VI
"Monty, I don't know what the devil to make of this crowd,"Loudons said, that evening, after the feast, when they hadentered the helicopter and were preparing to retire.
"We've run into some weird communities--that lot down in NewMexico who live in the church and claim that they have a divinemission to redeem the world by prayer, fasting, and flagellation.
"Or those yogis in Los Angeles--"
"Or the Blackout Boys in Detroit!" Altamont interrupted. He hadgood reason to remember them.
"That's understandable," Loudons said, "after what theirancestors went through in the last war. And so are the others, intheir own way.
"But this crowd here!" Loudons put down his cigar and beganchewing on his mustache, a sure sign that he was more thanpuzzled: he was a very worried man.
Altamont respected his partner's abilities in this area. However,he also knew that the best way to get his friend to work anyproblem was to have him do it in conversation.
"What has you stopped, Jim?"
"Number of things, Monty. They're hard to explain because--" thesociologist shrugged, winced a little as the gesture pushed hisleg down on the edge of his bunk--"well, let me just mentionthem.
"These people are the descendants of an old United States Armyplatoon, yet they have a fully-developed religion centered on aslain and resurrected god.
"Now, Monty, with all due respect to the old US Army, that justdoesn't make sense! Normally, it would take thousands of years for aslain-god religion to develop, and then only in a special situation,from the field-fertility magic of primitive agriculturists.
"Well, you saw those people's fields from the air. Some membersof that old platoon were men who knew the latest methods ofscientific farming. They didn't need naive fairy tales about theplanting and germination of seed."
"Sure this religion isn't just a variant of Christianity?"
"Absolutely not!
"In the first place, these Sacred Books cannot be the Bible--youheard Tenant Jones say that they mentioned firearms that usedcartridges. That means they can't be older than 1860 at theearliest.
"And, in the second place, this slain god wasn't crucified, orput to death by any form of execution: he perished, together withhis enemy, in combat, and both god and devil were laterresurrected."
Loudons picked up his cigar again. "By the way, the Enemy issupposed to be the master-mind back of these cannibal savages inthe woods and also in the ruins."
"Did you get a look at these Sacred Books, or find out what theymight be?"
Loudons shook his head disgustedly. "Every time I brought up thequestion, they evaded me. The Tenant sent the Reader out to bringin this old lady, Irene Klein--she was a perfect gold-mine ofinformation about the history and traditions of the platoon, bythe way--and then he sent the Reader out on some other errand,undoubtedly to pass the word around not to talk to us about theirreligion."
"I don't get that," Altamont said. "They showed meeverything--their gunshop, their powder mill, their defenses,everything."
He smoked in silence for a moment, then added, in an apologetictone, "Jim, I'm sure you've thought of this: the slain godcouldn't be the original platoon commander, could he?"
"I've thought of it, and he isn't, Monty.
"No, definitely not, though they have the greatest respect forhis memory--decorate his grave regularly, drink toasts to him,and so on. But he hasn't been deified. They got the idea for thisgod of theirs out of the Sacred Books."
Loudons put the cigar down again and returned to chewing hismustache. "Monty, this has me worried like the devil:
"I believe that they suspect that you are the Slain and RisenOne!"
Altamont considered the idea, then nodded slowly. "Could be, atthat. I know the Tenant came up to me, very respectfully, andsaid, 'I hope you don't think, sir, that I was presumptuous intrying to display my humble deductive abilities to you.'"
"What did you say?" Loudons demanded rather sharply.
"Told him certainly not, that he'd used a good, quick method ofdemonstrating that he and his people weren't like those mindlesssubhumans in the woods."
"That was all right," Loudons approved, but then his worriesreturned. "I don't know how we're going to handle this--"
"Jim, how about that pows business? Is there something there?"
"Monty!" Loudons voice was drily chiding as he took a pad ofpaper and scribbled briefly. "Take a look and figure foryourself."
Altamont looked at the paper. Loudons had simply printed thefirst three letters of the word in capitals and separated eachletter with a period. "Ouch! Yes, of course, that's what aninfantry platoon would be guarding.
"Go ahead, Jim, this is your end of our business. I'll stay outof it and, especially, I'll keep my mouth shut."
"I don't think you'll be able to," Loudons said soberly. "Asthings stand now, they only suspect that you are their deity.
"And that means this: we're on trial here!"
"We have been in spots like this before, Jim," Altamont remindedhis friend.
"Not like this, Monty, and let me explain.
"I get the impression here that logic, not faith, is the supremereligious virtue. And get this, Monty, because it's somethingpractically unheard of: skepticism is a religious obligation, nota sin!
"I wish I knew...."
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