Circle of Wagons: The Gospel of Madness (Book 4 of 6) (The Gospel of Madness - (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Series))

by Georg Bruckmann

  Some, however, were engaged in their own conversations in small groups. On the other side of the fire, Mariam recognized Doctor Mahler, who, also with a plate of meat and potatoes in front of him, sat cross-legged on the floor and finally ate. The cable ties had been cut from his wrists, but to his right and left were men who kept a close eye on him. Wanda raised her voice again.

  "Why do you need the doctor? Why is he so important?"

  "He worked in Neckarwestheim. In elevated position"

  "Neckarwestheim"?

  "The nuclear power plant. We secure the nuclear power plants. In a way, the war also had its advantages. As long as the world was still ruled by eco-whores, that would not have been possible. Too many interests. Money. Too many people consuming energy. Leaving these dirty places to themselves now would be a wasted opportunity. A missed chance, and wasting it would soon, sooner rather than later, prove tragic. We simply refuse to believe that we as a species, we as survivors, are just one last twitch of humanity. We need to turn our disaster into a restart. A new start for a better world."

  "And that's what you do by turning those things off?"

  "No. They shut down themselves unless they were destroyed. Still, we can't just let them rot away like that. Fuel rods must be buried underground. It must be prevented that uncontrolled atomic fissions occur. There are still enough people who know a little about physics. Now we still have a chance. But imagine what will happen in three or four generations as the decay of power plants continues to progress. It is more than unlikely that by then enough people will be able to do something about it. So we're a little pressed for time. And it's not just about nuclear power plants. If we want to preserve this planet for people to live on, there is much more to do."

  Mariam was more than astonished. Throughout her life she had never met anyone who thought in such temporal scales and in such grand terms. Wanda asked further.

  "And you have problems in Neckarwestheim?"

  "Yes, that's right. Mahler will help us."

  "And then what? Then what are you doing?"

  "There's plenty more of these things. Why do you ask?"

  "I ask because I have the impression that you clearly underestimate another danger."

  "You mean those stupid cavemen you... had so much trouble with? Sure, they're a problem, but not ours. They can be taken care of later on. This is nothing compared to the power plants, the warheads that rust in bunkers and the chemicals that ferment in tanks and factories and gnaw on their vessels. An arrow can kill one man. Uncontrolled nuclear power and chemistry can turn vast areas into death zones for a thousand years. There's too many of them anyway. We're trying to map them. This is about the species. Not about individual fates. That's what we believe in. That's why everyone here is motivated, why we work so well together."

  Mariam could see that Wanda had hoped for a different answer and that it was difficult for her not to turn the conversation into an argument.

  "All right, then. So, where are you going to go after Neckarwestheim is safe?"

  "South. Switzerland. There's four of those things in a pile. More or less, anyway."

  In Wanda's head the cogs turned and she suppressed a smile.

  "We're coming with you."

  The black bearded man drove his right hand through his face while he looked at Wanda for a long time. She tilted her head to the side and smiled. Finally he nodded. A new voice sounded, one that Mariam already knew but hadn't said anything in the last half hour. Eva's voice.

  "We can't have any ballast. Or am I looking at this wrong? What can you do?"

  Another voice spoke out.

  It was the green-eyed one with the gray temples.

  "They can shoot. I've seen it. Even the girl. And that one..."

  He pointed to Wanda.

  "... has ice in her veins."

  "Is that so? All right, then. Can you ride a motorcycle?"

  "I can learn. I'm a quick learner."

  The black-bearded one smiled.

  ***

  Mariam was astonished when she saw the huge cooling tower rise into the sky. She was even more amazed when she noticed that the power station was by no means abandoned. The entire surrounding area was controlled by other Motorized. How many could that be? A hundred? More? They had posts set up, roadblocks and checkpoints. Two motorcycles were driving towards them, and after a short stop and a short exchange of words between Eva, who had driven at the head of the convoy, and the right of the two new motorcyclists, the group of the black bearded man was escorted to the parking lot.

