by Nathan Combs
Aziz shook his head no.
Saadeh smiled. “Then let’s go, my new friend.”
Paul Justice wasn’t totally worthless. He did have rudimentary wood crafting skills. At least the army had taught him the basics. Sitting in front of a small campfire, cooking a trout he managed to catch, he pondered his future. It didn’t look too promising. Deciding it was time to drain the “old lolly,” he got up and walked away from the campfire. As he began to urinate, he felt something cold and hard at the back of his neck. He froze.
A female voice said softly, “Don’t move.”
Paul Justice experienced a pucker factor of ten and the urine stream dried up.
“I’ve been watching you for half an hour. If you don’t wise up, you’ll be in one of the camps by the end of the week. And by the way, you look absolutely ridiculous standing there with your little dick in your hand. Put the horse back in the barn, put your hands up, and turn around. Slowly.”
Justice did as he was told, and turning, stared into the eyes of a woman whose beauty took his breath away.
“Relax, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. You’re out here because of the troops?”
“Yeah,” said Justice. “I was one of them not long ago,” he lied. “I know what they’re doing and why they’re doing it. Some of the guys complained, and they were put into camps with everyone else. I saw the writing on the wall and got out while I could.”
“That’s interesting. You have military expertise then?”
“Of course I do. I was the bravo squad leader.”
She didn’t know what a bravo squad leader was, but decided her chances of survival would be enhanced if she had another set of eyes and ears. At least for now, he might prove to be useful. And he had caught a fish. And she was hungry. “My name’s Nina. What’s yours?”
Saadeh and Aziz spent the next week walking deep into the Chattahoochee until they found what Saadeh thought would be a good place to set up camp. Saadeh didn’t have much in the way of survival supplies—just some fishing tackle, a couple of knives, a handgun, a scoped rifele, a small pot to boil water in, and a half full Bic lighter—but it was enough to provide the basics.
By now, Saadeh was the only friend Aziz ever had, and he would do anything his friend needed him to do. Aziz knew one thing for certain. He would never lose Saadeh like he lost his mother.
Two weeks after they entered the Chattahoochee, Nina Lutrova and Paul Justice met Mohammed Saadeh and Faisal Aziz.
******
The plague descended on Chattanooga with a vengeance, and people died by the thousands. Those who fled to the Chattahoochee had other problems. Food was scarce, resources were hard to come by, and danger lurked behind every tree.
Within a very short period, Saadeh became the leader of their growing group and Nina became his lover. From Nina’s perspective, it made sense to give the man what he wanted in exchange for the privileges the position gave her. In reality, she could manipulate Saadeh to do whatever she wanted him to do since he seldom thought with his big head. She enjoyed running the show in stealth mode, so she tolerated him.
In the early months of the plague, they came close to starving, and it was Nina who provided the solution. There were a lot of little survival groups scattered throughout the Chattahoochee; the game plan was to raid those camps and steal their caches.
Taking Justice with her, they began to prey on other survival groups. In the beginning, they raided the camps and took what supplies were available. But the availability of food at those sites was negligible, and in most cases, non-existent. After three months, Nina decided she would take a different tack. She left Justice at their camp and headed out on her own. A day later, she came upon a couple with a small child sitting around a campfire eating fish. Approaching silently from the rear, she drew her sword and beheaded the man in one motion. The woman screamed and the child ran.
“Shut up, bitch,” muttered Nina as she swung the sword a second time. Then she started after the child.
“What type of meat is this, Nina?”
“What does it taste like, Paul?”
“Tastes sorta like chicken,” said Justice.
******
A year after the plague began, Mohammed Saadeh and Nina Lutrova sat on the edge of a lake making plans for the future.
In a matter of fact voice, Nina said, “We can’t keep killing people when we’re hungry, Mo. We can’t preserve all of the meat. We’re wasting too much.” She leaned in close and nibbled on Saadeh’s left ear. Whispering softly, her hands wandering down his torso, she said, “Mohammed, do you remember when you told me we should capture people and get them to join us, and that we could use them as slaves and, when necessary, for food?”
Saadeh, with a confused look on his face, said, “I said that?”
Nina smiled and said, “Well of course you did, Mo. Don’t be silly. Who else would be smart enough to come up with that idea? You have so much on your mind you’ve simply forgotten about it.”
With his ego in full bloom and a portion of his anatomy at attention, Saadeh said, “Nina, my Queen, I do remember now. It was by the big lake…after the midnight feast. Yes, so…I leave it to you to work out the details. But continue with what you are doing. Please.”
She obliged, and afterward, she smiled at him and said, “I’ll get right on the slave-food thing, Mo.” Then under her breath as she walked away, she said, “One day, when I no longer need you, I will kill you, my dear Mohammed.”
The plague began to dissipate in the Chattanooga area roughly fourteen months after it started. Their group numbered twenty-two by then, and while they didn’t escape it entirely, (two people they assimilated into the group died from it) Nina surmised the low numbers were a combination of proximity to those infected, natural immunity, pure luck, and maybe even karma. The fact that they stayed well away from the countless skeletons and rotting corpses they encountered in their travels throughout the Chattahoochee probably didn’t hurt either.
