The Devil's Colony

by Bill Schweigart

  Lindsay was shielding Ben, heaving deep sobs, and screaming at Breaux and Felix and Drexler that they were monsters, the lot of them.

  Breaux waved it away. “He was making a hell of a racket, so Hendrix shot him full of horse. He ain’t feeling no pain.” A quick laugh escaped from Breaux, and he pointed at Lindsay. “Horse.”

  Severance crouched down next to them and put his hand on Ben’s arm.

  “I’ll fix this, McKelvie. Make you good as new, I promise.” He tried to keep it breezy, but spoke firmly enough so that Ben might comprehend him through the cloud of pain and heroin. He stood and faced Henry. “You’ll pay for this.”

  “You think I’m trying to avoid judgment? I welcome it, Richard.” He turned to his security chief. “Even so, this was…excessive, Mr. Breaux. Unnecessary.”

  Breaux shrugged. “The boys got bored waiting.”

  “Breaux told us he was a rat,” said Felix.

  “And I’m the one who informed Mr. Breaux of that fact.” He looked back to Breaux. “I’m not paying you to be a sadist.”

  “Mr. Drexler, with all due respect, you’re paying me to mind the shop and not ask questions while you…do whatever the hell it is you’re doing. I ain’t questioning your methods, so don’t go questioning mine.”

  Drexler sighed. “Very well. I suppose it doesn’t matter. You won’t have to do it much longer.”

  Severance looked around the office. It was crowded. Seated at the desk was Drexler, with Lindsay and Ben entwined on the floor in front of it. Alex and Davis stood along the wall with the Nazi paraphernalia, but inches from it, as if they were afraid to let it touch their skin. Breaux was in the room now, along with the man with the ice-blue eyes from the diner. Severance looked into those eyes now. They were surprised, uncomprehending of the scene that was unfolding before him, but Severance found no remorse there, no sympathy. If Severance and his party tried to make a break for it or decided to fight their way out, a half-dozen Black Cadre had filed into the room with Breaux and Felix and now stood along the back wall. Beyond them, a hostile camp. And beyond that, a thick pine forest, where a mindless killing machine lurked.

  This was going to play out however Drexler wanted it to.

  “Is everything ready outside?” asked Drexler.

  Breaux nodded. “I hate to be gauche at a time like this, but with it raining billionaires and the woods spitting out commandos, there is the matter of final payment…”

  “Of course.” Drexler produced a key and opened a locked drawer on his desk. He removed something and dropped it on the desktop. It was solid and the sound of it silenced everyone in the room except Ben, who was groaning, and Lindsay, who held him. The gold was six inches long and half an inch thick, the size of a large chocolate bar or a small tablet. In the light of Drexler’s desk lamp, the gold shone and Severance read clearly DEUTSCHE REICHSBANK beneath the Nazi eagle clutching the swastika emblem. Along the bottom was stamped DR, followed by a serial number.

  Breaux stepped forward and hefted the bar. He marveled at the gold, bouncing it in his hand and smiling.

  “Nice.”

  Drexler came around to the front of the desk and removed a slip of paper from his pocket.

  “As promised,” he said, passing him the note. “Go to these coordinates and you’ll find the rest.”

  “I hope my work has spoken for itself, Mr. Drexler. Mostly so I won’t need to tell you what happens if I get there and it’s an empty hole.”

  “You’ll get yours, Mr. Breaux, I assure you. You won’t be able to carry it all.” He smiled and offered his hand. Breaux observed it, then passed the gold tablet to his left hand and shook.

  Breaux smiled. “Don’t you worry, I’ll lift with my knees.”

  “There’s just our last bit of business then.”

  Breaux sighed. He nodded toward the men in the back of the room and it became a melee. The Black Cadre lunged into the office, seizing everyone in Severance’s party. Alex and Davis whirled like dervishes, knocking framed photographs from the wall with a crash, but more guards poured in from the hallway. Two made it to Severance and pinned his arms behind his back. Another pulled Lindsay off Ben. Ben lay there helpless, either unaware of what was happening or too far gone to do anything about it, able only to roll toward the sound of Lindsay’s screaming.

