if I wanna hear it, then I'll tell you what it is.' Then, to emphasise this, he smashed his rifle butt into the man's face. 'Now git.'
'Yeff fir,' said the lackey, spitting blood and teeth as he got to his feet and left.
'Maybe you gentlemen'd like to accompany me to ma office,' Benny said and walked towards an armour- plated door in the far wall. Colt joined him and motioned for Simon Peter, his number two, and one other soldier to follow. The rest of Colt's men stood to attention. Dressed in full Neo-Clergy uniform they looked every bit the crack team they were. Not like the bunch of yahoos Benny Cooper had around him.
As they walked down a corridor to what had once been a manager's office, Colt got the measure of Benny. He was around six-five and broad across the shoulders, with long red hair. Benny wouldn't have been allowed it like that when he was in the Neo-Clergy. Nor the cowboy hat and boots he and all his men wore. All ways of showing their independence from the past. That would change soon.
Two other men flanked them as they approached the office. Tom Eastman, head of the Crazy Eight klan from Casper, walked like he knew how to handle himself in a fight. Next to him was Carl Jennings, head of Cheyenne's Lonesome Rancheros Klan. Colt knew Carl of old. He was a pastor's son who had done a tour with the marines before The Cull. They had history in the Neo-Clergy and Colt was prepared to give Carl some latitude. With his buzz cut hair and his sharp angular nose he could have been Simon Peter's brother. They were even the same height. The only thing that distinguished them was the long scar down Carl's left cheek.
Benny showed them into the office and sat in the big leather chair behind the desk. The walls were covered with hunting trophies, weapons and even a pair of severed human hands, mounted on wooden plaque. There wasn't a crucifix or a Bible in sight. Benny was in need of moral education. Colt was just the man to give it.
'Why don't we get down to business?' Benny said, leaning back and putting his feet on the desk. 'I think we all know why our friends from Colorado are here.'
Colt drew himself up straight. He had not taken the tiny stool he had been offered. It would have put him at a lower height to everyone else, so he remained standing while they lounged.
'I'm not a man to waste words,' Colt said. 'So I'll come to the point. The whole country's gone to hell since John-Paul Rohare Baptiste died. While he was alive and the Neo-Clergy was strong the people had a chance. There was order. Things got done. Now, wherever you look there's degeneracy, sin and disorder. There's never been a time when the country had more need of the Neo-Clergy. I intend to answer that need. I've been building the organisation back to its old strength. We've taken control of Colorado and New Mexico, as you know. We're also running most of Utah. Now we're ready to welcome Wyoming back into the fold.'
Benny, Carl and Tom all exchanged looks. 'As all three of you used to be in the Neo-Clergy,' Colt went on, 'I'm prepared to let you keep control of your Klans. But things have got to change. You'll have to start paying dues and recruiting foot soldiers for central HQ. Full uniform will be worn at all times and daily prayer meetings are compulsory, not just for members but everyone in your territories.'
'Well that's mighty generous of you,' said Benny. 'But y'know, the Neo-Clergy ain't too popular round these parts anymore. What with all that talk about John-Paul drinking kiddie blood and all.' Benny was talking about a rumour that had plagued the Neo-Clergy since it had lost its grip on power.
John-Paul Rohare Baptiste was the founder and glorious inspiration for the Apostolic Church of the Rediscovered Dawn. Years after the The Cull had struck down everyone whose blood group wasn't 'O' negative, this one man had miraculously survived the levelling. By the laws of science he should have been dead. The blood in his veins should not have kept pumping through his heart as it was not O-neg. Yet the divine grace of the Lord had kept him, and him alone among all the other people with a different blood group, alive. Kept him alive in these Last Days to lead the Neo-Clergy and save God's people.
Satan was covetous of God's miracle though and he wanted the last of the souls the Lord had left alive. So he struck down John-Paul, scattered the Neo-Clergy and put about the rumour that their leader had survived not through a miracle, but by blood transfusion using blood from the children the Neo-Clergy had taken from their parents to mould into God's future warriors.
