"We feel that modern society is far too tolerant of loose morals, particularly those disrespectful of our creator," said the young man. "We want to nip that kind of behavior in the bud, you could say."
"Would you mind defining 'nip'?" Tildie requested.
"Penalties are in the pamphlet. You may want to check through them before spending much time in the city." He noted their expressions. "It's really no big deal. Just be respectful, don't make waves, and you'll be fine. We know that New Saints isn't for everybody. If it doesn't suit you, there's a whole other sinful world out there."
"You do realize this is supposed to be Heaven, don't you?" Tildie asked.
"Yes, of course, but there seems to be some misunderstanding of Brian Loving's message. As he wrote, eternal life may be guaranteed, but it is up to us to create the world we wish to live in."
Jamie was getting an increasingly bad feeling from their greeter's cheery words. "We're looking for a friend. Pretty, slim, dark-haired. Probably arrived here three days ago."
Jacob folded his hands on the counter and frowned. "What's her name?"
"Denise Rogers."
His carefully neutral expression made Jamie suspect he already knew exactly who Denise was and what had happened to her.
"Can't say I remember," he said. "We get a lot of people coming through here, as I'm sure you can imagine."
"We have reason to believe she's here," said Jamie.
"I'm sure she simply passed on through."
"You know what I'm sure of?" Jake snarled, drawing his knife and slapping its blade down on the counter. "You're a lying sack of shit."
Jacob sat rock-still and said nothing, his eyes fixed on the blade. "Why are you threatening me? You can't kill me.”
"But we sure as hell can fuck you up." Horner notched an arrow in his bow and drew it, aiming the arrowhead straight between the greeter's eyes.
"Just tell us what's going on with our friend," said Jamie. "No point in lying to us about it. If she's in there, we're going to find her anyway."
Jacob's defiant scowl faded. Finally, he nodded.
"I was trying to save you some grief," he said. "But if you're determined to help your friend, you're going to find it, no matter what I say."
"That's right," Jake snapped. "Though I have a different opinion about who's going to find grief." He leaned across and grabbed Jacob by the throat, dragging him onto the counter. "Now tell us where she is, you prissy little piece of shit!"
"She's in the Central Square," the young man sputtered out. "Straight down the main street that runs through New Saints."
"What's she doing in the Central Square?" Jamie had a bad feeling about the answer.
"She's being crucified."
Her feeling hadn't been that bad. The shock of those words washed over them all. At first, Jamie felt she'd been run over by a spiked steamroller and flattened in the ground. Outrage re-inflated her body.
"Why? Who's responsible for this?'
"Cardinal Fleming gave the order herself after a hearing was held with the Court of Bishops. Your friend spoke blasphemy."
"This Cardinal Fleming is the leader here?"
"Cardinal Amelia Fleming."
Jacob thrust his chest out. Jake shifted his grip to the man's collar and yanked him over the counter until he was standing week-kneed between him and Horner.
"Who's guarding her?" Jake asked.
The young man smiled suddenly, triumphantly, pointed a trembling finger over their shoulders.
"Them," he said. "The Holy Brigade."
Jamie had a profound sinking sensation as she turned with the others to see a dozen men in red and white robes - swords cinched on their waists, spears in hand - bearing down on them. Jake released his hold on Jacob.
"Just when you least expect them," Tildie muttered. "The Spanish Inquisition."
The soldiers formed a semi-circle around them.
"What's going on here?" a mustachioed man demanded.
"These heathens assaulted me!" Jacob cried.
A mustachioed individual fixed a stern gaze on each of them, coming to rest on Jamie, who stepped forward.
"Is this true?" he asked.
"No," said Jamie.
"They are looking for the girl who blasphemed in front of the Cardinal! She is with them!"
The mustachioed soldier raised an eyebrow at Jamie. "She is a friend of yours?"
"Yes. This man told us she is being crucified. There must be some terrible misunderstanding."
