At the top of the staircase was a door of the same design as the front doors, but with a modern lock. I opened it with another one of the keys. The bell tower lived up to its name. It was very high up, and there was a bell in it. It was very big and probably very loud. A pair of industrial-size earmuffs hung from a nail on the wall.
I'm sure that if I were to look out of the openings in wall, I would be treated to a beautiful view of the city. Complete with a beautiful sunrise and the extermination of the human race. I hurried back down the staircase, closing the door firmly behind me. I didn't need to see that shit.
Halfway down the staircase, I stopped and leaned against the wall with my eyes closed, trying to think. I was scared. Not in that intensely adrenaline-fueled way that makes your hair stand on end, but quietly scared. The rational sort of fear that pointed out that I'd been clever a couple of times, lucky a couple of times, and that I'd come out ahead of the game so far - but sooner or later the dice would come up snake eyes. Statistically, I was going to die soon. Simple as that.
Not a cheery thought.
I could feel the walls closing in, so to speak, but some part of me pushed back. I was a survivor. Fear was irrelevant. The familiar sensation of cold, calculating efficiency flooded my brain, and the Survivor gave Fear the stare-down. Fear blinked first.
The Survivor felt different this time. I had more control. Instead of being led like a puppet on strings, it felt like I was being guided.
I had both weapons and a shelter, but few supplies. My stomach rumbled audibly, so I decided to loot the kitchen. The fridge was empty, but the cupboards held some items of interest. I gathered the whole lot in my arms and dumped them on the table next to the wine and communion wafers. There was a loaf of white bread, a package of raw pasta, various spices and herbs, four apples, a jar of honey, two half-liter bottles of water and plenty of tea and coffee. Not exactly a smorgasbord, but it would keep me going for today. I put some honey on two slices of bread and wolfed them down along with one of the apples and some water.
Water was actually one of my main concerns. The water pressure had disappeared when the power went out, which meant that I had to rely on scavenging bottled water.
The smell of blood reminded me of the dead priest at the front door. I'd have to get him out of the church pretty soon, and then start on making this place into a proper fortress. The pews would provide plenty of wood, but I had no tools to work with. I had to go back to the caretaker's house and scavenge everything I could. Food, tools, anything.
I emptied my bag of clothes onto the floor, grabbed my shovel and headed out. I held my ear to the door, but heard nothing except the distant, muffled sounds of sirens and screaming. Some part of my mind registered that the gunfire had stopped. The rest of my mind chose to ignore it. I cracked open the door and peeked out, just to be sure. No walkers in the vicinity. Good.
Grabbing a piece of his robe not covered in blood, I dragged the dead priest out of the church and looked around for somewhere to dump the body. I didn't fancy having a corpse lying outside the front doors, but just dumping him off to the side didn't seem right either. After a few minutes of looking around, I found what I had hoped for: an empty grave. I dragged over the body and rolled it in.
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