The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror(66)

 

"Right." Theo strained again and the log moved another two inches to the right. Another foot and they'd be able to get the door open.

 

"Hurry, Theo," said Jenny Masterson. "It's — " She went into a coughing fit and couldn't finish what she was saying. Theo could hear everyone coughing inside. Wails of rage and pain were coming from the side of the chapel where Molly was fighting. She must be okay, they were still yelling about eating her brain.

 

Another lift, another two inches. Gray smoke was streaming out the crack between the doors. Theo fell to his knees with the effort and almost passed out. He shook himself back into consciousness, and as he prepared to put his back into another effort, hoping it wouldn't be his last, he noticed that the screaming had stopped at the side of the chapel. Rain, wind, the coughing of the trapped, and the crackle of the fire. That was all he heard.

 

"Oh my God. Molly!" he screamed.

 

A hand on his cheek, a voice at his ear. "Hey, sailor, need a little hand getting your church door open, if you know what I mean?"

 

 

* * *

 

Sirens sounded in the distance. Someone had seen the burning chapel through the storm and had somehow gotten through to the volunteer fire department. The Lonesome Christmas survivors were gathered in the middle of the parking lot, illuminated by headlights. The heat from the fire had driven them nearly seventy-five yards to the street.

 

Even this far away, Theo could feel the heat on his cheek from the fire as Lena Marquez bandaged his head. Others sat in the open hatchbacks of SUVs, trying to catch their breath after being exposed to the smoke, drinking bottled water or just lying there dazed.

 

Around the burning chapel the wet pine forest steamed, a great white cloud rising into the sky. Down the left side of the chapel: carnage — a rekilling ground of the undead, where Molly had hacked them into submission, even chasing down the last few in the woods and decapitating them after she and Theo had let the partyers out of the chapel.

 

Molly sat beside Theo, under the open hatchback of someone's Expedition.

 

"How did you know?" he asked. "How could you possibly have known?"

 

"The bat told me," Molly said.

 

"You mean he showed up and you said, 'What's wrong, boy, is Timmy trapped down a well? and he barked to tell you that's what was wrong? Like that?"

 

"No," Molly said. "It was like, 'Your husband and a bunch of other people have barricaded themselves in the chapel against a horde of brain-eating zombies and you need to go save them. Like that. He has some kind of accent. Sounds Spanish."

 

"I for one am glad that you went off your meds," said Tucker Case, who was standing next to Lena as she bandaged Theo's head. "A few hallucinations are a small price to pay, if you ask me."

 

Molly held up her hand for him to be quiet. She stood and brushed the pilot aside, looking back toward the burning church. A tall dark figure in a long coat was coming toward them through the killing field.

 

"Oh no," said Theo. "Everyone get in the cars and lock them."

 

"No," Molly said, dismissing Theo's instructions with a distracted backward wave. "We're okay." She met the angel in the middle of the parking lot.

 

"Merry Christmas," said the angel.

 

"Yeah, you, too," said Molly.

 

"Have you seen the child? Joshua?" asked Raziel.

 

"There's a kid over there with the others," said Molly. "That's probably him."

 

"Take me to him."

 

 

* * *

 

"That's him," Theo said. "That's the robot guy."

 

"Shhhhhh," Molly shushed.

 

Raziel walked to where Emily Barker was holding her son, Joshua, sitting on the back of Molly's Honda.

 

"Mom," wailed Joshua. He hid his face in his mother's chest.

 

But Emily was still stunned by witnessing her mate's death, and she didn't react at all except to hold the boy tighter.

 

Raziel put his hand on the boy's head. "Fear not," he said. "For I bring you tidings of great joy. Behold, your Christmas wish has been granted." The angel waved toward the fire and the carnage and the exhausted and terrified survivors as if he were a game-show hostess presenting a washer/dryer set. "Not what I would have wished for," the angel said, "but I am but a lowly messenger."

 

Josh rolled in his mother's arms and faced the angel. "I didn't ask for this. This isn't what I wished for."

 

"Sure it is," said Raziel. "You wished that the Santa you saw killed be brought back to life."