Scavengers: August by K.A. Merikan

coat and firm boots. Instead of a mask, he wrapped
his face with a gray shawl that uncovered only his goggles. A flat,
dark-gray cap completed the look. “Fuckin’ nutjobs!”
    “I know. I have
to keep on top of it all,” sighed James. He also thought that this
crazy cult was getting really out of hand.
    “Ya know Lord
Barnett?” asked Ira with a shrug as they went into a broader,
cobbled street. There were medium-sized, humble shops on both
sides, though the lack of traffic made it seem provincial. A wooden
wagon tugged by an old man in gray-ish clothes was the only vehicle
trailing along the road among numerous passer-bys, most of them in
neat but modest garb.
    “Not very well.
But he’s a strange man. Always dark and serious. He even seemed to
support some of the less radical Johner agendas.” James shook his
head.
    “So I’ve
heard.” Ira looked into the cloudy sky with an unsatisfied
expression on his face. “People like ‘im. They should die,” he said
in a serious voice.
    James blinked,
throwing him a look of shock. “Die? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not
one of them. He just doesn’t know any better!”
    “He’s
supporting them,” answered Ira, directing his calm gaze at James.
“Case somethin’ happens, he’d be responsible too.”
    “That isn’t how
it works,” sighed James. He almost reached out to caress Ira’s
back, but held back quickly, suddenly remembering they weren’t
alone anymore. “He didn’t officially proclaim his support.”
    “Everyone knows
in the streets,” said Ira and as they got closer to the planned
route of the walk, voices and the sound of drums became louder. The
parade must have already begun.
    “Maybe if he
gets pushed to make a declaration, it will get easier to chase him
for responsibility.”
    Ira went silent
for a moment, but finally put a hand on James’ shoulder. “Don’t
come too close to the march,” he warned. In front of them, they
already saw a crowd gathering along the perpendicular street. Some
voiced their support for the manifestation; others seemed to do
everything in their might to drown the shouts of the former. At the
back of the crowd, Ira and James actually saw a group of lads still
quarrelling, but at least three of them looked ready to join a
fight at any given moment.
    “Don’t worry. I
need to see what’s happening there,” said James to his displeased
companion. They had heard the echoing sounds of someone talking
through a speaking tube. Maybe a preacher. It was impossible to
understand though, from the distance. “There is military all
around, anyway,” he said, recognizing that Ira was becoming
increasingly tense.
    “Oh I know them
well,” snorted Ira, looking back at him, worry clear in his eyes.
“Keep close to me ‘if ya really wanna be ‘ere.”
    “Be where?”
asked James as they started passing onlookers, moving closer to the
manifestation. The walls of the buildings around them were tall and
dark, covering most of the area in an unpleasantly cold shadow.
    “Near ‘em!” Ira
exhaled, remaining silent until they reached the crowd, which
filled both sides of the main street in the area. From the look of
it, most of the people gathered here were working class, but they
could also spot people dressed in finer clothing. The rhythmic
sound of drums overshadowed all conversations around them, leaving
James strangely isolated in the crowd. Feeling safe with Ira at his
side, he stood on his toes to look at the grotesque parade of
Johners.
    All of them
wore simplistic garments made of rough, charcoal colored cloth with
little tailoring. That was something that James was used to about
the Johners, but suddenly, he noticed something that made him open
his eyes wider. In the middle of the procession, on an elevated
platform was a massive wooden cage full of zombies. His blood went
cold at that sight, and for a brief moment he felt almost
lightheaded. The monsters weren’t nearly loud enough to be heard in
the racket,