'That was a damn lie,' said Colt, seething with anger that a former member of the Neo-Clergy could repeat such slander. 'John-Paul was a man of God. A walking miracle, kept alive by the blessed grace of the Lord.'
'Even so,' said Tom. 'There's a lot of folks glad to see the back of the Neo-Clergy. And I'm inclined to agree with 'em.'
'Which is why we've been forced, by popular pressure mind, to join forces and keep you out of Wyoming,' said Benny. 'Now we know you gotta lot of men under your command. But we also know you gotta lot of trouble out in Utah. Which is why you're over here recruiting. Together we're more'n a match for whatever you can throw at us. So you best keep out of Wyoming from now on. We've gotten to like things they way they are and we don't want no-one else muscling in on our rackets.'
'So that's how things are,' said Colt after a long silence.
'That's how things are.'
Colt looked at all three men in turn. None of them met his eye. He turned on his heel and marched out of the office. Simon Peter and the soldier followed him.
'You drive careful now,' Benny called out as they left.
Colt was mighty pissed. Simon Peter could tell that. Maybe more pissed than he had seen him in a while. He got quiet when he got angry. And that was frightening, Like waiting for a lit fuse to blow.
Simon Peter could feel him seething in the back seat of the SUV as he turned onto Route 287 out of Laramie. Even with his back turned to Colt, Simon Peter could feel his mood, like heat from a furnace. The two foot soldiers sitting either side of him could feel it too. They looked away, watching the road intently.
Wyoming was practically Colt's backyard. It looked bad in front of the other States if he couldn't bring them back into the Neo-Clergy.
Simon Peter knew the only way to get Colt out of his mood was to get him to scheme. He had to be careful how he did it though. 'Permission to speak sir.'
Colt waited a while before answering. 'What do you have to say?'
'Sir, I don't trust those Wyoming boys. I'm fixing to go in there and gun down every one of 'em. But I know you got a smarter way of handling this. I was hoping you might tell me, 'cos otherwise I'm so pissed I'm likely to kill the next inbred local we see. Just to see the look on his stupid face.'
'At ease soldier. Don't you worry none about them Wyoming boys. They're going to get theirs.'
In the rear view mirror Simon Peter saw Colt crack his knuckles then stroke his bald head and clean shaven chin. This was a good sign, it showed he was thinking. Colt was a big man and when he sat up he made even a roomy vehicle like the SUV seem small.
'I got me a plan for dealing with this, but I want to see you show me some initiative. What do you think I'm gonna do?'
Simon Peter knew this game. He knew how to play dumb and show the right amount of deference. 'Well I don't have your experience sir, but I'm guessing that until we can subdue Utah, which ain't anytime soon, we don't have enough troops to take Wyoming back into the fold. So are you planning to cut off their supply lines and starve 'em out?'
'And what supply lines would those be? They grow or scavenge most everything they need right there in Wyoming. Had to since The Cull came down. You're gonna have to do better than that.'
'What about sabotage? Are you thinking of guerrilla tactics? Sending in small parties to take out their fuel depots and food stores.'
'It'd crossed my mind. There's always the risk of them getting caught though. Could compromise us if they torture the men for intelligence or try and ransom them. Not to mention the excuse it would give them to counter- attack. You ain't doing too good at this.'
A light came on in Simon Peter's head. 'Maybe you ain't fixing to use force at all.'
'Really?'
Simon Peter thought for a minute about the best way to sell his idea. 'Maybe you're gonna mount a 'hearts and minds' campaign. Try and win over the people them Wyoming Klan's rule. They seemed to put a lot of stock in how unpopular the Neo-Clergy was. What if that were to change? What if there was – how did Benny Cooper put it? – 'popular pressure', that's it. What if there was too much popular pressure from their own people to keep us out?'
Colt grunted, he was impressed. Before he got a chance to say anything though, Simon Peter lost control of
