Finally, it was silent again down below and one of the black-robed figures stepped to the front of the platform as the crowd watched in horrified silence.
"People of Wareham, you have the honor to be at the beginning of the New America." The man's voice was rich and deep. It rolled across the distance between the platform and where they hid beneath the trees. It was as American as Uncle Sam and apple pie. However hauntingly similar this might be to the worst atrocities of Al-Qaeda, plainly at least some of those involved had been grown out of the native soil.
"But with that honor comes a dreadful responsibility. For the seed from which the New America will form must be pure. Any flaw that remains as we spread across this cursed country, rebuilding it brick by brick, will be amplified and cause fractures that will bring our vision of peace crashing down again. We do not wish for the suffering of the past weeks to be repeated and so we must be unwavering in these early days."
The voice died away as Devon listened in horror. He could see no reaction from the watching crowd. They seemed as frozen in their dread as he was. He just hoped that Jessie would do the sensible thing and drive away before they found her.
"This woman," the man continued, his arm swinging around to point at Anna, "harbored spies among us. Spies from the old world. She knows that we admit only the New Pilgrims handpicked by our agents. We do not allow others to pollute our brotherhood. And here is a Jezebel," he was now gesturing at Amanda, who stood shaking gently. "She has confessed to living a shameful life and seeks to spread her wickedness among us, defiling our new world."
Devon could see movement among the New Pilgrims, but it stopped before he could identify where it came from.
The man now moved to where Margie stood, hunched and sobbing, blood dripping onto the wood at her feet. "And as for this … aberration, this mockery of the creator's image. Of what possible use is she other than to weaken us? How are we to spread across and cleanse the country if we carry with us the defective? At best she is a burden on us.
"It is the conclusion of the council that our blessed community will be cleansed of the corruption of these three. Traitor, whore and defective," he pointed at each as he paced across the platform. "In front of this congregation and in sight of heaven, justice is to be done unto them. Now!"
Margie was pushed forward, screaming as she was grabbed by the shoulder.
"No! Margie!"
Someone was moving through the crowd of New Pilgrims, resisting all attempts to stop her. "That must be Sam," Devon said, pulling out his gun and looking across at Noah. But he wasn't there.
Devon gasped as he spotted Noah running down the grass slope. Beyond him, Sam had almost reached the front of the crowd, but three of the black figures had surged toward her, rifles leveled. Devon burst from cover as Noah reached the platform.
"Noah, bist du es?" someone called. Some among the Amish moved toward the platform.
Margie screamed as the knife came down.
Two men in black grabbed Sam and began hauling her.
"Kill them!" the leader bellowed.
Devon stopped. He was still on the slope, higher than the platform and, for one moment, with a clear line of sight. He didn't think. Didn't remember that when he fired, Jessie would come. He just brought his weapon up, sighted along the barrel, and squeezed. He missed, but just at that moment the struggling Margie ducked below his eyeline and, for an instant, the executioner's head stood in isolation against the church behind. He squeezed the trigger, and it was gone.
Now there was movement everywhere. In the chaos, Sam broke free of her captors and ran onto the platform. And Devon knew it was hopeless. There were too many of them, most with assault weapons that would pick off resistance in moments. With a shock of panic he remembered Jessie. Any moment now, she would emerge into the heart of pandemonium and they would all be taken.
Then he saw Noah emerge onto the platform and grab for his wife. His voice rose above all others. "Hilf mir! Stoppe sie!"
As one, the Amish moved, like a black and white sea surging toward a raft. Now the guards didn't know where to point their weapons.
But the Amish didn't attack. They simply locked arms and walked toward the platform, eventually engulfing it, the men in the first wave and the women behind. In moments, the guards were hemmed in so much they couldn't bring their weapons to bear. The Amish began singing. It was obviously a hymn, though the words were strange to Devon, and their voices grew louder as they drew tighter around their oppressors.
