Aberrant: Dead Rising - Fighting the Dark [Complete]

[Dawn OOC]

Gerald Hoffany prayed. He was always praying, since the zombies had come, but today was especially important. Not long ago, Fox had lead all of the supers of the compound away, taking them into the hell of the place called Paradise. And so Gerald had called all of his followers to prayer, to hold vigil as the supers had struggled to save strangers.

His head was down for most of the prayer session thus far, shutting out the sounds of people coming into and out of the church. Finally though, he sensed that his people needed him. Standing, he turned to face the room, stiffening in surprise. The large tent that served as the church was filled to capacity. People he recognized from all over the camp where there. Hettie moved to stand next to him, her face alight with joy and reverence. “They’ve come for guidance and to give help,” she murmured to him, touching his arm.

He nodded, a bit dazed. Many had turned to God in this time of crisis, but their faith soon died in the safety of Fox’s Refuge. Some had lost their faith, believing that a caring God wouldn’t have allowed the zombies to come. Others had remained steadfast, like Hettie, his rock. He smiled at her, not seeing the plain, round face. He didn’t see her bony frame, wind-burnt skin or dry hair. He saw the girl he’d fallen in love with, who had given him his children and been his rock and strength. She had had faith when he had faltered, and he loved her so much for that gift. He thanked God daily that she hadn’t been taken from him.

His instinct was to start preaching. But he didn’t. Instead, he moved forward, reaching for the first person not engaged in prayer. As the man reached for him, Gerald took his hand, smiling with the warmth of God’s light in his eyes. Softly, he murmured to the man, the right words to soothe pouring from his lips. With a nod, he left that man better, stronger, and turned to the next.

On through the crowd he moved, sharing the light in his heart with each person there. The men that whispered their fears to him with shame in their eyes, or the women that clung to his hand and begged him to tell them it would be alright – all were touched by the strength and hope he offered freely to them.

One man drew him short and took him by surprise. “Dr. Singh,” Gerald said, clasping his hand and smiling, “I didn’t think we shared the same thoughts about God.”

“We don’t, most certainly,” Dr. Singh said, his eyes tormented. “But until they return with injured… I wanted to ask if I could pray here, or if that would offend you.”

“No,” Gerald said, shaking his head. “Come and share our prayers.”

The doctor nodded to him and moved deeper into the tent, coming gracefully to his knees. His hands clasped together and he closed his eyes, falling into his own silent communion with God. Gerald watched, and for the first time, he understood. It was Us versus Them, but the ‘Us’ wasn’t his church or his religion; it was all people of good heart and soul, united against the Them of pure evil. It was a fight against the eternal darkness of death and the depravity of the human heart.

With another silent prayer, Gerald asked for victory for the supers and went back to his ministry to his flock.