The pews had been pushed aside long ago, replaced with a few makeshift tables and benches. The kids were already gathering, drawn by the smell. They ranged from toddlers barely able to hold spoons, to quiet-eyed boys and girls not much younger than Johnquis.
The youngest one, barely four, waddled over and tugged on Jiana's sleeve.
He mumbled, eyes round.
"I'm hungwy."
"You're always hungry."
Jiana teased, kneeling and handing him the first bowl.
Johnquis moved fast, careful not to spill as he handed out portions, starting with the smallest children first. The older ones, used to waiting, sat patiently, bowls in hand.
There wasn't much meat just scraps of dried jerky softened in the stew but the warmth was real. And the kids lit up once they had their bowls. Steam rose around the room. Chatter filled the space.
"Thank you, big brother!"
"Thanks, Jiana!"
Jiana sat cross-legged next to the smallest girl, helping her scoop up the carrots.
Johnquis leaned back against one of the old pillars and finally let himself smile. The ache in his arms and shoulders didn't matter. The hunger didn't matter.
This feeding the others, making sure they were safe, warm, and full this was what being the oldest meant.
He watched the younger ones eat. Their smiles were crooked, teeth missing, faces dirty but they were alive. Laughing. And for a moment, the world outside the cathedral didn't exist.
Nana called from the back
"Eat now because who knows what tomorrow brings."
"Okay, Nana."
Johnquis counted the kids.
"One, two, three… nine… Twelve minus nine…"
Jiana told him,
"Three are missing again. Let me guess, our little ghosts?"
Johnquis sighed.
"Of course it's them."
They both knew exactly who. The same trio of troublemakers always slipped away when food was ready, not out of rebellion but out of habit. A game. A ritual. Hide and seek before every meal, with Johnquis as the seeker.
He turned, cracking his knuckles, and raised his voice dramatically.
"Alright… little snacks. You smell that stew? That was bait."
A few of the younger kids squealed and giggled, even though they weren't the targets.
Johnquis's eyes narrowed as he stepped toward the darker side of the cathedral.
"The Eater is hungry. And he only eats children who don't come to the table…"
He dragged his foot along the ground.
"Stomp… stomp… the hungry Eater hunts…"
He slipped behind one of the thick stone columns near the altar. The old cathedral had plenty of cracks, forgotten crawlspaces, and wooden nooks left over from the world before. He crouched, peeking beneath a warped floorboard near the organ.
"Not here…"
Then he tiptoed behind the prayer lectern, pull aside a tattered curtain.
"Aha!"
A small boy let out a scream and bolted, knocking over a pile of old hymnals. Johnquis gave chase with exaggerated, beast-like growls.
"Graaagh! Gotcha now!"
"Nooo! You can't eat me!"
Behind a row of broken benches, two more kids huddled in a blanket fort made of old pew cushions. Johnquis leapt over and landed, arms spread.
"All three in one nest! Jackpot!"
But the third kid darted from the side, laughing, and sprinted across the hall.
"I'm not food! You'll have to catch me first!"
Johnquis paused, panting dramatically.
"He escaped!"
Jiana called. She dropped the dishes with Nana and gave chase. Giggling,
"Leave it to me! Eater's assistant activated!"
The last kid squealed and tried to climb a pile of collapsed chairs near the back door.
Jiana catch his ankle mid-climb and pulling him gently down.
"Nope! You're stew now."
"Noooooo!"
The whole cathedral rang with laughter.
Johnquis marched them back in line like captured prisoners, each kid giggling and pretending to be terrified.
One of the little girls turned and whispered,
"Mr. Eater… will you really eat us?"
"Only if you don't finish your food."
Jiana rolled her eyes.
"Stop scaring them."
He chuckled and ruffled the girl's hair.
"Alright, alright."
All twelve kids were seated now, a few still giggling, others red-faced from running.
Jiana and Johnquis sat down too, and together with Nana, they all shared their food.
The stew was simple just roots, beans, and whatever dried meat Nana could find but to the children, it was a feast.
One of the boys said with his mouth full.
"This is the best one yet!"
"Is this rabbit?"
Nana chuckled as she sat down with her bowl. "
If it is, it sure ran slow."
Everyone laughed. Johnquis nudge Jiana with his elbow.
"I think Jiana put something special in it."
"Yeah, my secret ingredient—love and dirt."
The kids responded,
"Ew!"
"I washed the carrots!"
One of the older girls pointed at Johnquis's nearly empty bowl.
"Big Brother ate faster than anyone!"
"I'm always on patrol for seconds."
He said, holding his spoon like a sword.
"Can we have stew again tomorrow?"
Nana said gently,
"We'll see. Depends if the world gives us enough."
Jiana looked at her, then at Johnquis.
"We'll make it enough."
There was a beat of silence, a heavy but hopeful pause.
Then a clatter.
"Oops!"
One of the boys dropped his spoon.
Johnquis bent to pick it up.
"You gotta hold it like this—"
He froze.
His spoon. The broth.
It had turned deep red.
Blood.
Thick, oily, almost black.
The steam rising now smelled like iron.
The warmth of the room evaporated. The laughter warped.
Johnquis's hands began to shake.
He looked around.
All the kids were still eating but their mouths were smeared with red. Their bowls overflowed with blood. Their eyes were hollow. Empty.
"J-Jiana?"
He turned but she was staring at him, face pale, lips red, blood dribbling down her chin.
"I saved the last piece for you."
Johnquis screamed.
The bowl shattered. He fell back.
And—
Snap.
He jolted upright, breath ragged. Sunlight cut through broken windows, stabbing his eyes.
Dust swirled above him. The cathedral was gone.
Stone replaced with broken tile. Benches with rusted gym lockers. The sound of kids laughing replaced with the hum of dead silence.
He was back in the gym.
The Runner looked at him, crouched nearby. Head tilted. Concern in its glowing eyes.
Johnquis stared at the cracked ceiling, chest still rising and falling fast.
He wiped the sweat from his brow.
"It's always that. The same dream again and again… whenever I nearly die."
He sat up, spine aching, arms heavy.
"I still hope to go back to that."
His voice cracked.
"They were the only good thing I ever had."
The Runner sat beside him and placed one of its hands, clawed, not quite human on his shoulder. Gentle.
Johnquis exhaled. Slow.
"I hate waking up."
A long silence.
He looked sideways at the Runner.
"You ever dream?"
The Runner tilted its head again, unsure.
"No, probably not. Maybe it's better that way."
He looked toward the shattered windows. Afternoon light poured through. The warmth on his skin didn't feel like the cathedral, but it was something.