
# The Fall of Man

### The Saboteur Chronicles

## J.V. Roberts

# Ebook Edition, License Notes

No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, transmitted in any form including: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other means invented otherwise without prior written permission from the copyright owner.

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This book is a work of fiction. All the character names, places, or incidents are fictional. Similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of products that are mentioned in this work of fiction.

Book Title: The Fall of Man: The Saboteur Chronicles

Format: Ebook

Author: J.V. Roberts

@ 2015 by J.V. Roberts

www.jvroberts.com

# Also by J.V. Roberts

The Rabid

Find on Amazon

* * *

The Rabid: Rise

Find on Amazon
**This one is for you, the reader. I hope you are entertained.**

# sab*o*teur

_noun_ : a person who destroys or damages something deliberately

* * *

_synonyms_ : agent, criminal, invader, guerrilla, murderer, terrorist, assassin, villain

# Rebel
# 1

Dominic stood in the shadow of Genesis Tower 2. He removed a waning pack of smokes from his duster. _Damn, last one_. He shook it loose, placed it between his lips, and tossed the empty pack to the ground before striking a match.

The Genesis Towers were twenty stories tall, twin titans of glass and steel. They were connected by a thin metal enclosed walkway, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground; all shine and straight angles, dark mirrors reflecting a brilliant sun. They were direct contradictions to the landscape spread out beneath them; a sea of dust and crumbling idols left over from the old world. As Dominic stood there, contemplating the view, caravans pushed past on either side; men with their mules and their rickety carts of scrap. Two Union soldiers stood at the lobby entrance of Tower 2, rustling the caravan riders, turning things inside out and upside down. The riders seemed used to the routine. They stood back, smoking their cigarettes, waiting for the soldiers to finish and usher them through.

Dominic waited until everything was clear. He approached the checkpoint, arms spread. "Let me save you some time, I'm clean." The cigarette wagged loosely between his lips, sprinkling ash like a salt shaker.

The skinnier and younger of the two soldiers ran his hands across the underside of Dominic's arms and down the sides of his chest.

"What's your business here in Genesis?" the other soldier asked, as if reading from a script, sweat soaked hair peeking in clumps from beneath his black cap.

"Just passing through," Dominic replied, as the hands reached his inner thighs. "Careful, I'm ticklish."

"We're not an inn. We've got a bar inside and the caravans have a market set up in the lobby, but unless you've got family here, there's no getting upstairs or passing the night. Once everything closes down, you're out, we clear?"

"As the morning air," he grinned, pinching the cigarette between his front teeth.

"Alright, get out of here."

The lobby smelled like a considerable pile of shit wrapped in a heavy blanket of musk. It was enclosed by thick walls, gray and water stained. The sun flowing in through the open doors lit the room by day and torches lit it by night. The caravans were spread out in a layered circle. The riders were holding their wares high above their heads, rattling off the finer qualities of each item, along with the accompanying prices, "Cannot be beat I tell you, these prices cannot be beat! Be the envy of Genesis!"

Tower residents were trickling from the stairwells with their coin purses at the ready. They were whispering to one another in excited tones, smiling, pointing; downright giddy at the prospect of exploring an alien land so far below their station.

Dominic slid between the carts and around the riders, doing his best to dodge the wagging heads of the whimpering mules.

"Sir, you seen anything like this?" The rider held out a ragged bouquet of fake flowers; hints of pink and yellow still managed to shine through the muck and mire.

"I have, actually. She was a looker with a deep purse. She used them as a piece for her table, they had a vase too."

"I can get you a vase. In fact, I'll get you two."

"Nowhere to put them," Dominic replied with a shrug.

"Give them to a beautiful lady."

"The only beautiful ladies I know take coin, not flowers."

The rider gave a knowing laugh before zeroing in on his next target. "Ma'am, ma'am, have you ever seen anything like this?"

At the center of the circle there was a single cart. The contents were being sorted by an old man with a long white beard. What little hair he had left atop his head clung to his sunburned scalp in solitary wisps. His hands, like bird talons, gnarled with overgrown fingernails, picked up choice trinkets and balanced them around the outside of the cart atop the weather beaten wood. His head rose slowly as Dominic approached. His eyelids were clumps of rolling flesh that forced him to lift his chin slightly in order to see. "Greetings, I'm still setting up, but you're welcome to browse what I have."

"I'm not here to browse your wares, old man."

"Ah," the relic tugged at the end of his beard, "okay then, okay then, come."

Dominic met him at the back of the cart.

The old man hummed quietly as he pushed pieces of formless metal aside with the backs of his hands. "Ah, yes, here we go." The old man fished a piece of knotted blue cloth from beneath the heap. "Tell me, do we have any admirers?"

Dominic scanned the growing crowd. "Not that I can see."

The feeble fellow began untying the package with surprisingly nimble fingers. "Your employer paid me very well for this package, very well."

Dominic's eyes flashed over his shoulders once more before picking up the silenced pistol. "This is a nice piece." He locked the slide back and checked the magazine; loaded and ready to go.

"These papers will get you upstairs. They won't stand up to scrutiny. But they should be enough to get you in and out."

"Accepted into Genesis; never thought I'd see the day." Dominic smiled and leafed through the dozen or so pages before dropping the booklet into his pants pocket.

"Like I said, don't get too comfortable, you don't want to get caught on the wrong side of the line. Don't let the gloss fool you, they treat their good-for-nothings as shitty as any other hellhole on this god forsaken land; maybe even worse, just cause they got the time and resources."

"Don't worry old timer, getting caught ain't really in my job description."

"And smuggling weapons into Genesis on a mule cart for over-confident bounty hunters wasn't in mine, but alas, here we are."

"And you're a richer man for it."

Dominic turned into the crowd and began moving towards the residential staircase.

Pepper's Pub was located on the fifteenth floor of Genesis Tower 2, just below the resident's quarters. The location was no accident. It was a recipe for profit. A proverbial neon sign buzzing away, attracting the overworked like flies. After the sun fell there was rarely a lull in traffic. The seats were always occupied. The air was always buzzing with conversation and always choked with clouds of thick smoke, while ice cubes played the walls of highball glasses like muffled piano keys. It was a melting pot of the highest and lowest order. The only place in Genesis that never closed. Inside Pepper's Pub there were no hierarchies, no lines in the sand. Everyone had one thing in common; they were there to drink and forget.

Dominic walked through the front door with his broad shoulders and wild hair. A thick scar ran down the right side of his face, splitting the top part of his shallow beard. He was wearing a black duster with a torn tee shirt underneath, a pair of faded jeans, and black boots that hit like hammers. He moved smoothly through the crowd and took the only available seat at the center of the bar.

A pudgy man stood behind the bar wiping glasses out with a grungy towel. "The name is Rudy, what can I get for you?" he asked as he buffed away at a streaky mug, tongue wrapped tight across the front of his teeth.

"Something dark and bitter," Dominic spoke in a low growl.

"That's pretty much all we serve."

"Then I guess I'm in luck."

Rudy set the glass aside. "I guess you are." He twirled another glass up from beneath the bar, letting it slide across the top of his hand and down on to the surface without as much as a rattle.

"Neat trick," Dominic said with an approving nod.

"I've had a lot of practice."

"Looks that way." He glanced around the room at the hustle and bustle. Saxophones and a driving bass line were rising from the jukebox sitting in the far back corner.

"Ice?"

He shook his head. "Leave the water for the ladies."

Rudy chuckled and plucked the stopper from a half-full decanter and began pouring. "Long day?"

"Yeah," he signaled for Rudy to stop, "it's not over yet." He lifted the glass and emptied the contents with one swift flick of his wrist. "Give me another."

Rudy poured again.

He emptied the glass just as quickly.

"Unless you got yourself a cast iron stomach, I'd suggest a little food with that. That's one of the strongest batches we've rolled through here. How about a pork sandwich? They have been breeding them like crazy this year."

"Nah, never developed much of a taste for pork. I could use some smokes. Get me a pack of Blues."

"You really smoke that Outlander shit?"

He shrugged and turned the glass with one hand. "You get used to it."

"The hell you do," Rudy scoffed, "no more than you'd get used to eating shit every day."

"You speaking from experience?" He looked up at Rudy over the tops of his eyelids.

Rudy held his gaze for a moment but quickly gave up and went back to buffing. "We don't carry Outlander shit; liquor and smokes are all from right here in Genesis."

"Color me impressed," he slipped a white book of matches from his pocket and dropped them next to the empty glass. "Give me what you got."

"We got King's and we got Cassie's."

"Whatever, shock me."

Rudy knelt down and rummaged beneath the bar. He came back up with a white cardboard box wrapped in brown twine, the word **_King's_** was stamped across the front. "I figured you'd appreciate the more masculine vibe."

"It's the same shit." He tossed the twine aside, flipped a loosely wrapped stick of tobacco into his lips, and set a match to it.

"Cassie's are more aromatic."

"Aromatic? Genesis Towers, I swear."

"We've got our tastes."

"Your liquor is passable, but this," he held the smoldering cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, studying it with disgust, "I could have rolled a better smoke with dust and air."

"Of course the liquor is good, yours truly is responsible for it." Rudy took a small bow before he returned to his buffing duties. "You ever wonder what they drank and smoked back in the old world?"

He shook his head and blew a gray cloud up towards the rafters. "Not really."

"No imagination, is that it?"

"I like to keep my eyes forward."

"That's not a bad philosophy. What's your name, forgot to ask?" Rudy dried his hand on the towel and extended it stiffly.

He propped the cigarette between his lips and returned the gesture. "Dominic, the name is Dominic."

"Nice to meet you, Dominic. So, I take it you're not from around here?"

"I make it that obvious?"

"It's the coat, can't remember the last time I saw a duster."

"Ah, well, I don't imagine there's much use for it in Genesis."

"Yeah, I don't imagine there is. So, since you're up here, I'm assuming you've got family in Genesis?"

Dominic nodded. "Yeah, an uncle."

Rudy shook his head. "Some uncle, leaving you to rough it in the Outlands."

"It's by choice. I've always had a thing for the great outdoors."

"Better you than me, brother. Give me a roof and a soft bed any day."

"The electricity is a nice change, I'll give you that."

"It's not perfect, it flickers out now and then, but it beats racing the sunlight every day."

Dominic took another drag from the cigarette and slapped the ashes off on the edge of the bar. "So, what's so special about that glass?"

"What do you mean?"

"That glass, you've been going at it with the rag since I sat down."

Rudy held the glass above his head and examined it against the hazy light. "This glass is for one man and one man only."

"Ah, and who might that be?"

"The man above men, the Lord Marshal himself."

"This guy walk on water too?"

Rudy smirked. "Perhaps I was being a bit dramatic, but one thing is for sure, he doesn't like a dirty glass."

"Think I could get another hit of that home brewed shit?" Dominic tucked the book of matches away. "So, what happens if he gets a dirty glass?"

"You never know," Rudy said as he brought the decanter up and poured, "he may break a few things, or he may shut down the bar. Last time, he shut down the bar."

"Sounds like a real hero." Dominic conquered another mouthful of whiskey and stamped the cigarette out.

"Oh, but he is, a real hero," Rudy said with an almost spiritual conviction, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head like a fool.

"Yeah, I've heard the stories, the brave Lord Marshal and his band of merry men, destroyers of the recreant hoard."

"Hey man, cool it with that shit. The wrong ears pick up on that and they'll find a permanent place for you down below. You feel me?"

"You gonna tell on me?" Dominic leaned forward and fixed him with a hard glare.

Rudy shrank away. "Me? What? No! Really, I could give two shits about him or his men... it's just, you know, they've got eyes and ears all over, gotta play along to get along, know what I mean?"

Dominic winked and slapped him on the shoulder. "I appreciate the concern, but I don't plan on sticking around long."

Rudy sighed. "Alright, I tried."

"There is one favor you can do for me, if you're so inclined."

A frazzled man with white whiskers pressed in beside Dominic and grunted for a beer. Rudy popped the top off a brown unlabeled bottle and slid it across the counter without a second glance. "You can ask, I can't promise."

"Fair enough. How about showing me the works? You know, where you make the magic?"

"Our distillery?"

"Yeah."

"The Outland doesn't have distilleries?" Rudy asked incredulously.

"Call me deprived. I'm always moving from place to place, the roses seem to pass me by."

Rudy snorted. "I suppose they do." He looked up and down the bar. "Well, everything seems to be under control here. I suppose I could take you in back for a second and show you the guts of the operation. Just don't go trying to steal my secrets."

Dominic stood, opened his coat, and wiggled his hips. "Want to check me for pen and paper?"

Rudy let loose with a goofy chuckle, he seemed excited by the opportunity to show off his craft. "Come on around."

There was a steel door beside the cash register with a grimy porthole carved in the center. Rudy held it open and ushered Dominic through with a lazy wave of his hand. "Step right up. Prepare to be wowed." Rudy flipped a switch on the wall and the room came to life with a series of electric pops. "Ta-da!"

It wasn't a large room, a little smaller than the bar area. There were rows of oak barrels shelved against the far wall. In the center of the room there were large silver and copper drums with metal tubes running from the top. There were handles and gauges and fat canvas sacks stacked as high as a man.

"This is... something."

"A little more complicated than you imagined, huh?"

Dominic yawned into a closed fist. "Yeah, a little."

"Did you think that drink you were pounding just magically appeared in the bottle? It's over two weeks of hard labor and waiting. Then you want to age it, which is what we use these barrels for." Rudy kicked at one of the shelved barrels with the side of his shoe. "So, what do you do to get by?"

Dominic wrapped his lips around another cigarette and set a match to it. "This and that, mostly contract work."

"Contract work? That sounds vague and exciting. Want to elaborate a little?" Rudy rubbed a hand across the top of one of the barrels, while checking his reflection against the surface of one of the copper drums.

"I do jobs for people; a little of this, a little of that." Dominic leaned back against the wall by the door.

"Sounds like you get around."

"That I do. What about you? You get out beyond the Towers much?"

Rudy shook his head. "Nah, not really, I'm not the adventurous type."

"Not really or never?"

Rudy shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I've been out there before, but I prefer home. You plan on taking me on vacation or something?"

Dominic stubbed his smoke out on the wall. "Where would I take you?"

"It was... I was being sarcastic. Come on, let's get back to the bar, I've got customers."

Dominic held a hand up as Rudy tried to push past.

"Hey now, don't be putting your hands on me, stranger!"

"Answer my question, where would I take you?"

"I don't know where you'd take me. Now take your fucking hand off me, I'm leaving." His previous demeanor, the calm and well mannered bartender, was nowhere to be found.

Dominic got nose-to-nose with him, his hands resting calmly at his sides. "Perhaps I'd take you to Karaville."

Rudy stumbled back, catching himself against one of the barrels. "Karaville?"

"Yeah, you know Karaville, charming little settlement, southwest of here? They attract a fair amount of visitors. They've got a tree, green as can be, sprouting right up out of the ground. It's really a sight to behold. It gives you hope, you know, seeing that little bit of green in the middle of all that brown and gray. I hear the mayor's daughter is a fetching sight as well." Dominic paused and held up a finger, as if remembering an important piece of information. "But wait, you already know that, don't you? I mean, that's why you raped her and tried to bury her outside the fence line, right? Except, the ground was too hard and you were too dumb to try to find another spot, so you left her there and ran."

"Now hold on a minute—"

"She turned you down, didn't she, Rudy? A fat bumbling piece of shit like yourself, you just couldn't take it. Was she nice to you? Was that it? Made you think you had a shot with her?"

"You don't know what the —"

"You're right, I don't know. What I do know, is that you're coming with me. We're going to walk out of here, real quiet like."

Rudy's knuckles crackled like brittle leaves as he wrapped one fist up inside a chubby palm. "You want me? You're going to have to make a hell of a racket getting me."

Dominic pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. See, I'm not too keen on fighting, especially with a burly boy like you. So," Dominic reached inside of the duster and retrieved the black pistol with the suppressor, "I brought this."

Rudy's cheeks went from punch red to paper white. His hands slowly unfurled. "Hey now, you're not allowed to have that inside Genesis."

"And yet, I do."

"How'd you even get that past the front—"

"That doesn't matter. What does matter is the fully loaded magazine and the fact that, if you don't walk out peacefully, I'm going to empty every single bullet into your face. The contract on you says dead or alive. Make the call?"

"You're bluffing."

"No, Rudy, I'm not. If I'm anything, I'm a man of my word."

His shoulders sank as he emitted a sigh of defeat. He approached Dominic with upturned palms.

Dominic grabbed Rudy by the collar and shoved him back through the steel door. He kept a firm grip on him. His other hand kept the pistol concealed just inside his duster, the barrel pressed against Rudy's lower back.

"Come on man, not so rough," Rudy hissed over his shoulder.

"Shut up and keep moving. You're not any safer in here than you were back there, so don't get stupid." Dominic steered him around beer soaked tables and overturned chairs, through lusty whispers and drunken stammers.

"Hey... Rudy... I need ya to fill me up. Where ya goin'?"

"Be back in a second. Feel free to help yourself," he called back.

He was actually going to pull this one off. "Smart, almost there, just keep it moving."

The doorway to salvation darkened. The light streaming across the cement floor extinguished and the crowd went silent.

"Oh, you're screwed now," Rudy said, renewed hope flooding his voice. "It's the Lord Marshal. Man, you're in the shit. Better just let me go."

"You'll be the first one to catch a bullet. Remember the gun, Rudy, remember the gun." Dominic released Rudy's collar, but kept the pistol at his back.

The hulking figure in the doorway stepped forward into the dimly lit bar, his face sliding through shadows: a pockmarked cheek, a silver mane of hair, deep set eyes. He was tall, much taller than Dominic; a human pillar supporting the weight of the room. He wore khaki pants and a tan shirt that hugged his muscular form. He was backed up by a small contingent of men. All wearing puffy leather jackets, dark brown berets, and carrying sub-machine guns strapped across the front of their chests. They moved in sync, staying two steps back from the Lord Marshal, their eyes locked forward, their features hard lines of granite, patiently awaiting his command.

"I come in for a drink and here you are, running out the front door. If I were a more sensitive man, I think I'd be a bit bruised by your untimely exit." The Lord Marshal reached into his pocket and returned with a cigarette. He set it delicately between his lips and snapped his fingers. The soldier over his left shoulder made haste with a light, toasting the end of the smoke as the Lord Marshal sucked eagerly. "You know," the Lord Marshal removed the cigarette from his lips and suppressed a small cough with the back of his hand, "you shouldn't leave the coffers unmanned during business hours."

"I'm sorry, sir. We were just," Rudy looked back nervously over his shoulder, "going to take a break, take in the view on the Sky Bridge."

The Lord Marshal nodded as if it were a perfectly acceptable explanation. "Of course, the dawning of the twilight hours; I can hardly blame you. Who is your new friend? His face is unfamiliar."

"He's an Outlander; he's got family here."

"My name is Dominic," he sniffed and stared past the Lord Marshal. He counted the paces to the exit, then he counted the bodies standing between him and that exit; he had more than enough ammunition to go around.

"Dominic," the Lord Marshal rolled the name around on his tongue like a fine wine, "I don't believe that I know a Dominic. Lieutenant Bates, do I know a Dominic?"

The soldier over his left shoulder shook his head. "No sir, I don't believe that you do."

"Splendid, well then, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Dominic. I'm Lord Marshal Van-Hause. But you may refer to me as Hause. God knows, it's easier on the palette, and we've no need for pageantry here in the Towers."

"Well, alright then." If he could just get a hold of one of those machine guns he'd really be set, he could carve a path straight to the lobby.

"So, what is it you do, Dominic?"

"A little bit of this and a little bit of that."

"Well, I'd imagine that there's a lot of _this_ and _that_ that needs doing in the Outland, get a little more specific with me," Hause's voice was firm. He wasn't asking for answers, he was calmly demanding them.

Dominic sighed. "I bounce around doing odd jobs. Fixing and tinkering. I don't keep a bed or a roof; it's all inn's and elbow grease."

"So you're a handy man?"

"Guess you could say that."

"Boys, we've got a traveling handy man in our presence." The contingent of soldiers didn't react, they didn't move a muscle, their eyes remained straight ahead, and their grips remained firm about their weapons. "Maybe you can show our man Ricky a thing or two. The bastard can barely replace a ceiling tile. I only keep him on because his Daddy jumped on a grenade for me during the war. I figure the least I can do is make sure his boy earns an honest wage."

"Sounds like a pretty square deal."

"No, Dominic, it's not a square deal. Did you not hear what I just said? His dad jumped on a fucking grenade for me. The blast powdered his spine. Can you put a price tag on that?"

"No, Hause, I suppose I can't."

"Damn right you can't." Hause made popping noises with his lips as his eyes jumped back and forth between Dominic and Rudy, deciding on his next target. "So, Rudy, you never told me you had any friends. How is it that you two know each other?" Hause took another drag off his dwindling cigarette and expelled two columns of thick smoke from his nostrils.

"He just came in, needed someone to show him around... we were gonna take in the Sky Bridge and then I was gonna show him over to the apartment blocks."

"He's been a big help to me," Dominic confirmed, without hesitation.

Hause clasped his hands together dramatically. "So, it was fate?"

"Something like that, yeah," Dominic said.

"Well, who am I to stand in the way of fate?" Hause let the cigarette fall. It sparked against the ground right before the heel of his boot stamped it into submission. "But I must insist that you put your field trip on hold. I'm parched, as are my men."

"Yes sir, I was just going to take him—"

"You've got a full house, my boy. You've got empty glasses and no one to fill them." Hause looked around the room as if realizing, for the first time, that all eyes were on him and his men. "There's nothing to see here people, get back to your business." The engine of drunken murmuring slowly revved its way back through the gears. "So, you see, I can't let you leave."

"Sir, let me just take him up and I'll be back down in two shakes." Rudy was starting to lose his composure. His voice creaked like an old house.

"Rudy, I'm not asking you, as your Lord Marshal, I'm ordering you!" Hause caught his temper by the coattails and forced an unconvincing smile. "It's the Sky Bridge. It's not going anywhere."

"Actually, Hause, I've got myself a pretty tight schedule." Dominic crooked his neck and met Hause's eyes with the iciest gaze he could pull together, given the situation. They were walking that tight rope, that little space that divided the calm and the storm. Dominic had been there before. He knew the feeling well, the moment right before the guns were raised. Rudy wouldn't make much of a shield, not against the artillery Hause's men were packing. Those high caliber rounds would strip the meat from his bones in a matter of seconds. The tables wouldn't do much good either. They were thin circles of scrap wood. The rounds would eat straight on through. There was the bar, thick and sturdy. But then there was all that glass to contend with. It'd shred him up nice and quick. He'd have to get back through the steel door, back inside Rudy's distillery. He could make a stand there.

"Well, you'll have to forgive my line of questioning, Outlander, but what schedule could you possibly be speaking of? The sun is setting; it's far too late for you to be leaving the shelter of the Towers. The Sky Bridge, as I stated, isn't going anywhere. I'm sure your uncle is willing to wait just a bit longer for your arrival. So, do tell me, where is it you're so eager to be?" It was a challenge, a verbal chest bump; Dominic felt the prodding in each syllable.

Beads of sweat began forming on the palm of his gun hand, the adrenaline of ensuing confrontation. "I'd rather not get into details."

"Tough shit!" Hause barked. "You're going to divulge details! I'm your Lord Marshal! I'm asking questions and you're going to provide answers!"

Dominic didn't flinch. "I'm not from the Towers. You're just another guy with a gun where I'm standing."

Hause exhaled slowly, pursing his lips. "Your Outlander friend seems to have left his brains in the sand dunes. Listen, Dominic, I'm not sure which rock you've been living under for the past few decades, but there was a war, we won it. So, Towers or no Towers, I am your Lord Marshal."

Rudy held up a pair of rattling hands. "Listen, he just... he doesn't know how it works around here, alright. Give him a break."

Dominic almost felt bad for the guy... almost.

Hause nodded. "Yeah, I'll give him a break, just not sure what kind yet. Pour us a drink Rudy. You," Hause hissed, pointing a finger at Dominic's forehead, "sit your ass down on one of those stools and have a drink with me."

Dominic sucked at his teeth and shook his head. "I've drank my fill for the day. I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

Hause gave a short chuckle and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "You are something, Outlander. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist. Boys, sit his ass down at the bar."

The soldiers at Hause's back moved in quick.

Dominic moved quicker.

He shoved Rudy into their arms and fired three shots into his back.

_Dead or alive. Looks like it'll have to be dead._

The soldiers stutter stopped and raised their machine guns as Dominic rolled across the table at his back. The patrons around the table scattered as Dominic toppled it sideways, glasses of beer and whiskey crashed to the floor. The bullets ripped into the wood and tore it to pieces around his head. He scrambled up to his feet and retreated towards the bar. He slipped and slid towards his target, blind firing to cover his ass. He slammed into the bar at full speed and rolled up and over to the other side as high caliber rounds mangled the liquor shelf above his head. Shattered glass and dislodged whiskey poured down on top of him. The firing squad drummed away on the other side of the room as he crawled across the floor on his hands and knees. He could hear the patrons screaming as they fled the battlefield.

He was almost to the edge of the bar.

Almost to the steel door.

Just a few more feet.

There was a muzzle waiting for him at the corner of the bar counter. He saw it as he was about to break cover. He reached and grabbed and pulled. The rifle was strapped across the soldier's chest; the force took him straight to the ground. The soldier reached and clawed, desperate to correct his mistake. It was no use. Dominic already had his pistol planted against the man's throat. He squeezed the trigger and blew the back of his neck out.

Dominic rolled from cover and dragged the sagging body on top of his own, back to chest. He gripped the machine gun in both hands and used the corpse to stabilize his fire. The men that had been lying in wait scattered, tripping across tables and chairs as Dominic strafed the room with gun fire. Hause ducked down by the front door, his pistol out of its holster, watching the commotion with a look of excitement as bullets embedded themselves just above his head.

When the magazine clicked empty, Dominic let the weapon slide from his grasp and began pushing backwards on the floor with his heels, using the dead soldier's body to shield against the incoming volleys of gunfire. Bullets splashed into the corpse, blood flew into the air in great spurts, like crimson oceans smashing against a rocky shoreline; the waves came down and splashed across Dominic's face, blinding him. The salty liquid invaded his mouth, his nose, and oozed into his ears. He frantically wiped it away as he continued pushing backwards under the storm of lead. The top of his head hit the door and he felt it give way. He pushed harder, slithering back, further and further, holding on tight to his disintegrating shield. When he had the upper half of his torso inside the distillery he let go of the soldier's body and rolled backwards into cover, letting the door swing shut as bullets crunched into the metal and blew the porthole out, sprinkling the floor with glass. He crawled towards the barrels of whiskey, stood, and began pulling them from the shelf. His breathing was labored and his heart pounded in his ears as he dropped down behind the tottering whiskey barrels.

He checked the magazine on the pistol.

_Eight rounds left._

He'd been there before. Outmanned and outgunned. He should've died a thousand times over. He'd prepared himself for the moment. That's the one advantage he had over the men he faced. Most of them hadn't shaken hands with the reaper.

The last of the gunfire died and he could hear the expended brass shuffling against the floor as the soldiers closed on his position. They weren't the stealthy type. They moved like migrating oxen, heavy and determined. Dominic pushed up and took a knee behind the barrel, resting his gun across the wooden lid, setting his sights on the door, waiting for the first head to emerge from the swinging barrier.

"Dominic, my friend, you alive in there?" Hause's voice sounded alarmingly close.

"I'm still kicking."

"Those are some pretty fancy moves you've got. You're about the handiest handy man I've ever seen."

"It's how I keep the customers coming back." Dominic wiped a line of sweat from his brow and readjusted his elbows; his arms were starting to tingle.

"So, tell me something Outlander, where'd you get your training?"

"Not sure what you mean."

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean."

Dominic switched knees. "Are we going to do this or not?"

"Do what?" Hause sounded mystified. "We're just talking."

"No, you're biding time while you get your men set up to overrun my position. I'm one man, what are you worried about? Let's get it done."

"You're a soldier, aren't you? I can tell."

"Right now I'm a guy with a loaded gun and his back against a wall."

"You've got that ice flowing through your veins, that emptiness behind your eyes. You're not holding on to anything because you've seen how quickly it can all be stripped away. Yeah, you're a soldier."

Dominic thought he could see a shadow moving under the door, he removed the slack from the trigger as he readjusted his aim. "Uh-huh, anything else?"

"You fought in the war, didn't you, with the rebels? You weren't one of my boys, that is for damn sure."

There was shuffling on the other side of the wall to his left.

Glass crunching.

Bottles being pushed off shelves.

He kept his eyes on the door. One way in. One way out.

"So who'd Rudy piss off?"

Dominic knew Hause was biding his time. Making sure all of the cards were in his possession before he made his play. "He got my drink order wrong. I'm particular about my whiskey."

"So, you're contracting out? Plying your trade? I wish you'd have come to me. I've got plenty of work for a man with your skill set."

"I'm not really partial to those uniforms."

"No, you don't strike me as the infantry type."

There was a hard knock against the other side of the wall. "You planning on hammering through?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Dominic heard the explosion. Felt the heat against his face. Something heavy hit him in the side of the head. And then everything went black.

# 2

Dr. Blake Scroggins stood at the back of the crowd, his arms were wrapped across his chest and his palms were sweaty. The tips of his fingers dug into his biceps and left pale imprints across the dark flesh. The wind was swift, blowing in from the craggy valley below and kicking red dust up and over the tops of his shoes. The sun blazed away overhead. The thin film of neon colors blanketing the sky did little to alleviate the wretched heat that was beating like a hot iron against the top of his skull.

The crowd was growing restless beneath the sweltering sun. They stood on the tips of their toes and wedged themselves between one another, all trying to get the best view of the show taking place near the edge of the Scar, a sheer faced cliff sporting a multi-hundred foot, fog covered drop, ending on a floor of jagged rock.

Mother stood beneath a gnarled tree towards the edge of the cliff, her white robes dragging the ground and cutting shallow paths in her wake as she paced back and forth. To her left and right stood her personal guard; her sons, Zach and Toby.

She stopped pacing and held up a hand.

"Mother speaks!"

"She speaks, quiet!"

"Speak to us, Mother!"

"Children of the Creator, we are gathered here under the command of our Father, the maker of all, to carry out a sacred ritual."

"Blessed be the Father!"

"Praise Him!"

"I love you, Mother!"

She raised her hand again, hush immediately followed. "Our Father has commanded us to be good stewards of this new world. We do that, first and foremost, through multiplication. When He cleansed the old world with fire he did so because we, His children, had cast aside that commandment. We cast it aside in the name of our own selfish desire. In the end it cost us, dearly. But though the price of our sin is high and the times we live in desperate, we need not fear. Together, you and I, we will root out the Curse from among our people and destroy it, for His glory!"

The roar of the crowd hit Blake like a lead blanket.

"We will follow!"

"We are with you, Mother!"

At the edge of the Scar a young man and woman stood, trembling, naked, bound, and blindfolded. The heels of their bare feet hung precariously over the valley floor. Mother approached them, slowly. She leaned in, sliding her head left and right as she observed their naked, quivering forms. She reached out and cupped one of the woman's heaving breasts while her other hand latched on to the man's testicles. The man winced. The young girl recoiled, almost plummeting backwards over the ledge. Mother steadied her. "Not just yet, dear," she said. "The Curse is so strong, so deceptive. Look at these two. They appear to be healthy breeders, strong vessels. Notice the droop of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the hips, they're hips built for breeding." Mother moved her hand down the young girl's torso, leaving red stripes with her fingernails as she came to rest on her left thigh.

Blake averted his eyes, a familiar tightness taking hold in his chest.

"Mother, please," the girl choked, the blindfold catching her tears, "if you'd just give us mercy, we're sorry. Please, we're so sorry."

Mother placed a finger to the girl's lips. "Hush now, child, He still has plans for you."

Blake's breaths came shorter and faster. The sweat from his brow slid into his eyes, stinging and blinding him. He needed a drink, but his water skin hung empty at his side. He wanted to go home; back to his wife, his daughter, his practice.

Mother turned back towards the devout swarm, with their awe struck faces, their tongues hanging from their mouths, drooling like stupid mutts. She approached slowly, deliberately, savoring the attention. Zach and Toby readied themselves to defend her against any overzealous disciples.

"Mother!"

"Mother, we love you!"

Her red mouth curled into a smile and she once again silenced them with a flick of her wrist. "Who among you witnessed this man and woman take the covenant twelve months ago?"

_Lies; it'd only been eight._

"I did, Mother!"

"I was there!"

Mother nodded with approval. "Let it be noted that their union was witnessed by our Father and by man." Mother took another step forward. Her platinum blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight. Her eyes broke out like silver moons against a midnight sky. She stood on the tips of her toes, searching the faces before her. Blake shrank down; he'd been dreading this moment. "Doctor Blake Scroggins, come, stand beside me."

Heads turned. Hands pressed at his back. They shuffled him forward, greeting him with unwelcome smiles of recognition. The bile rose further in his throat with each beaming face and each shout of adoration.

"Brother Scroggins!"

"It's a fine day, brother, a fine day!"

"Bless you, bless your work!"

Mother watched his approach. He emerged from the front of the crowd and straightened his glasses across the bridge of his nose. "Mother," his greeting was barely a whisper, a raspy and choked one at that.

"Doctor, why do you hide?"

"I, well," his top lip shimmered, his bottom lip trembled. He dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. "I've been to so many of these I, well, I didn't want to hog space."

"Nonsense, Doctor, nonsense. You're a vital tool in the hand of our Father. Were it not for your work we could not root out the Curse. I expect you to be up front and present during each Fall. No more of this hiding in the back. It sends the wrong message. Am I understood?"

He nodded, wringing his hands together, the inside of his mouth like sandpaper.

Her eyes danced back and forth in their sockets as she studied his face, the tip of her pink tongue running a circuit around her lips. "My dear Doctor, you look simply frightful. Is everything okay?"

He wanted to charge past her and leap from the edge of the cliff, he could put an end to the nightmare, and pray that he woke up before he hit the bottom. "I'm fine. It's the sun. I'm afraid I was a bit overeager on the hike in and ran my water skin dry."

"Oh well, why didn't you say so? We can't have you going faint on us. Toby, bring me your skin, the Doctor is thirsty."

Toby didn't hesitate. He shuffled across the small expanse of dirt with his rifle propped up on one shoulder and shoved the skin of water against Blake's chest, causing a few droplets to splash across his arms. "Here you go, Doc. Drink up."

Blake's stomach lurched at the thought of swapping spit with the black-gummed, gap-toothed Toby. "No, I think I'm—"

"Drink!" Mother snapped.

Toby wiggled the tattered skin back and forth in front of his face with a mean-spirited little giggle. Damp fingerprints dotted the pale brown body. The mouthpiece was dark and wet, marred by teeth indentions; Blake could smell the unpleasantness. His eyes went from Mother to Toby, trying to find mercy.

There was none.

Blake sighed and reached for the skin. Toby released it into his custody and stood back to watch the show, arms crossed, a satisfied little grin pulling at his mouth. Blake bared his teeth as he parted his jaws, refusing to make contact with the disease ridden thing. He held his breath as the sour water cascaded down the back of his throat. He tightened his muscles and forced himself to swallow, trying to subdue his gag reflex. No use. He coughed violently and pitched over at the waist, strings of mucus dangling from his nose and mouth.

Toby cackled and was joined by a few rogue jeers from the crowd.

"That's quite enough," Mother snapped, grabbing the water skin from Blake and slapping it against Toby's chest.

Toby shrugged and marched back to his post, raising an arm to the crowd in exchange for a weak applause.

Mother lifted Blake up under one arm and held his face close to hers. "Better?"

He nodded, afraid to speak, afraid of covering her face with the bile sitting at the back of his throat.

"Good. I don't expect that we'll have any more problems going forward, will we?"

He shook his head, breathing in deep through his nose.

"Good, that's good," her voice was hushed, "they depend on you nearly as much as they depend on me. They need to see you. Your conviction is their conviction. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother, I understand."

"Praise Him! Now, go, make the declaration." She stood aside to let him pass, her hands folded at her waist.

Blake swallowed hard and started towards the couple. Time slowed. The wind sprang up hard and fast from the valley and played a high pitched timbre in his ears. The sand crunched underfoot, announcing his approach, the drum call of the executioner. Toby slapped the barrel of his rifle against his palm like a jailer's baton as he passed.

"Doctor Scroggins," the man, arms bound at his back, leaned forward as the words toppled from his lips, "please, help us!"

"Back, now!" Zach charged in, jabbing the man in the chest. "You let Doc do his work and you keep your mouth shut!"

The man whimpered and scooted backwards, head down, shaking. "Please, Doctor," the man said pitifully, his lips pressed together, his voice barely registering above the valley breeze, "we just need a little more time."

"Hush, there's nothing I can do for you, you're just making it worse." Blake made a show of running his hands over the man's chest and down his torso, checking the width of his hips, and the droop of his testicles, lifting them in his palm and tilting his head as if truly examining them for any obvious deficiencies. "I am sorry. All I can promise you is that the quieter you are and the less you resist, the easier it will go for you and your woman." Blake stood, looked to Mother, and nodded, verifying that the man was without physical defect. He then made his way over to the female.

"It's okay honey, it's okay," the man called to her.

Blake surveyed the young woman's body, cupping her breasts and checking her genitals in the least invasive manner the task set before him would allow. He had to put on a show for the crowd, for Mother. But he took no pleasure in it, no liberties. The woman didn't speak. She just wept softly. Her shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath. Blake was thankful for her silence, thankful that he didn't have to face down her desperation. He finished the examination quickly. A rush job if there ever was one. Mother didn't seem to notice. If she did, she didn't protest.

_Just keep it together. It's almost over._

He stood and held his breath. He shut his eyes. Everything vanished, if only for a moment. He was home, with his wife, his clinic, with his daughter shifting toys across the floor while he sat back in his favorite chair and watched with a cool drink in his hand.

"Doctor Scroggins, your declaration, please," Mother's voice ripped him from the shore of his oasis.

He collected his wits, cleared his throat, and began the declaration. "Before our Father and our esteemed Mother, I declare these two fit to multiply. I have followed their union closely over the past twelve months and I declare that there are not, nor have there ever been, any physical or spiritual ailments that would have kept them from conceiving and bearing children. I declare that it is only the Curse that has left them barren. I declare this before our Father and our Mother, may my soul be forever judged."

"I recognize the authority of this declaration," Mother replied.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one in particular.

Mother turned to the crowd. Her hands held high. "Let the Fall commence!" She rolled her hands into fists and pumped her arms.

The congregation joined her, gnashing their teeth, hungry. They began to chant.

"The Fall!"

"The Fall!"

"The Fall!"

When Blake made it back to the front of the crowd he dutifully turned to watch Mother. He did his best to block out the noise, to ignore the pats on the back and the praise.

Mother took her place between the couple, her back to the valley, her robes whipping wildly about her legs. "Our Father has spoken. The Declaration has been made. It is His judgment that we carry out here today. Not our own. Do the Cursed have any final words they would like to say?" Mother turned her head to each of them as Toby and Zach approached.

"Mother, please, mercy? Kill me, but please, not her." The man fell to his knees and began crawling towards Mother's feet. He was met by Toby's steel toed boot. He collapsed back on to his bare ass, his nostrils spraying carnage.

"You should beseech the Father for mercy." Mother stood before the woman. "Do you have any last words, sweet child?"

The naked woman rattled like a sheet on a clothesline, her pale skin was littered with purple bruises and lacerations, evidence of the torture she'd endured. "Father, hear me in my time of need. Be not far from me. Cast not your eyes from me. Shelter me from harm, for you know my heart. You know the truth."

Mother brought her hand to the girl's cheek, using her thumb to brush away the moisture beneath her eye. "You've got the right idea." Mother brandished a three-inch knife and slid the blade, upside down, into the girl's lower abdomen, just above the pubic bone. The girl gasped as the cold steel broke her flesh. She hurled forward and cried out in pain, her chin resting across the top of Mother's right shoulder. "Hush, child, it's almost over." Mother jerked the blade up and pushed in deeper, slicing through the muscle wall. Up some more, through the belly button, and then she stopped. Blood flowed steady down the girl's legs and feet, where it then mixed with the dust. "It's over now child. It's over. No more pain." Mother withdrew the blade and stood aside to face the crowd again, propping the girls sagging body up beside her. "Behold! The womb of the cursed!" The wound yawned and the girl's eyes rolled back in her head as the color drained from her face.

Blake kept his eyes pointed straight ahead. He stared through the horror, at the waves of heat rising from the winding valley. He could feel Mother watching him, inspecting him, ensuring that he was setting the example and not hiding from the spectacle.

As the girl rag-dolled Mother stepped to the side and let her body roll away over the cliff. She turned towards Toby and nodded.

The naked man was curled in a ball, his knees fastened against his chest, wailing over the demise of his fallen spouse. Toby kicked him hard and uncurled him, then he kicked him again, ushering him towards the edge. "Over the side, come on."

"My... angel... beautiful angel..."

"Yeah, you're about to see her. Maybe you both can grow wings and fly off into the sunset. Come on, don't make this hard." Toby kicked him again.

The man groaned and rolled once more.

"Fall!" someone shouted from the crowd.

"Fall! Fall! Fall!"

"Get on with it!" Mother shouted.

Toby cocked his leg and gave the next kick everything he had.

The man's body left the ground and disappeared from view.

Mother gave a curt nod of approval, "His will has been done."

"It is done!"

"Praise Him!"

_Yeah... praise Him..._

Blake turned and pushed through the crowd, back towards the settlement, back towards something that resembled sanity.

Back towards home.

# 3

Dominic was suspended by his arms in the center of an unfamiliar room. The tips of his toes brushed against the sandy ground as he swung back and forth, trying to get a read on his surroundings. The air smelled of damp earth. The room was complete darkness except for the faint orange glow spilling through the barred window of the door in front of him. His head was pounding. His memory was corrupted. He remembered shooting Rudy and the gunfight that followed, he remembered Hause's voice and then the explosion. After that, everything became much choppier.

Long hallways of white light.

Bumping down winding staircases that felt is if they'd never end.

The heavy chains being locked around his wrists.

It was all a fever dream.

There was a wild draft of air coiling the length of his body. They'd stripped him of everything; his weapons and his clothes, every last article. It was the only set of clothes he owned and he'd grown partial to that coat.

A ring of keys sang in the lock. The hinges on the door groaned as it slowly sank backwards away from its frame and into the shadows. Light slid across the floor like a toppled bucket of golden paint. Hause sauntered into the room carrying a torch. He dropped the torch into a metal holder on the wall. It bathed their surroundings in a steady flicker of flame. He approached Dominic with his hands on his hips. "We are three-hundred feet below the surface," Hause said, like some enthusiastic first day tour guide. "Can you feel it, everything sort of... pressing in? The quiet? I come down here to unwind sometimes, to set my mind straight."

The pain in Dominic's head kicked up hard and fresh as Hause's voice bounced about the empty room, scratching at his eardrums. "Looks like you forgot the electricity."

"Why waste the juice? Those that end up down here are hardly deserving of such creature comforts."

"Yeah... well, fuck you too, Hause."

"You're not quite as quick witted now that you don't have a gun in your hand."

"Let me down, I'll be back to form in no time."

"Hmm, not just yet." Hause stood before him with crossed arms, staring at a point just below his neckline. "I knew you were a soldier. But I have to admit, when I saw that tattoo, even I was a little taken back."

Dominic closed his eyes and dropped his head. He'd forgotten all about the tattoo. Damn thing had been there long enough. It was like a foot, something that remained far from his mind until he stepped in shit or stubbed his toe. But that was it. He was done. Sure, he could buck and scream, or even beg for mercy. He'd seen plenty of men do it. Had seen plenty of men go out like infants, all snotty and teary as they bled out through their bellies. That wouldn't be him. It was a hell of a thing to be going out naked and chained to a ceiling, but he wouldn't let them have the last little bit of dignity he'd managed to store away over the years.

"Are you going to say anything? Beg and plead? Tell me it's not yours? That you got drunk on too much whiskey and some cunt with big tits and a forked tongue marked you up while you were sleeping?"

Dominic shook his head. "No, what would be the point? You've seen it. You know who I am. Do what you've gotta do, Hause."

"You were a Saboteur, correct?"

"You tell me?"

The tattoo was a series of swirling chain links, weaving up and around his neck and shoulders, and down across the middle of his chest. Hooked around a single link on the bottom, perfectly positioned between his pecs, was a large anchor.

"I thought we'd put the last of your kind to the rope."

"I guess you miscounted."

"That we did. That we did. Tell me; were you at the Battle of the Valley?"

"Sounds familiar." Every man that fought through that battle, and lived, remembered it. The Rebels had been ambushed. The Union boys had held the high ground, exclusively. They'd shot down on him and his unit like they were fish in a dusty ass barrel. When the ammo went dry it became blade against blade and skin against skin. It was ugly business. He'd escaped death the same way every other smart man in history had, he'd run.

"We gave you a proper pounding that day. We teach that one in history classes now, 'The battle that sealed victory for the Union and scattered the Rebel hoards.' "

Dominic nodded. "Well, it was something; you people always did have a thing for mass slaughter. Pity there was no civilians there for you to rape and pillage. I'm sure your men were disappointed."

"You truly are a sore loser. We had the numbers and the supplies. It was only a matter of time."

"You may be right."

"We both know I am." Hause ran his fingers across the inky links of chain decorating Dominic's chest. "You and your men struck fear into almost every Union soldier under my command."

"Let me guess, every Union soldier except for you?"

"But of course, I am their Lord Marshal. What sort of leader would I be if I trembled at a bunch of ghosts?"

"A smart one."

Hause's fingers coiled around Dominic's throat. "Do you remember the destruction of Vector Fort?"

"Of course, I led the breach," Dominic gagged as the fingers around his throat grew tighter, "I laid the charges."

"My brother was in that building when it came down!" His spittle washed across Dominic's face.

"Guess that makes us about even," Dominic managed, even as the fingers grew tighter. Dominic's eyes bulged from his head. His lips grew numb. The sound around him shrank away as he struggled for air. The pulse in his neck began to weaken. Then, without ceremony, Hause let go and shoved him away like a punching bag. Dominic coughed and spit and dug his toes into the dust as he struggled to stop the swinging motion that threatened to rip his shoulders from their sockets.

Hause walked towards the torch with his hands clasped at his back, his shadow stretching across the ground, a black specter dancing in an orange doorway. "It took ten, maybe even twenty, Union boys to match one of you... Saboteurs," his voice managed to drip with disgust and respect simultaneously.

"Is this your plan, to compliment me to death?" Dominic's voice was still raspy from the throttling he'd taken.

Hause stared silently for a few seconds into the torchlight before speaking. "So, you're still plying your trade? Selling your abilities to the highest bidder?"

"Something like that."

"And I suppose you've got a good reason for killing the only man in Genesis capable of mixing a decent drink?"

"I didn't shoot him until you and your men forced my hand. The bounty said dead or alive, I tried alive, it didn't work out."

"Who drew up the bounty?"

"Mayor of Karaville."

Hause shook his head. "Not familiar with the man. Anyway, continue?"

"Your drink mixing savant raped and murdered the mayor's daughter, cut her up, dumped her body out in the open for everyone to see."

"Did he? Hmm, he always struck me as a rather even tempered man. Couldn't keep a clean glass to save his life, but even tempered."

"Just don't turn him down for a date."

"If what you say is true then I suppose I should be thanking you. The last thing we need in Genesis is a rapist. I can't stand them; such low creatures."

"I seem to remember your soldiers being quite fond of rape."

"Ah, such fantasies."

"I do have a big imagination, or so I've been told. You wanna thank me by unlocking these chains and letting me walk out that door?"

"Not a chance," Hause said, without hesitation. "But I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to kill you."

"Baby steps; let's not rush to any decisions."

"Oh, no, not rushing. I mulled this over long before I walked through that door. And I think that I've come up with two different options for you. Shall we have a look at them?"

If they were going to take the knife to him he'd rather they just get it over with. But now Hause was attaching the strings and forcing him to dance. What choice did he have? "Let's get on with it."

Hause clapped his hands twice and footsteps sounded in the torch lined hallway beyond the open door. Dominic could see two shadows forming on the wall, one smaller than the other. The first figure that appeared was monstrous. He had to duck to get through the doorway. He was covered up from head-to-toe. A black leather mask was wrapped across his face with only holes for his mouth and eyes. A long black robe flared out at the top of his neck and flowed down across the tops of his black boots. He carried a spiked hammer at his side as if it were a bundle of flowers, swinging it to-and-fro with ease. His bloodshot eyes washed hungrily over Dominic's naked form.

The second figure was a much more pleasant sight to behold, one with pale green eyes and cropped blonde hair that dropped down in white spikes across her forehead. She wore quilted leather pants, with blue stripes down the sides, tucked inside tan combat boots. Her black tactical vest rode just above her hips and exposed just the slightest bit of sun kissed skin above the waist line of her pants. A black pistol was strapped across her thigh. Extra magazines were tucked away in her vest. Two black, fixed blade, combat knives were sheathed on either hip. She wasn't a tall woman by any means. But her straight backed posture, and the array of weapons she wore, gave her a sort of quiet ferocity.

"He doesn't look like much," the woman said.

"Hey, lady, I'm a grower. Just give me a chance."

She sneered and looked to Hause. "A waste of time, I don't know what you're thinking with this one. We don't need him."

Hause looked over the roadmap of scars running zigzags across Dominic's body. Each one told a different story: a battle won, a battle lost, men he'd killed, men that had tried to kill him. "That tattoo says we need him."

"A tattoo? There are plenty of guys here with tattoos."

"They don't have that tattoo, my dear. They are not Saboteurs."

"Should I be impressed?"

"They were before your time, but yes, you should be impressed." Hause walked across the room and stood beside Dominic. He leaned in close and extended a hand towards the two newly arrived guests. "That is Lerah," he said, gesturing towards the woman as she crossed her ankles and leaned back against the far wall, staring with contempt. "She is a Shadeux, one of the best."

"Maybe I missed something while I was wandering the wastes, but what is a Shadeux?"

"The unit hasn't been around very long. They're our elite. Depending on which road you choose to take, perhaps Lerah will be able to explain more to you."

"Don't hold your breath," she mumbled, while staring at the backs of her nails.

"That big gentleman, looking at you like you're his supper, is Loviatar."

"That's an interesting name. Mind if I just call you Love? Big Love _,_ maybe? How about the Hammer _?_ That's pretty manly."

Loviatar growled and pounded at his chest with a meaty fist.

"No? Well, alright then."

"Loviatar means Goddess of Death _,_ in Finnish," Hause continued.

"Goddess? Is he even Finnish?"

"No, he's not Finnish."

"I bet that confuses the hell out of people when you try to explain it. Then again, you're probably not a guy that gets asked a whole lot of questions, are you?"

"Let me smash his head!"

"Yes, please, let him?" Lerah begged, her hands tucked beneath her chin.

"That's not very nice, you barely know me," Dominic frowned at her.

"I'm hoping to keep it that way."

Hause waved Loviatar off. "So, Saboteur, these are your two options. As I stated earlier, I've got some very important work that could use a man with your particular abilities. You would be working with Lerah. It's not dissimilar from the work you're doing now. It pays well, and we both know how much you like your coin."

"That I do."

"The other option is that me and Lerah leave you here with Loviatar and his hammer. What he does with it, well, that's up to him."

"Oh, boy, this is a tough one."

"Just bash his brains in so we can go home." Lerah kicked off the wall and turned towards the door.

"Choose now, or I'll let Lerah choose for you." Hause had started an invisible countdown.

Dominic's eyes walked up Lerah's legs and across her leather clad ass. "Well, I've always had a thing for difficult women.

# 4

He stayed the night in Genesis. The following morning his clothes were delivered to him, cleaned and pressed. They looked newer and smelled fresher than they ever had, which wasn't saying much considering he'd stolen them from a corpse. He was given time to clean up and dress before being escorted by a small contingent of armed soldiers to Hause's office.

The Office of the Lord Marshal was located on the top floor of Tower 1. Tower 1 was dedicated purely to military personnel and operations. Climbing the winding column of narrow stairs was an adventure all its own. It rose through the center of each floor like a spinal column made of metal. The outer layer of each floor looked the same on the outside; a narrow landing with three sets of doors. On the other side of those doors were winding halls of barracks, offices, classrooms, and countless other moving parts that made up the left hand of the vertical society. Workers and soldiers, both men and women, pressed themselves against the railings as Dominic passed them by. They eyed his scruffy, scarred up face with suspicion. The soldiers at his back didn't push him along, but they didn't let him slow down either. They stayed exactly two steps behind him, their heavy black boots crashing in time against the grated floor.

Once on the top floor Dominic was met by a pair of towering wooden doors, accented by intricate black brass inlays. It was far more extravagant than anything he'd passed on the journey up. The four soldiers that had served as his escort lined up across the walls running off either side of the doors. They didn't speak. They gave him no instruction. They just stood and stared.

Not at him.

Past him.

Through him.

Just robots waiting for a command.

"So, I guess I'll just... knock?" He wasn't really asking for direction as much as permission. He didn't feel like catching a bullet. He'd killed one of their own last night and knew some of them had to be itching for it.

He approached the large door with big dramatic steps.

The soldiers didn't twitch.

Before he could knock the lock released, heavy and metallic. The doors peeled backwards. Standing there, gripping one of the handles, was Lerah, still dressed in her quilted leather pants and wearing her bullets and blades. She met his presence with the same contemptuous glare. "Ah, it's you."

"And you." He winked.

She rolled her eyes. "Close the door, you're letting a breeze in." She sauntered back towards the center of the room as he stepped inside and the doors slammed home.

Hause's office was made up of one grandiose display after another. Ornate marble rose up on all four sides of the room and met with a domed, gold plated ceiling, complete with a multi-colored engraving of a glorious battle raging against a luminous skyline; dark clouds of discharged gunpowder filled the air, generals in gaudy hats swung glinting sabers from atop their well muscled steeds, and the fallen bodies of defeated foes lined the muddy ground. One wall was lined with towering, hand polished bookshelves. They were twice as high as any man and packed end to end with thick volumes of literature documenting the rise and fall of the old world, military strategies, and family lineages. Another wall held unfamiliar pieces of art, encapsulated in thick metal frames, plated with shiny gold. There were glass display cases filled with antiquated weaponry and documents of flaky unreadable parchment. At the center of the room there stood a table, as long as it was wide, lined around the edges with black leather and encircled by high-backed chairs. Beyond that there was a desk, bearing the same leather trimmings as the table. Inlayed across the front of the desk was a black brass flag with three stripes and a single star in the upper right hand corner; the Union flag.

"Hell of a spread." Dominic turned circles towards the table, staring up at the ceiling, taking everything in. "I didn't think places like this still existed."

"The Lord Marshal will be back soon. Until then, feel free to read or wander around and salivate some more." She kicked her feet up on the table and removed the pistol from the holster clasped around her thigh. She ejected the magazine and locked the slide back. She held it up to the light, twisting and turning it before her eyes, examining it the way a mechanic might examine an engine after popping the hood.

Dominic sat down across from her and propped his elbows on the table. "Perhaps I'll just sit and talk to you."

"Conversation requires a two way commitment."

"You don't like me, do you?"

"You're perceptive."

"And why is that?"

"Aside from you coming into my home and shooting the place up?" She set her gun on the table and removed one of the blades from her belt, examining the edge.

"I didn't know it was exclusively yours."

"I'm a third generation resident. I'm Union through and through. I've sworn my life to Genesis, just like my father did, and his father before him. What do you know of loyalty?" She turned the knife over in her hand and flared her eyes at him.

Dominic wasn't shaken by her intensity. "I don't reckon I know a whole hell of a lot."

"Yet, you fought for the Rebels."

"It was a paycheck; three hots and a cot."

"You kill for money and a meal?"

"Well, the money buys the meal, but for the sake of simplicity, yes, I do."

"So you believe in nothing? You fight for nothing?"

"I believe in money. I fight for money... sometimes for fun... but mostly for money."

"You don't deserve to wear that mark on your chest."

"That's what I told them when they were putting it on me." He sat back and crossed his arms.

"You should have just let Loviatar bust your empty head."

Dominic stood and leaned forward. "Do it now little lady, let's save the dance."

Before she could act on his invitation the doors flew open and in walked Hause. "Lerah, I see you're entertaining our guest."

Lerah came to attention. "I cannot work with this man, sir. He's a mercenary, a man without honor, an enemy of our people. As an officer of the Union, sir, as a Shadeux, I must object to placing myself beside him on the field of battle."

Dominic laughed and slumped back into his chair. "My god, you're so dramatic _._ There's no battle going on outside these walls; just desperate times and desperate people. I know it's tough to see all that from your ivory tower. Not to mention, the Union talking about honor? That's rich."

"Children, relax, take a deep breath. We will make this work. We must make this work." Hause sounded like a father trying to break up a pair of toddlers tussling around on the living room floor. He was bent across his desk, sorting through mounds of paper. "Let me see, it's somewhere here... ah, there we go." Hause emerged from the mess with a large piece of parchment now attached to his hand.

Lerah reluctantly took her seat and the room went quiet.

Hause approached the table and placed the paper between them, doing his best to smooth out the wrinkles. "I really should be taking better care of this, it's the only copy that we have." The paper rose and fell against the tabletop, a trapped pocket of air slowly seeping from the center of the document.

Dominic and Lerah both stood to get a better view. Dominic immediately recognized what it was. It was the country, post war. Most of the page was blank, except for the very center, the small slice of land the Union had managed to discover, or rediscover, as it were. Within that small patch of familiar settlements, landmarks and roads were marked. And right there, in the center of it all, were the Genesis Towers.

"It's a slow process, but this is what we've managed to map with the men and resources we have available," Hause said.

Dominic just nodded his head, uninterested. "So you need me for what? Am I translating maps?"

"Nope," Hause said, "you're not translating maps. But we'll get to that. Let's all be seated."

The room filled with the sound of squeaking chair legs and shifting leather.

"So, Dominic, aside from our little incident yesterday, how've you been finding the accommodations?"

"Better than sleeping on a pile of straw in a leaky barn."

Hause gave him a good natured slap on the shoulder. "Well, one would hope it would be." He turned the map slightly and leaned in close. "I don't think anyone should have to sleep under a leaky barn roof. That's why you're here, Dominic."

"Home renovations?"

Hause set his knuckles beneath his chin. "You're a funny guy."

"Glad one of us thinks so," Lerah muttered.

"Unity, Dominic, that's what I want, unity."

"I'm not quite sure I follow."

Hause stood and ran his hands across the front of his shirt. "Would anyone like a drink?"

"Whiskey, straight," Lerah said.

"Nice," Dominic sent a little salute in her direction.

"What's the big deal?"

"You take your whiskey like you've got a set of balls."

"Oh, fuck you." She hid her face behind a raised middle finger.

"Anything for you, Dominic?"

"Yeah, just give me what she's having."

"You know, after the war we had a vision for this land of ours, one that was much different than what we're faced with today. By now we figured that we'd have mapped the entirety of the country and discovered all the settlements. As it stands, we know very little of what's out there, we've set foot on a fraction of what this new world has to offer us. Some of that can be attributed to our limited resources and manpower, most of it can be attributed to the war." Hause spoke as he filled three glasses from a decanter that was quite similar to the one dear departed Rudy had been using the night before.

"That little fraction of mapped land sure created a hell of a conflict, are you sure you really want to know what else is out there?"

"We believed that out of the ashes of war we would reap a unified people; living as one, under one government, one law, protected and prosperous." He moved back towards the table, two glasses pinched together between a thumb and forefinger, the other rocking comfortably in the palm of the opposite hand. "Here you go." He slid a glass to Dominic and Lerah and then relaxed in his chair, taking sips from his own beverage.

"And I'm assuming you'd be the man in charge. That the rules and regulations would be made up and carried out by you and your people."

Hause shrugged. "Someone has to be there to enforce the rules. To ensure that everyone is getting a fair shake. What's wrong with that?"

"Sounds like a dictatorship to me. Folks don't usually find it all that comfortable under the boot heel. Isn't that what brought us here to begin with?"

"On the contrary, too many hands in the pot, that's what brought us here. We had no one guiding the ship; just a bunch of children pulling back and forth on the wheel until they ran us into the rocks. A strong ship needs a strong captain."

"And you're that captain?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know, Hause, maybe the folks out there would like to pick and choose their captains. Hell, maybe they don't want a captain. You remember that little war we just had?"

Hause nodded. "I do, I was there for part of it."

"As was I, and I got to witness how you Union types handle those that defy you. Being under your thumb isn't an inviting prospect."

"Every war reaps a few bad apples. That's hardly reflective of the Union as a whole."

"Either way, perhaps you should step lightly."

"That doesn't carry much weight coming from the guy that stood on the losing side." Lerah stared into the top of her glass and stirred the alcohol with the tip of her finger.

"Sweetheart, money is money, win or lose, as long as my pockets are still full, I feel okay about it."

"Listen," Hause dried his lips with the back of his hand, "we aren't interested in ruling these people. We've no aspirations to guide their every step. We just want to bring them the same life we're enjoying right here, right now. Genesis Towers should be dotting our landscape. Take, for example, the little misunderstanding we had regarding Rudy yesterday. Had Karaville been living under our flag and conducting itself by our laws, things may have gone much differently for you. Perhaps you'd have been collecting a nice fat bounty rather than... well, you know."

"Yeah, about that bounty..."

"I'm afraid we'll need that coin to repair the bar. But forget about the bounty, I want you to think about where we could go as a country if we were all on the same page. If all the known settlements were united and working together, there's no limit to what we could accomplish. We could map this country, from coast to coast, in less than a year; that's with all hands on deck. In less than ten years, we could have Genesis Towers dotting the landscape. That was the vision of the forefathers. No man, woman, or child should have to wonder where their next meal is going to come from. They shouldn't be rattled by every cut and bruise because they lack access to proper medical care. They shouldn't live in fear of crime and injustice because of a lack of law and order. Jobs, medicine, peace of mind, these are rights that every human being is entitled to by virtue of birth."

"Funny, my daddy always told me the world doesn't owe me shit." Dominic polished off his glass and let it rattle across the table. "Then again, I killed him when I was eleven, so I guess I didn't take to too much of what he had to say."

"You're kidding, right?" Lerah spoke as if she were waiting for the punch line.

"About what?"

"You killed your own father?"

Dominic shrugged.

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Hause interjected. "That's not what's important here. What's important is your mission. The reason I've brought you two together."

"Which is?" Lerah sounded doubtful.

Hause turned his body towards Dominic. "Lerah is a Shadeux, like I said last night; she is one of our best, top of her class. But she lacks experience on the battlefield, she's untested."

"What's their directive?" Dominic leaned back and kicked his feet out.

"It's remarkably similar to the Saboteurs."

"What? Infiltrate, kill, destroy, and don't get caught in the process?"

"Yes, exactly; they're experts in weapons, explosives, and mortal combat."

"So you need me to show her the ropes? Make sure she doesn't get herself killed or screw up the mission?"

"I don't need you to show me shit," Lerah raised her eyebrows and downed the last of the whiskey in her glass.

"It's settled," Hause said matter-of-factly, "you will work with Dominic. You will listen to what he has to say. This isn't about you or your ego. You're a Shadeux. You will not let me down. More importantly, you will not let your father down, will you, Lerah?"

"No, Lord Marshal," she answered obediently.

"Good."

Dominic scratched at the bottom of his chin. "There is one thing I'm not quite following your logic on. You want to unite everyone under the flag. To me, and I'm just throwing this out there, it seems that sending in guns isn't the best way to win hearts and minds."

"I'm not sending in guns to win hearts and minds. We're sending in ambassadors, men with banners of truce and chests of coin, to win hearts and minds."

"So what the hell do you need us for?" Dominic asked.

"Not all are swayed by coin and open arms."

"I've never met an individual that could not be moved by the jingle jangle of a well stocked coin purse."

"Not all men are made in your image," Lerah said.

Hause stood and walked to the window, beyond the glass stood the Outland: a vast expanse of sand being pushed and pulled by indecisive currents of unobstructed wind, splotches of brown and black dotting the horizon in the form of ramshackle settlements and the crumbling frames of structures long forgotten. "The war," he shook his head slowly and then dropped his eyes to the floor. "You know, I often wonder if we weren't better off before we took up arms. We said we were fighting to bring unity to the land, but we're more fractured than we've ever been. I still remember when that last bullet was fired and that last body was buried. We celebrated. What we celebrated, well, I couldn't really say. Sure, we pushed the Rebels east, beyond the known land, some even say they moved beyond the Glass Mountains to the coast. But really, at the end of the day, it was just more men sent back to the dust before their time. It's the same cycle our forefathers found themselves in: we kill each other, we stop, we celebrate that we're no longer killing each other, and then we start all over again. If we keep on this way, we'll just end up darkening the skies again and once more driving our species to the edge of extinction. You know the story."

"Better than most," Dominic said.

"If there's one lesson we should take from the old world it's that the pursuit of power can only lead to complete and utter devastation. I'm not going to let that happen, not again." He turned towards them and leaned back against his desk. "Why is this mission so important? Why the pursuit of Unity? It's not because I long to be the leader of an empire, Dominic. It's to prevent another war. I'm under no illusion that we've broken the backs of the Rebels. We pushed them east, but given enough time, they'll return. They draw their strength from the settlements, both known and unknown; they sow lies and reap the harvest. If we can strike first, if we can prevent those ideas from taking root, by getting the settlements to unite with us, rather than against us, we can stamp out the Rebels, permanently. But we have to convince the known settlements first. We have to drum up the manpower to continue mapping the country and bring the unknown settlements into the fold. That's where the rebels are really drawing their strength from, the places they know we don't have boots. We believe that a majority of the known settlements can be persuaded to join us through civil negotiation and a little bit of coin. But like I said, there are some that won't listen to reason. We are talking about societies ruled by powerful and persuasive leaders, backed by men and guns; the people cling to them."

"Have you tried talking, or are you just assuming?" Dominic asked.

