The Sanctuary Up North

“Wakey wakey,” a creepy, child-like voice said. Paul was lying in a bedroom. Well, he was lying in a bed which happened to be in a room. The metal walls were covered in dried blood and lit by dull, ominous torchlight. He tried to move in a sudden panic, but his wrists and ankles were tied down.

A man with a wooden mallet came out of the shadows. “There he is,” he spoke in that same creepy voice.

Paul’s eyes widened, “wh- who are you?”

The man’s voice became deeper and harsher, “No questions!” He rushed towards Paul with a crazed look in his eye. “How’d you find this place!?” Before Paul was able to answer, the man started pacing in circles talking to himself.

In his childish voice, “They were all supposed to be dead!”

He responded with the harsh voice again, “But clearly it didn’t work! The virus struck and all died, but him!”

The man started to beat himself in the face repeatedly with the wooden mallet. Blood and spit splattered on the wall and on Paul’s face. Paul spoke up, “Um, excuse me?”

The man rushed back, blood dripping from his mouth, teeth shattered, and the bone in his nose stuck out of the skin. His childlike voice took over again, “well, how did you find this place, we must know?”

“I don’t know how I got here. I was looking for a sanctuary town up north and then I got stuck in an avalanche.”

The man paced again. “Avalanche, hmm?”

His harsh voice spoke again, “Liar! Slice him! He’ll talk!”

Paul felt an immediate burning pain right above his left knee. It turned into searing pain and then an excruciating one when he looked down to see black blood spewing from his now stumped leg. “AHHHH!” He screamed in agony, his vision blurred, and his lungs struggled to fill with air. The screaming faded as the dizziness sent him back to sleep.

A door crashed open and a tall man in a black trench coat and tall black boots appeared. “What did you do!? You didn’t sterilize or put him under!?”

“Please, sir, please don’t hit me,” said the childish voice. “Don’t hit poor deprived Gerald.”

“Get out!” Yelled the new man.

He sat down in a chair and rolled over to Paul who was partially conscious. “Sorry about that, Paul. Gerald was not supposed to do it that way. We are much more civilized here, but I’m going to get you all fixed up, ok? My name is Dr. Burg, but most everyone here calls me the Reverend.” Paul felt a sting followed by a cool injection travel through his veins as he drifted back to sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but the pain in his leg seemed to subside. His vision was blurry but coming back slow and steady. There was a creak in the distance as the door opened again.

It was the Reverend. He rolled back over to Paul and spoke in a calm, soothing voice, “Hey Paul. How are you feeling?”

Paul was not sure what reality was at this point; it all felt like a bad dream. “Ugh, groggy,” he said, still not able to see well. “Ho-how do you know my name?”

“It was on this locket we found.” Paul’s eyes shot open and his vision cleared.

Blood rushed to his face and he snapped, “give it back! Don’t you touch that!”

The Reverend kept his cool, “Woa, woa. All your stuff is safe.” He pushed Paul back in bed, “you need to rest, ok. I’ll be back in an hour to see if we can get you up.” He stood up, holding the heart-shaped locket. Catching a glimpse of Paul’s anger he tossed the locket to him, “here ya go. If it will help you rest, you hold onto it.”

Paul lied in bed contemplating how he wound up in this situation. He’d been a part of the mass murders since the beginning. He helped create the virus that wiped out civilization. He held the locket close, thinking of his wife; he was responsible for her death. He was responsible for millions of deaths. Where he was now he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was hell. The last city he was in was the Upper Echelon, but he couldn’t go back there. He had to escape the oppression, the lies, and the brainwashing. He’d heard there was a town somewhere up north, far north. The rumors were they were free of her control and safe from the virus. Paul fell asleep again, dreaming of a better life.

“Wake up, Paul. Let’s get you on your foot.” The Reverend was back in the room, his calm demeanor was intoxicating. Paul felt safe around him.

“O-ok Reverend.”

A sly smile came on Dr. Burg’s face. He put an arm around Paul and hoisted him up and thrust a wooden crutch under his left arm. “Don’t worry, everyone has trouble walking on it at first.”

They took a few steps towards the door, each more painful than the last. Blood was oozing from Paul’s leg. Gritting his teeth, he asked in an excruciating tone, “what do you mean, everyone?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

They stumbled out the doors of the operating room and into a long corridor. They hobbled about halfway down the hallway when the Reverend stopped. “Ok, Paul. Now this is where I leave you. Just walk straight through those doors and I’ll meet you on the other side, ok?” He was pointing to double doors at the end of the hallway.

Paul’s pain was so severe his consciousness was not really all there. “Wait, but?” It was too late, the Reverend was gone. “Ok,” Paul thought to himself, “you can do this. Through the doors and then we figure out how to leave this slice of hell.”

