[b]Trinity Episcopal Church, Southwest Missouri
Approximately five months after the Rising[/b]
[i]Part II[/i]

Daniel convulsed and moaned throughout his restless sleep that night. It would be the first of many nights filled with nightmares.

When he awoke he shot straight up, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Daniel lurched his shoulders forward and groaned in pain. It was pitch black. Either it was a new moon outside or the clouds had covered up any remains of the waning light. He guessed he had only been asleep about four hours judging on the light when the others had shown up and how long it took the other... events... to transpire. Must have been around three or four in the morning.

The priest put his palms to the ground and began feeling around him. Eventually one landed on something wet and squishy. He shuddered. The big man. After recalling the scuffle took place near the altar and that he had fallen asleep between it and the dead man, he crawled toward it until he felt the base, then reached up to grab its edge. He slowly pulled himself up and braced himself against it for balance. The next step was getting the two altar candles lit so he could see.

Daniel lifted himself up onto the altar itself and propped himself on his knees. He pulled a pack of matches from his pocket and lit one on the sole of his shoe. Easier than trying to find the black strip on the packet.

“MMMMaaaaaa.... MMMM. Aaaaghhhh.” The dead moans bounced through the dark off the walls of the sanctuary. It had great acoustics.

“Who's there?!” Daniel extended his arm and match in the direction of the sound. It was coming from somehwere in the middle of the church. There was no answer, only the sound of movement. One shuffle on the carpet, pause. Two shuffles, pause. The priests widened eyes watched the outskirts of the light provided by the tiny flame until it finally burned out. “Shit.” The shuffling sound continued. This time after lighting the second match, he immediately lit the two altar candles, hoping it would give him more light.

Just as the second was lit, there was a loud thunk. The priest's eyes followed the light on the floor once more until he finally saw [i]it[/i]. The zombie had fallen on the first of the five steps to the altar, but was clawing to try and get itself up again. “Of fucking course!” How had he forgotten?

[i]Destroy the brain, or the person remains.[/i]

A clever phrase he'd heard from one of his visitors.

Zombie Cole continued to totter toward Daniel, succumbing to yet another of the stairs. The priest took this as his chance to kill it before it could advance any further. He hopped down from the altar and began searching around for the knife before he realized he had left it buried in the larger man's chest. He gripped the handle tight and grimaced at the sound it made as it was being pulled from the dead flesh.

The zombie had its arms stretched out toward him. He approached it carefully and kept his distance until he was behind it. It was slow to turn on him. He pounced on its back, struggled with it for a few seconds, but then rapidly stuck the tip of the knife in at the base of its skull and gave it a sharp thrust up and in. It stopped struggling beneath him.

He let out a long sigh of relief and wiped the accumulating sweat from his brow. 

[i]Will this madness ever end? Why have you forsaken us?[/i]

The larger body started to wiggle. The priest wouldn't give it a chance to completely re-animate. As he had done hours before, he settled himself on top of the man and shoved the blade in through it's right eye.

[i]And then more tears.[/i]

Daniel had already bashed the females head in, so there was nothing more to worry about, at least in terms of bodily harm. He decided to go back asleep until daylight.

____

When the priest opened his eyes later that day, he sincerely hoped it had all been a dream. He forced himself to his feet and looked around at the place. He focused in on the bloodstains and bullet holes... all the evidence that would show others what had transpired... all the evidence that proved he was a filthy murderer before himself and his Lord. He decided then that no one could know. He went to the closet near the church entrance and took from it a chain and padlock. He used them to further secure the threshold. Dan made the decision then that no one could see. No one would see the dirty sanctuary. If they couldn't see it, then they couldn't see him either. How stained he'd become.

From there, it was all about the cover up... all about creating the facade, even if only for himself. He figured it was the only way to protect himself from the man he'd become.

First were the bodies. He lugged each outside into a pile about ten yards out from one of the side entrances then set them ablaze. He stripped naked and threw his clothes into the fire as well.

Second were the stains. The priest scrubbed at them until his fingers bled. Much of it he was able to get rid of with water and cloth, but what he couldn't inevitably dried and turned brown. 

Third was himself. Daniel walked to the vesting sacristy and looked at himself in the full length mirror on the back of the door. What he saw, he couldn't comprehend. He propped himself up with one hand to the door and leaned in close to examine further.

“Who... are... you?” He was covered in red. Much of his face and body was swollen and bruised. The back of his head pulsated in pain as the blood was pumped through it. He put his left hand there and felt a sizeable knot. When he pulled it back there was red on his fingers.

Daniel dunked a large container in the sink and filled it with water. He then carried it to the vesting sacristy bathroom and gathered some towels. He proceeded to wipe himself down from head to toe. He finished with his face, gently patting it down. When he was done he looked back into the mirror. “There you are. Daniel. Son of Patricia and Jacob. Little brother of Lillith.” His mind was slowly rebuilding and reforming the jigsaw. He smiled at himself before finally dressing.

When he made his way to the working sacristy later that night to get some food, he paused in front of the altar and stared at the brown stain for a good five minutes.

“Shoot. Must have spilled some wine there last night.” He laughed. “Clumsy goof.” Then continued on.

[i]You do what you have to do to survive.[/i]