"We tried, two times, two different settlements, same results."

"Which were?"

"They shot our men down."

"We've got an army, let's use it." Lerah bunched one fist up inside the other, eager to lead the pack.

"Silly girl, did you not hear anything I just said? You truly are your father's daughter."

"Sir, my father raises a fair point. We're risking too much for what may be a minimal return on investment."

"Your father is invested in us utilizing the full might of our military; we both know that, Lerah."

Dominic raised his hand. "I'm sorry, I'm lost here. What's going on?"

"None of your—"

"Lerah's father, a fine man and a dear friend, oversees the bulk of our defense. He's not what you would call... a supporter of my plan. He believes that it's making our military weaker, since we're cutting their budget and putting the excess coin towards this push for peace."

Dominic nodded. "Well, there's never been much profit in peace."

"I think when he sees what we can accomplish that he'll come on board. He's a reasonable man, wouldn't you say, Lerah?"

"Yes, Lord Marshal."

"I do have to ask, why are these settlements so important? If you think you can get most of the major ones behind you, then who gives a shit about a few outliers?"

"I give a shit, Dominic. The Union gives a shit. This land can never truly be united if we've got settlements out there sowing seeds of discourse. A few bad apples in the barrel will eventually pollute the whole batch."

"So, you want something quiet, under the radar? You want assassinations."

"That's such an ugly word." Hause shuddered with disapproval as he moved back towards the table. "What I want is a shifting of power. I want to open the path for peaceful negotiation."

Dominic didn't think it was such an ugly word. To him it was just another gadget in the tool belt. When the door wouldn't open with a knock, you tried a key. When it wouldn't open with a key, you tried a kick. When it wouldn't open with a kick, you tried a sledgehammer. When it wouldn't open with a sledgehammer, you snuck in through a window and shot the guy that locked it to begin with.

"Now, the hike to the settlement is going to take a couple of days. It's northwest of here, across the Great Chasm. Are you familiar with it?"

Dominic looked to where Hause's finger was plastered on the map and narrowed his eyes. "I've been through there a couple times; can't say I've ever really taken in the sights."

"Well, this is where you're going."

"That's quite a hike." Dominic wasn't complaining. Life had been one long hike for as far back as he could remember.

"Are we getting the horses?" Lerah asked.

"I'm afraid not. We need to keep them available to our scouts."

"You have horses?" Dominic was impressed.

"We do," said Hause. "And, we're close to having our first working automobile, thanks to our men in mechanical."

Dominic shrugged. "The parts have been out there for hundreds of years. How are you able to come by the gasoline?"

"Time and patience."

Dominic turned his attention back to the map. "So what's up there?"

"It's a settlement. They call it, Reeman."

Dominic shook his head. "Not familiar."

"Doesn't ring any bells with me."

"Well, you're both probably better for it." Hause sank into his seat and sat back with his elbows perched across the armrests. "Reeman is lead by a woman they call Mother. The people believe her to be some sort of prophet. Really, she's just insane. She believes that some divine power has bestowed upon her the duty of repopulating the earth. Every couple within Reeman is required to birth a child within twelve months of their union, or they take the Fall."

"The Fall?"

"It's probably a little worse than it sounds. There is a cliff that lies beyond the walls of Reeman. The locals have dubbed it, the Scar. When a couple fails to produce a child within the given amount of time, they are taken to the Scar, stripped naked, a ceremony takes place, and then Mother slices open the woman's belly and tosses the couple over the edge."

"Twisted bitch," Lerah spat.

Dominic was unfazed by the account. He'd met plenty of bad men in his day. He'd met a few bad women, too. The solution was the same: a few pounds of pressure and a little bit of recoil. "So you want us to take her out?"

"Well, yes, but it's not so simple. She's got a small army behind her."

"How many men?"

"We don't know, a dozen, maybe more, well armed. Her sons act as her personal guard. They're by her side, day and night."

"Anything else?" Lerah asked.

"Killing her is the easy part. Any goon with a gun can put a bullet through her head. What we need are the people. They worship her, they fear her, and unless they are sympathetic to our cause, this entire operation is a waste of time. Now, we have a contact inside of her organization, a doctor by the name of Blake Scroggins. Word is, he's become disillusioned by the constant bloodshed. We think he'll be an easy flip. Still, be wary of him. Now, I know you're not going to like this Lerah—"

"I'm not having this man's kid, I draw the line!"

"Sister, what makes you think—"

"Hold it, both of you! I'm not asking for anything that drastic. But you are going to need to pose as a couple."

Lerah threw her head back. "Oh, come on. Is that why you chose me for this mission?"

"I chose you because you're an exceptional soldier. The fact that you're a woman only works in your favor."

"Right," she said, smacking her lips together.

"I'll be gentle, I promise," Dominic winked at her.

"I won't." Lerah said, plunging a blade into the tabletop.

"See, how am I supposed to work under that kind of pressure?"

"I'm sure Lerah will not let her distaste for you jeopardize the mission, will you, Lerah?"

"So long as we have an understanding."

Dominic returned her menacing stare with a curt nod.

"Alright then, children," Hause pushed himself up from his chair, "if there is nothing else."

"I do have one more question," Dominic said, pushing back from the table. "Who's feeding you this intel?"

"You two are not the first ones we've sent into Reeman. We've been gearing up to unite the Outland for some time now; sending small units out to get a feel of what we're up against."

"Who else did you send in?"

"Another man and another woman, good soldiers, we lost contact with them some time ago."

"Well, what are their names? What do they look like? Maybe we can find them and pull them out." Lerah was eager to help her comrades.

"Their names are Micah and Susanna. They could be dead. Perhaps, they switched sides. We have no way of knowing. They are not your primary objective."

"How many of these cults are out there? I don't think I've come across one in all my days."

"We don't have an exact count, like I said, we know of two. We have no reason to think there is a significant number beyond that. We have scouts out there, but we haven't come up with much. Anyway, your primary concern is Reeman and Mother, think you can focus on that?"

"The coin is right and I don't mind a little intrigue and blood, so yeah."

Lerah nodded. "Your will, Lord Marshal."

"Good, you leave tomorrow morning. Make sure to visit Vincent in requisitions for your gear."

# 5

Doctor Blake Scroggins sat on the edge of a rickety, hand woven chair. He was watching his daughter, Judith, push a makeshift wooden car across the warped planks of the living room floor. The car didn't look like much. The little plastic wheels squeaked like a trapped mouse and with every push and pull they only got louder. Judith didn't mind and it was worth the racket to see her happy.

"Have you given it a name yet?" Blake asked as he bent down and wrapped his hand across hers. They lifted the car into the air together and brought it back down on to its front wheels. Blake let go and Judith sent it crashing end over end across the floor. She sent spit flying as she simulated vehicular destruction with pursed lips.

She watched the car teetering back and forth on its roof, "Buggy, I'll name him Buggy," she squealed with laughter, flipped the car upright, and continued its journey across the floor.

Blake smiled and sat back, watching as she scooted away from him on her knees. He removed his glasses and wiped away the streams of moisture that blurred the lenses. Even with the sun sleeping beyond the horizon, temperatures still soared. It caused sweat to bead on his forehead, collect in his eyebrows, and fall like raindrops across his glasses. It was a perpetual battle, day in and day out.

"Hon, the stew is almost at a simmer. Can you start setting up the table?" His wife, Riley, was in the corner tending to a fire as it ravenously licked at a cast iron pot of gravy, rabbit, and crow.

"One set table, coming right up." Blake wavered as he stood from the chair. The hike to and from the Scar, beneath the angry eye of the sweltering sun, had really taken it out of him. The muscles in his thighs cramped, his knees shook beneath him, and his lower back seized up like a rusty hinge. Still, he clenched his jaw and fought through it. His daughter was watching him over her shoulder with a face full of nonjudgmental curiosity, the kind that only children were capable of. He granted her a wink. She smiled before turning her attention back to the misshapen block of wood with wheels.

Blake turned, walked a few steps, and pealed back the doors on the kitchen cabinet. The dishware was the tidiest thing in an already tidy house. Each piece was meticulously stacked and situated, side by side, from back to front, all straight lines. He grabbed a stack of dishes and began spreading them across the bare tabletop. A candle burned at the center, a chandelier of wax sliding downward and flattening against a small copper dish, where it would dry and be reused. Blake was grateful for such a menial task. It stood in stark contrast to the duties he'd been called upon to perform at the Scar. The horrors he'd witnessed—the man clawing at the parched earth, searching for mercy beneath the boot heels of his accusers, the woman, her eyes rolled back in her head, her guts sagging from her slit stomach like a length of discarded garden hose—they ran circles in his head, like demons dancing around a boneyard fire. The thought of Mother and her slack jawed sons soured his stomach. He just wanted to be a husband and a father. He didn't even care about being a doctor anymore. There was no purity left in it. The waters had been bloodied. Hands that once gave life were now stained with death. But alas, there was no hanging up the title. Not so long as he remained in Reeman; Mother wouldn't allow it.

Reeman was the second settlement Blake had resided in. The first one had been swallowed up by the war. It'd been a small affair, surrounded by a tiny wooden fence meant to keep the harvests safe from wandering wildlife. Reeman, on the other hand, was triple the size of his old settlement and surrounded by a spiked wooden wall lined with armed guards. By all accounts, Blake should have felt safer than ever. But he'd never been more frightened.

"Sweetheart, do you need some help?" Riley appeared beside him.

"Oh, no, sorry, I was just drifting." He kissed her on the cheek and set the plate down. She never asked about the Fall. She knew better than to stir the darkness. Instead, after each one, she greeted him with open arms, a kiss, and guided him to his chair. Riley had witnessed the Fall __ twice. She'd kept her head buried in her hands for the duration of each ceremony, cringing at the cries of pain and the sounds of broken flesh. Judith's birth had granted her a reprieve. Children didn't attend their first Fall __ until they reached the age of sixteen. So, while Blake was away fulfilling his duties as the only doctor in all of Reeman, Riley stayed behind and tended to their daughter.

"My sweet husband," she took his face in her hands, running her thumbs just below his eyes, "where are you right now?"

"I'm here." He drew her in close and nuzzled her neck, tickling her with the five days of stubble on his chin.

She laughed and squirmed in his grasp. "No, babe, stop!"

Judith ran over and wrapped her arms around their knees, mimicking the breathless laughter of her mother.

And, just for a moment, the demons in his head were still.

But that moment ended with a powerful knock at the door.

"Who is calling at this hour?"

Blake slid from his wife's grasp and left Judith behind with a reassuring pat on the head. He moved cautiously through the living room. "Just stay back, I'm sure it's nothing." He was already bracing himself for the worst. "Who is it?"

"Open up, we ain't got all night."

It was Zach. Blake had no doubt that Toby was standing right beside him.

Blake propped open the door and stuck his face through the crack, leaving his foot jammed behind it so they couldn't force it open. There was Toby, just as he'd predicted, standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother. They weren't carrying their rifles, but they did have black handguns strapped to their hips. "It's kind of late and I'm about to sit down to eat with my family."

"We need a word, Doc. Open up." Zach took a forceful step forward, as if he expected Blake to just slink back and make way for him.

"I'm actually... I'm a little uncomfortable with you guys coming inside. I've got my little girl in here."

Toby slapped a hand against the door and shoved. Blake shoved back. "I don't give a shit what you're—"

"Hang on," Zach said, grabbing his brother's arm and forcing it down. "If you don't want us to come inside, then you need to come on out here and shut the door."

Blake looked back over his shoulder. His wife was on the other side of the table rocking Judith in her arms. "I'll be right back."

"Mother is concerned, Doc." Zach said as Blake stepped outside on to the front stoop, pulling the door shut.

"She's got a settlement to run. I imagine that's not an unfamiliar feeling for her."

"Nah, it's you, Doc. The way you acted at the ceremony, hiding in the back, ducking your head; it's got people talking; it don't send a good message." Zach had his hands on his hips and his chin turned down.

Blake's palms were sweating. All he could think about was the pungent soup rolling in the pot. The warmth of his wife's skin. The smell of Judith's hair as he dried her off after a bath. He had the sudden urge to fling himself backwards through the door and hope for the best. Many men had disappeared in the night after a visit from Zach and Toby. How many had put up a fight? At least he'd be giving himself a chance. He swallowed his nerves and attempted to speak. "Well... I'm not really trying to send any sort of message."

"But you are sending one, ever since we found out about those traitors you've been acting weird. One might almost make the mistake of thinking you feel sorry for them," Zach said.

"I told you, I knew nothing about that."

"They were under your care for eight months, in your home, and you didn't know they were Union?" Zach plopped a heavy hand down on his shoulder, digging his fingers deep into the muscle. "It's bullshit. We both know it. Come clean, for the sake of that little girl in there. You're the only Doc we got. What you think we're gonna do, kill you?"

_That's exactly what they're gonna do_. "It was as much a surprise for me as it was for you. I knew nothing about them being Union. Their betrayal makes me as sick as it does you. Hell, it makes me sicker. They sat in my home. Ate my food. Looked me in the eyes and claimed to be something they weren't. They lied to me. They said they were trying to conceive. It's... well, it's unforgivable. They got what was coming to them." The pain was working its way down his spine.

"He's a hell of an actor."

"That he is." Toby licked his front teeth.

"You're really gonna stick with that story?" Zach dug in deeper.

Bolts of pain flashed up behind his eyeballs. Slapping Zach away, ducking out of his grip, that wasn't in the cards. They'd beat him lifeless right outside his front door. "That's the truth."

Zach released his hold. "Alright. Mother wants to see you tomorrow. Bright and early."

"But—"

"Bright and early. Be there. Or next time, we ain't knocking. Clear?" Toby backed Blake up against the door with his considerable belly.

"Got it, okay, got it. Bright and early."

"Good boy." Zach rustled his hair.

"You make sure to tell your ladies hello __ for us," Toby called back, as he and his brother disappeared into the darkness.

Blake stood there, dabbing at his eyes, trying to collect himself before walking back inside.

# 6

At the bottom of the Tower 2 stairwell were two doors watched over by a pair of tired looking freshman soldiers. The doors lead to the lobby. By day the caravans occupied one side of the room, trading their wares out of broken down mule carts. On the other side of the room was a nondescript bar, with a few lopsided tables and chairs, where they drank their fill at night before stumbling back out into the wastes with their unsold goods. Lerah, in all her years, hadn't found a reason to visit the place. The thought of mingling with the Outlanders made her sick. All she could think about was their broken teeth, the smell of their sweat, their red ringed eyes, their calloused hands and their dirt caked nails trying to paw her ass. She could hear their sand scratched baritones penetrating the metal door as she moved closer and it twisted her stomach.

"You going in there?" the guard's tone carried slight concern.

Lerah sighed, "Yeah, unfortunately. There's an asshole in there that I need to have a few words with."

"Oh, the big guy in the jacket?"

"That's the asshole."

"Didn't he shoot up Pepper's?

"Yep."

"So, if you don't mind me asking, why isn't he locked up?"

"It's a hell of a thing, that's all I can say."

"Well, be careful. If you need something, just holler for us."

"I think I've got it." She winked and gave the arsenal on her hips a gentle pat.

"Yes ma'am."

She pushed through the doors, with all the hesitancy of an investigator rolling back the curtain on a crime scene. The air was choked with dirt and sweat and slurred profanities. It was an ugly, brown room, with walls of bare plaster and a few haphazardly strung light bulbs. The tables sat lopsided, missing legs and absent chairs. The bar was an overturned dais. There were no shelves for displaying whiskey. No ice chests for storing beer. Just a stack of brown cardboard boxes, with unlabeled black bottles, watched over by a troll of a man; spiky white hair, overdeveloped ears, and nostrils that appeared as if they were wrapped around a pair of lumpy boulders. There were no residents in the crowd. This party was strictly meant for the caravan riders, one meant to soak the coin from their pockets before casting them back out into the sand.

A place for men like Dominic.

Lerah stood at the top of a small set of stairs, looking out over the crowd. She spotted him quickly. He towered over the rest of them. He was by the bar, as still and serene as pond ice, but much uglier, acting as if he were the only man in the room, not turning his head for anyone, pouring warm beer down his throat.

She started down the stairs with her shoulders back and her chin up. Her hands rested comfortably at her sides, her fingers grazing the butt of her pistol. As she came off the bottom step she was absorbed by the jabbering crowd.

"Come on, move, get out of the way!" She shoved and elbowed her way through. The men turned, drunk, and began taking her in through beer fogged glasses; legs and ass, forbidden fruit. The jeers and the lewd invitations began. Someone attempted to slide a hand down the back of her pants. Her blade came up as she yanked the groper down by the hair of his head. She pressed the tip to one of his jugulars. "Move back!" Word traveled fast after that and a path cleared straight to the bar. She sent her hostage rolling across the floor. He whimpered and curled into a ball, as if he were expecting an offensive of kicks and punches.

_Pussy..._

"Making friends?"

"Always." Lerah slapped the top of the hollow bar, rattling a line of empty bottles. "Give me a beer, make it fast." She turned and stared up at Dominic. He was a brutish figure. The muscles in his arms and chest strained against the fabric of the duster. The erratic lighting overhead framed one side of his face and it wasn't the good side. A long scar creviced his cheek, cutting into, what was otherwise, a perfect patch of bristly beard. "I figured I'd find you here."

"I heard it's the last joint in this place to get a decent drink."

"You call this swill _decent_?" Lerah pulled the bottle across the bar so quickly the little man on the other side barely had time to get the top off.

Dominic shrugged.

"Well, you can blame yourself and your trigger finger."

"Aye, I suppose I can. This place seems to draw a different sort than your other watering hole." Lerah watched him. His eyes were moving, shifting over the crowd, separating the faces.

"Rightfully so, it's for the drifters. Those without residency papers. Caravan riders. Outlanders just like you. Which brings up the point, how'd you get up there without papers?"

Dominic rolled the bottle in his palms, his eyes still on the crowd. "Tricks of the trade."

"Hell of a trick, it's got us drinking horse piss."

"I've had worse."

Looking at him, she believed it. The path Lerah had walked to the bar slowly closed and the ramblings of the drunken nomads began to turn away from revenge, back to whatever bullshit they'd been going on about before she'd walked through the door. "I take it by the way you're knocking those back that Hause already paid you for our little excursion north?"

"Not all of it, but enough to get drunk." Dominic signaled for another bottle.

"How much is your undying loyalty going to cost the hard working people of Genesis?"

Dominic looked down at her with glossy question marks in his eyes. "Like you don't know."

"I'm not the Marshal's secretary. We're not bedmates. He doesn't tell me of his personal dealings. I'm a gun in the hand of the Union, just like you. The difference is that I do it out of loyalty, rather than love of coin."

"Well," he sighed, "it's enough to keep me in booze for a bit. Maybe even get me a few hot baths and a shave. But who knows, we may not survive long enough for me to spend it."

_Typical._ "You get rich, and drunk, and fat, and what do I get?"

"Me," he said, a mouthful of beer dribbling down his chin.

"Careful, I'm already having a hard time suppressing my excitement." She felt like a prisoner standing at the gallows: baited breath, waiting for the floor to drop out from beneath her feet.

"Hey, you're not exactly my type either, sister." His eyes moved up and down the length of her body, causing her to shudder. "I tend to go for bigger tits, not much of an ass man. Though, yours is quite something, even if you're not much up top."

"Yeah, about that, let's go ahead and lay some ground rules."

He wiped his mouth. "Yeah, sure, but not right now. It'll give us something to talk about in the field. Bartender, can I get some smokes?"

She wanted to bury her fist in his scarred up jaw. "Okay." She gritted her teeth and forced down a swig of lukewarm horse piss. "So, our chances of dying are rather high, in your opinion?"

"Come again?" he lit a cigarette and shook the match out.

"Your money, you said something about us not living long enough for you to spend it?"

"Oh yeah, that. The road we're taking north, it's not exactly hospitable."

"How so?"

"Lady—"

"I have a name!"

"Sorry, Lerah, it's not like the Towers. It's the Outland. Shit goes sideways real quick out there. You've gotta be ready to kill, because everyone else is. And you, being a female, you're going to have it twice as hard. Crews I've come across, that little pop gun on your thigh, it means nothing to them when stacked against the possibility of getting at what's between your legs."

"I can handle myself." While training to become a Shadeux she'd scored top in her class in marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat. There wasn't a male recruit whose ass she couldn't wipe the mat with. Every resident in Genesis knew better than to lay a finger on her without permission.

"I know you can, I saw you walk through the door." He actually sounded sincere. "Out there, it's not about your physical prowess. You could have the quickest hands and the steadiest aim, but if you don't have the smarts to go with it, you're as good as dead."

She rolled her eyes. "And I suppose that's where you come in?"

"Yep, I suppose it is."

"So, if the road is so damn dangerous, why don't we just go around?"

He shook his head. "We might be able to make a few detours, but we can't avoid it entirely. That chasm Hause pointed out on the map, we've got to go over it. The ground opened up after the earthquakes. If you're heading north, there's only one way across. It's a bridge and it's hardly worth a damn. There's always a new gang of assholes trying to set up a toll point there."

"Oh, well, that's great."

"We'll deal with the shit when we get to it."

"So how do I know you're not just going to run out on me the first chance you get?"

"Lerah, if I'm anything, I'm a man of my word."

"That's it, that's my guarantee?"

"That's all I've got."

She shook her head. "That's just splendid."

He finished off his beer and stubbed out his cigarette. "I think that's gonna do it for me. When do we get outfitted?"

"That's why I'm here; the requisitions officer needs to see us tonight. We're not going to have time to get sorted tomorrow. We head out at first light."

"Alright, let's do it. I'm still feeling rather spritely."

She turned from him and rested across the bar. "Just... let me finish my drink." She suddenly felt very tired. She'd gone through the training, she'd sat through the lessons on duty, she knew about the potential danger that came with being a soldier for the Union. Still, she'd gotten comfortable—a bed, a roof over her head, no worries about where her next meal was going to come from—tomorrow morning, all of that changed.

Her train of self pity was brought to a halt. She smelled the man before she saw him. He was a fellow of substantial girth. He wedged himself in between Lerah and Dominic. He leered at her, he had his back to Dominic and one elbow propped up on the bar. Each one of his teeth looked as if it'd been dotted with a black felt pen.

"What's the lady drinking?" His smile was more perverse than it was charming.

"There's only one drink being served down here, dipshit." She shot him a look of disgust and went back to her beer.

The man belly laughed. "A feisty one, you are. I just wanted to come over here and give you a proper apology. The fella you tussled with on the way in, he's a friend of mine, he's never been too good with women."

"He must have taken lessons from you," she said dryly, refusing to meet the eyes of her pig-faced admirer.

"Hey now, don't be that way. I'm just trying to be friendly."

"I've got enough friends, fat man. So, how about you haul your ass away and let me finish my drink in peace?"

The man slammed a meaty fist against the surface of the bar. Lerah's beer careened to the floor, shattered, and spat its contents across her boots. "Union cunt! You think you're special? Your pussy ain't plated in gold, you get wet like all the rest."

Dominic's voice broke in before she could react. "I think its best you go ahead and disappear. Otherwise, things are about to get real ugly for you."

"Who the hell—" As he turned Dominic met his throat with the blade of his hand. The fat Outlander stumbled backwards, grasping at his windpipe, coughing, trying to catch his breath. Dominic wasn't finished. He grabbed him by his collar, doubled him over with a knee to the belly and followed up with another one to the face. The man went down, out cold before he hit the ground.

An angry cloud of Outlanders began to form.

Lerah went for her pistol.

Dominic grabbed her wrist. "No, just stand back. Let me handle this." He stepped forward, his arms were extended, his duster flared at his heels, taking the beast by the jaws and daring it to bite down. "There's only one of me. You might get me down, but I'll cripple a couple of you before you do. You really wanna chance not walking out of here under your own power?"

A skinny man, with a scraggly head of unwashed hair, came charging at Dominic with a broken bottle. He swung the jagged weapon up, down, and side-to-side. He was making tight little arcs, his face contorting with the effort. Dominic caught his wrist on a downward swing, wrenched it back, and slammed his elbow with a closed fist. The man squealed as his bones fractured and tore through the flesh. Dominic caught the broken bottle as it fell from his grasp and let the little man tumble away to the floor.

Two more attackers came in for the kill.

The first one lead off with a sloppy front kick. Dominic caught his leg and buried the broken bottle in his thigh. The second man slashed at Dominic's face with an open blade. Lerah considered stepping in, but before she could, Dominic had ducked the blade and was retreating backwards while still holding on to the leg of the first attacker as he yelped and struggled to yank the bottle from his flesh. Dominic rammed an elbow into his kneecap, shattering it, before throwing him aside.

The man with the blade was the last one left. He was heavyset. He had a patchy moustache and deep set eyes. He seemed to be a man that was used to throwing his weight around. A man that wasn't easily intimidated. His eyes fluttered between his maimed amigos, bleeding out on the floor, and the monster that put them there. He looked around for backup, only to find that anyone that had shown interest in joining the fray had lost their nerve.

"It's just me and you, chief," Dominic growled.

The man began to shake and back away. He dropped the knife and raised his hands high above his head. "No trouble here, I made a mistake! No trouble!"

"You already took your swing, it's my turn." Dominic moved deliberately. He swooped down and grabbed the knife, without breaking pace. The man called out for help, his feet sliding on the floor as he turned to run.

"No! Don't!" Lerah called out to Dominic, but he didn't respond.

Dominic grabbed the man by his collar and snapped him back against his chest. "Don't move or I may slip and cut your throat."

"No please, I'm sorry!"

The man's voice turned into a shrill wail as the flesh on his face parted beneath the vicious bite of the knife.

"Dominic, stop!" Lerah ordered.

Dominic considered his work, like a painter taking in a canvas before deciding on the next color. "I think we need to even it out on the other side. What about you people, do you think we need a little on the other side as well?" He eyed the crowd like a mad dog, daring them to interfere with his catch. He pried the man's head over, using his elbow to crank his neck, while keeping a firm grip on the back of his shirt. "Now don't move," Dominic whispered as he set the metal tip against his cheekbone.

"Let him go and drop the knife!" Lerah planted her gun against the base of Dominic's skull.

Dominic froze. "You know what you're doing with that, sister?"

She dropped the hammer. "Yeah, I've got a general idea."

The knife clattered to the floor and Dominic raised his hands. His captive stumbled away, holding his face, blood leaking vigorously between his fingers.

"Move. We're done here."

Dominic shook his head, laughed, and strolled towards the door, ignoring the press of the gun at his back.

"I wasn't going to kill the bastard." Dominic took the short barrel rifle from the young requisitions officer and looped the strap around his shoulders. It was a nice piece of hardware. It had a folding stock, which made it easier to conceal, but it still packed enough punch to put a man down hard. He slipped his duster back on; it did a decent job of camouflaging the weapon.

"No, of course not, you were just going to torture him," Lerah hadn't stopped lecturing him since they'd left the lobby bar.

"He took a swing at me with that blade. He'd have killed me if given the chance."

"He's a common thug. We're not. We work for the Union. You're lucky he wasn't a citizen or we'd be having a very different conversation."

"Correction, missy, you work for the Union."

"If you call me by anything other than my name one more time—"

"You'll what? Shoot me? Arrest me? You can't do a thing. Remember, you're Union. Besides, I don't answer to you. Now, let's hurry it along, sister, I'm growing tired."

She turned her wrath on the wide eyed requisitions officer. "Where's my damned hardware?"

"Uh," he fumbled around under the counter, "yes ma'am, right here ma'am." He slid a weapon across the counter that was identical to Dominic's.

Lerah grabbed it up, turned it over a few times, checked the magazine, and then hung it across one shoulder like a tote bag.

"Hey, you got a pistol back there? No wheel guns, just something with a light frame and a couple extra mags? Hause took mine."

The fresh faced officer slid him a pistol, a twin to the one carried by Lerah. "This is all we got; standard issue."

It was high capacity and all metal. ; meant to knock down big bastards. "I guess it'll do in a pinch." Dominic took the gun, the holster, the magazines, and began assembling them across his body.

"We're not going to be able to carry any of this into Reeman, you know that, right?" Her hip was cocked and her arms were crossed as she watched him fumbling around with the buckle on the holster. "I think your thigh is too fat for the strap." Laughter was rising in her throat; she tried to cover it with a cough.

"Oh, to hell with this!" The requisitions officer ducked right as Dominic hurled the holster back across the counter. He stuffed the pistol down the front of his pants and wrapped the duster tight before dropping the extra magazines into his outer jacket pockets.

"You're going to blow your balls off."

"Wouldn't you be a sad girl?"

"I think I'd celebrate it as a victory and come home."

"You've really got to start telling me when you're joking."

"I don't joke."

"Uh-huh, well, good to know."

"What are we going to do with this shit when we get there?"

"Strategic placement."

She just stared.

"Think of it as a retreat pattern. We're going to drop it someplace nearby, someplace convenient. That way, if we have to leave in a hurry, we can use it to cover our asses."

"Simple enough. So, what else do you have for us?" she asked the officer.

He set down four canteens.

She grabbed two and stuffed them away under one arm. "I suggest you get some sleep." The door swung shut behind Lerah's swift departure.

Dominic leaned in, as if the requisition's officer were an old drinking buddy. "She's a hard one to crack, ain't she?"

"That's the word," the officer said with an honest-to-God nod of his head.

"What's the word?"

"Oh, you haven't heard? That one there, she hates men. No one really knows why, but it's not just you. No one's ever gotten close to her, at least not without getting their nuts taken off."

"That a fact?" Dominic was intrigued.

Lerah answered the door amid the second round of knocking. On the other side stood her father; charcoal slacks, tan shirt, freshly shaved face, high and tight salt-and-pepper hair. His pistol was attached to his belt, his boots held a mirror shine, and his expression appeared to have been carved from stone.

"May I come in, Lerah?" his voice was cold steel; as comforting to her as a warm bed and a hot meal.

She ushered him in and closed the door. "Are you here to say goodbye?"

"Goodbye?" He walked through the living room and into the kitchen, helping himself to the contents of the refrigerator.

"I'm going out on assignment. We leave tomorrow morning."

"Yes, of course, I know, but why would I say goodbye?" The sharp rip of hard plastic filled the room as he cracked open a bottle of water. "Are you not planning on coming back?"

"Dad, don't play games with me right now."

He shrugged. "Who said anything about games? You're a soldier. You choose your moves wisely. You choose your words wisely. I was simply responding to your words."

She fell back on the couch. "Well, in that case, I chose my words wisely. After talking to Dominic—"

"Dominic?"

"The Saboteur, Dominic is his name."

"Oh, yes, of course."

"After talking to him, and hearing his stories about what's out there waiting for us, I'm not optimistic. So, yeah, it may be goodbye."

Her father finished the bottle in one big chug, crumpled it, and left it sitting on the counter. "Maybe you'll live. Maybe you'll die. It's all part of being a soldier." He'd never been the nurturing type. "Your chances of survival are much higher being with him."

There was a relentless tension squeezing the bridge of her nose, pushing her eyes back, deeper and deeper into their sockets. "You mean the guy that won't climb out of bed in the morning unless it means more change in his pockets?"

"And why not? An artist gets paid to paint."

Fuzzy images of Dominic ripping men apart flashed across the surface of her mind. "I don't see an artist. I see a soldier in dereliction of duty."

He laughed. "Oh, sometimes I think I raised you to be too idealistic."

She crossed her arms and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the softness of the cushions rather than the stirring in her bowels. She'd been her father's greatest admirer, his best student... his only student. She'd never heard him speak so highly of her. This Outlander walks in from the sandbox, shoots up their home, and everyone's panting over him. Suddenly he's an _artist_.

Her father stood behind the couch, his hands clasped at his back, staring at the small bundle of pictures on the wall. "The rebels were never soldiers. They were nothing more than a band of well armed thugs. They yelled something about independence, but it was chaos they wanted; a bunch of dogs too rabid for the leash, barely worth a bullet. The Saboteurs, they were different. They were professionals. They never pretended to be anything more than what they were; men that fought for money. And more than that, they were good. Better than any man we had. Hause couldn't lay down the bounties fast enough after the war ended; he didn't want to risk fighting them again. We were hanging a Saboteur a day. A waste, if you ask me."

"A waste of rope, perhaps."

"No, Lerah, a waste of manpower. These men fought for money. We had more of that than we knew what to do with. It would have been a mutually beneficial relationship."

Lerah shook her head. "We're better than that."

"Better than what? Better than winning? Foolish girl." He came around the couch and stood in front of her with his hands still clasped behind him. "You know, that's Hause's philosophy, this idea that we're somehow better than the men we were during the war. He's weakening our walls, putting all of our people in danger, and risking everything we fought for in the name of some bullshit sense of morality. What's the difference between bribing these people with coin and bribing them with a bullet? They love the coin and they fear the bullet, neither emotion gives way to genuine loyalty."

"I don't agree with his methods either, but I obey orders."

"As you should. You're a soldier. Soldiers obey orders, even if they do so begrudgingly."

"I figure it's likely to lead me to a bullet or starvation."

"Yeah, well, they'll send you out with enough rations. You won't starve, but I can't promise you anything as far as the bullet goes. But you're a tough girl. My money is on you." That's the closest he'd ever come to saying he was proud of her. "You know, your ma, well, I think she'd smile about all this. First female Shadeux, special assignment, I think she'd... well, she'd be happy for you." Talk of mother; it was a proxy for real emotion.

"Yeah, maybe; we'll never know."

"She never really understood our type." He clicked his teeth together, uncomfortable, his hands now stuffed deep inside his pockets.

She stood. "Okay, Dad, I've got to get some sleep, so..."

"Say no more, say no more." He raised his hands in mock surrender and backed towards the door. "I just came by to make sure you are okay. To make sure you are ready."

"I'm fine. I'll be fine. When I get this done and get back home, I'll be even better."

"You don't like him, I know that. But he'll protect you out there. He's better than any man in Genesis. So stick beside him. Follow his lead. Okay?"

"Yeah," she was already reaching for the door handle, "sure, Dad. I'll follow his lead."

"You're gonna make me proud out there, I know it."

"Yeah, of course, I'll make you proud."

"Alright then, I wish you the best." He offered her his hand.

She gave it a single shake and forced a weak smile. "Sure, thanks, Dad."

# 7

Blake pulled his front door shut as he stepped outside. Riley and Judith were still inside sleeping. Riley, with her knees bunched up against her chest and the blankets ruffled around her ankles. Judith, with the tip of her thumb jammed between her lips and her toy car not far beyond her grasp.

The sun was rising over the horizon as Blake took the front steps like a toddling child. Sleep still weighed heavy on his eyes. He'd tossed and turned most of the night. He didn't want to risk oversleeping, didn't want to risk the possibility of keeping Mother waiting. He was still shaken by the visit from Zach and Toby. Her sons were more than just a mouthpiece. They were her hands and her feet. When she uttered a command they were the ones that carried it forth. Blake had seen what happened when she grew suspicious of someone's dedication to the faith. Zach and Toby's visit, the things they'd said, meant Mother had a suspicious eye on him. That didn't bode well for his future or the future of his family. He had to see her, face-to-face. He had to make her believe that his faith, his resolve, was still strong.

The gate surrounding the settlement stood ominously against the face of the deep blue morning, with its towering spikes chomping at the sky like shadowy fangs. The men of the Watch walked the platforms around the wall, their distant chatter reaching him in whispers on the back of the stiff breeze. They were at the tail end of their shifts, biding their time until the morning relief arrived. Most of them now leaned lazily on the stocks of their weapons, looking out over the wastes, while a few walked with their heads down and their rifles perched across the backs of their shoulders.

The town square was just waking up. Sleepy men, pushing wheelbarrows filled with wood and fresh remnants from the grain harvest, nodded their heads towards Blake as he passed them by. Blake's chest was tightening up the closer he got to Mother's residence. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was passively moving towards his own execution.

No, he couldn't think that way, Mother would never.

He was too valuable.

Too visible.

The people of Reeman would never support such a move.

But they'd cheered the Fall of Micah and Susanna, a couple only eight months into their union. Killing them had been a clear violation of Scripture. Only a small circle had known they were spies for the Union. By all accounts someone in the crowd should have spoken in protest. Perhaps it'd become all about the blood, all about the show. It didn't matter who it came from, as long as the flow was steady, and it didn't belong to them. Or perhaps—for better or worse—Mother's voice now carried a power that compelled only blind obedience. They were so far from where they began. There was once a vision for Reeman, and this was not it.

They'd once been a small band of survivors; men, women, and a few children. They'd gone north after their settlement had been destroyed during the war. They found themselves starving, their numbers dwindling daily; they were living in flimsy huts, defending themselves with sticks, and getting picked apart by bandits on a nightly basis.

Enter Mother.

She came offering food, water, and armed men for protection. Zach and Toby were attached to her hips, mere children at the time. She carried a hand written book bound together with twine; the Gospel of Multiplication. She talked of the old world and how it fell due to the self centered greed of man. She talked of the Curse, mankind's punishment from the Creator for the disobedience of their forefathers, and how it was their duty to root it out, "It will not be pleasant, but it's our duty, as His children, to carry out His will. Follow me, obey His word, and I promise, you and your loved ones will survive. Not only will you survive, you will thrive."

__ They were desperate.

They only had one condition for Mother. The Council: men from the settlement, elected by the people. They would work with Mother, side by side, to implement the Gospel of Multiplication. A way of ensuring that the judgments handed down were fair and that the people understood the new path they were on.

Ultimately, it was a power check.

Mother went along with it, though she was sure to make her objections known, "The Father needs no Council. Every utterance from my lips is the unstained word of our Creator. If it brings you comfort, elect your Council, and I will include them to the best of my ability."

And so they did. The last thing they wanted was to be under the thumb of a dictator.

The Gospel of Multiplication laid down a simple and, perhaps, harsh set of laws. Every couple, united before the eyes of the Father, was required to conceive at least one child within the first twelve months of their union. If they could not conceive a child within that time period, they were deemed Cursed and sentenced to take the Fall. It was a punishment that was symbolic of the old world, of the Fall taken by man when the old world was swallowed by fire.

Taking a partner was optional. But according to the Gospel of Multiplication, if an individual chose not to take a partner, they had to swear an oath of celibacy and multiply through other means. They could join the Watch, farm, build, sew; as long as they were doing something to contribute to the multiplication of Reeman. Many chose that route. Many did not want to risk taking the Fall.

For a long time things went just as Mother had promised. Walls were built, food was plentiful, and they were truly thriving. Those that had made the covenant were conceiving. It looked as if no one would have to take the Fall.

Blake felt relief. For the first time, in a long time, he felt peace.

Then, a stillbirth.

He remembered the young woman's name.

Jillian.

More than anything, he remembered the terror on her face.

She'd begged and pleaded with Blake not to tell Mother. Her husband had yelled and threatened, he'd pressed Blake into a corner and shaken a fist in his face as tears streamed down his cheeks. Blake was lost. He was used to death being something he worked to defeat. Not a consequence that he handed out to patients that failed to meet a spiritual criteria. Thankfully, the responsibility was removed from him when Jillian and her husband made a run for the front gate. Her husband was shot down and Jillian, with a bullet hole in her calf, was left to take the Fall on her own.

After that, things started to spiral. The Council was outraged at the level of brutality demonstrated during the Fall. But it was too late. Mother had amassed a loyal band of followers on the Watch. With a dozen armed men at her back she'd stood in the town square, accused the Council of heresy, and sentenced all of them to take the Fall. There were no objections, not even Blake had possessed the courage to speak out in the face of such force.

The paranoia set in shortly after she'd disposed of the Council. The Fall became a much more frequent occurrence. The blood lust began to grow within the community. It became a sport; people taking bets on who'd be next. Mother began asking for weekly updates from Blake regarding those with the potential to conceive. "Heresy!" She'd point the finger and over the edge they'd go. If their loved ones protested, they'd follow. No one challenged her. Mother had provided. She'd rescued them from the quicksand and placed them on solid ground. She was the Prophetess. His Word revealed. To thrive, they need but follow.

Blake didn't know how much more thriving __ he could endure.

_Riley and Judith, I endure for them... only for them._

Mother's domicile rested back off the main square, just behind the church. It was hard to miss it. It was on stilts, sitting high above the rest of the settlement, giving Mother a bird's-eye view of the world below. There was a narrow, zigzagging staircase leading up to the front door. It was built from a sturdy wood that never seemed to lose its finish. It appeared elegant when compared to the swollen, waterlogged buildings sitting in its shadow.

Zach was among the guards standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Well, look here. What's the password, Doc?" Zach stepped forward and nonchalantly set the barrel of his rifle against Blake's chest.

"Oh, we have a password now?" Blake chuckled nervously, trying his best to come off as one of the guys.

"Surprised you actually made it. Thought I was gonna have to go and kick that ass." Zach said, as he lowered the rifle.

"Hey, well, no ass kicking needed here. Message received loud and clear." He'd seen this little bastard wet his bed. He'd walked him through the minefield of puberty.

_Entitled, ungrateful, little piece of..._

"Well, go on then, Doc, what're you waiting for?"

_I'm waiting for you to get out of my way_. "You're right, better not keep her waiting." He shuffled around Zach and the other men, with their big guns and their aggressive postures. Blake gave them all the same jellyfish nod, as if he were some kicked dog slinking away with the table scraps. The day was just beginning and he already felt exhausted as he reached Mother's front door. He knocked twice and a stone faced member of the Watch allowed him entry with little more than a cursory glance.

The outer room __ was the same as always; gloomy, despite the candles flickering in the chandelier overhead. Blake knew the drill. Before entering Mother's chambers one must be summoned. So he stood with his hands clasped in front of him, bouncing up on the balls of his feet, trying to work the tightness from his muscles and the tingling from his bones.

The door to her chambers opened and deep, dimwitted laughter filled the room.

Toby.

"Ah, hey, look who it is. Mother, Blakey boy showed up," he sucked his teeth and propped himself up in the doorway; Blake's final obstacle.

"Send him in," her voice was smooth and hollow.

"Hey, Blakey boy—"

"I heard her."

"You giving me lip?" Toby squared up his shoulders. "You're lucky we're in Mother's house," he hissed at Blake and bumped him with his shoulder as he exited the chambers.

"Yeah, I feel absolutely blessed," Blake said flatly.

Mother was in a high backed wicker chair, with the Gospel of Multiplication sitting open in her lap, and a steel chalice hugged tight against her chest. "Please, shut the door, Doctor."

Blake did as instructed and then turned to face her.

The room itself was a minimalist exercise. A single candle burned near the door. There was a small desk she used to write her sermons. Behind that there was a drawing that one of her sons had done of the Scar. It was rubbish, void of any finesse; the work of a bored and easily influenced child.

_Had it been Zach or Toby?_

He couldn't remember. He just remembered Mother gathering everyone together in the town square to show off the perfectly good waste of parchment.

Mother was wrapped in shadows. She rarely made herself available to the public. She didn't even come out for services. Her sermons were all hand written and delivered from the pulpit by one of her sons. She only came out for the Fall. The rest of the time she spent in her chambers, with the Scriptures and the chalice.

"Not much of this left." She held up the vessel as if giving him a better view of its contents. "When we found the crates... abandoned like that, I knew... I just knew it had to be from Him, and I was right."

Blake didn't know what was in the cup. He didn't think Mother even knew. She just said it allowed her to _see more clearly_. "We can look for more."

She shook her head and stared glassy eyed at the shuttered window. "Where would we even begin? No. He will provide. He always provides."

"Yes, Mother. He always provides."

"Do you believe that, Doctor? Really?" she asked, fixing her gaze on him.

He felt very alone, standing there in the dark. He quickly checked the door to his left to see if someone had slipped in behind him. "Yes, Mother, I do."

She closed the Gospel and set it on the edge of the window alongside the cup. She stood, crooked over, and began moving towards him. The way her robe billowed about her ankles, combined with the thick carpet of shadows eclipsing the floor, made for a ghostly combination; it made her appear to float rather than walk. "Your actions, as of late, have caused me a fair bit of concern."

"Yes, Mother, that much has been brought to my attention. But that's why I'm here; to show you that there is no reason to be concerned."

"You're here because I summoned you here. Am I right?"

_Caught._ "I've just been feeling a little off."

"Explain yourself, Doctor." The skin around her eyes was red and puffy. Deep creases lined her face. She looked worn down.

"I don't know how, really. This last week, I've just felt off."

"Betrayed, perhaps?" Her voice was soft. So soft. She curled her lips into a small pout and tilted her head.

"Yeah, maybe a little betrayed." He was having a hard time forming words, his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth.

"Me too, Doctor. I felt utterly betrayed... I feel utterly betrayed. Micah and Susanna, who would have thought? They were so young, so promising."

"Yes, very promising."

"Traitors! Heretics!" She convulsed with each condemnation, as if the words were unwelcome spirits being cast from her body. As quickly as it started, the storm settled and an uneasy calm came over her. "They came in like wolves, and they almost made off with the flock."

"They got what they deserved," he said, with as much conviction as he could muster.

She put her hands together as if she were preparing to pray, pointing the tips of her fingers towards his chest. "You understand why your actions have been disconcerting for me, yes?"

He felt the sudden urge to clear his throat. "I, uh..."

"They spent countless hours under your roof. Their words dripping into your ears like poisoned wine. But that's not the problem. The problem is the behavior you exhibited at the Fall. It's familiar." She swam in close, as if checking him for a scent, as if lies and deceit carried a particular odor.

"Mother, I assure you, my behavior during the last Fall, while unusual, was simply—"

"You felt pity for them? For their cause?"

"The violence was unexpected, I will admit."

"Unexpected? The Scriptures command that we cut the Curse directly from the womb of the afflicted."

"Yes, Mother, I am aware. But you promised them a painless death in exchange for their cooperation."

"I know what I promised them. But the people of this community were there to witness the Fall. They were expecting that tradition to be adhered to. Do you know what would happen to this settlement if the people knew that we'd been infiltrated by spies, and not only that, but that we were unable to detect them for eight months? It would shake their faith. It might even cause them to lose faith. It would put everything we've built in jeopardy. So, we keep up appearances. No one can ever know what really happened, Doctor. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Which brings me back to my question. Did you feel pity towards them? Towards their cause?"

"No, Mother, I did not. They were Union scum. They betrayed you. They betrayed the people. They betrayed our Father. The Fall was the only appropriate outcome. I was dehydrated, that's all. The heat has not been treating me kindly in my old age."

"You knew nothing of them being Union?"

"I promise you, I did not. I swear it, before our Father."

"Okay, Doctor, okay. You speak it and I believe it." The words leaving her lips and the tone in her voice seemed to be of two different minds.

"You have my loyalty, Mother. What can I do to prove it?" He knew the awful realm of possibilities that such a question opened up, but they paled in comparison to the potential consequences that accompanied her mistrust.

She nodded curtly, as if that'd been what she was waiting to hear all along. "Tell me, do we have anyone approaching the end of their conception period?"

"Gregory and Charlotte Rowson, they're the closest we've got. But they're only seven months into their covenant."

"Hmm, I sense the curse on them, but still, we must abide by Scripture." She turned from him and began gliding towards her desk, the shadows receiving her like an old friend. The blades of her shoulders jutted out against the thin surface of her robe. How could a woman so small and frail invoke such fear?

"I will keep a close eye on them. I will pay them a visit this week."

She waved him off. "Yes, of course." She stared up at the crude drawing behind the desk. "Tell me, do you know Colton Otterman? His father is Terrence, he's in charge of the wells."

"I'm familiar with them."

"Yes, well, I've been getting some rather distressing reports regarding young Colton. He took the Oath of Celibacy last year. However, someone told me that they spotted him exiting the home of Kati Zulma, it was well past the appropriate hour. See what you can find out and then report back to me."

"How old are they?"

"They are both seventeen; old enough to know better."

"And what will happen if they are... breaking the oath?"

"You know the rules, Doctor. To break the Oath of Celibacy carries the same penalty as a barren womb; they will both take the Fall."

"Yes, Mother."

"You may go now."

"Yes, Mother." He should have been floating on clouds, a stupid grin on his face. He'd been granted a reprieve. Yet, somehow, he felt worse.

"Oh, Doctor, one more thing."

He stopped, holding the door back with one arm.

"Do you know how I found out about Micah and Susanna?"

"I hadn't given it much thought, Mother. You are His prophetess. I do not question your power."

She removed the Gospel and the chalice from the window sill, unmoved by his attempt at flattery. "I have eyes and ears everywhere. You'd do well to remember that as you go about the task I have given you."

# 8

It was early morning; the sun was rising quickly at their backs and already sporting a mean glare. There were no paths, just the occasional strip of faded black concrete snaking up out of the sand, remnants of the old roadways. There were no signs pointing the direction. No markers of any sort. Just flat dusty earth blemished by unidentifiable pieces of debris poking up out of the ground. All they had was the map and Dominic's knowledge of the terrain.

"Is it always this hot?" Lerah grumbled.

"It gets hotter."

"I can't do this, I've gotta shed some layers." She started to remove the travel pack.

"You're not shedding anything. The jacket breathes, it absorbs the heat, it's made for this, let it do its job."

"It's not breathing fast enough."

"Taking it off won't help; your skin will scorch and blister. You'll be even more miserable and I don't think I can handle your whining."

For a moment she looked as if she might shed the jacket as a simple form of protest. Instead she settled on huffing and puffing and shooting daggers with her eyes.

Dominic raised his collar against a fitful gust of wind. "Not much else you can do out here but duck and move. You've gotta be careful with your eyes and the grains of sand flying around. You get one of those bastards wedged up under your lids and it'll curl you up like a baby." He didn't know if Lerah heard him.

"Wow, I honestly didn't imagine it like this." She was looking up and down, left and right. He didn't remember the last time he'd seen someone so affected by nothing.

"You didn't strike me as the type of girl that was easily impressed."

"Who said I'm impressed?" She kicked at a c-shaped piece of black rubber protruding from the ground.

"What would you call it?"

"Fascinated."

"Fascinated? That's a new one."

"Fascinated by the fact that people are born and raised in such shit."

"We are. Some of us even manage to find happiness. Would you believe it?"

She gave a pitiful laugh, as if he'd just told a bad joke. "The power of the human spirit."

"Sister, I was born and raised out here. It might not look like much, but we've got ourselves a little something you might have forgotten about while sitting up there in daddy's lap, having everything fed to you through a straw."

"Oh yeah, do tell?" She draped a hand across the tops of her eyes, trying to get a better view of what lay before them.

"Freedom, down here we've got freedom."

"Squalor is not freedom."

"You call it squalor. I call it people making their own way, with their own two hands."

"Their own two hands? Scraping through the dirt and the filth with their fingers? That sounds lovely."

"At least it's their dirt, their fingers, their decision."

"Yeah, their decision because they don't have any other option. Don't you think if they were offered something better they'd take it?"

"What's it gonna cost them?"

"Huh? Cost them? This isn't a transaction. I know you think everything is about money—"

"Of course it's a transaction. Hause is a showman, he sounds great, but he's as power hungry as any man I've ever met. He's extending an open hand, but lady, the other one is holding the bill."

"You don't know him. The Lord Marshal is a leader. He's noble. He cares. He has given us—"

"And what have you had to give him in return?"

"We don't have to give anything in return! Listen, Genesis works as a family—"

"Did you choose to become a soldier?"

"Stop cutting me off!"

"Just answer the question, did you choose to join?"

She stormed ahead. Little wisps of dust kicked out behind her. She took up her canteen, plucked the top off with her teeth, and began tugging at the contents.

"You might want to lay off that a bit. We got a ways to go before our first stop."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Not when I'm with company. Seems like a hell of a waste."

She sealed up the canteen and let it dangle from her hip.

"So, are you gonna answer my question?" He squinted against the sun as he looked at her, sporting his best good natured smile. She didn't see it. She was pumping out her steps, doing her best to outpace him. If she kept it up she'd burn out, then he'd be carrying her. "Slow it down. We've got to move smart. Especially you, you're not used to this shit. This whole deal is gonna be as hard as you make it."

After a few more steps she dropped the gears back, submitting to reason.

"There you go, let's try to be civil. I'm not interested in fighting you all the way to Reeman."

"That makes two of us," she spoke as if the words were broken glass.

They were trekking uphill, throwing their weight forward to keep their balance, their feet slipping out behind them with each step, leaving deep, drawn out indentions in the sand. Beyond the crest there was just more nothing, just blue sky, mixed with streaks of green and pink, meeting with a flat expanse of red and brown.

"You sure we're going to make this place by sundown?"

Dominic nodded. "Aye, we should make it in plenty of time. I've been through here before. I'd say we're slightly ahead of schedule."

For a time they walked on in silence, crunching across beds of gravel, steadying themselves over patches of powdery sand. Gradually the silence became thinner, until it was practically translucent. Lerah poked the balloon first. "I didn't have a choice."

"Come again," He was busy pulling a chunk of bread from his pack.

"Being a soldier, I didn't have a choice. It's something my father did. It's something his father did. It chose me. When I was born that's the profession that was handed to me by the Union. Some people work in mechanical, some people clean, some work the gardens, I'm a soldier. We fill the holes that need to be filled." She sliced the air with the blade of her hand as if laying a series of cards across an invisible table. "We work as a team. As a family. We all sacrifice and we all benefit. Tell me, what's so bad about that?"

Dominic tore off some bread and offered it to Lerah. She accepted silently. "Doesn't sound bad, it sounds damn near inviting. But there is something to be said for being free to forge your own path. If your belly is full at the end of the day, if you've got a roof over your head, it's because you went out there and you made it happen. You live and you die by the fruits of your labor. It's pure freedom. It's hard but it's pure. Like I said, there's something to be said for that."

"And there's something to be said for being a part of something bigger than yourself." He watched her speak from the corner of his eye; sweat was gathering on her face and the heat was beginning to lay her spiky blonde hair flat against her scalp. "Don't you see the beauty in a world where no one has to struggle? Where everyone sacrifices equally, pools their resources, and in the end, no one has to worry about things like food, water, and shelter? We can have Genesis Towers everywhere; a new beginning for all of humanity. How can you not want that?"

"Yeah, Hause pitched me the pamphlet, remember? He'll be the captain steering the ship. That's what bothers me." It came out harsher than he'd intended, his emotions were meant for Hause.

"You barely know him. If you got a shit impression, that's on you. You were the one shooting people."

"Well, when you've got a point, you've got a point. But I fought in the war. I saw a picture of the Union, and it sure as hell ain't the one you're painting."

"So why the hell are you here?"

"You're really asking me that?"

"Oh yeah, excuse me, I forgot; the paycheck."

He snapped his fingers. "You got it!"

She shook her head, opened up the front of her jacket, and began flapping either side as if they were wings. Dominic's eyes were drawn to the curve of her waistline: a flat board of muscle, outlined beneath a cut off shirt that ended just below her breasts. The sweat worked like glue, plastering the shirt tight against her body.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

"What? Nothing, just checking to see that you got your rifle fitted properly, want you to be able to raise and squeeze if you need to, no fiddling around." He didn't see a rifle, all he saw was a captivating roadmap of abdominal muscles.

"Uh huh," she turned away slightly and did her jacket back up.

The sun had reached its crescendo. The temperatures rising from the earth were officially as hot as those falling from the sky. The sand felt like hot coals burning through the soles of his boots. Flocks of blackbirds flew past overhead, screeching at them, mocking their plight. Lerah's posture was worsening. Her balance faltered and Dominic reached to steady her. She shoved him off. "I've got it. I'm fine." But she wasn't fine. She was wearing a brave face; soldiering on, digging into her training. Perhaps, trying to prove she didn't really need him. They drank sparingly from their canteens as sweat rained from their brows. Lerah finally relented. She stopped and dropped her back against the skeleton base of an old tree stump. She slid down the side, resting her butt against her heels. "I just need a minute."

"Take two. But no more than that, we've gotta make time."

She nodded and took another drink from her canteen, pouring a little water across the back of her neck.

Dominic looked up at the sun and then out across the landscape in front of them, calculating the time and distance between them and their destination. "You see that shadow way out there?" Dominic pointed at a black dot to their extreme west.

"I think so," Lerah panted.

"That's a piece of the old superhighway system. I dug around over there once; just passing the time between jobs. I found a whole graveyard of old cars and trucks. They're all twisted and burned up. Maybe I'll take you through on the way back."

She nodded, not really agreeing or disagreeing. "We learned about the old transport systems; roads, bridges, tunnels. After everyone is united and we've started building the Towers, that's Hause's vision."

"Vision?"

"To bring back the transport systems, to build roads and cars, he told you about the car we're working on, right? It's almost ready to go."

"Yeah, he told me. Bet you wish we had one right about now."

"A car?" she looked up at him, holding the canteen between her knees.

"Or a truck, if you prefer."

She smiled at him, kind of. Not a full on teeth baring grin, a small tug at the corners of her mouth.

He'd take it.

He held out a hand. "Come on, it gets easier. I promise."

She stared, for a moment, as if accepting any sort of nicety from him locked her into some inescapable contract. Finally, she locked her fingers through his, jumped to her feet, and then escaped the hold just as quickly. "Well, I suppose we should get on with it."

"Yes, ma'am."

# 9

People greeted Blake heartily as he passed them by. But the niceties always seemed to come with a price.

"My baby has a rash."

"Grandma June has a cough."

"Who're you thinking is next up for the Fall?"

He used to view the barrage as just another part of his job description. But now he'd been given a new lens to view the attention through: paranoia. "I have eyes everywhere," Mother's words had found a nice comfortable bed in the back of his mind.

Were they watching? Listening? Mother's _eyes and ears_?

He'd do as Mother commanded. Talk to Colton, get a read on him. With any luck it would all come to nothing, just another one of Mother's paranoid delusions. The kid would exonerate himself, Blake would return with a blank page, and be back home in his chair before the sun went down.

As he approached the back of the pump house he could hear the grind and squeal of metal working against metal and the throaty grunts of men laboring. He turned the corner and found a garden of industry. Men with dirt crusted beards and overalls, battling the hard earth with shovels and picks, their round faces beat red, their mouths expelling labored breaths. It wasn't hard to find Colton among the grizzled gathering. He was by far the youngest of the bunch, lacking the callousness that came with old age and a lifetime spent beneath the sun. He was shirtless, sawing away at a well screen, a glistening sheen of muck peppering his torso.

"Colton, my boy, how are you?"

Colton looked up at him, his bangs sticking to his forehead with a thick paste of dirt and sweat. He dropped the saw and stood, extending his hand. "I'm doing well, thank you for asking." Colton had always been a polite boy. Even as a baby, when Blake delivered him, he hadn't been much of a crier.

"Oh, I'm good, just an old man, out for a stroll. I swear everyday is hotter than the last. Do you notice that? Or am I losing my marbles?"

Colton laughed and slapped a little of the dirt off his hands. "I reckon it might be, sir. But I'm out here in it every day, so I might not be the best one to judge. Say, are you looking for my daddy? I think he's out collecting more scrap."

"No." Blake shook his head. A wave of guilt washed over him. He scratched at the back of his neck and looked around for anyone that might be paying special attention to their conversation. Nothing caught his eye. Just men hunched over, digging holes, and capping off metal pipes. "I was just strolling by. You know, not much going on at the clinic today. I realized that you and me have never really talked. I figured I'd stop in, see how you're doing."

"That's kind of you, sir. It's just work and more work for me. How about you? How're things?"

"Slow, but that's a good thing, I suppose. How's the digging coming along?"

Colton puffed his cheeks and released a gush of air through his lips, looking around at the plastic caps, the various lengths of pipe, and the perforated metal sheets littering the ground. It was all an unsolvable puzzle where Blake was concerned. "It's coming, that's about all I can say."

"Well, my cup has yet to run dry, so you guys are doing something right."

"Thank you, sir. That's kind of you to say."

"How about that Fall the other day? That was something. Your first one, right?" Blake didn't want to jump right in with both feet. _Keep it natural. Don't alarm the kid._

Colton looked as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Blake knew the feeling. "It wasn't... well, it wasn't like I'd pictured it."

Blake nodded. "The first one is tough. I was twice your age when I saw my first one and it still sits with me."

Colton seemed relieved to have found a kindred spirit. "That's the thing, it's been sitting with me. I haven't been able to talk..."

Blake signaled for him to lower his voice.

"... I haven't been able to talk to my father," Colton whispered, glancing backwards as if he expected his father to somehow magically appear over his shoulder. "During The Fall he was... cheering. He kept looking at me and I was just standing there... shocked. I didn't expect it to be like that. He grabbed me up, sort of shook me, and said, 'Get with the program, boy'. So I clapped with the rest of them, but... inside," another quick glance over his shoulder, "I felt bad for those people. I still do."

"It's okay. I felt the same way the first time too." _I still do._

"You don't think Mother saw me, do you? You don't think I'm gonna get in trouble?"

Blake shook his head. "Of course not, I'd have heard something."

Colton gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's good news, sir. Good news. I've been living on pins and needles. I barely slept last night."

Blake reached out and wrapped his hand across a sun-beaten shoulder. "It's important that you understand something."

"Like what?"

"The reason for the Fall. Yes, you may have felt bad for those folks, but you understand why they were standing there, right?"

Colton looked slightly befuddled. Not the reaction Blake was hoping for. "I mean, yeah, I know what Mother says. That the Curse is our punishment and that if we're not able to multiply—"

"You know what the Scriptures say. We all know what they say. But do you believe it?"

Colton wiggled his jaw back and forth, scraping his teeth together.

_Come on kid, there shouldn't be a pause here._

He scuffed his feet across the ground and stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. "I understand it."

_No, you believe it. Say you believe it, you dope._

"It's normal to have doubts sometimes, right?"

Blake shook him once to get his attention, to get him to look up and meet his eyes. He spoke low and slow, his voice stern, trying to drill every word through Colton's skull, like a nail through a stubborn piece of wood. "Whether it's normal or not, you cannot let anyone else hear you talking about doubts. Do you understand? If it gets back to Mother... you keep that to yourself and you work it out. You work it out fast."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"They took the Fall because they broke their oath. We've all taken an oath, including you, Colton; an oath to maintain celibacy. That's important. You cannot break it. Do you want to be out on that ledge?"

The tension was back. Colton's face went rigid. The slack went out of his shoulders. A nerve had been struck. "I've got to get back to work, sir." Colton turned away and retrieved his saw from the ground.

Mother was right. There was a problem.

_Damn it, Scroggins. What have you gotten yourself into?_

Mother was at her desk with her pencil, paper, and thoughts.

She was crossing off notes as quickly as she scribbled them.

_We've inherited this Curse. But we've also inherited this earth. So we must fight. There is hope. Hope in Multiplication. We find ourselves our true selves in the will of our Creator._

There was a pounding at the door.

Room shaking.

Ear splitting.

Only two people had the courage to interrupt her so abruptly. She threw down her pencil and took in a mouthful of liquid from the chalice. "For the love of our Father, come in! Come in, you simple animals!" She stamped her feet against the floor and clawed at the papers before her.

Zach and Toby. Bless them. Bless their simple minds. Effective? Yes. Meant for one purpose. Enforcing His will.

"Hey there Ma'," Toby poked his head in first and gave her a clueless wave.

"You call me Mother. Just like them. And how many times do I have to tell you not to pound on my door? How many times, Toby?"

"I didn't mean nothing by it."

"That's the problem, isn't it? You never mean _nothing_ by anything you do. You're a sideshow act. You're just going through the motions."

"Well... yeah, I guess so."

She'd lost him. She always lost him. Three or four words in and his eyes glazed over. He'd stand there, slack jawed, drooling, listening to her speak, and then he'd just agree.

Such a simple animal.

"Both of you, get in here, and shut my door... gently!"

Zach rolled in after his brother, closing the door as if he were setting an infant to rest in its cradle.

"How'd the meeting with Doc Scroggins go, we gonna toss him?"

Such a crude way with words. "We're not _tossing_ anyone, dear. Not just yet." She flinched. The pain. Like little bolts of lightning behind her eyes. She took a shaky sip from the cup. "I've got the Doctor performing a small task for me."

"He's gonna fuck it up, wanna bet, bro?" Toby kicked at his brother with the side of his boot.

"Language! Language! Language!" Mother grasped the corners of the desk as if she were gathering the strength to flip it across the room.

"Sorry, Mother." Toby dropped his chin towards his chest, causing the fat around his neck to donut out in sweaty rings.

Zach took up the mantle, carefully. "So, Mother, about Scroggins?"

"Yes, well," she composed herself, rubbing her hands across the front of her thighs, "it's about that boy, Colton."

Toby jumped up and down, shaking the room, and raising his hands in celebration. "Yeah, yeah, I saw that little... I saw him coming out of her house... her bedroom window. I saw it."

More lightning. Another drink. Such a simple creature. "Yes, I know, son, I know. I've got him looking into it."

"So, if Toby saw it, why do you have the Doc looking into it? Let's just grab Colton and the whore and make them take the Fall."

Toby rubbed his hands together as if warming them over a fire.

They see nothing. They're so blind. Only good for one thing. "It's a test."

Toby and Zach looked to each other and then back to Mother.

Vacant.

"There have been questions," she rotated her hand in tiny circles, trying to coach them towards the answer, "regarding the Doctor's faith?"

They both shook their heads.

"Oh for the love... I want to see if he'll give them up to me or if he'll try to cover their indiscretions."

"We already know he'll cover it up, we saw how he did with Micah and Susanna."

"There were questions there. There were complications, as you well know," she said, giving Zach a hard look. "This will make things more... clear."

"I like it, a test, let's see if old Doc Scroggins is up to no good," Toby said, bobbing his upper body back and forth to some invisible beat.

Mother looked up from her hands, pulling the bottom of her eyelids down with the tips of her fingers, exposing the blood red tissue beneath. "Keep an eye on him. Follow him. See what he does. Can you do that?"

"What do you want us to do if he's..." Zach snapped his fingers, searching for the words.

"Covering for them?" Mother raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, what do you want us to do?"

"Well," Mother stared into the chalice and watched her reflection wiggle across the glossy surface of the liquid, "that's the question, isn't it? The big one. What do we do with Doctor Blake Scroggins if he is the heretic I suspect?"