  Wanda and Mariam sat on the back seat of the green station wagon that had brought them out of Heilbronn. Mariam looked over to Wanda, with whom she shared the back seat. She, too, was completely overwhelmed by the new impressions. Mariam was sure she knew what was going on inside Wanda's head.

  So many. All armed. All with vehicles. How the hell did they organize all this? Where did their resources come from? Where's the fuel for their cars? And what was even more important: How could she manage to win these people over?

  And how huge this facility was! Large, round domes made of reinforced concrete nestled against administrative buildings with eight storeys or more. There were other buildings, many of them, of which Wanda had no idea what they were good for. The whole area was almost one square kilometer in size. So big that on closer inspection the women and men of the Motorized looked rather lost. Neither Wanda nor Mariam articulated their thoughts. They were busy absorbing and processing the new impressions. The driver of the green station wagon, known by now as Leander, drove his vehicle between the buildings in a way that suggested he wasn't here for the first time, and finally stopped in front of a sober gray concrete building.

  "Get in there. You'll be assigned a room. Say you were sent by Armin."

  Then he turned directly to Wanda.

  "Tomorrow I'll teach you how to ride a motorcycle."

  The building probably served as accommodation for all the Motorized. The room that a nagging old guy with bad teeth gave them was little more than a shack where the copier used to stand. But what did they expect? A hotel? It was warm and dry, and they could close the door. Good enough. For the first time in an eternity, the two of them slept through.

  The next morning Wanda set off to search for Leander. Mariam trotted after her, intimidated by the surroundings and the people who were rushing around, but who paid little attention to her and Wanda. Leander was waiting for them downstairs, sitting casually on a light motorcycle. Almost apologetically, he greeted her with the words:

  "It's an eighty engine. But that's enough for a start. Here's your helmet."

  Just as Wanda had closed a step on Leander to accept the helmet, Armin together with Eva came out from the building in which Wanda and Mariam also had been accommodated. Both spoke smilingly and held each other close, and when the Blackbeard registered the three and the motorcycle, he pulled Eva behind him and came over to them. He now made a different impression than before. Something of the tension, of the burden he carried as leader of his squad, seemed to have fallen off from him, and Mariam understood that leaders like him also had a need for security. Wanda also noticed the changes, Mariam could see that, because she paused in the middle of the movement and looked forward to them.

  "How's that working?" the Blackbeard asked unusually friendly.

  "We don't know yet," Leander smiled. "We haven't even started yet."

  "Well, do it then. Good luck."

  Eva joined in.

  "Yes. Break a leg."

  Eva's facial expression could not be interpreted, but Mariam noticed that the smile of just before had disappeared. Wanda ignored the remark of the redhead and changed the subject.

  "How's it going with Mahler?"

  "Quite okay. We're getting closer step by ..."

  He broke off in the middle of the sentence, his head shook around, his gaze focused on a point in the distance, and then Mariam could also hear what had thrown the black bearded man out of c
oncept.

  Shooting and screaming.

  He cursed.

  Eva pointed to Wanda.

  "That was her. I told you right away we should leave her behind. She brought her problems here."

  The woman's voice was hateful to a degree that lacked any foundation.

  "Bullshit!" Wanda hissed back.

  Now shots and screams were heard from two other directions. And they came closer. Panic and anger flickered in the eyes of the black-bearded man as he pulled his pistol out of the belt halter and pointed it at Wanda.

  "What have you done? Is that the thanks I get for my kindness?"

  "What? I had nothing to do with it, I..."

  Other armed Motorized came running out of the building.

  "They come from all sides. Even from the river," a young woman shouted, waving a radio around and running towards Armin and Eva.

  "I have their leader here. He wants to talk to someone who has something to say."

  Breathing heavily she came to stand in front of Armin and stretched the walkie-talkie towards him.

