“Don’t be a hero.”
“I’m not a hero kind of guy.” He double-checked the safety and shoved the gun into his pocket. “All right. Wish me luck.”
He hugged Leah and Daniel, had to pry himself loose in the end, painfully offering false reassurances. He rose, looked for the agents, figured he’d slip around them in the dark.
He glanced back to Miriam, who eyed him doubtfully. “Sister, we’ve had our differences, but please, look after my children. And if anything happens to me and my wife, find my father.”
“Nothing is going to happen. The Lord is going to protect you.”
“Still…”
“I won’t leave their side until you get back.”
He turned, steeled himself against his sobbing children.
In a moment he was alone, headed into deeper shadows and toward the sound of gunfire.
Chapter Twenty-eight:
Krantz and his men moved methodically through the east side of the compound.
He found a small boy in one room and in another a frightened young man with his even younger wife, pregnant. Krantz was short two agents, and couldn’t spare anyone to take them back with the others. He left the boy with the young man and his wife, told them to stay put or they’d be shot, then continued. Another family in the next courtyard, this time two women and three children.
No Agent Fayer.
These were the newer parts of the compound, only partially finished. Barrels of wheat, flour, dried beans, and powdered milk crammed some of the rooms. Enough to feed the compound for months.
The storage rooms would be the perfect place to stash a hostage. Every time he found barrels of rice, he expected to find her gagged and bound in a corner and every time he discovered a root cellar, he thought he’d find her dumped among the potatoes and carrots.
But nothing. Not even a hint of anything suspicious. He could sense the team getting jumpy, afraid of an ambush. The longer they took, the bigger the risk.
What was it that Eliza Christianson had said to him after Fear-Not attacked the van at Temple Square?
The key is to think like they do. You don’t get inside their heads, you’ll never figure out what they’re up to.
Krantz spoke into his headset. “Chambers, what’s your status?”
“Took two captives,” he said. “Secured part of the arsenal.”
“The rest?”
“Some men ran off with guns and ammo when we got there. We’ve exchanged gunfire, but taken no more casualties. Delaney is up and moving. He’ll live.”
“What about the cult members?”
“They keep pulling back. Retreating toward the main courtyard.”
“And the hostage?”
“No sign of our girl,” Chambers said. “You?”
“Nothing. We’re at the outer wall. Going to double back now.”
“We’re at the corner of the last square before the main courtyard. I’ve got snipers on the roof. Give me five minutes, ten tops and I’ll have that courtyard surrounded. You want me to go in?”
Krantz thought about his assumptions. Fear-Not wanted to be found. He wanted to provoke a fight with the authorities. But why? A death wish, like a suicide bomber, trying to make a martyr of himself so as to assure his entry into heaven?
But then why not just storm into Temple Square with guns blazing? They could have killed a bunch of non-believers, maybe a few security personnel, then gone down in a glorious hail of gunfire.
Why draw attention here, where they’d put their loved ones at risk?
Something stirred, deep down inside.
“You still there?” Chambers asked.
“Boss?” one of the men in his team said, almost at the same time. “Which way?” The team crouched around him in formation.
“One second, I have an idea.”
Why wasn’t Fayer hidden out here, or better, outside the compound? Because they didn’t expect to lose. They didn’t expect to die, they were going to live. God was going to protect them. It wasn’t going to be Waco, it was going to be Moses and the Ark of the Covenant, and the enemies would fall down before the awesome power of the Lord.
And so his assumptions about where they’d keep Fayer—if they hadn’t killed her already—turned on their head. They wouldn’t try to hide her or keep her location secret. It didn’t matter what the FBI did, the FBI couldn’t defeat God.
And in a strange way, that’s exactly what had happened. At least so far. Krantz’s faulty assumptions had led him in the wrong direction.
“Back the way we came,” he said. Then, into the headset. “We’re coming your way.”
“Got anything?”
“They’ve got our girl close to the action.”
#
Vigilant died a martyr. Shooting from the roof, he killed an FBI agent with his .30-06, took a bullet to the arm, then, wounded, lifted himself over the edge to return fire. Fear-Not was crawling across the roof on his hands and knees when the enemy soldiers in the courtyard below returned a blizzard of gunfire.
