The rhythmic chanting changed to screaming as the slugs tore into flesh and bone. Three men and a woman flopped on the street, howling in pain. A man and a woman lay still, their faces torn apart by the 7.62 ammo. The crowd turned into a panicked mob, each person trying to shove the other out of the way, seeking refuge from the hail of automatic weapon fire. Behind Sam, men were racing in and out of the sporting goods store, throwing arm loads of goods into cars.
'Let's go!' Sam shouted. 'We're all out of time.' He burned the rest of the clip at the retreating backs of Satan's followers, dropping three more bodies onto the concrete. He changed clips and blew out a store window on the corner of the block, sending glass and brick chips and lead flying. The caravan was moving, tires protesting on the street as the small group of Christians raced away.
They slid into the parking lot of the big supermarket. Like the sporting goods store, it, too, had been closed. The front doors of the supermarket were shattered. Joe had blown them open with his slug gun. Cases and boxes of food and jugs of bottled water were stacked in front of the big store.
'Everybody!' Sam yelled. 'Out of the cars and start helping out.'
'We got what Father Le Moyne wanted from the church,' Joe panted. 'I heard shootin'. You get a few of them?'
'Half a dozen or so. 1 left the cops in the middle of the street.'
'Should have shot them,' Joe said with a grunt. 'Be three less to have to deal with later on.'
'I would have if the civilians hadn't been watching me.' Already Sam's mind was separating soldiers from civilians; warriors from recruits; noncombatants from fighters.
Then there was no more time for conversation as all bent their backs loading supplies into the cars and trucks of the caravan.
When they had loaded all they could, the caravan moved out. They were meeting no further resistance. The Satan worshippers had been routed, but all knew the lull would not last for long. And the next encounter between them would find the followers of the Dark One well armed and ready and willing for a fight.
They filled their tanks at a service station, after breaking in the doors, turning on the electricity, and unlocking the pumps. They pulled out for Fox Estate. Halfway there, they found the road blocked by heavy trucks.
'Rabble!' Princess Flaubert hissed her anger, the words coming from her mouth like a snake uncoiling. 'Cowardly rabble, all.'
'They thought it would be easy taking the Christians, Princess.' Norman Giddon attempted to sooth the young woman. 'They did not know—nor did I—that Sam Balon would open fire on unarmed men and women.'
'Well, they should have been warned!' Xaviere snapped. Her words cracked like tiny whips. 'Sam Balon is just like his father. God's personal killers. That's all. They must
Norman Giddon, trembling from fear, slinked from the room much like a whipped dog.
'God's personal killers,' the old warrior said, his voice rumbling across the firmament. 'I think it has a nice ring to it, don't You?'
But the Ruler of the Heavens did not find His friend's remarks amusing. He glared at him.
The warrior refused to be intimidated, just as he had been doing for more years than would be imaginable for humans to comprehend. 'You began it all, remember? You could have just as easily killed the Son of the Morning, you know. Then all this would have been prevented.'
'1 would rather you not refer to that filth as the 'Son of the Morning.' Please.'
'Pardon me. Shall we have it stricken from the Bible? Gutenberg is somewhere around this area, I believe.'
'You try My patience, old warrior. But I am not deceived by your actions. You're attempting to anger Me so I will order you from the firmament. Then you could meddle in Earth's business. I know all your tricks, Michael, and you should be ashamed.'
'Should be, perhaps,' the ageless warrior replied. 'But I am not.'
'All that violence,' He muttered.
'You are concerned about the violence in one insignificant little village when the entire planet of Earth is exploding in war daily? I—'
'Speaking of that!' the voice thundered.
'Am I about to get another lecture concerning the Middle Eastern portion of that planet?'
'Yes. You meddled.'
The warrior sighed and prepared himself for a scolding. But he was used to it. It had been occurring for thousands of years.
And had not deterred him from single action.
'I know a shortcut,' Noah shouted. 'Back up and follow me.'
The column backtracked, following where Noah drove. He cut off the county road onto a dirt road and roared around the gravel curves, the rear end of the vehicles fishtailing in the loose gravel. They angled back toward the highway, finally bouncing onto the road, north of the blockade. The caravan headed for Fox Estate. Homes were fewer in this part of Logandale, but much more expensive.
They drove past the Giddon House and cut into the curving drive of Fox Estate. They had accomplished the first leg of their journey.
Sam saw Jimmy Perkins shuffle from the rear of the house and run for the thick brush and timber to the rear of the estate. Sam jumped from his pickup and triggered off a long burst from his AK. The slugs hit Perkins in the back, knocking the undead sprawling. The others watched in amazement as the man jumped to his feet and ran into the timber, apparently unhurt from the lead that stitched his back.