"Get away!" their leader yelled from somewhere within the press. "You will be punished! Get away!"
Devon ran up to the platform, jumping up just as a Land Rover swerved into view around the church. Jessie was at the wheel, accelerating toward the crowd, eyes wide with terror.
He reached down and grabbed someone. "Sam Hickman?"
"Who the hell are you?" She swung around, fists raised.
"I'm with Jessie Summers, remember her?"
Sam's mouth dropped open. "What?"
"Over there!"
She followed his outstretched arm until she spotted the Land Rover. "Jessie? What the f—"
A hand pulled at his shoulder. "I have Anna and Amanda. We must go, Devon. Now!" Noah's face was exultant and terrified at the same time.
"Where's Margie?"
"I don't know, perhaps she ran?"
No, she'd fallen, Devon was certain of it. There was no way she could have snuck out of the circle. Then he had an idea.
"Princess Fiona?" he yelled, moving along the press of jostling people and looking between them. "Princess Fiona?"
The Land Rover had made it to the platform and Noah pulled the others toward it.
"Fiona!" He couldn't leave without her, but he knew the resolve of the crowd would break once Noah and Anna were clear. The men in black were now completely disabled, their rifles and knives gently taken from them. The hymn filled the valley. Devon hoped with all his heart that all the Sons were here, because this noise would attract any stragglers and a couple of them with automatic weapons would be more than a match for the Amish.
"Shrek?!" A hand appeared in the air like the desperate plea of a drowning soul.
He plunged toward her, slipped, hauled himself up by grabbing arms, elbows and shoulders and then clasped her hand and pulled. He guided her downwards where there was a gap between two men and grasped her in an embrace as he lifted her again.
"You came for me, Sir Shrek!" she cried.
"Always."
"Do not suffer the retard to live! Or do you wish her for some other purpose, spawn of the devil?"
Devon looked into the face of the leader. His black hood had come off and he was revealed to be a surprisingly young man with a beard and bald head. The sort of person you'd pass on the subway without looking twice. Except for the expression of pure malicious hatred on his twisted face.
"You want her for yourself, don't you? Freak!"
Devon pushed Margie toward the waiting car, raised his weapon and the air filled with red mist. A cry went up, and the singing stopped. He could have killed all the remaining black-clothed guards, picking them off one by one, but he couldn't tell which were the remaining executioners and wasn't prepared to shoot all seven guards to be sure of killing those who most deserved it.
As the crowd dissolved, he jumped down from the platform and ran to the car, throwing himself into the front passenger seat as Jessie put her foot on the gas. "Where's Noah and Anna?" he asked, looking over at the back seat where Amanda and Margie sat sobbing beside a white-faced Sam.
"They've run for it. They want to stand by their community, so they're going to hide."
"Fools," Devon spat. He couldn't imagine what the Sons would do when they were released.
"There wasn't room for everyone," Jessie said, putting her hand on his arm. "Let's get out of here."
Sam put her hand on Jessie's shoulder. "Not yet," she said. "We have to get Jay."
"What?!"
She pushed th
e door open, then shouted above the sound of the wheels spinning on grass. "We've got to get Jay or I'm jumping out!"
Devon looked across at the crowd by the church. The platform stood like a rock pool on an ebbing tide as they retreated, the black-clothed figures still gathered together, kneeling beside the body of their leader. "Look, if we don't get away now, we might not get away at all."
"I'm not going without him! I left him before and I won't do it again. I don't know who you are, but I'll do it, I'll jump!"
He looked across at Jessie as she brought the car under control and headed for the main road. She shrugged. "She will. This is Paul Hickman's daughter, after all."
"My dad? Is he okay?"
"Yeah," Devon said. "He's alright. Where's this Jay?"
She pointed past the church. "I don't know for sure, but they care for the sick somewhere along there. I've seen it before when we've come to pray."
Ping-ping-ping.