  "I'm just a squad leader. Where's Matthias?"

  "He won't answer. I don't know."

  "All right, give me that."

  He pressed the talk button and said:

  "Who is it? What do you want?"

  A cawing, tinny voice with a strange accent, difficult to understand under the constant fighting noises that could be heard from everywhere, rose above the static noise.

  "My venerable father calls me the crow. We want everything, and our numbers are legion. Give up. Fall to your knees and bow to the will of God and his servants. Then you may live if you please me."

  Shepard

  It didn't take long until I had sneaked up to the three by three meter opening in the back wall of the church building, using the large, sharp-edged fragments of the wall lying everywhere behind the church as cover. How this destruction had come about - I had no idea. Maybe a bazooka, maybe a misguided artillery grenade. No. No, the destruction was too little for that. A mortar shell? After all, it did not matter how this hole got into the back wall of the Church of the Apostle. It was there, and I'd use it. I held myself close to the wall, tried to keep my breathing quiet, slowly pushed my head around the edge and peered inside the church. There weren't all the degenerates out on the square celebrating Brownjacket's death. About fifteen had loosely distributed themselves around the altar, the back of which I was now looking at, without observing any particular order. Also some of them held a bottle or a looted beer can in their hands and drank or talked quietly with each other. I tried to remember which of them had laid down his weapons in which place, which of them was still carrying them on his body, and which one seemed most dangerous to me. I tried to find out who the leader might be, who his officers were, and who was simply a henchman. They all wore the strange bone jewelry that I had not consciously noticed on any of Da Silva's disciples before. Yeah, that over there had to be the captain here. The leader or whatever they called it. The man had shoulder-long blond hair and was relatively small for a degenerate leader, at least much smaller than a degenerate leader should be in my imagination, but it was more than obvious that everyone was listening to him, yes, listening to him with almost fearful care when he said something. He sat on the right side of the altar and dangled his legs down. He had turned his back to me, looking forward through the church, towards the Apostle Square. The light that fell through the stained glass windows bathed the scenery in strange colors.

  Some wind came up.

  Cold.

  Then suddenly a brain-born heat drove through my body when the man turned to me and spoke to me directly.

  "Ah, there's our guest at last! What joy!"

  He gave me a smile with yellow teeth and prepared his arms for a caricature of a welcome gesture.

  "Come in! Come on! We've been waiting for you. Don't be shy, get in our modest house!"

  He gestured in the overdrawn and at the same time repulsive manner of a pre-war entertainer. I still couldn't move. How the fuck did he know I was here?

  "Look, all your friends are already there. You know her, don't you?"

  On his gesture a silhouette-like movement developed further inside the church. Then they were dragged to the altar and brought to their knees with their faces towards me. No, to their knees were forced only two of the three of the High People. It took me a second to recognize them as such. The cloths had been torn from their shaved skulls and their hands tied to their backs. All except Mr. Paul. He had stopped behind them and looked at me tense. One of the prisoners was the one with whom he had set off to examine the corpses that the degenerates had so effectively exhibited throughout Viernheim. The other one was the one I had sent after him. Linus. He still had a broken arrow in his left thigh, and the wound seemed to bleed heavily.

  This was all supposed to happen in thirty minutes? In the thirty minutes it took me to sneak up here?

  Possible.

  Possible, if Mr. Paul had made common cause with Da Silva's people from the beginning.

  Damn traitor pig.

  When did they turn him?

  "Oh, look how his little brain has trouble explaining your presence," the degenerate leader turned to the two prisoners and slapped one of them on the back of the head.

  "And that's not even the whole surprise. Could I have a drum-roll, please? No, bullshit, no drum-rolls, just get that stupid bitch here, will you?"

  Again there was movement further back and then two degenerates, passing Mr. Paul and the two prisoners, dragged a woman forward.