"Shoot him down like a dog." Toby racked an invisible shotgun.

"The people love a good Fall," Zach said.

Mother shook her head. "No, we can't. Not with Scroggins." She jumped her elbows up onto the desk and pointed an index finger at each of them. "If you catch Scroggins trying to cover this up, you deal with him quickly and quietly. I never want to see his body. No one is to ever know what happened. He just... disappears. Do you understand? That man holds power, people like him. I will not risk a rebellion. If I've made myself clear, just nod your heads."

They both nodded. Toby with big jowl jiggling neck cranks. Zach with a quick tip of his chin.

"Okay, get out of here."

_Simple creatures._

Colton waited until Blake was out of sight before he threw down his saw and dismissed himself from the work crew.

Mother knew, about him and Kati... she knew.

Sending Blake had been a poor cover. The old man may as well have been wearing a sign with his intentions printed across the face.

It was fine.

Totally fine.

He and Kati had talked about this. They'd planned for it.

Just... not so soon.

She'd be working the greenhouse. He had to warn her. Make sure she was ready to pack and go. Colton had it all planned out. But they had to go tonight. It was their only shot.

He slowed his jog once he hit the square. He kept his head down. His hands in his pockets. He stepped up onto the front stoop of the general store and pressed his back against the wall. He could hear Llewyn inside, whistling away, oblivious to the world.

Colton checked his sightlines.

No Blake. No Zach. No Toby.

No one paying him any special attention as far as he could tell. The only one that seemed to notice him was old lady Harriet. She was standing on the outskirts of the hustle and bustle to avoid getting trampled, using one hand to balance on her walking stick as she swung a freshly plucked turnip in the other.

Colton ducked into an alley that separated the greenhouse from the general store. The ground, muddy from the water runoff, sucked incessantly at his shoes. The greenhouse was a simple tent structure with a wire frame, propped up by a set of wooden poles. He was caked to his ankles by the time he reached the back entrance. He pushed the plastic aside and crept in. The air was oppressive. His lungs shrank. Each breath was a battle. His clothes became twice as heavy and twice as small. He quickly pushed the discomfort to the back of his mind. His main concern was ensuring that Kati was alone. Her mother sometimes joined her for the shift whenever she grew tired of being stuck indoors. He inched his head up over the nearest table. Parting the planter boxes with the backs of his hands.

There she was.

Kati.

Alone.

She was watering down a row of vegetables, massaging the young leaves between her fingers. Her red hair was frizzy. The apron she wore was streaked with dirt. But she was smiling. That heart squeezing, stomach dropping smile that had drawn him to her months ago, even as he'd attempted to grasp on to every handle and foothold created by the Oath of Celibacy.

He sprang up from his cover. She spooked and banged into the table behind her. She dropped her watering can and flattened her hands against her chest, as if trying to keep her heart from leaping out and running away.

"Colton, what are you doing here?" She set the bucket down, threw off her apron, and ran into his arms. "You scared me, you jerk." She kissed him.

Once. Twice.

Hard.

Her hands tracing the lines of his face.

"I'm sorry, I had to see you."

"What's wrong, Colton? Tell me, what's wrong?"

"It's time, sweetheart."

"No, but we've been careful..."

"I know we have. But Mother knows."

"What? She spoke to you? Why are you here if she knows?" She was scared now. She let loose of Colton and twisted around as if she were going to break for the front door. "Are they coming for me next?"

"No, it wasn't her. She sent the doctor around to see me."

"Doctor Scroggins? Why would she send him?"

"Listen, I don't know, okay. But it's just... the things he was saying. They know, alright."

There were tears in her eyes now. "What are we going to do?"

He wrapped his arms around the back of her neck, the earthy scent of her hair filling his nostrils. "Exactly what we planned. We leave. Tonight."

She shook her head, her breath catching in her throat. "No, no," she tried to pull away but he held her, his arms now clasped around her lower back, "what if we don't have to? We could just go to Mother, tell her everything, and do the ceremony. We can be together. We can conceive, I know we can." She was unraveling. The plan was unraveling.

"Kati, no, listen to yourself. We've talked about this. What if we can't? Huh, then what? It's not like we'll be able to escape. It'll be too late. They watch you close while you're trying. To make sure you're not going to spook. I can't risk losing you. I can't bear to see you take the Fall."

The sobs now came in big uncontrolled waves. "This is happening so fast. I'm scared. My mom... my dad... I'm scared."

She was growing heavy in his arms. He kissed the top of her head. "I know sweetie, I know. I'm scared too. Believe me. We'll see them again. I promise you. But we've got to get out of here first. After that, I'll think of something."

Somewhere in his words she found comfort. "Okay," she blinked the remaining tears away, "what do I need to do?"

"You've got to act normal. Finish up here. When you go home tonight, pack your bag and I'll come get you."

She nodded rapidly. "I can do that."

"I've got to go now before someone catches us. See you tonight my love. It's going to be okay."

He broke from her grasp, holding her gaze until his back touched the tent flap. She blew him a kiss as he slipped quietly back into the muddy alleyway.

# 10

The sun was just sinking over the horizon; the hazy outline of the inn presented itself in the distance. As they moved up the bumpy path, they came across a young boy. He was tending to a herd of goats milling around a small feed trough. They were bucking their heads and bleating loudly. He stood and offered a delicate wave. "Hey there, folks."

"Hey yourself, kid. You work the inn?" Dominic reached out to one of the goats gathered beneath the small, wooden overhang and scrubbed at its bristly head.

"My pa works it, I work the goats." The boy pushed one of the goats aside with his leg and crouched to lift another heavy pale of feed into the trough; his scrawny arms strained against the weight.

"Here, let me get that for you, kid." Dominic nudged him back, grabbed the metal pale from the bottom, and flipped it over into the trough. The goats recoiled at the initial splashdown but quickly recovered and fought their way back in, knocking the bucket aside with their bony heads. "The damned things act like they haven't eaten in a week."

"That was kind of you, mister."

Dominic dropped the empty bucket into the boy's arms and slapped his hands clean across the front of his duster. "Don't mention it."

"Is there anyone up there right now?" Lerah asked.

"Just my pa."

"No guests?"

"Nope, just my pa. I'm sure he'd be glad to have you."

"Alright, kid. Thanks." Dominic resumed the hike towards the small inn at the top of the hill.

Patches of dry brown grass sat off to their left and right; the earth's attempt at reviving itself.

"Breakfast, it's gonna be goat's milk and gruel, wanna bet?"

Dominic shook his head. "I don't make bets I know I'm gonna lose. Besides, what's wrong with goat's milk and gruel?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"I grew up on it." Dominic shrugged. "Made me the man I am today."

"That's your endorsement?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I think I'll be skipping breakfast."

"Just means more for me." He winked at her as they stepped onto the porch. A lantern cast a small pool of yellow light across the floorboards. Clay pots, bearing withered plants, hung from the rafters. Dominic stamped his feet against the planks.

_Sturdy. Beaten to hell, but sturdy._

"Are you going to check the walls for rot, too?"

"There's much to be said for a stout structure." Dominic had another go at the floorboards. The empty pots began to sway. "We were staying in this little rat hole of a building during the war. One night the entire top floor gave out while we were sleeping, the damndest thing. I was fortunate enough to be up top. One guy below us, he wasn't so fortunate. He took a beam right through the throat."

Lerah scrubbed at her eyes. "You know, that's splendid. Great story. However, I don't think that's going to happen to us tonight. Let's just get a damn room."

"After you." Dominic motioned for the door.

It swung open before she could reach it.

The man on the other side was a wilted fella. His skinny arms were crossed tightly over his chicken chest. His face was puckered. Folds of cracked, leather skin were gathered around his eyes, nose, and mouth. He smacked his lips twice as he took them in, exposing toothless gums. "What's with all the racket?"

"I apologize, sir; I was just admiring your inn, built nice and strong."

"Admirin'? By tryin' to punch a hole through the floor?"

"No sir, no. You see—"

Lerah held a finger to Dominic's lips and approached the old man, her femininity on full display. "You'll have to excuse him. He's a bit of an oaf. He works with his hands—"

"Don't we all?" the old man said.

"Yes, well, he has a keen interest in all things... structural. Anyway, we talked to your boy down there—"

"Is he still working them goats?"

"He was, yes."

"Little bastard is slower than a one legged dog with a noose around its neck." The old man found himself quite the joker. He slapped at his knees and buckled over in the doorway, laughing, coughing, and spitting some unidentifiable goop at his feet.

Lerah looked ill.

Even Dominic felt a little twist in his belly.

"Yes, so, um, he mentioned that you had rooms available."

The old man nodded and turned, still laughing and coughing, but now motioning for them to follow.

They were both careful to step around the slime he'd deposited on the ground.

"Go ahead; shut that damn door, will ya?"

Dominic kicked it closed with the heel of his boot.

The inn boasted a modest, slightly rundown décor. There were two small wooden tables, topped with hand carved mugs and candles eating through the last of their wax. There was a pile of dusty books on a knee high shelf, built right into the wall beneath the front window. There was an old piano in one corner that looked like it might collapse into a heap of sticks and ivory if someone so much as touched it, and a set of narrow stairs disappearing into the ceiling.

The old man took his place behind the counter and slapped a ledger down on the surface, the pages stained yellow. "I'm Ezra. I didn't catch ya'll's names."

"I'm Dominic and this is Lerah."

"Well, pleasure meeting you folks. How many nights will ya'll be staying?"

"Just one, we've got to set out early."

Ezra focused in on Lerah and the hardware strapped across her back, as if he were just seeing her for the first time.

"We got a problem?" Dominic moved Lerah back, standing in Ezra's line of sight.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"That's a fancy piece she's carrying. I'm guessing by the bulge in your jacket you've got something similar. You two folks Union?"

Dominic leaned forward and grasped the edge of the counter. He set his jaw and returned the old man's steely gaze. "Now, what would make you go off and ask something crazy like that?"

"I wasn't talking about you, big boy. I was mostly talking about the girl. You're Outlander, through and through, that much is obvious. She... well... she's too clean. No seasoning to her. Smells like Union. Ain't no Union welcome in my inn." If Dominic knew one thing about old folks, it was that they didn't scare easy, especially Outlanders. They'd seen it all. They'd done it all. If a lifetime in the Wastes didn't break them, there wasn't much that could.

"Well, if you know I'm an Outlander, then you know I wouldn't work with some Union cunt. I'm actually getting offended with how you're talking about my wife, old man. Now, here's the deal, we're just two travelers looking for a roof, nothing more. I'll give you the coin. You give me a key. We'll call it a night. Square deal?" Dominic leaned in as close as he could, without going over the counter.

Ezra made a show of sucking at his gums and scanning the ledger. "I guess it'll work, so long as you got the coin."

"We've got the coin. Honey?" Dominic stepped away and let Lerah present the two pieces needed to procure the room as he unhooked their canteens. "Have your boy fill these up for us."

"Sure thing." He took a key from one of the three hooks behind his head and slid it across the counter. "First room, up there on your left."

"'Honey?" Lerah hissed as they made their way up the stairs.

"What, you don't like it? What pet name would you prefer?"

"Want me to knife you in your sleep?"

"We've really got to work on your foreplay, babe."

She watched him. He was hovering over a small wooden table, unloading and loading the magazines on each of his weapons, examining each bullet for imperfections. A cigarette hung from his lips, dripping ash and embers with each turn of his head. He'd shed his duster. The sleeves of the shirt beneath it rode high across his biceps. His arms were a series of scars and ropey veins, tied tight around thick posts of hard muscle.

"You're sleeping on the floor, right?" Lerah tossed her jacket across the mattress and began removing the guns and knives from her body.

"That doesn't seem very husbandly of me." Dominic's tongue worked back and forth across his lips as he held the rifle up against the candle light and racked the slide.

"Well, seeing as how we're not actually married—"

"Appearances, my dear, appearances."

"We've made our appearances, bad enough we're stuck in the same room."

"Yeah, well, don't go patting yourself on the back. That old timer pretty much made you for Union." He reloaded the rifle, stood, and removed his shirt. He was all sharp edges and olive skin; pure sinew. His chest was a hard sheet of iron set above a washboard of cold, cascading steel. She'd seen him without clothes before, hanging in the dungeons, but that was different.

Her anger at a boil.

A darkened room.

Loviathar and his hammer.

He'd just been a piece of shit Outlander.

She looked away, her cheeks were flushed. She pushed the jacket and guns aside and sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him. "I'm sorry that I don't stink of goat shit and piss."

"I don't think that's what gave you away."

"Oh, do tell. What is it that gave me away?" She turned the upper half of her body to face him, propping one leg up on the mattress.

He was sitting down beside the table, legs crossed. His guns were lined up in front of his knees, from largest to smallest. The machete was lodged in the wall above his head. "The way you carry yourself: your eyes, your shoulders, the way you hold your head. Outlanders, we don't know a whole hell of a lot; mile-to-mile, minute-to-minute, it's all a gamble for us. The Union, you guys got it figured out. You treat the Outland the same way you treat the Towers, like you can see the angles. Like the world owes you something, like it's gonna pay up as soon as you walk in the room. That ain't the way it works out here. You might be able to see all the moves coming from way up there in the Towers, but out here, sister, it's unstable."

"Oh, what do you know?" She waved her hands at him and jerked back around. Why did she even bother asking the brute for his opinion? Does the eagle ask the ant for its perspective on the world? Does the predator seek advice from the prey? "You're sleeping on the floor."

"Have it your way, lady. I've slept on more floors than you have beds. It's no hair off my balls."

Savage, of course the floor of some shithole inn would possess all the comforts of home. "Would you blow out the candle?"

"Why?"

"Because, I'm trying to get ready for bed. Blow out the candle."

"Shy?"

She stood up and came towards him with her fists raised. "If you don't blow out the—"

"Okay, shit, I've got it." He laughed and sat up on his haunches. He gave a quick puff and the room was cloaked in shadow, save for the moonlight streaming in through a single window.

She felt her way back to the end of the bed and undid her pants. She worked them down across her thighs and feet. She picked them up from the floor, folded them, and laid them across the ledge of the window. Even in the darkness she couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes were caressing her body, or the pleasure it aroused inside of her.

# 11

Monte had come in from the east three days prior. It'd been a grueling journey, but one that he wasn't given a choice in making, his brother had granted him a handful of men and commanded him to move out. There were reports coming from the settlements that the Union was making a push not seen since the war, this time with coins rather than bullets. The settlements were what kept Rebel blood flowing; kept their ranks stocked and their bellies full. If the known settlements fell into Union hands, then there was nothing stopping them from pushing east and driving the Rebels beyond the Glass Mountains and into the irradiated seas for good. Monte and his crew had been tasked with discovering the severity of the situation. The decision to deploy for war would rest on the shoulders of their report.

Their camp was a circle of large tents made out of hand spun yarn comprised of yak's wool. They were ugly, dark brown structures. The air around the encampment was filled with the smell of boiling stews. Directly in the center of it all there was a roaring fire, with the scorched carcass of some unidentifiable beast fueling the flames with fat drippings. Men stumbled from tent to tent, crashing into one another, occasionally stopping to take in the aroma of the seared flesh. Their bellies were filled with alcohol and their minds presently void of responsibility.

"Hey, we got ourselves an intruder." The man speaking was shirtless, with splotchy patches of black hair plastered across his gaunt body. He held a wine skin in one hand and a sawed off shotgun in the other. The barrel of his shotgun cut woozy circles across the small figure standing on the outskirts of their encampment.

More men rushed from their tents, in various states of undress, carrying a variety of death dealing hardware.

"Eh, he's just a kid."

"Could be a dwarf."

"What's a dwarf doing all the way out here?"

"I dunno, them things is tricksy."

"You some sort of dwarf expert now?"

"I'm just covering all the angles."

"Enough about the dwarves. It's obvious that it ain't no dwarf. His head is too small and his legs ain't fat enough. What do you two idiots know about dwarves anyway?"

"I seen a dwarf take a cock the size of a skyscraper once."

"Bullshit!"

"Nope, seen it with my own eyes. Big black cock, had the width too, damn thing was as fat as Genesis, but not nearly as pretty. Dwarf looked like a garden snake trying to swallow a rat. Little bitch did it though, impressive, they should have taken that show on the road, I'd have paid good coin to see it again."

"Enough about dwarves and black cocks, you're killing my buzz. Come forward boy; let me get a look at you." Monte entered the mix, silencing the drunken banter. He was a lanky figure without a sprig of hair to be found on the front half of his head. He was wearing only a pair of dirty underwear. He was also the only one not waving a weapon around as if it were some extra appendage.

The boy stepped into the firelight.

"That's the innkeepers little brat, the goat herder."

Monte took a knee and motioned for the boy. "The name is Montejano, but my friends call me Monte. I reckon we're friends. We ain't gonna hurt you kid."

"I reckon I'm fine where I am," the boy spoke for the first time, hugging himself, eyeing them warily.

Monte stood, took a mouthful of hard drink, and spit it on the fire. Flames curled up into the air, engulfing the impaled animal carcass. "What can we do for you, goat herder?"

"Pa said you wanted to know if Union bodies turned up around the inn, said you were offering up coin."

There were seven Rebels standing around the fire. Their laughter and jest ceased all at once, their full attention turned to the boy.

"Your pa kill himself one?" Monte asked, taking another swig from the skin.

"Nah, he ain't killed himself one."

"Well, what are you getting on about, goat herder?"

The boy shrugged. "Ya'll still offering the coin or not?"

Monte wiped some of the excess alcohol from his lips. "In truth, it's my brother that handles the coin. We've got ourselves a rather limited allotment of funds for this particular outing."

"Well, where's your brother?"

"East, young sir, beyond the Glass Mountains, taking in the grandeur of the irradiated seas. Have you seen the seas? Oh, they are a sight. Beautiful and green and deadly, the water will make your skin slop right off, seen it happen with my own eyes."

"Well, go get him."

The men around the fire laughed. One of them turned the roasting carcass, discarding the fat drippings, igniting bursts of spark and flame as they sizzled against the face of the charred woodpile.

"How about I draw you a map? You can go get him, we'll wait right here for your return."

"This is a good tip. My pa said so."

"Your pa said so? Well, I'm convinced; the old drunk said so."

"She's with an Outlander, big guy, scary looking."

"She? Well, perhaps there's something here after all, you vague little bastard."

"Could be a bit of fun," the man turning the carcass slobbered.

"I'd like to know what a Union cunt is doing with an Outlander," Monte spoke with renewed interest. "They armed?"

The boy shook his head. "Just some rifles, I think. We didn't search them or nothing."

"Yeah, well, it don't pay to assume. We'll act as if they got a bomb. Kid, you got a deal. I'll give you part up front, out of my own purse. If your tip pays off, there will be more. Agreed?"

The boy stepped forward and offered his hand.

Monte seized his wrist and yanked him the rest of the way, grabbing the boys face between both of his calloused hands and squeezing his cheeks together. "If this turns out to be anything other than easy picking, it falls on you and your old man. We clear on that, goat herder?"

"Yes sir, we're clear." The boy was smart enough not to struggle against Monte's hostile embrace.

"Good," Monte shoved the boy backwards, planting him on his ass, "this bitch and her Outland bastard, they are held up in your pa's place?"

"Yes sir." The boy stood and began brushing the dirt from the back of his pants.

"You run back and let your old man know we're coming."

And with that, the boy turned and broke towards the inn.

"You four," Monte drew a half moon across the four men standing around the fire, "strap up and go take care of this. Kill the Outlander and take the bitch alive, if you can. I think my brother would appreciate a Union toy to play with."

"You got it boss."

"You sure you don't wanna send more?" asked the man twirling the meat.

"For some Outlander and some Union cunt? Nah, this is low hanging fruit my friend, low hanging fruit." Monte sat down, the fire warming his shins, watching his dinner crackle and pop as the four men he'd chosen retreated to their tents to gear up.

# 12

He heard them coming. The floorboards sang an off key groan in his ear, announcing their approach. He guessed three, maybe four, judging by the space in time between each step. He sat up on one knee. He took his pistol in one hand and his machete in the other.

"Lerah," he whispered.

She snored once and rolled over on to her stomach. The moonlight bathed her body. The covers were kicked down around her ankles. Her panties were bunched up in the crack of her ass. She was a heavy sleeper. Not a positive trait for a soldier.

He leaned out and kicked the bottom of the mattress with the heel of his boot, lifting it from its frame and dropping it back down again.

That woke her.

"What the hell?" She sprang up and scrambled towards the head of the bed.

"Shh!" He brought a finger to his lips. He lifted his gun and motioned towards the door.

She made her move for the edge of the bed just as the door came spiraling off its hinges. The strobe light flash of automatic gunfire filled the room. Lerah rolled, head over heels, across the mattress towards the far wall. Geysers of feathers leapt into the air as bullets touched down behind her.

The first gunman ran into the room, his arms extended, still spraying lead in Lerah's direction, his lips spread in some drowned out battle cry. He was oblivious to Dominic crouched in the darkness beside him.

Dominic moved from the shadows and brought the machete down like he was splitting a wedge of log. The blade went right through both of the gunman's arms, taking them off at the elbows. The gun fell to the floor, a dead finger still clasped across the trigger, emptying its magazine on the way down. Dominic brought the machete across the man's throat before he could register his missing limbs. The force of the blow turned the man completely around. Dominic kicked him in the back and sent him stumbling out into the hall, spraying blood like a busted pipe. The remaining assassins scrambled for cover as their mortally wounded comrade reentered their midst.

"Sonofabitch!"

"We're going to pound your asses!"

"Union motherfuckers!"

One of the men hooked his arm around the doorframe and sprayed gunfire blindly. Dominic fell to his belly and rolled back into the shadows as the bullets whistled overhead.

Lerah was crouched behind the bed in her underwear. She was breathing heavy. She had her rifle clutched tight against her chest.

This was her first real gunfight. She had that look: frozen up.

Dominic whistled twice. His first attempt was eclipsed by a wave of bullets tearing through the air. He returned fire. Three rounds through the open door, to keep them at bay. The second whistle got her attention.

Her eyes were dinner plates.

He jabbed the machete towards the window behind her head. "Just cover me. Can you do that?"

She nodded briskly.

"Okay, on three." He jumped into a crouch as another bout of gunfire tore through the room, splintering the walls and shredding the mattress. "One, two..." he set all his weight against his back heel, "fuck it!" He broke into a lumbering sprint, pistol in one hand, machete in the other; a man of his size wasn't built for speed.

Lerah perched her elbows up on the mattress and began spraying a wide fan of fire at the open door, a wild burst of unguided ammunition, her bullets tore across the walls and up into the ceiling.

Dominic tucked his shoulder and leapt towards the square of wood and glass. The materials gave way beneath his weight. He flew out into the darkness. His plummet towards the ground was a short one. He landed against the hard packed earth with a dull thud. Razor sharp pieces of glass and fractured wood were now embedded in his naked torso. His ribs throbbed. The breath had been forced from his lungs. He rolled around in the dirt, unable to express his pain. Debris crunched beneath his body. His eyes were pinched shut. His teeth ground together so tightly that they were in danger of snapping off inside his mouth.

Lerah was still up there, alone.

He had to pull himself together. Push the hurt down. Store it away. Deal with it later.

He rolled over on to his hands and knees. As he hung there a crimson shower pitter-pattered against the withered earth. He stood, slowly, catching his first real breath. A thousand tiny explosions ignited inside the walls of his chest. He took his first steps towards the inn. His legs shook beneath him. His stomach gurgled and threatened to expel its contents. The anguish was damn near blinding.

He took another step.

And then another.

The resistance died, little by little.

Before long he was up the steps and through the door, gripping the pistol and machete. The old innkeeper stood in the center of the room, behind one of the tables. He was just as surprised to see Dominic as Dominic was to see him.

There were volleys of gunfire flowing down from upstairs.

Lerah was still alive and kicking.

Ezra raised his hands. He began waving them gently, up and down, as if he were trying to cast some sort of spell. "Hey, now, hold on one second. Easy big fella, they're here for the Union cunt."

Dominic exploded towards him, slid across the table on his ass, and landed the butt of his pistol across the bridge of the old timer's nose. Ezra went down, hard, smashing the back of his head against the edge of the check-in counter. He lay there on the floor, softly moaning, drifting in and out of consciousness. Dominic stood over him and smashed the old man's left kneecap with the heel of his boot. He started to cry out but Dominic belted him across the mouth before he could finish the utterance, putting him to sleep. Dominic stepped over and smashed his other kneecap, this time Ezra didn't stir.

With that business handled he made way for the stairs.

Another burst of machine gun fire.

Men swearing.

Three rounds from a handgun.

"Bitch has got to be running low on ammo."

"What about the other one that was with her?"

"Hell if I know. Wait them out."

"You see what he did to John?"

"No one else goes in. You guys get me? No one else goes in. That's what they want."

"They have got to be close to empty."

Dominic moved slowly up the stairs, his back against the wall. He went foot over foot, trying his best not to upset the floorboards. He made it to the corner, bracing himself against the pain, against the hundreds of needles prodding at his flesh.

He could hear them reloading.

There was nothing from Lerah. She should have been taking the chance to return fire.

Dry on ammo?

That had to be it, right?

_Think positive, you cynical prick!_

Dominic turned out into the hall.

There were three of them, lined up outside the door.

The first two were stacked up with their backs to him. The third was facing him. Dominic locked eyes with him right out of the gate. He knew, straight away, that it wasn't going to be a clean kill. He dropped in behind the first two men. They were burly fellas, stinking of nature and sweat.

"He's behind..." the third man tried to warn them, but it was too late.

He raised his machete and used it to decapitate the first gunman. He swung so hard that he buried the blade in the wall. He didn't bother trying to work it free. He just left it there, bits of gristle and skin dangling from the metal. He grabbed the next gunman by his hair and pulled him in close. He draped his pistol arm across his right shoulder and sent three rounds spiraling into the chest of the man he'd locked eyes with. The last man standing began twisting and turning in Dominic's grasp, trying to work his way free. Dominic slammed his face against the wall, set the muzzle against his temple, and fired. There was a hell of a backsplash, a concoction of bone and tissue that drenched Dominic's face as the man's head deflated.

"Lerah!" he called as he let the body slump to the floor. He ducked into the room, scanning the darkness with his weapon. "Lerah, don't shoot. It's Dominic." The bed was a scorched pit of feathers and fabric. The back wall had been disintegrated. The muggy night air swept into the room, mingling with the acrid smell of spent gunpowder.

Lerah's form slowly rose from the other side of the ruined bed. Her arms were shaking, her teeth chattering. A whisper of white smoke still licked the barrel of her gun.

"You can go ahead and lower that. They're dead."

"All... of them?" She looked wildly towards the door, as if waiting for the next volley of shrapnel to head her way.

"Yeah, they're all dead."

She stood there in a trance. Then she began turning, taking in the small battlefield that had erupted around her; the bullet riddled wall, the shattered window, the hollowed out mattress. "My pants... where are my pants?"

"I'm pretty sure I took them with me when I went out the window. They're probably outside. We'll get them. No worries."

"You look... terrible... are you shot?"

There were chunks of skin missing from his chest and stomach. The yawning wounds were leaking badly. "No, I fell two stories on to a pile of broken glass."

"You need—"

"Not the time."

She slid into her boots and began making her way around the bed, trying to keep her balance as she slid across the minefield of shell casings. She was as pale as the sheet she'd been sleeping under. If it were any other time the sight of Lerah wearing an undershirt, panties, and a pair of combat boots would be a comical one.

"Get your jacket."

She picked it up from the table and slipped it across her shoulders. "I used up all the ammo."

"These assholes have plenty we can use. We've really gotta go, more could be on the way."

The carnage in the hallway set her back. Dominic didn't think her face had any more color to shed, but she quickly proved him wrong. She just stood there, staring into the abyss of red and gray and piss and shit.

"It's ugly, but it gets easier. Tell yourself, as many times as it takes, it was them or us. Then promise yourself, every time, it's gonna be them." He put his hand on her back and she jolted. "Come on, get with it."

"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine."

"Collect the ammo."

She moved delicately among the shredded carcasses, desperately clinging to her composure as the thick stench of copper and excrement attacked her nostrils. She began ejecting magazines and stuffing them in her jacket pockets. "You sure these will work with our guns?"

"Yeah, they are chambered for the same mag."

A high pitched howl swept up the staircase. "Oooh! My knees! My damned blasted knees! You barbaric sonofabitch! Union cunt! I'll kill you!"

"Collect the ammo and grab the bags, I'll deal with this." Dominic holstered the pistol against his waist, retrieved the machete from the wall, and started down the stairs. "Mr. Innkeeper, I have a few complaints regarding your establishment."

Ezra was set up against the counter, his mangled legs stretched out in front of him. He was sweating bullets from the pain, while doing his damndest to keep a brave face. "Oh boy, they're going to kill you good; that Union cunt too. They'll rope you up. Make you watch while they ride her raw."

"Now, you see, old timer," Dominic tossed the machete from hand to hand as he descended the final two steps, "that's kind of what I need to talk to you about. Who are those men?"

Ezra lifted his head defiantly. "I ain't telling you shit, traitor. Besides, you ain't looking too hot, might wanna get that looked at before you keel over." Ezra gave a sick little laugh.

Dominic crouched in front of Ezra, wincing as pain shot through to his back. He was hurt bad, but there'd be time to tend to it later. "I was afraid you'd say some dumb shit like that, so I cooked up a little game for us." Dominic slapped the top of one of Ezra's broken knees with the broad side of the machete. "Listen up now, it's important you know the rules. I ask a question. You answer it. You refuse, well, I start lopping things off. Things you don't need. It'll be a long time before you bleed out. You think broken kneecaps are painful? You wait until I start sawing your fingers off at the joints."

Ezra refused to make eye contact.

"Who are those men? Why'd you spring them on us?"

Silent defiance. His face was puckered, emitting the occasional sucking sound as he braved the pain pulsing through his legs.

Dominic jumped on him and wrenched one of his bony arms back against the counter, prying his hand open.

Ezra squealed and struggled beneath him. "Okay, okay, okay! Get off me!"

Dominic crawled back. The blade was still cocked and ready to strike. "Last chance."

"They're Rebels, they paid me! They're looking for information on Union!"

"Why?"

"Why?" Ezra laughed. Saliva flowed eagerly across his chin. "Just cause the war is over for them don't mean it's over for us. Some folks don't wanna live under no boot heel."

"Freeze, mister!"

The boy. The goat herder.

"I'd take your hand away from that there pistol and drop that blade. He's a hell of a shot with a rifle," Ezra said.

Dominic dropped the machete and stood, slowly raising his hands above his head. "Don't you got some goats you need to tend to, son?"

"You throw that pistol, mister. I'll drill you!"

"I have no doubt you will, son. No doubt. You've got me dead to rights. But she's got you too." Lerah was at the top of the stairs, her sights set on the boy's head. "Now, I've got no interest in seeing a kid come to an early end. So, drop that gun, we'll walk on out of here and leave you to tend to your old man and the goats."

"Don't you drop that gun, you little bastard! You hear me? You shoot this sonofabitch dead!"

"Your old man has gotten a lot of people killed tonight. You don't need to be one of them." Dominic turned as he spoke. There was no killer standing there. Just a piss scared kid. The rifle trembling in his hands was busted all to hell. Damn thing would probably explode in his face. Still, Dominic wasn't much on taking chances that didn't need to be taken. He approached the boy slow, hunkered down, his fingertips leading the way. He watched the boy's trigger finger, closely, very closely. "Come on, just lay it down and let us walk out."

"Drop it or I drop you!" Lerah leaned across the banister, wearing her panties and boots; she had their bags secured across either shoulder. There was no way she'd miss at that range. A gentle squeeze and she'd drill a round straight through the top of the little bastard's head. It'd come out of the roof of his mouth and blow his jaw off. It'd be messy business.

"Lerah," Dominic held a hand up, "I've got this. We have a smart kid here. I can see he's going to do the right thing." Dominic took a step. And then another. One more and he'd be able to grab the gun and yank it away.

"Alright!" The rifle rattled to the floor. "It's not even loaded, mister." The boy tripped over his own feet and fell back on to his ass.

"You stupid little shit!" Dominic lifted him from the floor by the collar of his shirt. "You don't ever point a gun at a man unless you intend to use it." He brought the back of his hand across the boy's mouth, bloodying his top lip. He whipped him around and tossed him to the floor beside Ezra.

"Our canteens, get them."

Ezra spit a ball of bloody mucus at Dominic's feet.

Dominic raised the machete. "Where are our canteens?"

"Behind the counter... they're behind the damned counter!"

"Get them." Dominic nodded to the boy.

He moved like he was getting paid for it, rushing spastically around the counter and returning with the canteens in a flash. They were brimming with fresh water as Dominic scooped them into his arms.

"Sit your ass back down. Neither of you move until we're gone."

The boy was crying now, his knees curled up against his chest.

"You get all the ammo?" Dominic asked as Lerah hurried down the stairs.

"Yeah, in the bags." She handed one off to Dominic.

"My shirt? Jacket?"

"In the bag," she said, agitation creeping into her voice.

They backed through the front door, keeping the boy and the old man in their sights until they were off the porch. Then they turned and disappeared into the night.

# 13

There were a lot of things in his life that Blake wished he hadn't seen. Colton sneaking into the back of the greenhouse was one of them. Him and the girl were going to make a break for it. Blake knew it by the way Colton had come running back out with a big goofy smile on his face.

He'd secured his damsel.

The plans were in motion.

Blake had to stop them. They'd get themselves caught and then they'd take the Fall. Enough blood had been spilled. The last thing Blake wanted was to see two kids, dumb and in love, get themselves killed.

With the cover of night and the moon perched behind a set of stubborn clouds, Blake had the advantage of concealment. He'd been watching Colton's house since early evening. He was ducked down on the far corner of town, behind a pile of discarded wood. There was no one to take notice. He hadn't reported back to Mother. As far as she knew he was still investigating. He'd been keeping an eye out for Zach and Toby too, the last thing he needed was for them to poke their snouts into the matter.

_I can handle this. I can set them straight_.

The final window in Colton's home darkened and, just like clockwork, the bathroom window popped open. A canvas bag dropped from the darkness and hit the ground, a plume of dust heralding its touchdown. Two legs, and a torso, followed; it was like the house was giving birth. Colton crouched there in the darkness beneath the window, huddled over his bag. He was being cautious. He was being smart, which wasn't saying much considering his current intentions. When Colton was certain he'd gone unnoticed he stood, shouldered the bag, and began moving through the town square. He stayed close to the buildings, in the shadows, out of sight of the Watch.

Blake followed. He focused in on the pale canvas bag bobbing up and down in the darkness like a phantom. The girl's house wasn't that far down, three buildings, just past the church. Colton dropped his bag and crept up to the bathroom window. He checked his tracks and then reached up and tapped once on the glass. A period of time passed where Blake thought she may have acquired cold feet.

_Oh please, let it be._

There was a wiggle of excitement in his belly.

They could all go home. Go to sleep. Come morning, he could talk to Colton. Get him to see reason.

The window opened. A canvas bag fell. Two feet emerged. Colton helped lower his lover to the ground. They embraced, exchanged a kiss, and then they were off. They were moving quickly towards the front gate, darting from building-to-building and shadow-to-shadow. Blake struggled to keep them in sight.

What was their plan?

Were they just going to storm the front gates and hope for the best?

Politely ask the Watch to open them?

Blake wanted to yell out. To pluck them up by their ears and hustle them back to his house for a reality check. But that'd attract attention. They were already deep within forbidden territory; out together past curfew, with packed bags, moving aggressively towards the front gate. It was enough to take the Fall, more than enough.

They stopped near the lockup. Colton poked his head out to check the walls. Most of the guards had their weapons propped up next to their thighs and were leaned forward on their elbows, staring out over the Wastes with heavy eyes. Colton reached back and pulled Kati from the shadows. They moved quickly, ducking between the few strips of moonlight that managed to fight their way through the cloud cover.

The gatehouse, they were going right for it.

_No, no, please God, no!_

Colton took something from his bag and reached for the handle of the gatehouse door. There was always someone inside with a loaded gun. Kati cowered in the shadows. He gave her a reassuring nod and began to turn the handle, slow and quiet. Blake sprang towards them, desperate to cover the distance before Colton drilled the last nail into the coffin. It was no use. He was too far out. By the time Blake reached the gatehouse Colton was inside. Kati was standing by the open door, shaking and weeping.

The guards up on the wall had taken notice of Blake's cavalry charge.

"Hey, who's down there?"

"Show yourselves!"

Blake looked from Kati to the open door. The candlelight from inside pooled out on to the ground between them. "What has he done? Kati, look at me. What has he done?"

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "I didn't want this... I'm so sorry... please, I just want to go back home."

Blake continued to ignore the commands and threats from the guards as he stepped into the gatehouse. Their words, and the stomping of their feet as they rushed to make their way down from the wall, became nothing more than a dull buzz in his ears. The vision before him quickly overwhelmed his senses.

"Colton... what did you do?"

Colton stood above the crumpled body of the young gatehouse guard. He held a blood soaked butcher's blade in one hand and the fallen guard's rifle in the other. The body was still twitching, still leaking shimmering pools of deep red across the floor.

"What the hell did you do?" Blake moved to disarm him, with no thought towards his own safety.

As Colton swung around he dropped the knife and shouldered the rifle. "Back! Get back, right now, Doc! I don't want to hurt you, but I will." The kid looked like he'd been playing in a sandbox of blood and bodies.

"Put that thing down. You're just going to make it worse. They'll shoot you."

"No, we're leaving, me and Kati. We're leaving, right now. You open the gates, you turn that wheel!" His eyes went to the door. "Kati! Baby! Come on!"

"She's not coming. She doesn't want to go with you. She doesn't want any of this."

"You're lying! You're a liar!" He was all snot faced and crinkled up. He dabbed at his eyes with his forearms. "Kati, get in here! Get in here!"

The footsteps of the soldiers were growing louder, a steady drum beat. "Give me the gun, don't be stupid."

"This is your fault! Your fault! If you hadn't said all that... stuff." Colton shook the rifle like he was trying to dislodge something from the barrel. "We had a plan! You pushed us! You made this happen!"

"Colton, calm down, please, I need you to listen to me. There is a way out of this, okay? But it starts with you putting down the gun. I can help you figure something out."

"Figure something out? What? The Fall?"

"I can talk to Mother, we—"

"Mother is going to bend Scripture?"

"I can explain things to her—"

"We'll take it from here, Doc." Zach appeared beside Blake.

"No, don't hurt him. Let me talk—"

"He said we got it; now get back." Toby grabbed Blake by the back of his shirt and slung him towards the door. With Blake out of the way he turned his attention to Colton. "You ever shot one of them things, boy? Hell, I bet you ain't shot nothin'."

Blake had officially lost control. They were about to kill the boy and all he could do was stand and watch.

Outside the girl started to scream. The guards had seized her. Blake looked and saw her retreating into the darkness, a burly taskmaster gripping her under each arm, her feet dragging limply in the dirt.

"Kati!"

Toby raised his pistol and dropped the hammer. "Don't move, boy."

"I got you both dead on, you hear me! Dead on! I pull this trigger and you die!"

Zach emitted a big, lazy laugh. "Yeah, except you ain't going to pull that trigger." Zach stepped into the barrel, his hands on his hips. "Are you, chicken shit?"

Colton squeezed.

**_: : : click: : :_**

Zach ripped the rifle from his grasp. "Check the safety first." He rammed Colton in the jaw. The boy went straight down and landed in the coagulating blood of his victim.

"Boot check?" Toby asked, eyeing his brother with a malevolent grin.

"Boot check."

Zach was the first one to the party. He brought his foot up and buried the sole of his boot in Colton's gut. The air left Colton's body like a geyser, a hard stream of pressure bursting forth from his lips. Toby followed up with two swift kicks to his lower back. The blows stretched him out and rolled him over on to his stomach. His limbs swam against the pavement. He was like a broken dog, trying desperately to pull himself to safety, gaining little traction against the slick gloss of carnage. He received two more kicks to the side and then one to the upper arm. Zach was setting himself up to deliver a crippling blow to Colton's downturned face.

"Stop it, damn you, stop it!" Blake shoved Zach off balance, sending him stumbling.

"You little bastard!" Toby raised his pistol.

Zach came off the wall, laughing and stroking his chin. "Doc put on his tough guy pants this morning."

Blake backed towards the door, his arms raised in a weak fighting stance. "You hang on, just one second." Zach popped his knuckles menacingly. "I said you hang on, damn it! Now, this boy is going to face judgment for what he's done. But we go by Scripture. Mother is the one that hands down the will of our Father. What do you think she's going to say when he's too busted up to even stand straight at the Fall? Huh? What kind of message is that going to send to the people? No law. No order. We just hand out ass beatings whenever we feel like it. Yeah, that's really going to build the faith, fellas. Mother is going to love that. It'll do wonders for the stability she is trying to maintain. So go on, have your little boot party, I'll be sure to relay all of the details to Mother."

"You just think of it all, don't ya, Doc? Fancy talker." Blake could smell the old saliva clinging to Zach's beard.

"We are a people of rules. We are a people of laws."

"Rules and laws, you hear that Toby?"

"I didn't hear shit. All I heard was Doc whining like a little bitch."

"Me too, but somewhere in there he said something about rules and laws."

"Must not have caught it."

"Bring Colton over to the lockup, let Mother deal with it in the morning; it'll be better for all of us." Blake's hands were still up, shaking; a feeble blockade.

Zach feigned a punch.

Blake winced and emitted a little squeak of terror.

The brothers shared a bout of laughter.

"Toby, go get one of those lazy pricks off the wall to drag this little shit to the lockup."

Toby snorted compliance. As he passed by Blake he gave a lunge of his own. It didn't render quite the same reaction. Zach followed in the footsteps of his brother, mumbling profanities and threats of violence.

Blake took a deep breath, gathered his wits, and prepared to leave.

Just as he reached the door, Colton rolled to his back, moaning. Liquids of various consistencies and colors leaked down his face and neck. "Thank you... Doc..."

Blake stared down at the crumpled, bloody mess of wasted youth. "To hell with you, kid."

# 14

Monte and his three man crew moved up the path towards the inn, partially shrouded by the predawn semi-darkness. The men at his back were on full alert, they had their angles covered; Eugene kept waving his damned shotgun at the sky.

"Eugene, I don't think anyone's gonna ambush us from up there. If they do, we're all done for anyway; just keep those eyes on my back."

There were a few goats tied up beneath a small overhang. They were feeding from a narrow trough. There was no sign of the boy, it was obvious that he'd tended to them recently; their grain was fresh and their water was clear. At the top of the path an unnerving scene began to unfold. There was a small field of broken glass and wood, mixed with spatters of blood. The blood ran in a thick trail from the glass, up the front steps and across the porch, vanishing beyond the closed door.

Monte snatched his handgun from its holster. "Alright boys, eyes and ears open."

When Monte's foot hit the first step it announced his presence, name and all. He crouched low, his men followed suit, all of them tracking the front door. "Be ready, boys."

There was a gunshot from inside. A small hole splintered the door and sent fragments of wood sailing past the left side of his head. He fell over sideways, extended his pistol, and let loose. He was spitting rounds as fast as he could pull the trigger. His men were right there with him, sending rifle rounds and buckshot through the door and in the direction of their invisible assailant. When they were done, only sawdust and gun-smoke hung in the entryway; the ghost of the departed door now rested in a pile of splinters.

Monte only noticed the screaming after the gunshots stopped. It was Eugene; fat, old, slobbery Eugene. He was at the bottom of the steps, rolling around on his back. His right cheek was split in half, his teeth were visible. The bullet that had come through the door had found a target after all.

"Hang in there buddy." Monte got to his feet and reloaded. He took up cover on one side of the door. His remaining two men took the other. "Whoever is in there, throw it down; you ain't gonna get another chance."

"You think they're still alive?"

Monte shrugged. "Damned if I know, you wanna poke your head in and find out?"

"I'm sorry; I didn't know it was ya'll." It was the goat herder.

Monte heard the clatter of the gun hitting the floor and immediately charged in. The boy was standing behind a bullet riddled counter. His hands were raised high above his head.

"I'm sorry; really, I didn't know it was ya'll." The panic in his voice found a new register with every step Monte took in his direction.

Monte slid across the top of the counter and pummeled the boy in the chest with a knee. The boy bounced off the back wall and was met by a stiff fist. He fell to the ground, coughing and dripping blood from a broken nose.

"You didn't know it was us? You little shit! You blew half of Eugene's face off!"

"Kirl vat rittle bathtard!"

"You hear that? Eugene wants me to kill you. I don't like killing little kids, but Eugene is loyal, a good man, and what sort of leader would I be if I didn't do right by him?" Monte grabbed the boy from the ground by his hair and set him back against the wall.

The blood was running over his top lip and into his open mouth. "I didn't know it was ya'll, I swear it!"

"Who'd you think it was?"

"The big guy and the lady from the Union, I thought they came back to finish off me and my pa."

"Where are the men I sent?"

The boy silently blotted his nose. His eyes bounced around the room and welled up with tears.

Monte punched the wall a few inches above the boy's head, creating a fist sized hole. "Where are my men, goat herder?"

"Out back! I buried them out back!"

"You buried them? You buried my men? All of them?"

"They killed them all! Killed them like they was nothing."

"You warned them we were coming, didn't you? You little shit!"

The kid tried to move his head away from the barrel of Monte's gun, but there was no refuge to be found beyond the hard, flat embrace of the wall. "No sir, no! I swear I didn't! They messed up my pa too, real bad, go see for yourself."

Monte looked around the room, silently consulting with the two remaining members of his crew, while Eugene continued to howl away at the bottom of the stairs outside. "Where's your pa?"

"Upstairs, it's the last room on the right."

"Let's play this out. Boys, have this little shit show you where he buried our men. I'm gonna go have a chat with his pa. After that we'll figure out what's what."

The boy went along without resistance, one hand still pinching his nostrils.

"Come on you little prick, show us where you buried our friends."

While his men escorted the goat herder out the backdoor, Monte made way for the staircase. The blood trail from outside had slowed to a trickle. Dried droplets decorated every other step. "You listen here, you drunk old fool. Your boy already took a pot-shot at us and I had to whoop his ass a little. I'll kill you if you shoot at me. So, if you've got a gun, you just go ahead and tuck it away, understand?" Monte was at the top of the staircase, his back was against the wall; he had one foot in the hall, testing the waters.

"I ain't got no damn gun. Ain't got no damn legs. Ain't got no damn nothing. Shoot me you bastard, you'd be doing me a solid."

Monte stepped out cautiously, his pistol leading the way. The goat herder had obviously done some scrubbing, but scrubbing could only do so much. The walls and floors were black where the blood had been spilled. Most of the pools stretched from one side of the hall to the other. He followed the carnage to the first door on the left. Most of the back wall was missing, along with the window. Sunlight spiraled into the room through countless bullet holes. The bed had been hollowed out and scorched black by gunfire. His men had gone down swinging, that much was obvious.

He found Ezra in the last room on the right, a blanket bunched up around his waist. He seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep. He had deep black rings beneath his eyes and his cheeks were void of color.

"You're not looking too good, old man."

"I've seen better days. I heard all the shooting, you kill my boy?"

"No, he's still breathing."

"Good, I can hardly move my ass out of bed, I need the little bastard; this whole place has just gone to shit."

"Yeah, I noticed one of your rooms is draftier than the last time I was here."

"You got an eye for detail. What the hell do you want?"

"What do I want?" Monte wrapped his fingers around one of the old man's big toes and twisted a yelp out of him. "My men and my coin would be a good start. But since my men are fertilizer, and I'm sure you've pickled yourself with my coin, I guess we're gonna have to settle on something else." He applied a final twist before releasing.

Sweat broke out on Ezra's forehead. "Yeah, okay, name it, you brutal bastard, name it."

"The cunt and the cowboy, what do you know?"

"She's Union, he's not. That I know for sure."

"How do you know that?"

"I've been around a lot longer than you, when I know, I know."

"Alright, you bitter old bastard, just tell me about them."

"Like I said, she's Union, through and through. She's clean and vacant, just like the rest of them. But she's timid, she's fresh. It was him that was doing all the talking, all the fighting, destroying my place. It was him that did this to me."

Monte picked up the blanket and had a look at his legs. "Yeah, he got over on you pretty good."

"No shit," he yanked the blankets back down.

"Tell me about him."

"Big bastard, he was a big bastard. Tall. Built like a bull. He was dirty too, lived in, had long hair, face was all bearded up. That's how I know he was an Outlander; Union don't come built like that."

"Yeah, yeah, what else?"

"He had a scar on his face, ran from here to here." He traced a line with his finger, from his temple down to his jawbone. "He had a tattoo around his neck, went down to the middle of his chest. He had—"

"What did you just say?"

"What part, I said a lot?"

"The tattoo, you withered prick. What about the tattoo?"

"It was a tattoo, a big one, like a necklace."

"Be specific! Give me details or I'll break your legs again!"

"He, uh, he, uh, the tattoo, yeah, it was like an anchor... yeah, it looked like some sort of anchor."

Monte lifted his shirt. "Like this one?"

Ezra sat up, wagging a finger, angry recognition lining his face. "That's the exact same one! Ya'll in cahoots? Ya'll working me over?"

Monte kicked the bed, turned, and stormed out of the room. He was down the hallway and at the mouth of the staircase in a few nimble strides. "Boys, let's go. Leave the brat." He took the stairs two at a time. His men were at his back by the time he made it to the porch. Eugene was up on his knees, trying to put his face back together with little success; the fat, fleshy pieces kept slipping between his fingers.

"What'd you find out boss?"

"I know who did this to us."

"Who?"

"I served with the bastard."

"You mean... he was a Saboteur? Thought you said you was the last one left? What's he still doing alive and why is he working with the Union?"

"That's what I intend to ask him, right before I put a bullet in his head."

# 15

Dawn was beginning to bloom behind the hills of shimmering sand and the mountains of detritus left over from the old world. Dominic was propped back against a rust covered car door, sticking up from the sand like the wing of some ancient metal bird. Lerah sat in front of him on a section of crumbling asphalt, occasionally peering over her shoulder at the creeping sunlight as if it were some encroaching enemy. "This is going to sting." It wasn't a warning, just a casual slice of information she served up before pressing the alcohol soaked pad against the laceration on his chest.

Dominic gritted his teeth against the burn and rammed the back of his head against the rusted metal. "That hurts!"

"Well if these get infected and you take a fever it's gonna hurt a lot worse."

"I've been shot, stabbed, beaten, and blown up. I doubt a window will be the end of me."

"Not you I'm worried about." She planted the pad against the next tear in his skin and he recoiled against the cold jab of the alcohol. "That one might need stitches." The opening in his flesh she was referring to rested just below his navel. It seeped a steady trail of fluid that had stained his pants. He was starting to look like he'd pissed himself red. Every time he moved, the fleshy chasm would yawn, and the trickle would turn into a pregnant river of serum and plasma. "You see that yellowish color? That's fat. We've got to sew it up." She wasn't asking permission. She set the alcohol pad down and started digging through one of the bags.

"There better be a bottle of whiskey in there."

"What? Big bad gun for hire can't handle a little needle?"

"Little needle?"

"Oh, please, it's not that bad."

"Have you ever been sewn up by one of those things, absent anesthetic?"

She shook her head. "Nope, I try not to make a habit of getting shot and stabbed."

"If I hadn't gone out that window we'd both be dead right now."

She shrugged. "Perhaps we would."

"You know, a _thank-you_ wouldn't kill you."

"A _thank-you?_ For what?" She sounded genuinely mystified by the prospect.

"Saving your life, perhaps?"

"I seem to remember saving yours as well. Debt is paid."

"The kid with the goats? He wasn't going to shoot me."

She found the aid kit and produced a vicious looking hook; a line of white thread was already conveniently spooled through the eye.

"You're out of your mind if you think you're sticking me with that thing."

"I can leave you here and let you bleed out. You're not going anywhere opened up like that." She spun the needle between her fingers, catching the sun and tossing it into his eyes in quick silver bursts.

"You ever used one of those things?"

"I was trained in battlefield medicine."

"On a human?"

"Pig flesh."

"Oh, yeah... that's just... that's great, pig flesh, you're ready to save lives."

She dropped her hands into her lap, the thread trailing behind the needle, coming to rest across the side of her thigh. "Do you want to bleed out?"

The sun was above the horizon now. Soon it would be overhead, pummeling away at them with fistfuls of fire. "Just do it already."

She grabbed the two flaps of swollen flesh on either side of the wound, pinched them together, and plunged the needle in.

"Argh, that hurts! Can you slow down? Give me a chance to catch my breath?"

"For someone that can't catch their breath you sure are bitching a lot. Besides, if I slow down, it'll just hurt worse." She was giving a hard pull at the top of each stitch, like someone lacing up a pair of shoes. She was preparing to go in for round three. "As many scars as you've got, I figured you'd be used to the needle and thread."

"We've got our own ways of handling injury in the Wastes."

"Such as?"

"Dirt, grass, shit like that; pack it in good and tight, stops the bleeding. The needles you find out here, you wouldn't want them digging into your flesh."

She finished her third loop and pulled it tight. "That explains why these other scars are so damned ugly."

"We used what we had. You do what you gotta do to survive."

She nodded. "That you do, and you hope that someone comes along and offers you better options at some point."

He laughed, despite the pain. "I see what you did there."

There was a small pop as she got the next stitch moving. The blood was really flowing now.

"So, you got any scars worth talking about?"

She had her tongue pinched between her teeth, leaning in close to him, trying to keep the needle and thread in focus beneath the spurts of blood and the chunks of loose flesh. "I've got a small one on my left shoulder blade. I slipped on an obstacle course run during basic. I got hung up on the top of some chain link fence as I came down; bled like crazy."

"Shit, you really are green." Pain spiked through his body. "Ouch, shit!"

She was looking at him over the tops of her eyelids. "Did you forget I've got the needle?"

"Trust me, I didn't forget. But why you? I'm sure Hause had veterans from the war at his disposal; hard fighting men that he could have sent out with me."

"I'm Shadeux, remember?"

"Yes, the elite, the best unit under his command, modeled after the Saboteurs. How could I forget? Are all Shadeux complete virgins on the field of battle?"

She stopped the stitch right in the middle of the down swing; the needle now bridged the gap between the two flaps of flesh. "What was that?"

"No, no, no," he leaned forward, his hands hovering over hers, desperate to dissuade her from inflicting any further pain, "I'm not trying to insult you. I guess I worded myself wrong. I'm just asking... shit, what's the word I'm looking for? Recruits! Yes, that's it! Are all Shadeux new recruits?"

Stitch. Tug. Stitch. Tug. "Two more should do it up."

"Oh, come on, talk to me. You're sitting here stabbing me with a giant metal hook, give me something."

She shook her head. "You're such a pussy." She used the alcohol swab to push away some of the blood before starting her next stitch. "The Shadeux are mostly veterans, men from the war. I'm the only woman. I'm also the only one that was brought in fresh."

"Why you?"

"The short answer? My father. I scored well during training, stuck with the best of them. But like you said, I've got no field experience."

"Hause and your father are close, I take it?"

"Close enough, yes. My father was a big hero during the war; one of Hause's top commanders, before he became Defense Minister. I grew up with Hause sitting at our dinner table. He always told my father that he saw something in me. Like I said before, I've been groomed for the military since I could walk. My father pulled a few strings and got me accepted as a Shadeux. He pulled a few more and here I am with you."

"Your mother, what's her take on all this?"

"She died. I was very young. I barely remember her."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

"I guess I should be flattered, receiving condolences from a man that killed his father."

Dominic crossed his arms, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. He was beginning to find comfort in the ever present pain. "Nah, that's just some shit I say."

"What do you mean?"

"My daddy was a drunk. My momma was a cunt. He drank himself to death off grain alcohol. We may not have much out here, but one thing we're not hurting for is alcohol. I was eleven when we put him in the ground. My momma always said I was the one that killed him. He never wanted me. She said it was my presence that drove him to the drink. So, that's what I tell folks, I killed my daddy."

"Well," she cleared her throat, "I'm sorry to hear that. That's pretty shitty."

Dominic stared at the rainbow of neon colors spread out across the blanket of blue overhead. "It made me into the bastard I am today."

"That it did." She gave one last tug. "There you go, all stitched up. We'll keep an eye on it for infection, but you should be good."

The skin was puckered and red. Blood was oozing from the holes where the needle had punctured the skin. Overall, it looked a damn sight better than before. "This may be my prettiest scar yet."

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment," she said as she tucked the aid bag away. "So, what's the plan?"

"Situation ain't exactly ideal." He stood up, trying the stitches on for size. He could feel the tension in his lower abdomen. Tight. Like pants that had just come off the clothesline. "Hause's plan doesn't seem to be seeding too well."

Lerah was separating out the weapons. She tucked a pistol in her holster and began tightening the sling around her rifle. "The Rebels aren't a threat. We crushed them once, if we have to, we'll crush them again."

"I'm sure your father would be proud to hear you echoing his sentiments."

"What does my father have to do with it? We've disagreed on plenty, trust me. We just happen to be likeminded on this particular issue."

"So, you don't agree with the mission?"

"I do as I'm commanded."

"Obedience without question, admirable."

"It's called being a soldier."

Dominic shook his head. "Just remember, armed men with ambition should never be dismissed lightly. You guys won the war, yeah, but you didn't crush anything. You drove the Rebels back. You can't kill an idea, Hause got that part right. Can you hand me my shirt?"

She tossed the shirt up and then stood and zipped her jacket. "I'm not taking this conversation any further. We don't have the time. What's our next move?"

She was right, daylight was passing them by while they stood and argued politics. "We can't stay on the main road. We're going to have to curve out to the west a little bit."

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"Lerah, this isn't the only road. It's just the quickest and easiest. Curving west and moving north from there will take us further away from the Rebels; ensure our heads stay attached to our bodies a little longer."

"Okay, what else?"

"The inns are out, that's for damn sure."

"What do you mean the inns are out?"

"They're out, too dangerous. We don't know where the Rebels have eyes; old men and little kids, could be anyone." His shirt was stiff with dirt and dried blood; he gripped the hem with calloused fingers and did his best to shake it loose.

"Where are we sleeping then? We're not sleeping outside, that's way too exposed."

"The inns are a coffin. No room to maneuver. I'm not in a position to go through another window. We won't get that lucky twice."

She made a noise that sounded like bitter agreement. "So, what then?"

"We'll make our beds wherever we can. Some place out of the way and under cover, if time allows it." He loaded his body up with a pistol, the rifle, spare magazines, and tied the machete around his waist, concealing it all with his duster. "We'll draw water off the wells after darkness falls. Our food should hold out fine. Bottom line is this, we've gotta stay out of sight. A lot of folks around here hate Union and love coin, that's bad for our life expectancy."

She looked around and nodded, squinting as the sun took its throne high above them. "Agreed," she finally said.

"I'm glad we're able to see eye-to-eye on something."

"Yeah," she hoisted her pack up on her shoulders, "don't get used to it."

# 16

Blake struggled to keep up with Mother. Her white robes rippled behind her. Her hair was bundled atop her head in a fat knot that bobbed back and forth. "Does someone want to tell me how this got so far out of hand? I gave simple instructions, yet you idiots still managed to turn it upside down."

Zach and Toby were behind Blake, uncomfortably close. "Mother, I was doing as you instructed. The boy had done nothing to make me suspicious, so I was keeping an eye on him to see if any of his actions—"

"You were keeping an eye on him? How is it that he managed to sneak from his window, collect the girl, and infiltrate the gatehouse if you were _keeping an eye on him_?" They were using a small path, behind the buildings, just off the town square. Mother wanted to visit the _young heretics_ without attracting attention.

"I didn't move to stop him, initially, because I wanted to see if the girl was going to implicate herself. When they started for the gatehouse I moved to stop them. The distance between us was too great. I didn't reach them in time."

Mother raised her robes and stepped across a muddy patch of earth created by the greenhouse runoff. "Why didn't you cry out? Alert the guards? One of our own lies dead due to your silence."

Blake hopped after her, desperate to explain himself. "I didn't want to alarm the people. I didn't know he was going to act so rashly."

Now Toby spoke up. "Mother, all I know is, when I walked in them doors, Doc was just standing there with his pecker in his hands."

"He had a gun pointed at me."

"It was on safe," Zach interjected.

"And you expected me to know that?"

Toby gave a contemptuous laugh. "You never shot a gun, Doc?"

"I own a varmint rifle. Not exactly the same thing."

"Does it got a safety on it?"

"Enough!" Mother turned and stamped her foot against the ground. "I will stand for no more of this finger pointing. All of you are incompetent fools. Doctor, I gave you a simple task: get a read on the boy and report back to me—"

"Mother, I had nothing to repor—" The look in her eyes stilled the words in his throat.

"And you two fools." She pointed past Blake. "I ordered you to keep tabs on his progress. As far as I'm concerned, you're all equally at fault."

Blake shook his head, confused. "Keep tabs? You had these two following me?"

She dropped her hands to her hips. "Why yes, Doctor. I did. Is that a problem?"

"No, it's just... you don't trust me?"

She let loose with a dry laugh. "Can you blame me, with the way you've been behaving? And now this? Do I have a reason to trust you?"

"Mother, I've always obeyed your commands, never have I faltered."

"If I ask you to draw water from the well and you spill the bucket on the way back, what do you call that?"

"Mother, I had every intention—"

"It's called failure, Doctor, intention or no intention. You have failed me." She started walking again. A brown stain was beginning to form around the hem of her white garment. "Now we've got a funeral to plan. And the Fall. What does this say to my people? That I can't protect them, even within these walls, that's what it says."

"Mother, listen," he ran up beside her and placed a hand lightly about her arm, "about the Fall—"

She jerked away and bared her teeth. "Do not put your hands on me, Doctor! You forget your place!"

Zach and Toby were there, snarling, waiting for the command to bite.

"My apologies... with everything going on... my apologies, I was out of line. I wanted to discuss the girl."

"What of her?"

"Well, it's my suspicion that she was pulled into all of this against her will. I spoke to her last night, for a few moments, and she communicated as much to me."

"She violated Scripture, did she not?"

"Yes, Mother, but—"

"But?"

"She didn't set out to violate Scripture. She was, at least partially, a victim of someone else's folly."

Mother swatted away his plea for mercy. "She's a heretic, no more, no less. The Scripture is plain. I will not have it polluted by your semantics. The fact that she violated the Scripture, at the behest of a boy, demonstrates her weak minded nature. That's a pollutant we do not want in our water. All the more reason for her to take the Fall." She was practically daring him to protest further.

He gave a shallow nod. "Yes, Mother." That was the end of it. He'd done everything in his power. He could sleep soundly on that bed of knowledge. But he wouldn't. The tightness would be there, and the tears would sting, because two young lives would be snuffed out beneath the weight of his blessing.

The rest of their journey was taken in silence. Mother continued to storm ahead, grunting, pulling her garment up above her ankles at each imperfection in her path. As they rounded the final corner a small crowd appeared, gathered loosely outside the lockup, held at bay by a contingent of guards from the Watch.

"Great, this is all I need," Mother muttered. "Zach and Toby, up in front, now."

They spun Blake like a top as they banged past him.

"Mother!"

"Bless you, Mother, it's so good to see you!"

"Pray for me, Mother!"

Zach and Toby worked as a shield. They joined together at their left and right shoulders and formed a V-shape. Mother hid in their shadow. "Children, pride of our Creator, please, let us through. I am here on His business."

Blake lagged behind and observed the spectacle as it revved through the usual gears of fanatical hysteria. Additional bodies, attracted by the roar of the crowd, began to stream in from other parts of the settlement.

"Is that Mother?"

"What's she doing here? Is there going to be a Fall?"

Within the growing crowd Blake saw the tear stained faces of Colton's father, Terrence, standing next to both of Kati's parents. His stomach lurched. His intestines coiled.

"Mother, my boy, please, I need to see him!" Terrence pushed through to the front of the crowd. Mother kept her head down as Zach and Toby ushered her into the lockup. "Mother, is my son okay, tell me that much, please?"

Blake broke into a jog as he approached the door, dropping his head, hoping to go unnoticed.

Two hands closed tightly around his wrist. "Doctor, you can't let my son take the Fall. You talk to Mother, she listens to you."

"I don't know what's happening or what's going to happen. But I assure you, Mother will be fair. She will only move in accordance with our Creator."

"That's crap and you know it!" The saliva hit Blake right between the eyes. "The men working the well saw you there yesterday, talking to Colton. They said Colton got really quiet after you left. Said he looked troubled. This was you, damn it! Fix it!"

Kati's Mother, Belinda, joined the fray. Blake didn't see her until her claws were plummeting towards his face. With Terrence latched on to his wrist, his options were limited. He turned his head away but she still caught the top of his ear. "Her blood is on you! On you!" Her husband was there, pulling her back as she kicked and scratched.

Zach appeared beside Blake like some guardian demon. "Let him go, Terrence. This ain't the place to quarrel."

"Zach, you tell Mother that my boy was fine till he talked to the Doc, you tell her that for me, please?"

"She's going to listen to the Creator, she will deal fair and just, like she always does. You'll know the outcome soon enough."

"He's the reason my boy is in there. He was fine till the Doc broke words with him."

Zach stepped in closer, his hand now on Terrence's arm. His voice was quieter, but much firmer than before. "Now's not the time, you understand me?"

"If something happens to my boy, I'm going to be breaking a hell of a lot more than words with you, Doc."

Zach dropped into an offensive position. His other hand was now on the butt of his pistol. "Terrence, I'm only gonna tell you once more."

Terrence relinquished his grip, but his eyes still held promises of retribution. "You sleep sound, Doc," he said, with a quivering chin, as he stepped back into the embrace of the crowd.

"Come on, Doc, get inside."

Blake felt like he was breathing through a straw. "He's going to kill me. You heard him. I was only following orders and he's going to kill me."

"Ah, now, I doubt Mother will let that happen."

"You doubt..."

"Just walk, will you."

"What's up with him?" Toby asked as Blake shuffled into the lockup.

