move away, he struck.
With his left hand, he grabbed Randy's right with the gun, and with the other Cameron pulled him in so he could head butt him. Despite being slightly fazed, he immediately clenched his right fist and punched him across the jaw. Pressing his advantage, Cameron floored Randy, causing the gun to come loose, and he proceeded to throw punch after punch. His knuckles were becoming bloody and bruised, but he didn't stop.
"Run and don't look back!" he told Becky, who dashed out of the room into the hallway.
He was about to throw another punch, but Randy managed to move his head, making Cameron punch the concrete floor instead. While involuntarily trying to shake the pain away, Randy got the best of Cameron and attempted to knee him in the groin.
Cameron tried closing his legs, but enough got through to cause him to recoil in pain. The bastard flipped him over, so that he was now on top and began to strangle Cameron. Desperately, he tried to dig the fingers out of his throat, but it was to no avail. Cameron was loosing oxygen quickly as he tried bucking the bastard off.
"I NEED HE—!" Randy was cut off as Cameron quickly stuck his palm between his teeth to shut the bastard up. Help from outside couldn't come—not yet. Becky needed to have enough time to send that e-mail. But the jailer started to bite down hard, drawing blood. Then, he removed one hand from Cameron's throat and began reaching for his gun.
Cameron couldn't let that happen either. With his free hand he started reaching for the gun too. The both of them were able to just barely touch it, desperately trying to get their fingers wrapped around it. And Cameron was loosing air fast. Reach for it, he told himself. Fucking reach for it!
Cameron won. Gripping the handle tightly, Cameron quickly swung it and landed a hit along the bastard's temple with the butt of the gun. The grip went slack, Randy lost composure, and Cameron turned things around so that he was on top again. He groaned, so Cameron struck him with the gun again, effectively knocking him unconscious.
Looking at his bleeding hand, he sighed. Again? Cameron asked himself.