by John Bowers
Nick shrugged—it wasn’t a battle worth fighting.
“Fine. Tell Dwyer to go ahead. Just make sure the guy stays out of my way.”
Suzanne was sitting across from Nick, monitoring the conversation. Now she spoke up.
“I have a question. Once you were down, why did the shooter kill that girl?”
“Maybe he was shooting at you,” Nelson suggested.
“Why would he shoot at me?”
“Because you’re with Nick. He probably knows quite a bit about the both of you.”
She shook her lovely blond head. “I don’t buy it. I was stationary, just like Nick was, and he hit Nick dead center. When he killed that girl, he was aiming at her.”
“Well…you said it sounded like a handgun—”
“It sounded like a cannon, like Nick’s .44, so I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a rifle.”
“How far away was he?”
“Forty meters, at least. Probably fifty.”
“It takes a damned good shot to hit something with a handgun, especially at that distance.”
“He hit Nick. And he got the girl square in the chest.”
Nelson thought about it, then shrugged.
“Maybe you’re right. I guess we won’t know until we get him.”
They chatted for several more minutes, then Nick stirred.
“You know, I think we should take this up tomorrow. I’m not thinking real clear right now. I’m ready to head home.”
Suzanne was instantly on her feet. “Good idea.”
“Okay,” Nelson said. “Get some sleep, and sleep late. Don’t need to see you here before noon at least.”
“Thanks, Luther. I may take you up on that. See you tomorrow.”
Nick made his way stiffly to the door, Suzanne holding his elbow, and they headed home.
Chapter 14
Saturday, January 15, 0444 (CC) – Millennium Village – Alpha Centauri 2
Antiochus Groening was sitting at his desk preparing his Sunday sermon when the door opened and Titus walked in. Groening looked up and noted the red flush on his son’s cheeks—something was up. Titus planted himself in front of the desk, breathing heavily.
“What is it?” Groening demanded.
“Someone tried to kill that Marshal again last night,” Titus said.
“What!” Groening slapped a hand on the desk. “That’s the last thing we need right now! That will bring the Federation down on this region like a swarm of bees!”
Titus nodded. “I know.”
“Was it one of our people?”
“I don’t know. Nobody saw him this time. He actually hit the marshal, but didn’t kill him. I guess Walker wears one of those armored shirts.”
“God bless it!” Groening clambered to his feet and stomped around the room in agitation. “Find out if it’s one of ours, and if it is, I want to see him!”
Titus nodded. “I’m working on it. Of course…”
“What?”
“Well, it could be one of the Homers. They dress a lot like us and people would naturally blame us for it.”
Groening nodded thoughtfully.
“It could also be one of the heathens,” Titus added. “One of them could dress up like one of ours and we’d take the blame.”
Groening pointed a finger at him. “That’s our story if the stupid idiot succeeds. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll try to push it off on the Homers. They’re not all as holy as they pretend to be.”
Titus nodded, but didn’t move. Groening saw something was still bothering him.
“What else?” he demanded.
“Well…” Titus ground his teeth. “Whoever it was fired two shots. The first one hit Walker and the second one killed a girl.”
Groening’s jaw dropped, his beard curling against his shirt.
“A girl!”
“A heathen girl. She was talking to Walker and took a bullet in the chest.”
Groening sat down hard, his blood freezing in his veins. Killing the marshal was one thing—if someone actually pulled it off, the townspeople wouldn’t like it, but they might at least understand it. But killing a child? That would incite outrage against the congregation and bring attention that Groening didn’t need.
“What in God’s name inspired him to shoot a girl? How old was she?”
“Fifteen, sixteen…” Titus squirmed unhappily. “Pop, she was with Maggie Downing. They were both there.”
“Maggie Downing? Ezekiel Downing’s daughter?”
Titus nodded. “That girl’s been running wild lately. We’ve warned her mother to rein her in, but she can’t seem to do it.”
“What time did all this take place?”
“Around nine, nine-thirty.”
“What was the girl doing out at that hour? She should have been at home in bed!”
“Like I said, her mother can’t seem to control her. We’ve warned them repeatedly, but the girl is under the influence of the devil. She was at that orgy they had in the park.”
Groening sat breathing heavily for nearly a minute. Titus stood there, unmoving, waiting for his father’s judgment. Groening buried his face in both hands, praying silently, and finally sat back in his chair. He looked up at Titus.
“This has got to stop. Get the car—I’m going into town.”
Trimmer Springs – Alpha Centauri 2
Nick opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. Bright sunlight from Alpha Prime filled the room—he wondered what time it was.
“How are you feeling?”
Suzanne leaned over him, her right breast flattening out against his chest, her long blond hair dangling around his face.
“Like I was hit by a railsled.”
“Your voice is back to normal,” she said. “Last night you sounded like you had asthma.”
Nick took a couple of deep breaths, wincing slightly as his lungs protested, but his airway felt clear.
“Yeah, no trouble breathing. Lungs are sore, though.”
“They will be for a couple of days.” Her hand slid across his chest, lingering on his battle scars. “I think you’ve had a lot worse than this.”
