“You wanted to shee me?” asked the terribly warped face atop the brown-clad, rotund body. The man really was grotesque. Justin might have even felt some sympathy for him if he hadn’t been a crazed cannibal.
“Uh, yes, I did,” said Justin, crossing his legs. “I have something very important to discuss.”
“Shuch as?”
“Well, it’s a bit complicated,” began Justin, “but the fact of the matter is that I represent the US Center for Disease Control and Prevention in New Atlanta. And we—my colleagues and I and the old man, Mr. Lampert, that is—are on a sort of mission, a very important one, which is currently, shall we say, a bit derailed, as you can see.”
If David could still manage facial expressions, he didn’t bother with one now. Instead he sat and listened to Justin’s little speech like a chunk of wood and, when Justin had lamely sputtered out, continued to do so. A long, uncomfortable moment passed before the man finally spoke up.
“There ish only one misshion,” he said juicily. “And that ish the Lord’sh. There ish only one important thing, and that ish almighty God. Do you undershtand, brother?”
“Well, frankly, no,” said Justin honestly. “You see, our mission is not of a religious nature. It’s more of a medical emergency. What we hope to do is to use—”
David cut him off with a violent shake of the head.
“You musht forget all of that,” he said, sternly yet mushily. “You are with ush now. There ish no other world for you. In a few daysh, after you have contemplated, you will be given the opportunity to join the Church. If you choosh to join, you will live here the resht of your daysh, in peash and harmony. And if you choosh not to join, well, then alsho you will abide here the resht of your daysh. Sho, ash you can shee, there ish no more for ush to shpeak of.”
“But I beg to differ, sir,” said Justin, trying to sound authoritative and docterly. “If you would simply hear me out, I’m sure—”
“No more talk,” said David, rising from his chair. “You musht go now. Contemplate what I have shaid. Shoon, your time will come.”
And with that, leaving Justin to stammer and blink, he walked out. In a moment, the guard, undoubtedly Brother Someone, came and prodded him from the office, across the compound, and back into the darkness of the cell. He’d been gone all of ten minutes. Wanly, he looked over at his cellmates, who all looked questioningly back at him. Disgustedly, he walked over and sat down again at the table.
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Bowler, Brother David is not a sane man.”
“Toldya,” said the young man. “There’s just, like, no reasoning with these dudes.”
The rest of that day was a long, dull and yet incredibly worrisome time for Justin, as he sat and brooded, wondering if he and the others would be alive at this time tomorrow. Finally, bored and restless, despite all his worries, he decided that even chatting with Mr. Lampert was better than just sitting there fretting and went over to where the Old Man had laid himself out on one of the cots. Lampert’s eyes were shut as he approached, but now slid open and the familiar piercing blue orbs stared up.
“Whassup, Doc?” said Lampert. “Somethin’ goin’ on?”
“No, nothing important,” Justin said. “I was just kind of… worried out, I guess you might say. Or, to put it another way, I’m just plain bored.”
“Yeah,” said he Old Man, bracing his bony arms behind his head, “this hotel’s not too big on the amenities, is it? Shit, no pool, no cable TV, nothin’.”
Justin smiled. “Yes, it is somewhat primitive,” he said. “And the staff leave a lot to be desired.”
“Ha!” Lampert barked. “Is that a joke, Doc? For real? Not too bad for a first try, I guess! Well, don’t quit yer day job just yet.”
“I won’t,” said Justin. “But, in our present situation, I’m afraid that it doesn’t matter very much whether I’m a doctor, a lawyer, or a stand-up comedian. All would be equally useless.”
“Yeah,” said Lampert. “And that is kinda weird, now you mention it.”
“What is?”
“Oh, just that these brown guys aren’t interested in the fact that you’re doctors and nurses. Seems to me, you’d be in demand! After all, how many survies runnin’ around out there are MDs? Can’t be too fuckin’ many.”
“Well, that’s undoubtedly true,” Justin said. “But, for whatever reason, this Brother David seems unimpressed, to say the least. Maybe they have their own medical staff, or maybe they simply don’t believe in medicine. There were several pre-Fall religious groups who forbid all medical treatment as sinful and a desecration of the human body.”
“Uh huh,” said the Old Man. “They had Christian Science, they had the whole Dianetics, L. Ron Hubbard gig. I’m pretty sure Rastafarians, too. But from the look of these weirdos, I’d say they’re probably just into some kinda wild-ass Evangelical thing. Latter-Day Saints, some kinda twisted Mormons, maybe. Sure as shit ain’t Rastas! The point is, they obviously don’t need doctors.”
“No,” said Justin, “and, to tell the truth, that comes as something of a relief.”
“Oh yeah?” said Lampert, opening one eye to peer at Justin. “Why’s that, Doc?”
Justin shuddered. “Because,” he said, “the mere idea of working with these people makes my skin crawl. Ugh.”
“Yeah,” said the Old Man. “They are a repugnant bunch, aren’t they?”
“Indeed,” said Justin. “Repugnant is just the word.”
Chapter Twelve
Thanks to an amazing survival instinct, the Kid woke up just moments before the Rippers came at him. Another minute and he’d have been torn to bloody shreds. He’d been curled up in his cave, a bright moon high in the starry sky and the cool air of the night caressing his face, when some part of his mind, never really asleep, jolted him to consciousness and he scrambled to knees, looking around for the source of danger. Quickly enough, he picked out three stealthy shapes moving silently toward him along the stream bank, heads low on the scent and eyes aglow in the wan moonlight. They were Rippers alright; he could see their shaggy tails and their sharp white teeth. They were on his trail, too, from the looks of them. Any second now, they’d pick up his smell and then…
Reflexively, he grabbed his best weapon, an old tire iron, and scrambled free of his home. Better to be out in the open, even if it meant that they could get at him, than to be trapped in the cave. He crouched low and, as silently as the Rippers themselves, crept off into the undergrowth, where he knew of a good tree that even Rippers couldn’t climb.
Or such was his plan. But when he got to where he thought the tree was, there was no such thing, just skinny saplings and weeds. A thrill of fear running up his back, the Kid cast about, but the light was dim and the place was unfamiliar. For a long moment he hesitated, unsure of what to do. Normally his instincts were dead on and generally led him directly to safety when things like Rippers came prowling in the night, but somehow this time they’d failed and now he’d have to improvise.
He was about to backtrack, to regain the relative safety of the cave, but when he turned slowly to move, he saw that it was too late; the Rippers were right there, trotting swiftly toward him, tongues lolling wetly, ears flat, and eyes narrowing into fighting slits. Sharp adrenaline flooded his system as they leapt to the attack and he almost dropped the tire iron and ran, but, knowing that it was now kill or be killed, he stood his ground and met their charge.