World Memorial Read Free

bitch to fit on the name tags."
    Either Brother Joel didn't hear or he ignored him. "The flock and I are out searching."
    "Hope it's not for a trailer." Park didn't move but kept his mind very much on the rifle propped next to him.
    "Oh no, sir, no," said Brother Joel, chuckling. "We have no interest in your property. We have a wonderful church home a few miles from here. We are out searching for lost lambs. Babes in the woods, if you would, sir. Quite literally. Sister Elizabeth?"
    Sister Elizabeth stepped up behind Brother Joel, handing him a small stack of papers. The papers were worn and wrinkled. Park saw pencil marks on them.
    "These children, specifically," said Brother Joel. He handed the papers to Park. Park took them, again wishing he had gloves. The cold stung his hands.
    The wind picked up. Everyone grew still, looking anxiously around at the trees. Park looked at the chains along his walls. He'd used the thickest he could find, running them from the trailer down to roots or anything sturdy. Back before the snow had come.
    "Brother Joel..." said Sister Elizabeth.
    "Be still," said Brother Joel. "The Lord wouldn't lead us out here to be caught in a windstorm."
    "Hope you're right about that, buddy," said Park, watching the trees. They shook and creaked, their branches swaying back and forth. The storms were bad sometimes. When he'd been in Ashton with Angie Land and her kids, the rains had started. They’d lasted for over a year, soaking the ground and making the walking corpses stink. Then the rains stopped and the winds began. Violent, shaking winds, especially bad now that snow covered everything.
    The wind subsided. Everyone looked relieved. Except for Brother Joel. He'd never looked nervous to begin with.
    "See?" he said to Sister Elizabeth. "Have faith."
    "Yes, Brother Joel," said Sister Elizabeth. She looked embarrassed and stepped back to stand behind another woman with blonde hair and a severe black dress.
    Park snorted and looked down at the papers Brother Joel had given him. He thumbed through the first few. They were drawings, sketches in pencil of various children.
    "These the kids you were jabbering about earlier?" said Park.
    "Indeed they are, sir," said Brother Joel.
    "Well, not to tell you your stupid-ass business, but maybe you could have held onto them when you were drawing these pictures."
    Brother Joel chuckled. Park wanted to punch him. "We haven't seen these poor lost lambs in the flesh, sir. They came to Sister Elizabeth in a vision. She's a prophet."
    "How nice for her." Park thumbed through more sketches. One sent a jolt through him, but he gave no sign.
    "Indeed it is, sir," said Brother Joel. "He blessed her and sent her a vision to help us find these lost little ones."
    Park looked through the rest as quickly as he could. He knew one of those children. One that was long dead. He wasn't sure why the crazy asshole had a sketch of a dead boy, but Park didn't like it. As he finished looking over the last sketch, Park's eyes glanced over Brother Joel. On the man's otherwise pristine hands, there was a tiny dark smudge along the cuticle of his left thumb. It was dark red, like dried blood.
    "Not that I hate to disappoint you," said Park, handing the sketches back, "but I've never seen any of your cartoon kids."
    "Ah well," said Brother Joel, taking the sketches back without losing his grin. "It was worth a try. Thank you for your time, good sir. Have a blessed day."
    "You know it," said Park, leaning against the door frame as Brother Joel walked back down the metal steps. Park gave the flock his best don't-give-a-shit look. Why did they have a picture of one of Angie Land's kids? A kid Park knew to be dead? He'd seen the kid dying of a corpse bite. You didn't come back from those.
    Park's thumb hurt something fierce. He watched the flock follow Brother Joel away from his trailer. He resolved to wait a few more minutes, to make sure the weirdoes were well out of sight before he went back