"What the hell?" Devon swung around to see a man in black running across the field toward them. The Amish hadn't managed to seize every weapon, it seemed.
"Head for that building," he said, gesturing at a white wood house that faced the main road.
Jessie stabbed down on the gas and the car swerved back and forth across the wet grass before finally reaching the stability of the asphalt.
"Stop here," Devon said.
"What are you doing?"
He thumbed over his back. "I'm gonna deal with him first. Then I'll go get this Jay. If he's there."
Sam pulled at the door. "I'll come."
"No, you won't! We've come clear across the country to get you, so you can just stay put. Margie and Amanda need you more than I do."
Then he turned to Jessie. "Take the car along this road to the next settlement and wait for me there. Unless you're followed—in that case do whatever you can to get away and make your own way back."
"Dev …"
But he was gone. Then he reappeared at the window, pulled the door open, planted a kiss on her lips and told her he loved her. She wasn't sure he heard her reply.
Chapter 15: Rescue
Devon risked one glance at the Land Rover as it sped away before pressing himself against the front of the house, listening for any sign of their pursuer. He slid along until he reached a window. It was dark inside, and he could just see light coming through another glass pane on the side of the house. A shadow moved quickly across it and he knew where the man was.
He crept along the front of the house to the farther corner and waited. The man was an idiot. He hadn't given any thought to whether they'd stopped the car, he just plunged out from cover and, seeing the car heading off along the road, he raised his gun.
From out of the darkness, Devon squeezed the trigger, and the man fell without a sound. Devon kneeled beside the body, searching the pockets for ammunition. It had been a clean shot to the chest, death instantaneous, and he was glad he couldn't see beneath the black mask. Somehow, the anonymity made it easier to lock down his emotions and do what needed to be done without thinking of the hunk of flesh beneath him as human. He grabbed the rifle and a spare magazine and, with one more glance at the retreating Land Rover, he darted off toward the church.
To his left, fields ran up to the brow of a hill; to his right, an odd brick building of red peeling paint with a door on the second floor. He darted across the road as he spotted the crowd moving quickly out of the church. Buggies jockeyed for position in their haste to get away. He wondered how many would deny being part of this gentle rebellion and what price they would pay.
Sensing that he had very little time before the surviving guards would regroup, he ran into the parking lot and hid behind one of the remaining buggies parked at the far edge. He didn't have long to wait. Jumping out, he grabbed the man by his arm and pulled him behind the vehicle.
"What do you want?"
"Where's the hospital?"
He shook his head. "Who are you? Are you sick? Wait, I saw you! With Noah Kurtz."
"I'm pretty recognizable."
"You shot Herr Adams."
"The leader? You bet I did. Now, where's the hospital?"
Any remaining color drained from the young man's face. "Are you going to shoot me?"
Devon deflated a little. "No. I'm here to rescue a friend."
"The thief?"
"Yeah."
"I will take you."
"What?"
The young man grabbed him by the arm and pulled a straw hat off the seat of the buggy. "Here, put that on and crouch down. Try to stay in the shadow of the hood. Not many Amish look like you."
Devon climbed aboard as the young man grabbed the reins, disengaged the brake and gave the horse a light tap.
"Why are you doing this?" he whispered.
"Quiet, or they will know I am carrying English. We must oppose evil even if we do not resist. And they will surely kill your friend in revenge for what has happened today."
"They will punish you, the Amish. You know that?"
He shrugged as he turned out of the church, then right again down the same lane that Devon and Noah had walked along just an hour or so before. The buggy picked its way through family groups walking quickly along the road, eager to get as far away as possible from the church. "Yes, they will. But the right choice remains the right choice whatever the consequences. I think it was the young girl, the gift from God; I think that was the turning point. Even more than the threat to Anna. The young girl is a true innocent."
"She is." Devon patted the young man on the shoulder. "What's your name?"