  Drexler threaded his way through the crowded office. He knelt between her and the wall of books.

  “Henry, please,” she pleaded.

  He reached out and touched her face. “I’ve done my best not to lie to you. And I’m telling you true…what’s coming?” He shook his head.

  “What’s coming?” she asked.

  He looked over her shoulder at Severance. “Judgment.”

  “It’s not too late to call it off. We can still go. We can still walk out of here.”

  Drexler smiled wistfully. “You’ve been a kindness in my last days, Lindsay Clark.”

  “Don’t,” said Severance. His arms were locked behind him. He felt queasy.

  Breaux pulled Davis’s pistol, the 1911, from the small of his back and held it at his side.

  Davis screamed from under a pile of guards. “Don’t do it, Breaux. Mother! Jesus Christ!”

  “I’ll hold on to that kindness,” continued Drexler. “I know you won’t understand it, but this is mercy.”

  “Henry!” screamed Severance, thrashing.

  Drexler stepped away, leaving Lindsay to face the rows and rows of books alone.

  She struggled, knowing what was coming, but two Black Cadre held her arms in place. She stopped finally, her eyes locking straight ahead.

  “Oh God,” she said.

  “Lindsay!” yelled Richard.

  “I know what’s coming,” she said. “It’s Love—”

  The roar of the pistol snuffed out all other sound in the room. Lindsay Clark fell to the floor, dead, her blood rolling down the spines of the books and pooling around her head like a crimson halo.

  Chapter 43

  The familiar bite of gunpowder burned Davis’s nose. The Black Cadre hauled him to his feet, but he didn’t feel much like standing. He had seen lives taken before and had taken plenty himself, but this was an execution. Murder. Ben’s terrible keening filled the cramped room. Even beaten unrecognizable and pumped full of heroin, he had seen it too, and Davis was listening to a man who had just lost his mind. He had seen men release their grip on sanity over far less.

  “Felix,” said Drexler sharply.

  The younger man was staring at the spreading blood on the floor, transfixed.

  “Still doubt my resolve?”

  Felix stared at his father, his mouth open, as if he had been speaking but forgot the next word.

  “You wanted a revolution. It starts tonight. But I need you by my side, son. Are you with me?”

  Felix looked at Lindsay’s body, then back up at his father. He nodded slowly, dreamily.

  Drexler smiled. “Good.”

  “Revolution?” spat Severance. “She was innocent. She was a zoologist, for God’s sake!”

  Drexler ignored him. “Mr. Breaux, get everyone ready in the clearing. The main event is about to begin.”

  “If I may, I have an idea to prime the crowd.” He nodded toward Davis. “But I’ll need him.”

  Drexler looked at Breaux, then Davis, and back again. “Very well. Then our business will be concluded.”

  “Aye,” said Breaux. “Gotta say, Mr. Drexler, it’s been, well, weird. Come on, Galahad.”

  The Black Cadre practically lifted Davis off his feet and forced him through the door. He could not break their grip. He threw a look over his shoulder and saw Alex struggling with all his might but to no avail. Three guards were on him, their limbs wrapping around his throat, pinning his arms, and encircling him at the knees.

  Then Davis was out of the office, borne down the dark hallway, through the house, and out into the night, where the crowd stood waiting. A whole mob, just for him. All the electric lights aroun
d camp had been extinguished, and the night was lit by torchlight. In such a setting, the lack of white hoods was a shock. Then it dawned on him, with bitterness, that no one here felt the need to hide their faces.

  Breaux led him down the porch stairs and the crowd parted. They marched across the field, hundreds in tow. There was no talking his way out of what was coming, but he had to know. Had to try to understand.

  “You just murdered someone. A woman. A civilian.”

  Breaux did not answer. He marched ahead of him in silence.

  “And what you did to Ben…what the hell happened to you, Mother?”

  “Worry about your own neck, Galahad.”

