Blood Cult by Edwin Page

worried that he was going to shoot the
youth, the tone of his voice carrying a definite threat. My body was trembling.
I felt like calling out, like shouting for him to let the boy go.
    ‘Get the hell out of here,’ he said eventually.
    The boy looked at both men in turn and then hightailed it down the
street, soon vanishing into the night as I felt a flood of relief.
    ‘Mommy?’ Chrissie’s distressed call came from the top of the stairs.
    I hastened out of the room and looked up to the left to see her standing
at the top with the last of the candle held in one hand and Ollie in the other,
his legs dangling to the floor. ‘Go back to your room, Honey.’
    ‘I heard gunfire.’
    ‘Everything’s okay. Just go and wait in your room. We should be setting
off soon.’
    ‘Is Daddy okay?’
    I nodded. ‘He’s fine.’
    ‘What happened?’ Her expression remained fearful.
    ‘I promise everything’s okay, but you must go back to your room now, Honey,’
I reiterated. ‘Go on.’ I made an ushering motion.
    Chrissie hesitated and then turned and vanished from sight as she
reluctantly returned to her room. I stood for a moment, taking a few deep
breaths as my pulse began to calm.
    Turning, I went to the door, the case still tightly gripped in my hand. I
rushed from the house and went to Bob, our new neighbour standing on the far
side of the body lying on the driveway, pump-action shotgun at his side as he
frowned down at youth and looked a little sickly.
    ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever fired the gun,’ he stated in a whisper
as I passed around the hood and drew up to Bob.
    ‘You okay?’ I asked, staring at him worriedly.
    He nodded. ‘Fine.’
    Our neighbour vomited onto the flower bed beside the driveway, bending double
in the aftermath of what had happened.
    ‘I couldn’t let them take the car,’ said Bob, glancing at the body, the
light spilling around him from the interior of the car highlighting the gory
wound upon the youth’s chest.
    ‘It’s just a car,’ I responded. ‘You’re worth a hell of a lot more.’
    ‘Our food’s in the trunk and we’d have been left without transport to
head north. All I could think about was getting you and Chrissie to safety.
That’s all that mattered.’
    The man spat the last of the bile from his mouth and slowly straightened,
his black leather jacket creaking, a taupe casual shirt beneath tucked untidily
into his chinos. His gaze briefly lingered on the body and then he turned to
us. ‘I was having trouble sleeping. I heard you packing up to leave and went to
the window to watch. That’s when I saw the kids approaching.’ He took a
wavering breath as he continued to battle his nausea.
    ‘Thanks for coming to my rescue. I don’t know what would have happened if
you hadn’t shown up.’
    ‘I couldn’t just stand by and watch.’
    ‘The name’s Bob.’
    ‘Tyreese,’ he responded as they shook hands.
    ‘Leah,’ I stated, reaching out and shaking his hand, noticing it
trembling as he withdrew it afterwards.
    ‘I hoped I’d never fire this thing. It was just a bit of homefront
protection, something to scare away any wannabe thieves,’ he said, briefly
looking down at the pump-action, ‘but when the bombs dropped I knew this day
would come.’ Tyreese shook his head and took another deep breath. ‘I just wish
it hadn’t come so soon.’
    He turned his gaze back to us. ‘Have you all got somewhere safe to go?’
he asked, a pleading edge to his tone.
    Bob glanced at me and I nodded my silent consent. ‘Montreal wasn’t hit,’
he stated, turning back to our neighbour.
    Tyreese looked at us in surprise. ‘Really?’
    Bob nodded and then moved to sit on the edge of the driver’s seat. Taking
the pistol in his left hand, he reached in with the right, turning on the radio.
The woman’s voice spoke from the door-mounted speakers as the message continued
to repeat. We stood in silence and listened, waiting for the English version to
come to an