"Scared, like always."

Mother was dismissing the guard as Blake walked in.

The interior of the lockup was made up of a table, a chair, and an open air wall-to-wall holding cell. Blake remembered when they'd crafted the cell. They'd sent teams to collect scraps from the ruins. Men went out for days at a time. Some of them never came back; lost to bandits and the elements. They used whatever metal and mortar they could find. The bars were a bit crooked and the lock often got stuck, but in the end, the cell did its job. And if it didn't, there were always the men with the guns.

Mother walked the length of the cell, sliding her fingers over the bars, a foul look about her. This was a demonstration of power. A way of letting the ants get a good long look at the sole of the shoe before it came down on top of them.

Zach was sitting back on the table, picking at his black nails with the tip of his blade. Toby was sitting down near the door with his head back and his mouth open, drifting in and out of sleep; it'd been a long night for all of them.

"Look at you two, all snuggled up together." Colton and Kati were pressed against the back wall. Their hands were cupped, one over the other. Kati's head was draped beneath Colton's swollen, purple chin. "Look at you, sitting there in your sin. You should be repulsed by each other. Repulsed by the dark, vile creatures that each of you has become. Repulsed that the person sitting next to you has betrayed their Creator. Yet, you sit, basking in it."

"Mother, we both wish to renounce our oaths. We wish to take The Covenant," Colton spoke assertively, through broken teeth, while Kati wept softly in his arms.

"Oh, you do? Well then, that's just splendid." Mother steepled her fingers and inclined her head towards Blake. "Isn't that splendid, Doctor?"

Blake nodded. Dizzy. His breathing shallow. "It's good to hear such noble intention."

"Bah, _noble intention_ , it would seem you have the good doctor fooled. Tell me, Colton, why have you and this heretic whore suddenly decided to take the Covenant?"

"Don't you call her that!" Colton didn't look tough. He didn't sound tough. He was just a broken kid, making broken promises.

Zach, usually a sucker for conflict, just laughed at the outburst and continued right on fiddling with his nails.

"She lost the right to be called by name, as did you. You're both heretics. Nothing more. Why would I let you take the Covenant? Why would I depart from Scripture by allowing you to atone for your sins?"

"Mother, because we love each other." Colton's tears fell into the tangled mass of Kati's hair.

"We do, Mother, we love each other, so much." Kati sniffled, wrapping her arms tighter around Colton's chest.

"And because we'd multiply, just like the Scripture commands. We'd do our Creator proud. We'd do you proud, Mother."

"Mother, perhaps—" Blake started.

"Shut up, Doctor." She sighed and pouted at the two captive lovers. "You both tell a good story. I can see that you're both quite upset by all this."

"Ma'am, it's the truth. Before you, before our Father, the Creator, I swear it."

She shook her head. "There's a problem though, Colton. You see, I don't believe you. I don't believe either of you."

"Ma'am—"

"You're not sorry. You're not speaking out of genuine conviction. You have no desire to bring yourselves in line with the will of the Father. No desire to multiply. You're simply scared. You were caught hatching your little scheme. You killed one of our own. And now, you're too scared to accept the consequences."

"No, Mother, please—"

"Still your lying tongue, boy. No more. I will hear no more of it!" She was breathless, clutching at her chest for a brief moment. "If I didn't possess the wisdom bestowed upon me by our Creator, I may very well fall beneath the poisoned words of your forked tongues. But I hear our Creator's voice. You'd take the Covenant and you'd fold yourselves back into our society. You'd plot and you'd scheme, perhaps dripping your poison into the ears of your fellow citizens, and when the moment was right, you'd strike."

"Mother... I... we—"

"You will take the Fall. You and your whore."

Mother rounded on Blake and pushed past him towards the door.

Something crashed hard against the bars of the cell. Blake spooked and almost rolled across Mother's back in a fit of terror.

It was Colton. His fingers were wrapped around the bars. His knuckles were white. "You bitch! You lying evil bitch!"

Mother was unfazed as she turned to face the young man cursing her name. "I didn't quite catch that. Would you mind repeating it?"

"You're just a bitch! Fuck you! Fuck the Creator!"

She nodded her head, as if considering what Colton had said. "Zach, would you please call the guard back in here?"

"Yes, Mother," Zach chuckled and rubbed his calloused hands together, as if he knew what she was up to.

"Mother, perhaps we should just go? He's obviously doing his best to ruffle you, to instigate."

"Doctor, do I look ruffled?"

"No, Mother."

"Now, I believe I instructed you to shut your mouth."

The door opened again and Zach returned with the guard; a plump man, legs shorter than his torso. "Yes, Mother? I am at your command."

Colton started backing away from the bars, sensing that the tide was shifting against him.

"You three," her finger danced expeditiously across Zach, Toby, and the guard, before landing on Colton, "cut out his tongue."

Zach flipped the knife in his palm.

"Me and you," Toby leaned in close to the guard, "we'll hold him down. Zach will do the cutting."

"Alright." The guard sounded slightly disappointed with his role, eyeing the knife with envy.

Blake jumped in front of Mother, his hands folded up against his chest, pleading with her. "The boy is upset. He's just acting out. He'll be taking the Fall. Let's just leave him—"

Mother struck his cheek with the back of her hand. "I'm done telling you to shut up. Leave, or your tongue will be next."

Blake could feel the wet stripes on his face where her nails had broken the skin. He clutched the wounded area, overwhelmed with shock. Mother had never struck him. He shuffled towards the door. Behind him he could hear her three dogs working the stubborn cell lock.

Kati screaming.

Colton pleading.

"You fight us and she gets it worse," Zach said as the hinges squealed on the cage door.

"If the whore gets in your way, cut off her tits," Mother spoke as if she were ordering her morning tea.

Blake opened the door to the lockup. The sunlight turned everything white. The crowd pressed in, trying to get a look inside.

"Back, damn it! I said back!" A guard hit a man in the chest with the broad side of his rifle and sent him spilling backwards into the arms of his family.

"Doctor, what's going on in there?" Belinda grabbed at his elbows and shoulders. He shook her off without a word, still clutching his face. "What's going to happen to her? Please, Doctor, tell me something?"

"Nothing to tell," Blake said, without meeting her eyes. "There's going to be a service tonight. I'm sure Mother's decision will be announced then."

Blake kept on moving. Away from the crowd. Behind the buildings. Soon everything faded. He stopped and leaned against the perimeter fence, hidden away in the shadows cast off by the overhead walkway. The heavy footfalls of the guards shook loose dust and dirt, showering the top of his head. He took his hand from his face and examined the thin sheet of red silk in the middle of his palm. Mother wasn't playing by the rules anymore. Scripture said nothing about torture; nothing about cutting out tongues and lopping off tits. All of her actions now seemed to be dictated by divine inspiration, _the will of the Creator_.

_How long before she's inspired to kill me? To kill my family?_

"Doctor!" His thoughts were interrupted by the ball shaped guard with the stubby legs. He rounded the corner from the alley, out of breath, his fleshy face slick with sweat, splotches of blood dotting the front of his shirt. "Doctor, Mother needs you back at the lockup! We can't stop the bleeding!"

"What do you mean?"

"The boy, we cut out his tongue. It won't stop bleeding."

Blake came off the wall and found himself charging towards the stocky little man with his fists raised. "Did you fools think it was going to sew itself up?"

The fat man's hand went to his weapon. "You hold your place, Doc. I'm not here for a fight."

The gun didn't scare Blake. He stepped right up to the little ogre and stared down into his melted face. He was so close he could smell the sweat and the copper. "Go to my house. Get my medical bag. You knock and you ask my wife for it. Don't you dare set foot in my home. You got me?"

The guard stepped back and relaxed his weapon. "I'll get the bag. You get over to that lockup. That boy can't die or Mother will have both our heads. She's in quite a state."

Blake shoved past him, moving towards the lockup. Not for Mother. Not for her Creator. But for Colton. The boy that now lay dying, drowning in his own blood, all because he dared to love a girl.

Colton had been right.

_Fuck Mother._

_Fuck the Creator._

# 17

Monte was hiking the road north with his remaining men at a rapid pace, hoping to catch up with the Outlander and his Union bitch.

"So, boss, you just want us to open up when we see this guy?"

"It'd probably be wise."

"Thought you said you wanted to talk to him."

"I do, so aim low."

They were winding through an s-curve, surrounded by crumbling walls and long, bent over strips of rebar, growing out of the ground like rusty claws.

"So, is this guy as good as you, boss?"

Monte shook his head. "No, he's better than me. He taught me everything I know."

Coming out of the final bend, Monte saw a group of men standing a few hundred yards down the road. They appeared as shadows against the intense sunlight.

"Hang on there, boys." Monte raised a fist and all of them took a knee.

"That them?"

"Nah, I don't think so, too many."

"Union?"

"Can't tell." Monte raised his pistol and moved forward, staying low. "I don't think they're Union... what would Union be doing out here?"

"That ain't stopped them before."

Monte didn't want a gun battle. He put his pistol away, stood, and raised his hands. "Hey! Friends! We're friends!"

"What the hell, boss?"

"Lower your guns and put your hands up!"

The figures up ahead took notice of the company and broke off from whatever they were doing. They stretched out across the path, shoulder to shoulder. Monte could see the outlines of their guns. One of them was shouting something and flinging his arms around. Monte couldn't catch a damn thing he was saying. The words were all carried off by the hot breeze.

"Boss, they're gonna end our shit."

"No they're not; they could've already ended our shit. We stay cool and they'll stay cool."

"Ah, man, I hope you're right. I don't want to end up like Eugene."

Monte chuckled. "I don't think you've got to worry about that. These guys look like they can actually shoot; you won't feel a thing."

The armed procession was moving forward now.

_Nah, definitely not Union._

The Union moved like they were multiple bodies attached to one brain. These guys were too spread out. Their movement was too sloppy and disorganized. And there was something familiar about the figure at the center of the pack. It was the head. That ring of hair sitting around that bald bastard of a head.

"Glaspell... Glaspell, is that you?" Monte's voice was starting to get hoarse from the shouting and the dry air. He needed a drink, but he wasn't about to venture for his skin, not until his suspicions were confirmed.

The man at the center of the line halted the procession and kept moving forward on his own. The crunching of his boots was now audible, along with the sound of the magazines lining his waist as they brushed up against one another. "Monte? Monte, you depraved fuck, is that you?"

Monte met him half way and they wrapped each other up in a clumsy embrace, tottering foot-to-foot. "Holy shit, you cock headed motherfucker. I didn't know my brother sent your guys out. What are you doing?"

"Killing Union, what else?"

"No shit, where?"

Glaspell pointed up the road. "Got a shitload of them up there. We got this tip yesterday from this caravan rider, paid off like you wouldn't believe." Glaspell gripped him excitedly by the elbows. "Your brother is going to be happy. You won't believe what these tyrannical fucks were carrying."

"What?"

"Oh, you've got to see for yourself, I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"Well, by all means, lead the way." Monte waved his men up as Glaspell steered him in the direction of his conquest.

"We got the jump on these boys. I don't even know if they got a shot off. The rider that tipped us off insisted we don't kill them. He just wanted us to rob them. They're Union though, what else are they good for? A couple got away, high tailed it back towards Genesis."

"Well then, we better hurry it up and get our asses off the road. I don't imagine they're gonna just forget about this."

Glaspell nodded. The sheen of sweat atop his bald head reflected the sun like a mirror. "Don't I know it, that's who we thought you were; Union, come to make things right. They'd be some cocky motherfuckers, only sending three guys against us."

Monte shrugged. "I dunno, if they shot like me perhaps they'd only need one."

"Ha, Monte, still the same sonofabitch. Still carrying that pistola, I see."

"It's gotten me this far."

"I'll take a rifle any day; keep my enemies at a distance. Blood doesn't wash out so easily."

"I can shoot a tick off the ass of a mule with this thing." Monte drew the gun from its holster, spun it once, and dropped it back into place.

"Can you now?"

"I can try; I might kill the mule."

Glaspell laughed and patted him on the chest. "So, what are you and your boys doing out here?"

"Same as you, sort of, hunting this guy and his Union bitch. Get this, turns out that the guy is a Saboteur."

"I thought you were the last one."

"So did I, but apparently not. The folks we talked to identified the tattoo and a bunch of other shit. I don't really got much doubt. Anyway, they killed four of our guys last night and we think they lit out in this direction."

"Well I ain't seen them, and the folks we killed are all Union, not a Saboteur in the bunch."

"Eh, that's alright, I want to handle this personally."

Monte recognized some of Glaspell's men, but he didn't remember their names. The roster was always changing as men came and went from the surrounding settlements. He shook their hands and thanked them for not shooting him.

Glaspell took him by the arm and led him through the small crowd. Monte could see the outline of the bodies sprawled out beneath the sun just ahead. There was a big square box—what looked like some sort of chest—sitting in the middle of their carcasses. "All those rumors we were hearing back east, about the Union making a push, it seems like it wasn't just your usual tall tale bullshit. I think there's something real going on here, brother."

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that funny feeling."

"It's about to get downright hysterical, just wait till you check out what's in the chest." Glaspell stopped on the outskirts of the field of death, letting Monte go ahead on his own.

Monte's men stayed back with Glaspell's. He felt like the guest of honor at a surprise birthday party. The blood of dead Union fucks, the frosting on his cake. He stepped carefully over and around the leaking corpses. There were at least two dozen men, maybe more. They outnumbered Glaspell, but a head start made all the difference when it came to warfare. The chest was quite common in appearance: weather beaten wood, a hard brass frame, rusted hinges. The locks had been shot off. He felt an unexplainable hesitance as he reached to open it, as if something were waiting inside to bite him; perhaps it was just the knowledge that he was treading on forbidden ground, the heart throbbing ecstasy that came with giving the Union a stiff middle finger. Monte wasn't the type of man that often found himself absent words or direction. But for a brief moment, what he saw in the chest took the breath out of him. "Holy shit Glaspell; you've really done it this time!"

"I know man, I know. Your brother is going to lose his mind."

"He'll probably promote you... this is their honey pot. Who told you about this?" Monte ran his fingers through what seemed to be a bottomless pit of coin.

"Like I said, it was just some caravan jockey. Said he heard it from a guy that heard it from another guy. The tip only cost us a few pieces of jingle-jangle."

"I'd say you made yourself a damn fine investment."

"What should we do with it?"

Monte stood and flicked a coin off the tip of his thumb. "Well, get it off the road before the next surge of Union scum comes pouring through here."

Glaspell nodded. "Yeah, we already thought of that, but where? Take it where? The target this puts on our ass is significant."

"Yeah, you're right about that." Monte turned, scrubbing at his chin. He saw dozens of battle hardened men waiting on him for a meaningful answer. "Well... here's what we'll do. You're gonna take the chest straight from here to the coast, my brother and his men will have no problem keeping it safe. I'll walk you to the border. From there the unknown settlements should keep you safe. I'll take a couple of your men back with me to help find this Union bitch; maybe we'll get some answers out of her."

"I like it, let's do it."

Two of Glaspell's men hoisted the chest up and moved into the middle of the group, concealed on every side by their armed comrades. Monte and Glaspell led the band east, taking them off the road and across the unmarked clutches of the inhospitable wastes, leaving the bodies of the Union soldiers to blister and rot beneath the sun.

# 18

Defense Minister Dan Adams walked into Hause's office, shoulders squared and chin up. Despite their longstanding and intimate friendship the setting always caused Dan to feel small—Hause behind the broad desk, the towering bookshelves on either side of him, flanked by the picturesque view of the sprawling wastes—Dan wasn't a man that was used to feeling small. He much preferred their dinner table scenery. Their jest fueled conversations over sweaty bottles of brown brew.

Hause stood, extending his hand. "Dan, my friend, if you've come seeking news regarding Lerah, I'm afraid there is none to be had."

"No," Dan said, managing a tight jawed smile, "this isn't about my daughter. I'm confident she can handle herself."

"Yes, of course. She has you for her father. And she is Union, the best of the best. The odds don't get much better in times like these. Did you come to try to talk me into calling back the coin and sending out the guns, again?"

"No, not exactly."

"Good, because that bridge has been crossed."

"I'm aware of that."

"Can I get you a drink?"

Dan shook his head. "I just came from Pepper's, thank you."

"Pepper's? I was just there last night. They've patched it up quite nicely, wouldn't you say?" Hause moved from behind the desk and prepared a drink.

"It's like nothing ever happened. Also, you have my compliments on Gerrad, the boy knows how to pour a drink; smooth as polished brass."

"I have to admit, it was his father that beseeched me; told me that the boy was being wasted down in mechanical. I'm glad to hear that he's better with whiskey than he was with a wrench."

"He's superb."

"So, Dan," Hause set his glass down on the desk, smoothed the front of his slacks, and retook his seat, "if you didn't come seeking information on Lerah, or to push for troops, what is it that brings you?"

"May I sit?"

"By all means," Hause said, motioning to a chair.

Dan sat softly and folded his hands in his lap. "I hate to slice into the middle of your day with the blade of bad news—"

"Come out with it, no need for the formalities, we're old friends."

"Yes, well, two of the unit's have run into major resistance."

"What sort of resistance?"

"Armed resistance, the rebels, the 5th barely escaped with half their men and the chest of coin was taken."

"Where did this occur?"

"Northwest of here; about a day's march."

Hause drooped forward in his chair, slapping his elbows hard atop the desk, shaking the whiskey in its glass. "Damn those Rebels! That was all the coin we'd delegated for the peace talks! They're going to force us into another war, whether we want it or not!"

"This does have the potential to send a rather poor message."

"What does this message say?" Hause fixed him with a rigid stare.

Dan wasn't moved by the stony transformation. He'd seen it all before. "It says that it's open season on the Union. It says that our men can be killed and our wealth stolen with impunity."

Hause slammed his fists down on the desk, his face turning a deep red. Raindrops of whiskey decorated papers and folders. "We offer them the hand of peace. We offer them riches. We offer them a chance to pull themselves out of squalor. This is the thanks we get?"

"It does seem to be a rather one sided sentiment."

Hause shook his head. "No, this will not alter the course. I will see this land united."

"So what's the action?"

"Any animal can be tamed. No matter how wild. They see the whip enough times and they can be brought to leash."

"So, we call back Lerah and the Outlander, we rally our men, and we crush what's left of the Rebels, finish what the war didn't."

Hause pushed his chair back and began pacing. "No, I will not see the Union dragged back into another campaign."

"You don't have the stomach for it?"

"I've got the stomach, old friend. But I fear our people do not. I would not risk turning the tide of public opinion against us. The last thing we need is a fight in here and a fight out there. Besides, every bullet we fire into a Rebel creates three more just like him. It's a disease."

Dan sighed, disappointed by Hause's stubbornness. "Just give me the command."

"Send out the 6th; make sure they're battle ready. Have Captain Perkins lead them. Have them sweep through the settlements. Have them ask questions... hard questions. I want them to root out the local rabble as quickly as possible. I want them to send a message, that's all, nothing prolonged, just in and out. I don't want this to turn into a big thing."

"Anything else?"

"No, let me know when you hear something."

He stood. "I will."

"Oh, Dan, one more thing."

He turned at the door. "Yes?"

"I want our coin back."

He nodded and managed another tight jawed smile.

Dan entered the dingy bar that resided on the first level of Tower 2. It was still pretty desolate. The usual patrons—the caravan riders—were still conducting their business on the other side of the lobby, procuring the coin they'd need in order to effectively drink the night away. There were a few of them scattered about, looking as beat up and broken down as the tables they were occupying, countenances as dingy as the glasses they were nursing.

The man he'd come to see was standing behind the bar picking at his bumpy nostrils with the tip of his thumb, one elbow propped up on the bar top. When he saw Dan coming down the stairs he straightened up and began to wring his hands nervously, a rag clutched between his palms. When Dan got to the bar he snatched the rag away from the little troll and snapped him in the center of the forehead with it. "What happened, Ichako?" his voice was a low boil.

Ichako tried to back away but Dan caught hold of his tunic and yanked him down across the bar. "I did as you asked! I did as you asked!"

"No killing, you thick headed little monster. Did I not make myself clear?"

"You did, very clear, sir, very clear. I sent word through the caravans, as you asked. I gave it to them, just like you gave it to me."

"Then why are my men dead, you sniveling little shitbag?"

"I don't know. Please, I just did as you asked."

"Who carried the message?"

"One of my usual runners, very dependable, never had a problem." Ichako wasn't struggling to break loose, he knew better, knew it'd just stoke the fire.

"Well, it seems that his record is now marred, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would, yes, won't be using him again."

An empty bottle rattled atop the bar to Dan's left. "Uh, I just wanted to get another brew?" He was a skinny caravan rider. Perpetual sweat rings decorated his tattered garb.

"Bar is closed for the moment," Dan said, before turning his attention back to the squirming little troll.

"Come on man, just crack the top on a brew and slide it over."

Dan snatched his pistol from its holster and pressed the muzzle against the man's throat. "We're having a rather intimate conversation. Please, take your seat."

"No problem man." The rider made a quick retreat to his table, empty handed.

Dan holstered his pistol. "How many Rebels have come in from the east?"

"I don't know, couple dozen, maybe."

"Did you make sure this shit won't lead back to me?"

"Yeah, of course, I kept your name out of it."

Dan released his collar and shoved him away with both hands, sending him tumbling against the shelf of spirits; Ichako managed to steady the wobbling shelf before any of the bottles could topple and shatter.

Dan rubbed his eyes wearily. "Give me a brew."

"Didn't think you cared for the Outland stuff. One brew, coming right up." A bottle appeared in Ichako's hands. He shed the top and passed it over. "It's on me."

Dan took a quick swig and ran the liquid between his cheeks before swallowing.

"How is it? Not so bad, right?"

Dan clutched the bottle around the neck and slammed Ichako across the top of the skull. It was a meaty impact and utterly satisfying. The glass shattered and the swill covered everything in the immediate area, including the front of Dan's shirt. The deformed little man was out cold before he hit the ground, a deep fissure now splitting the top of his head.

Dan turned to leave. As he passed the skinny caravan rider's table he tossed him a coin. "Next round is on me."

# 19

Night was falling fast. They still hadn't settled on a place to make camp. Dominic could sleep under a rock. With Lerah everything was either too exposed or too secluded, the ground was too hard or things just didn't feel right.

"We're gonna have to get off the road soon. If you don't pick a place I'm just going to drop my stuff and bed down under the next decent piece of shade."

"Yeah, you do that." Lerah was more interested in the crooked structures on either side of the road. Disemboweled office buildings hovered over them like black phantoms, their shattered windows, like a thousand mouths with jagged, translucent teeth, threatened to swallow them whole. "Hell's Hallway," Lerah spoke with awe.

"What?"

"Hell's Hallway, that's what this place is, right? Everything matches the books."

"That's what they're calling this place?" He shook his head and raised his canteen to his lips. The water had warmed considerably since his last drink. He'd managed to top off their supply at a small settlement a few miles back. The pump had been a rusty, unguarded piece of craftsmanship out on the edge of town. It'd squeaked like a trapped animal and the water had come out brown.

"It's how we remember; occurrences, dates, those involved. It's called education, not that you'd know anything about that." She crouched down in the darkness, picked up a scrap of stained cloth, and let it float in her grasp for a moment before releasing it into the wind.

"I don't need your books, sweetheart. I got my education first hand."

"You were here during the battle?" She'd gone from dismissive to curious.

"Yeah, I was here... there... whatever."

"What was it like?"

"Men killing. Men dying. What do you think it was like?"

"Oh, by all means, don't leave out any details."

"I am happy to climb up into one of those windows and shoot down on you while you scramble for cover. Just say the word."

She scooted some rusted shell casings around with the tip of her boot. "Doesn't look like people come through here much."

Dominic shook his head. "Nah, a lot of Outlanders think this place is haunted."

"Of course they do."

"For some of us, our superstitions are all we got. They go well with a cook-fire and a pot of rolling stew."

"Is it haunted? What do you think?"

"I try not to. Besides, I figure, at this point, I've seen far worse than a few ghosts."

"A lot of shotgun shells here. Not the weapon I'd have gone with." She was crouched down again, picking through the casings.

"Well, they weren't soldiers; they didn't really have a choice. We didn't have the extra rifles, so they brought what they could to defend themselves."

"They?" Lerah stood, an empty shotgun shell cupped across an index finger.

"Did your books leave that part out?" Dominic strolled past her and stood in the middle of the roadway, his arms spread out to his sides, his chin pointed towards the night sky. "What'd they tell you? That the Union fought off the Rebel hoard? Risking life and limb to secure your glorious future?"

"Save the performance. Tell me, what am I missing, supposedly?"

He dropped his arms with a heavy sigh. "People, Lerah, they were just people. The war was going full blast. Your precious Union was leveling any settlement they thought might be involved with Rebel activity, most of the time they were wrong. It was more about the spectacle for them than anything else; raping women, stringing up young boys—"

"Oh, bullshit, you're just—"

"I'm just what, Lerah? What's my stake in all this? I don't give two sloppy fucks whether you believe me. War is over. I'm not here to convert you. I'm here for the coin. You want to hear what happened from someone that was actually there? Or do you want the fairy tale?"

Lerah tossed the shell at his feet. "By all means, finish your story."

"The people wanted to go north. The fighting wasn't as intense up there. They thought they could hunker down and wait for the storm to pass. My unit was assigned to escort them. It was me and my team, probably a dozen of us. The rest were all civilians: farmers, shopkeepers, mothers, husbands, sons, daughters. I don't know how the Union found out. What I do know is that, when we came through here, your people were waiting for us. They were camped up in those buildings. All warm and cozy. Their rifles ready. As soon as we got to about where I'm standing, they let loose. They weren't picking targets. They were just putting bullets into everything that moved." Dominic could still see it: children clinging to the bodies of their fallen parents, weeping, heads coming apart, faces destroyed by the deadly kiss of high velocity shrapnel, corpses falling into the lifeless arms of loved ones, pools of blood meeting and mingling. "I lost half of my men that day. Lost all but a handful of the settlers. We eventually got the survivors north, away from the fighting, but it didn't really matter at that point. Most of them had lost everything: friends, family, possessions. I could see it in their eyes, most would have welcomed a bullet." Dominic started down a small incline towards the base of one of the buildings.

Lerah walked to the edge of the deteriorating blacktop. "I've... well, I've never heard any of that before. If it happened how you say it happened... that was wrong. Things happen in war... but... it doesn't make it right."

Dominic tossed something up to her. She recoiled as the projectile soared in from the darkness. She managed to clamp it between outstretched arms before it made contact with her chest.

"It happened."

A doll, that's what he'd hurled up from the ditch. A doll with a spotted pink dress and tight blonde pony tails, scorched on one side, missing a leg and an eyeball. There were two holes in the chest, through and through, the fabric rigid and black around the edges, tufts of stuffing blooming from the wounds. Silence filled the space between them as Lerah squinted down at the ruined toy. She turned it over and over in her hands. Stuck her fingers in the bullet holes and wiggled them around as they exited the opposite side. Lifted the pigtails and let them fall back into place. Finally, she hung it by one leg and let it drop to the ground without ceremony.

Dominic nodded. "I know a place we can make camp. Follow me."

She hiked down after him into the ditch. He led them down a narrow alley between two of the buildings. He turned left when they reached the rear of the structures. The wall on the first floor was missing, giving an unobstructed view of the ramshackle lobby. "During the assault some of my guys blew this wall open. They were going to try to flank the shooters. But there were Union boys waiting on that balcony." His finger prodded at the shadows, at a hint of brass railing suspended above them. "They got torn all to pieces, died right where you're standing." She shifted closer to him.

"You said you had a spot for us to make camp, where is it?"

"In here. Stay on my heels. It gets treacherous."

He led them over the pile of rubble and into the lobby.

He'd led her three floors up, to an old gunner's nest. The sand bags felt good beneath her head and feet. She watched Dominic as he roasted two potatoes atop a pathetic flame. "I thought you Outlanders had mastered fire?"

"When we've got the right material at our disposal, yes, we're quite competent."

"Improvise, soldier, didn't they teach you that?" She draped her head towards him with a wise ass little grin.

He watched her for a moment behind the orange glow of the flame, rubbing his teeth together. "You're right, give me your shirt."

She raised her middle finger. "In your dreams."

"I've already seen you in your panties; sleeping, all spread out. There's a lot more fabric than I'd imagined. I always pictured you in something a little more... you know... sheer."

"No, I don't know. I don't choose my unmentionables based on men's sexual appetites."

He laughed and turned the potatoes. "No man waiting back home for you, I take it?"

"Don't see how that's any of your business."

He burned his hand and cursed. "It's just a question that people ask people, it doesn't carry any offense."

She closed her eyes and made as if she were growing tired. "There's no one. It's just me and my dad."

"And the military?"

"Yes, the military." She'd never made time for the burden that came with a relationship. Her father was something thrust upon her by fate. He'd always kept a respectable distance. When it came to men, she kept things simple. If she wanted a man, she had a man; dinner, bed, and out before breakfast. The only cross she wanted to carry was her own. It was a steep enough hill without having to take on anyone else's bullshit. "So, how'd you get hooked up with the Rebels? They snatch your ass out of a tavern somewhere? Promise you beer money?"

"That would have been one hell of a recruitment campaign. Probably would have doubled their numbers." He claimed one of the potatoes from the fire and offered it to Lerah, alongside a chunk of bread and a slice of apple. "Not much of a cook, but it's edible. It's been a long time since I've seen fruit."

She accepted the portions and used one of the sandbags as a table. "We've got barrels of them in Genesis," she said, arranging the food neatly across the back of the burlap. "So, talk to me, how'd they get you?"

"Well," he dropped his potato into his lap, flapping his hands, trying to suck the heat from his fingers, "there's not a whole lot to it."

"Then it should make for a brief story." She nibbled unenthusiastically at her bread.

"Fair enough. You remember when I told you my ma was a bit of a cunt?"

"Sounded like she was more than a bit."

"I was being polite." He tore a piece of splotchy skin from his potato and tucked it between his lips. "I left when I was fifteen. Packed up my shit one night and got out, didn't even bother shutting the front door."

"Have you been back there since then?"

He shook his head. "Nah, she probably drank herself to death a long time ago. I'm sure the place was swallowed up by the war."

"Where was it?"

"Our home?"

"Yeah."

"Southeast of here; dry and hot, that's about all there was to it. No big loss."

She nodded as if she'd been there. "Sounds familiar."

He shook his head. "Nah, we couldn't even get root vegetables to take hold." As if spurred on by the memory of such misfortune, he grabbed up the potato from his lap and took a deep bite. "These things were a delicacy," he said through a mouthful of half chewed food.

"These are a Genesis staple. You get sick of them real quick, trust me."

"I always pictured you Genesis folk dining on lamb and chicken and picking your teeth clean with the bones."

"It's mostly pork." She finished the last of her bread and wiped the crumbs from her chin. "I'm not much of a meat eater, so I don't really care either way."

"Unless you've got coin, there's no such thing as meat out here. You've got to be willing to hunt and kill it yourself, or take what ain't yours."

Lerah wiped her hands clean on the sandbags. "So, the Rebels," she stretched herself back out on the floor, "they picked you up off the road?"

"Not quite. I did odd jobs for awhile, traveled from town to town, building walls, herding goats, stringing roofs. That's where I developed my affinity for sleeping on the ground; slept in a lot of barns, smelled a lot of shit."

"Fuck that." Lerah yawned and stretched, arching her lower back and cranking her neck towards the ceiling.

"You get used to it." He scooted his butt across the floor and propped himself up against an overturned desk. "I was helping this guy button up the last of his home, way out east of here, Rebel territory. The talk of war had been in the wind for awhile. But it hadn't touched us, you know. Then these guys came through the town I was working, hard men, they were looking to put together a special unit, needed strong, young recruits."

"The Saboteurs?"

"Yep. There was the promise of coin, shelter, and three meals a day. I was a hot blooded teenager and they were offering to put a gun in my hand. I couldn't pack my shit fast enough."

"So, you weren't fighting for shit?"

"Not to start with. I didn't know shit about the Union, about the struggle going on out here. After I jumped into the fray though, shit," he closed his eyes and tucked his chin down against the top of his chest, "I learned about ya'll real quick."

Lerah's thoughts drifted back to what Dominic had said on the road. She couldn't imagine it was true, even after what he'd shown her. The Union, slaughtering refugees, women, children, and shotgun saddled dirt farmers, it wasn't in the books. It wasn't in the honeyed words that had slid from Hause's tongue during her time in the classroom.

_No! Bullshit!_

The Union she knew, they were liberators. They broke chains. They lifted the weak from bondage. The Rebels, they were the villains. They were the ones trying to keep the settlements enslaved and impoverished. All the Union had ever tried to do was introduce a better way of life. They were the only ones working to get the country back on its feet, pointed in the right direction. She wouldn't allow Dominic's words to infect her mind.

She rolled on to her side, facing away from him. "I've heard enough bullshit for one night. I'm going to sleep."

"Bullshit?" he sounded off indignantly.

"You're an Outlander, a Rebel sympathizer. You'd say anything to turn me against my own people. I've had an earful tonight, I'm tired. Feel free to shut the fuck up."

"You're one thick bitch. If I were a sympathizer, I'd have let them have your ass back at the inn. I'd have told Hause you fucked up and got yourself killed. I'd have taken my coin and run," he grunted, working to shift into a comfortable position. "You didn't think about that, did you? No, of course you didn't. You're a fucking sheep, Lerah."

The thing was, she had thought about it. It scared the hell out of her. She pushed it down and closed her eyes. His words quickly faded away with the crackling of the waning cook-fire.

# 20

"How come Zach always gets to speak for you?" Toby looked pouty. Toby always looked pouty; it was just the way his face hung. But he was putting some effort behind it this time.

"We've all got our roles to play." Mother was shuffling around the room, collecting her notes and pulling at her hair.

"Chin up, brother. Maybe someone will step out of line tonight and you can crack a skull or two."

"No," Mother gripped the back of her chair, "there will be no bloodshed in that sanctuary. You're there to do the exact opposite. This is a delicate situation. I'll not have you picking the last petals from the flower." Mother walked around her desk like her bones were fused together at the joints. "Where is that page? I'm missing a page."

"I can help—"

"Get back! I'll tell you if I need you!"

Toby jumped back into place.

"Last thing I need is you crowding me." Her whole body vibrated as she sank to her knees and peered under the desk.

"Mother, I can see from here, I don't think there's anything—"

"Shut up! Shut your mouth!" She jerked her head back and forth violently, her hair splashed wildly across either side of her face.

"Okay," Zach held up his hands in surrender, "sorry."

The floor beneath the desk was empty. Of course it was empty. She knew that before she got down on her hands and knees. She didn't drop things. She wasn't careless, unlike these two simple creatures sucking the oxygen from the room.

Someone must have taken them.

Light fingers.

Someone looking to come between her and the Creator.

"Have either one of you seen anybody in this room?"

Zach and Toby exchanged clueless glances with one another.

"No, Mother, ain't seen no one," Toby spoke on their behalf.

Mother struggled to her feet. Her body creaked and cracked the entire way. She spoke, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, "Boy, if you touch me, I will cut you down myself."

Toby halted and stepped back once more.

The page she'd lost had been the most important piece of the Creator's message. It had contained everything regarding Colton and Kati: the severity of their sins, the Fall, words of solace for the community. They were perfect words, words that would bolster faith and ensure order. Now those words were gone. The words in her head. The words on the page. Vanished. "No! No! No!" She swept the contents of her desk to the floor. "I need that page!"

"Mother—"

"Bring me the chalice!"

She was propped against the desk, shaking.

Toby clumsily made his way to the window sill.

"Mother, what was on the page?" Zach asked as Toby retrieved the cup.

She shook her head. "The heart of the Father was on that page. The rest of the notes... they're just, town business."

"Do you recall any of it?"

"Slivers remain. But the meat of it... I've lost the meat of it."

Toby delivered the chalice, sliding it across the desk as if it might shatter beneath too much force.

"Maybe you can just give me the slivers and I can put it all together," Zach said, optimistically.

Mother took a long drink and sighed. "I have faith Zach, much faith. But that's asking a lot of me."

"Mother, between the two of us, we can get it down," Toby said, now standing back beside his brother.

Mother turned. "You're to have no part in this. You know your role. You keep order. But under no circumstance are you to speak from that pulpit. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Zach, I'm placing that responsibility on you. You alone speak from the pulpit. If anyone else gets up there and starts jabbering, you'll be held responsible."

"Yes, Mother."

"Service starts soon, they'll already be piling in."

Toby laughed. "Except for them Holloway's and them Chupra's; don't think they've ever been on time."

"I can give you a skeleton outline. Do you truly believe you can capture the essence of our Creator's message with such a meager script?"

Zach nodded. "Yes, Mother, I know I can."

Toby slapped him on the back, his tongue stuck out sideways between his lips.

Mother moved quickly behind her desk and found a blank piece of parchment. "Toby, pencil," she jerked her head towards the writing utensils she'd scattered across the floor. He rushed over and fell to his knees, gathering them together in his palms as if they were kindling.

_A simple animal, but an obedient one._

"Here you go."

She blocked the ledges on either side to keep the pencils from getting away again.

"How should I go about mentioning the tongue thing?" Zach asked.

"You shouldn't!" Mother slapped a hand against the paper, causing Toby to jump as he moved back across the room. "Don't say a word about it. No one is to know."

"His parents?"

"No one is to know. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Mother. But won't they know at the Fall, you know, final words and all?"

"There will be no final words."

"But tradition says—"

She threw a pencil across the room, striking him in the shoulder. "I say! There will be no final words. Their faces are to be bagged. That little harlot is to be gagged. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Yes, Mother."

Her sons grew quiet after that. Only the sounds of the pencil working rapidly against the paper filled the room.

Blake sat at the back of the sanctuary, tucked into a small pew beside his wife and daughter. Judith, as usual, had her toy car. She was running it up and down the lacquered surface of the pew, jumping from her seat to catch the wobbly contraption before it could get too far away. Blake and his family were one of the first to arrive for the service. He wanted to get tucked in early, as close to the door as possible, so that he could duck out quickly once the final words were spoken. He had a feeling that tonight was going to breed a bit more chaos than usual and he had no desire to be a party to it.

The guards were already in place, six in total, toting rifles. Two of them stood on either side of the double doors. There were two more at the center of the room, facing each other from opposite sides of the sanctuary. The last two stood flanking the pulpit, beneath the wall sized mural of a water-bucket pouring its contents into the center of a swollen fountain.

They were starting to trickle in now: the Lashua's, the Craig's, the Heard's, old Mrs. Napier, wearing her floral patterned hand sewn headdress. She extended a liver spotted hand to Riley, which she encapsulated gracefully in her own. "It's in times like these that we must remember just how blessed we are." She'd rolled out the same line after her husband passed. Her gaze moved from Riley and rested on Blake for an uncomfortable passage of time.

"Yes, blessed." Blake was having a hard time recalling the meaning of the word. He was forced to look to his daughter, rattling around in the center of the pew like a windup toy, for a reminder. "We are blessed."

"We are indeed," Riley agreed, reaching out to grab one of Judith's chubby thighs.

"Well, I better go grab my spot before someone runs off with it." Mrs. Napier turned and shuffled rapidly up the aisle. She was moving for the second pew on the right, her spot, being dutifully held for her by the outstretched palm of Mrs. Lashua.

"She's such a nice woman," Riley said as she watched her scuttle into her seat.

"Yeah, definitely, very nice," Blake's dismissive tone seemed to go unnoticed.

"It's a shame about her husband."

"He was up there in years, people die, it's just the cycle of things." Blake looked around as more families drifted in.

No sign of Colton or Kati's parents.

No sign of Toby and Zach.

"I know. I just don't like seeing anyone alone like that. People need family."

"She doesn't really have a lot of options, dear. Everyone is either married or abstinent."

"Yeah, I know."

"Besides, she's got the community. The Lashua's are quite fond of her," Blake said, gesturing towards the two women, now chatting away enthusiastically on the second row.

"I know, you're right. I just feel for her, like I said."

"Me too, dear." The loneliness of Mrs. Napier was the furthest thing from his mind.

The sanctuary door continued to swing open and closed as more families filed in and spaced themselves unevenly throughout the room. It wasn't long before a familiar sound filled Blake's ears.

A low throaty chuckle.

Cruel in its affect.

Unencumbered by social cues.

Toby passed by Blake without ceremony. He was too busy sauntering up the aisle and putting on a spectacle.

Zach was a different story. He stopped beside Blake's pew and stretched loudly, popping his vertebrae, and yawning into a closed fist. "Look here, the whole family, what you got there little one?"

Judith held up her car with an oblivious giggle, almost as if she were offering it as a sacrifice.

Riley wrapped a hand across her wrist and forced the toy back down against the surface of the pew.

"That's some lousy craftsmanship, Doc. Did you do that?"

"Found it like that."

"You know, I heard that a man that ain't handy, ain't no man at all?"

"That's a new one." Blake looked up into Zach's shadowy gaze. He didn't want to get into a war of words and wits. Not right now. Not with everything so unstable. He didn't want to risk endangering himself or his family more than he already had.

"What you got to say about that, Riley? He much of a man?"

Blake stood, blocking Zach's view of his wife and child. "What do you say we keep this conversation between us?"

Zach puffed his chest and crossed his arms. "Fine by me." Zach poked his head in closer, almost as if he were going in for a kiss. "The cuts on your face look a little sketchy. I expected you to be taking better care of them. Ain't that your profession?"

"They're just surface wounds. They'll heal fine on their own. What can I do for you?"

Zach bared his rotten teeth, all too happy to get to the meat of their visit. "About that little incident you saw at the lockup today."

"What about it?"

"Exactly," Zach said, thinking he'd been clever.

"Come again?" Blake was genuinely confused.

"Are you being intentionally thick with me, Doc? You're already skating on thin ice."

"Okay, I get it, calm down. I really don't know what you're getting at."

"You saw nothing. You heard nothing. What happened to that boy did not happen. Anyone goes off and asks you about it, you play dumb."

"Point taken."

Zach gave him a pat on the cheek. "Good." He turned towards the pulpit and threw his hands up in exasperation. Toby was pacing back and forth across the stage with his rifle at attention, putting on a show for the growing crowd. "Come on, you know what Mother said, get down."

Blake sank back into his seat and watched him go.

_You saw nothing. You heard nothing._

Mother viewed him as a threat, something that needed to be silenced. He was thankful for the conversation. It beat getting snatched out of his house in the middle of the night with a gag in his mouth. Still, he felt uneasy. Mother was unpredictable; she could just as easily decide that a simple conversation wasn't enough.

Blake wasn't given much time to dwell on it.

"Oh, you got a lot of nerve." It was Colton's father, Terrence. Blake turned sideways in his seat, hoping to avoid any rogue blows to the back of the head. His wife, Sheila, was in tow, quietly crying into his armpit. "Where's my boy, huh? Where's my boy? What'd they do to him?"

Kati's parents, Robert and Belinda, were there as well. "I want my Kati!" Belinda was like a wildcat, she leapt towards Blake, sagging across her husband's forearm as he struggled to hold her back.

"We heard the screams. What happened in the lockup?" Terrence asked.

Riley stood. "My husband did nothing. He is not responsible for any punishment your children may have endured. Their own actions put them there. It is Mother and Scripture that—"

Terrence raised a stiff finger and wagged it inches from Riley's face. "Shut your mouth, whore!"

Blake jumped up and wrapped his hands around Terrence's throat. He pushed him backwards across the aisle and flipped him over the arm of an empty pew. "If you ever talk to my wife like that again, I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" Blake was throttling the man. He watched as his face turned a deep red. His tongue began to swell between his lips. His arms flailed aimlessly.

"Let him go! You're killing him!" Kati's mother was there, fruitlessly pulling at Blake's arms.

Terrence's face went from red to purple. His gasping turned to gagging, and then to silence. His pulse slowed beneath Blake's grasp.

Something hit Blake hard, lifting him from his feet and sliding him backwards down the aisle. The top of his head came to rest by the double doors.

"There will be no bloodshed in the house of our Creator. Do I need to go fetch Mother?" Zach had planted Blake with a swift shoulder charge. "The Doc ain't got nothing to do with any of this. If you got any issues, then you can take them up with me, right here. I'll be sure to take them to Mother." Every head in the sanctuary was turned towards the scene, every voice was silent. "So, nothing? Alright then, good, you folks take your seats. I don't want to see you hassling Doc or his family again." Zach shook his head and gave Blake an undefined little wink before heading back towards the stage.

Riley helped Blake to his feet and ushered him back to his seat.

He gripped her knee as he sat down. "I'm sorry, I overreacted."

"He was out of line."

"Yeah, but so was I."

"You're entitled to a screw up every now and then."

_If you only knew._

"Oh my, look who it is!" The shrill voice of Charlotte Rowson stung Blake's ears. She appeared hand-in-hand with her husband Gregory.

Blake and Riley stood to greet them with handshakes and hugs.

"So, how're we feeling?" Riley asked, bowing her head towards Charlotte's stomach.

Gregory nodded enthusiastically. "We're feeling pretty confident. She's running three weeks late."

Blake smiled. "That's wonderful news."

"We truly feel His hand on us right now." Charlotte raised her eyes towards the ceiling.

"You're simply glowing Charlotte, I feel His hand on you too. Isn't she glowing?"

Blake was looking towards the pulpit, watching Zach fan through a loose stack of papers. "Yeah, glowing, I think there is some great news on the horizon," he said, snapping back into the conversation.

"The Creator was cutting it close with us, had me sweating there for a moment," Gregory laughed.

"You're being dramatic; you still had, what, seven or eight months?" Riley asked.

"Six months and twenty-six days." Blake knew every last grain of sand in the hour glass. Mother insisted upon it. "Still, hardly the thinnest margin I've seen."

"What's the closest you've seen someone cut it?" Gregory asked.

Blake shrugged. "Two months and eleven days. I've seen couples get pretty close to the wire."

"It's all in His perfect timing." Riley reached out and brushed Charlotte's arm with the tips of her fingers.

Blake felt sweat break out across the back of his neck. He did his best to sink comfortably into their candy colored cloud of jubilation. "So, when would you like to come by? I need to check you and get a Declaration of Multiplication over to Mother?"

Gregory and Charlotte looked to one another, silently debating the issue with pursed lips and raised brows.

"Tomorrow?" Charlotte asked, flaring her eyes with excitement.

"Tomorrow it is. Around noon?"

"That works perfect for us. Thank you, Doc." Gregory shook his hand and then stole his wife away to search for a pew.

"Such good news," Riley said as they retook their seats. "It's always nice to hear good news on days like today."

"Yeah, good news is always nice."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, hon, I'm fine. Just a little tired." He patted her hand.

Toby had taken up a position at the front of the stage, holding his rifle and doing his menacing jailer routine, jumping the barrel up and down in the palm of his hand.

Zach cleared his throat loudly, effectively silencing the crowd. "I think we got enough folks present to get this thing going. We'll have our usual stragglers, but I ain't gonna keep you folks on account of them." Pandering laughter followed the remark. Zach was looking down at his notes with squint-eyed intensity. "As usual, Mother sends her greetings and her blessings. She wants you to know that she keeps all of you on her lips daily as she converses with our Creator." He formed each letter like a child, terrified of dropping a syllable and demonstrating his incompetence before a gathering of his peers.

"We pray for her as well!"

"May his hand be ever on her!"

"I'll bring your kind words to her. I'm sure she'll be glad to hear them. We don't have much on the agenda tonight. A little bit of town business and then we'll get to the meat of tonight's service. Sound good?"

"Take your time, Zach."

"Fine by me."

__ Blake folded his arms across his chest and slumped down in his seat. Riley curved an arm through the crook of his elbow and laid her face on his shoulder.

Zach covered the usual stuff: the progress being made on the new wells, construction on the wall to replace some rotting wood, an upcoming supply excursion in need of volunteers. "And that's it as far as town business goes." He shifted a few pages of notes, a stray sheet fluttering from his grasp and landing on the stage at his feet. "I know word spreads fast around here. I know all of ya'll are aware of the unfortunate incident that took place last night. We lost a good man. He had no immediate kin, seeing as how he was abstinent, but that don't mean he was without family. We were his family. And we all feel his loss." Zach paused, studying his notes. "He was taken from us senselessly, at the hands of Colton Otterman and Kati Zulma. Both of them had also taken the Oath of Abstinence. Last night, they set out to break that oath, to break the bonds of Scripture. When they were caught in their defiance, they acted out violently, and killed one of our own."

Terrence jumped to his feet. "Now you hang on one damn second! There's more to it. My boy felt threatened. The Doc had been asking him all these questions—"

"Sit down, Mr. Otterman," Zach spoke firmly.

The guards all moved forward at the same time, waiting for the order to jump.

"I'm gonna get a word in here, now I want—"

"Sit down, now!" Toby raised his rifle.

The crowd quickly turned on Terrence. They waved their fists and shouted him down, until he sheepishly fell back into his seat and took his sobbing wife in his arms once more.

"Everyone calm down. Just, calm down." Zach waved his hands across the congregation, as if casting a spell. "He's a father. A father that is grieving for his son. What happened is not his fault; his boy is a man and is in charge of his own actions. Many of ya'll in here have children. I'm sure ya'll can relate to his pain. It's got to be hard, losing a kid. So don't go being rough on him. If anything, you comfort these families. They're gonna need it." The mood in the room seemed to bend at Zach's command. "Now, ya'll know we're a people that live under the laws of Scripture. And Scripture is pretty specific about the penalty for heresy."

"Spare my Kati, please?" Belinda was on her knees, her hands folded on the back of the pew in front of her.

"I take no pleasure in pronouncing this stuff, but I'm gonna require order. Guards, if ya'll will remain on standby for me."

Guns came up.

"Just read the damned words! We all know where this is going." Terrence shouted.

"In accordance with Scripture and the will of our Creator, I hereby sentence Colton Otterman and Kati Zulma to take the Fall. The Fall will take place two days from now, come sunrise."

The hysterics of the two mothers reached a fever pitch, a momentary tide of emotion that swallowed the room.

Terrence was on his feet again. "May I speak?"

Zach nodded. "Make it brief."

"When will we be allowed to see our children? We would like to visit with them one last time. It's customary that family be allowed a visit before sentencing is carried out."

"You won't."

"What?" Terrence looked as if he'd just taken an unexpected blast of air to the face.

"You will not be visiting with them. Mother has suspended visitation for security reasons. There will be no—"

"She cannot do that!" Belinda was stamping at the floor and whipping her head back and forth, spraying tears like a wet dog shaking dry after a bath.

"Matter of fact, she can do that. Visitation ain't Scripture. This is a sensitive situation."

"It's a smoke screen! A bunch of bullshit! What'd you do to my boy in the lockup? Huh? We all heard him screaming." Terrence searched the crowd for allies.

"Another outburst from you and—"

"What? Are you gonna call Mommy? She let you be the big man tonight, can't you handle it yourself?" Terrence stepped into the aisle, his thumbs hooked in his waistband.

Toby started towards him with giddy anticipation, eager to break bones and render bruises.

Zach hopped down beside his brother and pushed him back towards the stage. "I'll take care of this." Zach began rolling up his sleeves as he approached Terrence. "You disrespect our Creator's house? You disrespect me? And you disrespect Mother?"

"Boy, I knew you when you were still in diapers, you dare to—"

Zach flattened his nose with a quick right handed jab. He followed it up with an uppercut that planted Terrence on his back.

"Stop it! Stop! Don't hurt him!" Sheila was fighting her way across the pew on all fours.

Robert hooked her around the thighs and pulled her back. "You don't want to get in the middle of that. Stay back, he'll be okay. Your husband is a strong man."

"Listen to the man; he'll keep you from a world of hurt." Zach circled Terrence, searching for the best opening. He was curled in a ball, protecting his vital organs. Zach kicked him in the spine with the toe of his boot and opened him up like a flower. Terrence groaned and rolled over, arching his back, and pressing his chest towards the ceiling. "This man openly mocked Scripture, did he not?" Zach looked out across the congregation. They sat up on their haunches, trying to get a better view of the steel toed flogging. "He insulted our Mother... your Mother." He kicked Terrence in the side, curling him back up with a wet little whimper.

"Don't you think he's had enough?" Blake stood up and stepped into the aisle. He heard the guard approach him from behind and felt the muzzle dig into his back. "I don't want any trouble."

"Well you're about to get some if you don't back down. This ain't your concern."

"This is how we do things? We beat people in the middle of the Creator's house?" Blake looked around and saw the same questions, the same doubts, lining the faces of those in the pews.

Apparently Zach picked up on it too. "I want ya'll to remain calm and just think for a second. We can't have folks speaking like that about Mother, can we? She ain't here to deal with it, so that's on us, am I right?"

The doors to the sanctuary blew open. Blake didn't need to turn to know who it was. The shock on Zach's face said it all.

"You may take your seat now, Doctor." Mother said.

Blake wasted no time following her instructions.

She glided up the aisle.

Zach backed quickly towards the pulpit, almost tripping over his feet in the process.

"Mother—" someone in the crowd started.

She held up a closed fist and silence immediately followed. She stood over Terrence. He writhed on the ground at her feet. She went down on one knee and placed a gentle hand against the side of his face, undeterred by the blood glistening beneath her touch. "Come now, let's get you looked after."

Still fighting for breath, Terrence wrapped an arm around her shoulders and slowly came upright.

"Take him and go. You have experienced enough for one night."

Sheila took him from Mother and they began moving for the doors, flanked closely by Robert and Belinda.

Mother turned her attention back to Zach. "You have disgraced this house."

"Mother, you weren't—"

"Guards, take him." They moved in quickly from the left and right, two husky men. Zach froze, his knees slightly cocked. For a moment it appeared as if he might try to spring an escape. Toby retreated onto the stage, away from the potential blast zone.

"No, Mother, please, you have to listen to me." He plunged to his knees and began to sob.

Blake had to fight laughter. The sight of Zach weeping scratched some dark itch he didn't even know existed.

The guards hefted Zach to his feet. He didn't resist as they bound his hands at his back and gave him a shove towards the doors. "Mother, listen to me—"

Mother slapped him hard across the face.

Zach began blubbering as he was ushered from the room, his head down, a string of snot hanging from his nose.

Mother took her place behind the pulpit, shooing Toby from the stage. "I, first, want to apologize for the behavior of my son. Tonight is a tough night for all of us. We've already lost one of our own and we'll be losing two more in the coming days." Her eyes blinked rapidly, the bright red lids twitched, the left and then the right. "The Fall is a blessed event, a commandment, and a gift. It's also a trial. It's hard on all of us. It is especially hard on the families that are losing someone. Mr. Otterman's display of grief was, in that regard, justifiable. What was not justifiable," her voice rose in volume and intensity, "were the actions of my son. I believe that, given the circumstances, Mr. Otterman had every right to grieve as he felt necessary. I am a strong woman. I am the mouthpiece of our Creator. Harsh words do not hurt my feelings."

_Tell that to Colton's tongue._

"I don't want any of you to be afraid to express yourselves. This is not a dictatorship. We all live under the laws set by our Creator. His judgment comes just as swiftly for us as it does for any of you. Zach will be punished for the behavior he exhibited here tonight. Let us move forward from this, together and stronger than ever."

Cheers of blind adoration permeated the room.

Blake joined them.

He saw Mother's eyes lingering on him, just long enough to ensure that he was playing his role.

A hand shot up from the crowd. "Mother, a question, if I may?"

"Yes, stand so that we may see you."

The man stood. He hunched his shoulders and kept his gaze pointed at the ground. "Well, I just wanted to know, is it true what your boy said about visitation being suspended? Colton wasn't my blood, but he was like a brother to me. We worked the wells together for some time. I'd like to see him before he takes the Fall."

Mother nodded. "Unfortunately, what my son said is true. Due to the sensitive nature of this incident, we're not going to allow for visitors. It's already an extremely emotional event, and after conversing with our Father about it, I feel that suspending visitation is the best decision. I hope you understand."

"I do, Mother. Thank you for being straight with me."

"Are there any other questions or concerns?"

None.

Just cheers.

The sheep bleating for their shepherd.

"Then please feel free to be dismissed. I expect to see all of you tomorrow at sunset for the burial of our fallen brother, he was an important piece of this community, let's be sure to show him the respect he deserves."

Blake grabbed Riley and Judith and made for the doors as fast as his feet would carry him.

# 21

Dominic stood shirtless at the edge of the third floor of the bombed out office building, looking out over _Hell's Hallway_. Nothing but air stood between him and the ground below.

_Hell's Hallway, what a name._

To him it was all just war. Young men died for faceless causes. Nothing was ever lost or gained. The bullets flew, and the blood poured, until one side tapped out.

The musky smell of charred wood from the burned out cook fire still hung in the air. As he stood there, rivets of sweat poured down his torso and back, he looked like he'd just stepped from a bath half dressed. The ground was still cloaked in pre-dawn shadow. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. Lerah still slumbered away peacefully. She stirred every now and then, rolling from her back to her side. Her knees were curled up above her waistline and her shirt was ruffled up around her taut belly. Her guns were both fully loaded and within arm's reach, though they wouldn't do her any good. The girl could sleep through an explosion. Dominic had tripped and scuttled to where he now stood and her eyelids hadn't fluttered. It was nice to have someone to share the road with for a change; a companion.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Lerah had pushed herself up onto her elbows, her face still slack with sleep.

"No point in robbing someone else of rest just because I can't grasp it for myself. We don't have to set out yet. You've still got time."

"I'm awake now." She sat up and curled her knees back behind her butt. "What's for breakfast?"

"There's still some potato left from last night if you can get it down cold."

"The potato will be fine. I hope Reeman at least serves up a decent meal."

"I just hope I can get a decent smoke, I'm running low." He took one of his last three cigarettes between his lips and set a match to it.

"Think you could spare one?" she asked, pulling a greasy bit of skin from the spud.

"Really?" He turned from the ledge and leaned back against a broken wall. "I didn't know the lady smoked."

"I've got to keep you on your toes."

He shook a cigarette free from the pack and extended it to her. She came up to her knees and took it in her lips, wobbling a bit as he lit it.

She sat back down, leaning against the sandbags. "How's the wound?" she asked, her eyes settling on his torso.

"Feels okay, not hurting me too bad. I've had worse."

"I can see that," she said, referencing the innumerable scars littering his body. "Come here and let me take a look at it." She dropped the potato and brushed her hands off on the front of her shirt. "Stand still." She started fiddling with the edges of the bandage as he stood over her. She was holding the cigarette in one corner of her mouth, puffing away like a pro. "You're not bleeding through and it doesn't smell funny. So far, you're in the clear."

"So I'm not dying?"

"Not yet anyway."

He picked his shirt off the ground and slipped it over his head. "I'll take what I can get."

"Still need to keep an eye on it, at least for the next few days."

He secured his weapons, picked up his jacket, and began to slap the dirt away. "You about ready?"

"Lead the way."

Light was creeping up the narrow passage known as _Death's Hallway_. What had been secluded by night was now framed by day: walls pockmarked by bullets, rust covered shrapnel peaking up from the dust, the possessions of the dead bleeding from sand crusted suitcases.

"Daylight really doesn't do this place any favors." Lerah did a poor job of hiding the shock in her voice.

"It's as ugly as it gets."

She walked behind him, kicking items of clothing and jewelry aside with the tips of her boots. "About what I said last night, you know, about you being full of shit and the stuff with the Rebels? The war is over and you've proven yourself a friend out here. I was just talking and not thinking."

"You've got nothing to apologize for. The Union is your family. Folks tend to get pretty defensive about their family. It's only normal."

"Yeah, you want to believe family is perfect, know what I mean?"

"I never got the pleasure of such an illusion, but I do know what you mean." Dominic looked down and saw something white sticking up out of the dirt, the edges rippling in the wind. He knelt and started clearing a space around it.

"What is it?"

He took up the cloth. There was a small hole and a rust colored stain. He recognized the fabric. Recognized the spot he was kneeling in. Recognized the snipers nest thirty meters back over his right shoulder in the second floor window.

"That a bullet hole?"

Dominic closed his fingers around the item before Lerah could touch it. "She was probably twelve, give or take a year. Both of her parents had gone down in the first barrage; just shredded. She'd curled herself up behind the body of this dead mule, the only thing that had saved her. Poor goddamn mule, sprang a hundred leaks before I ever happened by." Dominic's voice seized up. A cloud cover moved across the surface of his eyes. He blinked hard and forged ahead. "There were bodies everywhere. There was blood. Shit was burning. I was shot up. There was smoke all in my eyes. Then there was this calm in the storm. They were all reloading, or they'd killed their quota for the day, I didn't know. So I'm running my ass out of there and I see this little girl and I grab her up. I'm trying to run out of there with her as fast as I can. I've got her in one arm, my pistol is in the other hand, and then I hear a shot. It's so far off; at first I think nothing of it. A few seconds later I feel her go slack. Her cheek falls against my shoulder, like she's taking a nap. That's when I see the hole in her back, the missing flesh, the missing fabric." He let the cloth pinwheel from his grasp. It hit the ground and slowly blew away on the back of the breeze.

"People make mistakes in war. They mess up." She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. "I'm sure your crew had their share, right? I'm sure they messed up."

Dominic nodded. "I'm sure they did."

"We can't change the past."

"No we can't."

"We can only make sure the future is better."

Dominic nodded. "I agree."

She stood. "And that's what we're doing out here. So let's get it done."

_If you say so._ "Ready when you are."

# 22

Zach sat against the back wall of the cell. His hands were shackled above his head. Morning had arrived and he hadn't slept. He kept waiting for the door to burst open, for Mother to appear with her blade poised for his tongue.

They'd moved Colton and Kati in the middle of the night. Probably had them locked up in the gatehouse, further away from the main square, more eyes and guns on them. Colton's blood still stained the floor. There'd been no attempt to clean it up. A few bits of straw had been brushed across the surface, some dirt was kicked around, but that was as far as the efforts had gone.

How could he have been so stupid? He knew better than to commit violence in the house of the Creator. He'd been there representing Mother; her lips were his lips, her words his words, her hands his hands. He'd be lucky to take the Fall. She was just as likely to leave him to rot. He'd know soon enough.

Keys jangled in the lock and the door squawked open. "Hey, Mother is here." It sounded more like a warning than an announcement.

She floated in on beams of sunlight. She took slow, short, deliberate steps around the room. She eyed the walls and the ceiling. She passed by the lone table and ran a finger across the dusty surface, flicking the filth to the floor. She brought her hand towards her white robe. Zach thought she was reaching for the blade she kept sheathed against her torso. He started to panic and struggle against the chains. Foolishness and cowardice overtook him when he realized she was simply brushing her hands clean.

"Are you going to say something? Or should I just hand you over to the Creator and leave the guards to carry out His will?" She stared down at him through the bars, her tongue cocked behind her front teeth.

"Mother, that fella was saying—"

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Start again!" She gripped the bars of the cage and shook, as if she intended to pull it down around him.

"He tried... I had no intention—"

"Make another excuse! One more! See what happens!"

"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm so sorry."

She pushed herself off the bars. "For?"

He dropped his knee warily. "I don't follow?"

"You're just a dumb animal, aren't you? Not all that different from your brother. I'd placed you as the smart one. But perhaps I made a mistake."

He just hung his head; he didn't know what else to do. Arguing would make it worse.

"What are you sorry for, stupid boy?"

He couldn't keep his chin from trembling, couldn't keep the moisture from his eyes. Each display of emotional defeat only seemed to empower her. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you. For bringing shame to our Creator. For bringing shame to His house. For bringing shame on the people of this settlement. I'm sorry, Mother. Please... forgive me?"

"I guess that's all up to our Father. We will wait for him to decide. But as for right now, you will stand before the people of this settlement at tonight's ceremony and apologize publically, on bended knee."

"Yes of course, Mother, of course."

"Also, effective immediately, you're to take up with the Watch. You will take nights on the wall. You are no longer my personal guard."

His heart missed a beat. "Mother, for how long?"

She shrugged. "Until our Father sees fit."

He strained against the chains as she turned to walk away. "Mother, do you forgive me? Please, forgive me? Let me out of here."

She responded with an icy laugh, her back to him. "Why would I do that?"

He didn't expect the question and choked as he tried to find the answer.

"Well?"

He sniffled pathetically. He hated himself for it. "Because... I'm your son."

"Are you?" And then she was gone, riding out on beams of sunlight, the door slamming decisively behind her.

He sniffled pathetically. He hated her for it.

# 23

The rain rolled in quick on the backs of furious, black clouds. It was heralded by a ceaseless, dust choked wind that slapped the sweat from their faces with fine grains of sand. The lukewarm drops of water fell, heavy and fat and loud. They slapped against the parched clay in a loud discordant drum beat and turned their conversation into a mess of broken syllables and hand gestures. Rain didn't fall often in the wastes, but when it did, it fell fast and hard. The clouds would dump their payload and flee before anyone could really enjoy a reprieve from the hellacious heat.

Lerah yelled something.

Dominic only caught fragments.

"... shit... not waterproof." She clomped ahead, moving swiftly. She lifted her feet dramatically with each step, so high that her knees rose above her navel. With each heavy touchdown she sent sheets of water soaring in every direction. The bottoms of her pants were soaked. "This... over here." The weather was furious. The air around them had turned white. Lerah was now a mere outline. She turned, raised her hands, and waved for Dominic to move faster.

The ground sucked at his feet. Torrents of water swelled from the earth and wrapped around his ankles. When he caught up with her she was unloading her weapons and pack beneath an angled piece of metal sticking up from the ground. "Looks like an old car trunk!" Dominic shouted above the downpour. He gripped the rust covered shelter and shook it back and forth. "Seems sturdy."

"Don't do that. We don't need this thing falling down. Our shit isn't water proof."

"No shit Lerah, I am just making sure it's gonna hold up."

"It's holding up fine without you jerking it around."

He began unloading his pack. "It usually passes pretty quick. We shouldn't be here long." He hunkered down beneath the shelter and wiped the water from his face. The sound of the downpour against the metal was all consuming, like an endless flock of crows breaking their necks against a window pane.