He smiled as he diverted the buggy onto a narrow track leading to a two-story house. "I think it is best if you don't know. In case you get caught."
He halted the horse and, to Devon's surprise, jumped down.
"What are you doing?"
"I am going to walk home."
"What about the buggy?"
The man looked at him as if he were utterly stupid.
"Oh. Seriously? How do I work it?"
Again, the flash of white as he smiled. "Don't worry, Max knows his business. Take off the brake and give him a tap. And here, take my jacket."
"I can't let you do this."
"You can and you will. Do not mistake the pacifism of my people for lack of determination. Farewell."
Devon held out his hand. "Thank you. God bless."
"Please, leave Max at the last building on the pike. It is a wreck, but has a red tractor outside. I will come fetch him later."
And he was gone.
Devon pulled the rifle from under the seat and slung it over his back. The house was made of gray wood, and seemed well looked after with doors at the front and another in an extension that faced onto the little track that ran to a barn in the garden.
There was no sign of movement anywhere except for the occasional figure crossing the end of the lane a hundred yards back. Devon ran to the back door, which was up a couple of steps and he could now see the extension occupied the entire rear of the building, at right angles to the main house. He peered through the glass, but could see nothing beyond the white lace, though he could tell that the lights weren't turned on. Deciding the time for caution had long passed, he tried the doorknob.
It was locked, so he cast around for a pebble but instead found half a red brick that lay beside the steps. It took three blows to shatter the glass, and he winced every time but, in the end, he was able to reach in and turn the handle.
The door opened onto a dim hallway and he flitted inside, closing it gently behind him.
"Please, you put down gun."
A young woman stood, waving a knife at him that wobbled as her hand shook.
Devon lowered his weapon. "There's no need to be afraid. I'm not here to hurt anyone.
"You must go. Now!"
"Is Jay here? The one they … they chopped his foot."
Her face creased in disgust. "You come to hurt him?"
"No, I come to rescue him."
&n
bsp; Now she was truly terrified, and he was afraid for her. What would the Sons do when they came back to find their prisoner gone?
He raised the gun again and gestured toward a small door set into the wall. "What's in there?"
She shrank away from him, but he had no time to be gentle. "Tell me!"
"It is Speisekammer. Pantry."
"Open it. Go on!"
She opened the door. There was just enough room.
"Get inside. Tell them I made you do it. Say I had a gun."
Finally, she understood, and she got inside. "He is in main room. Second door. But he is strapped to bed. In bad way."
"How many other nurses are there?"
"Just me. They go to church."
"Thank you."
He closed the door gently and locked it before creeping along the hallway, steps echoing on the stone floor. Bypassing the first door, he found the second one open and peered around it. Sun flooded in through a large window overlooking the garden, and two beds lay so their occupants could see outside. The first bed was empty. The second was not.
A young man lay asleep, blanket drawn up almost to his chin. His left leg was exposed, naked except for the thick bandage wound around his foot which couldn't hide the terrible injury within. Devon scanned the room. No one else here, so he put the rifle down and shook the man's shoulders.
"Jay! Can you hear me?" Good grief, the poor devil was so pale he could be dead already if it weren't for his gently regular breathing. "Jay! Wake up!"
Slowly, fitfully, the young man's eyes opened. Then they shut again, with one final shake, they snapped apart. "Who? Who are you?"
"I'm a friend of Sam's. Sam Hickman."
He shook his head. "No. I was dreaming. I am dreaming. Dead. She's dead."
"No, I've just come from her. She's gotten away, but she asked me to find you."
He shook his head even more forcefully. "Can't. Can't move. They cut … my foot … they cut …"
"I know. But if we don't get away, they're gonna come back and finish the job."
He put his arm under Jay's head and tried to lift him. "Come on."
Jay cried out in pain and Devon dropped him back onto the pillow. Jay's head felt lumpy, and he turned the boy onto his side to take a look. "Good grief, you've been burned. Burned bad!"
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