One Foot in the Grave: An Almost Zombie Tale Read Online Free Page B

says.
    I frown, but before I can ask him what he means, the doors pull open and people start spilling into the sanctuary. I guess he wasn’t kidding when he said this was a working church. It’s not like hundreds of people or anything, but it’s enough to make me flinch backwards and clutch at my unattached hand. I don’t really get a good look at any of them; they just file in and start to fill up the pews in front of me.
    “Excuse me,” the priest stands up and his clawed feet dig into the pitted marble flooring. Little chunks fly up around him. A grinding sound accompanies the sight of wings unfolding from his back, and my breath catches. The wings are beautiful quartz, the light from the stained glass windows catching and reflecting the purple of the stone. “It’s time to start services.”
    Having grown up in churches across Georgia, I fully expect a relatively normal service, though in retrospect, I have no idea why. I mean, the priest is made of stone. I turn to face the altar and bow my head.
    Father Moss clears his throat. It sounds like a monsoon storm of boulders, but it doesn’t slow the low rumble of chatter from everyone. Cleary, no-one’s new except me. He clatters those gorgeous wings, and the sound dies down. “We’ve got a new visitor tonight.”
    At that, most of the heads swivel in my direction and suddenly I’m the center of attention. I also get an up-close view of the people sitting around me. The word ‘bizarre’ doesn’t do them justice. “What the…frick.”
    “What’s your problem?” The girl directly in front, probably the only one in the room not staring at me, turns in the pew. I gasp. Her eyes are huge, green, and slit vertically, like a cat.
    As usual, my mouth gets in the way of my brain. “What the heck are you ?”
    Those eyes narrow. “Rude much?”
    “Let it go, Noelle,” Father Moss says.
    She subsides, but not without glaring daggers at me first. Great. My first enemy.

Five:
    In Which I Learn What I am.
    “Everyone, this is Isis,” Father Moss says.
    “Hi, Isis,” everyone except the chick in front of me, Noelle, says. I feel like I’m at an A. A. meeting in the Twilight Zone. Everyone is deformed: there’s a kid around my age whose hands are massive paws. That can’t be real, can it? And what about the guy who grins at me, his canines needle sharp? My gut tells me those have nothing to do with body mods, but the alternative – that they’re real – is even weirder.
    I’m pretty sure the gargoyle sees the whites of my eyes, because he motions to me with one clawed hand. “While everyone mingles, let’s go to my office.”
    I nod. I don’t think I’m ready to learn the truth of why all these people look so freaky. Computers feel safer. They only do what they’re told, after all. Nothing more and nothing less.
    “When I said our computers are specialized, I meant that the search engines go deeper than normal ones,” Father Moss says. “They were designed by an old friend.”
    I shrug. Okay, so he doesn’t use Google. No biggie.
    It doesn’t take long to reach the office. It’s not like the church is massive or anything. I actually expect a closed and locked door, but there’s only an archway. That makes sense, I guess, since the priest doesn’t have fingers to grip a doorknob. The gargoyle gestures me before him. I walk in and sit in one of the comfy looking computer chairs, facing away from the arch. Behind me is a row of high tech desktop computers. Nice.
    “What did Lydia tell you about our church?” The priest squats down on his haunches, wings folded across his back.
    I think back. “Not a thing.”
    “Let me guess…you started finding strange notes lying around?”
    “I found a note, yeah. Is that some kind of conspiracy to get people to come here?”
    The gargoyle laughs. “Not really. Lydia specializes in finding and helping certain groups of people.” He shrugs and small pieces of stone fall from his shoulders in a gritty