He had trouble with the crutch and fell multiple times on his stump, letting out screams of agony, but he made it nonetheless. Paul pushed the doors open and sunlight filled the corridor. Paul was blinded as he walked out into the snowy town center. There were dozens of people all surrounding an odd statue that seemed to resemble the Reverend. Most of the buildings around them looked vacant with broken windows boarded up, grungy brick exterior, and fires lit everywhere. Shivers ran down his spine as the frigid air filled his lungs.

As Paul hobbled to the town center, he noticed something that gave him even more chills. All the townspeople had stump legs too. Some had crutches, some different prosthetics, and others an old-fashioned peg leg. But every last one of them was missing a leg. They were also all staring at him with huge smiles. Paul passed an older couple who said “thank you, Paul,” as he passed them. Paul gave them a strange look and kept walking.

“Welcome townspeople of St. Burg!” Paul looked up to see the Reverend standing on top of the statue. “We have a very special guest today! Our newest inaugurated member of St. Burg!”

The Reverend was pointing to Paul and the crowd cheered.

“Let the feast begin!” The Reverend screamed and then jumped down off the statue into the snow. He ran up to some large wooden doors in front of one of the buildings. It looked like it used to be a barn of some sort years ago. Inside were 3 long tables with old ripped tablecloths and candles. At every chair was a plate with what looked like a burnt piece of pork chop.

The crowd ran in, cheering and hollering. Many of them were praising the Reverend, “You’ve saved us all once again!” Others were still thanking Paul, though he didn’t know what exactly he did to deserve that.

Paul walked into the building last, still very confused. Everyone was sitting, waiting for the Reverend to command them what to do next. “Paul!” The Reverend shouted. “No, no, you don’t sit there. You are the guest of honor, sit up here next to me!” He was sitting at a smaller table with only two chairs. Paul walked up, still looking around at all the staring faces. It was the weirdest dinner party he’d ever been to.

The townspeople all raised their glasses filled with some kind of dark black liquid. It looked thick and made Paul sick just looking at it. The Reverend spoke again, raising his glass, “To Paul!”

All the townspeople lifted their glasses and shouted, “To Paul,” and then took a large sip, leaving a dark black smear on their lips. Paul’s gag reflexes kicked in as he watched them all devour the meal in front of them like a pack of wolves. No forks or knives, just tearing and shredding into the meat, chasing it down with messy slurps of that black liquid.

The Reverend could tell Paul was disgusted, “come on Paul. Try it, it’s good!”

Paul lifted the goblet and took a sniff of the weird liquid then shoved it back on the table, “ugh! I think I’ll try a bite of the pork first.” The Reverend didn’t respond, he just watched as Paul cut into the surprisingly tender meat. He put it in his mouth and started to eat. “Mmm! That’s actually pretty good!”

“Excellent,” the Reverend said with a creepy smile. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. You deserve it; quite the sacrifice you made.” He was looking down at Paul’s leg.

Paul had totally forgotten about the leg. “Reverend?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you take my leg off, anyways? What’s up with that. I figured at first you saw it was broken, but everyone here is missing a leg?”

“Observant, Paul. You see we all have to make sacrifices in order to survive. We all give a little so everyone can live. That’s what community is, isn’t it?”

“My leg is a sacrifice?”

“Yes”

“How is my leg a sacrifice? How did I save everyone? Save them from what?”

“Starvation”

Paul’s eyes widened. He looked around in even more disgust as everyone in the room was devouring that meat. Devouring...him! Paul grabbed the goblet again and poured it on the plate. It was clear what the liquid was now.

“Ahh, yes, I like pouring the blood on the meat too. It really brings a rich aftertaste one simply cannot replicate elsewhere.”

Paul started hyperventilating. His vision blurred again. Then anger pulsed through his chest. He grabbed his plate and smashed it against the table. No one heard it, the commotion of eating Paul was too loud.

In a flash, Paul grabbed a shard of plate and sliced the Reverend’s throat. Blood spurted across the room and all over the tables. The Reverend grasped his throat and turned with wide, demented eyes towards his killer. Paul backed away to watch the Reverend bleed out and die on the floor.

The room was quiet and still. No one knew what to do; they just stared at their food and then to their leader, the man they thought was their savior.

“People! What kind of life is this!?” Everyone looked around, waiting for someone to tell them what to do. “I came to this place looking for sanctuary from the terrible things I’ve done! I have caused many people to die,” he paused and lowered his voice, “including my own wife. But no more! There is more left in this world, more than he told you!” Paul pointed down to their dead leader.

“He told us everyone was dead!” Yelled Gerald.

“He lied! I tell you the world is filled with food, comfort, and community! We just have to be willing to find it!”

“Well, who will save us this time?” The people asked.

“I will,” Paul said, holding his wife’s locket. Then he added in a low voice, as if not talking to the crowd, “and this time I won’t let you down.”