"They didn't outfit us for this." She looked at him. There were beads of water dangling from her hair like silver decorations on a tree. The moisture ran in small broken streams down her cheeks and over her jaw, they collected against her neck and disappeared down the top of her shirt.

Dominic caught himself following the castoff rain flow and quickly averted his eyes. He cleared his throat nervously and nodded. "Yeah, these... uh, guns, they definitely aren't built for wet conditions."

"How so?"

Did she move in closer? He could have sworn he felt her hip brush up against his. Being that close to her, able to smell her flesh, to feel her breath on his neck, it sent him off his axis. It turned him into a mushy headed fool. "At worst... well, we get a pressure build up and the damn things explode. At best we get misfires when we need them to work the most. Guess you can switch those two scenarios out depending on your preference."

She laughed. "I think I'd take getting shot over getting my hands blown off. If your hands are gone... they're gone. If I'm shot, maybe I'll survive."

"Sounds reasonable." The metal roof was inches from his scalp. He looked up, the tip of his nose brushing the cold surface.

"I know I've been difficult out here."

"It's fine. First time in the Wastes, living day and night with an Outlander you barely know, I'd be a little edgy too."

"It's not as bad as I thought it'd be. Company is better than expected." She laughed, nudging him in the side with her elbow.

"You haven't put a knife in my back yet, I count that as progress."

"You've got some low expectations where women are concerned."

"Only Union women."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Okay, it's just you."

"Asshole!" She punched him in the arm.

Thin rivers of rainwater connected and disconnected at their feet, cutting shallow, muddy ditches in the earth.

She was close. He had an overwhelming urge to touch her. Damn it, he'd always been bad with women. Not knowing what to do or say. It was always easiest when there was coin involved. There was no guessing. He knew where he stood.

"I had my doubts about us being able to pull this off," she said, wringing some of the water from her hair.

"The mission?"

"That too, but I was talking about this act we're supposed to put on, man and wife."

"I'm that bad, really?"

"Oh, stop it. You're not bad at all... for an Outlander."

"Not the highest compliment I've ever been paid, but I'll take what I can get."

She wiped the remaining water from her face using one of her sleeves. "I was just trying to say that you've really shown up for me out here. The Lord Marshal was right about you."

"And you were wrong? It's okay, you can say it."

"I can say it, but I'm not going to."

"It's okay, I accept your apology."

"I made no such apology, my dear, fake husband. However, there's more to you than meets the eye, and it's surprisingly pleasant. That's all I'm saying, you'll get no more praise from me."

"That was more than enough." He set a hand on her thigh and set his gaze upon her face. He had this vision of her turning her head and meeting his eyes before attacking his lips hungrily with her own.

She froze. Her eyes fell to his hand. Her lips parted, in horror rather than ecstasy, as if a bug had just jumped on her and she didn't know whether to swat it away or play dead.

"Oh, shit, I'm sor—" he jerked away from her so quickly that he came up out of his seat and banged his head.

The rain was beginning to die down; shafts of sunbeam had started to penetrate the blackened sky. "You know, I uh, we're good, I think. It's died down enough." Lerah grabbed her pack and moved back out into the open as fast as her feet would carry her.

Dominic had a sour sensation in the pit of his stomach, one he'd have gladly traded for a bullet or beating.

"So we should... uh... we should get going," Lerah said, standing in the mud with her back to him.

"Yeah, we should." Dominic collected his things and moved to open up the distance between them.

# 24

Charlotte was lying on her back in Blake's living room with her legs spread. Her husband Gregory knelt by her head. He gripped her sweaty hands and looked on anxiously. Blake sat sideways at her feet, his face between her thighs. He supported his weight on one hand while the other moved inside her.

"Let me know if it's too much."

She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"Okay, I think I have some good news." Blake pressed one more time, just to make sure. Charlotte flinched and squeezed Gregory's hands tighter. "Yeah, I have good news. You've softened considerably. The mucus is thick. I think it's safe to say, you're pregnant."

Charlotte shrieked, wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. "Oh, thank the Creator, I knew it. You're going to be such a good father." She kissed her husband, tears streaming from both of their eyes.

"Thank you, Doc," Gregory said, extending his hand.

Blake stood. "Here, let me wash up and then I'll give you that handshake."

"Oh, of course," he laughed, cradling Charlotte's head in his lap.

There was a loud knock at the door. Blake tossed Charlotte a blanket before he moved to open it.

It was Toby, dripping with rainwater and sweat. "What you got going on in there, Doc." Toby tried to bend past him to see inside.

Blake stepped out, bumping Toby backwards two steps. "What do you want?"

"Careful now, Doc. Don't go acting out just because my brother is out of the picture."

"Out of the picture?"

"Oh, you didn't hear?" He gave a smug little chuckle. "You'll be hearing tonight, don't worry. All you need to know is I'm calling the shots now. I'm Mother's main guard. I'm her voice, her hands, and all that other shit."

Blake truly didn't care. Zach and Toby were both bad men, if he only had to deal with one monkey on his back instead of two, all the better. "Are you going to tell me why you're here?"

Toby crossed his arms. "Yeah, I'm gonna get around to it." He studied Blake with his beady bloodshot eyes and jutted his jaw, the rusty wheels were spinning. "Mother wants to see you, once you're finished up here."

"Okay, tell her I'll be along shortly."

"Better be."

"I just told you I'd be there. Anything else?"

The wheels were spinning again. The teeth were grinding. A minute passed slowly between them. Toby turned on his heels and started marching away, tossing a few verbal grenades over his shoulder. "Big mouth, gonna catch a beat down."

Mother was in a rare mood. She danced from her seat when Blake walked into her office. "Doctor, it is so good to see you, especially on a day such as this. It is a day of days, is it not?" She twirled to the window and pushed back the shutters.

"In light of the events that have taken place recently, I'd say that today is a most welcome change."

"Yes, the events as of late have been most troublesome. I know that you and I have clashed recently. But you've proven to me that I was mistaken in mistrusting you. The way you handled the heresy of Colton and that harlot Kati, the bravery you showed last night in the face of my foolish son, you have proven to me that your faith remains firm."

In spite of the hollowness he felt towards her admonition, he bowed his head gracefully. "I'm here, only to serve His will."

"That's good. That's great!" She propped herself back against the window sill, framed by the noonday light. "So, tell me there is good news?"

"Charlotte is pregnant."

Mother threw her hands towards the ceiling, clenched her fists, and pulled something invisible from the air. "Thank you, Creator! Thank you, Father! Praise Him!"

"Yes," Blake said, echoing her sentiments with forced conviction.

She came towards him, her arms flapping wildly. "Doctor, don't you see the blessing? This is just what we need. It's just what Reeman needs. The Father is showing us that he's pleased by our obedience: the judgment of the heretics, the punishment of my son."

"Is he to take the Fall as well?"

Mother shook her head. "No, but he is no longer to serve as my personal guard. He will be standing nights on the wall, indefinitely."

_I guess we can't get everything we want in life._

"I had my concerns. Truly, I did. After Zach defiled the house of our Creator I thought we'd lost His blessing. I could feel the faith of the people slipping. But with the rain and this child growing in Charlotte's belly," she let out a little squeal of excitement, "the people are going to be renewed!"

_And less willing to ask questions._

"Now," she shook his hands up and down in her own, like a little girl trying to get the attention of her father, "would you be willing to make the announcement at tonight's ceremony?"

"The Declaration of Multiplication?"

"Yes, would you do it? We're losing so many lives in such a short amount of time. I think the announcement of new life would be good for morale. And I think it'd mean more coming from you, you're out there pounding the ground with them day in and day out."

"Of course, I'm happy to make the announcement."

She touched his face; the side where her fingernails had left their mark. "It does my heart good to know that I have you with me, Doctor."

He wanted to crumple her paper hands beneath his own. He wanted to feel her bones turn to powder, to bring her to her knees, to hear her plead for his mercy. "It does my heart good as well, Mother." He smiled and gave her fingers a small squeeze.

# 25

"Is that smoke?" They were the first words that had been broken between them in hours.

Dominic turned at the sound of her voice, following her finger. "That's definitely smoke."

"Seems like a bit much, don't you think?"

"It's definitely not a cook fire."

Three fat plumes of smoke twisted and twirled, joining against the skyline, rising as a single black cloud before flattening out into a thin haze.

"What's over there?"

"A settlement, if memory serves."

"Should we go check it out? They could be in trouble."

Dominic sighed, checking the sun as if it were a watch face. "It'll put us behind... but yeah, we probably should. It'll gnaw at us the rest of the day if we don't."

Getting to the source was a short one hour walk through faceless sands. The ground was already bone dry, bearing no sign of the morning downpour.

Dominic had been right, it was a settlement. A small community made up of hovels, standing an arm's length apart, glued together by plank, and mud, and thatch. Most of the structures were propped three feet off the ground by sturdy wooden pillars, so they wouldn't flood when the rains blew through. There was a trading post, a well, small fields of arid crops, a town hall, and a clinic. All of it was surrounded by a waist high fence, meant more to discourage critters than anything else. But what had once been a picture of normalcy was now cloaked in violence. As Dominic and Lerah drew closer explosions went off. Distant screams began to reach them, fractured by bursts of gunfire. As homes burned they could see the blurred outlines of people running in and out of the flames.

"Those look like soldiers to me," Dominic motioned towards two men that were standing guard in front of the settlement. "I don't like this. There's no concealment. They start shooting and we're done." There wasn't a tree, a rock, or a rusted car in sight. It was all open space between them and the besieged settlement. "Keep your weapons out of sight, maybe they won't plug us before we can finish our approach."

"They look like Union." Lerah shielded her eyes with a bladed hand.

"What do you mean they look like Union?"

"I grew up in Genesis, just trust me, I know them when I see them."

The two men had taken notice of their approach and were moving to meet them with their weapons shouldered, yelling something that Dominic couldn't quite make out.

"Put your hands up," Dominic said.

"What?"

"Just put your hands up! I don't feel like getting shot."

Lerah did as instructed. "Yeah they're Union, we'll be fine."

"I bet the folks in that settlement thought the same thing."

"Just be quiet. Keep your head. These are my people, I'll find out what's going on."

"Get on your knees!" The one yelling commands had a healthy paunch extending out over his belt.

"We're Union." Lerah stepped forward to meet him.

Dominic tensed up, expecting her to be met with a wall of lead.

"Name?" Paunch asked.

"Lerah Adams, Shadeux, and daughter of Defense Minister Adams."

The two soldiers quickly lowered their weapons. "Apologies ma'am, who is he?"

"He's working with us on a mission, he reports directly to the Lord Marshal."

"Understood," Paunch responded humbly, revealing his lowly position on the Union totem pole. "I'm Private Schaefer and this is Private Mendoza."

Mendoza nodded.

At that moment a young girl came running from the settlement. Her clothes were torn. Her face was covered in tear streaked soot. "Help—" Her appeal for salvation was cut short. Three rounds of automatic gunfire tore through her back and opened gaping holes across her sternum. Bloody saliva trickled from her lips and her eyes rolled back in her head before she fell to the ground.

"What was that?" Dominic charged forward like a blast of thunder, sudden and violent.

Mendoza raised his rifle and took a couple steps back, keeping Dominic in his sights. "Hold it right there, big boy!"

Dominic grabbed the barrel and jerked the rifle from his grasp. Mendoza stumbled forward with the force and Dominic rammed him square in the nose with the stock before tossing it into the dirt; Mendoza went down clutching his face.

"That's far enough; you just assaulted a Union officer!" Schaefer was standing over his fallen comrade, his gun pointed at Dominic's chest.

"You need to go ahead and lower that weapon, soldier." Lerah was calm and collected. She was in her zone. She knew these men, she knew where she stood in the pecking order; they weren't going to turn a muzzle on her. "Lower it, now." She placed the barrel of her pistol against his temple, giving it an extra little push when there was a delay in his compliance. "What the hell is going on here?"

"You better have a good reason for shooting an unarmed girl in the back." Dominic brought his rifle out from under his jacket.

"Dominic, calm down, let me handle this."

"You better be quick about it." Dominic was on the brink of running into the settlement on his own, guns blazing; damn Lerah and damn the Union.

More cries were cut short by gunfire. More homes began to smolder and flame.

Lerah jammed her gun a little harder against Paunch's scalp. "You've got two seconds."

"The Rebels, it was the Rebels! We were sent out as security to guard the banners of truce. To make sure the diplomats were safe and to make sure the chests of coin found their way into the right hands. We were hit on the road. They took out a bunch of our men and made off with the coin. That's why we're here."

"That's why you're here? You think they have your coin?" Dominic gestured towards the settlement with the barrel of his gun.

"Captain Perkins believes they do."

"Perkins is here?"

"Yes, your father sent him along with the 6th, to assist us in getting the coin back."

"Bullshit," Lerah spat.

"Go see for yourself. Ask him."

"Let's all go ask him together." Dominic pulled Mendoza from the dirt and gave him a swift kick in the rear, compelling him towards the burning settlement.

"Throw your weapon in the dirt and walk!" Lerah commanded.

"Ma'am, this is completely unnecessary."

"Until I know why unarmed civilians are getting shot in the back, it's going to remain necessary. Drop the gun."

Schaefer relinquished the firearm and followed after Dominic, his arms spread out to his sides. "Your father and the Lord Marshal are not going to like this one bit."

"I'll deal with them, you just focus on walking."

Dominic stopped and dropped his backpack. "We should leave our packs here. We can grab them on the way out."

"Why?" Lerah asked.

"Less weight to haul around. Trust me, if things get hairy, you'll appreciate the extra agility."

She didn't look convinced, but she went along with it anyway.

As Dominic moved through the mouth of the settlement the full scale of the horror began to reveal itself. There were bodies: burnt, broken, naked, and lying strewn across the main footpath. Panicked settlers, their clothes hanging from their bodies in dirty strips of cloth, ran back and forth among the carnage, trying to escape the men nipping at their heels with guns and knives.

"This is how you recover stolen coin?" Dominic grabbed Mendoza by the scruff of his shirt, keeping him close.

"This wasn't me." He was pinching his leaky nostrils. "We just stood outside."

Dominic choked and coughed as the ravenous flames on either side of him consumed the hovels and clogged the footpath with thick black smoke. His eyes burned and watered, distorting his line of sight.

As they entered the town square things began to clear up. The air became breathable again. A dozen or so settlers were huddled together in a small circle. They were clutching each other, waiting for their bloody fates to be fulfilled. Soldiers stood on every side of them, dressed in multi-cam combat pants, tan knee pads, and matching multi-cam shirts zipped high around their necks. They wore tactical vests carrying an assortment of combat gear: knives, extra magazines, satchel charges, grenades. Their faces were painted black and they wore tan combat hats low across their eyes. Their rifles came up when they saw Dominic and Lerah, and the commands started flying.

"Drop the guns!"

"Drop the guns, now!"

"Release our men and drop the guns, now!"

Lerah pushed past Dominic. She had an iron grip on the back of Schaefer's shirt and her pistol was jammed against his spine. "I'm Lerah Adams! I'm the Defense Minister's daughter!"

The soldiers squinted against the sun, trying to see past her pudgy hostage.

"Men, drop them, what she says is true. She is the Defense Minister's daughter. She's one of us." The voice of peace belonged to a stocky man with a cleft chin. He moved through the crowd like some great sage, reassuring his men, pushing the barrels of their black assault rifles towards the ground. He stepped through and over the settlers, a smile breaking across his lips. "Lerah, it's good to see you. I must confess, I'm a bit surprised. I knew you were sent out, but I wasn't aware that your orders brought you this far east."

Dominic cut in before she could respond. "We saw the explosions, call us curious."

"You must be the Outlander. Hause told me about you." It was a reluctant admission of Dominic's existence. "Lerah, what's this about? Why are my men being held at gunpoint?"

"They stepped out of line."

Perkins crossed his short arms over his chest. "Well, you have my apologies."

"The hell with apologies, I want to know what is going on?"

"Please let my men go, first, so that we can talk face-to-face?"

"Lerah—"

"Dominic, it's fine, let him go." Lerah released Schaefer with a shove and sent him stumbling towards Perkins. She kept her pistol unholstered near her thigh.

Dominic, reluctantly, did as requested. They were her people. He kept his rifle pointed towards the sky; one hand on the front stock, one on the back, his finger swimming near the trigger.

"Talk," Lerah ordered.

"The 5th, your fellow soldiers, were escorting diplomats and a chest of coin. They came under attack by Rebels. The Rebels killed our diplomats and the 5th lost half their men. They also took our coin. Hause and your father sent us out here to retrieve the coin and see to justice."

"My father?"

"These are your father's men. I'm just overseeing them in the field."

Lerah sighed, dropped her head, and rubbed at her temples with her thumb and forefinger.

"These aren't Rebels, you asshole! These are civilians, non-combatants. So why are you shooting them down and burning their homes?"

Perkins squared his shoulders. "I won't answer to an Outlander, I advise you to keep your mouth shut. If it weren't for the Defense Minister's daughter you'd be sitting right there with the rest of them."

"That's where you're wrong. You do answer to me, you're in my territory. These are my people. And if it weren't for the Defense Minister's daughter I'd have blown your head off by now." The rifles came up again, all of them pointed in Dominic's direction. Dominic racked the slide on his own weapon and set the sights on Perkin's chest. "He'll go with me!"

Lerah jumped into the fray, placing herself between Dominic and Perkins. "Dominic! Let me talk to him for a minute. We don't want more bloodshed."

Dominic backed down, a deep fire still burning behind his eyes. "You may not want blood, but I sure do. You've got one minute, then I'm gonna start getting the answers my way." The Union boys were eyeing him, their hands practically shaking with the excitement of imminent combat. For them the trigger wasn't a last resort, it was a fond friend that scarcely darkened their doorway.

"What's the deal Perkins, explain this to me?"

Perkins wasn't much happier about answering to Lerah. "You know, it's my operation, I really—"

"You're going to explain yourself, or my gun is coming up next. You and your men might get me, but do you want to try to justify my death to Hause and my father?"

He wet his lips. "No... I do not."

"Then start talking."

The heat was pressing hard at Dominic's back. The sound of the nearby flames boiled in his ears. The hovels around him crackled and popped and crashed as they were consumed.

"Look," Perkins retrieved a map from his back pocket, there were three large black circles drawn on the upper right hand side, "the attack took place in between these three quadrants. We were commanded to come through and press these settlements for answers."

"Press them for answers?" Lerah asked, as if she hadn't heard him correctly.

"Yeah, press them," Perkins sounded hopeful, as if they were finally on the same page.

"And that means what to you? Shoot them? Terrorize them? Rape them? Burn their homes?"

"I'll admit that some of the men got a little bit... excited... a little out of control. They lost their brothers. When we got here, their emotions got the better of them. It's regrettable."

"Bullshit! This is what you assholes did during the war."

"Dominic, please, just let me handle this." Lerah placed a hand against his chest. "Perkins, it seems to me that you're not able to control your men. Perhaps you're not fit for field command."

"You're not the one that gets to make that call."

"I will be reporting what I've seen here today. The Lord Marshal can decide what to do with you."

Perkins shrugged. "Go ahead, no skin off my ass. I'll even help you write the narrative."

"You sonofabitch, this is okay with you?" Lerah motioned to the group of terrified settlers.

"What I'm not okay with is you and that scum coming in here and trying to tell me how to handle my mission. So, if you're done preaching, I've got work to do."

"No you don't, you and your men are leaving."

"Really, little lady, are you planning on making us?"

His men rolled their shoulders and cracked their necks, emboldened by their Captain's rebellion.

Lerah raised her pistol. "Yeah, little man, I'm planning on making you."

"Men, if she pulls that trigger, you kill them and everyone in this shithole. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir!"

Dominic had his gun up, but there were a dozen rifles winking back at him, he didn't quite know where to aim.

Perkins didn't flinch. He just stood there, stoic, his hands clasped at his back, staring down the barrel of a loaded gun as if it were part of his daily routine. "I don't give a shit whose daughter you are, you kill me and these men will bury you. What you're doing is treason."

"When the Lord Marshal finds out what you've done, I think he'll forgive me."

Perkins clucked his tongue. "Do you think he doesn't know? The depth of your naivety touches me. How did the Lord Marshal put it?" He leaned forward, lips pursed. "Oh yeah, I believe he said, _by any means necessary_."

A cry for help formed somewhere beyond the flames and smoke. Dominic backed towards the distress call, his sights still set on Perkins and his men, daring them to act.

"Hey, hold up, where's he going? I don't want him interfering! Command him to stop!" Perkins protested.

When Dominic reached the edge of the square, he turned and ran. The sounds of dissent faded as he trekked deeper into the bowels of hell. He moved foot over foot, covering his sidelines with his rifle. The black smoke strangled him. He coughed and spit. His eyes boiled over with tears. Keeping his bearings was like trying to track the sunset through a dirty window. Just as he was about to call off the search, a series of high pitched shrieks sounded just ahead of him. They were close. There was the sound of skin hitting skin and the low grunting of a male in the throes of passion.

"Get... off... me! Help!"

Dominic found them. She was a young girl, a teenager. She was naked from the waist down. She was on her stomach, clawing at the ground, trying to pull herself to freedom. Her attacker was a crooked faced soldier with wild eyes, also naked from the waist down. He was strapped to her back, trying to wedge her legs apart with his knees.

The soldier looked up just in time for Dominic's boot heel to slam him in the center of the face. The impact sent him flying backwards on to his naked ass.

The girl scrambled to her knees, covering herself with her hands. She looked up at Dominic with fear in her eyes, as if he were just the next man in line to have a go at her.

"Get out of here, you're not gonna want to stick around for this." The girl was on her feet and heading in the opposite direction before Dominic could finish the sentence.

"I'm a Union soldier! You know what that shit means?" The half naked man was sliding backwards on his ass, trying to get his pants up around his waist at the same time.

Dominic had his rifle in one hand and his machete in the other. "You rape little girls? You burn their homes? Am I getting close?" Walls of flame rose on either side of them, creating a shower of delicate ash.

"Listen, don't do anything stupid. We were just having a little fun."

Dominic slashed at the soldier's shins.

He recoiled.

The blade partially severed one leg and nicked the other. The soldier howled. He clutched at his knee as the bottom of his leg flopped about, no longer under his control. A piece of white bone protruded from the layers of fat and flesh, like some broken fossil.

"If you hadn't moved like that I could have made the cut clean, now we've got all this mess."

The man's ability to speak had devolved into wounded animal noises. He threw his head back as tears escaped between the scrunched up folds of his eyelids.

"That's enough out of you." Dominic leveled his gun and took his head apart with two pulls of the trigger.

Lerah jumped at the sound of the gunshots. She turned her focus from Perkins for just a fraction of a second.

That's all the time he needed.

He charged her, shoulder first, and wrapped a hand around her wrist, deflecting the gun. He lifted her from her feet and drove her into the ground, breaking her grip on the pistol and knocking it beyond her grasp. "Get that Outlander sonofabitch, I've got her!" Perkins' soldiers broke off in the direction of the gunshots. Perkins planted his knees on either side of her waist, pinning her against the ground. He rolled his hands into fists and rained two off balance blows down on her head. She blocked the next blow and grabbed him by the collar, meeting his face with a quick head butt. Before he could recover she trapped his arm against his side, snaked her other arm around his upper back, and pulled him to her chest. She kicked a leg out, bucked her hips, and turned him over on to his back, gaining the mount. She laid into his ribs with her knee, it didn't take the fight out of him for long, but it gave her enough time to reach one of the knives holstered at her waist. She came around and drove it into the top of his bicep.

"Bitch!" He pummeled her jaw with his fist.

She rolled off of him and retrieved her pistol before coming up to her knees. Blood began to fill the inside of her mouth. She spit a ball of red mucus into the dirt and held him in her sights. "Perkins, if you attempt to get up I'm going to end you, plain and simple." The settlers, seeing that their captor was no longer a threat, began to flee the square.

Dominic knew the gunshots would get their attention. He was counting on it. He watched them from behind the flames, his face and arms covered in warm ash, the perfect camouflage given the conditions. He was crouched down within the remnants of a collapsed hovel, the front porch and the support columns still burned and the flames broke high enough to conceal his position.

There were three of them. They were moving in a tight formation, each one covering an angle.

Well trained.

Alert.

Ready.

He launched from the wreckage, his machete in hand, pointed downward and thirsty for blood. He landed atop the soldier at the center of the group, burying the machete between his clavicle and shoulder blade, pressing down with every ounce of force he could muster, sending it right through the top of his heart. Dominic released the machete and took up the fallen rifle. He kicked out, sweeping the soldier at the rear off of his feet while simultaneously firing from the hip and blowing the guts out of the pack leader. Dominic dropped the rifle and worked the machete free from his first target. The man at the rear was just registering what'd happened when Dominic lopped his head from his shoulders.

A group of them, more than Dominic could count on one hand, came around the bend and saw him standing over the massacred bodies of their squad mates. They opened fire. Dominic dove for the underside of the nearby hovel as bullets tore into the ground around him. He navigated the burning support pillars as the deadly projectiles snapped through the air, missing him by inches. The pillars were fracturing, disintegrating beneath the flames. Any second now and the whole damn place would come down on top of him. Just a few more feet until he hit fresh air and sunlight. He rolled from beneath the structure as it collapsed at his heels. The impact sent out a mushroom cloud of black smoke, obscuring him from the view of his attackers.

The town hall was directly across the way. It'd gone completely untarnished. Dominic clambered to his feet and broke into a labored sprint. Razorblades jostled around in his lungs with every footfall and ragged breath. He hit the doors just as his pursuers were emerging from the smoke and debris, dropping to the floor as the bullets started flying. Scattered blots of sunlight began to decorate the floor as they punched holes in the wall behind him. He began propelling himself down the center aisle using his knees and elbows. The long benches on either side of him weren't much of a shield, but he wasn't exactly flush with options. The lone window to his right exploded. The shouting from outside swept into the room.

"Check for another way in."

"There is no other way in."

"Through the window."

"I ain't going through a window, not against this guy!"

"Forget it, we've got him locked up tight, he's not getting out of there, not in one piece anyway."

Dominic's ultimate destination was the lectern at the front of the room. He could make his stand there. He rolled up onto the stage as two of the soldiers shouldered their way through the door. They ran sideways, firing frantically. The shots were wildly off their intended mark. Dominic remained calm as the bullets tore up the stage around him, breathing out slow as he dropped his elbows.

He squeezed the trigger.

**_: : : pop: : : : : : pop: : : : : : pop: : :_**

The shots stitched the first shooter diagonally, from the right side of his chest to the bottom of his throat. The impact threw him against the wall. He slid to the ground, leaving a thick smear of carnage in his wake.

The second shooter went into a combat roll and took up cover behind one of the rear benches. Dominic rolled left as a barrage split the lectern in half above his head, raining splinters of wood down on top of him. He shot the second soldier through the bench, knocking him back on to his ass. The soldier stood up on rubbery legs. He appeared to be in shock as he looked down at the gaping wound pissing blood from the center of his chest. Dominic fired again, blowing the top of his head off.

Something heavy crashed against the side of the building. A few seconds passed and then something else hit. Dominic's mind raced back to Genesis, to the pub, to the distillery, to the wall coming down on top of him.

"Not again!" He dove right, landed on his stomach, and curled his arms across the top of his head. The blast sent a tidal wave of debris sailing across the room. Shards of glass skimmed the top of Dominic's elbows before embedding in the opposite wall. He couldn't afford to remain there, huddled like a child during a storm. He rolled to his back and sat up. His gun was cradled under one arm. The shouts of his enemy were muffled music, suppressed by the concussion of the blast. The Union boys were storming the breach and firing blind. To Dominic they appeared as hazy outlines, flowing over the hill of wreckage, their features concealed by the sun drenched smoke still swimming in the air.

A target was a target.

Dominic picked one. He went down screaming.

Then he picked another.

And another.

They ducked and dodged. They moved to the left and then to the right, holding their weapons at awkward angles, trying to shoot without being shot.

Another went down screaming.

Then another.

Dominic dropped the magazine on his rifle and slammed a fresh one home.

"Back out! Back out!"

Dominic could see the faint outlines of the last two soldiers as they scampered backwards towards the light. They held their rifles above their heads, firing in big dramatic fans. Once they made it outside, they took up cover on either side of the breach, their backs planted firmly against the wall.

"You sonofabitch, you just wait until we get our hands on you!"

"You Union boys are slow learners." Dominic moved away from the shattered lectern, taking a position down between the seats. He propped up on the arm of one of the benches and waited.

Four shots rang out.

**_: : : pop-pop: : :_** _pause_ ** _: : : pop-pop: : :_**

"Dominic, it's clear!"

He'd never been happier to hear Lerah's voice.

She was standing with a sea of burning hovels at her back. She had Perkins in front of her on his knees; her pistol was pressed against the back of his skull. Her face was bruised and battered. She looked shaken but capable; the two guards lying dead on either side of Dominic were a testament to that.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I had to put a knife in his arm."

"I'm sure he earned it."

"So, what now?"

"Put him down and let's get back on the road."

"Wait, what? Execute him? No, I can't do that. We saved the settlers. The situation is diffused. I can explain this to Hause and to my father. I can explain us defending ourselves. I can't explain the field execution of one of our Captains."

"He'll arm himself and he'll come for us; he'll haunt us all the way to Reeman. Or worse, he's going to go back to Genesis, twist the story however it suits him, and come back for us with an army."

Lerah shook her head. "We'll have to deal with it. This man is not a threat. He is wounded and he is unarmed. Executing him will make us no better than the bastards we just killed."

Perkins smiled, revealing two sets of bloody teeth. "Kill me, don't kill me, both of you are already dead. Your bodies will hang from the walls of Genesis." He looked around at the corpses of his soldiers as he spoke. "You're a traitorous whore, Lerah. Your father can't save you. Not after this. You'll be passed around by our boys in the dungeon. Your ass will be so raw that you'll beg us for death; you'll go out with a smile on your face. And as for this motherless fuck, this animal, it's going to be slow. They'll bleed you of every last drop you've got in your miserable fucking body. Scalpels, hammers, pliers, saws, and good old fashion fists... you've never felt the kind of pain they're going to bring down on your head. You'll die screaming, just like my men did. Kill me, let me live, it doesn't matter. Your death warrants were signed the moment you walked on to my fucking field!" He spat at Dominic's shoes and missed.

Lerah looked to Dominic. She looked at the back of Perkin's head. Her finger rattled, hovering just above the trigger.

She knew what had to be done, but she wasn't going to be the one to do it.

"It's okay. Just go."

She nodded and holstered her pistol.

Dominic waited until she disappeared from view, then he pumped nine rounds into Perkin's chest.

As Dominic was walking to meet Lerah he caught a burst of movement out of the corner of his right eye. He dropped down to one knee and made the rifle ready.

Two shirtless Union boys emerged from behind scattered pieces of a collapsed wall; the naked body of some sexual conquest was broken, lying at their feet. They raised their hands at the sight of Dominic. One of them was still doing up his pants, a splash of blood standing out against the crotch.

"Now hang on. We're unarmed. You'll get no fuss from us."

Dominic didn't let up on the trigger until the magazine clicked empty.

"What was that about?" Lerah asked as she handed him his pack.

"Just some more people that needed killing."

"Is Perkins dead?"

"Yeah, he's dead."

She gave a weak nod and started back towards the road.

"You okay with that?"

"I'm fine."

She didn't sound fine, but Dominic didn't push it. They'd just killed a whole lot of her people. He counted it a small miracle that she was still standing beside him. He hiked his pack up and checked the sun's position in the sky. "This is definitely going to put us back a bit." He was stretching for conversation, trying to make everything okay, trying to bring the needle back down out of the red.

Minutes passed and still, she said nothing.

Dominic gave up after that. Perhaps time would do what his words couldn't.

# 26

Blake stood near Mother in the middle of the town square, next to Zach and Toby. A layer of red faced Watchmen formed a circle around them, holding back the crowd.

Zach wasn't his usual cocky self. He kept his eyes pointed at his feet, stealing the occasional glance over the tops of his eyelids, wringing his hands together. Blake had never seen him in such a state. It almost made him seem human.

Toby didn't seem to notice his brother's plight, or the crowd, or Mother. He seemed to be soaring above them, grinning like a fool. He was Mother's go-to guy. Her personal guard. Her only guard. Soon all of Reeman would know it.

Mother was turning circles, addressing the crowd. "Today has been a day-of-days, has it not?"

Cheers and celebratory fists rose into the air.

"The waters of heaven were poured out upon us. Our Father smiles, He is pleased. We are a sweet taste upon His lips." Mother fanned her hands up and down, quieting the mob. "Listen very closely. This was not always the case. Most of you bore witness to the unfortunate events that took place within our Creator's house last night." She paused while the crowd nodded and confirmed their knowledge of the incident in question."You saw the violence committed. You watched as a dear member of this community was injured. Our Father was not pleased. Last night, I sat before Him, beseeching Him not to turn His back on us. Do you hear what I'm saying to you?"

"Yes, Mother!"

"Thank-you!"

"I said, and listen to me now, I sat before him. I beseeched him." She began walking the circle, pointing her fingers at various members of the buzzing throng. "I beseeched him for you! For you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you, for all of you! I beseeched him!"

The ground quaked and the air turned electric.

"He made me a deal. He told me, and this is important for all of you to understand, He told me that He would keep us close to His bosom and that He would pour his blessings out upon us, but He said we have to make it right. Specifically, He said that Zach had to make it right. But before I allow him to speak, let me assure you that Zach is no longer one of my personal guard. He no longer speaks on my behalf. As of tonight, he will be taking a place on the wall with the men of the Watch. I hope that will bring some small comfort to all of you, especially to you and your family, Terrence."

Terrence's nose was a swollen mess of meat, with ribbons of black and blue running across the bridge.

"Go on Zach, speak." Mother shoved him towards Terrence.

Zach stood there, locking and unlocking his fingers, his knees clacking together. The words on his tongue presented themselves as rattling squeaks.

"Speak, boy!"

Zach flinched. "I just, well, I want to start out by saying how sorry I am. To Terrence and his wife, I'm sorry. To all of ya'll, I'm sorry. I brought shame down on all of us."

Toby had attempted a go at Terrence. The only reason he'd remained on his leash was because Zach had held him back. Now, here Zach stood, taking a load on his shoulders that didn't entirely belong to him.

_They're both bad men. Why do I care who takes the hit? They've both got it coming._

"So, yeah, that's about all I wanted to say. Hope ya'll can forgive me. Hope Mother and our Father can forgive me... ya'll have a goodnight."

Zach turned to leave and take his place on the wall. Mother stepped in his path, laying her hands softly against his chest. "There will just be one more thing, my dear. Wait right there."

His face bloomed. It seemed as if the tides had turned and he was going to be brought back into the fold.

Mother hooked her arm around Zach's waist. "While his apology seemed genuine, and while it is suitable in the eyes of men, our Father demands more from us."

A small commotion arose at the back of the crowd. The people were shifting left and right as two men from the Watch barreled their way through. The one in front was carrying something low, something heavy, his face strained with the effort. The inner part of the circle opened up for the men and their equipment, closing as soon as the last one was through. The men entered the circle behind Zach and began arranging their tools: a thick piece of log, a ball peen hammer, and a chisel.

Zach yanked away from Mother, his eyes moving wildly as he began putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "What is this shit?" Zach pointed to the log. The pear shaped man standing behind it was rubbing the hammer and chisel together in an excessive display of sinister intent.

"Language!" Mother slapped Zach with an open hand. "The Creator demands blood."

"No! I apologized! I did it! Just like you told me! I made it right!"

Mother clapped her hands twice. "Toby, assist these men with your brother." Two of the men guarding the inner part of the circle set their rifles down and closed in on Zach.

"Mother, you sure that I really need—"

"Toby! Do it! Or you're next on the block."

Zach stood, petrified. His eyes darted back and forth in their sockets. The guards approached him from either shoulder, their hands out, ready to make the grab.

Toby's arms were turning in small circles, as if Zach's body was made of thorns and he was trying to find a spot to grab on to. "I'm sorry man, make this easy."

Zach lunged.

Toby recoiled, still afraid of his big brother.

The two guards caught Zach under either arm and yanked him back before he could do any damage. They began dragging him towards the log at the center of the circle as he kicked and bucked.

Toby charged into the fray, spurred on by the weakness he'd just demonstrated. "Come on, get him down!" Toby kneed Zach in the stomach and helped the guards spin him around. They kicked his knees away and forced him down over the makeshift altar.

"Right hand gentleman, get his right hand up. I want the fingers of the offending hand." Mother cruised above the scene, tapping at her bottom lip.

Blake scanned the sea of faces for his wife and child, hoping Riley had taken Judith far away from the impending ugliness. A small blanket of comfort curled around his shoulders when his search came up empty.

"Last night, when I spoke with our Father, He told me that blood was the only appropriate payment for the debt my son incurred, a debt that all of us now owe. None of us are above His laws, not me and not my sons. Would you see justice done? Would you satisfy the will of our Father?"

It started as a slow clap. Then the cries for blood began to emerge. They were like a pack of dogs, turning on one of their own in exchange for a few choice morsels of hearsay revelation. They'd known Zach since he was a child, running around town with a wooden stick, slapping shins and poking butts. He'd been a little bastard back then too, but he'd been their little bastard. Now here they were, cheering his mutilation.

"Commence!" Mother cut the air with the blade of her hand.

Zach's arm was wrestled straight and held in place by two of the guards, while Toby unrolled his fingers and forced his hand flat.

Zach screamed and tried to push himself up by his knees. He became desperate and attempted to bite his captors. Toby delivered a blow to the side of his head that knocked him silly and turned his screams into slurred mumblings.

The pear shaped man with the multiple chins stepped forward, moistening his lips with his slug like tongue. Blake recognized him. He'd seen him loafing around the walls beneath the sun, with half moons of dark sweat staining the underarms of his tight fitting tunics. He couldn't recall his name, Vic or Rick, something _ick_ , something short and simple and appropriate.

_Ick_ squatted down, like he was trying to wedge his wide butt into a narrow seat, his gut sagging between his knees like an overstuffed potato sack. He set the gleaming edge of the chisel against the joint of Zach's right thumb.

"No, please! Momma, please make him stop!"

_Ick_ looked to Mother one last time, perhaps to ensure that the fire of her resolve wasn't waning.

Mother responded with thin lipped indignation. She didn't like hesitation. She didn't like being second guessed.

_Ick_ received the message loud and clear. He was in a rush to appease her, paying little attention to detail. He brought the hammer down at a sloppy angle, only making a partial connection with the head of the chisel. The blade bit into Zach's thumb, but it didn't disconnect the finger. Not completely, at least.

Zach screamed and squirmed. His body shook back and forth as he tried to break free. The two guards and Toby were practically lying on top of him. The thumb was still connected by a thin piece of bone and tissue. As Zach struggled it flopped around, going one direction while the rest of his fingers went the other.

"Oh, come on now, Mick." _Mick! That's the fat man's name_. "Don't drag it out." Toby said, losing his grip on Zach's wrist.

"I slipped."

"Get on with it!" Mother hissed.

Zach was breathing heavy, pounding his forehead against the wooden surface as he squealed for mercy.

"It'll be over before you know it, big brother, you're doing great." Toby sounded like he was a doctor, coaching a pregnant woman through her labor pains, rather than just some halfwit sadist torturing his family at the behest of some crazy woman and her invisible friend.

_Why do I do this?_

_For Riley. For Judith._

Mick finished up on the right thumb with a quick jab of the chisel. The impact sent the bloody nub spinning over the side of the log and into the dirt. After that Mick made quick work of the remaining fingers. He really found his groove by the time he hit the middle digit. That was also about the time Zach blacked out from the pain.

When the deed was done everyone stepped back and allowed Zach's body to ragdoll to the ground. Toby, strangely enough, was the only one that seemed to care about his brother's condition. He knelt over him and checked his pulse. "Heart's still beating," he announced.

"Of course, imbecile, it was a few fingers. We didn't gut the boy." The crowd laughed along with Mother. "Come now, leave him be."

"Shouldn't we have Doc bandage him up?"

"We will, but right now, the Doctor has an announcement to make. It's something very special, another blessing from our Father."

"I could throw a bandage on him... it wouldn't take much time."

"No, you will do your duty here. Then, if you wish, you can tend to him." It was obvious that she didn't care if Zach lived or died. If he lived, it was by the mercy of the Father. If he died, it was the judgment of the Father. It was a win-win for her. All that mattered was that she'd managed to tighten her grip on the reins of power. Everyone else, including her own sons, be damned.

With Zach bleeding out at his feet, Blake stepped forward. He cleared his throat and made the Declaration of Multiplication, provoking a wave of adoration and applause.

Mother wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Now you may attend to Zach."

"Yes ma'am." Blake turned and signaled for Toby. "Come on, help me with him." There was no objection.

Toby crouched down and got right to it. "Where we going with him?"

"My place, my bag is there."

Mother launched into her closing speech as they departed with Zach's body.

"You know, I didn't want to do this to him," Toby said once they'd gotten beyond the crowd.

"I know," Blake answered flatly.

"It's just... there's no refusing Mother, you know?"

"I know."

_Trust me, I know._

# 27

The conversation with Lerah hadn't gotten any livelier as the day wore on. Dominic had made a fair share of flimsy attempts to remedy the situation; small talk about the hellacious heat, the aching wound on his belly, little anecdotes about his many experiences running solo across the Outland. Every effort was met with either abject silence or a dismissive nod. She'd built her walls high and tight. As they walked she did her best to stay out in front of him and he did little to try to close the gap.

When night fell, they were given no choice but to bed down on open ground. They'd been lucky enough to find an impact crater; it offered them some seclusion from the elements. Still, it was too exposed to risk a cook fire. They were left with only bread, fruit, almonds, and some water for the evening meal. Dominic didn't mind, it was better eating than he was used to. It didn't seem to bother Lerah much either, since she was refusing to eat. After they'd slid down into the crater she'd removed her jacket and weapons, spread out her blanket, and laid down, her back pointed towards Dominic.

"You should really eat something. You need to keep your energy up. I don't want you blacking out on me tomorrow." He didn't care much about her energy or the possibility of her blacking out, what he really cared about was getting her to open her mouth. He could tell by the uneven rise and fall of her breathing that she was still awake and listening. "At least drink something." He jiggled the canteen at the back of her head.

She curled up tighter, as if shielding against a bitter cold.

He tossed the receptacle over his shoulder, frustrated. "Damn it, Lerah! What is it? You're pissed at me, that much is obvious. So why don't you just shoot me straight, like you always do?"

Her feet shifted, the blanket ruffled up around the soles of her boots. Another great chasm of time opened up between them. Just as Dominic moved to further his case, she spoke. "I helped you slaughter my people. Men I've known since I was a child. Excuse me if I'm not feeling talkative."

"So this is about Perkins? You gave me the go ahead on that."

"I just said that I helped you slaughter them, didn't I? It's on me as much as you. But I'd never have been put in that situation if you hadn't come barreling into my life."

"So you'd have been standing beside them instead?"

"That's not what I'm saying, you're twisting my words."

"You know, this guy that you're getting all nostalgic over, I recall him ranting about raping and executing you."

"We killed his men. How would you react?"

He'd probably react similarly, minus all the talk of rape and torture. When powerful men were backed into a corner they were prone to act out of character; to bare their claws and their teeth, to strike out with the blackest parts of their souls. "He was in a bad spot. I'll give you that. Folks tend to handle death one of two ways: open armed acceptance or kicking and screaming. But he put himself there. Not you. Not me. He chose."

"It doesn't make it easier. The memories I have of him span decades. And every damn one of them, barring today, are good. I don't know what happened. That wasn't the man I grew up with."

"I never said it was supposed to make it easier. You may look down on Outlanders, but where I come from, people are just people. There's right and there's wrong. You don't just stand by and let innocents get slaughtered because it's your friends pulling the trigger. We did everything we could to diffuse that situation. They're the ones that brought it to the next level. You shouldn't blame yourself. And even though I know you're going to, you shouldn't blame me. It's like I told you before, it's us or them. It's gotta be us, every time. That's the only way to survive out here."

She sniffled and placed a hand beneath her face. "I don't blame you," her voice cracked.

"I don't know you all that well, but it seems you've got good intentions. I'm willing to bet, that if we could rewind, you'd do the same thing, without hesitation. Not because you enjoy killing. Not because it's easy. But because what we did, saving those people, it was right."

"What if," she patted at her eyes, "those people, what if they really did know something about the Rebels? What if we just helped them get away with it?"

"Do they deserve to have their women raped? Do they deserve to have their houses burned?"

She didn't say anything. Instead she began kicking her boots off, launching them a few feet away with a quick toss of her legs.

"You know, you saved my ass back there. Those boys had me dead to rights."

"Guess that makes us even."

"Guess it does."

The light cast off of the neon moon washed them in its glow like a roving spotlight. Wispy clouds passed over its face like silent ships sailing on a black sea. The wind howled, sending thin layers of sand raining down into their burrow with each designless gust.

Dominic sat there, watching her.

The slope of her hips.

The curve of her ass beneath her quilted pants.

The soft flesh of her back wrapped around lean sheets of muscle.

"About what happened in the rain," he began.

"Nothing happened. I don't want to talk about it."

"It's just... I thought there was something—"

"There's not. You're an Outlander. I'm Union. I'm with you because I don't have a choice."

He laughed. "You are something."

"What I am is tired of listening to you. Kindly shut up."

"It's like you've got two settings: cunt and bitch."

She was up and facing him, her nostrils flaring. "Excuse me?"

"I prefer bitch. At least I can get some decent conversation out of you."

She lunged, a closed fist aimed directly at his face.

He moved into the blow, knocking her back on to her ass, and trapping her hand against her thigh. "I'd expect a more competent attack from such an elite soldier."

"Let me go, I promise I'll get it right next time." She was breathing heavy, her teeth clenched.

"Is this how you charm the boys?"

"Only the ones I really like," she growled.

Dominic gripped her by the chin and pressed his lips to hers. Her teeth were like daggers as they sank into his bottom lip. He recoiled, wiping a ribbon of blood from the corner of his mouth. "Nice."

"Let me go, now!" A vein bulged against the surface of her forehead and her sweat soaked shirt clung desperately to the swell of her breasts.

He released her and raised his hands. She kicked off of him, scuttling back a few feet before coiling herself up like a spring. She remained there, her eyes glowing in the darkness.

"My mistake, I'll take my leave," he said, still feeling the sting of Lerah's bite.

She sprang just as he got his footing. She caught him around the waist, her face coming in sideways against his stomach. Normally a woman of Lerah's stature wouldn't be able to put a man of Dominic's size on his back with such ease, but she'd caught him off balance. The floor of the impact crater was like granite; scorched and sealed by the heat blast of some bomb dropped centuries ago. It was not a soft landing. It took the damned breath right out of his lungs. She loomed over him like a shadow, her hands pressed flat against his chest, her tongue cocked across her front teeth.

Then she started grinding him.

Slowly at first.

Then faster.

She began to run her claws across his chest and torso, the sharp edges of her fingernails easily translated through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Ouch, be careful." She'd started skirting the perimeter of his wound.

"Shut the fuck up," she said breathily. She tore his shirt up around his neck, strangling him in it as her lips began kneading the hard muscle beneath.

"Just... give me a... second... I can take this off."

"Shut," her lips moved lower, "the," across his nipples, "fuck," she was working her way down his stomach, licking long paths with the bed of her tongue, "up." She began pulling at the buckle on his pants, working with a thirsty urgency.

He felt himself stiffening beneath her struggle. "Let me—"

"Stop talking!"

She broke through, setting him free to flap beneath the stars. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt more exposed, even when he was hanging naked in the dungeons of Genesis. He managed to kick his boots loose before she finished working his britches down his legs. She got them over his ankles and then sent them sailing into the darkness. He thought of protesting, but what good would it do?

She was in no reasoning mood.

When she stood to remove her own pants Dominic took the opportunity to shed his jacket and shirt. She was back on top of him in no time, pinning him, her lean stomach pressed against his, the nipples of her breasts poking him through her shirt, her breath on his neck, the coolness of her thighs on either side of his hips.

He was fully enflamed now, fighting to get inside her, but each time she pulled away; teasing him with her warmth and wetness.

It was a game of power.

Dominic had never been conquered and he wasn't about to start now. He wrapped one arm across her back and one across her ass and flipped her.

"Bastard!" She nipped at him when he moved in to kiss her.

He bore down and forced her thighs apart, sliding inside with one stern thrust. She took him easily, gasping with delight, her expression of contempt quickly turning to one of ecstasy. He ran his hands up her stomach, his fingers tracing the rigid lines of muscle, raising her shirt as he fought to get a feel of her breasts.

"Take it off."

"Fuck you, savage. You take it off," she groaned and lifted her arms above her head.

He stripped her of her shirt and sent it sailing in the same direction she'd sent his pants.

She arched her back, meeting each of his thrusts with one of her own. Her muscles tightened and released. She locked her ankles around his lower back and forced him in deeper. "Is that all you can do, you brute? You wanted to fuck me, so fuck me!"

He was already starting to break a sweat. He could feel a familiar tingle telling him that he wasn't going to be able to last much longer without release. "I've got to slow down or—"

"On your back!"

"I can't—"

"On your fucking back!"

He didn't resist.

Within seconds she was rising above him, his prick planted firmly in the wet spot between her legs. She was taking no prisoners. The rest of him didn't exist, only his prick and her desires. "Put your hands on me!"

He started to run his hands up her thighs but she slapped them away, grabbed him by the wrists, and wrapped one hand around her breast and the other across her ass.

"Squeeze! Don't be gentle!"

"Lerah, you've got to slow down, I'm going to—"

"Don't you dare!"

Her ass hardened beneath his grasp with each twist and turn of her torso. Her face was pointed towards the sky, her teeth clenched, profanity and pleasure escaping her lips. He ran his hands down the hour glass of her waist, pressing his thumbs against her stomach as she moved forward and back, faster and faster.

"Oh my god, I'm almost... oh my god!" she squealed.

He was about to explode. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine something else; something old, ugly, fat, and hairy.

Every muscle in Lerah's body went rigid. Her voice became a sputtering squeak, just an ocean of syllables, crashing over one another. She dug her fingers into his forearms as her body rattled like a leaf, and just as quickly as her climax began, it ended. Her body went limp and she fell across his chest, sweaty and content.

She rolled off, on to her back, her slender form glistening in the moonlight, leaving him stiff and unsatisfied. "Um, you finished?"

She nodded briskly and smiled, still fighting to catch her breath. "God... yes."

"What about me?"

She looked at him and giggled. Her eyes fell across his prick, still saluting the night sky. "What about you?"

"I'm in need of some attention."

She shook her head. "You're not finishing off inside me. And I don't see a bath around here, so you sure as shit aren't getting my mouth."

"Your hand then?"

She rolled over and propped herself up on an elbow, her nipples brushing the side of his chest. "Well," she said, licking her lips, "I do consider myself a woman of compromise."

Lerah gazed off into the cluster of stars overhead, little masses of blue and silver winking like thousands of tiny eyes. She couldn't shake the smile from her lips, nor could she extinguish the electricity bouncing around inside of her belly. She felt like hot wax, dripping and morphing into her surroundings, completely at ease. She could sense Dominic watching her. She could hear the ground crunch beneath his skull every time he turned his eyes upon her. In any other moment such a thing would scorch her nerves. Not in that moment. No, in that moment, everything was too right to be made wrong. Not even Dominic's terminal inability to shut up ** __** could ruin it. "Are you going to speak, or just stare like a simpleton?"

"I was just thinking it was pretty good. Wouldn't you say?"

Disarm and disrobe him, and he becomes a boy, hunting for approval like a glassy eyed hound. "You'll get no complaints from me. But don't go getting any ideas about this being a regular thing. It's one time only. We had our fun. The rest is business."

"I never assumed it'd be anything more."

"Well, good, glad we're of a like mind on the matter." The stars continued to wink at her. One leapt from its perch and proceeded to rocket across the sky, leaving a silver trail in its wake that was gradually soaked up by the blackness. She'd read about them in an old book. Read that they weren't really stars at all. Just cast off bits of space dust and rock being burnt up and consumed by the earth's atmosphere. The knowledge had made her sad. She'd enjoyed the idea of stars traveling the sky, looking for new places to call home.

"You know, I never pictured this going down, you and me. I thought I had a better chance of you jamming a knife in my spine."

Damn him and his constant lip flapping. "I thought about it, thinking about it now."

He laughed, either missing the sincerity of her words, or not caring. "That requisitions boy, whatever his name was, told me that you hate men. I will admit, I was prone to believing him until now."

"He said I hate men?"

"Yep, said no one has ever gotten close to you."

"Was he trying to say I've got a thing for pussy?"

"I don't know. That's just what he said. He didn't explain himself further and I didn't ask."

That didn't sit well with Lerah. The little prick had mighty loose lips. If he was sharing such thoughts with an Outlander, who else was he jawing off to? She'd have words with him when she returned. "What'd you say?"

"I didn't really say anything."

"You must have said something. People don't just say nothing."

"Some people do."

"You're not one of those people. You can't even keep your mouth shut long enough for me to look at the stars in peace."

"I spend most of my life in solitude, walking from this place to that. If there's an opportunity for conversation, I try to take advantage of it. Would you deny a thirsty man a few drops of water?"

"So, what'd you say to him?"

"I didn't know you well enough to really say anything worth a damn, I still don't."

"But you did say something?"

"I think I just nodded."

"Do you agree with him?"

The answer was in his hesitation, she didn't need his words. "Lerah—"

"Don't bother." She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. She could feel the sand clinging to her naked back. He reached a hand out to touch her and she retreated. "Just please, don't. I'm fine."

She could hear him back there fiddling around with his hands, sighing heavy. His mind was no doubt swirling, trying to find the next right thing to say.

"I didn't grow up like the other girls. I would have been cast out of Genesis if I'd refused my place as a Union soldier. While the other girls were learning to apply makeup, I was learning how to clean weapons. While they were batting their eyes and wooing boys, I was learning how to break bones. I'm not just the only female Shadeux, I'm one of the only females in the entire Union military."

"Yeah, I don't recall seeing a girl on the battlefield."

"If there were any, they were rendering medical attention to the wounded."

"Aye, that's how we utilized our women as well."

She didn't know why she was explaining herself to an Outlander. Maybe it was because she wanted someone to know the truth about her, to know that she wasn't just some callous man hating bitch. She didn't know when, or if, she would return to Genesis. Perhaps this was to be her final confession. If so, his ears were as good as any. "You know, you can only get cat called and have your ass pawed at so many times before you start raising your guard. Men became my competition. I always felt like there was this extra bar I had to try to reach in order for them to view me as something more than just a little girl playing dress up with daddy's clothes. I broke more than a few noses coming up the ranks. I sent more than a few down to the infirmary before they started to back off and accept me as one of the crew. Yeah, sure, I had my needs, and I handled them when I felt like it. A girl doesn't have to look far to find a cock that's willing and able. But I never really learned much about relationships. And you know, after a lot of the interactions I had with men, I can't say that I ever felt the need for one. I'm not some man hater. I've just got my priorities. Does that make sense?" She looked back over her shoulder at him. The moonlight carved the outline of his powerful body from the dark ground. For a savage, he sure cut a fine form. Her heart fluttered as she watched him.

_Stop being such a school girl. He's a brute. A savage. An Outlander. This was an exchange of pleasure, nothing more._

"Actually, yeah, I do understand. In case you haven't noticed, I'm no expert with women either."

"Oh, I've noticed." She leaned back on her elbows, smiling over at him, their faces now inches apart.

"By the way, my lip still hurts like a sonofabitch."

"You shouldn't have stuck it in my mouth."

"So you just bite without looking to see what's there?"

She fell across him, her cheek against his chest. "It's a reflex."

"Now I know why you're so unpopular with the boys."

She laughed. "Asshole." She started drawing circles on his stomach with the tips of her fingers. "You know, the Union army would have been there by now."

"Been where?"

"Reeman, they would have been there by now, knocking at the front gates."

"Because they use horses?"

"No, those are strictly for the scouts, we don't have enough for everyone. But I've heard stories from my dad. When they've got a target they tend to march all night. They take small breaks for food and water, that's it. There's none of this stopping and making camp."

Dominic yawned and stretched. "Yeah, well, we're not the army. When you've got fewer guys you've got to move smarter, not harder."

"Yeah, yeah, excuses, excuses."

"You know, me and you, we've got more in common than you think." His breath came in hot bursts against the top of her head.

"Oh, this should be rich."

As his fingertips ran up the length of her back, goose-bumps broke out across her flesh. "It's not like I've got any deep insight, I'm not really that sort of man. There's just a lot about you that's familiar."

"Like?"

"The stubbornness. The screwed up family. The loneliness."

"Who said I'm lonely?"

"You're lying here with me, aren't you?"

She laughed and kissed his chest.

"I just... I think I know how you feel. Sometimes I feel the same way, like my path was chosen for me. I was put out young, you know? When the Rebels came knocking, was a boy with my background and disposition really going to say no to a gun and a full belly? And after the war, what other work was there for a guy like me? So as much as I'd like to believe that I'm drawing the picture of my existence, I get the feeling, sometimes, like there's another hand guiding the pencil."

There was something to the disjointed rambling, a bitter truth, but she had no desire to explore the waters further. She decided to close his mouth with her own, forcing his lips apart with her tongue.

"I thought this was one time only?"

"Since we've yet to get dressed, I'd say we're still in the middle of our session. Think you're up to it?"

# 28

Mother stood in the town square. Colton and Kati were on their knees. They were bound and gagged and white sacks were covering their heads. It was early yet, the sun was still bullying the shadows away, but a considerable crowd had gathered in anticipation of the Fall.

Zach watched them from where he sat near the front gate, his legs dangling over the edge of the wall. Doc had done a decent job of patching him up, but there wasn't much to be done for the pain. It burned like fire. A fire that lit through his hand and straight through to his elbow, coiling up, squeezing and laughing as it dug in deeper. Mother and them had done a number, left him with a bloody nub, not fit to scratch his ass. His own Mother had seen it fit to have him butchered up like a wild hog. She'd done him worse than a wild hog. With a hog, you just slit its throat and let it bleed out, quick and painless. You don't cripple the thing and leave it flopping around in the mud.

Toby was down there, strutting around, his chest puffed out. The bastard had taken to his new position like stink to shit. After everything he'd done for that empty headed sonofabitch. Whenever Mother came down on him, he'd always had his back, had always tried to make him feel like he was a part of the bigger picture, despite his mental deficit. Zach never asked for nothing in return except for loyalty. Toby, that sonofabitch, didn't have a shred to give.

_Fuck them! Fuck them both! Their time will come. I can wait it out. I can be patient. Ain't got nothing but time up here on the wall, nothing but time._

They'd outfitted Zach with a flimsy pistol. The slide rattled back and forth, the wood on the grip was chipping, and the hollow points were rusting. It's not like he could use a rifle. That required two good hands. The pistol wasn't much better. He couldn't shoot for shit with his left hand and he only got twelve rounds. Once those were gone, he was screwed. A one handed man in the middle of a gunfight, trying to fumble a fresh magazine into his weapon, was as good as dead.

"You gonna go watch the Fall?" Jeb's bushy beard was still tangled with the remnants of his breakfast. He let out a giant sigh as he knelt down next to Zach, as if he were a leaky balloon.

"Nah, fuck them. Fuck that."

Jeb let out a little grunt that sounded sort of like a laugh. "Yeah, well, I reckon you got yourself a pretty rotten deal."

"You weren't in the audience cheering my suffering?"

Jeb shook his head. "Nope," he said, spitting off the wall, "was up here, like I always am. Don't really take no interest in the suffering of other folks. I ain't seen a Fall in, well, shit, I don't know how long."

Zach hadn't ever given much thought to the suffering of others. To him there were rules; the Creator set them, Mother dictated them, and folks were required to follow them. It was all pretty simple stuff. If someone decided to color outside the lines, they were punished. Why pity them? They were the ones that had chosen to disobey. At least that's how he used to see it. Having his fingers chopped off had caused him to start reconsidering a few things. "Yeah, I suppose it's different being on the other side of it."

"Most folks, they're okay with everything, so long as it don't happen to them."

"You trying to get at me about something, old man?"

"Not trying to get at you about nothing. I'm just stating the obvious. Two days ago you would have been down there hooting and hollering with your brother, kicking them two kids around, paying no mind to their suffering or the suffering of their folks. But now you've felt the lash and your mind is all switched around."

"My mind ain't switched around. It's the same as it's always been. They tried to escape, they killed one of our own in the process. They deserve it."

"Some might say the same about you."

"They might. But I still got one good hand to bust their mouth with. What's your deal anyway? You're sitting up here with a rifle, standing guard; you're no different than any of the rest of us."

"Well, you got me there. I suppose I ain't. I'm just saying, there's layers to things. Most folks around here seem to miss that."

"Mother would have you standing on the edge of the Scar tomorrow morning if she heard you saying some shit like that."

"You'd tell her and I'd deny every word. From the looks of it you don't exactly got her ear at the moment."

"To hell with you, old man."

Kati and Colton's parents appeared at the back of the growing crowd. Their arms were linked around each other's shoulders. Their faces were red. A mass of guards stood nearby, ready to intervene if their emotions overran their senses.

"All I'm trying to say is that sometimes things ain't what they seem. I was there in the church when you went in on Terrence. I don't think you should have had your fingers chopped over that. Mother said you desecrated the house of the Creator, but I saw it, and I don't think that's what you did. Was that the intent you had built up inside you?"

"Is there a reason you give a shit?"

Jeb smacked his lips together and flapped his shoulders. "I reckon I don't. I reckon I'm just passing the time."

Zach decided to bite, anything to get the old bastard up and moving along. "When Mother hands you a task, it's got weight to it. She had me up there, filling her shoes, and those are some big ass shoes."

"Yeah, but you done it before."

"But things weren't so on edge then. This was me proving myself to her. You know? Proving that I could handle the big time shit. Then Terrence challenged me in front of everyone and said what he said about Mother. What was I supposed to do? Let it stand? I needed to take control. I needed to make an example. Hell, isn't that what she did with me?" He held up his nub of a hand, wrapped in blood stained bandages.

"I reckon that's exactly what she did."

"And Toby, down there soaking up the glory; it's a bitter taste."

"Well, sometimes we gotta drink what's in front of us."

"I ain't gonna have a second glass, I'll tell you that much." Zach was tired of hearing Jeb's voice, tired of watching the crowd and Mother and Toby. He just wanted to walk, put the sun on his face, and wash his mind out a little. He stood, doing his damndest to avoid scraping his tortured limb on anything.

Jeb joined him, breathing heavy as he reached his feet, his rifle resting across the top of his stomach. "So, what are you gonna do with that second bitter glass when it comes around, toss it back in their face?"

"I'll be damned if I know. My shooting hand is useless. I'm shit with a pistol and worse with a rifle."

"Nah, you ain't."

Zach shoved the meaty wreckage of his hand in Jeb's face and waved it back and forth.

"What of it?"

"What of it? Are you playing funny with me, old man?"

"Not playing funny, I just don't see the problem."

"You ever shot a rifle with one hand? I ain't tried myself, but I imagine it's pretty useless." Zach began to stomp off. He was a cunt hair away from chunking the big bellied bastard from the wall.

"Who said anything about shooting with one hand?"

Now Zach was sure Jeb was shining him on. "I've had my fill of you, mister. I think it's best we part ways."

A slim border of yellow sunlight was slowly wedging itself between them, growing thicker by the minute. "I ain't running some game here. I had a Daddy that lost one of his arms, all the way up to the elbow, during the war. He shot a rifle till his dying day, and he didn't do it with one hand neither. He wasn't no joke. He was a man to be feared when he got behind the sights. Now, if you want, I could show you how. Get you back on a rifle in no time."

Zach eyed Jeb hard, trying to find the sincerity somewhere in the slits of his eyes and the deep lines of his leather skin. "How are you gonna go about doing that exactly?"

"When they leave out for the Fall, how about you come find me and I'll show you?"

Zach didn't have anything to lose and he still had one good hand to bust Jeb with if it turned out he was pulling his chain. "Alright then, we'll meet up back here when Mother and them light out."

"See you back here." Jeb turned and began lumbering away, the wall groaning beneath him.

Zach stood there, watching him go. There was a feather tickling the inside of his guts, floating this way and that, carried by a sliver of breezy optimism.

# 29

There was no talk of the previous evening's indulgences. They rose, dressed, and feasted on almonds and apples. They exchanged cursory glances and mumbled discourse. But despite the want for meaningful conversation, the mood between them lacked the awkwardness Dominic had been expecting. Lerah's spirits had lifted noticeably. He caught her humming as she wedged her feet into her boots. Even Dominic, operating on a scarce parcel of sleep, felt lighter. Their relationship had evolved, not in the romantic sense. There was an understanding that hadn't been there before.

But there were other problems on the immediate horizon. They were nearing their destination and one final obstacle remained in their path. Once they were back on the road it didn't take long in greeting them.

"You remember that bridge I told you about?" Dominic took a knee behind a rubbish wall of old tires and scrap metal, a defensive position for the local bandit tribes haunting the area.

Lerah joined him, staying just off his left shoulder. "Yeah, I wish I didn't."

"Well, that's it, just ahead. You see the way the ground dips down? That's where it opens up. That little black strip you see up there, that's the bridge. I make out four, maybe five guards; can't tell if that last spot is a rock."

She leaned past him, balancing herself on the tires. "There are five, unless rocks have taken to walking."

"Those numbers aren't ideal." Dominic was chewing at his thumb, mulling over their options.

"And it's all open ground... again. I hate this place, all of it. It's just one big stretch of overheated shit."

"Bombs will do that."

"You have any brilliant plans?"

"Not really."

"And there's no way around?"

"Nope, not that I know of, this is as good as it gets."

Lerah threw her hands up and fell back on her butt. "That's it then. We're done, time to turn around and head back."

"Ah, come on, just like that? You're throwing in the towel?"

"Throwing in the towel? There are five shooters watching that bridge. Money men, right?"

"Not familiar with that term."

