บท 29: CHIMES OF DOOM [4]
Xian Mei, meanwhile, was dealing with the bearded man. Leaping with athletic grace, she shot out her foot in a high kick which connected with his solar plexus.
He stumbled backward, his left arm hanging uselessly where Purna had almost severed it at the shoulder with the shotgun blast, and collided with the woman, both of them going down like skittles.
Instantly, Xian Mei and Sam ran forward, bloodied machetes raised, and hacked into their skulls, destroying their brains.
As abruptly as the violence had begun, it was over, leaving them with nothing but the shocking aftermath of battle.
Sam and Xian Mei stood side by side for a moment, panting and spattered with blood, while behind them, Purna clambered gingerly to her feet and limped across to pick up the shotgun she had dropped.
As she deftly reloaded despite her bitten hand, Jin, standing alone, dropped the crowbar with a clatter and began to shake and sob.
Closing the cartridge chamber of the gun with a click, Purna moved forward and put her arm around Jin's thin shoulders.
'Hey,' she said gently, 'you did good. You saved my life.'
Jin looked at the carnage around her. 'That was … horrible,' she whispered.
Purna nodded. 'Yes, it was. But it's all over now, and they're at peace.'
Suddenly Sam raised his head. 'Hey, listen up everyone.'
Despite the constant clang of bells, they heard a rustling and grunting coming from somewhere in the undergrowth, moving in their direction. It was not close to them, but not too far away either.
'Let's move,' said Purna. 'But keep alert. Eyes and ears everywhere.'
They moved swiftly uphill, Xian Mei in the lead, Purna limping along with the shotgun, and Jin, who was still shaking, just in front of Sam.
Closer to the church, the vegetation died back a little, and they were able to see the building, perched on the side of the hill and overlooking the city below, in all its glory.
In truth, however, despite its imposing location, the building itself was not in the best shape. The roof was missing tiles, and many of the interlocking wooden planks that comprised its walls had either warped or rotted.
In some places, the damage was so bad it had been patched up with tin or corrugated iron, which itself had now gone rusty.
Looking at the dilapidated building, it struck Sam that it didn't seem very defensible. If enough zombies made a concerted effort to get in, they would – he was sure of it.
As they moved across the open patch of scrubby ground towards the sun-scoured but stout-looking main doors of the church, another of the infected crawled out from behind a tombstone and began dragging itself along the ground towards them.
This one was an overweight man in his forties wearing a soiled and ripped policeman's uniform.
Half of his face had been torn away, and his right leg was a ragged, bleeding stump. Jin put a hand over her mouth and looked away as Xian Mei strode determinedly forward.
Standing over the crawling zombie, but taking care not to come within range of its frantically grasping hands, she said, 'Sorry.' Then she raised her machete and ruthlessly brought it down.
The others waited for her to rejoin them before walking up to the church. Purna bashed on the door with the barrel of the shotgun. 'Hey!' she shouted. 'You in there!'
'We came to see if you needed help!' called Xian Mei.
They waited less than ten seconds, and then one of the two doors creaked slowly open. Purna stepped back, half-raising the shotgun warily.
A man's face appeared, his skin the color of teak, his close-cropped hair and neat mustache white and grizzled.
'Friends or foes?' he inquired in a deep, gentle, almost melodious voice.
'Friends, we hope,' said Xian Mei.
'I hope so too,' said the man and pulled the door further open. 'Not that we refuse entry to anyone here. Come in.'
The four of them trooped inside, and the old man closed and locked the door behind them.
'Name's Ed,' he said. 'Ed Lacey.'
Purna introduced herself and the rest of them. 'You're not native to these parts,' she noted.
'I'm from Florida. Was on holiday with my wife, Maya. Some holiday, huh?'
In spite of everything, Sam grinned. The man's gentle humor was a welcome tonic after what they had been through. 'Not exactly the paradise we were hoping for either.'
Ed laughed softly, then raised a hand and crooked a finger. 'C'mon, I'll introduce you to the others.'
The interior of the church was as shabby as the exterior – chunks of plaster missing from the walls, many of the pews broken or water-damaged.
At the far end, huddled on rickety wooden chairs around a large crucifix that towered above the raised pulpit, were around thirty people.
Most looked like shell-shocked parishioners who had fled here, seeking sanctuary from the overcrowded slums of Moresby directly below.
However, a few of the group were clearly more affluent, among them a smattering of white-faced western holidaymakers who had somehow managed, whether by accident or design, to find their way here.
Looking around and nodding greetings at people as Ed named them, Sam noted that the ages of the group members ranged from less than one (a tired-looking bony-shouldered mother who couldn't have been more than seventeen was breastfeeding a fidgeting, fractious baby) to a half-dozen men and women in their seventies or possibly eighties.
One man who was younger than that – sixty maybe – was lying full-length on a pew, bolstered by hassocks and cushions.
He was an overweight white man (though his face at the moment was the color of beetroot), and he was breathing in ratcheting gasps, a clenched fist resting on his chest and his fleshy features knotted in pain.
An equally overweight white woman in a floral summer dress was perched next to him on a stool, clutching his free hand and murmuring platitudes.
For the first time, Ed Lacey's face clouded with concern. 'That there's Mr. and Mrs. Owen,' he said. 'Mr. Owen ain't too well.'
'What's wrong with him?' asked Purna a little sharply.
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง