Bookshelf Battle

“Bonnie,” Slade said.

The sound of the explosion left a ringing in the Reverend’s ears. He spoke a bit louder than normal so he could hear himself.

“Well, that’s a sign all right,” Reverend Cavanaugh said. “The Lord is pissed and the end of the world is nigh.”

Slade looked to his trusty number two. “Gunther…”

“Go on,” the old man said. He handed Slade his knife. “You’ll need this.”

“Sarah,” Slade said.

“I’ll look out for her,” Gunther said. “Get a move on.”

“Doc,” Annabelle said. “You should go too.”

“Yes,” Doc said. “Where would I be without you, my dear, to serve as my moral comp…”

Doc stopped mid-sentence. The color ran out of his face. He doubled-over and vomited, emptying his guts into the dirt.

“Doc?” Annabelle asked as she clutched the physician’s arm.

“Oh dear,” Doc said. “I seem to have succumb to the stress of this harrowing ordeal. Mr. Slade, I’m afraid you’ll have to go on…”

Doc looked up. Slade was making a mad dash down the road.

“…without me.”

“I’m not about to face the end of the world sober,” the Reverend said. “I’ve got a bottle of the good stuff. Anyone who wants a belt follow me.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Reverend,” Gunther said.

The Reverend walked into the church. Gunther followed him. Doc was a bit shaky on his feet, so Annabelle helped him up the steps.

“How embarrassing,” Doc said.

“It’s ok to get scared,” Annabelle said.

“Scared?” Doc asked. “Please. Remove that scandalous thought from your mind posthaste, my dear. I meant I am embarrassed that I am unable to assist Mr. Slade. I fear he may perish without me at his side. Oh, I do hope he muddles through somehow.”