"It's a term we use for thieves." She shook her head, trying to get back on track. "Point is they're not Union. They aren't going to let us just mosey on up like last time."

Dominic nodded. "You've got a valid point."

"Well, thank you. This whole mission has been nothing but bad omen after bad omen: the assassins at the inn, my people at the settlement yesterday, now this. The universe is screaming in our ear. I think it's time we start paying attention. So, am I leading the retreat or are you?" She wasn't kidding.

"You call it a bad omen, but it's not, it's the Outlands. Shit happens. You just roll with it. Now, I might have an idea. It's gonna be prickly as all hell, but I think you're up to it."

"You think I'm up to it? What about what I think?"

"Well, what do you think?"

"I haven't heard the idea yet."

"Like I said, it's prickly. Let me get it all out before you make your mind up about it, okay?"

Lerah looked as if she'd already made up her mind.

Lerah walked slowly across the open range, towards the pack of shooters surrounding the mouth of the narrow bridge. Dominic had taken her jacket and weapons. Her arms were raised above her head. Her hands were tingling as the blood drained to her lower extremities. She was going faint. It wasn't the oppressive heat. It was her nerves. Her legs were limp noodles stuck in the spin cycle of a boiling pot. Her knees shifted this way and that, coming together and moving apart. Her left foot caught up on some invisible hazard and she went down hard. Her hands caught her fall, and the harsh desert landscape dug deep into her palms. She looked up, her entire body rattling with adrenaline. Three of them were approaching her, leaving the other two at the mouth of the bridge. They wore dirty blue coveralls. The tops were unbuckled, hanging down across their groins, the buckles moving back and forth at their knees. They were unwashed and unkempt, with bulging bellies and chicken chests. But they were strong men, with arms of solid muscle. They were licking their lips, flapping their jaws up and down as if they could already taste her, the inside of their mouths an assortment of rusty fish hooks. Their rifles, big and black, were loaded down with drum magazines. All three barrels were pointed in her direction. There was no retreat now. They'd chop her in half.

_Damn you, Dominic._

She pushed herself from the ground with one hand and waved the other back and forth, a broken down, roadside damsel. "Oh, thank the heavens for you, I thought I was lost out here; truly and utterly lost. You're an answer to prayer, let me tell you."

One of the men laughed. "Well, we ain't never been called that before, have we Johnny?"

The man called Johnny was gnawing at his tongue. One side of his face was a thick layer of scar tissue, as if someone had broiled him over a fire. "I ain't never heard it from something so pretty, that's for sure.' " The way _pretty_ oozed from his decrepit lips made her stomach flip-flop.

"She is choice, ain't she boys?" said the third man.

She pushed herself up to full height, hands still raised. Their rifles remained leveled at her chest, but their eyes did not. They drifted hungrily across her body, swiveling their heads, stopping more than once to drink her in as they grunted their approval to one another. She tried to ignore their lustful feasting the best she could, to keep the disgust from showing itself on her face. "I'm desperate, you see, desperate. Without your help, I fear that I and my husband will perish."

"Well, we don't want that, do we, boys?" Johnny approached her, all hips and groin, prodding her belly with the barrel of his rifle.

"Nah, not till we get ourselves a taste."

"I like your thinking."

"Coin!" Lerah blurted. "We were transporting all we had... everything we'd saved. We're just trying to make it north, away from the Union."

Johnny's tongue prodded and poked at his abscess ridden gums, she could smell his breath, a sickening cloud of decay. "How much we talking?"

"I'm thinking she might be pulling our chain, you know, so we don't make a mess of her."

"I don't reckon she'd be coming out here to us if she weren't in a pinch. Nah, I think there's probably something to her story," said the other man.

"Yeah, there's something to it, ain't no broad gonna come stumbling up to us unless she's got cause to. So, how much we talking?" Johnny lifted her chin up with the barrel of his gun.

The fear was quickly being replaced by anger. The rotten toothed bandit was stupidly close. She could disarm him, smash his windpipe, and if fate was smiling, use his weapon to gun down his friends. "Well, I never got around to counting it, sir. My husband, he handled all of that, insisted upon it. I fear that death is not far from him. Please, if you'll help me, I'll be more than happy to share some of what we have."

The crud covered pigs exchanged a snort of laughter.

Johnny ran his sausage like fingers down Lerah's stomach, pulling lightly at the waistband of her pants. "Share it with us? Oh boy, that is a hoot. Alright then, missy, you go ahead and lead the way."

Lerah turned and began moving back the way she came. The refuse pile was a blurry outline set back against a rolling landscape, void of shadow or shelter. The men behind her were whispering and snickering. They had her demise all planned out and ready to go. They made no attempt to hide their intentions.

"I'm first between her thighs, I saw her first."

"She's got three holes," one of them announced to a chorus of breathless snorting.

"Where is this man of yours, bitch? We're losin' patience back here."

"Oh, right up here, not much further to go." There was an anxious anticipation growing inside of her, carrying her words, but they didn't seem to notice. They were too busy hatching their perverse plots. The wall of rubber and debris was close, a short sprint away. Lerah got the sudden urge to run, screaming, but she leashed her nerves and pushed on, just focusing on the next step. The brutes at her back were still carrying on, trading their blood soaked, pornographic fantasies.

They never saw it coming.

"Down, down, down!"

As Lerah dove forward into the sand, Dominic popped up on the other side of the barrier, a pistol clutched in either hand. She covered the top of her head, face down in the dirt, darkness enveloping her. She felt a hot sting as expended casings bounced against the back of her hands and rolled down her neck. What felt like an eternity was over in seconds; Johnny and his crew didn't even manage to get a shot off.

"You can get up now."

Lerah turned her head sideways, peering out from the crook of her arm. She sat up on her knees. The three men were flat on their backs, now shredded hunks of bloody meat. Only Johnny was still semi-conscious. His head lolled and he gurgled something. "I'll finish him off." As Lerah reached for one of Dominic's guns something snapped past her head.

"Shooters!" Dominic pulled her down behind the barrier as a flurry of rounds whistled above them and pounded against their cover.

"There are two more of them."

"Stay here, don't come out, I've got this." He dropped both guns into her lap.

"Where are you going unarmed?"

"No need to waste our ammunition. Just stay down." He rolled across the top of the barrier before she could protest.

Lerah inched her head out, resting her cheek against one of the old tires, watching him go.

Dominic scrambled across the ground towards the three corpses, kicking up one hell of a dust storm with his knees and the toes of his boots. The two shooters were visible, but they were still a long way off, a hundred yards, maybe more. They were walking and shooting, putting on an impressive, but incredibly inaccurate, show of firepower. The bullets kicked up the earth, creating a rolling barrier of dust that worked to provide a marginal level of concealment. Dominic made it to Johnny. He ripped the rifle from his dead fingers and propped it across his bloated, bloody belly. He set one eye down the sights. He took his time, separating himself from the pandemonium; just him, his targets, and a fully loaded drum magazine. The two men were careless in their approach. They were blinded by the dust, shooting and moving without the damndest idea of what they were shooting at. They didn't see Dominic lying there, hiding amid the particles of debris, waiting for his moment. If they had seen him, Lerah was convinced they'd have slowed their charge. No sane man ran towards death, not with such vim and vigor. They were practically on top of him when they realized their mistake.

It was in their faces, their expressions.

That moment.

That stutter stop.

That feeble attempt to adjust their aim.

Too little too late.

He made short work of them. He held the trigger and let the rifle belt out its bass drum composition. He cut one of them right in half, sent his legs spinning one way and his torso spinning the other, leaving all that pink shit in between to splash down in a smelly mess.

Lerah suppressed the bile rising in the back of her throat as she came to her feet. "That was something."

"They weren't packing this kind of artillery the last time I came through here. It's gotta be left over from the war." Dominic stood, examining the smoking gun in his hands with obvious reverence.

"So, you've shot it out with them before?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I've never come through here on my own. Last time was during the war. There were more of us than them, we had more guns, they stood aside."

"Are you okay?"

He checked himself for any obvious damage. "Yeah, I think so."

"What about your wound? Did it open up?"

"Lerah—"

"Let me just have a look, you stubborn bastard."

He held his arms above his head. She rolled up his shirt and ducked in. "It looks like everything is still in place."

"I told you, I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure? I know that had to shake you up a bit."

"I can handle it." She grabbed her gear and stepped across the bodies. "We should start moving before more of them show. I imagine they heard the gunshots."

Dominic dropped the empty rifle on to Johnny's chest. "Their settlement is a long way off. They probably won't be switching shifts till after nightfall. We'll be fine."

"Either way, I don't really want to hang around a bunch of corpses."

"Fair enough."

Lerah scanned the landscape as they approached the bridge. All of Dominic's assurances proved fruitless in soothing the unease she felt. "You know, next time, you're the one that's gonna be out there shaking your ass."

Dominic laughed, "I don't think it'd have quite the same effect."

"You never know, your ass isn't half bad."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's slightly above average, at best."

He clutched his chest. "Oh, you devil, you prop me up and burn me down!"

She tried tucking away the grin on her face. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"I do, but at least now you're smiling, your chin was practically trembling before."

"Oh, bullshit, it was not."

"We're fine, Lerah, I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."

"That sounds nice and all—"

"If I'm anything, I'm a man of my word."

The ground opened up in front of them. Lerah paused a few feet away from the edge, stunned by the enormity of the abyss; it was an emergent nightmare, a ribbon tied around Satan's enormous ass. "You said bombs did this? How big was the bomb?"

Dominic strolled past her, leaning against one of the bridge posts, greeting the void like an old friend. "Not a bomb specifically, at least not according to the stories that were passed down to me. Granted, I wasn't there. But from what I heard, this thing just opened up one day, a couple decades after everything got wiped out. I guess, after all the abuse, earth was bound to say something."

Lerah scooted a little closer to the edge. She had a sudden urge to drop down to her hands and knees, to anchor her body to something. Her palms were a sweaty mess.

"Scared of heights?"

"No, I'm not scared of heights. I'm just being careful. What if this thing decides to expand with us standing here? You ever thought about that?"

"It's held steady for longer than I've been alive. That bridge is at least a century old. Our luck is bad, but I doubt it's that bad."

"Yeah, well, don't jinx it."

The abyss possessed no bottom, just an endless drop that gave way to fog and darkness. The haunting melody of a howling wind, and the distant sound of running water, rose up out of the nothingness.

"A river," Dominic said, reading her thoughts, "folks believe it draws itself off the ocean."

"Have you seen the ocean? The edge of our world?"

"I've traveled many places, but no, I haven't been there. No interest in trying to traverse the Glass Mountains."

"Surprised you haven't felt the need to visit your old friends. Don't Rebels rule the eastern shores?"

"That's the rumor."

"They say the sun never rises and the moon never sets."

"I suspect much of that is folks just talking."

"Perhaps," Lerah said with a shrug, "so are you gonna lead the way?"

"I thought ladies went first."

"I think this is one of those times where we can set formalities aside."

"Alright." Dominic stepped carelessly onto the bridge.

Lerah wanted to pull the lumbering dolt back. She stood there, wound up tighter than a bow string, waiting for him to drop through the cracks and vanish into the black fog.

"Come on, what are you waiting for?" He bounced up and down, rocking the bridge, laughing as Lerah's expression changed from concern to horror.

"Stop it! What is wrong with you? Do you want to die?"

"Come on in, the water is fine... and deep, very deep."

"Asshole!" She set a foot against the first plank, gripping the two support poles suspending the south side of the bridge. She planted herself, little by little, transferring her weight in microcosmic increments.

"Come on Lerah, if it can hold me, it can hold you."

"Shut up!"

She trembled her way to the next plank. The shadowy depths were a rictus of death, leering up at her through the spaces between each strip of wood, whispering her name, threatening to pull her down into the invisible waters below. Dominic had made it to shore. He was clapping with cryptic delight and sounding off a series of catcalls. She didn't have the voice to cuss him. She was too busy expelling muffled prayers to invisible gods. She squeezed her eyes shut, guiding herself with her hands, feeling out each shaky step with pointed toes and bent knees. The boards creaked like rusty piano keys, threatening to give out beneath the wrong note. She didn't know how far along she was. She had every intention of moving blindly, until her feet once more touched down on solid ground.

Without warning Dominic's arms closed around her waist, picked her up, and carried her through the final step. She shoved him away and boosted her pack, tightening the straps. "I'm fine."

He watched her with an amused little grin on his face. "Oh yeah, so that pale, pukey complexion you're sporting, that's a natural color for you?"

"Just... where the hell are we?"

"We're not far now. We should make Reeman before nightfall, easy."

That wasn't the answer Lerah had been expecting. It definitely wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for. She'd hoped to delay it a bit longer. There was a part of her that longed for one more night beneath the stars, entwined with Dominic, before they had to enter the lion's den. "Shit, we're closer than I thought."

"Yeah, it's not far."

"So what're we gonna do?"

"What we came out here to do, I guess."

"So, we just walk up and knock on the front gate?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Dominic answered a bit more breezily than she'd have preferred. "You ready to move out?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

They tramped up a small path between two misshapen boulders. The ground before them evened out and gave way to another flat stretch of Wasteland, drawing them ever closer to their destination.

# 30

"Man, I can't hit shit like this." Zach stared down range at the cross shaped planks of wood Jeb had nailed together behind the lockup. He had his rifle tucked under his left arm. He'd squeezed the trigger three times and had only managed to scrape one of his targets. The rest of his shots had veered wildly off course.

"You can and you will, this is just getting you used to pulling the trigger without that other hand involved. Do it again."

Zach huffed and squeezed again. Same result, the shot sailed past the intended target and buried itself in the sand. "Sonofabitch! I'm done with this shit."

Jeb gently removed the rifle from Zach's grasp. "Okay, just getting you warmed up. Let's try something else. I think you'll like it. It's gonna feel strange at first, but bear with me."

"Old man, you're pressing me."

"Shut up and roll with me on this." Jeb started maneuvering Zach around as if he were some lifeless puppet. "Cock your knees a little, lean forward. Alright, what you're gonna do is take it and press the stock back against your shoulder. Control the rifle with your cheek... yep, just like that. Aim down them sights just like you would if you was working with two hands. Brace yourself for that recoil."

Zach exhaled loudly, giving voice to his displeasure. He wrapped his finger across the trigger, preparing himself for another round of disappointment. He squeezed. He hit the target. It was low, but a hit was a hit. A shower of debris rejoiced on his behalf. Just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, Zach raised his sights a couple inches and fired again. Another burst of fragments littered the air in exultation. "Well, I'll be damned, that one would have blown the throat right out of a full grown man."

"It'd have put him down, that's for sure."

Zach froze up, the gun wagging against his shoulder, his mouth half open. All the zeal that'd built up inside him over the past sixty seconds went right out through his toes. "Ah, hell, this is useless."

"What do you mean it's useless, you just hit your marks?"

"Say we get into some shit and I go dry. How do you suppose I reload?"

"That's what you was getting your panties all in a twist about? Give me that damn thing, boy. You gotta be patient, one thing at a time. Here, let me show you." Jeb ripped the gun away and wrapped his right arm behind his back to handicap himself. "Watch me closely." He held the rifle sideways between his thighs, just above the knees, the stock going straight out in front of him. "You want to make sure you grab that magazine with your hand while holding down that release button with your thumb at the same time." The magazine came loose and fell away as if it were drenched in butter. "All you're gonna do after that is get that fresh mag and pop it home. Make sure you pull back on that charging handle while you still got the gun secure, don't ride the damned thing forward, you pull it back and then let it go, after that you're hot. Practice that enough times and you'll be as competent as any man with two hands, I guarantee." Jeb handed him back the rifle before crouching to retrieve the still partially loaded magazine.

"Guaranteed, eh?" Zach gave a little laugh and shook his head.

"I seen my daddy do it, time and time again. He was much further along in years than you. If he could adapt, so can you. It's just a matter of wanting it."

There was a shout from the front wall, "We've got outsiders approaching!"

Jeb took the rifle as Zach drew his pistol. "This should be something."

As Zach and Jeb emerged from behind the lockup there were two guards running from the gatehouse with scatterguns in tow.

"Don't you think that's overdoing it?" Zach walked up behind them as they both took a knee and squared up their barrels.

"Can't be too careful," Jeb said.

"How many of them?" Zach shouted to the solitary guard watching the front of the wall. Mother always whittled it down to a skeleton crew when there was a Fall.

"Two, man and a woman," the guard was pointing his gun over the top of the wooden rampart.

"They armed?"

"Nope, I don't see weapons. The man looks rather menacing."

"What do you mean he looks menacing?"

"I don't know, menacing, you know?"

"No, that's why I asked you. What do you mean? He doesn't seem like the hugging type? What?"

"Nah... he just looks... mean, I guess."

"Just... someone open the damn gates already."

The gates creaked and cracked, pulling the curtain back on the land beyond the walls. When Zach saw the man and woman standing there, he couldn't help but think of Micah and Susanna, the Union traitors. The man was an Outlander through and through. Life had chewed him up and shit him out. He'd been beat up and scarred up and he was still ready to go another round. The woman was a different story. Yeah, sure, she looked the part. She had the scars and the cuts. Her clothes were ragged and her fingernails were black. Her face was sand bitten and her blonde hair sat atop her head in dirty clumps. She was half the man's size, but she was all muscle and ropey blue veins, she was a little firecracker waiting to explode. It was the eyes. There was something missing. She could be Union. Zach would have to watch her.

The man raised his arms to the side and a smile cracked through his granite tough exterior. "This is probably the liveliest greeting me and my lady have gotten, and that's saying a lot considering where we just came from."

"And where might that be?" Zach asked.

"South of here, the Union has their people out stirring it up again with the rebels. Our settlement was burned right down to the fence posts."

"Don't surprise me none," Jeb said spitting into the dirt.

"Sir, we pose no threat, we're just looking to get off the road; we're running low on food and water." The woman bowed her head and brought her hands to her face as she spoke.

"Well, we ain't exactly thrilled to see strangers, you never know who you can trust out here. Fresh faces always present us with a challenge."

"I can understand your dilemma, but I can guarantee you that we're on your side."

"How you gonna guarantee that? We working off the honor system?" Zach received a few chuckles from the men with the scatter guns. It wasn't the knee slapping, belly laughs that he was used to. No one felt the need to appease him anymore.

"No, I was thinking this would do." The Outlander pulled his shirt up around his throat.

Aside from an impressive slab of muscle and some significant battle scars, there was a tattoo: a fat black chain with an anchor attached at the bottom.

"My eyes must be deceiving me. That ain't what I think it is... can't be," Jeb stuttered and pointed.

"Looks like a tattoo to me."

"That there is the mark of the Saboteurs."

"Some sort of club or something?"

"I heard the Saboteurs were all dead, strung up by the Union," one of the guards lowered his scattergun to get a closer look.

"They was supposed to be," Jeb said.

The Outlander just stood there as they fawned over him, soaking it all in. Zach felt a slight pang of jealousy. "You can drop your shirt now, chief, we all saw it. Someone wanna let me in on why I should be getting weak in the knees?"

"Boy, there's a world out there beyond these walls, and in that world the Saboteurs are legend. They gave the Union hell during the war." Jeb lowered his weapon and made his way over to the scruffy blowhard with the shitty tattoo.

Zach thought of protesting, thought of ordering the fossil to cut out the hero worship and waddle his fat ass back to his station, but he didn't have that kind of authority anymore. The men were off their scatterguns, exchanging handshakes with the two newcomers. The guard from up top was even making his way down to get in on the action.

"Alright, alright, before everyone gets all cozy, I think we need to clear up the basics with these two." Zach shoved his way into the huddle. The Outlander towered over him; Zach was staring at the top of his chest. He cleared his throat and looked to the woman instead. "You two need to know, we ain't like a regular settlement."

"Perhaps Mother should be the one to explain that." Jeb put a hand on his shoulder and Zach shook it off.

"If ya'll are wanting to stay here you need to know we got certain rules and expectations."

"Who is Mother?" the man asked.

"Never mind that, you'll meet her soon enough. You paying attention?"

"You were about to educate me on rules and expectations?"

"Yes, we ain't like the other settlements you been through. Here, we believe in a certain order. An order handed down to us by a higher power."

"So, you're religious? We had a church in our settlement. Very pleasant place, my husband and I went often." The woman took her man's arm with a dainty little smile.

"It ain't just about going to church. Everything we do is based around Scripture and the commands of the Creator. It ain't easy stuff and we take violating Scripture pretty seriously." Zach wanted to scare them off. He didn't feel like dealing with the hassle of outsiders.

"Is that what happened to you?" The man bowed his head towards Zach's bandaged hand.

He'd been concealing it at the back of his right leg, but apparently he hadn't concealed it well enough. "Come again, partner?"

"Is that what happened to you, a violation of Scripture?"

"Who do you—"

Jeb stepped in front of Zach and pushed him back with the bulk of his belly. "I think you said enough, why don't we just wait till Mother gets back, let her clear everything up. What do you say?" In reality, Jeb had done him a solid. He couldn't have gone straight up with that big bastard; he'd have been forced to shoot him to save face. Jeb returned his attention to the outsiders. "I don't think we exchanged official greetings with you folks. I'm Jeb."

"Dominic is the name."

"I'm Lerah."

Pleasantries were exchanged all around to the tune of big ass smiles and hearty handshakes. The crew was clearly impressed with this Dominic prick. It irked Zach something fierce. The pang of jealousy had evolved into a full blown throbbing.

"I'm sorry to say, but we can't have ya'll wandering around the place till you're cleared by Mother. If you're wanting to stay here, you'll have to wait it out in lock up till she gets back."

"It seems pretty deserted here."

"Most folks are out with Mother."

"What could possibly carry them from such a secure place?" Dominic signaled to the guns and surrounding walls.

He was a little too curious for his own good.

"You never mind that," Jeb placed a hand on Dominic's back. "Follow me over to the lockup. We're gonna have to search you. After that we'll bring ya'll some food and drink."

"That sounds good to me. What do you say, dear?"

"Delightful," Lerah's voice was a perky little twinkle.

As Jeb led them towards the lockup he started in on some damned story about the war and his daddy's lost hand.

"They seem like good folks." The guard from the top of the wall had snuck up behind Zach.

Zach turned and grabbed his rifle. "Give me that damn thing."

"Hey! What the hell am I supposed to use?"

Zach let the throbbing in his head drown out the angry protests of the guard, as he marched with renewed determination towards Jeb's makeshift gun range.

# 31

It'd been business as usual at the Scar; another successful Fall. The roar of the bloodthirsty mob had done its job, drowning out the heartache of broken parents as they watched their children stripped naked and butchered and pushed to their deaths.

Blake had watched the ugly thing take place. He'd stood obediently at the front of the crowd as Mother had instructed. By the time Colton's body had disappeared over the edge, Blake felt ready to explode. Not in some violent display of righteous anger—he was beyond the illusion that he possessed the skills or resolve to carry out such an action—no, it was that lead ball pounding the walls of his stomach like some hyperactive pendulum, building up a sickening energy that threatened to tear him apart at the seams. It was there, just at the back of his throat, ready to pitch him forward and send him grappling for his knees. He raised his chin and forced the sour brew back down into the cauldron. It was over now—the ugliness—he just had to convince his body of what his mind already knew.

Mother stood at the edge of the Scar, spackled with blood, Toby off to one side, three guards standing between her and a flood of fanatical devotion. She waved her hands above her head ostentatiously, one of them still clutching her infamous dagger, bits of Kati's bowels still clinging to the blade.

"Evil! You're all evil! Curse you Mother, you duplicitous self-serving whore! You and your creator can burn in hell for all I care! I want my Colton back! I want him back!" Colton's mother, Sheila, ping-ponged to the front of the crowd as her lungs crackled with fury. She stomped past Blake and stood toe-to-toe with the three guards. She was arched forward at the waist, tears streamed down her face as she waved her hands wildly to a chorus of boos. "You're all sheep! Sheep! Wait till it happens to your kid!" she screamed back over her shoulder.

"Our kids know right from wrong!"

"We raised them right!"

Terrence broke from the crowd, using Blake as a turnstile. He wrapped his arms around his wife, whispering earnestly in her ear, but whatever he was saying didn't seem to be having the desired effect. As Terrence tried to pull her back she kicked at the guards, big dramatic bicycle kicks. They laughed and stepped back a pace. "Mother, I'm sorry about this, she's just taking it hard. Come on honey, please, you're going to make it worse for us." Terrence pulled harder, but she wasn't budging, for every inch he gained, she took two.

Mother watched the scene with impassivity. Her hands were folded delicately at her waist, still holding firm to the knife. She started moving forward, little steps. She stopped just behind her guards and observed the display of outrage. She didn't flinch against the tidal wave of spit and profanity. After a considerable length of time Mother raised her right hand and the scorn of the crowd fell silent, leaving only the emotional swell of Sheila's voice to fill the air.

"Children of Reeman, what you're witnessing right now is the outrage of a parent at the loss of their child. What you're witnessing right now is pain and grieving. We've all been there before, haven't we? Not all of us have lost children, but we've all lost, haven't we? We live in a time of perpetual pain and grieving. A time of punishment brought upon us by the sins of those that came before. Is it fair that we suffer for something we didn't do?"

There was apprehensive murmuring as the flock tried to figure out the desired answer.

"Don't be afraid, it's not a trick question," she laughed. "Of course it's not fair, not by our understanding. Yet, we suffer, whether it's fair or not. But our future, our very survival, depends upon our ability to find meaning in the suffering."

Sheila had begun to quiet down, probably from exhaustion. Terrence had managed to move her back from the line of guards. She was still cursing Mother's name between panting breaths and throwing the occasional sloppy kick.

"As Mrs. Otterman was standing here making a spectacle, our Creator was bestowing upon me a grand revelation. He has instructed me to share it with you, His children. What you do with it is up to you."

"We're ready to receive, Mother!"

She pushed through her line of guards, ignoring the sight of Terrence and his bucking bride, using the tip of the knife to dictate her syllables. "In times of sadness, what is it that separates those that grieve and those that dance?" Her eyes searched their faces, the enthusiastic teacher seeking a prized pupil. "Anyone care to venture a guess? There's no wrong answer. We're learning together."

"Trusting in the creator?"

"Obedience?"

"How about praising and thanking Him for all things?"

Blake could hardly stomach the sound of the simpletons clawing at the shallow recesses of their minds.

_Had the Wastes really been so bad?_

Mother acknowledged each of their belched guesses with small nods and a patronizing smile. "All of you are so close; you're just skirting the edge of it. The thing that separates the dancers and the grievers is Scripture, plain and simple. If you truly believe what's written in those pages, there is no reason to demonstrate the sort of behavior that Mrs. Otterman did today. You know why? Because you know His will has been done. Sure, it's normal to shed a few tears, to miss our departed. But what Mrs. Otterman is doing is sewing division. She doesn't see the Fall as an extension of Scripture. She sees it as an aggression towards her and her family. She has shown herself, on this day, to be a nonbeliever. She's only a believer when it's convenient. She's a believer of seasons, sometimes she's hot and sometimes she's cold. The Creator wants to bless us. He demonstrated this to us yesterday when the rains fell. He demonstrated this to us when he brought forth new life among our people. Do you doubt His desire to bless us?"

"No!"

"Nope!"

"Neither do I, neither do I. But if there is division within our ranks, if we're not united under a single banner, speaking a single truth, then I fear our Father will turn his back on us."

A hush fell over the crowd as they chewed her words.

"Now, I'm not telling you what to do. Yes, I am your Mother. Yes, the Father depends on me to dictate His will. But this is a test. This is a test to see if you, His people, are willing to act, not for His sake, not for my sake, but for your own sake. What's it going to be?"

It seemed that Blake wasn't the only one that'd grown wise to Mother's endgame. Terrence held his wife close and turned on the encroaching mob, every fiber of his being intent on defending her. "Stay back or I'll kill you, I swear it!"

The flock wasn't dissuaded by Terrence's empty threats, they flowed around Blake, their arms extended like they were feeling their way through a darkened room.

"Hold it!" Mother stepped between Terrence and his assailants. "I don't want this to be a feeding frenzy. There's no reason for this to be messy. This can be carried out with order and dignity. Guards," Mother signaled to the men in the back, "bring me Mr. and Mrs. Zulma."

"What did we do? Wait, let go of my wife!" Kati's father, Robert, could be heard scuffling with the guards. He appeared at the front of the crowd, alongside his wife, Belinda. They were shoved before Mother, Robert rubbing at his arm in anguish. "I don't understand the meaning of this? My wife and I have done nothing to warrant being treated this way."

"No one is accusing you of anything, Mr. Zulma, quite the opposite. What I'm going to ask you to do is prove your faith."

"Prove my faith? I believe the composure we've shown has more than demonstrated our faith and devotion."

"You're friends with the Otterman family, yes?"

"We've grown close over the past few months."

"So, friends?"

"Yes, I guess you could say that." Robert was checking his sightlines, practically wetting himself as he tried to track the movement of the crowd.

"I'm afraid your association with them, along with the untimely departure of your daughter, has left you and your wife under a bit of scrutiny. We do not need any division within our community. We need a clear line of communication with our Father. So, in order for us to be sure about the content of your heart, we need to conduct a test of faith."

Sheila was wailing, her arms around her husband's waist, her head buried against his crotch; it was a rather crude sight.

"What sort of test are we talking here?"

"Kill them. Kill your friends."

Terrence shook his head as if he were trying to clarify what he'd just heard. "No, listen, she's just upset. We're with you Mother, we are followers of Scripture. We believe, we do, please, it's just been—"

"On your knees," Mother was firm, but not loud.

"But Mother—"

Mother snapped her fingers. Two guards seized Terrence and Sheila and began forcing their compliance. When Terrence resisted he was clubbed across the side of the head with a rifle butt. Sheila began sobbing and tried to come up to her knees, a round was chambered and a barrel was pressed against the side of her skull, guiding her back down beside Terrence.

Blake wanted to intervene. He wanted to play the hero. He wanted to pull Terrence and his, admittedly foolish, wife from the fire. But he was a coward, a man without skill or resolve. He was too damned selfish to step in. He had things to live for, two things, and they were waiting at home for his return.

_Judith. Riley. I do it for them._

"Take this," Mother ripped a rifle from one of the guards and pressed it to his chest.

"I don't... I've never really shot one."

"You aim and pull the trigger. Take it."

"But I don't—"

Mother was quick with the blade. She slashed Belinda's face.

"No, sweetheart!" Robert went to turn but was twisted back into place by a strong set of hands.

"She's fine, face wounds tend to bleed a lot. It looks much worse than it is. But if you question me again, I'll put a hobble in her step."

Robert looked around, as if weighing some invisible set of options. As far as Blake could see he only had two; pull the trigger or don't.

"Toby, if he hesitates further, put a round in her kneecap," Mother instructed flatly.

"Uh, which one?"

She sighed. "Pick whichever one you'd like."

Terrence was starting to regain his wits. He hovered protectively over Sheila. There was blood coming off his face, collecting around the bottom of his chin and dripping against her back. He looked up and saw the gun. He smiled and nodded, accepting his fate. "You do what you've gotta do. Please, just make it quick. She's suffered enough." Terrence buried his face in the nape of his wife's neck. They sat their holding each other, rocking back and forth; bloody, filthy, despised by the masses, but alone and full in their embrace.

"Pull the trigger, Mr. Zulma." Mother leaned in and pressed the tip of the knife against his cheekbone. "Pull the trigger, or your wife pays the price for your hesitance."

The crowd began to recite the phrase, "Pull the trigger! Pull the trigger! Pull the trigger!"

Robert screamed and closed his eyes as his finger coiled around the smooth surface of the curved metal. The gun coughed to life in his hands. The seconds felt like minutes as the expended shell casings gathered in a small pile on the ground, rolling across one another like the tiniest chimes being played by the gentlest breeze. With each new bullet that erupted from the barrel the form of the entangled lovers was slowly whittled down to a messy, pink pile of formless matter.

Blake felt a stiff elbow nudge him in the side. "Gees, you ever see anything like that, Doc? What a mess."

Blake just shrugged and shook his head.

Mother removed the smoking gun from Robert's shaky grasp. He crumpled to the ground beside his wife. His mouth was frozen open. His eyes were searching the pile of human debris, as if he were mentally trying to reconstruct the two bodies he'd just destroyed.

"You did well." Mother patted his head gently. He'd become just another one of her dogs.

"I don't think Doc is too happy," Toby snorted with laughter.

Blake's face must have reflected what he felt inside: nothing. "I'm fine, just tired from the heat is all."

"Toby, you worry about cleaning up this mess. Get two of the men to help you. I don't want it stinking out here."

Toby tapped the two guards closest to him. They approached the corpses with befuddled expressions, not really sure where to begin.

Many in the crowd shoved forward, trying to get a better view of the carnage. Some even escorted their children to the front of the line, as if using the horrific image to drive home some twisted morality tale.

"Alright everyone, you can begin heading back. His will has been done. Let His blessings be ever at your back."

"And yours, Mother," the crowd recited in unison.

Blake took one last look at the mangled bodies. In that final glance, it wasn't horror or pity that overcame him. No, it was an odd sense of jealousy. They'd escaped Reeman. They'd escaped Mother and Toby and the damnable Scriptures. They were free.

# 32

The office was rather sparse. There was a desk populated with loose papers and a cup of writing utensils. Behind that, on the wall, hung a rather hideous looking drawing; the rest of the walls were bare. There was a well worn chair and a single shuttered window with a metal chalice and a thick book sitting on the sill.

Toby stood behind them, so close that Dominic could hear his bowels churning.

"Do you always keep it this dark in here?" Dominic asked, trying to make conversation.

Toby didn't bite. He just lingered. He sucked a ball of phlegm into the back of his throat. For a second Dominic thought he was going to expel it on to the floor at his feet. But he didn't. He just kept it there on his tongue like a fine wine.

"Who did the drawing over there?" He refused to give up on getting the bastard to loosen his lips.

Nothing.

The door sprang open just as Dominic was devising his next plan of verbal attack.

It was Mother, clad in a set of snow white robes. A perfumed breeze rolled in behind her. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I trust my son proved to be pleasant company."

"He's a real people person," Dominic said with a toothy grin.

Lerah whacked him in the ankle with the side of her foot.

"Well I'm glad to hear it. Toby, I want you to wait outside. I need to converse with our guests. I'll call you if I need you."

"I'll be right outside these doors."

Dominic recognized the vaguely shrouded threat.

Mother stood behind her desk and fanned through a stack of papers. After a minute or so of fruitless shuffling, she took her seat. She interlocked her fingers and granted them a jittery smile. "So, what brings you to Reeman?"

Dominic and Lerah looked at each other and smiled.

"You want to take this one, honey?" Lerah asked.

"You always tell the story better than I do."

"Oh no, you're too sweet, you're definitely the better storyteller."

The jousting couple routine, it was a bit they'd worked on during their walk up to the front gates. It'd been Lerah's brainchild.

"Okay, sweetheart, if you insist."

"I insist," Mother interjected, doing a poor job of concealing her sparkling fuse.

"Apologies, ma'am—"

"Mother, please, call me Mother."

"Mother, absolutely, my apologies for the delay, I'm sure you're busy."

"I am, so please, get on with it."

Dominic cleared his throat. "Well, as we told your guards, our settlement was destroyed by the Union. We started north because we didn't know where else to go. The Wastes pretty much picked us apart. We eventually found our way here."

"And we're so thankful too, my gosh, you have no idea what a blessing it was to see your settlement. It's beautiful, by the way." Lerah leaned forward, a hand pressed flat against her chest, speaking in high pitched, breathy tones.

Dominic almost didn't recognize her beneath the ruse.

"Well, thank you dear. We do take pride in what we have. Now, you say it was the Union that attacked you? Why did they attack you?" Mother narrowed her baggy eyes. She was a harder nut to crack than her men had been. This wasn't casual pondering, this was an interrogation.

Dominic cleared his throat, sat back, and propped one foot across his knee. "After they invaded they held us as prisoners. They questioned us, hard. They kept going on about the Rebels and a chest of coin they lost."

"A chest of coin?"

"Yeah, they kept us locked up in the main hall for a full day before they lost their patience and started burning stuff and shooting people. I overheard them talking about some plan to buy up settlements that had sided with the Rebels during the war. They want everyone under the Union flag."

"Hm," Mother stood and walked to the window, "that sounds like the Union I know."

"Their reach extends to these parts? And here I thought we'd escaped their clutches." Lerah grabbed Dominic's arm, feigning distress.

"They extended a similar offer to us. But here, in Reeman, we've no use for their currency. And we don't find our freedom in flags or puppet rulers; we find our freedom in the embrace of the Creator." Her fingers stroked the cover of the book sitting on the window sill.

"I imagine it's a much more comfortable embrace than the one offered by the Union." Dominic meant it; he'd take the invisible embrace of a figure in the sky over the shackles of the Union any damn day of the week.

Mother sipped from the chalice and gave a satisfied smack of her lips. "The hypocrisy of the Union is a subject for lengthy discussion. Take our settlement, for example. The Union came to us with their chests of coin. They claimed to be offering us freedom. They threatened us with fire and death if we didn't accept their terms. Is that freedom? Everyone in Reeman is here because they chose to be here. Take you and your woman. Did anyone force you through those gates? Were you forced into those seats? Right now, if you wanted to, you could walk out that door and return from whence you came; no one would stop you. Is that not true freedom? The Union doesn't want freedom. They want control. Well, the people of Reeman aren't going to give it to them."

Dominic had to admit, the woman made sense. "When the element of choice is removed, it's no longer freedom."

"When you say they threatened you, what do you mean? Did they send their armies?" Lerah was being a bit too forward.

Mother sipped from the chalice and stared blankly through the cracks in the shutters. "Not exactly, but it's not something I wish to discuss. That matter has been settled."

"So, we'll be safe if we stay here?" Lerah continued.

Mother turned, holding the chalice against her chest. "That depends on if you stay here. That decision rests with me, not you."

"Your men mentioned as much," Dominic replied.

"We're not your normal settlement."

"That's obvious. I don't believe I've ever seen a settlement with the sort of defenses ya'll have in place; not since the war anyway."

"Yes, they told me that you fought against the Union. A special unit, the name escapes me."

"The Saboteurs, ma'am."

"Mother, please, call me Mother."

"Sorry, I'll have to get used to that."

"They mentioned a tattoo. May I see it?"

Dominic looked to Lerah; a husband seeking the permission of his wife.

"Go ahead, dear. He's so shy," Lerah said, with a flick of her wrist.

Dominic stood and raised his shirt. "You'll have to excuse the mess. This body has experienced its fair share of heartache."

Mother cracked the shutters. Thin sheets of yellow light slipped into the room. She leaned forward, surveying the ruins of Dominic's torso. "It's a crude etching, I must say."

"It was drawn by crude men, using crude tools."

"It does appear that you've seen your fair share of bumps and bruises. That one looks rather fresh," Mother was referring to Lerah's patchwork job.

"As it should, I received it from the Union a few days back."

Mother stared quietly for a few more seconds, biting at her top lip. "Okay, I've seen enough."

He dropped his shirt and sank back into his chair.

"I admire you, both of you, for standing against the Union. I believe you would both be assets to this community, it's just a matter of whether you believe you have the ability to assimilate to our way of life."

"I suppose we won't really know until you tell us about your way of life."

Mother held up a finger. "I'm getting to that, dear."

"Perhaps we could get a drink of whatever you're nursing? It's been a long road, as you can probably imagine."

"I'm afraid not, this is exclusive, and there isn't much left."

"Oh, well, I can fix that. That's just grain alcohol; I can smell it from here. That stuff was my daddy's constant companion. I learned to make it simply by watching him."

"There's a little more to it than that, this was a supernatural gift."

"I'm telling you, Mother, just give me a barrel—" The familiar blade of Lerah's boot digging into his ankle cut him off. "But if it's supernatural, yeah, I can't really do much there."

"No, you can't," she said, staring at him over the top of the chalice. "So, are you two married?"

"We are!" Lerah shrieked. "It's still pretty new. We were only married a month before the Union took our home from us."

"That is unfortunate. His ways are beyond our comprehension, and often times, they're for our own good. Sometimes we have to travel the harsh roads. It's only when we get to the end that we're able to look back and see the purpose in all of it."

Lerah pouted up at Dominic with glassy eyes. "Aw, that's so beautiful. Honey, did you hear that?"

"Yes I did, I'm sitting right here."

"Do you not believe it, Dominic?" Mother asked.

"It's just hard to see it right now, like you said; we haven't really gotten that far down the road."

Mother nodded. "Understandable, but give it time." She placed the chalice back on the sill and removed the book. She opened it and began fanning through its yellow pages. "No kids, I'm assuming?"

Lerah shook her head. "No, we don't have any little ones."

"Are you actively trying?"

"Well," Dominic cleared his throat, "you know, being on the road, it wasn't really an ideal time. We've consummated our marriage, if that's what you're asking."

"We just want to be in a place where we can bring a family up safe." Lerah and Dominic intertwined fingers and exchanged glances of silent agreement.

"It sounds like you want to multiply. That's good, that's fantastic." Mother smiled, staring into the recesses of the book, her hand shaking with each turn of the page. "That is one of our core tenets; multiplication."

Lerah nodded. "Reeman sounds like a good fit. We'd love to start a family, right honey?"

"Absolutely," Dominic had a hard time matching her enthusiasm, but it wasn't for a lack of trying.

"I want to read to you from the Gospel of Multiplication. This scripture is at the very core of what we believe. When I'm finished, you can decide whether you'd like to stay or go."

"Sounds good."

"All ears."

"This comes from the book of Syr, it's the second verse of the Third Lament: _Verily, I shall set a curse upon your house. You have turned your eyes to the low places. I shall cleanse thee with fire and with ash. The curse I have wrought forth shall be upon your heads and your children's heads and their children's heads. Yea, only the righteous shall endure. It shall be upon them to multiply and replenish the grounds from whence my judgment came. He that fails to multiply, that fails to put his hands to good use, does not find favor with the Creator, for they are not worthy of the Kingdom. Preserve your righteousness and strike the cursed from among your ranks, for it is the righteous that endure. Selah."_ Mother closed the book with a solemn sigh and held it at her waist, obviously waiting for some sort of reaction.

It was all noise to Dominic, the babbling of a newborn babe, each sound as indecipherable as the next. He looked to Lerah and could see that she didn't retain anymore of it than he had. "You'll have to excuse us. I guess they had a different book in our church."

"There are many false gospels and many false teachers. They spread fallacious ideas and turn the eyes of the people away from the one true Creator."

"Ah, that was definitely our church then." Dominic did his best to sound disappointed. "If it wouldn't be too much, can you explain what all of that meant?"

"The scripture?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid the wife and I have never been much when it comes to interpreting Scripture, false or otherwise."

"In the interest of being blunt, it means multiply or else."

"Or else what?"

"Yeah, what happens if we don't multiply? That sounds like a lot of pressure." Lerah gave an uncomfortable laugh. Dominic could feel the beads of sweat breaking out against her palm.

"You need to understand, multiplication is a life or death scenario in Reeman. If you decide to stay, there is no leaving. Once you make your covenant before the Creator it cannot be broken. We live beneath the Curse, the same Curse that brought the fires down upon the old world. But multiplication is not your only option. You can choose to live separately from one another, celibate, and dedicate your lives to multiplying our little settlement through labor. Stay, leave, multiply, or don't; in the end, the choice is yours. You have freedom here, no matter what the Union may say." Mother set the book back on the sill and returned to her desk.

"What do you think, honey?" Lerah asked, giving Dominic's hand a little shake.

"Well, it's a lot of information. I know I've got no interest in being separated from my lady."

"That's admirable, Dominic, very admirable. I've seen some men come through here that, in the interest of preserving their own skin, chose the path of celibacy; they dropped their woman without a second thought. They were men without faith." She slapped at her desk and created a small burst of air that sent some of her papers swirling to the floor. "Oh, great, just... Toby! Toby! Get in here boy!"

"I can get that for you."

Mother flapped her hand like a broken wing. "No, let my son serve a purpose for once."

Toby rushed into the room with his gun at the ready, prepared to do battle. "Mother, are you okay?"

Dominic could smell the layers of dirt and sweat wafting from Toby's gelatinous gut as it hovered near his face.

"Oh, calm down boy. Pick those papers up and then leave."

He sat his weapon up by the door and dove to his knees, scooping the papers up like a vagrant lapping the breadcrumbs from a tavern floor. It was obvious that Toby was used to playing the role of the footstool; he was all duty and no shame.

"Will there be anything else, Mother?" Toby aligned the stack of parchment and placed it delicately on the desk.

"You may go."

"Yes, Mother."

Once Toby had exited, Mother continued. "So, it's time to choose. Will you be staying here with us in Reeman?"

Dominic looked at Lerah. She was pinching her tongue between her front teeth and had managed to forge a ridiculous grin. She was a sly devil, no doubt about it. She nodded eagerly at him and he sighed as if his arm was being twisted on the matter. "I suppose we are. Do we sign something with our blood?" He was only half joking.

"Around here, your word is your bond. There are a few things that you're going to have to do. First and foremost, you're going to need to renew your covenant before the eyes of our Father."

"Get married, again?" Dominic asked.

"In Reeman, your union is not recognized until you've committed yourselves before Him."

"Oh, I love it!" Lerah kissed his cheek and he felt himself flush a little.

"It's nothing elaborate." Mother seemed to be trying to temper Lerah's expectations. "Just a few words are exchanged. It's the meaning behind the words that matter."

"When do we do it?"

"You'll do it tonight."

"Good, she won't have time to grow cold feet."

Lerah smacked him gently on the arm and then laid her head against his shoulder, emitting a sigh of contentment.

"You'll both need to be examined by Doctor Scroggins."

"Examined?" Lerah crinkled her nose.

"Yes, to ensure that you're able to conceive. That way, if you come up barren, we know whether it's the Curse or not."

"That makes sense, I guess."

"It's invasive, but I promise you, Doctor Scroggins is a professional."

_Invasive_ , Dominic didn't like the sound of that.

"Well, if you have no more questions or concerns then feel free to show yourselves out."

"I'm good. Honey, do you have anything else to say?"

Dominic shook his head. "Nope, I think that pretty much does it for me."

"Okay, Dominic and Lerah, welcome to Reeman."

# 33

The whole damned plan was falling down around his ears. It was like some wild beast, squirming for freedom, refusing to be tamed. He'd lost control and unleashed it upon the world, his world. He had to contain it, had to get it back in its cage.

Best strategy? Face it head on.

Dan found the Lord Marshal having lunch at Pepper's Pub. He was propped up on one of the lonely barstools making quick work of a pork sandwich. He always took a late lunch, it ensured a minimal crowd. His usual contingent of guards were scattered about the room, wearing their brown berets and their gloomy expressions. They knew Dan, knew him as a friend to Hause, and therefore didn't react when he came bursting through the doors.

"We've got to talk." Dan swung a stool out from under the bar and sat facing Hause, still breathing heavy from running the stairs.

"Can it not wait till I've finished my lunch? This is a hell of a sandwich. Have one, on me."

"I'm not hungry. And no, it can't wait; you're going to want to hear this."

Hause pushed his plate away and scrubbed his fingers clean on a crumb covered napkin. "This is a damn good sandwich, Dan. Make it worth my while."

"You're not going to be happy."

"So you're here to ruin my appetite?"

"No, it's not that—"

"Come on, I'd rather get it over with."

"Perkins, all of his men, everyone we sent out, they're dead."

Hause gripped the bar counter to keep himself steady. "Did you say everyone? All of our men?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

Hause jumped from his stool, lifted it by the seat, and pitched it across the top of the bar, shattering the recently installed mirror. Gerrad, the newly appointed bartender, dove for cover as shards of glass poured down around him. The few patrons present didn't know whether to continue their meals or run. Hause helped them decide. "Get out! Everyone, out, now! Last one to the door gets a two week stay in the dungeons!"

Dan waited for a break in the thunder before speaking again. "I'm afraid there's more."

Hause dropped his forehead against the edge of the bar. "Those damned Rebels just had to force my hand." He pushed himself up and gripped the scarred wood, his fingernails white from the pressure.

"It wasn't the Rebels."

"Wasn't the Rebels? What do you mean it wasn't the Rebels? Who was it then?"

"Um... well... our men attacked a settlement."

"So? What's your point?"

"Well, they were apparently going pretty hard on the folks there. A man and a woman came along and got involved. Things got out of hand. The man, he was a big guy. He had long black hair and a scar on his face. He moved like a ghost, no one could touch him."

"You're not saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid I am saying what you're thinking. It sounds like it was Dominic and Lerah."

Hause grabbed Dan by the collar of his shirt and twisted, bringing him up to the tips of his toes. "Who told you this?"

Dan raised his hands in surrender, trying to maintain composure. "Some of the settlers. When we didn't hear anything back from Perkins, we sent out a small scout team. Our men found some of them in the area. They grabbed them and brought them back here. They're pretty banged up." If it hadn't been for the scout team talking to the settlers first, Dan could have kept the news about Dominic and Lerah under wraps. He could have passed it off as more Rebel shenanigans. He could have gotten the green light for a full blown military incursion into the Outlands and the defense funding to go along with it. But as it stood, there were more hands in the pot than he was comfortable with. Better to just come clean with it and try to turn it in his favor along the way.

"So Lerah and Dominic have turned on us? What the fuck is going on, Dan?"

"Look, they didn't know what was going on. What do you think it looked like to them? I hear our boys got pretty bloody. Dominic is an Outlander, first and foremost. Who do you think he's going to defend in that situation? And Lerah, well, she's idealistic, always has been. In her mind she was probably just helping the helpless."

"Idealist or not, she killed her brothers in arms. She killed one of our finest Captains. Your daughter is a traitor and I'll see her—"

"Hey now, hang on there, old friend. I know you're upset, but I want you to think first, okay? There's no telling what influence that Outlander is having on her. She's alone out there, secluded from the things we have going on up here. Do you think she knows about the attack on our men? The stolen coin? No, all she knows is that she walked up on a group of our guys ransacking a settlement. That's it. What do you think we'd do in the same situation?"

"Killing my own for the sake of some Outland peasants? Don't insult me, Dan."

"Okay, fine, but that's not Lerah. What is it you teach them in the academy?"

Hause's grip only tightened at the question.

"To protect the innocent, right? You never placed a qualifier on that. From the time they can walk we're instilling in them the virtues of the Union."

"Yes, but we expect them to be smart enough to read between the lines."

"Not Lerah, she's smart, but she's idealistic. When you told her to go forth and protect the innocent, she did just that. You can't really be mad at her."

Hause released him. "They should have never crossed paths."

"It was an unfortunate accident, to say the least."

"How many settlers did our men bring back?"

"A half dozen or so. I haven't been down myself."

Hause nodded and took him around the shoulders. "I'd very much like to see them."

When Hause recruited Loviatar on their way down to the dungeon, Dan knew that it wasn't going to be just a casual chit-chat. He let Loviatar walk ahead and fill the gap between him and Hause. He didn't feel comfortable having the beast at his back. Loviatar was wearing his usual black robes and leather hood. The only things that hinted at the appearance of the man beneath were the pulsing blood shot eyes and the enormous pink hands gripping the hammer. He smelled like rotten meat. The robes and the mask never came off. They just remained glued to his hulking body, collecting the blood, shit, and tears of the countless lives he'd, quite literally, crushed.

They were moving quickly through a narrow stone hall. Burning torches were intermittently bolted to the damp walls. There were single occupancy cells cut out of the walls on either side of them. They ran up and down the full length of the hall, thick iron doors keeping the accused locked away beneath a shroud of heavy darkness. Their only access to the outside world was a small square cut out of the top of the door, with three bars running vertically across their field of view. Through that square flowed their lifeblood: pieces of rotten food, meager rations of water, and the occasional glimpse of another human being. The rest of their existence was spent circling the darkness, sleeping curled up on straw mats, and evacuating their bowels into rusty pales.

The main holding cell rested at the end of the long hallway, a cold room, lit by a single torch, made up of damp cement and iron shackles that dangled from the ceiling, a place where the accused awaited their final judgment: confinement or death. Outside of the holding cell sat Buddy, a simpleton, permanently assigned to dungeon duty. He was slumped back in a rickety wooden chair, his hairy potbelly on full display beneath an open leather vest, picking at the scabs on his bony arms. When he caught sight of Hause he jumped to attention. "Lord Marshal Hause, sir!"

"Yeah, yeah, you degenerate, open the door."

"Yes, sir!" The ring of keys on Buddy's waist appeared to be an unsolvable puzzle, just a cluster of cloned metal. Buddy's years of navigating the tangled web seemed to have left him with a special sort of instinct, he selected the correct key from the cluster without ever taking his eyes off the door. With a quick twist, the lock was released and their patchwork party was led inside. "I'll be out here if ya'll need me." Buddy shuffled back out into the hall, pulling the door along with him.

Hause removed the torch from the wall and held it high above his head. There were five settlers suspended from the ceiling; three men and two women, iron shackles locked tight around their wrists. One of the men was out cold, his head dangled as if he were some toddler that had passed out in the middle of playtime.

"Loviatar, wake him up."

Loviatar shoved past the dangling settlers, sending them swinging like fleshy wind chimes caught up in a harsh breeze. When he reached the unconscious settler he flipped his mighty hammer around and sent the bottom of the handle crashing into the side of his face.

Dan heard the bones break.

The man woke up screaming. He shook against the chains violently. He was swinging up off the ground, trying to press his face to his shoulder in an attempt to subdue the pain.

Loviatar retook his place beside Hause, dragging his hammer across the floor like some blind demon scuttling his way through the bowels of hell.

Hause approached the man closest to him and grabbed him by the chin, illuminating his face with the torch. "What's your name, Outlander?"

"Alan... they call me Alan?" Alan's voice sounded like a weak cough. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

"Do you know who I am, Alan?"

Alan's nod barely registered.

"Go on, tell me, who am I?"

"The Lord Marshal."

"I'm assuming my reputation precedes me?"

"I don't know much about that, sir. I just push dirt and try my best to take care of my family." Tears began to form at the corners of Alan's eyes.

Hause yanked his hand to safety before the fluid could make contact with his skin. "Why are you crying? Do I scare you, Alan? Do you have a reason to be scared?"

A switch seemed to flip inside of the young settler. "I'm not scared, Lord Marshal. I'm not scared of you or the Union or that creature standing behind you. Your men killed my wife. They killed my child."

Hause nodded. "Well that is unfortunate, but I assure you, that's not the reason they were sent to your settlement."

"They came in shooting!" Alan yelled before breaking off into a hacking cough. "They didn't ask questions. They," Alan was working to catch his breath and calm his speech, "just burned everything. People were being shot and beaten, they were butchers. Then that man and that woman came along, they saved those of us that were still alive."

"Tell me about them."

"I don't remember much." Alan lowered his head. The spark that had surged through him moments ago had gone just as quickly. "He was a big guy. He seemed angry. The woman, it was like she was in control of the situation. It seemed like she knew the guy that was leading your troops."

"Perkins?"

"Sounds like his name. I'm not sure. The guy ran off at one point. After that she and Perkins got into a scuffle. She got the better of him. I didn't stick around to see what happened next."

"Dominic and Lerah, sound familiar?"

"What?"

"The man and woman that came to your rescue, did you happen to catch their names?"

"I don't remember. I haven't eaten. I haven't slept. I barely remember my own name."

"Uh-huh, okay," Hause backhanded Alan across the mouth and yanked his head back by the hair, "where is my coin, you sniveling peasant?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

Hause held the flame against Alan's shackled hands.

Alan let out a tremendous note of pain, trying to twist himself free from the scorching tentacles as the flesh began to sizzle and melt away.

"What do you know about the Rebels and my coin? You want the pain to stop, Alan? Then you better start talking!"

"I don't... I don't... pleasestopplease!"

"He doesn't know anything about the Rebels, or your coin, you Union dog!" The voice was wet and crunchy. It emanated from the back of the room, bouncing across the walls and ceiling.

Hause sought out the voice, parting the darkness before him with the torch.

Loviatar scuffled along after him, dragging his hammer.

Dan hung back, ever the spectator.

The source of the voice was a young man with pockmarked cheeks and curly blonde hair. He was pulling against his shackles, as if he expected that any moment would bring him the strength necessary to break free of their embrace. The sight of Hause and the monster only seemed to strengthen his resolve.

"You're a lively one." Hause remained just beyond his reach. "What's your name?"

"Chad, you'll remember it after I carve it into your chest!"

Loviatar readied his hammer, waiting for the command.

Hause clapped his hands together. "I think you're just the man I'm looking for. Tell me, Chad, what do you know about the Rebels and my coin?"

"You hide behind your metal and glass and guns, you coward! Remove your men and then remove these chains, then we'll get to the heart of things."

Hause waved the torch in front of Chad's face. "Do you want to taste the flames as well?"

"There's not anything you can do to me—"

Hause popped him in the nose. It wasn't a head twister. It was just a quick jab, in and out. Enough to get the blood flowing. "I've been at this a lot longer than you. I've cracked the hardest shells. You're not above the pain. You're a dirt farmer with a gun, fighting for a cause that's already lost. Tell me about the Rebels and my coin."

Chad let loose with a defiant laugh. "When will you get it? We do not want the wares you're peddling. We don't want your rules, your laws, or your way of life. We will not be subjected to your corrupt leadership. We will not be cogs in your military machine. You want to rule everything and everyone. I'm here to tell you, Lord Marshal Hause, the Outland will never be ruled by you. The Rebels are strong. We're in every settlement across this land and we're just waiting for our time to strike. So, do whatever you've got to do. I'm just a single petal in the midst of an enormous bloom. Your time will soon be at an end." Chad swallowed a mouthful of blood and smiled, red teeth glinting in the flickering darkness. "You'll never find your coin."

Hause stood frozen by the icy wind of open defiance. The slack went out of his fingers. His shoulders drooped until they formed a fine v-shape. Even his breathing seemed to stop.

Dan had never seen anyone talk to Hause in such a manner, at least not anyone that was still walking under their own power.

Hause's right hand began shaking. It moved gradually up his thigh, across his hip, in a straight line towards the butt of his pistol.

Dan saw what was coming and plugged his ears.

Hause was meticulous and cruel in his shot placement. The first bullet took off Chad's left knee cap, the second took off the front portion of his right foot, and the third went into his groin.

Chad cursed. He screamed. He cried. But he never begged. He gathered what little resolve remained in his body, and while vibrating from the shock, looked Hause directly in the eyes and spoke. "You will not break me! You will not break the Rebels!"

Hause leveled his gun at Chad's head and left it there, his finger coiled around the trigger, but the explosion of brains and bone did not come. Hause flipped his pistol back into its holster and turned. "Loviatar, hammer his head. Hammer all of their heads."

Loviatar gave an almost sensual growl.

Hause shoved past Dan towards the cell door. "Bring them back."

"What do you mean?"

"Lerah and Dominic, all of the Shadeux, withdraw all of them."

"Should I prepare our men for war?"

Hause turned and gave Dan a hard shove. "You think I want this? I know you did, Dan. Oh, you must be celebrating inside. You've got it back, right? Your precious military, all of that coin that had been diverted from your pockets. You've got your guns, your bombs, all of it. The fires of fallen settlements will once again dot the skyline as we wage bloody war. Come on, where is that smile? I know it's there, hiding. You can probably taste the blood, can't you? You never wanted this to succeed and now you've gotten your wish."

"I only want what is the best for the Union. That's what I've always wanted. I follow your command."

"What's best for the Union? You think war is what's best for the Union?"

"I follow your command."

"Yes, you follow my command, while shaking your head and grumbling beneath your breath. I've heard your objections Dan. I've heard them loud and clear."

"Should I prepare our men for war?"

Hause sighed and slid a palm across his forehead. "Put them on alert. I may have another solution."

"All due respect, Lord Marshal, when the people find out about the coin and our soldiers, they will demand blood."

"What did I just say?" Hause hissed.

"Yes, Lord Marshal."

Hause pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, I'm just... this whole thing just spiraled so quickly."

Dan heard Loviatar's hammer sink into Chad's skull, there was the wet flop of brains hitting the floor. "What about Lerah? Should I be worried?"

"Someone has to answer."

"You know I can't allow you to hurt her."

Hause gripped his hand. "It won't be her that answers. Now bring them back."

"I'll deliver the order right away."

"Sir, don't let him kill me, please? I'm not a Rebel! I never did anything to the Union! Lord Hause, please?"

Short lived cries for mercy filled the hall behind them as they departed.

# 34

"It's supposed to be bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding," Dominic said.

Lerah looked slightly lost inside the fresh change of clothes, like a child playing dress up; the shirt and pants were made of sackcloth and were quite baggy on her lean frame. "You're really getting into the spirit of this whole thing."

"It's probably the only time I'll ever get married, might as well make the most of it."

"These people give me the creeps. Did you see the way they just stopped and stared at us with those blank faces? No smile. No frown. They just stared."

"They probably don't see many outsiders."

"Maybe if they stopped killing all of them they wouldn't have that problem."

"That's only if you can't get pregnant. Don't worry, I've got strong seed."

She smiled and shook her head as she stuffed her dirty clothes into the duffel. "Thanks for the reassurance." Lerah sat down on the straw stuffed mattress. The bed was made, the sheets were pulled tight. It was flanked by a dresser topped with bottles of hair oil and a brush. "It looks like someone lived here before us; they didn't even bother to move their shit out."

Dominic held up a pair of slippers he'd retrieved from under the bed. "These are a little too small for me."

"You think they?" Lerah ran a stiff finger across her throat.

"I dunno, probably."

She shivered. "I don't want to think about it."

He stood and checked the window. The sky was a dark purple. A few settlers were scuffling by with their families in tow, pushing carts and carrying sacks, braving the short path under the power of torch and lamplight. "You think Micah and Susanna are out there?" He looked back at her over his shoulder.

She was sitting forward with her elbows on her knees. "I don't know. We'd have to ask around. But I'm not really sure how to go about doing that without raising eyebrows."

"There's Doctor what's-his-name."

"Scroggins."

"Yeah, there's him, we can ask him about it."

"You want to just come right out with it?"

"Why not?"

"What if he's with them? The Lord Marshal said he wasn't sure."

"Then we'll have to improvise our asses out of here. It's a risk, but it's our only semi-solid move. I'm not keen on sticking around here for the next six months trying to find another weak point, are you?"

She sighed and fell back on the mattress, her arms sprawled above her head.

He came over and fell down next to her, propping himself up on one elbow. He slipped his other hand beneath her shirt and began rubbing her stomach; the skin was soft and warm and familiar. "Do you trust me when I say I won't let anything happen to you?"

She laughed. "So I'm the damsel in distress now? Is the dashing Outlander going to ride in, guns-a-blazing, and save me from the bad men and women?"

"I sort of feel an obligation. You're a guest in my home."

She didn't protest as his fingers crept beneath the waistline of her pants. She gasped, arching her back. She placed a hand against the side of his face and ran her fingernails through his wiry beard. "I don't think we're in your home anymore. This place, I think it's a world unto itself."

Lying there, freefalling through her gaze, something began to spark up inside of him. Something he hadn't felt since the mud and blood of the war. An emerging knowledge that'd he'd be willing to face down all the bad shit the world had to offer if it meant saving Lerah just a moment of suffering.

"What are you thinking about?" Her voice sounded as if it were lined in velvet.

His fingertips stroked the inside of her thighs. She opened her legs a little further, giving him more room to work. "I thought you said this was a onetime thing?"

"I did. But when you look at me like that my memory gets a little fuzzy."

"Sounds like you're doing better than me."

"How so?"

"Because when you look at me, I feel like I can't breathe."

She scratched at the bottom of his chin with two fingers and smiled. "So, what are you saying? That I'm killing you?"

"You are, and it's a glorious death."

She wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him hard, circling his lips with her tongue before pulling away. "You're going to be trouble."

A knock at the door caused them to roll in separate directions. They came to their feet on opposite sides of the bed.

"Come on you two, everyone is waiting."

Dominic came around the bed and offered Lerah his arm. "Ready to get married?"

Lerah giggled and put a hand over her mouth, feigning girlish excitement. "A cult wedding, every little girl's dream."

They managed to suppress their laughter before stepping outside.

As she entered the sanctuary with Dominic no one in the crowd stood, they simply twisted around in their seats. They looked sulky and tired; eager to get the show on the road so they could get on the road. Even with lamps and candles burning around them everything still felt dark and sleepy. The mural above the pulpit was a pleasant shift in tone, water being poured into an overflowing fountain, streaks of ivory and blue. Lerah set her eyes on that image as she walked arm-in-arm with Dominic through the center of the disinterested, and perhaps even hostile, crowd.

Mother stood waiting for them at the front of the aisle with her book of Scripture clenched in her hands. She was flanked by her son, the one with the bad breath and the spastic bowels. He'd parted with his rifle but still wore a highly prominent pistol on his hip.

Lerah and Dominic came to a stop between the two front pews. She gripped his hand. To others it would look like a display of love. For her it was a security blanket. No, it wasn't the wedding day jitters or anything like that. It was the vulnerability. It was being unarmed in the middle of a room full of potential hostiles.

Dominic held her hand a little tighter as if sensing the turbulence. "You ready for this?" He kissed her softly on the top of the head and set a cage of butterflies loose in her stomach.

_Yeah, he's going to be trouble._

"Shall we proceed?" Mother met them where they stood. Her fingers instinctually navigated the pages of scripture. She searched their faces with blood shot eyes, with alcohol still fresh on her breath, and began the ceremony; bonding them together, even until death.

Most of the settlers left the sanctuary as soon as the final words were spoken; even Mother seemed to be in a hurry to dismiss. She hugged each of them briefly, with as little contact as possible, welcoming them into the family. She encouraged them to stay behind and mingle with the skeleton crew of stragglers.

"So, how does it feel to be married?" Dominic took her under his arm and tickled her ribs.

She wiggled away, laughing. "We're not married, we're _united_. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah, forgot. How does it feel to be _united_?"

"Perfect. Every little girl's dream. Guest list could have been a little better."

There were a handful of people left, murmuring to one another, uninterested in welcoming Dominic and Lerah into the fold. "Yeah, when we do this thing for real, they're definitely not invited."

