who-wants-to-be-next? attitude, and Alex said, 'We'll see who's strong enough to stand in the enforcement facilitator line.'
Buck, his pulse racing and his breath coming in gasps, stood stock-still as Alex finally reached the pivotal question. 'Just so we'll know,' he said, 'how many will be rejecting the mark of loyalty and choosing the alternative?'
Mrs. Miklos stood and turned to face him. Her face was drained of color, eyelids fluttering. Her chest heaved with the effort of merely breathing. Blood pooled behind her from the ugly wound. She shook like a victim of advanced Parkinson's, and yet she raised both hands, a beatific smile softening her macabre face.
'You choose execution by guillotine rather than the mark of loyalty,' Alex clarified.
The woman next to Laslos's wife, her face swelling, her nose red, upper teeth gone, stood and raised both hands, smiling a cadaverous grin.
'Two of you then?'
But there were more, and now the rest of the women stood just to see who was making the choice. From the original group of the kneeling devout stood a half dozen, smiling, hands lifted. 'You all want to die tonight?' Alex shouted, as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. 'I'm counting eight. You eight will- now nine-will go to the extreme right when you-all right, now ten-when you are led to the processing center. OK, you can lower your hands now. Two more. OK, twelve of you. No need to keep your hands up!'
A couple of women in front looked at each other and started toward the back, marks of the believer appearing on their foreheads as they lifted their hands.
'All right,' Alex said. 'Those taking the mark stay left as we enter the center. Suicides stay to the right.' And as he said it, three more lined up behind the bleeding women.
Buck fought tears. He could give in to emotion and wind up a martyr this very night, and in the heat of the moment, that didn't sound so bad. But he had a wife and a child and compatriots who counted on him. He stood blinking, panting, fighting to maintain control. These women were heroes of the faith. They would join the great blood-washed who literally made their bodies living sacrifices, soon to be martyred and appear under the very altar of God in heaven in snow-white robes of righteousness. He couldn't help but envy them!
As the women were led out, Alex shouted over the din, 'You can change your mind! If you have chosen this ridiculous option and wish you hadn't, simply step out of one line and into the other!'
But as the courageous filed past Buck, he saw the mark on each forehead and knew there would be no one turning back-no, not one. He fell into step with the female guard leading the doomed to the guillotine line. This proved no end of fascination to the others, who stared as they themselves stood in the loyalty lines, deciding where they would bear the mark of Nicolae.
When the guard moved past the head of the line to talk to the two men who would work the death machine, Buck stepped close to Mrs. Miklos and tried to appear as if he were interrogating her. 'Laslos wanted me to tell you he loves you with all of his heart and will see you in heaven.'
She turned toward him with a start, blood still oozing down her back. She stared at the uniform and then at Buck's forehead. Then at his face. 'I know you,' she said.
He nodded.
'I don't believe you have met Mrs. Demeter,' she said.
Buck was startled. The pastor's wife had taken the blow to the face. 'I'd shake your hand,' she whispered through her ruined mouth. 'But then you'd be in line with us.'
Mrs. Miklos bent close to Buck. 'Tell Laslos thank you for leading me to Jesus. I see him. I see him. I see my Savior and can't wait to be with him!'
With that her knees buckled and Buck caught her. The guard reappeared and grabbed her. 'No you don't, lady!' she said. 'You chose this, and you're going to take it standing up.' It was all Buck could do not to punch the woman in the face. She turned to him and said, 'What are we going to do with all these bodies? We weren't prepared for anything like this.'
Buck headed to the back, where the guards were lined along the wall. This was the first they would see of any executions, and it was clear they weren't about to miss it. Albie joined him, clearly overcome.
'That was Pastor D's wife with Mrs. Miklos.'
Albie shook his head. 'They're champions, Buck. I don't know if I can watch this.' 'Let's get out of here.'
'Maybe we should be here with them.'
'We shall start with enforcement,' Alex Athenas announced. 'Any who wish to switch lines may do so at any time. Ladies, once you have been secured in position in the apparatus, no change of mind will be honored. Inform someone before that or suffer the consequences.'
Buck stood paralyzed as Mrs. Miklos was led to the ugly machine. 'Has that been tested?' Athenas shouted. 'I want no malfunctions.'
'Affirmative!' answered the assistant, who would trade roles with the executioner with each victim.
'Carry on!'
From thirty feet away Buck read the lips of the executioner. 'Last chance, ma'am.'
Laslos's wife knelt and the assistant positioned her.
'Turn her around!' someone yelled. 'We want to see it happen!'
Albie turned on the man. 'Shut up! This is not for your amusement!'
The room fell tomb silent. In the stillness Buck heard Mrs. Miklos's delicate voice. 'My Jesus, I love thee, I know thou art mine.'
A sob attacked his throat. Seemingly all in one motion, the assistant fastened the clamp and stood quickly with both hands raised to indicate he was clear of the blade path while the other yanked the short cord. The heavy blade raced to the bottom of the shaft. Buck pushed past the others and out into the night air, disgusted at the cheer that met the sickening thud.
He was glad for the vomit that gushed from him, allowing him to sob openly. Tears cascaded as he thought of the cold workmanlike crews that would remove heads and bodies and make room for the next and the next and the next.
As he stood in the cool grass, convulsing now in dry heaves, he covered his ears in a vain attempt to muffle the thuds and cheers, thuds and cheers. Albie emerged and rested a hand on his back. His voice was thick as he bent and gently pulled Buck's hands away from his ears.
'When I get to heaven,' he whispered, 'after Jesus, those women are the first people I want to see.'
EIGHTEEN
Chaim took to pacing around in the Strong Building, repeating lines over and over. He usually carried a Bible, Rayford noticed, but sometimes a commentary or his own notes.
He didn't sound eloquent or forceful or confident to Rayford. It was as if all he was trying to accomplish was getting the basics down and having some idea what he was talking about. He also looked miserable, and Rayford wanted to counsel him again on where he stood with God, but he didn't feel qualified to make Chaim feel better about himself. Chaim apparently didn't see Tsion as a personal mentor but only as a teacher and tireless motivator.
It struck Rayford that they all had had to endure the same doubts and fears when first they became believers. They had missed the truth, then feared they had come to God only as a last-ditch effort to avoid hell. Was it valid? The Bible said they were new creatures, that old things had passed away and all had become new. Rayford had worked hard to accept for himself the truth that God now saw him, in essence, through his sinless Son, the Christ.
But it had been almost impossible. He was new inside, yes. From a spiritual standpoint he knew it was true. But in many ways he struggled with his same old self. And while God's truth about him should have carried more weight than his finite emotions, they were loudly at the forefront of his conscience every day. Who was he to tell Chaim Rosenzweig to just have faith and trust that God knew him and understood him better than Chaim himself ever could?
But if there was someone who seemed healthier more quickly than most, it was Hattie. The irony of that was