He nodded.
“Nick, how did you get so many holes in you during the war? Weren’t you wearing a vest then, too?”
“I was. But in their bureaucratic wisdom, someone up the line of command sent us laser vests. The Coalition never used laser weapons.”
“Laser vests don’t work against bullets?”
“Not very well. They deflect small shrapnel, but that’s about it. I mostly got hit by ricochets off that bell.” He sat up and stretched, testing his soreness. It wasn’t too bad if he didn’t exert himself too much.
“You want me to rub your back?” she asked.
He turned to face her, gazing into her lovely green eyes.
“Only if I can rub your front.”
She smiled, and her lush lips found his mouth. She kissed him hard, pushing him back down onto the bed, pressing her full orbs against his chest.
“I think you should take the day off,” she murmured. “Rest up.”
“If I do that, I won’t get any rest. You’ll probably finish the job that gunman started.”
“Can you think of a better way to go?”
He grinned and shook his head. “Nope. But I’m not ready to check out just yet.”
He took her head in both hands and returned the kiss with interest.
“Maybe we can try this tonight, but if we do it now I’m likely to break in two.”
Suzanne sat up and gazed down at him, a little smile on her lips.
“Okay, be an old stick in the mud. Do you want breakfast?”
“Does a hypercat shit in the mountains?”
Nick showered and shaved, and ten minutes later sat down at the kitchen table to a steaming plate of eggs, potatoes, and bacon. Suzanne poured coffee for them both and sat down across from him.
Nick bit off a piece of toast. Suzanne watched him eat.
“Wha
t are you doing today?” she asked.
“I want to check with Dwyer’s people and see what they found. We need to identify that shooter.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No! You’ve been exposed to bullets one time too many. Next time he might decide to target you.”
“Who’s gonna watch your back?”
Nick inclined his head toward the front door. “I saw a police car sitting out front. Looks like Dwyer already sent someone over.”
“Hm. Well, then, I guess I’ll just start planning my boutique.”
Nick looked up with interest. “You’re really going to do that?”
“Don’t you think I should?”
“Absolutely. I think it’s a great idea.”
She smiled. “Me, too. I think it would be more fun than running a restaurant.”
“What will you sell?”
“That’s what I have to figure out. I’m thinking of a fashion line, of course, for teens and young women—at least for starters. Jewelry…and Vegan perfume. Shoes, lingerie, accessories, cosmetics…I’ll start with a small line and see if it sells. If the word gets out and people start coming in, then I can expand. The problem is shipping—it’s two weeks to Vega so any order I place will take at least that long to arrive. I’ll have to be very selective on what I order, and careful not to order too much, in case the idea bombs.”
Nick swigged his coffee.
“You really ought to open a men’s store instead,” he said. “Customers will come in just to look at you. They’ll buy anything you sell just for an excuse to come back.”
She laughed and slapped his hand.
“Be serious.”
“Okay. Judging from that crowd you attracted last night, I think you’re going to succeed. You already know how to run a business, so it’s just a matter of getting the ball rolling.”
“I hope you’re right. Maybe I’ll shop for storefronts later today.”
Nick finished his eggs, drained his coffee, and pushed his chair back.
“Maybe we can meet up for lunch. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Be careful.”
He kissed her and put on his hat, then headed out the front door.
The police car had been sitting there for twenty minutes—Nick had seen it arrive just before he got in the shower. He wasn’t terribly thrilled about having a bodyguard, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea—clearly someone was out to kill him and two pairs of eyes were better than one. He reached the car and leaned in the passenger window.
Carrie King smiled back at him.
“Good morning, Marshal. How are you feeling after last night?”
“A little stiff,” he admitted. “Are you my watchdog for the day?”
“Yes, sir. Chief Dwyer told me not to let you out of my sight.”
Nick nodded, a little at a loss for words.
“You were expecting a man, maybe?” Her eyes challenged him.
“Officer King, I’m not a sexist. If Chief Dwyer thinks you can do the job, then I’m sold.”
Her expression relaxed and her smile widened.
“Good. Why don’t you get in and I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.”
* * *
Most of the cult people in Trimmer Springs lived in a poor neighborhood on the southeast end of town. The ground car carrying Father Groening and his son came out of the mountain pass and made a left at the first cross street, then navigated several narrow streets until it arrived at the Downing home. Titus and Antiochus Groening exited the car, straightened their hats, and stalked pompously across the lawn to the front door. Groening knocked loudly and a moment later a teenage boy opened the door.
“Father!” he gasped in surprise.
“Good morning, Nicodemus. I’m here to see Dorcas.”
Without waiting for a response, Groening pushed the door aside and walked in, Titus on his heels. The boy gave way without hesitation.
“Aunt Dorcas is in the kitchen,” he said. “I’ll get her.”
Before the boy could follow through, Dorcas Downing appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, her face white with fear. She held a dishrag in her hands, strands of pinned-up hair straying across her face. Her eyes were wide with alarm, her lips parted with dread.