"Oh yeah, we're going to do this for real?"

"Absolutely, I'll get you a big ring and everything. I'll even use Hause's coin to buy it, make it extra special."

"I'll let you run that notion past my father. He'll love hearing an Outlander confess undying love for his daughter."

"My charm can be quite persuasive."

"I have no doubt. Just be sure to tell me how you want your funeral arranged, first."

A tall man with ebony skin and snow white hair emerged from the social mix. He was trailed by a petite woman bouncing a child on her hip. He exuded confidence as he strolled up to Dominic and presented a firm handshake. "Congratulations to you both." He bent down and hugged Lerah, kissing her on both cheeks before returning to his wife's side. "I am Blake Scroggins. This is my wife Riley and my daughter Judith."

"Say hello to the nice people, Judith," Riley prompted her daughter.

The little girl was gnawing on a misshapen block of wood with wheels.

"Judith, honey, these people just got married, tell them congratulations."

"Gratulations," Judith mumbled. The wooden toy was firmly planted between her lips and soaked in drool.

Lerah lit up like a child with a new puppy. "Oh, aren't you just adorable." She crouched, getting eye level with Judith.

"I'm Dominic and this is my new bride Lerah. But you probably know that. Apparently we've got an appointment with you tomorrow."

Blake sucked in a big breath, visibly uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. "It's not the most pleasant thing. But I'm required by Mother to perform the procedure, so I do as I'm told."

"Required by Mother or by Scripture?"

"Well, I mean, they're pretty much the same around here."

Dominic nodded. "Is she the only one with a copy of that book?"

"The Scriptures?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she's the only one that has the power to interpret it."

Lerah latched on to Dominic's arm. "Honey, we just came into town and you're already grilling people. I'm sorry. He's got a question about everything, an insatiable curiosity."

"Oh, no worries, it's impossible to come by the answers unless you ask the questions. Word of warning," Blake lowered his voice. "Be careful who you ask, okay? Some people around here get suspicious when folks go around asking too many questions, it can get you in trouble."

"Fear of knowledge?" Dominic matched his tone.

"You could say that, yeah. You two have a goodnight." Blake gave them each a parting handshake and ushered his family away.

The sky outside the window had turned from purple to black. Ribbons of neon pulsated on the face of the obsidian sea, swelling and then shrinking, diving beneath the pitch black surface before breaking up through the depths again, more brilliant and magnificent than ever.

Dominic watched the familiar lightshow from the bed, one arm wrapped around Lerah's naked form. She scooted in closer, wrapped one leg over his, and kissed the inside of his neck to let him know she was still awake. Following on the heels of her affection he kissed the top of her head, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair. "What happened to that hard shelled Union grunt I met a few days ago?"

"Perhaps there never was a shell, perhaps I just didn't like you very much; you ever think of that?"

"I tend to grow on people."

"Yeah, whether they like it or not." She pinched the lobe of his ear between her teeth, tickling him with her breath.

"Hard shell or not, you didn't really strike me as the type that liked kids."

She jumped on top of him and propped her chin on his chest, looking up into his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The way you lit up when you saw Blake's kid, it was a side of you I didn't expect."

"So? She was a cute kid. I have many different sides; you haven't known me long enough to see them all."

"I'm just saying, you're not... hell, I dunno what I'm saying."

"I'm not what? A callous bitch?"

He ruffled her hair. "I wasn't gonna say it like that, but yeah, pretty much."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Mister mercenary gunslinger, only taking jobs for coin; such bullshit."

He wrapped his arms around her lower back. "How is that bullshit?"

"You're a bastard, but you're not the bastard you make yourself out to be."

"Do tell, what sort of bastard am I?"

She slid up his body and got nose to nose with him. His hands cupped her ass as she savored the taste of his mouth, holding on to his bottom lip for a moment before pulling back. "What you did in that settlement, helping those people, no one was paying you for that. That was all you. Then there's the way you've taken care of me, keeping me safe, telling me that you'd never let anything happen to me; a girl notices those things. I mean, it'd be easier on you to just let me go to the wolves. But you can't do that, can you? You've got a weak spot for helping those that can't help themselves, just like me. I guess I should have seen it when you told me the story about the people you tried to save at Death's Hallway. You lied to me, Dominic. You're not the bastard I signed on for."

He brushed her hair back behind her ears. "Sorry, I guess you caught me."

"Why fake it?"

"You know as well as I do, it's easier to keep people at shooting distance."

"I've always preferred the blade." She sat up, balancing her weight on his hips, careful not to disturb his wound, her small breasts swaying slightly with the movement.

He reached a hand up and pinched one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard, but not too hard. She turned her face towards the ceiling, releasing the slightest utterance of pain and pleasure.

"Too much?"

She shook her head. "Harder, use both hands."

He could feel himself growing stiff against the soft skin between her legs. She was responding to him as well, growing wet and eager.

She reached back, took him in her hand, and slowly slid him inside. "Oh, yes," she moaned, guiding him all the way in. She moved, slow at first, clapping her hands over his and holding them to her breasts. He rose to meet her thrusts. "No, don't move. Let me." Her hips picked up speed; back and forth and up and down. She ripped his hands away from her body and curled her fingers through his.

Her face red.

Purple veins showing through on her neck.

When the pressure became too much she'd release it in a string of breathy profanity, "Holyfuckingshitimsofuckingclose."

That was how Lerah fucked.

On top.

In control.

Her orgasm. Her rules.

After she came she fell across his chest, sweaty and satisfied. "Oh my god, a girl could get addicted to this."

He laughed and kissed the top of her shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin.

"You want my mouth?"

"I'm okay right now."

"You didn't—"

"No, Lerah, I didn't."

"Okay," she sounded relieved, "well, how do you want me?"

"I said I'm fine right now." He was still inside of her, as stiff as an oak barrel whiskey.

"Okay, soldier, what is it? Talk to me, I know you're thinking something."

"I mean, this is fun and everything, but what about after this?"

"After what?" her lips brushed his as she spoke.

"After the mission is complete, what happens with us?"

"Ah, you thick headed brute, don't go and complicate this."

"I'm not complicating anything; I'm just asking a question."

"I'm not thinking that far ahead. Who knows if we're even gonna make it out of here? Why can't we just enjoy right now?"

"We're going to make it out of here, Lerah. That much I know."

She placed a hand on either side of his face and ran her thumbs beneath his eyes, as if wiping away invisible tears. "I'm fond of you Dominic, I'm not going to lie and say I'm not."

"And obviously, I'm pretty fond of you." He arched his hips, prodding at her.

"You mean you're fond of what's between my legs."

"You know it's more than that."

"Yes, I know. You don't have to explain. And you also know it's complicated. You and I, we're not exactly on the same side of things."

He sighed and pushed her off before rolling from the bed, leaving her tangled in the blankets. "You still believe that shit, after everything? After Perkins, after what you've seen, you still believe in the virtuous Union bullshit? You know, I was just starting to think you were smart, that you could think for yourself."

"We still don't know what we saw. Until I can sit down and talk to the Lord Marshal—"

"We do know what we saw. You still don't want to believe it. And why would you want to talk to him about what happened? Why would you want to implicate yourself... to implicate us? He doesn't know we were even there. For all he knows, Rebels or bandits killed his men. Aren't you worried about what he'll do to you? What about what he'll do to me? I'm nothing to him."

"You don't have to return with me, Dominic. When this is done, we can go our separate ways. I don't need you there. And you're right, it's probably better if you're not."

"Hause is still holding half my coin."

"Oh god," she threw her head back on the pillow, "you and your coin."

He didn't give a shit about the coin. He just didn't want to part with Lerah. But he wasn't about to say that out loud. He still had his pride. He grabbed the unoccupied pillow and strode silently to the other side of the room.

"What are you doing? Get back in bed!"

"I'm fine, just go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

He turned his back and curled up against the wall. He was still wide awake as dawn began to stretch its wings across the floorboards of their small dwelling. Soon it would be time to shake off the bitterness of the wedding night and play the happy couple. It was already turning into a real marriage.

# 35

Things were civil between Dominic and Lerah. They'd developed a mutual understanding. One that said the mission came first and that whatever was going on between them could wait until they got the hell out of Reeman.

The settlement looked different during the day, normal: families going to the wells to top off their water supplies, laborers pushing cartfuls of grain and construction materials, there was even the occasional nod and smile. The only thing that seemed out of place was the men with the guns standing vigil over the whole affair; they transformed the entire scene from community to prison camp.

As Toby led them along he jawed away about this and that, carrying himself with a ridiculous swagger, sporting his rifle as if it were some natural extension of his cock. "We got along a lot better when there wasn't so much crowding. Now there are folks, folks everywhere, taking up space and resources. Mother wants people for the cause, so she ain't about to cut them loose, unless they violate Scripture in some way. If it was me, if I was head honcho, king of the court, herding the cattle—"

"You mean if you were in charge?"

Toby looked back at Dominic, displeased about having his attempt at clever musing cut short. "Yeah, if I was in charge, this place would be half of what it is, at least in terms of population. You two wouldn't have gotten in, I'll say that much."

"Now you're just hurting my feelings."

"We got too many folks around here not pulling their weight, lot of hanger-ons."

"That's not us," Dominic said, curling his arm around Lerah.

"Yeah, I heard about you, some bad ass war hero or some such shit."

"Yeah, some such shit."

"I would have been out there in the shit with ya'll if it weren't for Mother. She thought I was too young, thought I'd serve a better purpose here. What Mother says goes; I'm sure you done picked up on that by now."

"I got that impression."

"So, are you her only son?" Lerah asked.

"That's a complicated issue around here. There is two of us, technically. His name is Zach, ya'll probably met him."

"The one missing fingers? Yeah, not the most friendly guy."

"He ain't got much reason to be friendly right now. But I can't really go into that with ya'll, you know, ya'll being newcomers and all."

Dominic felt a hand brush his arm. He stopped and looked down.

His admirer was a crumpled up old woman; an empty bag of skin. She was peering up at him through a milky white film. She gave him an effortless smile, revealing a mouth sparse with teeth. "I just wanted to say that ya'll are a lovely couple, just lovely. The service last night was beautiful. It always does me good to see two young souls in love."

"Well, ma'am, I'm not so young, but I appreciate it."

Her laugh was scratchy, but no less enchanting. "Dear, compared to me, you're practically a baby. Did you know—"

"Ms. Harriet, these two folks got an appointment to keep; we gotta be moving along." Toby created a barrier with his body and gave the old woman a patronizing pat on the back. "There will be plenty of time for chat later."

Dominic wouldn't have minded a few more minutes with the old woman. It felt good to be greeted by something other than contempt.

"Her kids are dead. Her husband is dead. Don't know what the hell she's still hanging on for. We all just sort of let her alone; figure she's earned that much."

"She seemed pleasant enough," Dominic said.

"She's pleasant enough, I suppose. She'll talk your ear off if you let her. Ya'll are gonna eat well for the next week. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, she'll be knocking on your door; does it with every newcomer we get."

"We're definitely not the type to turn away free food, especially given how scarce things have been for us the past few days."

"Don't get used to it." There was a v-shaped sweat stain forming on the back of Toby's shirt. It seemed to grow in width and intensity with each new step. "Everyone around here has gotta pull their weight. That reminds me, Momma wanted me to let ya'll know that you'll be starting your work assignments tomorrow."

"I thought only the celibate had to multiply with their labor?" Lerah sounded the part of the true believer.

"Nope, everyone has a job around here. The only benefit of going celibate is that you don't risk suffering the consequences of not being able to pop out kids. Your man is gonna be with the Watch and you're gonna be in the greenhouse; we had a spot open up there."

"I don't have much of a green thumb," Lerah confessed. "I'm pretty good with a rifle, though. My husband taught me to shoot."

"Well, you're out of luck missy; only men allowed on the Watch."

"That seems a little unfair."

"What Momma says goes."

All of the houses pretty much looked the same in Reeman. Some had obviously been added to over the years, the newer sections of wood appearing lighter in tone, having spent less time under the thumb of the harsh Outland weather. Toby led them up a small incline that wound between two houses with cluttered porches. There was an older man sitting in a chair that appeared to be a bit too small for his frame. He was cleaning the bore of a varmint rifle. He acknowledged Toby with a shallow nod.

"Things slow down at the wells?" Toby asked him.

The man nodded. "Yeah, no one is getting much done. All of them are still jabbering away about the fall yesterday. Didn't much feel like hearing it anymore."

"Alright then, have a good one."

"You do the same."

Their destination resided at the top of the path. Blake stood on the front porch as if he'd been expecting their arrival. Perhaps he had. He stepped down and greeted them. "I'll take it from here."

Toby handed them off without a word and turned back down the path.

"He wasn't too rough on you guys, was he?" Blake observed them over the top of wire rimmed glasses.

"He's not so bad once you get him talking," Dominic said.

"You just have to catch him on the right day. Anyway, come in; let's get out of the sun."

The smell of food was the first thing Dominic noticed when he stepped inside.

"Something smells delicious," Lerah said.

Riley was on the other side of the room, laboring over the boiling culprit that had attacked Dominic's nostrils. She stood and wiped her hands on the front of her dress, before trotting across the room and greeting them with full hugs.

"You two remember my wife?"

"How could we forget? Whatever you're cooking, it smells divine." Lerah stood on the tips of her toes and sniffed at the air.

"And of course, there's my daughter, Judith." The little girl was running her toy car against the wall, creating crashing noises with her pursed lips.

"Oh my gosh, yes, just the cutest thing." Lerah dropped to her knees and slid across the floor to invade Judith's playtime.

Dominic couldn't hold back his smile as he watched Lerah gush over the little girl. Her walls were down, the woman underneath was on full display, there was no bullshit to cloud the glass.

"Hun, would you please take Judith out for a bit? I've got a meeting with these folks."

"Of course, she needs to get some air anyway. Could you stir the soup for me every now and then?"

"Have no fear, darling." Blake gave his wife and daughter a quick peck on the cheek and sent them out the door.

"Looks like you've got yourself quite the family, Doctor." Dominic took long heavy steps around the room. He stopped and hovered over the cook pot. He took the spoon up and stirred the soup delicately, inhaling the aromatic fumes. "Smells damned good, damned good. I haven't had a good stew in some time. What's in it?"

"Some potatoes and a few vermin I took the other day." Blake was beginning to look a little uneasy as he watched Dominic molest his wife's cooking.

"Well, your wife has worked magic."

"Thank-you, uh, do you and your lady want to—"

Dominic dropped the spoon and raised a hand. "In a minute, we'll get to that. I just want to take all this in for a moment. I mean, there's not much space, but you've really made it work. It all feels very... sweetheart, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Cozy?" Lerah had taken up a position by the door, her hands folded at her waist.

"Yes, cozy, that sounds right. Cozier than where I grew up, that's the damned truth."

"Well, thank-you, we like to think we've made the best of things."

They had made the best of things, they truly had; they'd turned a prison cell into a palace: the rolling cook pot, the two beds sitting side by side in the corner, the neatly stacked shelves of books and trinkets jutting from the walls, the dining room table with the place settings all perfectly aligned, and the tall chair at the center of the room with the afghan draped across the back, it was a picture that looked as if it'd been taken a million miles away from Reeman.

"You make this chair?" Dominic pressed down lightly on the back of the chair; sturdy.

"I did, yes." There was a glimmer of pride in his voice.

"You wove the seat and everything?"

"I did."

"Wow, that is impressive, may I?"

"Go ahead."

Dominic slid around and eased into the seat, bracing himself for the bottom to drop out. The seat sank comfortably beneath him, the legs whined a bit, but everything held together. Dominic was impressed; it was no small feat to create something capable of supporting a man of his stature. "This is a fine chair. I'll have to commission you to make me one."

"It would take some time."

"I imagine it would, it's a fine piece."

"It's not so much the making of the chair as it is the gathering of the materials. There isn't a whole lot of spare wood lying around here. I'd have to go beyond the walls and gather it on my own. That takes some time."

"Forget about it then. I don't want you risking your life to build me a chair. I'll just come over and sit in yours."

Blake laughed. He seemed to have relaxed a bit. "So, I know our business isn't exactly pleasant. But it's necessary. Who would like to go first?"

Dominic shook his head and crossed his legs, looking up at Blake from the chair. "I don't think we're going to let you examine us today. What about you babe, you feel like being poked at?"

"Not particularly." Lerah was leaned back against the door, her arms and ankles crossed.

"See, Doc, I don't think it's going to happen."

Blake looked back at Lerah, then at Dominic, then back at Lerah, as if he were trying to find a twitch, a smile, something that told him this was just a big joke. "That's not really an option, Mother requires—"

"Is Mother here?"

"No, but—"

"Let's talk chairs, do you wanna talk chairs instead, Doc?"

"No... not really."

"Okay then, let's talk something else."

"I don't really have time to talk. If you're not going to submit to the exam, I'm going to have to report to Mother—"

"Micah and Susanna."

Dominic saw instant recognition in Blake's eyes, a recognition that quickly flooded every corner of his body. "I don't know—" Blake made a break for the door, with every intention of blowing right through the delicate little flower standing in his way. Lerah sprouted thorns and made quick work of him. She punched him in the throat, stunning him and taking the sound out of his body. He stumbled back towards Dominic, who handled the rest; he threw him across his hip, put him on his back, and planted him with a knee.

"I told you he wasn't going to cooperate. What are we going to do now?" Lerah ran her fingers through her hair as she checked the front window for any signs of unwelcome guests.

"He's just scared, give him a chance." He slapped Blake across the face, trying to focus him. "Ain't that right, Doc? You're just scared and I don't blame you. I'd be scared too. Breathe, you're fine."

Blake grabbed at his throat, gulping air.

"There you go, keep breathing. Now, we're going to talk, just like this. If you try to scream, or do anything else stupid, my knee goes on your throat and it doesn't come off. Sound like a fair deal?"

Blake nodded as he removed his spectacles and rubbed away some of the water that had accumulated in his eyes.

"Okay, Micah and Susanna, tell me about them."

"Are you two Union?"

Dominic slid his knee towards Blake's throat.

"No, wait." Blake strained to hold the monstrous appendage at bay. "I just want to know what position I'm dealing from. Mother has got a lot of eyes and ears out there."

"We could just lie to you," Lerah said, falling into the chair at Blake's head.

"You could, yeah. But I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good judge where people are concerned."

"Seems like a good skill set to have."

Blake nodded. "It's kept me alive this long."

Dominic slowly removed his knee from the man's chest, stood, and backed towards the door, blocking the only route of escape; he was a much more imposing obstacle than Lerah had been. "Yeah, we're Union... well, she's Union; I'm more like the hired help."

Blake worked himself into a sitting position and stayed there. "That's a dangerous thing to be around here."

"I'm assuming you're talking about Micah and Susanna? What happened to them?" Lerah was leaning forward on her knees, growling in Blake's ear.

Dominic signaled for her to dial it back a bit.

"I promise you both, I had nothing to do with what happened to them, nothing. Mother found out they were Union. I don't know how, but she did. She nearly tossed me off the cliff along with them." He wrapped his knees up around his chest and dropped his head between his hands, letting out a dejected whimper. "Damn it, she's just now starting to trust me again. If she finds out who you two are, that you're talking to me, she'll kill me. She'll kill my family, do you understand?"

"So Micah and Susanna are dead?" Lerah asked.

"Yeah, they're dead."

"Did you know they were Union before Mother found out?"

Blake looked around as if another pair of ears may have found their way into the room.

"You're safe with us, Blake. What you say stays here."

He nodded. "Yeah, I knew. I knew pretty early on. The Union made contact with me when I was out scavenging; this was some time back. They were looking for a way to get some people in here and sweep the rug out from under Mother. I guess they didn't want to risk a body count. Mother had been out of control for awhile, so I agreed to help however I could. They said they'd be in contact. I never heard anything else until Micah and Susanna showed up at my door."

"And Mother just magically figured out who they were?" Lerah asked stiffly.

"I swear on my wife and kid, I do not know how Mother found out. One day the Watch just came for them. A few days later they took the Fall. Mother grilled me about it. She suspected me of working with them, but I guess she could never prove it." His hands were shaking. "Listen, guys... ma'am... I just want to live in peace. I don't want to put my family in danger. Not again. Mother has been very clear with me."

Dominic ignored his pleas. "What were you working with them on?"

"I don't understand the question."

"When you were helping Micah and Susanna, what was their game plan for taking Mother down?"

"We never had one."

"What do you mean you never had one?"

"They turned, okay. They bought into all of this."

"Bullshit!" Lerah dug the tip of her boot into one of Blake's kidneys. He yelped and scooted beyond her reach. "They wouldn't turn. No one in their right mind would give up Genesis for this."

"Maybe they weren't in their right mind," Dominic said.

"It didn't happen overnight. They were eager to undermine Mother. We tried to figure out a way to destroy her without destroying everyone here. She's not a block you can just rip away; the entire structure will come tumbling down. The people here adore her. They trust her. They've got their entire lives wrapped up in her, literally. If she says you violated Scripture and you're taking the Fall, then you're taking the Fall. There are no second opinions. Her vote is the only one that counts. She can turn friends to enemies with a snap of her fingers."

"Someone explain to me why we're trying to preserve this pack of crazies?" Lerah seemed to be venting rather than asking a question.

"There are good people here," Blake's voice was quivering. "Out here, things got pretty rough during the war. People, myself included, were just looking for safety, looking for assurance amid all of that chaos; we needed something to believe in. The people you see around here, Mother became that something for them."

"And the spell just magically didn't work on you?" Lerah asked.

"I wasn't drawn by her dogma as much as I was by the promise of safety and community. When the blood started flowing, things changed for me. I just started keeping my head as low as possible and rolling with the punches. Then the Union approached me and I saw a way out, but it almost got me and my family killed. As much as I want to get them out of here, I'm not willing to risk their lives in the process."

"And we're not asking you to," Dominic assured him.

"Yes you are, simply by asking me these questions."

"Okay, let's just get to what happened with Micah and Susanna."

"Like I said, they didn't just break off overnight, it was gradual. For awhile they were working their way around the settlement, talking to people, you know, just trying to find a weak link in the chain. We'd meet at my place a few days every week. But over time those meetings became less frequent, and those two seemed much more withdrawn. It got to the point where, when we met, I was doing most of the talking and prodding. Eventually they just came out with it and told me they were done with the mission. They said that they'd taken to each other and wanted to try to make a life here."

Lerah wasn't having any of it. She knocked the chair over, marched across the room, and stood next to the hyperactive pot of stew, removing herself from the conversation.

"So what'd you say?"

"What'd you want me to say? I nodded and sent them on their way. I wasn't going to try to convince Union soldiers to complete their mission, I was merely an assistant, and they essentially fired me. I thought things were going to be fine, I saw them around the settlement, but we didn't really talk after that. I'll say this, they seemed genuinely happy."

"But?"

"Can I please sit? The floor is hurting my back."

"Go ahead, it's your home."

Blake brought the chair upright and took his seat with a satisfied sigh. "Zach came in here one night."

"The one missing the fingers?"

"Yeah, he came in with his brother. He had this splinter that had gotten infected and had caused him to go feverish; it was a damned mess. It was obvious when I was working on him that he'd gotten into Mother's whiskey, the fumes were leaking from his pores. Riley and Judith were working on dinner, so I was trying to get him in and out as quickly as I could; never felt comfortable having those boys around my family."

"Can't say I blame you much."

"He was talkative too, more so than usual. He was running his mouth about this and that. I was ignoring him for the most part, just working to get the splinter dislodged. Then he said something that almost made me drop my tools."

Lerah was back in the conversation, standing between Dominic and Blake, listening intently.

"He started going on about how him and Toby aren't really Mother's sons. How she picked them up out of the Wastes when they were youngsters and started toting them around and using them to back up her story."

"Her story?" Lerah asked.

"She didn't tell you? Oh, it's her claim to fame, really; miraculous conception. She was just a woman, wandering through the Outland, when one day she got a message from the Creator. He was going to use her to multiply the earth and spread His word. He gave her a book and impregnated her with two sons."

"And people just believed her?" Lerah laughed.

"People want to believe in something," Blake sounded sympathetic. "I wanted to believe it myself, but I'm an educated man, or at least I try to be, so it never sat right with me. But like I said, this was always about safety and community for my family."

"So what happened?"

"Toby was trying to shut him up. I could see by the way Toby was reacting that there was something to what Zach was saying. I tried to act like I wasn't paying attention, but my damn hands were shaking, there was really no hiding that. I was sure Toby and a few men from the Watch were going to come back for me and my family. But they never did."

"Why do you think that is?" Dominic asked.

Blake shrugged. "You saw what Mother did to Zach. She cut off his fingers for dishonoring the house of the Creator. She'd have done much worse if she'd found out that he'd revealed something like that; she'd have probably killed him. Toby might be a bastard, but he's got love for his brother. My guess is they just kept it under wraps, pretended like it never happened. They knew I'd do the same, in the interest of my family."

"Except you didn't, did you?"

"Well, I was thinking about going to Micah and Susanna the next day and letting them know that I'd come across the weak link in the chain that they'd been looking for, but the next day Mother had them in lockup."

"Seems pretty convenient," Lerah said.

"If someone told Mother what Zach said, they'd have come for you too, right?" Dominic asked.

"That's what I thought, yeah."

"And it doesn't make sense, how'd she find out that they were Union?"

Blake shook his head. "I don't know; I've been asking myself the same question, trust me."

Dominic stood by the door, thinking and muttering to himself. After a few moments he met Lerah's curious eyes. "This is our weak link. The Union wants us to take this place from Mother with a minimum amount of bloodshed; this is the way we do it. We expose her to her followers as a fraud, using her own son as our witness."

"How do you plan on accomplishing this? Are you going to just stroll up to him, as casual as you please, and broach the subject of his mommy issues?"

"I've been assigned to the Watch. He's on the Watch. I'll use that little bond to feel him out."

Blake stood and started towards the cook pot. "It's not a bad idea. I imagine he's not too fond of Mother at the moment, she was the one that had his fingers chopped off, after all." He stirred the soup and sipped some broth from the ladle before setting it aside.

"Well, it's as good a place to start as any, so I say let's go with it."

Lerah threw her hands up, obviously not fond of the idea, but absent a better one. "I suppose it'll have to do."

Dominic opened the front door and turned to Blake. "I can trust you, right?"

"If Mother finds out you're Union, and that we had this conversation, I'll be just as dead as you."

"Keep your head up, Doc. You'll be hearing from us soon."

# 36

Monte had escorted Glaspell, and the chest of coin, east, into the unknown settlements, without incident. When he returned he had ten men at his back. He chose to move north, staying off the main road, preferring to avoid a toe-to-toe fight with the Union while he searched for his fellow Saboteur and the Union bitch. He trusted Glaspell to get the chest of coin to his brother and the rest of the Rebels. Glaspell had proven his loyalty to the cause many times over. He'd served beside Monte and his brother during the war. He'd been there towards the end, during the worst part of the conflict, when the Union was hammering their asses day and night; he'd gotten muddy and bloody. He could have deserted, like so many others. He could have run back to the ashes of his home and the carcasses of his family, but he chose to stay and fight. To a man like Glaspell, it wasn't about coin, it was about principle; Glaspell was a rare breed.

Monte didn't recognize half the men at his back. They were mostly new blood. They were a patchwork of fighters that hailed from settlements all across the wastes. They'd set out with a common cause: to join up with the Rebels and fight the Union. For Monte, that was all that mattered, they could disagree on everything else between heaven and hell, but as long as their ultimate goal was to dismantle Genesis brick-by-brick, they were okay in his book.

They'd been hiking most of the day, stopping occasionally to rest their legs and fill their bellies. It was during one of these intermissions that Monte spotted an anomaly on the horizon. It was a ransacked settlement. He'd seen enough of them during the war that he could pick one out simply by sniffing the air. The black skeleton fingers of burned down houses beckoned for him across the parched brown sea.

"I'm familiar with that settlement," one of the men spoke softly, as if the attackers were still nearby. "I went through there once last year."

"I'm assuming it was in slightly better shape," Monte said.

"Yeah, slightly."

"I suppose we should go have a look."

What Monte had viewed from a distance gave no heed to the true power of the destruction. Death was a deceitful friend, always keeping its back turned at a distance, luring with curiosity, refusing to show its ghastly face until the very last moment. Every home had been consumed by flame; the smell of burnt wood still hung heavy in the air. The only building that hadn't burned was the main hall, though it'd seen its fair share of gunfire, and some crazy bastard had blown a hole through the wall.

"Looks like a war took place here."

"It would appear it was a rather one sided affair." Monte kicked a crumbling piece of timber aside, leading his force further into the settlement.

They came upon a handful of men and women with shovels, working a makeshift burial site. There were three bodies stacked nearby, still waiting for a hole in the ground. There were mounds of dirt all around them, with black crosses protruding from them. When the diggers saw Monte and his men they jumped back from their work and raised their broken-down shovels, as if the thin metal and brittle wood could deflect bullets.

"We've got nothing worth taking. All that's left are these bodies," the woman speaking had shielded herself behind a man that appeared to be no less scared than she was.

"We're not here to rob you," Monte said. He hadn't raised his gun and neither had his men, but it wasn't a gesture that seemed to be working in their favor. "We're looking for some people and saw your settlement. Figured we'd come over and see what happened."

"What happened is the Union, that's what happened."

"The Union did this?"

"That's low man, even for them," one of Monte's men muttered.

"Yeah, they did this. Came tearing through here. They started burning everything, shooting folks down. They were going on about their coin... how we'd taken their coin and they wanted it back. We had no idea what they were talking about. So they just kept on burning and shooting."

"How'd you make it out alive?" Monte thought it best to avoid mentioning the fact that his people had been the ones responsible for ruffling the Union's feathers.

"This man and woman came out of nowhere. They killed all of them."

Monte could hardly believe his ears, or his luck. "This man, was he a big guy? Scar on his face? Beard?"

"Sounds like him. The woman seemed to know the bastards, or they knew her."

"Well, I'll be damned." Monte gathered his men into a huddle. "We got us an interesting situation, boys."

"I'll say, boss. What do you make of this?"

"It sounds like these two don't have a loyal bone in their bodies. They're riding the line, taking it right down the middle. That's a dangerous place to be."

"They're good, boss."

"Yeah, they're good. I'd be disappointed if they weren't."

"They took out a lot of Union, boss. You sure we got enough people?"

"Shoot first. Shoot low. Like I said, I want them alive." Monte turned his attentions back to the grave crew, still standing with their shovels at the ready. "I'll leave a couple of my men here to help get the rest of these bodies underground."

"We're fine, we don't—"

"Nonsense, Outlanders stick together." After picking three unfamiliar faces from his crew, he took the rest of his men to the main hall to rest their legs among the blood and the shell casings.

# 37

Lerah had set out early for her job assignment at the greenhouse. Dominic didn't know where the girl got the energy. She practically skipped out the front door, more than happy to shoulder him with the difficult work of wooing Zach. She'd kept him up most of the night, riding him like he was the last horse out of town. He'd tried his damndest to stay mad at her. He'd curled up on the floor and shut his eyes, trying to block her from his thoughts. But she'd stripped down and stretched her body across the bed, whispering his name and coaxing him with breathy sighs. Soon his willpower was as useless as a three legged chair. He felt woozy, like he'd been sucking on the business end of a whiskey cask for the past eight hours. That was Lerah, a strong drink, intoxicating, able to strip a man of all good sense.

After a stretch of time he managed to dress and pull his ass outside. The only thing he'd been instructed to do was report to Jeb and get squared away. It reminded him of his first day with the Saboteurs, stepping into a roomful of battle hardened men, all of them searching for a sign of weakness to exploit. Back then he'd had everything to prove. By the end of his first day he'd broken one wrist and splintered a few noses. But these guys weren't Saboteurs, hell, they weren't even Rebels. They were just regular guys with guns, no special skills, the spray and pray type; he didn't think he'd have much of a problem carving out a place among their ranks.

Dominic moved like a bull through the settlement, lumbering this way and that. Conversations stopped and started as he maneuvered around idle groups of sweaty laborers shooting the shit between hammer swings. He was still an outsider to them. Not to be trusted. That was fine, he wasn't planning on hanging around long, and he wasn't there to make friends.

Dominic heard gunshots nearby, one ringing off right after the other. There were two guards watching the front gate, but they didn't seem to be the least bit concerned. Quite the opposite, they were tickled about something, laughing breathlessly and speaking in monosyllables. "Hey, it's the new guy," one of them said, wiping the tears from his eyes, still sputtering between words. "I forgot your name, I'm sorry."

"Dominic."

"Oh yeah, that's right; war hero and all that. I'm Luis and this is Russ. We weren't laughing at you. Things just get a little dry around here; we tend to jack around to pass the time."

"No explanation needed, I've been there myself."

Another series of gunshots rang out.

"I'm guessing you're here to get yourself outfitted?"

Dominic nodded.

"There's not really much to it; just a rifle and a patrol pattern." Luis held his rifle up by the barrel, turning it like a top between his fingers. "You won't ever get to use the thing. Bandits haven't come around here in years. We shot a few of them and the rest got the message. I didn't personally get to shoot any, but Russ here put a bullet in one of their legs."

"I would have finished him off if Justin hadn't started spraying," Russ sounded like he'd expended a fair amount of mental energy on the incident over the years.

"Anyway, you're gonna wanna see Jeb, he'll get you set up. Just follow the gunshots around back of the lockup."

"What's the racket about?" Dominic asked.

"Jeb's doing target practice with nubs." Luis latched on to Russ as the two men broke into another fit of laughter, slapping the stocks of their rifles against the ground.

Now he knew what they'd been so tickled about.

"Don't tell him we call him that," there was a real trace of fear in his voice.

"Your secret is safe with me," Dominic assured them before starting towards the lockup.

He didn't have to search long to find Jeb and Zach. They'd set up a crude little firing range, complete with a single target: a wooden square with chunks blown out of it. Zach was reloading the rifle, the stock propped between his knees, when Dominic announced his presence. "I thought you two were executing someone back here."

"You come to volunteer?" Zach asked without looking up.

"Let's see how Watch duty works out first."

Zach set the magazine and slammed it home with impressive speed and agility, given his limited faculties.

"Watch this," Jeb intoned as he backed up and stood beside Dominic.

Zach moved the rifle to his shoulder and clamped down on the stock with his cheek. He set his sights and blew a hole right through the center of the target; not more than a few seconds passed between reload and trigger pull.

"Hot damn, boy, you've got it. You're as ready as any man out there." Jeb moved towards the target to get a closer look at the damage.

"Why don't you show us what you've got, big shot?" Zach offered the gun to Dominic.

"Oh, I've got no interest in trying to follow that show. That was some fine shooting."

"Damn right it was." Zach brought the rifle to rest with a self satisfied little grin.

"Well," Jeb came waddling back over with his thumbs jammed in the waistband of his pants, his pistol holster rattling loosely at his side. "I guess I'm supposed to be getting you set up."

"That's what I was told," Dominic replied.

"Ya'll have fun. I'm going to get me some shut eye."

"Good shooting today,"

"Yeah-yeah."

"He'll grow on you or he won't, either way, you'll learn to tolerate him." Jeb was leading him back around the lockup. "There's not much to it, my boy, pretty boring and hot. These are all mostly good guys. You were lucky to get the day shift. Nights drag and men tend to fall asleep."

"I'm assuming Mother doesn't take kindly to that?"

"Nah, she wouldn't, but it's not like she's out checking. She's asleep herself."

"She's got Zach working nights?"

"Yep, that's his penance, along with them missing fingers of his."

"A lot of bad blood there, I take it?"

"Yeah, things are a bit sour." They passed by Luis and Russ as they headed towards the gatehouse. The two men were still laughing. "Don't be jerking around too much fellas, Mother is watching."

"Yeah, we're on it." Russ said.

Dominic looked towards Mother's house, towering above the rest of the settlement. He could feel her eyes penetrating him behind the cracked shutters, sipping her chalice, and clutching her book.

"We keep all the rifles in here. We've had some spares come up lately. We've lost a few people. I'm sure you've heard the stories by now." Jeb held the gatehouse door for him.

"Not really, care to fill me in?"

Jeb laughed and let the door swing shut. The darkness was pushed back by a single lamp burning in the far back corner of the room. "Nah, that's not really my place. I try to keep my nose as clean as I can. You'll hear in time, I'm sure. Word has got a way of traveling around here."

"I'm just trying to figure out the boundaries, so I know where to step."

Jeb loaded him down with a generic black rifle and two fully loaded magazines. "You'll figure it out. Just take your post on time, keep your eyes up, and go home at the end of the day; you'll get along just fine."

"You know, when I see Zach and his fingers... I mean, that was her son, right? Just spooks me a little. I'm of no relation to her, how easy would it be for her to chop me down?"

Jeb pursed his lips and nodded, as if Dominic had made a valid point. "Pretty easy, I ain't gonna lie to you. Mother cares about one thing; the Scriptures. There ain't a bone in her body that bends. You do something to shame her or the Creator and there's gonna be consequences; relation or not. Zach is a walking, talking testimony to that fact."

"I imagine he's pretty bitter about that."

"You could say that."

"You think he's a danger to Mother?"

Jeb put a hand on Dominic's back, moving him towards the door. "I think we've talked enough about this. Let's get you up there on the wall."

Back out in the sunlight, Dominic took notice of the men walking the wall. They were slumped over, sweat pouring from their bodies, swaying as if they were half blind. Then he looked to Mother's house, sitting there, staring down at him. There were two men at the bottom of the stairs; Toby and one other guard. How easy it would be to slice through them, kick down her door, and put one in her head.

But no, that wasn't the mission.

That's not how he worked.

He was a Saboteur.

He was death's silent partner.

Lerah walked small circles around the cramped greenhouse. Her clothes clung desperately to her skin. She kept pulling the cloth away from her torso, but it was a futile venture, the moment she let go of the fabric it recoiled and plastered itself to her skin again. The person responsible for showing her the ropes was late. She didn't have the slightest clue where to start or what to do. All she saw were rows of sweating greenery. Did she pluck or water? Everything looked to be in order, bright and healthy.

Just as she was devising her escape, the front tent flaps parted and a frail woman with red rings around her eyes came rolling in. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I slept a little bit longer than I intended." She could've used a few more hours from the looks of her. There was a nasty gash on her face as well, not too dissimilar from the one worn by Dominic, except hers was fresh.

"It's okay. I was just getting a feel for the place," Lerah said, the sweat dripping steadily from beneath her chin. "You've got a pretty good variety in here. We had a small garden back where I came from, but the choices were rather limited."

The plants seemed to be the furthest thing from the woman's mind, but she suffered Lerah's commentary nonetheless. "It's pretty unique out here. My husband and my... well... it's just me and my husband. We hadn't seen anything like it until we got here. It's a pretty simple system. The temperature is controlled by the airflow coming through the tent. It gets hot in here, but the sun doesn't touch anything directly. These are all hot weather plants, too. It took a lot of scavenging to come up with the seeds, a lot of trial and error." She motioned Lerah over. "Come here, I'll take you on a quick tour. Over there you've got your gourds," she took Lerah by the elbow and pointed across the room, moving left to right, "then you've got your hot peppers, beans, basil, spinach, and then, Mother's personal favorite, nopales."

"Nopales?"

"To be honest, we don't yield much of it. It takes a long time to grow and most of it goes to Mother. I've never tasted it myself."

"Seems like a raw deal."

"We do what we must, I'm here to serve and multiply," the woman didn't sound especially convincing. "Oh, how rude of me, I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Belinda Zulma."

"Lerah Adams," she said, wrapping the woman's spindly fingers in her palm. "Sorry, I'm pretty sweaty."

Belinda gave a threadbare smile. "It comes with the territory. You'll get used to it. One thing is for sure, you spend a day in here and you're guaranteed a good night's rest."

"That's something to look forward to, at least."

"If today doesn't do the trick, I can always work you harder tomorrow." Even with the smile and the warm words, there was something incredibly sad about Belinda. "So, I guess there's no better way to learn than to just dive on in."

"I'll follow your lead."

Belinda led her to the first row of planters. She took one of the leaves delicately between her fingers. "It's important that you develop a philosophy about plants."

"I don't quite follow."

"It's easy to get lost in the misery of the heat and the monotony of this job. Trust me; I've been in and out of here for a long time. But if you develop a philosophy on it, a perspective, then it makes all of this a lot easier, it gives a sense of importance to what you're doing."

"So what's your philosophy?"

The woman massaged the leaf with her thumb as she spoke. "Without plants there is no life. What we do in here, it's the heartbeat of this settlement. Those guys out there may never recognize it. They'll probably never thank you. But as long as you recognize the importance of what you're doing, it makes the day go by a little faster."

"I'll try to remember that."

"Good. So, what do you say we start pruning?"

"You follow, I'll lead."

It didn't take Lerah long to learn her way around. Before long she was out in front of Belinda, running the show. Time flew by, daylight faded, and soon it was time to head home.

# 38

Dominic hung around the gate after his shift ended, chatting it up with the incoming night crew, regaling some of the younger guards with stories of the war. Zach appeared, dragging his feet towards the ladder behind the lockup.

He stopped him before he could hit the rungs. "Hey, Zach, how're things?"

"What are you still doing here? Didn't your shift end? Didn't get your ass licked enough by the day crew?"

"I feel like we've really hit it off on the wrong foot."

"We didn't hit it off on any foot. I'm not looking to make friends."

"Ah, come on, everyone needs a friend."

"No, big shot, they don't, friends just end up dragging you down in the end."

"Or chopping off your fingers?"

Zach pushed him. He didn't move. "What the hell is your problem?"

Dominic didn't react to the aggression. "I'm just saying, I get where you're coming from."

"So you've had your kin turn on you? You've had them hold you down while some guy lopped off pieces of your body? You think you know about that?"

"Yeah, I think I know a little something about that."

"Yeah, well, I ain't looking to make no friends. So just get on out of here."

"But you are looking to get revenge, right?"

"What'd you say?"

"If someone did that to me... humiliated me like that... I'd want payback."

"I ain't you."

"I'm betting me and you have more in common than you think."

"You bet wrong."

"Did I? That's why you're working so hard to shoot straight again, isn't it? Payback? You want to put one right between the eyes of Toby and Mother."

Zach was frantic, head spinning as he searched for any ears that may have heard Dominic's words. Then his panic turned to anger and he had Dominic backed against the lockup, a rifle barrel planted firmly in his ribs. "What you just said is heresy. Mother will have you taking the Fall before sundown tomorrow, you and your lady."

"I don't think so. I don't think you're going to tell Mother about any of this." Dominic stole a glance at Zach's trigger finger, just to be safe; it was resting flat against the body of the rifle.

"You sound confident for a man standing at the wrong end of a gun."

"I've been at the wrong end of plenty of guns, but that's not why I sound confident."

"You go on then, stop talking in riddles and half truths before I lose my patience."

"You go to Mother with this and it'll be my word against yours. She's so paranoid she's just as likely to chuck you over with me. Aside from that, I can see in your eyes that you want revenge. You want to make them answer for hurting you, for humiliating you, for betraying your loyalty."

Zach stepped back and lowered the rifle, spitting into the dirt. "Even if what you're saying were true, which it ain't, there ain't nothing to be done. Even without my fingers, I like life. I like breathing."

"There's more to be done than you think. I can help you. It's not just me. The girl with me, she's quite capable. Blake is with us too."

Zach started laughing. He laid his maimed hand against his forehead and fell back against a support post. "Holy shit, you're Union. You're damned Union. You people just don't learn. We throw two of you over the edge and two more show up. Oh, wait till Mother hears—"

Dominic's hand closed around Zach's throat. "Enough with the threats. You go to Mother and I'll tell her you've been working with us all along. I'll tell her about your little revenge fantasy. You'll go down with me." Dominic slowly relinquished his grip. "Or we can come to an arrangement."

Zach sagged forward, cherishing the free air, coughing and spitting. After a few deep breaths he straightened up, clinging to the little dignity he had left, holding Dominic's pitch black, nightmare gaze. "What sort of arrangement we talking?"

"How would you like to run this place?"

"Oh yeah, really? What's next for me? Lord Marshal of the Union?"

Dominic just stared.

"Hot damn, you're serious. Did a mortar round go off too close to your head? These people hate my guts. Mother has made sure of that. Ain't no one gonna follow me."

"When they hear your story they will, especially if you got a witness or two to back you up."

Zach lodged his tongue in his cheek as if he were trying to hold something in place. "So you and the Doc been talking."

"We had a small heart-to-heart."

Zach turned his head towards the neon stars. A whole new realm of possibilities had just been opened to him. He looked to be actively checking the weight of each one, trying to decide if they were too heavy to bear. "I'm losing my edge. It used to be that I could see stuff coming before it got to me. But with Mother, what she did, and now you, I didn't see none of it coming."

"Happens to the best of us."

"That how you got that beauty mark on your face?"

"This old thing?" Dominic ran his hand over the familiar indent sullying his features. "Yeah, it was something like that. An old colleague gave me this; we had a bit of a falling out."

"He cut you pretty good. Least he didn't try to kill you."

"Oh no, he tried. He tried hard. He got a few good pokes in on me."

"I'm guessing you got the upper hand."

"I managed to get to my pistol. That backed him down."

"You didn't kill him?"

"Nah, I'd had my fill of killing at that point. We went our separate ways."

"I don't really got that option."

"No, you really don't."

All of the hostility seemed to have vanished. "Don't leave me hanging here. What crazy plan are you folks working up?"

"We've gotta figure out a way to get all the people here gathered together at the same time."

"Most likely way to do that would be during a service. Mother ain't usually around for those either. It'll be my brother leading the thing."

Dominic began playing the step-by-step in his head: seizing the stage from Toby, crowd control, trying to ensure that no guns were fired in the process—that was the main concern—if a shot went off every guard with a gun would converge on the place. "No Mother means less guards, right?"

Zach shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, if she's not there, it's just one guy with a gun and then Toby; he'll probably have his pistol."

"We're gonna meet up at Blake's place tomorrow night and really map this thing out, think you can pull it off?"

"Yeah, no problem, there's no one out here counting heads. I'll be there."

Dominic extended his hand, "We good?"

He set his rifle down and accepted the gesture. "You're really gonna make me the leader of this place?" he asked, shining his front teeth with his tongue.

"That's the plan."

He nodded. "Then yeah, we're good."

# 39

The next morning Dominic was walking the wall with the sun on his face and the sweat on his brow. He saw Jeb but not Zach. They'd apparently forgone their daily target practice. He was hoping that the bastard hadn't gotten cold feet.

_Nah, he's in._

He'd seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. He had that hunger for power and revenge; a potent cocktail that couldn't be diluted by logic and common sense.

Dominic took slow deliberate steps, there was no reason to rush it; he was going to walk the same square of wood countless times before the day saw its end. He was watching the people below him in the settlement, observing the meticulous way they went about their business, each well practiced in their craft, each guided by routine. Lerah was among them, carrying a row of plants in each arm, her hands gloved up to the elbow, looking downright miserable. He called out to her. She raised her middle finger discreetly and disappeared into the greenhouse.

Plodding footsteps approached Dominic from behind. They shook the entire walkway; the world's slowest stampede. "New guy, how's the heat treating you? Wanna puke yet? We've had guys puke," Toby sounded rather hopeful.

Dominic turned on one heel, doing his best to work up a convincing smile. "I'm feeling right at home."

"Are you, really?"

"Born and bred in it."

"Well good on you. Don't wanna be hauling you off the wall."

"I don't think I'd want you hauling me anywhere either."

"Well, I'm glad we're of a like mind." Toby wrapped his hands around two of the wooden spikes and leaned out over the wall, looking east. The Wastes were stretched out before him, the merciless embrace of the Outland. It glittered like diamonds. A thin haze hung in the air, distorting the images. In the distance, black claws sprouted from the earth, running across the horizon like jagged teeth. "Have you been there?"

"The Glass Mountains?"

"Yeah."

"No, I haven't."

"You know what's on the other side, right?"

"The irradiated seas and the Rebel armies; that's the rumor anyway."

"They say, out there beyond the mountains, that bolts of lightning tether the earth to the sky. That creatures, not man and not beast, roam the lands, feasting on human flesh."

"Well, I don't know how much of that is true. Could just be men spinning tales over tall glasses of hard drink."

"Folks got a tendency to let word of mouth keep them in line. They don't wanna risk it, they're happy to let other folks go before them and test the waters."

"Folks do have a knack for playing it safe, its self preservation."

Toby unhooked himself from the view. He had his hands perched on his hips. He was a good deal shorter than Dominic and a good deal wider around the waist, but that didn't dissuade his confidence. "You probably heard a story or two about this place."

"I've heard talk, but I like to figure things out for myself."

"Oh yeah, talk they do, they most assuredly do," Toby squinted up at the sun, clicking his rotten teeth together. "But you may want to think about that whole self preservation thing as you go about your business here."

"Think about it?"

"You know, mull it over, good and hard."

"And why is that?"

"I'm of the mind that if enough folks say something, there may be a bit of truth to it."

"Perhaps, perhaps not"

"I think it's best we go with perhaps. What do you say?"

"I say, how about we stop doing this little dance and you get to the point of your visit. You don't really strike me as the most social sort, so what's your purpose with me?"

"Dominic, you wanna make this hard, I'm happy to." Toby raised an index finger and looked as if, for a moment, he was going to jab it into Dominic's chest. He stopped just short. "You stay away from Zach, you hear?"

"What are you going on about?"

"Don't go playing dumb with me, new guy. Word came down off the wall. Folks saw ya'll chatting it up last night. You got no business with him."

"We were just talking, I think you're overreacting. You need to dial it back before you give yourself a heart attack. This heat, you getting all worked up, it can't be a healthy combination."

Toby closed the gap and buried his finger in Dominic's sternum. "You don't tell me shit, you understand? Zach ain't someone we want newcomers mingling with. There's still issues with him we're sorting through. You don't know Scripture. You ain't strong with your faith. If it were anyone else, we wouldn't worry. These are rules. We ain't asking. Now, them things you heard about us, you might want to take them into consideration before you go breaking rules again. We clear?" Toby pressed a little harder with his finger, sending a sharp pain shooting through Dominic's chest.

It took every ounce of self control not to break Toby's finger in half and toss his fat ass off the wall. "Yeah, Toby, we're clear."

"Good." Toby lowered his arm and nodded, satisfied with exerting his dominance. "Mother ain't gonna be around forever. Who do you think is gonna be steering this ship when she's gone? It'll be better for you to stay in my good graces."

"Understood."

"Get back to work."

Dominic's trigger finger twitched with desire as Toby wobbled off. He couldn't recall many men that had put hands on him and then walked away under their own power. As far as he was concerned, Toby was now living on borrowed time.

Lerah hated working the greenhouse. Even with the philosophy of plants and life buzzing in her brain, it wasn't enough to stamp out the misery. Her fingers were raw and her eyes burned from the constant influx of sweat. Belinda had shown up late again, bearing the same red rings around her eyes and apologizing profusely for her tardiness.

"So, how long have you been doing this?" Lerah was genuinely curious how someone could suffer through such a hellacious existence and keep a semblance of sanity.

"Oh, it's been too many years to count." Belinda got down low, examined a leaf, weighed its condition with a slight tilt of her head, plucked it free, and sent it flipping to the floor. "It wasn't just me. My... uh, my daughter, she used to help in here. She loved it. She just had a passion for it, guess she got that from me."

"When do I get to meet her?"

That empty smile, like thunder before a storm, quickly turned into a trembling chin and leaky eyes. "Oh, gosh, I don't know what's the matter with me, I'm sorry. Please, excuse me."

Lerah wrapped her arms around the woman's bony shoulders. "What is it? What did I do?"

Belinda caught herself on the table and quickly lost all composure. Lerah crouched slightly, prepared to catch her if she fell. "I'm fine, dear. You're too kind. I'm okay."

Lerah slowly released her hold, keeping her arms extended just in case. "What happened?"

Belinda shook her head. "We probably shouldn't talk about it."

"The hell we shouldn't, look at you. You can talk to me. What you say goes no further than this room."

"Mother and Scripture, we shouldn't—"

"Mother isn't here and I don't know a whole lot about Scripture. What I do know is that something has you upset and you need to get it out. Talk to me."

Belinda wiped her face, leaving black streaks of dirt across both cheeks. Lerah could see now that it wasn't sadness that had been keeping her awake at night. It was fear. Her face was a knot of terror and uncertainty.

"I promise, what you say to me, it stays with me."

It took some time, and a fair bit of soothing, but Belinda relented. She took Lerah's hand and leaned back against a stout wooden table covered end-to-end with flourishing plant life. "Have you heard of the Fall?"

Lerah nodded. "Unfortunately, yes, I have."

"For so many years my husband and I, we stood out there and we watched people take the Fall. We cheered for it. We rejoiced at the spectacle of it all. We felt that it was necessary for the survival of Reeman."

"Necessary how?" The sympathy Lerah felt for Belinda was quickly fading. She had this image stuck in her head of Belinda cheering on the death of Michael and Susanna, eyes wild, mouth frothing, fist pumping the air.

"Mother always told us that it was the will of the Creator. That if we wanted to survive and remain under His blessing that we had to do these things."

"And you just believed her?"

"It's hard at first, sure. The first time you see someone killed like that, it isn't easy. But then we saw Reeman thrive as a result. We continued to survive and prosper, against all the odds. It's hard not to buy into her message."

"Did you ever think that all of that thriving could be attributed to the ingenuity and the will of the community, rather than some invisible sky person?"

Belinda looked slightly insulted. "It's hard not to go along. Mother is persuasive. Out here we don't really get the luxury of analyzing things that closely."

"But I'm guessing you stopped going along with it once your daughter was the one up for slaughter."

Belinda nodded and buried her head in her hands, sniffing loudly. "She didn't do anything, she didn't. She was such a good girl," her voice was a muffled echo.

"The same rationale that was used to kill so many others was the same one they used to justify killing your daughter. You see that, don't you?"

"I thought the Fall was doing us good. I thought that only the Cursed were suffering. But my Kati, she wasn't Cursed. She just loved a boy. They loved each other. That's not a sin. It's not a Curse. They didn't deserve what Mother did to them."

As Lerah stood there and listened to Belinda describe the slaughter of those two young souls, a sickness and anger began to rise in her stomach, and for the first time she began to doubt whether she and Dominic could conquer such entrenched evil. If the people of Reeman were indoctrinated to the point of cheering such heartless butchery, could they really be saved? Were they even worth saving? Perhaps it would be better to burn the place to the ground and just call it a day.

# 40

"He knows, he was telling you that he knows. Pull your head out of your ass and let's get the hell out of here." Lerah stood by the bed in her panties and protested.

Dominic stood by the front door, rubbing his temples, trying to fight off a headache. "No, Lerah, I wouldn't be standing here if he knew. He was simply marking his territory, that's it. Now, can we please go?"

"I can't believe that you, with all of your supposed expertise, can't see it."

"Can't see what?"

"Just... everything, every damn thing feels off to me. There are too many unknowns. We should be pulling out, not charging ahead."

"Too many unknowns?"

She flopped down on the bed, her arms falling across her thighs. "Yes, and I don't just mean Zach. It's these people, how many of them even want to be saved? The lady I was working with today, she reminded me of my grandma. But she stood there telling me about how her and her husband would cheer for the slaughter of those that violated Scripture. It's a big event around here. It's when everyone gets to let their hair down. They get together and holler like wild animals while a couple of poor souls get disemboweled and pitched over a cliff. We're really trying to save this place? Let's burn it down and leave."

"We knew about the Fall before we got here."

"Do you really think you can just flip a switch and turn something like that off?"

"Men do it after war, all the time."

"Do they? Or do they just cage the beast up until they need it again?"

The look on her face made it obvious she was talking about him: the bar, the inn, the settlement. Had he flipped a switch? Was the beast always there, waiting in the wings? "Either way, these people aren't running around massacring each other in the streets."

"Only because Mother hasn't told them to."

"No, you don't believe that. What about Blake and his wife?"

"What about them?"

"Do you think they're that feeble minded? That Mother could just raise her fist and they'd break out the blade?"

"I don't know. I don't know Blake. I don't know his wife. And the thing is, neither do you. I had a different picture in my head before we came here."

Dominic sighed and slid down the door. "And what picture was that?"

"These people aren't miserable. No one is beating them with a whip. They're here because they want to be here, Mother was right. They believe in this Creator and the horrible shit written in Scripture. What are we freeing them from?"

"Maybe they aren't in shackles and chains, but they're being lied to. What if the only reason they're doing the awful shit they're doing is because someone fed them that lie? What happened to you and your sense of duty?"

"I'm all about following orders. That hasn't changed. But the picture on the ground has changed, and I think we need to alter our approach accordingly."

The floorboards squeaked as Dominic pushed himself back up. "Your thoughts have been noted, but ultimately, I'm in charge. I make the calls. Nothing changes. We push forward."

"You're such a stubborn jack ass!" Lerah bounced up to her feet and began tugging her pants on. "You can't take input from anyone. It's your way or no way. Fine, but when this goes to shit, right before we both catch a bullet in the head, I'm gonna be sure to say, _I told you so_."

There was a heady anticipation as the three of them—Dominic, Blake, and Lerah—sat in a circle waiting for Zach to show. Riley and Judith were in the corner, on the other side of the dining table, playing with some of Judith's toys. Riley glanced over occasionally, her face showing signs of distress; perhaps Blake had filled her in on the details of their little meeting. The guard hadn't kicked down the door yet, Dominic took that as a positive sign.

"He's screwing us, he's not gonna show. We're sitting here just waiting to get nailed to the wall." Lerah was antsy, her arms folded across her belly.

"He'll show, trust me. He wants revenge. But more importantly, he wants the throne; I could see it in his eyes."

"If you're just gonna put him there then do me a favor, just leave Mother in charge. At least we've grown used to her particular brand of psychosis."

"One step at a time, Doc. We need him to help us. That means making certain concessions."

"And getting us all killed," Lerah mumbled.

Dominic ignored her.

There was the faintest sound of a knock at the door.

"That's a new one," Blake said as he stood to answer it. "He usually sounds like he's trying to bust it off the hinges." He pulled it open and allowed a slightly breathless Zach to slide inside.

"We can't be too long. I don't want no one noticing I'm gone," Zach said, watching the door like a spooked dog.

"What do you mean you don't want anyone noticing?" Lerah was watching the door now too.

Dominic stood. "You said they wouldn't notice you missing."

"Someone saw us talking last night and they ratted me out. Mother sent Toby over to give me a little message on her behalf. They reminded me that I got a whole other set of fingers to lose. They said if I wanna keep them then I need to be keeping to myself. So whatever ya'll are planning to do, you better get to doing it."

Dominic felt slightly vindicated by the fact that Zach hadn't squealed when his back was to the wall. "Your brother paid me a visit today as well."

"What'd he say?"

"Pretty much the same thing. He lacks a certain subtlety."

"He ain't never been one to hide his intentions."

"Then it sounds like we need to wrap this up pretty quick before the wrong people come knocking," Dominic said.

Lerah was focused in on the door handle. Her lips were ajar. Her eyes were pinned open. The only sign of life was the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Dominic snapped his fingers. "Lerah, you with us?"

"Yeah," she shook the cobwebs from her head, "let's get this done."

"So, the service takes place the day after tomorrow?"

Zach nodded. "Yeah, just after sundown."

"It's the same day and time every week," Blake confirmed.

"Okay, Zach tells me it's going to be pretty light in terms of manpower. One guard with a rifle and then Toby with his hand cannon; should make for two guns total." Dominic looked to Zach for endorsement.

Zach nodded. "Yeah, that's always been my experience."

"It'll be dark, so we should have no problem making our approach. We go in strong; we catch Toby and the other guy with their pants down. The goal is to take that platform without firing a shot. We don't want the guys working the wall coming in after us, that'd be a mess. We secure Toby and his backup, Zach tells his story to a captive audience, and that's that. Doc, do you have a gun?"

"Yeah, but the only thing it's good for is stopping small animals."

"Doesn't matter, folks don't tend to think about the caliber of the bullet when there's a gun in their face."

"Am I just supposed to roll in there unarmed?" Lerah asked.

"Stay behind me. Once we secure Toby and the guard, you can take one of their guns." It was obvious Lerah wasn't a fan of the setup, but she relented and went back to staring at the door. "Blake, you're gonna stay on the main door while Zach, Lerah, and I take the stage."

"I can handle that. What are we going to do about the guys working the night Watch? They're still going to be armed and dedicated when we come out of there."

Dominic knelt down and began tracing lines on the floor. "How many?"

"Five or six," Zach said. "We'll have a lot of the day crew in the sanctuary, but they won't be armed."

"Well, there we go. Once we've got them on board, it shouldn't be a problem swaying a few stragglers. After that, we take Mother out of commission and a new dawn rises on Reeman."

"You three really think it's going to be that easy?" Lerah addressed them as if they were children running around with sticks and capes.

Blake shrugged and deferred to Dominic.

Zach said nothing.

"Lerah, you know, not everything has to go sideways. If we're playing the odds here, it's about time something falls in our favor."

"That's what this is based on, the odds falling in our favor?"

"You know what I mean."

"Listen, if you are just planning on arguing then I need to get back to my post before folks come looking for me. If they find me they find ya'll."

"He's right, we'll all be screwed," Dominic said, disconnecting from Lerah. "We'll meet back here tomorrow night, just for a few minutes to make sure we're all on the same page. Think you can swing that?"

Zach nodded, already at the door. "Shouldn't be a problem."

"Good, everyone be sure to keep your eyes up and your mouths shut. We're almost there."

Lerah's attitude didn't improve once they were home.

"You know it's going to be okay, right?"

"I don't know anything and neither do you." She smoothed the blanket out on the bed and kicked her pants off before sliding under the covers.

"This is the best way for us to walk out of here."

"No, it's the only way because it's your way. I'm just along for the ride. You've made that abundantly clear more than once on this journey."

"I've gotten us this far."

She sighed and rolled to her side. "That you have, Dominic. That you have."

"What is that supposed to mean."

"It means you should probably sleep on the floor tonight."

"With pleasure."

# 41

Belinda was late, again.

It was obvious to Lerah now that Belinda was always going to be late. She didn't think much of it anymore. In fact, part of her was grateful. She hadn't been able to rid her mind of the image of Belinda and her unnamed husband drooling over the disemboweled bodies of Mother's victims. Just because the poor old bitch had fallen victim to her own machinations didn't eradicate the sins of her past; to hell with her and her tales of woe. Lerah didn't feel bad for her anymore. Over the past twenty-four hours she'd managed to draw the venom of sympathy from her bleeding heart and seal it over.

Besides, Lerah knew her way around the greenhouse well enough, she didn't need anyone holding her hand; a little pruning, watering, and massaging, how hard could it be? Belinda tried to complicate things with philosophizing and cooing and coddling every little stem and leaf. Lerah couldn't picture any circumstance under which she'd find it necessary to coo at a plant the way one might an infant.

She went from plant to plant, plucking and watering, just the way Belinda had shown her. She was quicker, more efficient in her craft. Belinda paused every few feet to wince and grab at her lower back, or to hold herself up by the table as she caught her breath. She was just an old, broken down, bag of bones, yet still capable of so much evil.

_A snake is still a snake, no matter the color of its scales. These plants might be the only thing in this whole settlement worth saving._

Outside there was a gunshot.

Dominic saw Belinda coming up the middle of the street carrying the varmint rifle. He didn't think much of it at first, and judging from the way folks were greeting her, neither did anyone else. It's only when she stopped in the middle of the square and shouldered the rifle, with the business end pointed towards Mother's house, that people took notice. The cries from the street below echoed up to where he stood. He was stuck in place, not quite sure what to do. He was a member of the Watch. Did he intervene to ensure his cover was maintained? Did he let this woman attempt to do his job for him?

The crowd in the square was growing by the second. Every time someone tried to close the gap on Belinda she'd turn the gun on them and they'd stumble away.

Dominic was running towards the ladder. His plan was to get down to street level and decide from there what action to take next. But before Dominic entered the square, another guard planted a round in her stomach, deciding for him. The force folded her up and sat her down. It was the worst kind of kill shot; slow and painful and sure.

Dominic charged into the crowd, shoveling his way through to the center. Belinda was bleeding out; a puddle of thick red syrup flowed across her lap and clumped up in the dirt around her. She was moaning and coughing blood. Her body shook as she attempted, once more, to raise her weapon in the direction of Mother's house.

"Put it down, it's over." Dominic emerged from the crowd. He had his gun trained on her, just in case she decided to swing her rifle his way. He didn't want to shoot her, but the idea of getting shot sounded even less appealing.

More men from the Watch appeared at Dominic's back. They were fanning out quick, their fingers curled across their triggers, a firing squad.

"Don't any of you shoot. You hear me? I've got this handled."

"She's still an active threat!"

"Mother is in danger!"

"It's a varmint rifle. She'll be lucky to crack a window. I've got this handled."

"No," the crowd parted as if it were on a timer, "I've got this handled." Toby made his entrance, silver revolver extended, the hammer already falling. The bullet took half of Belinda's face with it. The crowd went silent as her body settled and the rifle rolled from her fingers.

"I had it handled." Dominic stared down at the pointless carnage, barely able to keep the top secured on the boiling pot of rage brewing inside him.

"Didn't look handled to me," Toby said, hocking back a ball of phlegm and loosing it on her corpse. "An attempt on Mother's life, there ain't no talking someone down. You get a bullet."

"You're an answer to prayer, Toby. Thank the Creator you were here." Old lady Harriet, the old woman that had previously welcomed Dominic and Lerah, stepped from the crowd and pressed her face against Toby's gut. A round of light applause followed her praise.

"Ah, now, it's nothing. I'm happy to serve. Ya'll get on about your day now; we got a little clean up to take care of." Toby drew up close to Dominic, pressing a familiar finger against his chest. "I better never hear you giving these boys orders again. They was doing their jobs. If you're too chicken shit to pull the trigger, say so. But don't you ever put Mother's life in jeopardy again, you got me?"

