This is definitely the cultists. In times when everything is falling apart, faith sometimes takes on a completely different meaning. Righteous thoughts become fanatical, and actions cross every boundary. Those who guide people and force them to obey a single word lead them into the abyss, feeding on their own despair.
Faith is something that can save a person even in the hardest times. But it can also destroy them if it clouds all reason.
A sharp pain in the back of my head made me bend and collapse to my knees. The throbbing pain spread to my temples, not allowing me to think clearly. My body stopped obeying, and I fell flat onto the ground, unable even to try to get up.
"Aw… aw," Buddy's bark sounded nearby, muffled, anxious.
Breathe. I need to breathe.
Inhale exhale.
With my right hand I pulled out the filter with the higher concentration, it slipped from my fingers and fell near my face. With a trembling hand I began unscrewing the old one. In one breath I installed the new one and immediately took a deep inhale, feeling the air burn my lungs.
I lay there face down in the dirt for I don't know how long. Gradually I began to feel the nerves in my body twitch, returning to life. Sensation slowly came back to normal. My vision cleared, my hearing again began to distinguish sounds clearly, and I heard Buddy's whimpering nearby.
The attack was unexpected. The last time it had been this severe was a year ago. Time is slipping through my fingers. I need weapons. At any cost. With them I will be able to gather people and not die on the road west.
Raising my left arm, which felt foreign, I pulled back my sleeve and looked at my watch.
"I lay here for almost an hour."
It was already getting seriously dark. I had lost too much time. It was good that I had collapsed not in the open but in the grass, where I was not so easy to spot. Picking up the filter with ten percent concentration of copper and silver, I ran my finger across it, my salvation and my death. Tossing it aside, I exhaled heavily, now I need to use the twenty percent one.
I knew that over time I would have to increase the dosage. The one that used to work on me is now useless. This thing was slowly poisoning my lungs, give it a few more years and I would cough them out.
Returning to the garage, I noticed only tracks on the road. My vehicle was nowhere to be seen.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered.
The attack could not have happened at a worse time. Though it could have hit during a fight, and then I would definitely be dead. All that remained was to thank luck that it happened now and not when enemies were nearby. At least I did not attract the infected. I had a theory that during an attack, when the fungus takes over the body, it sends signals to the infected and they consider me one of their own. I had no desire whatsoever to test that theory in practice.
Buddy had already found my vehicle more than once. He would find it again now.
***********************
The pastor was kneeling before the cross. His posture was humble, his head slightly lowered. His hands were folded in prayer, his lips barely moving as they whispered the words. His torso was bare, and his skin was covered with religious tattoos intertwined with symbols of faith and suffering. Finishing the prayer, he rose and kissed the old church cross.
"We will lead a righteous campaign against the heretic and destroy all his devilish thoughts," he said, now much more harshly.
The people around him stirred. One by one they rose from their knees, and soon the pastor's words were drowned out by shouts of approval.
"Calm yourselves, my children. We must prepare," he said, heading for the exit.
Throwing the doors open, he stepped forward and surveyed the camp. Fires were burning below. People were preparing weapons, loading magazines with ammunition, cleaning barrels, checking vehicles. The promised land in this rotten world. The stone church had become their salvation from fire and death.
Once, persecuted by the servants of the devil, he had been helpless and weak. In despair he turned to God. To the One who, as he believed, heard his pleas, led him to the church and saved his life. That was when he began to hear the voice that guided him, and he believed, having seen the truth.
He became an instrument of righteous wrath, faith gave him strength and showed him the path. Turning against filth and uncleanliness in order to cleanse the land. But not everyone was ready to heed the word of God. And then he was forced to act harshly. Against heretics only one remedy helps pain and holy fire.
"Pastor," one of the believers approached him.
"Yes, my son, I am listening," Joseph said without raising his eyes.
"Our people have been killed," the man said angrily and restrained.
"Then he did not heed the voice of reason. We will make him answer for his sins," Joseph said calmly.
"No. It was not him. We saw two men, about thirty to forty years old. They were armed and acted brutally. They killed everyone who stood in their way. They were in a vehicle. We managed to disable it, but they managed to escape," the believer finished.
"Trials have been cast upon us," Joseph said harshly. "Today no one dares to defile our church. Brothers and sisters, gather your faith and direct your righteous wrath upon the wicked."
His loud words swept through the camp. In the people's eyes the words found their response, igniting fires not warm ones, but fanatical, dangerous, the kind that know no doubt.
**************************
How much I had already blamed myself for not doing what I should have this time. I thought that going around and checking would not take much time, and I did not even go far, but I was unlucky. It only takes one mistake, and life rarely forgives you for anything.
Buddy did manage to pick up the trail of my vehicle. Judging by the path taken, those who stole my truck were heading toward Pittsburgh. There was nowhere else to go, truth be told. They do not belong to the Cultists?
I had to cover almost twenty kilometers at a light run before I finally managed to catch up with them. Traveling by vehicle at night was dangerous. Headlights would immediately give you away, and driving without them was deadly, you could run into danger anywhere. Ambushes were almost everywhere here. That is why I was sure they had stopped for the night.
The filters were in my truck, as were all my resources. I did not really have a choice whether to go after it or not.
The thief who stole the vehicle had stopped at one of the last houses on the outskirts. I noticed several dead infected, and then my vehicle through a small garage window. Darkness had already completely swallowed the sky, and seeing anything clearly was not easy.
I chose a blind spot from which I could approach, circling the settlement and moving through the houses, watching how the dog reacted. There was no one else nearby.
Reaching the house, I slowly cracked open the window and slipped inside with a smooth motion. There was not a single source of light inside. Dense darkness everywhere. Raising my rifle, I watched the surroundings, listening to every rustle, and stopped before the passage into another room. The step I was about to take hung in the air.
Stepping back, I began to pull out a flashbang. The rustle of clothing and the light clink of metal sharply cut through the silence.
"Arr!" a man jumped out at me from around the corner, holding a knife.
I took the blow on the rifle, twisted the knife aside and drove my elbow into the attacker's face. Behind him I noticed a second man in the moonlight the barrel of a weapon flashed. I sharply moved to the side.
Shot
A flash of light drowned in the darkness, the bullet passed close by.
I tried to fire back and the man who had attacked me earlier grabbed my rifle.
"Buddy," I shouted.
"Arf-arf!" he burst through the window opening at full speed, clamping his jaws onto the shooter's arm.
"Bitch!" the man growled as his arm ended up in the dog's mouth, teeth tearing into flesh.
I kicked my opponent in the knee, knocking his support out from under him. He staggered, and I finished him with a punch to the face, sending him to the ground. I aimed the rifle at him and almost fired.
"Stop, or your mutt dies," his revolver was pressed against the dog's head.
He could have tried to shoot me, but being mauled by fangs, he could not act deliberately.
"Tch…"
Buddy released his arm and backed off slightly, continuing to growl. I watched the two of them carefully with quick glances. With a bloody arm the shooter stood up and aimed at me.
"You stole my vehicle. If you leave now, I won't shoot," I said. If a dialogue has started, why not try.
"We had no choice, some crazy people were chasing us," replied the one lying on the floor.
"But you took what wasn't yours, and I am ready to lay down my life for what is in that vehicle," I said.
"We need transport to get away," the one with the gun spoke up.
"Not my problem," I replied.
I noticed that Buddy, who had been growling, suddenly froze, his ears sharply pricked. Casting a quick glance at the window, I saw headlights. Just my luck, damn it, for everything to line up like this. Looks like their guests had come for them.