***
A kilometer back down the road, Winston and Star located a navigable path to the bottom of the cliff. They used it to approach the wrecked truck. The vehicle was badly smashed up, and pieces of Bert lay scattered.
“Good riddance, friend!” Winston savagely kicked Bert’s cranium out of the way.
“I kind of feel sorry for him,” Star said. “I don’t think he really meant to harm us. He only wanted to finish things.”
“And we just happened to be in the way, huh?” Winston said.
“Something like that.”
Winston dropped the subject. Star was on one of her compassion kicks again, and it would not benefit him to argue with her.
They located their possessions among the dead shrubs and the dull green picker weeds. Winston held up his bent scooter.
“I won’t be going far on this thing,” he said.
“Mine’s a total loss, too,” Star said.
She rifled through her back pack.
“Looks like the power cells survived,” she said.
“That’s the main thing,” Winston said. “We’d have a hard time without those.”
“There’s something a lot more important,” Star muttered as she groped through her backpack.
She patted down the little leather bag containing the male genitalia Dr. Rackenfauz had manufactured and then presented to her during their last visit to Pickle Lake Castle. The contents seemed to be undamaged.
“What did you say, Star?”
“Oh nothing,” Star replied. “I was just thinking that not all ‘hard times’ are bad ones.”
Winston had no idea what she was driving at, but he also knew that it would be pointless trying to pursue the topic. He glanced up the cliff face to where Ripper stood, watching them.
“I hope we did the right thing with that mech wolf,” he said.
“I just couldn’t let him die,” Star said. “Maybe we’ll need him down the road.”
“I’m just wondering how far down the road it’s going to turn on us,” Winston muttered.
They returned to their work.
32. First Signs
Some days later
The chief acolyte paused to rest at the top of a steep hill. He set down his knapsack and assault rifle, then reached inside the front of his baggy trousers to adjust the position of the tiny, but lethal, handgun concealed there. The metal was warm, slicked with sweat, and very reassuring.
He stretched himself out, twisting like a giant dish rag. Spinal bones snapped back into place.
“Ahhh, that’s better!”
He drained his last water bottle. Thank the Messiah that packaged water was available most places. Every little dump of a town or service station had it – but this was isolated country, and he’d not seen any evidence of former habitation for some time.
No matter, the Heavenly Father would provide for his humble servant. And if He didn’t ... well, then it would be time for the chief acolyte to pass beyond this vale of tears and assume his place at the right hand of the Messiah.
He walked to the edge of the cliff and spread his arms wide, calling out to the emptiness:
“Father, see that I am worthy!”
A lesser man would have given up already, but he would keep going whatever might happen. To die in pursuit of the evil demon spawn would only prove his extreme devotion to the Cause!
His mentality had always been extreme, since long before he’d encountered the Messiah.
During his past life as nondescript Charlie Camp, he’d worked as a salesman – automobiles, office equipment, burial plans – and he’d been good at it until his growing intensity began to frighten customers. He simply came to believe too much in the things he sold and could not understand why anybody would disagree with him. He found himself yearning to strangle anyone who did not comprehend the righteousness of his products and services.
When he’d been fired from his last job, the boss had advised him to: “Go see a shrink.”
Instead, he’d gone to see an illegal arms dealer and purchased a submachine gun which he concealed in a briefcase. He was walking to his former place of employment to ‘teach them a lesson’ when he came upon the Messiah proselytizing on a street corner.
At first he thought it was just some hopped-up kid panhandling for money. He pulled out his wallet, meaning to hand over all his cash. Why not? He wouldn’t need money where he was going. But then the Messiah fixed him with burning, penetrating eyes and reached out a hand.
“Follow me!” he commanded. “Put aside the things of this sinful world.”
Charlie’s conversion to the Cause had been immediate and powerful, an emotional catharsis of almost lethal intensity. The rest was history.
The most blissful period of his life had been spent at Pickle Lake Castle where he’d faithfully executed every one of the Messiah’s commands without hesitation – even up to administering, and taking, the Nectar of Truth. How proud he was that he’d survived that ordeal!
He’d basked in the reflected glory of the Messiah, demonstrating his loyalty, gaining in trust. And then those cursed demon spawn appeared!
Something caught his eye at the bottom of the cliff – car wreckage.
What the hell?
He snatched up his possessions and went down to investigate.