“Oh, Lord,” called Herne. “It is said that a man such as you would one day come
to us. All our prayers and teachin’ is for that.”
“What does he mean, a man like me?” asked Henn.
The priest answered, pointing to the nuke-blackened Christ upon the tumbled
wall. “There is our tortured messiah. Never in our lives has such a man been
seen.”
“I knew it, Henn,” cackled Finn.
“What, stupe?”
“One day it’d be good news havin’ a black man ridin’ as my shotgun. Now it’s
come. These sons of bitches fuckin’ worship you, Henn.”
“IT’S TRUE, J.B.,” said Ryan, as they ate the last of the turnip stew and meat.
None of them knew what the meat was, and nobody wanted to ask.
“Henn a god, just ‘cos he’s black. I don’t believe it, Ryan.”
Ezekiel Herne had led them to the largest hut, and had ordered two women to feed
them and arrange their bedding. Ryan had made sure that the three buggies were
locked and that small contact mines were placed and primed. He also made sure
that the community knew it, so no one would tamper with the vehicles.
Hennings had been taken into another room and fed on his own. He’d protested
strongly until Ryan pointed out that these people were ready to worship him, and
if that meant free food and some guidance around the country, then being a god
for a few hours wasn’t such a bad thing.
After they’d eaten, the cadaverous priest came to them, sat crosslegged on the
floor beside Ryan and grinned at him with the worst set of rotten teeth that
Ryan had ever seen.
“You have brought such happiness to us here, my friend. You are blessed to be
the brothers and sisters of the Dark Lord. Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Sure,” said J.B. “Tell us, what happened to Anchorage? And tell us also, are
there any sizable towns round here?”
Herne’s brow furrowed. “Towns are the abomination of the blessed, my friend. Ank
Ridge, as we call it, was the Sodom of this barren desert. The seas rose and
those monsters that dwell in the deeps came and washed away all evil. There are
no towns left in all the world, friend. It is better so.”
“No other villes? No small villages?”
“Nothin’, my friend. There is the snow and the ice, both good things. A wind
upon the mount. Who would wish to die, my friend? Not while the Dark Lord is
here.”
“What do you think Henn is goin’ to do for you?” asked Okie.
“Henn, as you call him, is the chosen one, the awaited one, the one whose comin’
will make all right. As the books say, the sheaves shall be harvested and bound,
the chaff shall be winnowed, the blood shall give life.”
“Blood, Reverend?” asked Doc quickly. “What blood?”
Herne stood up, knee joints cracking. “All will be seen, friends, tomorrow at
dawn, when we gather to worship him as he shall be ordained.”
“Is Henn goin’ to be sleepin’ in here?” asked Finn.
“No.” Herne’s gentle smile sent shivers up Ryan’s spine. “The sisters wish the
honor of fucking the Dark Lord. He will sleep little, as the plow sleeps not in
the furrow.”
Okie sniffed and spat, then went to one of the low truckle beds and sat down.
The priest watched her, then moved to the door.
“We shall see you all on the morrow. One of the sisters will bring in a bowl of
punch for you to drink your fill. It will aid you at sleeping.”
He left, banging the heavy door shut behind him. Finn giggled. “That lucky son
of a bitch bastard, Henn. Gettin’ all that for free.”
A great crock of drink was brought in and set on a table by one of the younger
women. She was wrapped in black cloth from head to toe, and her face was veiled
so that only her brown eyes shone from under the cowl. Finn tried to get her to
talk, but she lowered her head and ignored him, leaving quickly.
“Can’t wait to get back to her Dark Lord,” Finn said, ruefully.