clean, nothing around except for a few skeletons. That was why they'd chosen to stop just up the road. The raiders were probably passing through themselves.
Linda only had a clear shot at the two men by Bertha's fuel tank, but she didn't dare fire in case she sent the gas up.
'Is there trouble Mistress Linda?'
Linda shushed Anna and waited for the men to finish.
When the two had filled their container they started to lug it back to the woods. Linda got the taller of the two raiders in her sights. Slowly she emptied her lungs, waited till her heart beat was regular and squeezed the trigger.
It was a perfect head shot. Daddy would have been proud. The bullet went clean through his right temple and took the left side of his head with it. Brains and blood burst out of his shattered cranium, framing it in a crimson halo. The man crumpled.
The second raider leaped with shock. He dropped the container and stared wildly around. He started to fumble in his belt for what looked, at Linda's range, like a Colt. 45. He never got it out. Linda had already made the shot and put two in his chest.
He jerked backwards and splashed down into a spreading pool of his own blood.
Bertha's passenger door flew open and Cortez charged out. Bullets smashed into the ground around him and ricocheted of the side of the truck. He turned and ran back for cover. Cortez slammed the door and the shutters went down, protecting the windows.
The armour plating would repel all but the highest calibre bullets. Greaves and Cortez were safe inside for the moment, but they were sitting ducks. They couldn't go anywhere with an empty gas tank and they couldn't see more than a few yards beyond Bertha in the moonlight.
They could use the headlights but that just made them more of a target. Chances were the raiders knew this terrain better than any of them. All they could do was sit tight till dawn.
Linda meanwhile could provide covering fire, picking off any of the raiders who might try and attack. If she was careful, night and the cover of the trees would stop them from making her position.
She paced around the edge of the bluff, looking for the best sight lines. She picked three separate spots that would allow her to cover the area surrounding Bertha. Then it was just a matter of waiting for the sun to rise.
'Please, Mistress Linda,' said Anna. 'You're frightening me. Whatever is the matter and what are you shooting at?'
Linda looked over at her. The poor girl looked more scared than ever. She was shaking while gnawing on her thumb.
'It's okay. Everything's going to be fine. There's a few men prowling round Bertha. Raiders who were trying to steal her gas and anything else they could get their hands on. I took care of a couple of them but Greaves and Cortez can't do much to defend themselves while it's still dark. Looks like we're going to be here for a while. Might as well make ourselves comfortable.'
'Took care of… you mean you killed them?' Anna looked horrified. 'That's a sin. That means… '
'I'm going straight to hell. Pretty much where I was bound anyway.'
'You shouldn't joke so Mistress Linda. We are on this Earth but a short time. Your soul will be tortured in hell for eternity.'
'Well it can't be a lot worse down there than it is here at present. Fact is, things have got so bad here who's to say we haven't all died and gone to Hell already? Maybe Hell's just opened up and annexed the Earth and everyone left on it.'
Anna was silent for a time while Linda scoped the trees surrounding Bertha through her rifle sights. 'Perhaps it is a sin,' said Anna, in a quiet voice. 'But I must confess I have wondered similar things myself, many times.'
'I think lots of people have. I'm no expert on these matters, but I don't think that's a sin. It's just hard to believe in a better tomorrow when all you dream about is yesterday and what you fear most is what you'll wake up to tomorrow.'
'But you've got to believe. Why, not to believe, that's the worst sin of all. Not because you cheat God, but because you cheat yourself. Without faith you can't be redeemed and without redemption there isn't any possibility of hope.'
'Wait a minute,' said Linda, scanning the trees below. 'You just said you thought you were in Hell. Where's your redemption there?'
'There isn't any redemption in Hell and that's how I know we're not in Hell. In spite of all my wondering, I still believe. That's not been taken away from me. I can still be redeemed. I can still hope. In Hell there isn't any hope, because you're never going to get redeemed, there's nothing to believe in. And in a way, Mistress Linda, maybe you are right. Maybe Hell has annexed, as you would have it, a bit of this world. Because I just realised you don't have to die to go to Hell. All you have to do is stop believing. Give up all hope and you are already there.'
Linda caught a movement in the trees. A pair of legs running. Nothing she could fix on or aim at. They were planning something, but what? 'You mean after all that stuff you've just been through with the Doomsday Virus, you still believe?'
'Even though I know I was made by men, using Lucifer's tools, to be offered up to some disease that can take over the world, I still have my faith. So I'm not in Hell. I have being praying to the Lord for guidance and He has delivered it unto me.'
'Good for Him. Let's hope He delivers us from this shit we're up to our necks in.'
'Your language is not becoming. And you said everything was going to be fine.'
'Yeah, well, that was before you got all religious on me. Now I'm the one needs reassuring.'
'You're going to kill again aren't you?'
'Only so we can stay alive. I know you might be bound for heaven, but right now, if I die, I haven't got the slightest hope of being redeemed. So I'm fighting for my body and my soul. Anyway I didn't think you Christians were against killing. Isn't God always striking people down and stuff?'
'I cannot speak for other Christians. I was raised in an Amish community, we are committed to a lifestyle of peace and non-violence. We don't believe you can positively resolve any situation using violence.'
'Which is cute,' said Linda. 'Until someone's busting to pop a cap in your butt. Then it kinda loses its appeal, 'cos it seldom works.'
'We don't choose non-violence because it always works. We choose it because of our commitment to Jesus Christ and the truths that he preached.'
There, down in the shadows, Linda almost missed him. One of the raiders was creeping up on Bertha from behind. It was a blind spot from inside. The raider was carrying something. She was too far away to tell what it was. It could be a grenade, or it could be a smoke canister.
That's right, thought Linda. Just a little further and you'll be in the moonlight. The raider took two more steps and she had a clear aim. She put two in his gut. He was knocked to the floor with his hands on his midriff. Blood pissed through his fingers as he tried to keep his stomach wall from falling out.
The raider was screaming in pain and calling out to his comrades. Linda could feel Anna wince without looking at her. Just as Linda hoped, his cries drew one of his companions out. The man bent down to pick up whatever the fallen raider had dropped. Linda caught him at exactly the right angle. The bullet tore through the top of his head and out the back of his neck, severing the spinal column. Death was instantaneous.
Unlike the poor bastard lying on the ground. He was writhing and jerking and calling out: 'Jesus fucking Christ help me you mother-fucker help me! Oh God you cunt, you cunt no, No, NO!'
'Speaking of other Christians,' said Linda. 'I bet that's not a prayer you Amish often used.'
Linda felt Anna's hand on her shoulder. 'Please, he doesn't have to suffer so,' she said and Linda could tell from her voice how much strength she was summoning to remain calm and gentle. 'Killing is wrong, but this is worse. I know you can put a stop to it.' She was right. No-one else was coming to help him. Linda was just torturing the wretch out of spite. Two more bullets answered the man's prayers.
'Mistress Linda, do not think me impertinent, but I have need to ask you a question.'
'Shoot,' said Linda. Then remembered Anna would not pick up the irony. 'I mean go ahead, ask.'
'Do you hate your father?'
'Doesn't everyone?'
'No. I loved mine very much.'
