The man spoke again. "Then the Limiters would've slipped the dogs off their reins, and they'd have followed close behind. You'd be dead 'uns, like those poor wretches down there." He drew breath somberly. "You should watch this."
In spite of the threat from the knives at their throats, both Will and Chester made a concerted effort to focus on what was happening below.
The main Styx swung around and barked a command. Three men in clothes of neutral color were each escorted into the center of the crater by a pair of Styx. Will and Chester hadn't spotted them before because they had been huddled in the shadows beyond the scope of the floodlights. They were pushed beside the group of Coprolites, and their escorts returned to the Styx line.
The head Styx barked another order and held his right hand high as a number of his men stepped forward and put their rifles to their shoulders. Then, with a staccato shout, the Styx dropped his hand, and flashes exploded from the barrels of the firing squad. Two of the three figures fell immediately. The remaining one tottered for a moment before he, too, went over, collapsing across the other downed men. As the last echoes of the shots reverberated around the crater and an eerie silence filled the place, none of the three moved. It had all happened so quickly.
"No," Will said, not believing his eyes. "The Styx… they didn't?"
"Yes, you have just witnessed an execution," came the man's inexpressive voice from close behind his head. "And those were our people, our friends."
With another order, the firing squad passed their rifles to their nearest comrades. Then they each drew some glinting weapon from their sides and took several paces forward. There was a horrible inevitability to it as the advancing Styx each strode up to a Coprolite in the opposing line.
The boys watched as the Styx soldiers lunged at the Coprolites, who simply dropped to the ground like felled trees before them.
The other Coprolites stood in their higgledy-piggledy line, facing in all directions. They made no move to help their fallen brothers and, what was even more astounding, they didn’t seem to react to their deaths at all. It was as if, right in the middle of a herd, cattle had been killed, and the rest of them had just accepted it like dumb animals might.
The gruff voice spoke again. "Enough of this. You can feel our knives. We will use them if you don't do exactly as you are told. Is that understood?"
Both boys mumbled a "yes," feeling the blades press harder into their skin.
"Put your arms behind your backs," the quieter voice ordered.
The boys' wrists were bound tightly, then their heads were lifted roughly by their hair and blindfolds tied around them.
As hands grabbed their ankles, they were mercilessly dragged on their fronts, back down the steep slope behind them. Not able to resist, they tried to arch their heads and keep their faces away from the ground racing beneath them.
Then, with equal roughness, they were manhandled up onto their feet, and both felt something being attached to the bindings around their wrists. They were yanked on by these, each boy hearing the stumbling steps of the other, and led at breakneck speed down the remainder of the slope, leaning back lest they fall. Will guessed that they'd been tethered together, like two beasts off to the slaughterhouse.
At the bottom of the slope, Chester lost his footing and rumbled over, pulling Will with him.
"Get up, you slop bags!" the man hissed. "Or we'll finish both of you, here and now."
Using each other for support, the boys heaved themselves to their feet again.
"Move," the other one snarled, striking Will so hard on his wounded shoulder that he let loose a wail of pain. He heard his captor take a step back in surprise.
Will's hurt and fear, coming on top of the intense feelings of loss for Cal, suddenly made something flip in his head. He stood his ground and spoke in a low, threatening voice.
"Do that again, and I'll…"
"What?" the voice said. It was gentler than it had been before, and Will noticed for the first time that it had a youthful and feminine edge to it. "What will you do?" it asked again.
"You're a girl, aren't you?" Will said, rather incredulously. Without waiting for a response, he clenched his bound hands together and squared up to her — which was difficult considering he had no idea where she was actually standing.
"I'll call in our backup," he said fiercely, remembering the line from one of his mother's favorite television series.
"Backup? What's that?" she asked hesitantly.
"A handpicked team of men are monitoring your every move," he added, with as much conviction as he could muster. "All I have to do is give the signal. You'll be taken out."
"He's bluffing," came the man's voice. It, too, had lost some of its sternness, and there was even a hint of amusement in it. "They're alone. We didn't see anyone with them, did we, Elliott?" He spoke directly to Will. "If you don't cooperate, I'll run your friend through with my knife."
This had the desired effect on Will, bringing him quickly back to earth.
"All right, all right, I'll come quietly, but you'd better watch it. Don't mess with us, or…" Will trailed off. He figured he'd pushed his luck as far as he could and began to move forward again, bumping into Chester, who had been listening to his friend with total bewilderment.
21
"And it is written in the Book of Catastrophes that the people shall return to their rightful place from the Ark of the Earth, at such time that the unholy deluge has withdrawn. And the people will once again plow the unplowed fields, rebuild the leveled cities, and fill the wasted lands with their pure seed. So it is said, and so shall it be," the Styx preacher boomed.
In the confines of the small stone room in the Garrison building, he towered above her kneeling form, his clawlike hands raking the air around him, his burning eyes and his black cloak making him look like some terrible visitation.
His cape flapped open from his thin body as he stepped closer to Sarah, his right hand spearing to the ceiling and his left pointing downward to the floor. "As it is in the firmaments, so it is in the earth below," he crackled in his thin voice. "Amen."
"Amen," she echoed.
"God be with you in all that you do in the name of the Colony." He suddenly thrust his hands at her, grabbing her head and pressing his two thumbs into the ghost-white skin of her forehead, so hard that when he finally released her and stepped back, red marks were visible on it.
He gathered his cloak about himself and swept out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
Her head bent, Sarah remained kneeling until she heard a stifled cough from the corridor. Looking up, she saw Joseph, a plate of food cradled in his giant hands.
"A blessing, huh?"
Sarah nodded.
"I don't mean to intrude, but my mother made these for you. Some cakes."
"You'd better bring them in quickly — I don't think Doctor Doom would approve," she said.
"No," Joseph agreed, and entered hastily, shutting the door behind him. Then he hovered uneasily, as if he'd forgotten why he'd come there.
"Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" Sarah offered as she moved across the floor to the bed mat.
Sitting by her side, he lifted a layer of muslin from the plate to reveal the cakes, their icing an insipid butterscotch color over the gray fungal fibers used for baking in the Colony. He passed the plate to Sarah.
"Ah, fancies." She smiled to herself, recognizing how similar they were to the shapeless but nonetheless delicious cakes her mother would bake for Sunday teatimes. Sarah helped herself to one, nibbling at it without much interest.