Chapter 19 Roman
Roman
Moving carefully, I lift my leg over the seat of the bike and settle my ass on the saddle.
It’s not going to be a fun ride, bouncing over the dirt, but I don’t give a fuck how much pain it causes me.
That fucking son of a bitch has taken our girl, and I will tear him to shreds when I find him.
Physical pain means nothing compared to the spiritual pain I’m experiencing at her loss.
I keep wrestling with myself, wishing I’d done something different.
Had the protective amulet I’d given her not been enough?
If only I hadn’t taken the medication, I’d have noticed her leaving.
On either side of me, Cain and Malachi climb onto their own bikes. We’re all armed and dangerous. Nothing is going to stand in the way of getting Ophelia back. I know the other two are on the same page. We will kill for her, and we’ll do so gladly.
“We’ll find her at the church,” Malachi says, firing his bike to life.
Cain glances over at him. “How can you be sure about that?”
“Because that’s where the Prophet will have taken her. It’ll be sunrise soon. Don’t tell me that he’ll have put a stop to his ascension just because he’s got Ophelia back. Nothing will get in the way of that.”
I grit my teeth. “Apart from us.”
“But what about all the other people in the commune?” Cain says. “Won’t they step in to stop this? If he’s taken her to the church, where the rest of the commune is also supposed to congregate, then they’ll see he has her.”
Mal shakes his head. “They’re his followers. They won’t challenge him. They follow him blindly.”
I turn the key in the ignition, and the bike roars to life. “Let’s check the church first. Then if she’s not there, we’ll overturn every single inch of that damned place.”
“Wait!” a voice shouts from behind us.
It’s Felix. He still looks pale, but he’s standing, albeit shakily.
“Take me, too, on the back of one of the bikes.”
I stare at him. “You can’t come. You’ve been poisoned. You’ll be more hindrance than use.”
“I don’t think I inhaled as much as the others,” he argues. “You can’t go alone. You’ll get yourselves killed.”
Cain’s smirk is nasty. “And then my father will kill you, no? You’re not coming because you care. You’re coming to save your own ass.”
“Does it matter why I’m coming?” He cocks his head to regard us. “The more, the better.”
Cain shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”
He laughs. “You can trust that I won’t let those fuckers harm you or your friends.”
“Or the girl.” Deacon joins Felix, and he looks a lot better than he did ten minutes ago. “I’ve dunked my head in cold water and poured half a liter of an energy drink down my throat. I’m thinking clearly and walking in a straight line. Let me help.”
I’m wondering what my other Preachers are thinking.
These men weren’t much use when it came to keeping either Ophelia or even themselves safe before.
I suppose that was a surprise attack, and they were gassed, which is an entirely different scenario than fighting.
Will they be a liability if we take them with us, or will we be better off having larger numbers?
Ultimately, this is Cain’s decision. They’re his men.
“Fine,” Cain relents.
“Deacon, you ride on the back of Rome’s bike. Felix, you can be with me.” He glances at the other men who are still recovering. “The rest of you. Get the tents packed away and ready to leave ASAP. We might need to get out of here in a hurry.”
I wonder if Deacon would be better off on Malachi’s bike, but I don’t want to call any further attention to my injuries.
I’m worried the others might insist I stay with the RV, and there is no fucking way that is happening.
My ribs and face might be painful, but there’s nothing wrong with my trigger finger and we will have our guns.
Besides, maybe it’s the adrenaline, but I’m sure I’m not in as much pain this morning.
I’m starting to heal, but with this fight ahead of us, I don’t know how much longer I’ll stay that way.
I don’t say anything as Deacon climbs on the back. The bikes aren’t big, and he’s a little too close for comfort, but I can’t let that bother me. The clock is ticking, and I swear I can see a slight glimmer of light in the sky between the trees.
“Let’s get as close as possible to the church without being noticed,” Malachi says. “Try to see how many people we’re dealing with.”
Cain gives a curt nod. “Daisy said the Prophet has five men around him. They might be armed. Everyone else is likely to just be cult members.”
“Are they likely to fight back?” I turn a little to look at him.
He shrugs. “Honestly, I have no fucking idea.”
We get on the move and head in the same direction as last night, taking us to the farmland on the outskirts of the commune.
I grit my teeth the entire way, doing my best not to grunt every time the bike bumps over the ground and jolts my ribs.
