It was difficult to listen to him.
There was a glass of water on the table, full and glistening.
“Well, Eric,” said Daniel Sullivan, “this is how it is.” He picked up a pen and twirled it in his hand. “I’ve talked with these two lovely ladies, and I know the whole story. I understand your position with Carl Doyle. I also know that you are not responsible for the deaths of my fellows.
“But that doesn’t matter much to me, Eric. I know it’s going to be hard for you to understand, maybe impossible, but I’m going to explain to you once why you have to die. It’s up to you to decide the manner of that death. That’s the best I can do for you.”
Lucia made a hissing sound, but when Daniel Sullivan turned his head toward her slightly, she shrank into the corner.
“Carl Doyle is a menace, but he’s dangerous. After what beautiful Lucia told me, I’m not sure we could take him without suffering grievous losses. We’ve had enough of that. I won’t put my people at risk. Yet this leaves me with a quandary, Eric. Because my people need justice. Justice binds us together, you see. Without justice, we’re only a gang. With justice, we’re a people, a culture, a civilization. We are brothers and sisters. People are the bones of a society. Justice is the muscle, the cartilage, the flesh.”
Daniel Sullivan revolved in his chair, picked up his pen, twirled it in his fingers, and then silently studied him for a second.
“This leaves me with the question, what is justice? Have you thought of that? What is it? Is it knowing right and wrong? Or is it simple, animal revenge? I thought about this for a long time. And it came to me finally. We’re just human beings, we don’t know right and wrong. Only God Almighty can know that. Revenge is unsatisfying and leads to reprisal, enmity, feud, war. I understood it finally, one night, while I was at prayer at the feet of Our Lord.
“Justice is sacrifice. We need people to die for what we believe. We need them to make the ultimate sacrifice. Their blood gives life meaning. Their final exhalation breathes life into a society, Eric. That is the lesson of Our Lord, the son of God. Sacrifice is the root of justice. We ask these people who have done us wrong to sacrifice themselves for the good of us all. Everything else is mere machinery toward that end.”
Daniel Sullivan let his pen drop. His chair squeaked as he leaned toward Eric. His eyes were terrible upon him.
“It doesn’t matter if you are guilty or if you are not. What matters is the sacrifice. When my people see you die, they will come together. Be it in grief or rage, be it in agreement or disagreement, it won’t matter. Your death will bind us as one, make us a stronger people. That is why you have to die, Eric, for the good of us all. You must die.”
Daniel Sullivan’s eyes grew gentle, almost grateful, though Eric saw there also a bright mote of pleasure that made Eric’s skin crawl with revulsion.
“But I can let you choose the manner of your death,” he said. He rocked back in his chair so that it squealed again. “These are the choices open to you. I can take you and your two accomplices here, I can truss them up, put a gag in their mouths, and line all of you up against a wall and shoot you. That would be sufficient.”
Eric felt a groan rise up in him, but the only sound he made was a dry rasp.
“Or,” Daniel Sullivan continued, “you can walk up in front of my people and confess to what you’ve done. You can tell them you conspired to kill our people, that you are agents of the Minutemen sent to test our borders. You can say that you pledged your heart, your mind, your very soul to President Jacobs, that you kneeled at his feet and you kissed his hand. You will say you kidnapped these two fine women for your own use. Then you will be taken to a wooden wheel and bound there, hand and foot, and you will be whipped until you die. If you do this, Eric, we will spare the little girl and the lovely Lucia. We will take them into our company.”
Trembling, Eric turned his attention to Lucia and Birdie.
Birdie’s face ran freely with tears and she trembled. Lucia made a retching sound, more like an animal than a human. Eric swallowed and then turned back to Sullivan.
He made a rasping sound.
“Here, my boy,” Daniel Sullivan said, pushing the glass of water toward him. “Have a drink, son.”
Eric took the glass and, his hand shaking, lifted it to his lips. He had never experienced anything so sweet. His mind seemed full of golden lightness, and it opened to a clarity he had forgotten existed. He took a breath and then drank again. And again. Finally, he set the glass down empty. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, savoring the feeling, which was already leaving him. Then he opened his eyes and gazed steadily at Daniel Sullivan.
“Don’t call me son,” he croaked. Sullivan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he waited. “I’ll do it. I’ll say what you want. Just don’t hurt them.”
“No!” Lucia cried, sobbing. “No, Eric, no!”
Daniel Sullivan turned his eyes toward her. “What did I tell you, woman?”
Lucia’s eyes shut and she shuddered and said nothing more. Her lip was bleeding again and tears flowed down her face. Birdie had her eyes squeezed shut and her hands on her ears.
Sullivan turned back to Eric. “It won’t be easy. You will suffer more pain than you thought possible, but you must endure. If you utter one word of your innocence during the ordeal, I will have to re-investigate the issue. If I do that, your friends will die.”
Eric trembled, but he picked up his chin. “I can,” he began, but a sob threatened to interrupt him. He swallowed. “I will do it,” he finished with effort.
“I thank you for your sacrifice, Eric,” Daniel Sullivan said.
Eric said nothing, but his eyes were unwavering.
Daniel Sullivan smiled a crooked smile, and then whistled. When the guards came in, Sullivan nodded toward Eric.
“Bring him to the holding cell,” he said. “Let him have all the water he wants. He has an important speech to make.”
When it came time, Eric hardly knew what he was saying. It was as if he was speaking through another’s mouth. He stood in front of the group of strangers and said that he had plotted to destroy them, to bring them into the new state of President Jacobs. He described how he had snuck up on the two guards, shot them, and then, wanting to instill terror into them, had driven over their bodies, again and again. He said he had kidnapped Lucia and Birdie, to be used as his wives.
It was over before he knew it. They dragged him through a shouting crowd to a large wooden wheel. They ripped the shirt from his back, and then tied him down. He did not resist.
Eric kept his head down. He stared at a red, brick wall. It smelled cool and innocent. Behind him, he could hear Daniel Sullivan give a speech, but he did not listen to him. When it was over, the crowd was silent, expectant, solemn. He could hear the hard soles of boots strike asphalt. There was a gasp from the crowd, and Eric prepared himself. He prayed he would have the strength to resist, to be quiet.
The first lash was like a fire lit in his mind. He cried out in the heat and intensity of the pain. Someone in the crowd shouted that he deserved it. When the second lash hit, Eric already felt exhausted. By the fourth lash, the crowd was absolutely silent. Eric was crying now, in great sobs, but he was careful they were inarticulate. He would say nothing, as he promised. After the fifth lash, he heard Lucia scream in anguish, and it helped him somehow, the thought that he would not die without someone to mourn him.
At the sixth lash however, when the whip cut into his muscle, he no longer cared for sympathy. He only wanted the strength to die in silence, on his own terms, with something like dignity.
The seventh lash eradicated even that.