Then came the pain. Paul reacted with a sharp intake of breath as John put the knife down and reached to the side of Paul’s head. He held up the item for Paul to see. It was his ear.
Paul started to sob in anguish, but John spoke over him. “Hesitate to answer, and I cut something off. Refuse to answer, and I start cutting deeper.” He leaned over the prone form. “Look at me, Paul. Am I joking?”
“N-no!”
“Are you going to answer my questions, to the best of your ability?”
“Yes,” Paul whined as his eyes drifted to the ear held over him, blood dripping from it onto his chest.
“OK. Good.” John placed the ear on Paul’s chest and wiped his hands on the sheet, making sure to clean the joints of the articulated fingers of his prosthetic.
“Who are you with?”
“I’m army. Infantry. No, wait!” —Paul’s eyes widened once more as he saw John reach for his knife— “I am army, but I also belong to the order or Rosae Crucis.”
“Rosae..?”
“Crucis. Rosae Crucis. The rose and the cross.”
“Is that the Rosicrucians?” John asked, frowning as he tried to recall.
“No... Well, kind of... We’re related, but we’re not the same.”
John just looked at Paul, waiting for him to continue.
Paul looked up at John with pleading eyes. “We’re not evil. Our beliefs are... Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore.” He clenched his jaw and looked down for a second, before meeting John’s eyes again. “We were taking over.”
John nodded.
“Captain Shaw received a message. We were supposed to come here and take the supplies... He knew that there were people here... I don’t think he wanted a fight—”
“Right.” John interrupted, sensing that the young man was about to start ranting. “Where were you taking these supplies?”
“I...” Paul shook his head slightly, wincing when the open wound on the side of his head touched the pillow. “I don’t know. Honestly! ... I don’t think we were taking them anywhere. I think we just needed them for ourselves.”
“All right. I believe you, Paul. I have another question. Where did you come from?”
“We were at a military base until a few days ago. All the regular military died out, so it was just us. We abandoned it when we got overrun by zombies. I don’t know how they found us, but they did. We had to make a run for it. Lost one of the vehicles, and a couple of guys...”
Paul grew silent. The sound of John breathing in through his nose brought him back to the present.
“We had to leave a lot of supplies behind at that camp. We just got out with the gear and food we had on us. I guess Shaw figured that we needed to re-supply in a secure location.”
“Are there any more of you out here?
“No. There is an Optio somewhere. But Shaw mobilized the entire team for this action.” Paul’s mouth stayed open in a combination of shock and sadness. “You killed all of them...”
“We defended ourselves. Your man Shaw,” John spat out the name like it was a curse. “He started the killing.”
“Yeah...” Paul said softly.
“Who was this Shaw character?”
Paul snorted. “A bully.” His eyes trailed to John’s hands, then back up to his face. “The rest of the guys... they were talking. They figured that Shaw was losing his mind. He was irrational.”
John raised his hand. “That’s fine, Paul. But what I want to know is what was his role. You guys called him ‘captain.’”
“Yeah.” Paul’s reply came out as a whisper. “Captain.” He savored the word for a second before continuing, “Shaw’s title was captain. It means more than just a rank in the Order.”
“Right. So, who is in charge of your ‘Order’?”
“That’s the old man himself ... I saw him once. He is old, but full of passion.”
“OK, hold on. You’re losing me,” John interrupted. “This old man. He’s like your emperor or something?”
Paul shrugged. “Come to think of it, yeah. He is our Sentinel. Our leader.”
“The leader who destroyed our society. Who killed billions,” John declared flatly.
“He wanted to change the world, yes. But his intentions were good. It’s the corporations and the governments of the world — the ones in power who brought this doom down upon us.” Paul was fervent in his reply. So much so that he forgot about his fear and his pain. Until he shifted and groaned.
John could smell something in the air. It was a familiar smell. For a brief moment, he was back in that building, in the sweltering heat, in the city of Isfahan. The bodies of his comrades around him. Blake, trying to keep his guts from falling out of his belly. His hands full of thick purple ropes and blood and shit...
“John?”
“Yes, Paul?”
“I’m dying, aren’t I?”
His eyes welled up as he said it. John hardened himself against it.
“Yes. You’re dying.”
Paul moaned in despair, the sound reminding John once again of a dog. He felt sorry for the young man. He knew the kid was desperate for some comforting words, but he was not in the mood. He thought of his wife, sleeping in the next room. He remembered the blood bubbling out of her wounds and soaking her clothes in a rapidly spreading stain.
“You’re not the only one who got shot today.”
John stepped closer once again and reached for his knife. A small whine escaped Paul’s lips as the knife glinted in the dim light.
“My wife was shot. She could have died,” John said. “She’s not out of the woods yet and may still die.”
“I’m sorry.”
Paul was crying. The knife hovered over his chest; John’s eyes were distant.
“John,” the young man said.
John jerked slightly and turned his head to look into the eyes of the Rosae Crucis soldier. He saw the look in those eyes and feared what he was becoming. Again.
Blinking, he pulled the knife away. He backed up a step and sheathed his knife.
“Please... don’t leave! Can you stay and talk?” Paul begged.