“Father Groening,” she whispered.
Groening wasn’t a man to stand on ceremony. “Is Maggie at home?” he demanded.
“Uh—yes, I—I think she’s asleep in her room.”
“Bring her out.” Groening settled into an armchair, his face grim. Titus took the only other chair in the room, two authority figures in command of the situation.
Dorcas looked at the boy, Nicodemus, and swallowed nervously. Nicodemus looked almost as frightened, but said not a word. Dorcas disappeared down a hallway and came back a moment later, the redheaded girl in tow.
Blinking from sleep, Maggie Downing looked angry and sullen as she entered the room, but the moment she saw the two men her expression changed. She turned as white as her mother, and began to tremble. Groening glared at her as if she’d just cursed the Lord, and cleared his throat.
“Magdalene, it has come to my attention that you have been disobedient again.”
Dorcas took a quick step forward. “I can explain that, Father—”
But Groening waved her back with his hand, and she yielded to his authority.
“What do you have to say for yourself, girl?” he demanded.
Maggie stared at him in shock, barely able to breathe.
“I—I don’t… I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Father.”
Groening’s wooden expression turned even harder.
“You have been disobedient so frequently that you are asking which occasion I’m referring to? Is that it?”
Maggie stared at him, then cast a quick glance at her mother. Words failed her.
“You were seen last night!” Groening barked. “Talking to that murderer who killed your father. Did you attend that satanic orgy in the park, too?”
“No, Father! I was near the park, but I never went inside.” Her eyes lit with a flicker of hope, as if that simple omission might save her.
“But you were there! Listening to the devil’s music. You lusted for the sin that was taking place inside. Isn’t that right?”
“No, Father! I don’t lust after sin!”
“Do you lust for that murderer, that…man…with his evil weapons and stupid hat? Is that what’s in your heart?”
“I was only talking to him, Father. And to his wife—he has a wife!”
The front door suddenly opened and the grandmother came in, carrying a bag of groceries. She was looking at the floor as she entered and didn’t see the visitors right away.
“I declare!” she panted, “the heathens in this town are getting worse every day! A righteous woman can’t walk two blocks without—”
She stopped in midsentence as she spotted her religious leader perched in the armchair.
“Antiochus! What are you doing here?”
“Good morning, Drusilla. Come on in. I was just having a heart-to-heart with your granddaughter.”
Drusilla Downing, the same woman who had confronted Nick Walker on the street the day before, closed her mouth and proceeded into the kitchen where she put down her groceries. She returned to the living room and stood to one side while Groening resumed his interrogation.
“Why were you talking to the murderer?” Groening demanded. “What could you possibly have to say to him?”
“Nothing, Father! I was just…”
“Just what? Flirting with him? Do you find him attractive? Do you want to have sex with him?”
Miserably, the girl shook her head. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and she began to sob.
“If you lust after him, you have already committed adultery with him in your heart!” Groening bellowed. “You know the scripture! You’ve been raised in The Truth from infancy! You were dedicated to the Righteous God at birth. You belong to
Him! Your body is a temple of the Holy Ghost and you have no right to defile it with sins of the flesh, or even impure thoughts!”
Maggie covered her face with both hands and wept loudly, shoulders shaking. Dorcas put a hand on her shoulder and pressed her forehead into the girl’s hair.
“You do lust after him, don’t you!” Groening insisted. “Admit it! You desire intercourse with him. You want to have him between your legs. DON’T YOU!”
Maggie dropped to her knees and bent over at the waist, sobbing brokenly.
“I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I can’t help it! He’s a good looking man. I want to marry him!”
“Marry him! Marry a heathen? An infidel? What kind of devilment is this!”
“He’s willing to convert, Father! He told me so! He wants me for his second wife!”
“You’re lying again, Magdalene! You’ve become so decadent that you’ll say anything to save yourself. The devil is controlling your mind! Wickedness has corrupted your soul! I fear you’re very near incorrigible!”
Dorcas stared at her leader with tortured eyes. “Father, please! She’s only a girl! She’ll grow out of it.”
“She’s a woman of marriageable age. Her actions bring shame upon the whole congregation! The heathens are always watching us, always judging. When one of our members sins they call us all hypocrites! And this isn’t the first time she’s sinned.”
“I’ll work with her—”
“You’ve been working with her, Dorcas! She has been warned repeatedly, as have you. Almighty God is patient, but His patience has a limit. I have the congregation to think about, and I cannot permit reproach to befall us. Titus and I will take Magdalene back to the village with us. I’m going to convene the Council, and our decision will be announced tomorrow morning at Sunday services.”
Maggie leaped to her feet and threw her arms around Dorcas.
“Mama! Don’t let them stone me! Please don’t let them stone me! I never did anything! I’m still a virgin! Oh, Mama!”
Dorcas hugged her child frantically, tears soaking her own cheeks. Drusilla stepped forward and stood beside Groening’s chair.
“Antiochus, isn’t there any other way? The girl lost her father! It isn’t Dorcas’ fault.”
Groening clambered to his feet and gazed down at the old woman.