  She was naked, the inside of her thighs was blood encrusted, and bone splinters had been stabbed through her nipples. Her blonde hair was also sticky with blood on one side, and it seemed that she had received one or more heavy blows to the head. The vampire Doctor.

  "It's her you're here for, isn't it? Because of that stupid piece of fuck meat? You're taking all this trouble for that filth? Believe me, she's not worth it. Too old, too unspectacular - she wasn't even particularly willing, as you can see."

  He pushed himself down from the altar and went forward to her. His eyes were shining as he tore her head back by her bloody blonde hair and then grabbed forward and tugged at one of the bone splinters. She screamed, but she didn't dare fight back.

  "You see? She's pretty upset. Now come in, finally, I have already asked several times in a friendly manner. I'm getting a little impatient with you. What do you say? Do you want to come to me, or shall my people bring you in?"

  He made a gesture that at first to my amazement - and a fraction of a second later to my horror - was not meant for the degenerates in the church, but seemed to be addressed to someone behind me. I slowly turned around.

  Eight.

  There were eight degenerates who had put bows on me, and two of them had crossbows too, which were very similar in design to mine. I had allowed myself to be distracted for too long and the terrible songs that still sounded from the apostle place had hidden their footsteps from my hearing.

  "Well, that was a nice try you made there. Take his weapons and bring him here."

  The command was executed promptly.

  At close range, the guy smelled as his teeth suggested. His eyes shone in an unhealthy looking way and were streaked with red veins. They also brought me to my knees, right in front of the vampire doctor and the blonde bum face. She looked me in the face, but I didn't get the impression that she recognized me. Tears of pain and despair stood in her eyes and the corners of her mouth trembled, as if she would begin to cry at any moment. A single drop of blood climbed down from her nipple to the bone splinter that the degenerate leader had torn around a few seconds ago. Then a second. They united at the top of the splinter and fell to the ground together. I don't know if the little blonde man had shared my observation, but when Mr. Doctor's blood touched the church floor, he began to speak again.

  "You have a common past, as I've been told? Interesting. You know, we have one, too. A common pas
t. You and me. You've been around a lot, haven't you? Frankfurt. Heidelberg. And you've caused trouble everywhere. Isn't that so, Mr. Paul?"

  There was no answer. I tried to look past him to get a glimpse of Mr. Paul. I wanted to see the wanker's face, but that was made impossible for me because he let his head hang and stared at the floor in silence.

  "Never mind. Well, for all I know, you robbed one of our innocent little slave groups first. Then you picked out the best pieces of cattle and hid with those losers in the station. Afterwards, when it got a little too hot for you there, you left. But not without shooting a few more of our people in the back with those disgusting cowardly weapons you love to carry. You really are a coward, aren't you? Then you went to Heidelberg and started pestering this lady. And that's only because she has a rather unusual taste."

  He squatted next to the kneeling vampire doctor, grabbed the bleeding breast roughly, tore it up and licked the wet red. The tears that had stood in her eyes began to run.

  "So. And then it still wasn't enough for you. Then you went to the people of poor Mr. Paul and caused trouble there. Mr. Paul was already desperate when we met him by chance a few days ago. Fortunately, he quickly realized what good people we are. He has asked for help, and who are we to refuse such a noble request? After all, as good Christians, we have obligations, don't we? Well. In any case, Mr. Paul aroused our interest, and the more he told us about you - yes, maybe we had to persuade him a little - the more we got convinced that you could actually be this guy from Frankfurt. I was there, you know? Me and two of my brothers. In the tunnels. Deep underground. And now it's just me. I can't blame you for maybe not remembering me exactly. It was dark, and you were brainlessly scared. But I saw you. I remember your face well. I don't know if the bullets, the little cowardly bullets that killed my brothers, were fired by you, or by your pale slut or any of your people. But I've seen and heard you give the order. You really have a bad character, you know? And the poor boy with his injured dad. You just left him there. All you do is cause trouble. It's a thing of beauty I took care of him."