Church Goers

Pattie is lying between the wall and the fridge. Pattie is my dog. I figure she likes the gentle vibration of the motor when it kicks on. We sure stepped in shit finding this spot. I commuted here, three times a month. I’m in chainsaws. That’s unclear. I deliver parts for certified Stihl brand chainsaws. To think that I came here, to this city—well they call it a city, it’s not. I came here to this broken mill town and boom, that’s the day this place sees more excitement than it has since before logging fell out of favor? Boy, these out of work folks sure can turn a downtown upside down. I’m not exaggerating when I say they had torches.

Pattie and me, we pulled off Main Street and ducked in behind the old Episcopal Church. We used to sit here and eat lunch if there were no parking spots available along the riverfront. So, we’re sitting here and Pattie’s whimpering because people are going by in V masks and Scream masks and riding motorcycles and quads and all sorts of craziness. I suppose it was only a matter of convenience to these people that it was late Autumn and costume season anyway. I guess I noticed that this old church was made of stone for the first time when crazy folks set the mechanic’s garage ablaze that night. When the eye doctor’s clinic and the New England Savings Bank went up, Pattie and I went to church.

The place was empty. The padre ran out to calm the ruckus and I was sure to lock the doors behind him. I unloaded my tools from the back of the van tout-suite. When I’d welded a couple bars to the side doors then a big one across the double main doors, I figured Pattie and I were secure. I placed a cleaned and gassed up Stihl beside each of the entrances. I figured that the beautiful whizzing sound screaming over the engine’s growl would be enough to discourage intruders. I was right.

Once we got to exploring, we came across all sorts of food bank stores, some comfy looking robes and what not, even a small living quarters with a twin bed and kitchenette. Pattie and I hunkered down. We’d been listening to the protests on the radio the whole way up from Boston. First it was your run of the mill civil unrest, then it was something else. We heard promises about a cure. We heard the governor was lynched on TV having been found guilty by a militia-of-his-peers they said. Pattie and me, we just headed north to drop our parts off and get away. We never thought for a second these church digs were going to be a permanent thing.

I guess that was just shy of a year ago now. It’s important, I’m told, to write all this down. There should be a record. And I want folks to know that we were respectful as hell in here. I never broke anything, didn’t steal or trade away any of the churchly valuables, and we kept it all real clean.

I brought out the alter-boy robes and stuffed them with some long curtains in a canvas bag we found in the back. I made the gold collection plate into his face. I used a couple of tea light tins for eyes. I hung my mother’s heart-shaped locket around his neck. Pattie is a hell of a pal, but she doesn’t have the attention span to listen to what I have to say. Walter here, Walter the alter-boy I named him, he listens and never interrupts. It was in the first four months I’d say, that Walter joined us. Since then our little family has grown.

I went out for the first time six months into becoming church-bound. I had a horrible pain in my tooth and thought one of the pharmacies might not be completely ransacked. I was wrong about the pharmacies, they were burned to the ground, every one of them. I had gotten all gussied up in a chainsaw helmet and my coveralls, had a clawhammer in my toolbelt, I carried a ten-inch metal crucifix from the alter like a club, and wore a bandana over my face to keep me safe from the Sickness. Would you believe a man in a damn helmet holding a religious relic couldn’t wander about for ten minutes before some bastard wanted what I had?

I pounded that bastard to mashed mush with the crucifix and dragged his ass to the front of the church where some clever ones had been pulling at the door and seeking entry. I laid him out in the sort of position that tells all kinds that they aren’t to come ‘round knocking again. I laid out those clever ones too, all stripped, mashed, cut, and piled up on each other. “Don’t come ‘round!” they said.

I made my way down to the riverfront. I figured I could take in a long look at that beautiful river. I hoped that could hold me for another six months and I could tell Pattie and Walter about it and that would be that. I was wrong again. They had a camp down there, some kind of biker freak party, with fires going and tents set up. This was just march, but it warmed up pretty good already. I tried to get a peek at the river so I could be satisfied and on my way, but a lady started yelling and some fellas came over to me. I told them, “oh know,” and “I’m so scared and real sorry!” Then at the last minute I brought the crucifix up and it still had some meat on it, and so most of them went running. I didn’t know if they were getting reinforcements or not, so I took the crucifix to the yelling woman and the hammer to the man she was with.

Stripping them took no time. Their clothes were good. He had a jacket with a shiny zipper and sturdy metal snaps. She wore riding leathers and a leather hat. They were perfect. As I wasn’t about to risk life and limb again for half a year, I snatched up all the bags from the tent closest to me before the cavalry came. I made just one more stop by the old market before heading in and re-barring the church’s back entrance.

So, Pattie between the fridge and the wall, Walter sitting up just as straight as you please, and now I have Billy and Bea, the bikers. I put Bea’s leather clothes on a mannequin from the market. She holds her dolly in one hand and looks off to the right. Billy is a plastic torso in a John Mellencamp t shirt, but he has a sincere face. I carved his mouth into a grin and darkened it with magic marker. He’s the cut up of our group, always making Bea and Walter laugh about something foolish I said.

It’s coming on to be late Autumn again pretty soon here. Bea and Walter have been talking, that’s when they can get a word in edgewise, what with Billy’s antics and all. They’ve been saying what we need is a nice girl for me. Somebody who could comb my hair and maybe help gather food items and firewood when we get low. Walter said she could have eyes like his, always so full of wonder, but Bea insists she have eyes like mine, pretty ones, so we could look at each other and say I love you with a wink. Walter wants me to give the girl his heart-shaped locket.

I’ll go out in a few days, maybe bring Billy with me. Pattie will still be waiting for that damn fridge motor to turn on again. It hasn’t run in almost a year, not since the grid went down. Pattie needs a bath anyway. She is starting to smell to high heaven. That’s another thing a nice girl could help us with, we all need baths really bad. Billy just suggested that my mind needs a bath, because it’s dirty. I ought to knock him right out for the things he says to me.

I’m going to seal this up and keep it in the communion box back in the quarters. It’s a holy document now. I can write one a year and let you know, whoever you are who finds this, just how well we all got on during these trying times. Now it’s Tuesday I think, and that means it’s my special night with Bea, and I don’t care what Billy and Walter say about it.