  Davis looked ahead then. The second stage came into view. Instead of sitting atop pilings, resembling a pier without an ocean, the structure had been completed, its base enclosed, giving the foundation a more solid appearance. And on its platform was a hastily erected overhead brace with a single rope thrown over it.

  Chapter 44

  Several Black Cadre pointed guns at him, but Alex didn’t see them. He was staring at Lindsay. He fought with all of his might against the ones pinning him to the wall, even though his strength felt like it was leaking as if from a bucket with a jagged hole.

  Resistance was futile, but he didn’t care. He wrenched his body and head-butted one of the guards next to him. The guard immediately released him and brought his hands to his nose, freeing one of Alex’s arms.

  If I had my club, I would tear through this room like a hurricane.

  Before he could swing his free arm, another guard appeared in front of him. Alex turned his head in time to see the butt of the pistol coming. His legs gave way. One moment he was standing, the next he was sitting with his back against the wall, free. It was hard to think. He didn’t understand why no one was holding him anymore. Perhaps the room was spinning for them too.

  Fresh commotion brought him around again. When he looked up, he saw Severance, his face empurpled with rage. Alex swung his head to what he was screaming at. There was a new guard at the door, a young, buck-toothed skinhead with a bad complexion, and he was holding Severance’s girlfriend. Her name escaped him.

  Come on, Alex. Think straight.

  Richard was screaming “why” and Drexler was talking about distractions. She didn’t matter now. Alex never mattered. It was about the two of them and always had been.

  Drexler signaled to his men and the Black Cadre hoisted Severance up and hauled him toward the door. Severance’s girlfriend—Mirabelle?—called his name and reached a hand toward him, but a guard shoved her roughly from the doorway to let them pass. She stumbled, stopping just short of careening over Lindsay’s body. This sight of his dead friend seemed to take the fight out of her as well. From his seated position, Alex watched her face and waited for her to scream, but she was too stunned to speak, let alone shout. She looked at Drexler with a withering gaze as he passed, flanked by his own guards and trailed by his son, and he met it without a word. Alex found his words then and called after him.

  “I was right,” said Alex.

  Drexler turned, framed in the doorway.

  “When you first set foot on the rez,” said Alex. He sneered, though it was painful. “I sensed it even then.”

  “Sensed what?” asked Drexler.

  “You were no better than the monsters you chased.”

  Drexler ignored the barb, instead addressing the remaining Black Cadre in the room.

  “They’re all yours.”

  The guard who had brought Severance’s girlfriend in closed the office door after Drexler left. Alex watched his hand brush against the knob, find the lock, and turn it. He brought his other hand up to his face, and when he turned around, he was cupping his hand over his mouth as if he were stifling a cry. Then he pulled his hand away to reveal a wide grin. He began to giggle. One by one, the giggling spread to the other guards in the room like a virus, and Alex stiffened.

  The Black Cadre, he thought. They’re redmouths.

  Chapter 45

  Davis revolted. Without a word, he used the two guards who pinned his arms behind him as leverage and lifted his legs off the ground. He aimed to drop-kick Breaux, but the man sidestepped and another guard took Alex’s feet to the face instead.

  “Jesus Christ,” said Breaux, exasperated. “Would you stop being so goddamn selfish and look at it from my point of view? I’m in a tough spot here. You think it’s been easy maintaining order in this shithole? These people aren’t spec ops. Hell they’re not even buck privates. Most are animals. Sometimes you have to use the stick, sometimes the carrot. And sometimes you need to throw them a little red meat.”

  Davis thrashed. Though he wanted to, he did not yell—every nerve ending in his body was alight—but he refused to give Breaux the satisfaction. More guards rushed in and grabbed hold of his bucking legs and hoisted him overhead. The Black Cadre lifted him up, and in the manner of hauling a roll of carpet, walked him up the stairs to the gallows.

  They put him down feetfirst on the platform and Davis was able to look Breaux in the eye finally.

  “You’re going to hang me. A Bravo Red.” He jutted his chin toward the ravenous crowd. It was the only part of his body that could move. “For them.”

  “Christ, were you always this sensitive? It’s not like you were ever leaving this camp alive. What’s the difference?”

