here. Whatever these people represent, they’re armed.” He could see the man chained to the stake was not much more than a boy.
“That is far enough!” a robed and hooded man called from the outer fringe of the circle of stone. Other robed and hooded men joined him. They were all armed, most with sawed-off pump shotguns, a few with M-16’s and AK- 47’S. All carried side-arms belted around their waists.
“Stand ready!” Colonel Gray barked the order. A dozen bolts on automatic weapons were pulled back. A stocky Rebel with an M-60 machine gun, belt ammo looped over his shoulders, leveled the light machine gun at the knot of strange-appearing men.
The guards quickly re-evaluated their position.
“We want no trouble, gentlemen,” one of the older guards said. “But you are interfering in a matter that is none of your concern.”
“Seems like to me you’re giving that boy-was Ben’s eyes touched the young man chained to the stake, his lower body now completely engulfed in flames- “more trouble than he deserves. What has he done to warrant this?”
“That is none of your concern,” Ben was told. “Stay out of it.”
“Colonel Gray?” Ben said. “Would you be so kind as to put that young fellow out of his misery?”
“My pleasure, sir.” The Englishman lifted his rifle and shot the burning boy once in the head, forever stilling his hideous screaming and ceasing the agony from the fire.
A low grumble of anger sprang from the crowd. It was a mixed group, Ben noted. Men and women and some teenagers.
“Whoever you are,” a woman spoke from the crowd of robes and hoods, “you do not have the right to interfere with justice.”
“Justice is one thing,” Ben said, his eyes searching the crowd for the source. “Torture is quite another. My name is Ben Raines. Now you know my name, what is yours?”
The crowd looked at one another. A tall, stately, middle-aged woman stepped from the inner circle. She walked out of the stone circle to within a few feet of Ben. The odor of burning flesh clung to her robes. She had the eyes of a fanatic.
The woman stared at Ben for a moment. “We were told you were dead,” she finally said. She seemed disappointed to learn Ben was still alive.
“As you can see,” Ben said with a smile, “paraphrasing Mark Twain, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I am very much alive and doing quite well.”
“So I see,” the woman spoke. Her eyes were like a snake’s stare: unblinking. “I am called Sister Voleta. I am a princess in the Ninth Order.”
“Fuckin’ loony, is what she is,” a Rebel muttered.
The woman heard the comment. Her dark eyes narrowed. The odor of unwashed bodies mingled with the sweet smell of human flesh.
These people, Ben thought, don’t believe much in bathing.
Ben’s peripheral vision picked up movement from the north, along the timberline that bordered the open, weed-filled field.
“I see “em,” Ike muttered. He lifted his walkie-talkie and spoke quietly.
At the interstate, mortar teams began setting up by the side of the road.
“If those are your people,” Ben told the robed and hooded woman with the dark, evil eyes, “you’d better pull them up short before I give the orders to have them annihilated.”
The woman’s eyes never left Ben’s face as she spoke. “Very well,” she said softly, speaking so only Ben and those near them could hear. “You win this small battle. But I assure you, there will be a next time. You have made a serious error by interfering. It will not be forgotten.” She smiled strangely as her gaze swung to the long column behind Ben. She raised her voice. “Tell our guardians to halt. We are
too few against many. This time,” she added.
A woman lifted her arm and waved the group of men to a halt. She lowered her arm and the men squatted in the field.
Ben pointed to the charred, bloody remains of the dead young man. “What had that boy done?”
“He violated the rules,” Sister Voleta said. “That is punishable by death.”
“Must have been a serious violation.”
“He bred with an outsider. That is not permitted in our society.”
“An outsider? Where is she?”
“She will be stoned to death at dusk. That is our law.”
“Get her and bring her here.” Ben’s words were harsh.
“You do not give orders on this land, Ben Raines. Your words are meaningless here. For as far as you can see and beyond, all that is land claimed by the Ninth Order. You are trespassers. Do not tempt the gods, Ben Raines.”
“We take her easy, or we take her hard. Your choice.” Ben threw down the challenge.
The woman made no attempt to hide her hate or her anger. Her eyes flashed venom at Ben. “The Ninth Order is powerful, Ben Raines. Your interference this day will neither be forgotten nor forgiven.”
“I’m scared out of my wits,” Ben said. He barked, “Get the girl.”
The robed and hooded woman trembled with rage. She glared at Ben. Finally she said, “Bring the godless slut here.”
A young girl, no older than her middle teens, was dragged from the inner circle. She had been forced to watch her lover burned and ultimately shot in the head. She had been savagely beaten. One eye was closed. Her face and arms were bruised. Blood leaked from her mouth. She was naked from the waist up. Her breasts were bruised.
“They took turns raping me,” she said to Ben. “They hurt me.”
“She is a fornicator,” Sister Voleta said. She enjoys it. How could it be rape?”
Ben shook his head. “Lady-and I use the term as loosely as possible-you people are weird.” He looked at a Rebel. “Take the girl to the convoy, to Doctor Chase. If anyone interferes, shoot him.”
A jacket was placed over the girl’s bare shoulders. She was led away. No one tried to stop them.
Ben looked at Sister Voleta. “I haven’t the vaguest idea what the Ninth Order might be. I don’t really care. I strongly suspect it is another of the pagan, barbaric groups that are growing like fungus to join the other nuts and kooks around this country. But I warn you-all of you. If you people cause any trouble for me, or for those who travel with me, I promise you I shall return and wipe you out to a person. And do not take my words lightly, sister.”
“We are not afraid of you, Ben Raines,” the woman spat her words at him. “For the Ninth Order stands on the word of God.”
“Horseshit!” Ben returned the venom. “You people twist and profane God’s word to suit your I own perverted whims. You’re no better than Emil 1 Hite and his nuts down in Arkansas.”
“We have been in contact with Father Hite. We might join forces with him.” “Father Hite!” Ben laughed at her. “All right, lady, you do that. It’s just as easy for me to cut the string on two yo-yos as one.”
“It is not over, Ben Raines. Rather-it has only begun.”
Walking back to the column, Ben wondered what in the hell that last bit was all about.
The going got slower on Interstate 24. The convoy was forced to call it a day just south of Manchester, near what had once been the Arnold Engineering Development Center. The complex now lay in ruins.
Ben ordered the young woman taken from the hands of the Ninth Order to be brought to him after the evening meal.
“Go easy with her, Ben,” Doctor Chase cautioned. “She’s had a rough time of it. She was raped fore and aft.”
“Nice people,” Ben muttered.
“Dangerous people,” Chase commented, then left Ben’s quarters.
“What is your name?” Ben asked.
“Claudia.” She looked much different from the first time Ben had seen her. She had bathed, dressed in clean clothing, and fixed her short hair.
“Claudia … ?” Ben prompted.