"No misunderstanding. She used profane language before the Court and Cardinal Fleming. Profane language in public, and especially against an official or agent of the Court, is strictly forbidden here. Yet mercy was shown her. She only had to repent, and she would've been freed. Instead, she took the name of the Lord in vain. Punishment was mandatory then."
"So you hung her on a cross."
"Nailed."
"That is insane." Jamie held out her hand as Jake and Greg moved toward the leader. "You need to release her to us."
"She will serve out her full sentence of one week, of which five days remain. I would recommend that you wait for her release outside the city. Any attempt to interfere with her punishment would only result in even greater penalties for you."
"I want to talk to the Cardinal."
"You wish to petition her for mercy?"
"Yes." Jamie bit down on the word, motioning downward with one hand as the Mayhem Brothers started rumbling. "Mercy."
"Come with us. But please understand that once you enter the city, you must abide by its rules and are liable for violations."
"We'll try to behave ourselves."
"That would be a good idea."
They started into town, the soldiers forming lines on either side of them, while the mustached leader walked with Jamie.
"I'm Lieutenant Don Welling," he said.
"Jamie." She glanced at him. "Can I ask what you did on Earth?"
"I worked for the New York Police Department." He glanced at her. "I know what you're thinking, Jamie. I like to bang heads. You're wrong. After trying to enforce laws and make the scumbags behave, I realized that I wasn't making a difference. Society was too far gone. I see now that you have to start at the beginning, stop the slippery slope of immorality before it begins. That's what we're doing here."
"I find it hard to believe many 'scumbags' would choose to join the Last Days Church."
"You might be surprised. People didn't lose their sin when they crossed over. It's a long process. We're doing your friend a favor, really, by forcing her to deal with the consequences of her behavior."
"By torturing her."
"By giving her the chance to reflect on her life and what she wants to do with the rest of eternity."
"You can't really believe that bullshit, can you, Lieutenant Welling?"
"I need to remind you that foul language in public within city limits is against the law, Jamie. I'll overlook it this time, but I will be forced to arrest you if you do it again."
Jamie bit her tongue and looked away from his flinty gaze. He was like her uptight fourth grade English teacher with a sword.
They arrived at an imposing brick building that in Jamie's eyes combined the worst features of a church and a government administration quarters: square and blunt and several stories high, but with some stained glass windows and a steeple on top.
"The people here didn't have time to build this, did they?" she asked.
"No. Most of the buildings and supplies were already waiting here. The first ones here took that as a clue about how people should live in this place."
"And a bunch of clueless dumb-asses did what they wanted them to like mindless sheep."
"Fair warning." Lieutenant Welling regarded Jake coldly. "If you speak any further obscenities, I will arrest you."
"First dude who tries to arrest me is gonna end up short a nut sack."
"We have swords," Welling pointed out with a thin smile. "You have knives."
Jamie rea
ched out to restrain the hot-headed former Marine. "All right, Jake – "
"How 'bout I put one of those swords up your fucking ass?"
Too late. A sense of stoic fatality invaded Jamie as the twelve soldiers drew their swords. Jake and Hulk moved without hesitation. Jake closed in and locked Lieutenant Welling's arm at the elbow, planting a knife in his sternum with his free hand. Horner dropped a nearby Holy Brigadier with a groin-kick and punched another in the throat.
In the melee that followed, Jamie had little idea what to do without her super powers. Nor did the rest of the team. Except, strangely, Thomas Mayes, who leaped into the fray fists swinging, seizing a soldier's sword and hacking away until someone drove a spear through his back. Tildie and Joy Kamada dropped to their knees, hands raised in surrender, while the others backed away, neither fighting nor quite surrendering.
Jamie was in that class until a soldier swooped in and placed the point of his sword against her chest. Something in her snapped. She slapped the sword aside and drove in with her knee – the extent of what she remembered from a two-day self-defense course she'd taken in college – but her opponent simply stepped back and plunged his sword into her chest.