  Breaux proffered a black hood.

  Davis looked at it and sneered.

  “Didn’t think so,” Breaux said and pitched it aside. By now the guards had tied Davis’s hands behind his back and his feet together at the ankles. Breaux stepped behind him and dropped the noose over his head. He cinched it around his neck, then walked around to face him again. With Davis bound and the noose in place, the Black Cadre had backed off to the edge of the platform.

  “Get off the fucking stage,” Breaux ordered them.

  The handful of guards walked down the stairs, leaving the two men alone.

  Breaux sighed heavily. “Well, here we are.”

  Davis looked past him, over his shoulder, over the tops of the trees and into the sky. Beyond this place. Ready for the next.

  “Remember what I used to tell the Reds? What I told you on your very first day?”

  Davis did but he was out of words.

  “ ‘I’ll give you enough rope to hang yourself,’ ” said Breaux. He laughed a little at this and shook his head. “I know you don’t see it that way, but I always gave you more than enough rope, Galahad. I want you to remember that.”

  “Go to hell,” said Davis.

  “You first,” said Breaux.

  Breaux resumed his position behind Davis. Davis could not see him, but he knew he was standing by the lever. The waiting was interminable. He became aware of the catcalls then, the venomous crowd, trying to get his attention in his last few moments.

  Don’t look at them, he thought. Don’t look down. Look up.

  Then, in rapid succession, he heard the lever thrown, the trapdoor fell open, and the darkness rushed up and swallowed him whole.

  Chapter 46

  Drexler led Severance through the crowd to the main stage. The people of Välkommen paid them no attention; they had their backs to Drexler’s procession, which consisted of a handful of Black Cadre silent as the grave, Severance, a helpless and broken McKelvie, and Felix. Along the way, they picked up two of Felix’s hangers-on, the man with the strange tattoos and the Confederate wannabe.

  Drexler ordered the guards to unhand Severance. There was nothing he could do, nowhere he could run, and they all knew it.

  They mounted the stage and when Severance looked out across the field he saw why the crowd paid no attention to them. Across the sea of people was a second stage. It took a moment for his eyes to detect by the torchlight that it was not a stage at all, but a gallows, and at its center stood Davis.

  One moment Galahad was there, the next, gone.

  Severance closed his eyes and felt his knees go weak. Firs
t Lindsay, now Davis. And God knew what the guards were doing to Alex and Miranda at that moment. And he and Ben were next.

  All was lost.

  He said a silent prayer commending his friends’ spirits to a better place, if such a place existed. He thought of asking forgiveness for himself, but if such a place truly existed and was lorded over by someone gracious enough to grant it, Severance knew he didn’t deserve it. Then Drexler tapped the microphone and the crowd turned. Their frenzy at a public execution…Severance knew that even the most forgiving entity would turn its eyes from this place.

  “Are you not entertained?” said Drexler.

  The crowd roared, a sustained cheer that echoed off the trees. By the torchlight, Severance saw their faces contorted in ecstasy. They pumped their fists in the air and hurled curses onto the stage, hungry for more. Välkommen was in full flower.

  Drexler looked back at Severance, as if their response had settled an argument between them.

  He turned from the microphone stand and walked back to Severance, a dagger in his hand. A member of the Black Cadre rushed up behind Severance and seized him around the throat. Severance brought his arms up and clutched at the choke hold. He tried to thrash, but it was too strong.

  “Felix, Anson—hold him.”

  They hesitated.

  “If you boys want a brave new world, you can’t be afraid to get a little blood on your hands.” He looked at his son then and spoke intently. “Please, Felix.”

  Felix breathed through his nose like a bull, psyching himself up. He grabbed Severance’s arm and pulled it away from the choke hold. Anson did the same with the other arm. Severance’s chest was wide open, his heart beneath it beating like a jackhammer.

  “My father’s journals…the incantation is very specific. To call down what I’m calling down, I need to spill the blood of a brother.”

  “Henry,” croaked Severance.

  “I’m truly sorry, Richard,” said Drexler, rearing back with the dagger, “but there’s no other way.”