***
For hours, Star led the way along the westward road, kicking hard and building up speed that Winston could barely match. Her hair dried in the breeze until it stuck out awkwardly in all directions. Her damp clothes picked up a layer of dust. Ordinarily, she would have never allowed herself to look so disheveled, but now she simply pressed on and on ...
Winston did not dare to attempt any communications with her. Ripper remained wisely aloof.
36. Psychotic Encampment
The chief acolyte, flanked by Susie and Pam, sat staring into the campfire, contemplating the hell flames that awaited all nonbelievers. Around him sprawled flat, empty desert. Land that had always been desert – even before the once verdant areas were denuded by the plague wars of the demon spawn and their infidel allies.
A thin chorus of insect chirps punctured the dusty air. Off in the darkness, he could hear the bustling of some unknown small animal. Then the flapping of wings and a sharp, terrified squeak.
This had been a day of rapid travel. Hundreds of kilometers had passed beneath the wheels of the white van. According to Brad, they should have arrived at the west coast some time tomorrow. Or rather, Brad and his pals planned to arrive – with “the bitches,” of course, to satisfy their unholy lusts. The outlook for the chief acolyte was a good deal less certain.
But then the van had broken down. All the raging and curses of the infidels could not get it moving again. They were now stranded in this god-forsaken place.
Or maybe the Heavenly Father had not abandoned this locale. Maybe He intended for them to be here. Only time would give the answers.
The chief acolyte shoveled the last of his pork & beans ration into his mouth and chewed carefully. What would the Messiah think of him eating such a repast, flavored by the carcass of an unclean beast?
He’d approve, the chief acolyte was certain. This was an emergency scenario, and he had to keep his strength up, by whatever means available. Four large, powerful young men opposed him, while he was just a scrawny old guy – an eccentric screwball, no threat to anyone.
But this apparent harmlessness was actually his greatest strength. If he could just bring it to bear!
Thy will be done, Father. The chief acolyte prayed fervently.
Since his capture by these infidels, he’d been in a constant state of prayerful watchfulness, hoping to make a move. But he couldn’t make a move. The bastards kept a sharp eye on him, even observing him as he took a leak. Maybe they didn’t think he was so harmless, after all.
And what if he did manage to get his gun out? They’d cut him down with their assault rifles before he could squeeze off a shot.
He gnawed a piece of biscuit and stole a quick glance at the women beside him. They were both terrified, like dogs who had been beaten repeatedly and expected more of the same. He wondered vaguely how long they’d been with this crew. What had these cursed men inflicted on these girls, in addition to the usual rape?
Mostly psychological terror, he decided. For despite their cowed appearance, the girls displayed few indications of physical abuse – except for the bruises on their faces. The chief acolyte was something of an expert on terror, having often inflicted it upon errant Visionists.
Across from them, on the other side of the sputtering fire, Brad and his three cronies were finishing up their beans and biscuits. They hadn’t said much during the meal, they just sat there, rifles in their laps, and wolfed down the food like the animals they were.
Then the ones named Bill and Tom stood up.
“Okay if we get first crack tonight, Brad?” Tom asked.
“Be my fucking guest,” Brad said.
“That’s what we had in mind,” Tom said.
The four gorillas laughed heartily. Brad indicated the assault rifles of Bill and Tom.
“You can leave those here,” he said, “unless you can’t handle the broads without them.”
“Shit!” Bill said.
More crude laughter. Bill and Tom set their rifles down and approached the girls.
“Come on babe,” Tom said, yanking Pam to her feet. “It’s party time.”
“No – ”
A hard slap brought her around. Susie followed Bill quietly into the darkness. Soon, the screams and blows of forcible rape polluted the night air.
“The boys are frisky tonight,” Brad commented.
The chief acolyte remained impassive, staring at the remaining two men across the fire. A wicked little smile crossed Brad’s face. He withdrew a long, thin skinning knife from a sheath on his belt and hefted it experimentally.
He passed the knife over to Andy. They exchanged a devilish laugh.
“Hey old man,” Andy said, “let’s see your nuts.”
“M-my what?” the chief acolyte said.
“Your nuts,” Brad said. “Still got them, don’t you? Or did they shrivel up and blow away?”
Brad and Andy laughed heartily, slapping each others’ knees – like kids at a boy scout camp. The chief acolyte stood up unsteadily and began fumbling with his belt.
“Come on, drop ‘em,” Andy said. “All the way down.”