I can't die here. Yet the electric blossoming of pain promised death. And as the world dimmed she couldn't help but wonder if this might truly be the end.
JAMIE AWAKENED in a dark place faintly illuminated by flickering light. At first she thought she was under a bridge at night since heavy stone columns rose on either side of her, but then she saw that the stones formed walls and the light was entering through a small grated opening. The floor was cold and moist and so was the air, with the same smoky aftertaste that blanketed the city. Other than a deep, throbbing pain in her chest, she felt okay.
Prison cell? Dungeon?
The sounds of breathing, stirring, and soft groans - a motif that had plagued most of her team's awakenings since arriving here – told Jamie she was not alone in the dank cell.
"Is everyone here?" she asked into the darkness.
"Everyone who is anyone." Tildie.
"Where are we?" Jay.
"If this is heaven, I'd sure hate to see hell," said Tildie with a forced chuckle.
"They locked us up," said Belinda. "They ripped up Jake and Hulk pretty good."
"Just a couple scratches," Hulk grunted. "We ripped them pretty good, too."
"Damn...straight," Jake rasped.
"What about you, Jamie?" Tildie asked. "I saw you take some hits while I was cowering on the ground."
"You were the smart one," said Jamie. "I'm okay. But there's a rock or something digging into my back."
"Yeah, you'd think they'd at least provide blankets to sleep on between beatings and crucifixions. What's wrong with these people?"
An hour or two later, locks rattled and the cell door opened. Soldiers in red and white garb entered with torches and heavy chain manacles. Lieutenant Welling wasn't among them. Apart from streaks of dried blood and torn clothing and grim expressions Jamie didn't see any obvious injuries.
They hauled Jamie and the others to their feet, slapped manacles around their wrists and ankles, and escorted them in a slow shuffle out of the cell and down a torch-lit corridor. Two ascending flights of stairs took them to a large open room. Varicolored sunlight from a dozen stained glass windows shone over bare wood floors and rows of tables attended by individuals scribbling on and reading from stacks of papers with an air of bureaucratic officiousness. As they were led past them toward a pair of stately doors, Jamie saw they were handwriting copies from a single written source. They made her think of monks working for the DMV.
The soldiers/guards flung the two doors open and they entered into what appeared to be church, and were led down an aisle between pews to the sanctuary area. A group of men sat behind a long table on the altar or stage, dressed in flowing red, white, and black gowns. They halted a discussion they were having and regarded the DARE team gravely as the soldiers shoved them into a kneeling position before the altar.
A woman wearing a royal blue velvet dress and a gold vestment with a brilliant red cross flowed into the room, as if she were riding an invisible conveyor belt. She didn't look like any woman Jamie had ever seen: blond, almost silver hair, pale skin, eyes that seemed to large for her face. Even from several feet away, Jamie could see they were a strangely translucent blue. Her face was more unusual than attractive: broad planes and sharp angles and fine features fused into an oval shape that wouldn't have been out of place in sixteenth century England – she reminded Jamie of those round-faced women so often portrayed in paintings from that period – but the too-large eyes spoiled that image.
She sat behind the row of apparent officials or judges in a blue upholstered chair that fell just short of being a throne and joined the officials in eyeing them.
"Please read the charges, Bishop Gucci."
"Yes, Cardinal Fleming."
A man in the center of the row stood and ruffled through a sheaf of papers.
"These thirteen individuals resisted arrest of Chapter Five of the Holy Brigade and grievously attacked its members. In addition, one of their group is guilty of felonious use of language."
"And their group is associated with the woman, Denise Rogers, currently serving out a crucifixion sentence for the latter felony?"
"Yes, Cardinal."
"The girl claimed to be a member of the U.S. Department of Augment Regulation and Enforcement. Do we know if these other individuals are also affiliated with DARE?"
"No, your Holiness, we do not know, but that is implied."
"Then let's find out." The Cardinal gazed over their shoulders to a hostile line of faces, sighting in on Jamie. "Are you the leader?"
