"What do you think Henn is goin' to do for you?" asked Okie.
"Henn, as you call him, is the chosen one, the awaited one, the one whose comin' will make all right. As the books say, the sheaves shall be harvested and bound, the chaff shall be winnowed, the blood shall give life."
"Blood, Reverend?" asked Doc quickly. "What blood?"
Herne stood up, knee joints cracking. "All will be seen, friends, tomorrow at dawn, when we gather to worship him as he shall be ordained."
"Is Henn goin' to be sleepin' in here?" asked Finn.
"No." Herne's gentle smile sent shivers up Ryan's spine. "The sisters wish the honor of fucking the Dark Lord. He will sleep little, as the plow sleeps not in the furrow."
Okie sniffed and spat, then went to one of the low truckle beds and sat down. The priest watched her, then moved to the door.
"We shall see you all on the morrow. One of the sisters will bring in a bowl of punch for you to drink your fill. It will aid you at sleeping."
He left, banging the heavy door shut behind him. Finn giggled. "That lucky son of a bitch bastard, Henn. Gettin' all that for free."
A great crock of drink was brought in and set on a table by one of the younger women. She was wrapped in black cloth from head to toe, and her face was veiled so that only her brown eyes shone from under the cowl. Finn tried to get her to talk, but she lowered her head and ignored him, leaving quickly.
"Can't wait to get back to her Dark Lord," Finn said, ruefully.
They tried the punch. Ryan wrinkled his mouth at the taste. It was flavored with herbs and obviously was strongly alcoholic. But as he rolled it cautiously around his mouth, he detected a strange, bitter aftertaste. He spat it out on the earthen floor.
"Fireblast! That's evil stuff."
J.B. put his mug down on the table. "Don't care for it. Tastes like wolfbane."
Lori had taken more than a bit of it before her face showed her dislike. "Not like," she said.
"Seems drinkable," belched Finnegan. "Bit of... yeah, not so good."
Okie, Krysty and Doc put down their beakers, untasted. Ryan looked across at J.B. biting his lip, knowing that the Armorer shared his doubts. But neither of them said anything. After all their years together, they didn't need to.
Ryan tipped the bowl in a dark corner of the room. The punch flowed into the dirt and left only a faint damp patch. When Herne returned, he seemed pleased to find that the punch was gone.
"I shall leave you now to sleep. Our celebrations begin at dawn. I doubt they will disturb you."
Toward midnight Finnegan fell asleep, snoring loudly. J.B. checked him, the light of the dying fire reflecting redly off his glasses. "Seems well out. Can't wake him easily. Heart's all right. Breathin's deep but steady. Best take turns to watch him."
The hut shook as a momentary earthquake vibrated across the land. Tremors had become so common that nobody even noticed them.
They quickly arranged a roster to sleep so that one of them would always be awake, checking that Finn wasn't ill. Ryan guessed Finn couldn't have drunk enough of the punch to do him any permanent harm. But the mere idea of it was enough to make them more cautious overall. Okie agreed to sleep across the doorway, and all of them kept their blasters ready and primed. J.B. suggested breaking out, there and then, taking Henn with them, but Ryan was for patience.
"The food was fine and it doesn't seem dangerous here. Plus we're warm. It might not have been a sleeper in the drink could be just strong liquor. Finn hasn't had any for weeks now. We'll watch 'em."
Ryan Cawdor and Krysty Wroth were now accepted by the others as a couple. They went together, drove together and slept together. Once in the redoubt, Okie had made a play for Ryan in front of Krysty, putting her hand directly on the front of his trousers, smiling at his instant reaction, glancing at Krysty.
"Looks like he's ready for a fuckin' change," she had said.
Ryan had tensed, ready to deck her with a roundhouse right, pulling himself away from her grasp.
Krysty moved toward Okie, smiling at her with even white teeth. "Ever try anythin' like that again, slut, and I'll put two holes through the back of your head."
Ryan had rarely heard such menace in a human voice. Okie backed off, her eyes flicking nervously from Krysty to Ryan. "Only a joke, Krysty. Can't you take a fuckin' joke?"
"Yeah. See me laughin'? Make sure, Okie, you know the difference between a threat and a promise. Then you'll know what that was."
Okie never tried it again.
Now Krysty and Ryan were pressed together in a single bed, like spoons in a box. She faced away from him, her hair brushing against his chest, making his nipples feel tender. He almost immediately became erect, but both of them were sleeping fully dressed, even down to their boots. But she could still feel his need for her.
"Have to be a quickie, lover," she whispered.
"Better than nothin'. Want a hand?"
"No. You handle your part and I'll do the rest."
While he unzipped his trousers, she wriggled out of hers, pulling them down to her knees. She kept her panties on, moving them to one side to accommodate him. He felt the warmth of her muscular buttocks cupping him and he slid easily into her warm waiting depths. She moaned softly at the size that slowly filled her. He moved in faster and deeper, keeping the rhythm even so that she could share his pleasure.
"Yes, lover," Krysty whispered. "Keep it for... yeah, that's good. Hold me tight."
As he came, Ryan threw his head back, arching his spine so that he could thrust against her as hard as possible. The girl moaned again, and he could feel her internal muscles fluttering and tightening as she reached her own driving climax.
They slept until near dawn, when J.B. came and shook Ryan by the shoulder.
"What?"
"Turn out. It's close to first light. Your duty now. I've seen nothin' and heard nothin'."
Ryan swung out of bed, hastily doing up his trousers.
"One other thing, Ryan," said J.B.
"What's that?"
"Sometime last night they locked the door on us, bolted it on the outside. Oh, and Finn's out colder than an iced mutie. But I figure he's goin' to pull through. His pulse is still regular and steady. I'll stay awake."
"Mebbe wake everyone else," suggested Ryan, standing up and stretching like a great cat.
"Yeah," agreed J.B.
Silently they got ready, leaving their chubby companion snoring quietly on his bed, his mouth sagging open. As they checked their weapons, Ryan saw that Lori was looking terrified.
"Don't worry," he said. "Just takin' care."
She nodded to him, her lips trembling.
Attractive though her gear had been, Ryan had insisted that Lori change before they'd left the redoubt. The tall blonde now wore dark green combat coveralls tucked into steel-capped boots of the type that Finnegan and Hennings wore. She'd kept her little pearl-handled Walther PPK .22 pistol and also the Heckler & Koch MP-5 SD-2 silenced submachine gun that she'd toted around the stockpile.
"All ready?" he asked.
"Someone movin' out there," said Krysty, her ear pressed against the locked door. "Several people."
Ryan, who had known Krysty long enough to trust her amazingly acute hearing, moved to stand by her and saw the dawn's faint light around the edges of the door. There was also a crack of light near the center panel, where the thick wood had split. He put his eye to the crack but couldn't make out anything. Quietly he drew his panga and probed at the gap with the long blade, widening the split a little.
He squinted through it with his right eye.
Someone was standing near the other side of the door, blocking the view. Then the person moved and Ryan blinked at the sudden brightness. The sun had broken through the heavy cloud, giving a rare vision of a full dawn. He saw a space of trampled earth and snow immediately in front of the building; the broken wall, with its sinister, fire-blackened crucifix, faced him.