His mother pivoted around in confusion. It took too long before she figured out what he meant. A familiar face drove a garbage truck right past her, just a little too fast for normal parking lot speed. She knew David Barrows well. All the unmarried women were required to entertain the martyr squad before their final missions. He was definitely no sanitation worker.
Natalie’s mother could tell from his blank stare and size of the truck that there was no point in running. The familiar stank of fertilizer and fuel oil wafted in the truck’s wake. She just fell to her knees and clutched her children close.
“God is great.”
The garbage truck, as well as half the big box retailer and nearly 200 civilians, evaporated as David detonated 2,000 pounds of his homemade, ammonium nitrate bomb.
“Good God! What was that? Everyone okay?” From the backside of the Walmart, the federal patrol leader ran a quick headcount. All of his troops were accounted for.
“Bring us around front.” As his truck slid around the corner to the main entrance, his stomach churned. All this just for the off chance of killing some of his troops?
“Stop! Back up!” His driver slammed the brakes and rolled back over the detritus. Debris with fingers sticking out.
His gunner hollered below. “Sergeant, we’re going to need a lot more medics.”
“We’re all medics today.” He dived out and bounced from one charred husk to the other, searching for any with a slight pulse. It only took his unit and every ambulance in town thirty minutes to tend to the wounded.
After that, they all spent the rest of the day and most of the night bagging body parts.
In his infinite kindness, the Preacher gave Natalie the whole day off so she could, “Thank the Lord for her family’s sacrifice,” in private.
Natalie used the time, from sunup to sunset, silently camped out in the compound’s motor pool, scribbling into her diary. She had never driven a car before, so she had to wait until one of the menfolk was available. Besides, the Preacher would have never condoned an unmarried female behind the wheel. Especially after what happened the last time he made an exception.
One of the scouts returned, made his report and came back to mess around under the hood of his truck. Natalie waited until the rest of the motor pool emptied out.
“Greetings, Brother Timothy.”
The young man sputtered and stashed his flask away, spilling too much in the process. Booze was strictly forbidden among the Warriors of Christ. He’d seen men publically flogged for much less than taking a drink. He spun around as a ghost materialized at his elbow. “Yeah, what’s up, uh, sister?”
“May I trouble you for a ride into town, sir?”
Despite her politeness, the girl’s lifeless voice crawled inside his skin. “I’m off duty. Why don’t you take your bike, sugar?”
“Beg your pardon, sir, but then I wouldn’t be back to the compound until after dark. The Preacher needs his prescription filled as soon as possible. Should I tell him you’re too busy and find someone else?”
Timothy narrowed his eyes. Was that a threat? Hard to tell, since the girl never took her eyes off her feet. Either way, he wasn’t about to get in the way of the Preacher’s business. She might be nothing but a worthless female, but she was also a pet of the most dangerous man in the country. He belched and popped a handful of breath mints.
“Fine, let’s go.”
He stashed his rifle and radio away. “We’re going into the lion’s den, so make sure you don’t have anything on you that could link us back to the movement. The Feds have patrols everywhere.”
Timothy smiled as she tried to hide some book behind her back. Silly little thing.
“Don’t worry. Your Bible’s no threat.”
Twenty minutes later, Timothy pulled his truck into the pharmacy parking lot. He glanced over at the complacent girl beside him. She hadn’t spoken a word the whole way, just spent the trip knitting some socks.
“Who are those for?”
He could barely make out her whisper. “My baby brother.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I heard about that. Bad luck.” Not knowing what to say in the awkward silence, he took a quick nip from the flask in his pocket. Surely she must have seen his little sin? She never stopped threading though. He took another draw and felt the tension fade. It was so hard to relax back at the compound. Of course now, out and about in the small town, there weren’t so many prying eyes.
“You know, I reckon you must be a discrete little thing for the boss to trust you so much.”
“It is my duty and pleasure to serve Christ in any way I can.”
Timothy grinned. In the fading light, there weren’t many people around. He drained the last of his corn liquor. “Yeah, I bet you like to serve.”
Unsnapping his seatbelt, Timothy slid closer. He took a stinking breath and rested a hand on her knee, waiting for a reaction. She didn’t flinch or even halt her knitting. That was all the permission he needed. Her ridiculous dress looked like something his grandmother would wear, but he didn’t care about the wrapping. Only what was underneath. Timothy reached up and cupped her breasts roughly.
She spoke with the same anger-free, toneless lack of inflection as always. “That is a sin, Brother Timothy. Please forgive me for saying no to a Warrior of Christ, but we are not married.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over things like that.” He unbuckled his pants and leaned in to kiss her neck. “You don’t get out very much. What do you say we have some fun? It’ll be our secret.”
Without the slightest display of emotion, Natalie stabbed her knitting needle up and through his ear canal. Reaching his skull, she sat up on her knees and put all her weight behind the thrust. The finely honed point breached the bone casing and plunged deep into his temporal lobe. Not a single bubble of anger marred Natalie’s placid disposition.
Nor was there a hint of mercy in her eyes.
“I’m sorry Brother Timothy, but sinners have to be punished.” She removed the needle in one smooth move, and then plunged it into his crotch. Then again. Then yet again.
Several minutes later, she climbed out of the truck. Her neck-to-ankle, navy blue dress, black now after soaking in a gallon of blood, attracted immediate attention. A large crowd gathered to take pictures and occasionally call for help. Natalie floated over to the intersection and waited patiently on the curb, returning to her knitting.
It didn’t take long for a nearby National Guard patrol to respond. One of the soldiers jumped out and whistled for his medic. “Miss, what hap-”
“Are you searching for the Warriors of Christ?”
The medic smiled in disarming sympathy. He’d seen this reaction far too often. For her to be so calm, she must be in serious shock. Resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, he leaned in to inspect the bloodstain on her chest. Something in her eyes made him spring back and reach for his sidearm. He coughed nervously, hand hovering over the gun’s handle. The girl had no visible wounds.
That wasn’t her blood.
“Um, yeah. Of course we’re always looking for them. There’s a $10,000 reward for each member, if you happen to know where any of the terrorists are hiding.” One of the other soldiers chuckled. “Yeah, and a cool five million for the Preacher, if you can give us his number.”
Natalie did some quick math and smiled for the first time all day. “Acceptable. Sinners must be punished.”
She tucked her needle and thread away and handed him her diary.
“How do I collect my nine million dollars?”
Three hours later, a Special Forces operator tossed the Preacher’s limp, perforated body into a waiting chopper. Another soldier chucked several computers and boxes of bloodstained paperwork beside the corpse. They collected the intelligence treasure trove as a matter of routine, but no one paid close attention. They had far better Intel already on hand.