"Yes," said Jamie.
"Please stand and introduce yourself."
"I am Jamie Shepherd, Commander of DARE Interdiction and Enforcement Division unit Team One."
"How did you come to be here?"
"You mean this city or this world?"
"The latter."
"Brian Loving opened a door for us."
"You came not seeking paradise or salvation but to conduct a United States Government operation?"
"Yes." Though the woman's face remained utterly neutral, Jamie had the sense of venturing further and further out on thin ice.
"For what purpose?"
"We believe this place is a kind of virtual reality created by an alien civilization. Our mission here is to shut down the program and eliminate the alien threat."
Jamie watched each word register in gathering shock on the panel of Bishops or whatever they were. She took some satisfaction in their startled, disbelieving, and apprehensive faces and in saying those words. Only the Cardinal appeared unmoved, though perhaps a corner of her mouth twitched in the possibility of a smile.
"You are being serious?" Cardinal Fleming asked.
"Yes. Completely serious."
"You believe God is an alien?" Now the woman was openly smiling.
"God, if he exists, has nothing to do with this place."
"Cardinal, this is outrageous!" cried the original spokesman. "This is blasphemy!"
"These are devils among us!" another man declared. "Enemies of our paradise!"
"You people have a strange idea of paradise," said Jamie.
The woman folded her hands and contemplated Jamie and her team with her strange, lovely eyes that continued to betray little emotion.
"How did you come to power here anyway?" Tildie asked. "Looks like a pretty male-centric Old Testament kind of place."
Cardinal Fleming’s intense gaze made the former librarian avert her eyes. "I was appointed because of miracles shown through me."
"What miracles?" Jamie asked.
Cardinal Fleming stood up, smoothing out her dress while the men in front of her affected distinctly uncomfortable expressions. She held out her arms and levitated several feet into the air.
"She's kept her augment powers!" Tildie whispered to Jamie.
The Cardinal descended to the floor. The men never turned around to watch. Instead they studiously regarded their hands or some other place far removed from her.
"Back on Earth, many of us could do that," said Jamie.
"But this is not Earth," intoned Bishop Gucci. "We have been restored to normal humans here. Cardinal Fleming is one of the very few to be granted unusual powers by God's grace."
"Bullshit," Jake coughed.
Bishop Gucci, tightlipped, nodded to one of the guards, who drove the butt of his spear into the back of the former Marine's head. Jake slumped forward, his face slapping down on the wood floor.
Jamie lunged to her feet. A guard readied the butt of his spear, but Cardinal Fleming raised a hand.
"Speak, Commander Shepherd."
"You just assaulted a federal agent of the United States Government," Jamie spit out. "In our world, that's a felony."
"But I'm sure you've noticed you're not in your world."
That drew some soft chuckles and thin smiles from her court.
"We don't recognize your authority or your laws," said Jamie. "And when this is over, I promise you personally that I will bring you and any other responsible parties to justice for what you've done to us and our friend."
Cardinal Fleming regarded Jamie with a thoughtful smile. A silence followed that was long enough to prompt some restless stirring among the soldiers.
"What does my court say?" she asked.
"We find the defendants guilty of all crimes," said Bishop Gucci, "and vote for the harshest possible penalty: burning at the stake for one week." The rest of the men raised their hands and murmured "Aye."
"I accept your verdict and sentence."
Cardinal Fleming walked around them and stepped down from the altar to stand within a few feet of Jamie. Up close, her large, bright blue eyes and Botticelli features were even more surreal.
"Through purifying pain," she said, "you may find your way to where you seek, Commander Shepherd."
"You're not going to get away with this. You will pay for what you've done."
"Perhaps that is inevitable." She said it with a soft sigh. "But sometimes to do what is right requires sacrifice. I am prepared to pay that price."
Jamie cocked her head at her. Something was not jibing in her words and the expression in her eyes.
Super World Page 49