With followers came increased capabilities. The extra trigger fingers and gear prompted Justice to train some of them in the use of firearms, and in what he called “military justice tactics.” He promoted himself to general.
Nina knew Justice’s troops were worthless, inefficient, and wouldn’t be able to fight their way out of the proverbial paper bag. Justice and Mohammed had decided early on that all male members would have their teeth filed down, heads shaved, and faces tattooed within a week of becoming members. She had to admit the resulting appearance of The Light members presented an intimidating image to future captives.
“I’m glad our little family is growing,” said Saadeh. “But it is becoming difficult to cut them from the herd for food without arousing suspicions from the others.”
“That’s true, Mo. I agree,” said Nina. “But in the end, it will be all right. They’ll see the light.”
Saadeh scrunched up his face and asked, “What are you talking about? What light?”
Nina didn’t tell him that Svetlana meant light in Russian. She just smiled and said, “It’s a figure of speech, Mo. But the more I think about it, I think you’re right, The Light is a good name for our group.”
Saadeh asked, “The Light?” Then after a reflective pause he said, “Oh yes, of course, The Light!”
Nina smiled to herself and said, “I’m glad you thought of a name for us, Mo. From now on, that’s who we are. We’re The Light. I’ve been meaning to ask you…tell me more about your little white pills.”
That fall, The Light headed to Chattanooga with the expectation of finding more people. When they left six months later, their numbers had swelled to over six hundred. However, instead of making things easier, the sheer number of mouths to feed made life more difficult. It was a fact they couldn’t kill their own people and feed them to the others without a damned good reason.
That might make the natives restless, Nina mused. She knew she had to come up with a solution soon.
A month after they left Chattanooga, Nina felt invincible and in total control. And she was. Using her intelligence, as well as her beauty, she controlled every decision and every movement The Light made. She did it all through Saadeh who, miracle upon miracle had become useful to her after all. The hallucinogens he concocted were key to controlling the clan. Plus, he proved to be a dynamic motivational speaker. Nina was in heaven. She had never been this content in her life. Then they went to Robbinsville.
Nina and Justice were sitting in the room they used as a conference area.
She said, “What the hell are we doing in Robbinsville, North Carolina, Paul?
“Because there are lots of people living in small groups in the mountains, and they’ll be easy to take.”
“Really? I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here. The only good thing about this burg is the facilities. You have one more week. If you don’t produce some captives by then, we’re out of here.”
Fortunately for Justice’s ego, an hour later one of his patrols brought in four new captives. Nina put on her skin-tight black leather pants and matching bustier, and made her way to Saadeh waiting stage-side. Mohammed and Faisal joined them after they took their positions on the edge of the football field to await Justice’s signal. Justice was standing in the center of the stage, and she watched as the two men and two women were led to the platform. When Justice pointed in their direction, they began their slow, methodical walk to the stage. Nina thought the event was much like a king and queen making their grand entrance in front of their subjects, and in fact, that’s exactly what it was. Saadeh did his thing, and as usual, the crowd went wild. Also as usual, Saadeh promised they would perform the “Roasting Ceremony.”
Saadeh just dismissed them when Nina’s attention turned to the runner coming toward them, frantically waving his arms. Placing her hand lightly on Saadeh’s arm in order to halt his exit, she stopped and waited until the runner gained the stage. In halting sentences punctuated with gasps for air, he told Justice the food patrol sent out four days before was twenty four hours late.
Justice was annoyed and told the runner, “Get Maurice and his squad over here right now.”
Nina’s antenna went up. This was not normal, and she knew something was wrong.
Saadeh showed no concern at all. “Handle it, Paul,” he said. Then taking Nina’s hand, he led her off the stage and back to his room.
God, she was sick of balling Saadeh. He was horrible in bed. She tolerated it because, for the most part, she could screw and then kill anyone she wanted to, any time she wanted to. Eating them afterwards was a nice bonus too. However, the roasting ceremony alone was worth the hassle—it was her favorite thing of all time. The event was a gigantic performance on stage in front of hundreds of The Light. Beheading captives in front of her worshipping horde provided her with the most extreme orgasic like pleasure imaginable. In fact, they had become so intense, she worried she would fall off the stage and ruin the image she was projecting to her subjects.
With the ceremony hours away, she decided she needed a distraction. She spoke to the guard that Saadeh insisted be stationed outside her door whenever she was in her quarters. “Go find Sarah and bring her to me.”
The guard nodded. “Yes, Nina.”
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Nina said, “Come in.”
The door opened and Sara Driscoll entered the room. In her mid-twenties, tall and lean with short auburn hair and green eyes, Sara was almost as attractive as Nina. Captured nine months ago, Sara had instantly assessed the situation. She realized if she wanted to live she would have to pretend to go along with the program until she could escape. But escape was difficult because Justice assigned one of his men to monitor every move she made. Although she pretended to, she never ate the meat and no one ever paid enough attention during the ceremonies to see she wasn’t munching on her fellow man. She also didn’t take the drugs given to them. That was easy to fake. You pretended to swallow them, and minutes later you jumped around and yelled like an idiot. Sarah Driscoll was, in fact, perfectly normal and sane. But she was also in a very precarious and dangerous situation, and she intended to survive it.