Dominic exhaled, licked his lips, and met Toby's glare with one of his own. "That's the second time you've put hands on me. I know you're king shit, I respect that. But I'd advise you to keep your hands off me from now on. You might not get them back next time."

Toby set the muzzle of his hand cannon beneath Dominic's chin. "You still haven't learned your place."

Before Dominic could react, there was a disturbance at the back of the crowd, someone wailing.

Toby shoved Dominic aside. "Damn it, it's her husband."

The man rattled limply through the dispersing crowd. He fell to his knees beside his wife's body, his arms extended. It looked like he wanted to hold her, but there were pieces of her scattered across the ground, bloody chunks coated in sand. "We did everything. We did everything you asked of us!" His spittle flew through the air, landing dangerously close to the toes of Toby's boots.

"Robert, you need to just calm it down. Your old lady came out shooting. Any attempt on Mother—"

"We did everything! We gave our daughter for this place!"

Toby aimed his pistol at the top of Robert's head. "Robert, you need to calm down and get away from that rifle."

"Go ahead, you fool! Shoot me!" The man got up on his knees and pressed his forehead against the mouth of the barrel. "Come on, do me a favor, shoot me!"

"Give me a reason, old man." Toby seemed to be pleading for the opportunity.

Robert sat back on his heels, shedding silent tears. "You want a reason?"

"I'd love one."

The man dropped his face against his wife's chest and sobbed into her shirt for a moment before gathering his emotions and kissing the good side of her face. "I'm sorry I brought us here," his voice was barely a whisper, but his words carried in the electric silence. He fell back on to his butt and put a few inches between himself and the corpse of his bride. As he sat there, staring up into the void of Toby's pistol barrel, his right hand crept towards the rifle.

"Don't do it. Don't give him a reason," Dominic was begging him.

Robert couldn't hear anything over the sound of his wife's broken corpse. He wrapped his hand around the stock of the gun and began pulling it towards his lap. A few seconds later a bullet blew his skull apart, sending squishy shrapnel flying in four different directions. Toby stood over the body and pumped two more rounds into his chest for good measure.

Old lady Harriet, once more, stepped forward from the crowd. "Here, use my rag, it's fresh, I just took it off the line yesterday."

Dominic had seen enough for one day. On his way back through the crowd he bumped into Lerah.

"Still think there's anything here worth saving?" she asked, refusing to look at him.

He remained silent and kept on moving. He didn't have the energy to battle Lerah. Even more than that, he didn't have the energy to tell her she'd been right.

# 42

"There are good people here. Me and my family, we're good people." Blake sat in his chair.

Lerah was looming over him, a finger in his face. "You're good people? You've let this shit go on and you dare to call yourselves good people?"

"Stop with the language in front of my kid."

Judith and Riley were playing in their corner, acting as if they couldn't hear the argument. "Answer the question. How can you claim to be good when you let stuff like today happen right outside your front door?"

"What would you have me do? Go out there with my varmint rifle? You saw how that turned out."

"You could have done what we're doing right now. You knew the truth about Zach and Toby. You could have worked to bring Mother down, just like we're doing."

"And risk my family in the process?"

"You'd rather have them live out their days here?"

Blake shook his head. "I'd just rather they live. I don't want to lose them. Can't you understand that?" His voice shook as he watched his wife and child laughing and sliding toys back and forth across the floor.

Dominic stood by the front door, checking the window every now and then for some sign of Zach. He didn't feel the urge to pull Lerah off of Doc. Hell, after today, he saw her point. How could someone live like this? How could they allow their family to live like this? Doc was a coward, plain and simple. He didn't have the courage to do the hard thing, so someone else had to come in and do it for him.

Lerah gave up and moved to where Dominic stood. "Any sign?"

"Not yet, but he'll be here. He's gotta find the right moment to break away. I'm not worried and you shouldn't be either."

"This whole damn thing has me worried. You can't tell me that you weren't shaken today. You saw those people just standing there, watching their neighbors get torn apart by that cackling buffoon. They didn't even flinch. They clapped. That's what I was trying to get you to understand, these people don't want saving. They're just as bad as Mother. You're a violent man, Dominic, I know that, but you don't go around killing without cause, you don't kill for sport."

Dominic nodded and stamped a boot heel against the floorboards. "I reckon you're right. Toby went a little overboard. There was no reason to break leather over an old woman with a varmint rifle."

"A little? And her husband, what the hell was that all about?"

"Can't really blame him, his wife got massacred and he couldn't stop it. It'd have been a heavy burden to carry and most folks don't have the shoulders. Didn't you say their daughter took the Fall a few days back?"

Lerah nodded.

"So he had nothing holding him here. It'd be checkout time for me too; go down shooting."

"He didn't get a shot off."

"I don't think getting a shot off was the point."

"So you've seen it now. We're on the same page. What are we still standing here for?"

Dominic tilted his head towards Judith and Riley. "If we leave, there's a chance this scheme gets out in the open and they get dead. You may be right, there may not be much here worth saving, but there's something. As long as there's something, I'm not leaving."

Lerah huffed and dropped in beside him, placing her back against the door. "Why can't you just be the bastard I thought you were?" She nudged him with her elbow, the glow of a smile cracking through the stone exterior she'd been building over the past two days.

"One of the Saboteurs greatest strengths is surprise."

Something heavy walloped the door, bowing it inward and sending Lerah flying to the floor.

Dominic came off the wall, scrambling for the varmint rifle on the other side of the room.

Blake was so damn startled he went toppling backwards in his seat as his wife and daughter shrieked and huddled together in the corner.

There was another wallop.

The door came down like a drawbridge. Three guards flooded the room with their rifles up, all of them shouting commands. Dominic raised his hands and turned to face them. The varmint rifle was on the ground at his heels. Reaching for it would be suicide.

Toby came strolling into the room behind his men, aiming his pistol from the hip. "Go for it, new blood. Give us a reason."

"Afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you for the time being."

"You should have taken the shot, you're not going to get another," her voice entered the room before she did. "How many more sheep is the Union going to send to the slaughter?" Mother's fingers were poised as she entered the room. Her white robes sailed behind her. Tremors erupted around her eyes like thousands of tiny fireworks.

It seemed that Zach had fucked them after all. She knew who they were. They were securely in her grasp. There was no use in tiring themselves out trying to break free. It was better to save their strength and their dignity; they'd probably need it later.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lerah rolled on to her back, sitting up on her elbows. "We have nothing to do with the Union. We told you what happened to us and where we came from."

Toby hopped forward two steps and sent the toe of his boot crashing into Lerah's face.

"You sonofabitch!" Suicide or not, Dominic charged. He didn't get very far. Two of the guards stepped in his path and planted the muzzles of their rifles against his chest. He stopped and slowly backed away, watching Lerah as she writhed on the floor. Her face was already swelling as she coughed and spit blood. "You're going to get yours, just wait."

"Anytime, new blood, anytime."

"Soon, it'll be real soon."

"Shut up, the both of you," Mother said. She offered Lerah the hem of her robe. "Wipe yourself off dear."

Lerah turned her head away.

"Very well. Just so all of you are aware, there's no use in lying. You'll only bring yourselves more pain." Mother moved deeper into the room. She stood over Blake. He was still on his back, still in the chair, legs spread across either side of the seat. "And you, you continue to deceive me, even after the chances I've given you."

"Mother, I've never deceived you. I've always been faithful."

Toby delivered a kick to Blake's ribs.

"No! Stop! You promised you wouldn't hurt him!" Riley stood, holding Judith in her arms.

"Wait... you did this?" The firing squad still had Dominic sighted, practically begging him to move.

"Riley... no..." Blake was clutching his side as he corked his neck and took his wife in through watery eyes.

"I told you, didn't I? I have eyes everywhere." Mother seemed pleased with herself.

"Baby, I did it for us." Riley wiped her eyes with one hand and held Judith with the other.

"It's true Blake, she did it for you. You see, Riley came to me about Micah and Susanna. Your wife was scared for you, for both of you. She told me how those Union heretics had been manipulating you for months, told me that you were scared for your lives. She said that you'd grown desperate and that you were actually conspiring with them, using some nasty rumor about me and my sons. She made me promise her that I wouldn't hurt you. I kept that promise, against my better judgment. I allowed you to prove your faith and remain a part of this community."

"Oh, what did you do, Riley? What did you do?" Blake tried to scream, but the pain in his ribs put a lid over his voice.

"I'm sorry baby, I did it for us. I did it for Judith. I was trying to save you. Can't you see? We have a good life here. We're safe."

"You killed us, lady, you didn't save anything!" One of the guards whacked Dominic in the gut with his rifle.

Mother continued. "It's true, Blake, this woman tried to save you. I tried to save you. And for a moment, I thought I'd succeeded. Yet, here we are again. You're working with the Union heretics, again. Even worse, you managed to corrupt my son. It's funny how the Union just seems to keep coming to you. I'm not a believer in coincidence. But I do believe in design."

Zach hadn't fucked them after all. Dominic felt bad for doubting him. "You know, Mother, all this manpower seems excessive. Are you really that worried about some little rumor? Unless of course... it's not a rumor." The pain in his side was just beginning to fade, he was just starting to get his breath back, and right on cue the guard popped him again.

Mother stepped gracefully around the top of Blake's head. She drew a small knife from some hidden compartment in her robes and began twirling it between her fingers. "Even the smallest flame can ignite a kingdom."

"It's gonna ignite something, just you wait," Dominic coughed. "You think threatening to throw us off a cliff is going to shut this down? You've got a surprise coming. I'll shout this shit in the streets. Before I'm dead every one of your ass licking followers will have that spark you fear so much floating around in their heads." Dominic's legs were kicked from beneath him, a boot heel was planted against his chest, and a rifle barrel floated inches from his face.

Mother fell to her knees beside Dominic. She began rolling his shirt up, just far enough to reveal the wound on his belly. "I'm curious, how did you really come by this?"

He winced as she began to pull the bandage from his skin.

"Leave him alone," Lerah's words were muffled by the swelling in her mouth.

"Ah, I think the girl cares for you," it was a whisper, a cold sort of empathy.

Dominic couldn't see what Mother was doing, but he could feel her fingers, like the scurrying legs of an unwelcome insect, working the border around his wound. "Listen, let's talk. Don't do anything stupid. This shit doesn't have to go any further. We can just walk away."

She pushed the tip of the blade into the wound, twisting it back and forth.

Dominic cried out and he hated himself for it. He never liked giving his torturer the satisfaction of reaction. He clenched his teeth, groaning as the blade probed deeper, tearing flesh that had begun to heal. He could've reached out and snapped her arm in two, but he had no doubt that the moment his fingers locked around Mother's wrist a bullet would split his forehead.

"Stop it! We'll do whatever you ask, just stop it!" Lerah was stuck in purgatory, somewhere between standing and sitting, her attention divided between Toby's pistol and Dominic's torment.

"This girl, it's not just an act, is it?" Mother wasn't taking the blade any deeper and she'd stopped twisting. "My instincts tell me that you care about her as well, yes?"

He began to shiver as the sheet of sweat that'd broken out across his body cooled.

She gave the blade a little jerk and sank it in another quarter inch. "I asked you a question."

"Yes, damn it, yes! I care about her."

"Then you'll take what I'm about to say very seriously. If you so much as utter a word about me and my sons, I'll have her skinned alive in front of you. Do you believe I'd do that?"

"Yes! Yes, I believe it."

She slipped the knife delicately from his belly and wiped the blade clean on his pants. "Good, then we shouldn't have a problem. You can let him up. Shoot him if he tries anything."

The guard removed his boot and backed away from Dominic, still hungry for blood.

"What'd you do with Zach? He still breathing?" Lerah came to her feet; she looked like she was holding a mouthful of water.

"He's still kicking," Toby said.

"We'll deal with Zach in due time. You should worry more about yourself, you little heretic." Mother stood over Blake, her hands on her hips, the knife still in her grasp. "As for you, Doctor, what are we to do? I need you to stand up."

"Why? Why do you need me to stand?"

Toby kicked him again, with the same boot in the exact same place. "Because she asked you to, now get up."

Dominic was almost positive he'd heard a rib crack.

"Please stop, Mother! You promised you wouldn't hurt him. You promised," Riley wept.

"Hush!" Mother aimed her dagger, lowering the point towards Judith. "What happens next is the will of the Creator."

Blake came to his feet, wobbly, hunched over to one side, his hands compressing the spot on his ribs where Zach's boot had made impact.

"Do you know Scripture, Doctor?"

He tried to speak, but heaved forward instead, as if he were about to puke. Mother jumped back to avoid any potential splash damage. It was a false alarm. Blake straightened back up—sort of—and nodded.

"How well do you know it? Can you quote me chapter and verse? If I were to speak them, could you discern the words of the Creator from my own?" She lifted his chin with a fingernail and searched him with frenzied eyes.

He gave a weak nod.

"Then you are familiar with the book of Syr, the fifteenth verse and the ninth Lament?"

All of the pain seemed to disappear from Blake's body. He jumped aside and put himself between Mother and his family. "No, you can't! I won't let you!"

"Wait, what's going on right now?" Lerah backed towards Dominic.

Toby didn't try to stop her. His attention had been drawn elsewhere.

"It's not going to be good," Dominic said, grabbing her elbow and pulling her the rest of the way.

" _Hear me, children of the new world—this day I give you a new command, that thou shalt love me. He that says he loves me, but does not follow my commands, is cursed. And his sins shalt be on his children's head and their children's head and the heads of the generations to come. For I make it so. Selah."_

"No! No! It's me, not them, it's me!" Blake held his arms out to either side, as wide as they would go. He danced back and forth, attempting to shield his family. "Dominic... Lerah... help me! You said you came here to save us, then save us!"

"We've got to do something," Lerah whispered.

Dominic was lost. Out of moves. Anything he did would get all of them killed. "Mother, I don't know what you're planning to do, but—"

"That's right, you don't know. So stand there and watch. If you speak again one of my men will saw your lady's feet off and salt the wounds."

Dominic took Lerah and hid her face beneath his embrace. "I don't think you're going to want to see this." Dominic locked eyes with Blake and watched as the final threads of hope began to unwind. In war it was often the ones without the guns that got the worst of it. He'd seen it too many times. It never got any easier.

"Toby, move the Doctor."

Blake swung and clawed and screamed. Toby extended a hand and retracted it. Blake was like an animal that wanted, desperately, to stay in its cage. Toby stepped back, holstered his pistol, and charged in. He hit Blake square in the chest with his shoulder, pinned his arms at his sides, lifted him from his feet, and slammed him to the floor.

"Don't hurt them! Don't you dare! Please, please, please, don't hurt my family! I'm begging you!" Blake shook, vibrated, and wiggled, but he was no match. Toby just laid there on top of him and laughed. Blake, the man, had melted away. Now he was just a helpless boy, sitting in the center of his room while the bad men worked their way around him, picking apart his toys, taking those things he held dearest.

"Do it!" Mother commanded, the third guard—the only one not pointing a gun at Dominic and Lerah—began making his way around the table

"What? Wait? No, you can't! You promised us! Not my girl!" Riley slid to the floor, attempting to take cover behind the dining table.

"Riley, Judith, I love you! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Help us, somebody, please!"

Dominic watched, nuzzling into Lerah's hair. "It'll be over soon," he whispered.

The guard circled the table, moving foot over foot, already lining up his targets.

"Go Judith, run!" Riley shoved Judith under the table, prodding her towards the door.

The guard fired. The first round pierced Riley's chest and bounced her off the wall. Her mouth gaped and her eyes went wide, as if something had surprised her. She began trying to suck air, a ragged tune played somewhere deep in her throat. The second round hit her in the neck and sent carotid spray leaping across the top of the table. The third round scalped her and shut her eyes for good.

Judith was beneath the edge of the table, tears spilling from her eyes, staring at the open door.

"Go, Judith, go!" Blake cried.

Mother reached down and grabbed the little girl by her hair, coiling it good and tight around her fingers, before yanking her from her hiding spot. She stepped behind her, straddled her back, and forced her to her stomach. "Look at your daddy. Go on, look at him."

"Let her go! I'll kill you! I swear that I'll kill you!"

"Don't look Lerah. Whatever you do, don't look." She began to shake in his arms.

"Tell her you're sorry, Doctor."

"Let her go!"

"Daddy... she's... hurting... me..."

Mother forced Judith's head back. The little girl squealed. The arteries in her throat pulsated against the taut flesh. "Tell her."

"I'm so sorry... sweetie... I'm so sorry. Don't be afraid, okay? Just look at Daddy. I love you so much. Just look at me."

"Yes, just look at Daddy," Mother parroted before slicing Judith's throat open and letting her head flop limply to the floor.

There was a wet splash, a small gurgle, and the sound of Blake's sobbing filled the air.

# 43

Night had turned to morning and morning had turned to night. The light under the door had shifted from right to left like hands on a clock. As the day wore on they could hear the settlement going through its paces. Laughter and conversation entered the room like sounds from another dimension; completely surreal considering their circumstance.

Toby had dropped in at one point to gloat and mock. He'd spun tales of the pain and horror they were going to face. He'd cackled and kicked at the bars with the sides of his boots. He'd gotten rather worked up when his antics failed to elicit a reaction. Dominic had just sat there, holding Lerah, staring through Toby, staring through the wood and the brick, his vision falling across a vast mirage of open plains. There were so many things he could have done differently, so many diverging paths he could have taken; none of them would have led to this place. He could have kept on through Karaville. But bloody justice and a pocket full of coin were his weaknesses. He always figured they'd land him in a coffin or a cage, he just didn't imagine the process would be so elaborate.

After Toby left and night fell the settlement went silent.

Zach had one corner of the cell to himself. He'd been quiet most of the day. Quite an accomplishment considering the beating they'd put on him.

Dominic sat propped up against the back wall, cradling Lerah in his arms. She'd been drifting in and out of sleep. The swelling on her face had gone down and deep purple bruises had set in. Her tongue was split on one side. Crusted blood lined the outside of her lips. Dominic thought about trying to clean her up, but he was afraid to touch her face. She'd been resting peacefully, despite the pain, and he didn't want to upset the balance.

The bulk of the noise came from Blake. It'd been close to twenty-four hours since the cell door slammed home and the key turned in the lock. He'd remained in the center of the room, curled up, wailing into the floorboards. Who the hell could blame him? Even during the war Dominic hadn't seen that level of darkness. It was always bullets and shrapnel. It was quick. It wasn't macabre and ritualistic. Blake had experienced a level of hell that few had been to.

Zach, who'd been sleeping since the sun went down, rolled on to his back and pushed himself upright. He grimaced and held his breath as pain surged through his body. "No need for all that moaning and groaning, Doc. You'll be seeing them soon, believe that. Come tomorrow, we'll all be nothing more than torn skin and broken bones."

"Shut the fuck up. If any of us have earned the right to cry, it's that man. You didn't see what he had to endure." Lerah wasn't sleeping after all.

"My family is about to slice me and dice me and toss my ass off a cliff. You don't see me carrying on."

"Save the sad story, they aren't even your real family."

"Don't make the fact any less painful, lady."

"Oh yeah, how many people have you done the exact same thing to? How many of them have sat where you're sitting?" Lerah slid up Dominic's chest and squinted towards the sound of Zach's voice.

"Couldn't tell you, I lost count," he spurted a sick little laugh.

"Piece of shit, you're the only one in here that's got it coming."

_We've all got it coming, in one way or another_.

"You keep telling yourself that, lady. Just because old Doc Scroggins didn't dig the knife into them don't make him no angel. His words are what sent them to their graves, every last one of them."

Lerah stumbled a bit before finding her verbal footing again. "Yeah... well... you just need to leave him alone."

Dominic was tired of hearing the back and forth; if he had to die he wanted to have a little peace and quiet beforehand. "Listen, Zach, whatever crimes that man has committed, he's paid up; let him be."

"I should have never gone along with ya'll. I knew you'd be trouble. I should have just taken my stripes and gone on about my life."

"Well, you didn't. Shut up about it."

Zach cursed under his breath.

Blake continued to blubber away in the middle of the floor.

Things were about as peaceful as they were going to get.

"We must really be screwed," Lerah said softly.

Dominic set his nose against the top of her head. "What do you mean?"

"Normally you'd be firing up a plan right about now, telling me how we're going to be okay. But it's not going to be okay, is it?"

"I'm not gonna lie to you, it's a tight spot. Even if we could get out of the cell, there's the gate, the walls, the guards, and the guns. I'm tapped on ideas."

"No hope is better than false hope."

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you earlier. I should have gotten us out of here."

"It's not like anyone held a gun to my head. I chose to stay."

"We had some fun though, right?"

She laughed. He could practically feel her blushing. "Yeah, we had some fun."

"I'm glad I met you, Lerah."

She lifted her chin and kissed him, her fingertips brushing the scar on his face. "Me too, Dominic."

Throughout his life he'd found himself fighting on the behalf of so many pointless causes. He'd protected the interests of bad men. He'd bled for coin and pride... dust and air. At the end of it all he'd managed to come away under his own power. Now, for the first time, he'd found something worth protecting and fighting for, and he was powerless to do either; perhaps his penance had finally come due.

"I'm not letting that crazy bitch slit me open."

"We don't know what's going to happen, no need to think about it right now."

"It's the perfect time to think about it."

"Let's just wait until the time comes, we'll figure it out."

"No, because when the time comes we won't have the power to do anything. I'm not going to be one of her victims, standing out there bound and helpless, at the mercy of whatever twisted thirst happens to be parching her tongue. We figure it out, here and now."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"I don't know. I was hoping you had something."

"I'm not exactly one for throwing myself on the sword. I've always been the type of guy to go down swinging."

"You didn't exactly put up much of a struggle back at Doc's house."

"I didn't want to give them cause to hurt you or Doc. If it was just me I wouldn't be sitting here right now. They'd be in the ground or I'd be in the ground."

"Sorry to interrupt your last stand."

"Yeah, well, shit happens."

"I only see one option," she said, her eyes shimmering up at him in the darkness.

"Do tell."

"They open that gate and we fight like hell. We make them shoot us down, maybe even take a few of them with us."

Dominic pursed his lips and nodded. It was a good plan. Hell, it was the only plan. "That could get messy."

"You got anything better in mind?"

"Can't say that I do."

"Alright then, it's settled. When they open that gate we fight." Lerah sat up and curled her legs beneath her butt. Her eyes were now set on the door, as if her captors were due to come through at any moment.

Zach decided to break his vow of silence. "Ya'll are some crazy, stupid—"

"If you want to sit there and die like a sheep, that's on you," Lerah said.

"That's good by me; I lived like a lion."

"You mean prowling around, mauling the innocent?"

Zach laughed. "If ya'll fight, you better pray they kill you. If they get you down and you're still alive you're gonna be begging for a slit belly."

Before the possibility of such a horrific outcome could truly sink in, the door bounced open and recoiled off the wall. A round figure stood framed by the silver moonlight. Both of his arms were loaded down with rifles. "Ya'll ready to get out of there?" Jeb stepped into the room.

It was such a sudden turn in the tide that even Blake sat up and took notice.

"What the hell are you doing?" Zach used his good hand to pull himself up the bars.

"I'm getting your asses out of here, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Why? What's your play?"

"Ain't no play. Like I told you before, there's layers to things."

Dominic and Lerah were up in seconds and standing at the cell door, right along with Zach. It took Blake a few seconds to join the mix; he was quiet and woozy, but seemed just as eager to leave.

"How many guards?" Dominic asked.

"There were eight, now there are seven. I killed one to get my hands on these." The cell keys dangled from Jeb's right hand as he crouched down in front of the lock. "Mother is speaking right now, talking up the Fall. I was just in there. There are four guys with guns in the sanctuary, plus Toby." He turned the key and peeled the door back, handing each of them a weapon as they filed out.

"So that makes five guns total, plus crowd control. Lerah, it's up to you. I promised I'd get you out of here. Do you want to leave or do you want to see this through?"

"I don't care what she decides, I know what I'm doing," Blake said, speaking for the first time in almost a day. He pulled back the bolt handle on his rifle to make sure there was a cartridge in the chamber.

"I'm with you, Doc. What they done to you wasn't right," Jeb said.

"I reckon I'm going over to the church with them," Zach was lacking a significant portion of Jeb's conviction.

"It's on ya'll, we sure could use two more guns," Jeb said.

"This is what you wanted, right? To see us stand up and fight for our settlement? Well that's what we're doing. We could still use a hand," Blake said.

Dominic nodded and looked to Lerah, the final call rested with her.

"Fuck it, we're in."

# 44

Dominic, Lerah, Blake, and Zach turned right out of the lockup. They were moving in a single file line beneath the rampart. The guards overhead were slowly clunking back and forth, making brief conversation, and spitting over the side of the wall to pass the time.

Jeb made his way casually up the main street towards the square. Despite not being on duty, no one was going to pay him any mind. He was a senior member of the Watch, if he wanted to grab a gun from the gatehouse and go on patrol no one was going to question it.

Dominic's group came up behind the church and began moving along the side of the building towards the front entrance, where they planned to rendezvous with Jeb. Dominic led the team, low and slow, hopping between the flickering squares of candlelight being projected on to the ground by the windows. Blake was at his back, followed by Zach. Lerah took up the rear, turning circles and checking for any hostile movement on the ramparts. The moon was sheltered by cloud cover, leaving them mostly concealed; all they had to do was keep their steps quiet. Mother's voice echoed from inside, cracking like distant thunder in the darkness. Her gears were spinning at full speed, her tone pulsating with jingoistic instability.

At the front corner of the building, Dominic raised his hand and they all took a knee. He watched as Jeb casually moved down the center of the street. He whistled and tapped his heels as he walked, skipping a step every now and then, he seemed downright jolly. Dominic didn't know if it was an act, or perhaps it was some strange ritual he put himself through before every armed confrontation. Dominic knew a guy during the war that used to burn his wrists before each battle, "As long as I can still feel that shit, I know I'm alive," he'd say.

"One of us should stay on the door. Once them shots start ringing out it's going to attract a fair bit of attention from out here." Jeb was standing with his back against the front of the building, speaking from the left corner of his mouth.

"Well it should probably be you," Dominic whispered from the darkness. "Maybe you can spin something up and talk them down."

"I can try. No guarantees."

"I'll leave someone with you, in case things get hot."

"I'll stay," Lerah volunteered.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I've got the training, I should stay."

Dominic nodded. "Alright, but you stay hidden unless things go ass up, got it?"

She gave him a quick peck on the mouth, even though it must have hurt like hell. "Got it."

"Blake and Zach, you're with me." They shuffled around Lerah to the front of the line. "Give me the run down, how're these bastards stacked?"

Jeb's jovial façade had shifted into one of paranoia. His head moved along with his eyes, scanning up and down the street. "You're gonna have two on the door, left and right, as soon as you go in. You're gonna have two more on either side of the room. Toby is going to be standing in front of the stage."

Dominic closed his eyes and drew a quick map in his head. "Shit, that's a lot of crossfire. It's not ideal, but it can be done."

"You gonna kill her?"

"You see any alternatives?" Dominic asked.

Silence.

"Alright then," Dominic said. "Are we clear to move?"

"I got you covered."

Dominic rode the corner with Blake and Zach at his heels. They crept behind Jeb and huddled together at the doors. Dominic leaned in, whispering, "I'll take right. Blake, you go left. It's got to be quick, don't give them time to react. Zach, stay by the doors, you're not going to be much of a match on the trigger with that bum hand, no offense. But people are going to try to run, discourage that notion, don't shoot them unless you have to."

"What about Toby?" Zach asked.

"I'll be on him before he can break leather." Dominic removed the magazine from his rifle and checked it, even though he could feel in the weight that it was fully loaded; force of habit. "Blake, Mother keeps breathing until we get what we need out of her. After that, she's all yours."

"I can live with that."

"We all set gentleman?"

Clenched jaws and silence, shifty eyes and sweaty palms; it was all the answer he was going to get. These men were formless. They were soft. They'd never aimed a gun at something that was aiming back. They'd, no doubt, talked it up in their heads, but it wasn't the same thing as doing it. The real thing was quicker and more absolute, there was no time to think, you didn't get to pick the man standing beside you, you just had to trust he could aim straight and pull the trigger when the occasion called.

"Jeb, get the doors behind us."

"Good luck ya'll."

Dominic braced his right shoulder at the center of the double doors and counted off in his head. When he hit three he threw all of his weight forward. The doors burst inward, meeting a small wall of resistance before continuing their journey. His vision narrowed. He saw his first target sprawled face down on the floor in front of him, scrambling to get back to his feet. Dominic put a round in the back of his head. Less than a second later he heard a shot go off behind him. He hoped it belonged to Blake. Dominic raised his sights. His second target was right where Jeb had said he'd be. The bastard was quick—quicker than most, at least—he already had his weapon halfway up his shoulder when Dominic sighted him. The shot wasn't perfect. It blew through the top of his chest and burrowed into the wall behind him. It wasn't enough to take him off his feet. Dominic readjusted and put the second one below his left eye.

"Don't you think about it! Don't do it! I'll blow you away!"

Toby raised his hands above his head. He was outmatched but not defeated. "You just bought yourselves a whole new level of pain."

"I'm gonna check with you in five minutes, see if you still believe that." Dominic rounded the pew and manually disarmed Toby, sticking his revolver in the back of his belt before bringing him down with a kick to the back of his knees.

Blake was coming around the other side. Dominic hadn't heard him down his second man.

The doors were secure. Zach was standing guard, waving his gun at the herd of settlers encroaching on his position, the stock of the weapon tucked beneath one armpit.

"Sit down, all of you!" Dominic's voice echoed against the high ceilings, adding weight to his commands. "This is your only warning before we start shooting people. We've got enough bullets to go around."

Old lady Harriet shambled from the crowd. "This is the Father's house. You've got no right." She was pointing a finger, as thin and delicate as a dead twig. Her old age had made her brave, perhaps too brave.

Dominic waited until she was close enough, then he rolled his hand into a fist and hit her in the jaw with everything he had. He felt the brittle bone shatter. She spun like a top, twice, and dropped to the floor, splitting her head open on the wood. It was harsh, but it worked. The flock slowly began slinking back into their seats.

"You have no idea what you're doing." Mother was the calmest of them all. She hadn't moved. Even with the bullets flying and the crowd going wild, she'd remained behind the pulpit, steadfast, her hands folded neatly at her waist.

"Judging by the four bodies, I'd say we're feeling our way along just fine," Dominic said, hopping up beside her. "Get on your knees." He grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her down.

Lerah heard the guards racing towards their position.

"Those were gunshots!"

"Fan out!"

She was watching Jeb from the shadows. He didn't seem concerned. He just stood there beside the door, whistling, tottering from foot-to-foot.

"Jeb, your Watch ended hours ago, why aren't you inside?" The leader of the pack held his fist up, halting the five man team behind him; they all took a knee and stared, mouths open and chins up.

"It was getting a little stuffy in there. It's a nice night. Figured I'd take in some air and help you boys keep an eye on things."

The man lifted his nose, as if sniffing for something he may have missed. "It feels no different than any other night, and we're eight men deep, we've got a full crew."

_Seven._

"Ah, well, you know, can't ever have too many willing hands."

"We heard gunshots."

"Really? That's strange; I didn't hear nothing over here. I'm sure it ain't nothing to worry about."

"I hear gunshots, I get worried."

"I'll let ya'll know if I hear something."

"It'd be better if we took a quick look inside."

"Nah, now, you know Mother don't like anyone coming in late." Jeb took a step to the right, centering himself with the doors.

"I think she'll understand, given the special circumstances and all."

"It's better if you and your boys just wait it out here, let her finish."

"It's not your call."

"As the senior man here, I think it is."

"That ain't how it works; my Watch, my command."

Lerah heard shouting coming from the direction of the lockup. There was a man running and flapping an arm above his head. She only caught the last part of his proclamation, "... gone!"

_Shit!_

"Slow down, what the hell is it?"

"The prisoners, they're gone. Jeremy is in the gatehouse, dead. Guns are missing too."

The leader dropped back and took aim at Jeb's chest. "Step aside, last chance!"

Jeb stared into the void of the gun barrel as if he were watching a sunset, all peace and tranquility. "You're making a mistake, son."

"Now that we have your attention, there are some things you need to hear." Dominic and Blake stood on the stage with their rifles trained on the congregation. Some of the more capable men in the crowd were leaned forward with their hands braced on the backs of the pews in front of them, their fingernails changing from red to ghost white as they clenched and released, staring over the tops of their eyelids.

"Don't listen to this heretic. They have defiled this sanctuary. Their fists are raised against your Father... against me, His prophetess. I command you to act. I command you to seize them."

"Yeah, go ahead, try that. I'll shoot the first one of you that pulls their ass from their seat."

"And I'll shoot the second," Blake added.

Folks exchanged glances, daring each other, but none of them moved.

"You see, Mother, they don't give a shit about you or your invisible friend. They give a shit about safety. Self preservation trumps all; I would think a woman in your position would have realized that by now."

"We love Mother, we love the Father!"

"You might have the guns, but you boys ain't gonna make it out of here!" One of the burly fellas staring over the tops of his eyelids pounded the pew in front of him with his fists.

"Before any of you do anything regrettable, please, listen. We've all been deceived by Mother and her sons," Blake said.

"Do not listen to Doctor Scroggins, or this man. They are conspiring against Reeman. They are Union scum."

"We don't need you breathing for this, Mother. One more word and I will pull this trigger." The cold metal barrel of Dominic's rifle kneaded the nape of her neck.

"You take that gun off her!"

Blake fired a shot into the big man's shoulder, knocking him back into his seat, screaming and bleeding.

"Anyone else wanna try?"

When the gunshot from inside pierced the night air, the battle was on.

Jeb was fast on the draw, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid two bullets from being pumped into his chest. He fell back against the sanctuary doors, aiming from the hip. He buried his finger against the trigger and strafed the targets in front of him as he struggled to keep his footing. The leader of the pack was the first to go down, followed by the man that had sounded the alarm on the jailbreak. The rest of the guards scrambled for cover. One took a bullet in his right leg as he dove towards a pair of copper ringed barrels. He was dragging himself through the dirt when Lerah ran to the corner of the building beside the church, knelt, and put a second round through his skull.

She turned to check on Jeb. He was on the ground, still propped up against the door, a considerable amount of blood staining the surface behind him.

"It's the damndest thing, just the damndest thing," he kept reciting the mantra as he changed out magazines and bullets whizzed past his head.

Muzzle flashes lit up the square as men popped in and out of cover, working slowly to advance their position. Lerah used the flashes to find her targets. She was lenient on the trigger, with only one magazine left to spare, she didn't want to run out of bullets before she ran out of bodies. She squeezed twice and a strangled scream announced that she'd found her mark.

"There's another shooter! We've got another shooter, west corner of the building!" The proclamation was followed up by a series of bullets ripping into the surface in front of her face.

She took cover, temporarily blinded by dust and shrapnel.

Jeb drew their fire. His aim faltered as the strength leaked from his body. Every shot he took sent the gun leaping towards the sky, but the spectacle was enough to distract the rest of the men from Lerah.

She snapped out of cover and let off another volley. Two more screams pierced the night. Two more targets down. She ducked back in and began changing magazines, her hands were shaking, and the blood was pumping in her ears.

Jeb had slumped to his side and his rifle was on the ground beneath his belly.

It was just her.

Dominic wasn't there to save her this time.

_There should only be two left. You can do this, damn it!_

"You hear that? Even now, the Father's justice is swift." Mother leaned into Dominic's gun defiantly as the battle outside raged.

Dominic's heart beat a little faster; he was all nerves and sweaty palms. His first thoughts were with Lerah. Each rattle of gunfire brought him a little bit of comfort, as long as it continued he knew she was okay.

"Should we help them?" Blake asked, breaking him from his trance.

Dominic shook his head. "No, we've got our job and they've got theirs. We've got to hold up our end."

"Ya'll should run while you can. Once our men come through that door, you're finished," Toby said. His words were aimed at Zach.

"You're done! You and Mother, you're standing over your own graves right now," Zach shouted from the back of the room.

"Your own kind... you turned your back on your own kind for the Union?"

"My own kind? Ya'll had me chopped up and tossed aside, there ain't no love between us."

"You think that was something? Just wait, when we get out of here we're gonna chop you up good and proper, finish the job right."

Zach raised his gun, it was wobbly, but he had every intention of pulling the trigger.

"That's enough," Dominic's voice filled the room, "you're not here to squabble with him, you're here to tell these people the truth, so get on with it."

It took a few seconds for the fight to leave Zach. Through gritted teeth, he spoke. "I'm afraid ya'll have been deceived. Mother ain't no prophet and me and Toby ain't sons of the Creator. Hell, Mother ain't even our real Mother."

A series of gasps resounded throughout the room. People began twisting back and forth in their seats, as if they were checking for a resemblance between Zach and Toby and Mother, seeing the truth for the first time.

"It's all lies. The boy will say anything. He's hungry for vengeance," Mother objected loudly.

"It's not a lie." Blake stepped to the front of the stage. "You all know me. I've grown close with many of you. You've sat at my dinner table. You've included me in the most intimate moments of your lives. I'd like to believe there is a trust between us."

"We heard about you, Doc. Heard you were a traitor working for the Union," one woman spoke up, clinging to her husband.

"Yes," Mother said, "a traitor that got his wife and his daughter killed. Do you really want to place your trust in a man that sacrificed his family?"

Blake winced, the words slicing into his back, opening up fresh wounds.

Dominic knelt down and brought his lips to Mother's ear. "I've warned you. My patience is gone. One more word and I won't bother with trying to convince your flock of my story. I'll blow your head off right now and let the chips fall where they may."

She was a proud woman, and an intuitive one; Dominic knew she hadn't attained her position through stupidity. She didn't hold his glare long, just long enough to tell him that her compliance wasn't out of fear, but necessity; she had more to do, more to say, and a bullet to the brain would interfere with that agenda.

"My family was killed because of Mother's secret, not mine. She's the real traitor. She's been lying to you, to me, since the beginning. You remember Micah and Susanna?"

A few nods followed the question.

"They were Union. They took the Fall because Mother thought they knew her secret."

"They were cursed!"

"Were they? Think about that for a moment. They were together eight months, not twelve. Mother lied to you because she knew you'd follow blindly, like we've been doing for years. She didn't tell you who they really were because of how it would've looked. She didn't want you knowing that Union had been living right under her nose for months, undetected. She didn't want any of you asking questions."

"We came here looking for Micah and Susanna," Dominic added, "they were Union; Blake is telling the truth." The gunshots outside were slowing, the space between each pull of the trigger was growing larger.

"There was no miraculous inception," Zach said.

"Conception," Blake corrected, "it's miraculous conception."

"Yeah, whatever, we ain't her sons. She came through our settlement after it was burned down during the war. She claimed us as her own. She started going on about us being her miracle children. Said she got a message from the Father about how we were meant to be her sons. She said the Creator willed it. She fed us a story to recite, about her being our mom, whenever folks asked us. In exchange she said she'd take care of us. Said we'd inherit her power when she was gone. Then she started writing that Gospel she's always reading from. That wasn't no special find. That was Mother's hand, cover to cover."

A woman stood, there were tears rolling down her cheeks. "Toby, is it true?"

Toby considered the guns. He considered the men holding them. Perhaps he even considered the fact that the battle outside was dying down, yet no one had come to his rescue. "Yes ma'am, yes, it's true. But there's something ya'll need to consider."

She stumbled back into her seat, one hand gripping her chest.

Soon the room was roaring with conversation and cries of disbelief.

"Nah, listen, ya'll need to consider something, what we did, it was for the best."

"I don't think they're listening, Toby," Dominic said.

The center window on the left side of the room shattered. Those sitting on the outside of the pews ran for cover. Within the shower of glass was Lerah. She bounced off the ground and slid to a stop. A man appeared in the window. He leaned through the broken frame with a rifle aimed at Lerah's back. His face was pulped; she'd done a hell of a job working him over before he'd gotten the upper hand. Dominic kicked Mother to the ground and pinned her there with a knee. He wasn't worried about sparing ammo. He wasn't worried about precision. All he saw was Lerah and her reaper. He compressed the trigger and the gun coughed to life. The man in the window was thrown violently against the left side of the frame and impaled by large shards of glass. One of them went straight through his cheeks, locking his mouth open in a perpetual state of surprise.

The crowd was churning, irritated by the sudden explosion of violence.

"Blake, Zach, control them!" Dominic ordered.

"Everyone stop moving!"

"Sit your asses down!"

Lerah dragged herself up by the arm of one of the pews. Blood flowed in wide sheets from her cheeks and brow. Her shirt was now thin strips of fabric. Her torso was covered with cuts and blood. The left side of her pants was cut straight down the middle, from thigh to knee. "So, that's what it feels like to go through a window." Lerah gripped the pew in front of her and spit something wet and red on to the seat.

"Was that the last of them?"

She nodded.

"Are you okay?"

"It probably looks worse than it is. That bastard got the jump on me; I got a few good hits in before he put me through the glass."

"I can see that. How's Jeb?"

"He's shot up. He took a few with him."

Dominic sighed. "Okay, grab that gun and hang back. We're almost done here."

She could barely keep her balance. She stumbled to the window and tugged the rifle from the dead man's grip.

Dominic pulled Mother back up to her knees. "You've heard the truth, from all three of these men. You've been deceived. We're here to offer you freedom. The Union wants to unite these lands—"

"The Union? You want us to join the Union?" Even with a bullet in the shoulder, the burly man was on his feet again, waving his fist.

"The Union burned my settlement. They killed my wife and my kids. It's the reason I had to come here in the first place. I'll never join you people; do what you will to me." The old timer was calloused and gray; it'd take more than one bullet to move him.

"They killed most everyone in my settlement!"

"Union shot me and killed my parents!

"They raped my little girl!"

"Ya'll ain't no better!"

Blake tried to plug the leak before the water got too deep. "Listen to me; I sympathize with all of you. But surely, you can't want this. We've been deceived. People that we've known and loved have been executed over self serving lies. The Gospel of Multiplication, the Creator, Mother as His divine prophet, it was all a lie; they were her words and her hands, nothing more. You can't want that."

The guy with the bullet in his shoulder was still going strong. "Why can't we want that? She's kept us safe, hasn't she? We've got food, water, and shelter. I know I sleep sound at night. It's better than being out there. At least in here, with Mother, I can see death coming. I know where I stand with her." The man turned to address the crowd. "I don't know about the rest of ya'll, but I ain't joining these people. They ain't got enough bullets to stop us all. Let's take back Reeman, are you with me?"

That was all the encouragement the crowd needed. They rose from their seats and began to push forward.

Dominic yanked Mother up by the hair, aiming his rifle with one hand. "Get back, all of you! Get back or I'll kill her!" Dominic began moving off the stage, followed by Blake. He was circling to the left side of the room. "Everyone shift to the right!" He fired a shot into the ceiling. "I'm not going to ask again, move your asses to the other side of the room!"

"You heard him, you want to get shot?" Blake was like an old man with a cane, poking and prodding the crowd.

"Zach, open that door. Lerah, lead us out of here."

The crowd was sufficiently riled and looking for a fight, but three rifles locked on their position was enough to keep them at bay. Yeah, there wasn't enough ammo to go around, but no one wanted to risk being the first to catch a bullet.

"You're never going to make it out of here." Mother's voice trembled as Dominic pulled her along by her hair. "Let me go and maybe, just maybe, I can call them off."

When Dominic got to the door he let Blake and Lerah file out first. "I better not see any of your faces outside of these doors. You wait until we're gone. First face I see, I shoot, and then I shoot Mother."

"Just who in the hell—"

Dominic gunned the man down where he stood, three bullets, right to the center of the chest. He fell to the ground, stone cold dead in a matter of seconds. "Anyone else?"

The rage still hung thick in the air, but the will to act on it had been drained.

"Good. Pull the door shut behind us."

Zach nodded and followed him out, yanking the double doors tight before turning to join him. "Where are we going?"

"We're not going anywhere," Dominic said, pulling Mother along behind him like a badly behaved dog.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're not going. We're leaving; your ass is staying here."

"These people will kill my ass."

"Your problem, not mine."

"Bullshit, I helped you. I helped your girl. Without me, ya'll would be dead."

"Our goals aligned, nothing more. You're a sadistic piece of shit, that hasn't changed." Dominic turned his back on Zach and rounded the bend. Lerah appeared by the front gates, waiting for him. Blake was inside the gatehouse working on getting them open.

"Kill him son! You kill him and you're safe, the Father will forgive your sins. It'll be just like it was before."

Nothing chilled the blood quite like the sound of a round being chambered into an unseen weapon. "Not another step, Union boy!"

Dominic puttered to a stop. He took the slack out of Mother's hair, wrapping the excess length around his wrist and ignoring her pain ridden protests. "You really want to do this?"

"You're not giving me much choice." Zach was only aiming with one hand, but the distance between them was small, a blind baby could hit the shot.

"I gave you plenty of choice. Stay here, maybe you live. Maybe you don't. But what you're doing right now, well, that's not leaving me much choice. Are you catching the drift of what I'm saying?"

"Drop your gun and let Mother go!"

"Afraid I'm not going to be able to do that."

"I'm not gonna ask again!"

"Alright then, let's do it the hard way." Dominic sank low. As he came down he turned on his heels, he cranked Mother's head back and used her body as a shield. Zach panicked and fired at the sudden movement. The rounds blew through the top of Mother's body and exited just above Dominic's head, drenching him in fat chunks of bloody flesh. He released her hair and shoved her towards Zach. She stumbled and fell across the top of his rifle, forcing it towards the ground as it let loose its next bark. Dominic sent a bullet soaring right through the bottom of Zach's jaw. It swam up through his face and lodged somewhere behind his right eye; the pressure blew it out of the socket. Zach hung there for a second, with Mother slumped over in his arms. His mouth was a black hole filled with broken teeth, his right eyeball dangled, leaving little red smudge marks as it rolled back and forth on his cheek. Then he fell, taking Mother with him. They lay intertwined on the ground, lifeless, her face against his chest.

"Dominic, come on!" Lerah shouted at his back.

He looked up and saw that the congregation had left the church. They were stampeding towards him, called to action by the gunfire. Toby was out front, along with a couple of other men. They cradled weapons that they'd retrieved from the dead fingers of their fallen comrades. They were stopping every few feet to pop off shots. Dominic started backing towards the gate, returning fire, and sending the herd diving for cover.

"Come on, Dominic!"

He turned and started to run as bullets zinged past his shoulders.

The gates were open.

Blake was crouched in the doorway of the gatehouse, engaging the mob. "Take Lerah and go!"

Dominic slid to a stop, flinching as a bullet buried itself in the ground next to his foot. "Bullshit, you're coming with us!"

"No, I'm not. My place is here. I want to be with my family, but first, I want to take as many of these bastards with me as I can."

"You're a good man, Doc."

He shook his head. "No, I'm not. So, you get your ass back out there and try for the both of us."

"Take care, Doc."

Lerah hadn't waited for him. She was beyond the gate and halfway down the hill by the time he made the exit. They didn't stop running until they reached their backpacks, until Reeman was just a distant shadow beneath the moonlight. The gunfire echoed beneath the neon sky for another half hour and then it fell silent.

"Doc put up a hell of a fight," Dominic said. His eyes were glued to the shadowy outline of the distant settlement.

"For whatever that's worth." Lerah was still breathing heavy, the adrenaline of battle still pulsing in her veins.

"Out here, it's everything."

# 45

They took turns, alternating watch duty while the other closed their eyes, but their rest was brief and superficial. Dominic found himself gasping awake, reaching for his gun, positive that they were being overrun. Lerah's body was a series of angry cuts and bruises, which made it difficult to find comfort on the hard bed of sand. The moon was still perched in the sky when they decided to give up on sleep and move out.

"What was the point in all this?" Lerah asked.

"Is that a philosophical question?"

"No, it's not. Here we are, both of us are beat to shit, people are dead, and we've got nothing to show for it."

Dominic shrugged. "That's how this sort of thing works. You'll get used to finding black holes at the end of the path. At least you've got some scars to show for it. You're not really a soldier until you've got scars."

"Yeah, all over my face and stomach, not my first choices."

He looked her over, sliding his jaw back and forth. "Yeah, I really liked your stomach."

"Oh, it's past tense now?"

He fell back a few paces. "Your ass is still in one piece, so that's good news."

"Oh, really?"

"Really, it's a great ass."

"Well as long as you're happy with it."

The narrow bridge stood below them in the distance, stretching across the great chasm. The path leading down through the rocks was just ahead.

Lerah took his hand. "Listen, when we get close to Genesis, you should split."

"I figured you'd at least wait a few days before trying to dump me."

"Dominic, that's not what this is and you know it."

"Do I?"

"Yeah, what the hell do you think this is?"

"I think it's you sparing yourself the indignity of being seen with an Outlander. I think this was all just some fantasy for you. You got to go outside and get your hands dirty. You got to play war and you got to fuck a member of the other team. Now it's dark out and it's time to go in and wash up."

"You're an idiot."

"What, then? You tell me. What is it?"

"I care about you. I care about you a lot, more than I've ever cared about anyone else, and I don't want to see you get hurt, okay?"

"I'm a big boy, Lerah."

"I know. You're god with a gun. You can kill a thousand men with a flick of your little finger, but I'm telling you, if you go back to Genesis they will lock you in chains and bury you under the foundation."

"So, let's not go back."

She shook her head. "What?"

"We can make a life out here, together." He wrapped his fingers through hers, desperately hoping to feel her do the same, but her hands just hung there in his grasp, like a prisoner that had given themselves over to the shackles. "Let them have their war, or whatever. We can put all of this bloody shit behind us and just be together."

She dropped her head and began trying to pull her hands free. "Dominic, I can't. My father... my life... I can't, I'm sorry."

"I get it. You're Union. I'm an Outlander. We've had our fun and it's over, back to reality."

"No, you're not listening—"

"Please, just call it what it is. Stop insulting me."

"You thick headed bastard, don't you get it? I care about you and don't want to see you hurt, but I'm not in a position where I can just leave my life and my family. I know you don't understand that because you don't—"

"I don't what?"

"That's not how I meant it."

"No, finish the sentence. I don't have any family. I'm just some lonely Outlander, worthy of a moment's pity and nothing more."

"It came out wrong, I'm sorry."

"No, forget it. You had your say, let's move."

"Actually, let's not move." There were two of them crouched near the mouth of the path leading down through the rocks. They were holding Lerah and Dominic in their rifle sights. Four more men moved up between them, fanning out to form a firing line.

One last man emerged from the path. He stood, blocking the mouth, a crooked smile on his face. "You two gave me a hell of a run."

Dominic pushed Lerah back and stepped forward. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you again, Monte."

"Likewise, I thought you were dead."

"Never trust a rumor."

"And now, here we are."

"Here we are."

"You know, I was quite disappointed when I found out that one of the finest Saboteurs I've ever known was running with the Union."

"It's not what it looks like."

"It looked pretty clear to me when I found my men butchered in that shithole inn."

"You sent them?"

"What did you expect? You know we've got eyes all over. You come roaming into a place like that, a blonde bitch on your arm, her skin as soft as lamb pussy, you think we're not gonna take notice? You know how we handle Union."

"Well, then I think the response you got was reasonable."

"Reasonable would have been your ass not being there to begin with; that's reasonable."

"Like I said, it's not what it looks like."

"Is she your wife? Did you win her in a poker game?"

Dominic shifted feet. There were no good options. Monte was one of the best Saboteurs he'd ever worked with. His pistol was still in its holster because Monte didn't need to get the drop on his target, death worked around his schedule. "She's not my wife. I just got mixed up in some shit at Genesis. They contracted me out to do a little arbitration. In exchange I got to keep my head and a purse full of coin. They're trying to unite the settlements. It's not a bad plan, Monte. We're trying to put a real end to this bullshit war."

Monte laughed long and hard. "Is that what you think?"

"No, of course not, but it's the pitch I was given and it sounded a lot better than a grave."

"You could have taken the coin and run. Is it her? The pussy? Have you been blinded by the sweet pink?"

"You leave her out of this!"

"You should have left her out of this. You should have sacked up and taken whatever punishment they were handing down. Instead you became their bitch. Wandering the Wastes, doing their business, you're a disgrace to every man we fought beside."

"Oh yeah, and what are you?"

"I'm a soldier, a Saboteur. I never stopped fighting for us, for our people. You think this shit you're doing is about uniting the Outland? About peace? No, it's about control. They're trying to buy our souls, one chest of coin at a time. It's the same war, just different weapons. Coin goes deeper than a bullet, you should know that."

Lerah stepped up, shoving past Dominic. "We're trying to make a difference. We're trying to bring people the freedom to live their lives to the fullest, absent struggle and fear."

"Nah, lady, you're just bringing them a different kind of struggle, a different kind of fear, one that you and your people can control and manipulate. Dominic, shut this cunts mouth before I do it."

"Lerah, step ba—"

"You don't get to talk to me like that. Do you have any idea who I am? Lerah Adams, daughter of Defense Minister Adams, you will show me some respect!"

Monte's eyes lit up and a smile dawned on his lips.

"Oh, Lerah, what have you done?" Tears began to sting the corners of Dominic's eyes.

"The Defense Minister's daughter, tell me more." Monte drew his weapon casually from its holster, the leather caressing every inch of the metal body.

"I... well... I..." Lerah realized her mistake, but it was too late. She'd just strapped herself to a target, and Monte was a dead eye.

"She's nobody; she can't get you anything I can't. Leave her out of this." Dominic was tucking her away behind his back, as if she were some shameful secret.

Monte raised the pistol and dropped the hammer. "Step aside Dominic, the lady is with us now."

"I can't let you do that."

"I never asked your permission. Listen carefully, shrug off the weapon and the bag, and step aside. If you don't move, I'm just going to drill you and take her. That goes for you too, missy. Shrug off that weapon and pack. Don't try anything stupid, Dominic here will tell you, I don't miss."

"Does he miss?" Lerah whispered.

"No, I'm afraid he doesn't."

Monte turned his head, left and then right, cracking his neck loudly. "Last chance, soldier."

Dominic inflated his chest and raised his chin, as if bravado could stop a bullet. "I can't, Monte. I can't just give her up." Dominic could beat most men on the draw, and if it had been anyone else he would have made a go of it. But Monte wasn't just anyone else. He was a Saboteur, just like Dominic. But Dominic had stopped fighting once the war was over, he was rusty. For Monte the fighting never ended, he'd never stopped breathing it. While Dominic wandered the Wastes, taking contract work for beer and cigarette money, Monte had kept his elbows in the trenches.

"Okay, I hate for it to go down like this. Nice seeing you again, Dominic."

"Wait! Wait! Don't shoot! I'll go!" She jumped in front of Dominic, arms out.

"No, Lerah, don't do this."

She turned, and as she kissed him, she slipped his gun and back pack from his shoulders, letting them fall to the ground beside her own. Her nose was against his, her hands on his face. "I'm taking the hit this time. It's my turn to save us. You come and you find me, got it?"

"Yes," a single pair of tears fell from his eyes, "wherever they take you, I'll come for you."

"I know you will." She kissed him again and let go.

It took everything not to hold on, it took everything not to pursue her. He watched her go, watched her walk into the arms of the devil. It'd been a long time since he'd felt helplessness.

Monte grew impatient with Lerah's reluctant approach. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. His fingernails dug deep into her skin. She gasped at the pain. "Oh, sweetheart, you're a mess." He came in close, scanning her as if she were some foreign object, sniffing her skin. "Let daddy clean you up." He licked one side of her bloody face, from jaw to cheekbone, cutting a slobbery path through the filth. "I can see why you like her, she tastes delicious."

"You got what you wanted! There's no need for that!"

Monte laughed and shoved her towards the line of men behind him. "You've shaken off a thousand bullets, but a single piece of ass brings you to your knees." Two of his men grabbed Lerah by either arm. She didn't struggle. She kept her head down and followed their lead. "I want you four to take her. Send the rest of the men up on your way down."

"So, what's to become of me?" Dominic asked, suddenly wishing his gun wasn't lying at his feet.

Once Lerah's head vanished down the narrow path, four men hiked up and took up positions behind Monte. "The same thing that happens to all soldiers, you're going to die bloody."

"Why the ceremony? Why not just get it over with?"

"I didn't want to upset the girl. I didn't need her running around here, kicking and screaming. It's better to keep her calm, keep that hope alive. It'll make for a much more peaceful journey."

Dominic nodded. "That's a good play."

"Thank-you."

"So, this is what it's come to between us?"

"I didn't choose it. You chose it when you decided to join forces with the enemy and cut my boys down. Hell, Dominic, if I knew you were alive, I'd have recruited you. But you went off the grid."

"It was intentional."

"See, and that's the shame, right there. You abandoned your brothers and the cause."

"Sometimes you get tired of smashing your head against a wall. Sometimes you've just got to go over or around."

"No, I go through it." Monte turned his gun sideways and slanted it towards the ground. "Get on your knees."

Dominic shook his head. "I'm fine standing. How do you think all of this is going to end? All you're doing is starting another war. Settlements will burn. More of our people will die. Is that what you want?"

"It's what has to be. They aren't backing off. It's either surrender and let them go over us or stand up and fight back."

"I've started to see a third option in all this."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"That there is a certain victory in defeat. I've got to believe that somewhere, between the shit the Union is spouting and the shit you're spouting, that there's some sort of happy middle. A place where we can all get a little bit of what we want and live without the bullets and blood. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of seeing people I care about die screaming. I'm willing to sacrifice a little on my end if it means putting an end to that."

"She really did get to you, didn't she? You love that bitch, don't you?"

"Hey, don't call her that!"

"No, no, you love that bitch. Guys," he gave one of his men a swat to the gut with the back of his hand, "he really loves that bitch. Did you get between those thighs?"

"Stop talking about Lerah. She's none of your business."

"You did! You tasted Union pussy. Was it sweet? She has infected every last inch of you. Her juices are practically pouring out of your eyes. We're doing you a favor, putting you down. You are a sick puppy."

Dominic was ready to get it done. He was ready to get bloody. He dove for his weapon. He was moving slow, so damn slow. There was never any hope of getting his finger around the trigger. He was outgunned, five to one, on open ground. He was up against one of the best Saboteurs there ever was. Nah, he never stood a chance. But damn it if he wasn't going to make them work for their dinner.

The sound of gunfire didn't surprise him. He expected it. He figured after the first couple of shots everything would go black. But he was still alive, still sucking sand, still able to feel the sun on the back of his neck. He'd been shot before, many times, and it hurt like hell. He should have felt something: a sting, a pinch, a cold fire swelling in his bones. The gunfire stopped. Then there was the sound of brass clinking against brass as the shell casings settled. Then silence.

Finally, he dared to look back in the direction of his executioners.

It was the Union, a whole pack of them.

They stood above the bodies of Monte and his crew and they had him sighted. "You make a move towards that gun and you're dead!"

"Relax chief, you just saved my ass, I've got no intention of drawing down on you."

"What's your name?"

"Dominic."

"Where's Lerah Adams?"

"They took her. I thought you guys would have come across them on your way up."

The man glanced back over his shoulder, squinting towards the horizon. "Get him up, bind his hands. We've got a long a trip back so we need to get moving."

"Wait, you're not going after her?"

"We don't have enough men to form an adequate rescue party, our orders were to retrieve and bring both of you back."

"Well, you haven't retrieved her!"

"We don't know what direction she was taken in or how many men they have waiting. We're bringing you back to Genesis and the Lord Marshal can decide the course of action."

"I just told you what direction they went in." They bound his hands behind his back, collected the packs and guns, and shoved him towards the path.

"Move, and keep your mouth shut, you've got a lot to answer for. I'd start thinking about what you're going to say."

Struggling and arguing would bring him no closer to Lerah. He knew if he kept it up they'd just make the trip as miserable as possible. It was best to comply and get on whatever good side they had available. Perhaps he could talk them into stopping for a drink and a pack of smokes along the way. He was in no hurry to find out what was waiting for him back at Genesis.

# 46

"It was a simple task, Dominic." Hause pounded the top of his desk.

"Simple? I wouldn't go that far." Dominic shifted. The hard backed chair, combined with the zip ties plaguing his wrists, didn't make for comfortable seating. Every time he moved the two guards standing over his shoulders brought their hands towards their weapons.

"For a man of your skills and a woman of her talents, yeah, it should have been simple."

"You weren't there. These people cared about one thing and one thing only, their survival. Mother could have been a fish with legs, but as long as the walls held and they slept peacefully at night, they would have been okay with that. The idea of joining the Union is what set them off, something about you people burning their homes and killing their friends and family."

"It was war, ugly things happen during war."

"March up there and feed them that line, see how it goes over."

Hause shook his head. "We're past the point of talking. Besides, my scouts tell me that it's now a fortress run by a bunch of disorganized idiots."

"I suppose that's better than a fortress run by a bunch of organized idiots."

"Here I am, getting ready to have you tossed in the deepest, darkest hole in the Wastes, and yet you still find a way to make light of the situation." Hause stood and came around his desk, sitting on the corner closest to Dominic.

"Smiles don't come easy these days, I've gotta get them where I can."

"You know what I'd like to do right now?" Hause held an arm out, folding his hand into a fist. "I'd like to punch you right in the face. Not in the nose, I don't want to break anything. I just want to punch you in the fucking face."

Dominic raised his chin. "Have at it." Hause was quick, but he lacked the force to do any real damage. Dominic took the hit like a pro and played it up a little to make Hause feel good about his effort. "Feel better?"

"Much," Hause said, massaging his knuckles. "Looks like you ran into a fair bit of trouble out there."

"I did. So did Lerah."

"Including the conflict you had with my men?"

Dominic shook his head. "Let's cut the bullshit, who are you sending for Lerah? I need to speak to them. I know where they're taking her; the east coast, beyond the Glass Mountains. I know people—"

"That won't be necessary, I'm not sending anyone."

"What?" Dominic came up out of his seat and was shoved back into place with disturbingly little effort. "You have to. You don't know these men like I do. The things they'll do to her... you have to send people. She's one of your own."

"I think you'd have learned by now that I don't have to do anything. If you want to blame someone for Lerah's fate, look no further than the mirror."

"What did you expect us to do? Let those people get butchered? We didn't want to kill your men. It tore Lerah apart inside to have to do it. We were saving innocent lives. I thought you wanted to make peace with the Outlanders?"

Hause sighed. "Oh Dominic, you are a simple man, a blunt force instrument, nothing more."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that all of this is a balancing act. Do you know what would happen if the people of Genesis found out that the daughter of my Defense Minister, along with a Saboteur that I contracted, killed a group of their own? These men were fathers, brothers, and sons. Perkins has family scattered throughout the Towers, working in key positions. It'd be mutiny. They'd be knocking down my doors. So where does the blame go?"

"I can only imagine," Dominic said, spotting the finish line a mile out.

"I don't like it, I've never enjoyed lying. But, for the sake of the people, I've got to place the death of my men and the missing coin on Rebel heads. More specifically, I've got to place it on your head. They'll be calling for blood, and I've got to answer them."

"What does this have to do with abandoning Lerah?"

"It has everything to do with it. With Lerah gone and you buried under the Towers, it shuts the door on a very ugly incident, an incident that could throw this entire place into chaos. Besides, we can't afford the resources or the manpower to go hunting for one soldier."

"So, she doesn't get a chance to come back and answer for herself? You're just going to leave her out there to rot?"

Hause shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much."

Dominic jumped from his seat and was, once again, slammed back into place.

"Take him out of here. Throw him in the darkest cell we've got. Make sure Buddy gives him the special treatment." Hause sat back behind his desk.

"Come on, tough guy." The two guards lifted Dominic to his feet.

The office doors crashed open, heralding the arrival of Defense Minister Dan Adams. "Lord Marshal, my daughter, do we have word on my daughter? Men still haven't been assembled. Sir, the longer we wait, the farther away she gets. I'm ready to leave at once."

Dominic beat Hause to the punch. "He isn't sending anyone. He's going to leave her out there to rot." Dominic hooked the tip of his boot around the leg of the conference table.

"Lord Marshal, is this true?"

"Dan, don't listen to him, he's desperate to avoid the dungeons. Get him out of here, now!"

The two guards dislodged Dominic's foot. Dominic dropped his weight and dragged his heels. "I know where they're taking your daughter. I can get her back!"

Dan started towards Dominic. "Stop, I need to speak with this man!"

The two guards paused in the doorway and looked to Hause, conflicted.

"No, Dan, you don't. Guards, shut him up!"

Dominic felt something heavy split the back of his head, and the world dissolved.

Consciousness returned as the cell door clanked shut. Dominic's body screamed from the special treatment bestowed upon it by Buddy in the form of stiff knuckles and boot heels.

There was no light in the cell.

He dragged himself across the cold packed earth and through a bed of dirty straw. He hauled himself up the damp wall and sat there, trying to draw breath between the shards of broken glass filling his chest. He placed the back of his head against the wall, closed his eyes, and swallowed a mouthful of blood.

Lerah was out there, somewhere, waiting for him.

He'd find her.

He'd made her a promise.

If Dominic was anything, he was a man of his word.

**_—TO BE CONTINUED—_**

# Acknowledgments

There are a few people I wish to thank for making this book possible. Each of them played an invaluable role in the finished product. Thank you to my wife for listening to me bitch and moan my way to publication and for your constant encouragement. Danke to Ryan, for your honest and timely feedback. My utmost gratitude to Heath, for the website, you're a genius, sir, a friggin genius! Merci to my mom, for liking all of my Facebook posts when no one else would. Much obliged to all of my family members that will read this and tell me it's great even if they think otherwise, thank you for sparing my self-confidence. A special shout out to Yoly, at Cormar Covers, you probably won't read this, but you've got a customer for life (or until one of us decides to do something else).

And finally, to you, dear reader, all of my thanks! Without you, there would be no me.

Until next time,

J.V. Roberts

> **_P. S._**
> 
> Dear reader, if you'd like to know more about me and my upcoming books please visit my website.
> 
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## Contents

  * Title Page
  * Ebook Edition, License Notes
  * Also by J.V. Roberts
  * Dedication
  * sab*o*teur
  * Rebel
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  * Acknowledgments