Outwardly, the chief acolyte was all fumbling, cringing fear, but inside he was joyous.
Thank you, Father, for delivering the barbarians onto me! he exalted.
He began to lower his pants, just enough to grab the little automatic pistol concealed within his underwear. He yanked the weapon out, felt its righteous power throbbing in his hand.
“Filthy heathen!”
He squeezed off a round. The bullet struck Brad dead center in the forehead and exploded, throwing him backwards amid a halo of splattering brains and bone fragments.
Andy gaped wide-eyed at the executioner, unable to react. His mouth formed a horrified circle amid the bloody pulp dripping down his face. The next bullet punctured one of his gaping eyes, and he, too, fell over backwards. The knife tumbled from his hand.
Bill came charging out of the bushes.
“What the hell’s going on?” he cried.
A shot through the heart brought him down.
Then an explosive flash. A bullet ripped across the chief acolyte’s face, sending him reeling backwards. A second bullet whizzed past his ear. Tom emerged from the darkness, aiming his handgun for a third shot.
Umpf!
Tom crashed to the ground, tackled by Pam. The gun tumbled from his hand a short distance away. He groped for it, pulling the girl along with him.
The chief acolyte recovered quickly from his shock and dashed toward the struggling pair. Holding up his pants with his left hand, he kicked Tom squarely in the chin with his heavy right boot.
CRACK!
“Fuck!” Tom cried.
The chief acolyte aimed another kick. The Heavenly Father multiplied his strength.
CRACK!
Teeth flew out onto the ground.
CRACK!
A third kick smashed Tom’s nose into a bloody pulp.
“How’s that, old man?” the chief acolyte mocked.
He secured his pants back into place and zipped the fly with an air of authority.
Tom lay stretched in the dirt, semiconscious. At a gesture from the chief acolyte, Pam released his legs and crouched away. She had never been more frightened in her life, but also savagely aroused – like a shark that senses blood in the water.
The chief acolyte walked a few paces to retrieve the fallen hand gun. Then he returned and shoved Tom onto his back with the toe of boot.
“Uh ...” Tom groaned. “What the fuck happened?”
“It’s party time!” The chief acolyte said brightly.
He raised the handgun and, taking leisurely aim, shot Tom in the guts.
“Uggggh!”
Tom curled into an agony ball. The chief acolyte dropped to his haunches beside the stricken infidel.
“This just ain’t your night, punk,” he said, gesturing toward Bill’s inert form. “You should have checked out quick, like
your buddy over there.”
Susie appeared from the darkness now, gaping with horrified wonder at the carnage and at the writhing figure of Tom. She sank to her knees beside Pam and embraced her.
The chief acolyte rose to his feet and turned a wild, righteous glare upon the women. Flames from the campfire danced in his eyes, the bloody crease on his face throbbed like a brand placed there by the devil himself.
“Do you acknowledge the Holy Messiah as your one, true savior?” he bellowed. “Do you recognize His will as the sole guiding principle?”
The girls exchanged terrified glances, then turned their faces up to the chief acolyte. They nodded agreement.
“Do you accept the deliverance He has provided you this night and subordinate yourselves to me, the Messiah’s representative on earth?”
“Yes,” the girls squeaked.
“Do you commit yourselves totally and unquestioningly to the sacred Cause?”
The girls nodded again. Tortured moans coming from Tom added solemnity to their vow.
“Very well, then.” The chief acolyte held out his hands. “Arise into your new life as believers in the one true faith – Sister Pam and Sister Susan.”
The girls each took a hand and were pulled roughly to their feet.
“Prepare yourselves to depart this unsanctified place,” the chief acolyte said.
“Y-yes, sir.”
The girls moved toward the van to collect their few miserable possessions. The chief acolyte approached the corpses of Brad and Andy.
“Real tough guys, huh?” He spit into their blasted faces. “Good luck with your ‘beach resort’ in hell.”
The knife glittered coldly on the ground beside the bodies. The chief acolyte snatched it up. He nodded approval – the edge had been honed to razor sharpness by somebody who knew what he was doing. It would be a shame to let such craftsmanship go to waste.
Time for a blood sacrifice to honor the conversion of two lost souls to the Cause. The chief acolyte approached Tom, like some fearsome death god stalking through the darkness. The infidel turned his suffering face up toward his doom.
“Fuck, man ... no!” Tom gasped through his broken jaw.
The chief acolyte grinned and stroked the blade lovingly. This was going to be fun.