Nina was ambivalent about the filed teeth and didn’t think much of the tattoos either, but she steadfastly refused to allow Sarah to have either. Which was a moot point, since Justice didn’t trust the girl.
“Get your clothes off and get over here, Sarah,” demanded Nina.
Nina knew Sarah Driscoll was as straight as an arrow, but she was enthralled with the performance she faked so well. It was so over the top doing someone who hated it turned her on almost as much as killing.
Sarah smiled and began taking off her clothes. When she reached the bed, she stood looking down at Nina.
“You’re lucky I don’t want to eat you literally, Sarah.”
When Nina was finished with her, Sarah returned to the room she shared with two other girls who were willing participants and ready to go to the show. The roasting ceremony would start soon, and Sarah hated them. She also hated the sessions with Nina, and often fantasized about killing her, even though she was scared to death of the bitch.
One of her roommates gave her a strange look and said, “C’mon, Sara, let’s go.”
“You guys go ahead, I’ll be down in a minute. I have to use the bathroom.”
There was no running water because there were no utilities, but Nina insisted that garbage cans full of water were kept in each bathroom for flushing and personal hygiene. The bathroom Sara used was just down the hall from her room, and she spent ten minutes trying to wash Nina off her skin. Then because she had no choice, she opened the door and went out to the football field.
For Nina, this particular roasting ceremony was historic. She experienced a sensation so intense it threatened to overwhelm her, and she thought her knees were going to buckle. It went on and on, but just as she thought she would pass out, she regained a measure of control. Then she did something she’d never done before. She licked the blood from the sword, reached into the stream of blood spurting from the severed neck of the woman, and rubbed it on her face. Another powerful orgasm-like sensation coursed through her and she stood perfectly still with her eyes closed until it began to dissipate. Then she thrust her sword into the air and screamed, “LIGHT!” She had never seen her subjects that frenzied, that excited; she decided from then on she would use the same tactic at every roasting ceremony.
Two hours later, with the two captives butchered, roasted, and eaten, she and Mohammed returned to his room where she went through the daily ritual of appeasing his lust. Then, Nina Svetlana Lutrova, the former lead pianist for the Philadelphia Orchestra, returned to her own room and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter Eight
Lights Out
As they were passing the forward OP, Sean said, “Maybe we should have tried to notify the Northern Groups about this mission, Wade.”
“It would take too long. It’s a five-hour hike to the Ranger group, plus another hour to the Delta group. It would take them a half hour to mobilize and then five or six hours to get to Fort-T, plus another seven or so to get to Robbinsville. That’s nearly a full day. One of their patrols could slip through. We’re on our own.”
When they hit the blacktop, they fast walked it to the hide above the football field and duplicated the sequence they used during the initial recon. Chris and Bill held at the entry point and watched for outgoing patrols, then continued on to the hide while the other four held at the entry point.
When they were all in the hide thirty minutes later, Chris said, “Look at the football field.”
Randal muttered, “Damn.”
The stage had been moved to the northern end of the field.
“I ranged it. Six hundred and forty-two yards,” said Chris.
“Why did they move it?” asked Bill.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Randal. “You can still make the shot, Chris?”
Randal said, “We have no choice but to deal with it. It’s going to be a long day, and we can’t plant the explosives until late tonight. Regardless, by tomorrow night at the latest, they’re going to start worrying about that second patrol. There’s nothing we can do now except wait and get some sleep. Chris, you and Bill take first watch. Highlander and I will take the second; Dad and Sean, the third.”
It was 7:15 am, Saturday, September 1.
Nina was restless. She was also hungry for something besides meat. She told the guard to go find Sara.
After the guard left, she stared out the window thinking about the missing patrol. It had never happened before, which meant it was odd. She attempted to discuss the missing patrol with Mohammed, but he wasn’t interested in anything except sex. Another affirmation for Nina that Mohammad was an idiot.
Lost in thought, she was startled by the knock on the door. It took a moment for her to remember. “Come in, Sara.”
Sara came in and said, “Good morning.” Nina never called her in the mornings. She only ever summoned her after a roasting ceremony, and Sara was curious.
“Relax, Sara. I want you to do something for me.”
“Would you like a backrub?”
“That’s tempting, but no. I want to add some fruit to my diet. The blackberries are ripe and I want you to pick some for me. Find a bucket and bring me some berries. And Sara…if you try to escape, the guard has orders to blow your brains out if he even thinks you’re thinking about it.”
“Why would I do that, Nina?”
Nina smiled sweetly and said, “Why indeed? Go get the berries, Sara, and when you come back, I’ll think about letting you give me that backrub.”
Sara found a bucket and the guard followed her to the football field. She stood for a moment, searching for the most likely location to find blackberries, and finally selected a knoll on the western side of the field. She started toward the hill with the guard following twenty yards behind her.