were.”
75
Mother Rose walked through the forest with Brother Alexi by her side. A hundred reapers followed forty paces behind them. Their newest “chosen one,” Brother Mako, walked in the midst of the crowd. He looked slightly dazed but very happy to still be alive. The other chosen talked and laughed with him, clapping him on the back, sharing stories with him. They treated him like a hero, like a brother or cousin who had just done something amazing that benefited the family. And it all drew Mako further into his new role as a chosen of Mother Rose.
This was how it worked, and Mother Rose was pleased. This kind of con was always her gift. Alexi, who had been a highly successful drug dealer for the Russian Mafia before the Fall, was also pleased. The best cons were always those in which the mark felt like he had made all the important choices, and that those choices were the only good ones to make. The world as it was might have ended, but a sucker was a sucker was a sucker.
The process was simple. Invite and include so a person feels like they are a part of something. Like they belong. It was the cement of loyalty; and on some level everyone in the Night Church understood this. It was never spoken about, but because each of them had been brought in this way, every one of them reinforced it with new recruits. Mother Rose knew that it allowed each person to justify their own decision to join. It was an infection of self-justification, and that was how it all worked.
“What do you want to do about the rest of Carter’s crew?” asked Alexi. “They’re hiding like rabbits around here somewhere.”
She waved a hand. “Who cares about them? If we have time later, we’ll see about recruiting some of them. Forget the rest. We’re past that now.”
“Hey, a runner’s coming in,” said Alexi, nodding at the woods to their left. They slowed their pace but did not stop, and Sister Caitlyn came out of the forest and fell into step beside them.
“Holiness,” she said, a little breathlessly, “we got a problem.”
“Tell me.”
“Saint John and Brother Peter just had a long chat with Brother Eric.”
“What kind of ‘chat’?”
“The bad kind. They hung parts of Eric from the trees,” said Caitlyn, her color bad. “The way they do when they’re serious about finding out stuff.”
They walked a few paces in silence.
Brother Alexi ground his teeth. “Eric knew damn near everything.”
“He knew a lot,” agreed Mother Rose. “But not everything.”
“How’d they tumble to us so fast?” asked the giant.
Sister Caitlyn shook her head. “I don’t think any of us went to him.”
“They could have had someone watching from the woods when we met at the shrine,” said Alexi. “Plenty of places to hide and—”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Mother Rose. “What does matter is that Saint John knows.”
“This sucks,” grumped Alexi. “I had a nice little timetable for working the new agenda into the army. Real subtle, too. I have a list of all the right people to talk to. The ones who could influence whole groups within the army. Damn.”
Mother Rose said nothing as they continued to walk toward the edge of the forest. Alexi and Caitlyn fell silent, but both of them looked disappointed and nervous.
Rebellion was fine, even imperative, unless they wanted to die young, which neither of them did, but going up against Saint John, Brother Peter, and the main body of the reaper army too soon… that promised a short and ugly future. Mother Rose’s insurrection was barely two hours old.
“We really screwed the pooch here,” said Alexi.
“No,” said Mother Rose. “We don’t need the army to take Sanctuary.”
“I’m not just worried about taking Sanctuary, Rose,” said Alexi. “But I have to admit that I’m more than a little concerned about Saint John hunting us with the main force of the reaper army. We have less than three hundred. Even without pulling in all of the legions from Wyoming and Utah, Saint John can chase us down with forty thousand knives.”
“Let him try.”
Caitlyn and Alexi stared at her. Mother Rose smiled as she let seconds fall all around them.
“But…,” began Alexi, but Mother Rose cut him off.
“He has numbers,” she said, “but we have something else. Don’t you think it’s time that the Shrine of the Fallen yields up its mysteries?”
A big, ugly grin bloomed on Alexi’s dark face. “Oh… yes. Long past time.”
Mother Rose placed her fingertips on his chest over his heart. “You know what to do, my love. Caitlyn and I will gather the rest of our chosen ones and march on Sanctuary. Take a dozen fighters and go to the shrine. Follow as quick as you can.”
Alexi took her hand and kissed it. Then he turned and began growling orders to twelve of the toughest chosen. Together they vanished into the woods.
Confused, Caitlyn asked, “Mother… what’s at the shrine?”
Mother Rose’s smile was small and cold. “A power that not even Saint John, with all of his power, can hope to withstand.”
With that she turned and signaled to her chosen, who followed her on the way to Sanctuary.
76
“Nix!” yelled Benny. “Get back!”
He shoved her out of the way and brought his sword up in a two-handed grip.
As Nix fell, the match winked out, plunging the room into total darkness.
“Match — match — MATCH!” shrieked Benny.
Suddenly another match flared, and Benny crouched in the corridor between the stacks of crates, sword raised, feet braced, ready to fight to the death to buy Nix enough time to get out and climb down to safety.
The zoms stared at Nix and Benny.
Benny backed up a pace, edging toward the hatch.
Gray eyes, milky and dead, were focused on the two teenagers. They moaned with aching hunger. A strange moan, muted and low.
And they did not attack.
Nix screamed once more and then stopped.
Benny stopped trying to back away.
The zoms stared at them with unyielding need, but they did not move.
And the moment held.
“Benny—?”
All Benny could do was stare.
“Benny,” demanded Nix. “What is — what is—?”
She fell silent too.
The zoms were still seated in their chairs.
Benny licked his dry lips and took a tentative step forward. Toward the zoms. Their eyes shifted to follow him.
The zoms themselves, however, did not.
They could not.
And now Benny could see why. They were all secured to the chairs by rope looped around their ankles,