I keep my mind focused on Ophelia and the horrors she must be going through.
Will that fucker have touched her? He calls himself a Prophet, but that doesn’t mean he has a single moral in his black soul.
He makes a mockery of religion and his god, and that only makes me hate him that much more.
We stop far enough away from the commune that the bike engines won’t be noticed.
From the farmland, we can see the church.
It’s not large, though it is the biggest building around, not including the barns.
Daisy and Ophelia had talked about this place as a town, but it’s barely even a village.
It’s just a collection of single-story wooden homes along a couple of dirt roads.
There’s nothing signaling the name of the place.
No wonder it was so hard to find. If we hadn’t had Daisy’s help, we’d never have located it.
I think of the irony of that. She helped us find the place, only to double cross us, but if she’d never helped us, we’d also never have had the chance to kill the Prophet.
We wait on the backs of our bikes, observing the scene before us.
People are entering the church. Families with children, husbands and wives, elders, too.
One striking thing is that they’re all dressed the same way.
The women and girls wear long maroon dresses, and the men are in shirts and pants of the same color.
How many are there? Fifty? Even more? Surely someone in the group—if they see Ophelia is back, and know that she doesn’t want to be there—will step in and say something?
But then I laugh at myself for being so na?ve.
Those parents with their children at their sides are walking into a church to kill their own offspring, all because they genuinely believe they are about to sit with God.
If I wasn’t so fucking angry, it would break my heart.
Their job should be to protect those kids, but instead they’re giving their lives into the hands of a scumbag like the Prophet.
“Looks to mostly be women and children,” Cain says.
Malachi slowly shakes his head. “So we can’t go in there shooting. If we do, we’re likely to risk killing innocents.”
Cain scowls. “Are the adults innocent if they’re willing to watch Ophelia die and do nothing?”
His words hang heavy between us. Is she still alive? What if the Prophet has already killed her? I dare not voice my fears out loud, knowing what reaction they’ll get.
“We need to get the followers out of the church, but how?”
Deacon speaks up. “A distraction.” He jerks his chin toward one of the barns. “What if we set fire to one of their food stores. That’s bound to bring them running. Even if they don’t care about the food, they won’t want the flames to burn them before they can do their ceremony.”
Cain considers this for a moment. “You’re going to need some kind of accelerant. We’re running out of time.”
“There’s bound to be something in the barn—gasoline, kerosene, or diesel fuel, or maybe even turpentine. There’s always something.”
“The fire might spread,” Mal says. “We won’t be able to control it.”
Cain sets his jaw. “We’ll burn the whole fucking commune to the ground, if that’s what it takes.”
There are innocent people in the commune, and none of us wants to see innocent people hurt, but if we must sacrifice every single one of them for Ophelia to be okay, then that’s what will happen. We’d save the kids and Ophelia, and everyone else can fucking burn for all I care.
Cain turns to the men and jerks his chin at Deacon. “Do it.”
Deacon is already off the bike before I can blink and is running over the fields toward the closest barn.
“We need to get around the back of the church,” Cain says.
“There must be a rear entrance. Be prepared to shoot on sight, and whatever the fuck you do, don’t shoot Ophelia or any of the children.
Every damn adult is fair game because the moment someone gets their eyes on us, this whole thing is going to blow up. ”
We leave the bikes where they are and move on foot, racing over the field, our weapons in hand.
Despite the pain in my ribs, and how every footstep sends lightning bolts through my jaw, I adopt the same stance at the others, running at a low crouch.
There is every possibility that the Prophet is expecting us and has his own men positioned to watch out.
They will also most likely be armed. The moment the shooting starts, the Prophet will know we’re here.
Hopefully, so will Ophelia.
I swear to God, if he’s put a single finger on her, I’ll cut him from his throat to his balls and tear out his insides and feed them to him.
My determination and that image makes me feel better. I hardly feel my injuries at all.
With the majority of the cult inside the church, it at least allows us to move unseen. We reach the back of the building, using trees and bushes as cover. Sure enough, there is a small rear door, but there’s also someone standing outside of it, guarding the place.
One man. He’ll be easy enough to deal with. It seems the Prophet didn’t expect us, which is strange. He must be a stupid man as well as an evil one.
But the rest of the commune is still inside the church.
If we go crashing in there now, innocent people will die.