Vigilant went down. In the dark, Fear-Not didn’t know how bad it was at first. He crawled toward his fallen companion, who tried to say something. When he reached Vigilant’s side, his hands slipped on the man’s blood and brains. Half his face was missing, a gaping, shattering wound to the forehead. How he’d been making noise, it was hard to say.
Nothing of that now. His soul was on its way to a better place.
Fear-Not turned while his stomach tried to heave its contents onto the roof. He fought it down with effort.
His brother in faith, dead. A man who had followed him without questioning. Fear-Not and Vigilant had received their blessings from the prophet on the same day. They had washed each other’s feet, broken bread together. Fear-Not had taken this man’s daughter as one of his wives, and given over his younger sister in return. And now he was dead.
He wiped his hand on his pants. After a moment, the world regained its focus and he hazarded a quick peak over the edge. Enemies below with pen lights, taking positions in the darkness. He heard someone in the building below, searching for a staircase to the roof. It wasn’t there, but no matter. They’d find the real access soon enough.
“Heavenly Father,” he prayed silently. “Take this fear. Walk beside me. Guide my hand.”
Zeal was with the woman. Her name was Christina Fayer, according to her FBI identification. She’d tried to negotiate her own release, claimed that she was LDS and that she was their friend, just trying to make sure that they got a fair shake with the FBI. Sure she was. And that’s why she took money and orders from the agents of Satan.
But it didn’t matter. He didn’t need her for anything more than to provoke this attack. As of now, in fact, she was nothing but a burden.
Fear-Not rolled Vigilant onto his back and rested both rifles on the man’s chest. He dragged the body back to the edge of the courtyard, to the spouts that would gutter rainwater from the roof into the cisterns. He felt the man twitch under his hands and realized with surprise that Vigilant was still alive, in spite of the horrific extent of his wounds.
It was no longer possible to pull Vigilant; he had to leave him behind. But first, he put his hands on the man’s head. “Brother, it is time,” he whispered. “To pass to the spirit world and rise again on the morning of the First Resurrection. Die now, and aid thine brothers from the other side of the veil, if thou art able. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
He released his hands. Vigilant gave a single shudder that passed from his shoulders through his arms and legs. And then was still.
An electric thrill raced through Fear-Not’s body. How awesome was the power of the priesthood, that he could seal a man unto death.
And it was the priesthood that would end this. What good were bullets and military tactics against that power? The time had come to find the prophet, tell him what great things Fear-Not had set into motion on his behalf. And let the prophet bring about the destruction of the enemy. The b
eginning of the great day of the Lord.
He left Vigilant’s body, scooped up the rifles, and hurried at a crouch to the next courtyard, then the next. Took the stairs down. Moments later, he was at the door where they held the agent. He knocked three times, then spoke: “Howl ye, for the day of the Lord is at hand. It shall come as a destruction from the Almighty.”
The answer came from the other side. “Behold, the day of the Lord cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger, to lay the land desolate. And he shall destroy the sinners thereof out of the land.”
The door opened a crack. Fear-Not slipped inside.
Zeal shut the door behind him and held up a lamp, leaned forward to peer into Fear-Not’s face.
“Do you mind?”
Zeal lowered the lamp. “Sorry.”
Christina Fayer lay at the foot of the bed. Ropes bound her hands, but her ankles were no longer tied. She was not wearing pants and her legs were scratched up, with one knee skinned as if dragged over the stone. The table lay overturned, one of the chairs broken. She met Fear-Not’s gaze with a defiant glare.
He looked back and forth between the half-naked woman and Zeal. The young man’s nose had been bleeding and his clothes were suspiciously rumpled. Fear-Not felt a wave of disgust.
“No, you wouldn’t. Tell me you didn’t violate her.”
Zeal touched his eye. “Well, I was going to. A filthy whore, it’s fitting punishment for someone like that, don’t you think?”
“Those are the tactics of the enemy, not the Lord’s servants.”
Zeal stared at him. “Wake up, we’re at war. We do what it takes to win.”
“No, we don’t. We do what is necessary, and we never take pleasure in it.” He looked at the blood trickling from Zeal’s nose. “But you didn’t? She fought you off, is that what happened?”
“No, I had her, or would have. Except she’s a virgin,” Zeal continued. “Can you believe that?”
“How do you know?”
“Well, I had to check, didn’t I? Just to be sure. Wouldn’t have been right, otherwise. Used my fingers.”
“I told you to guard her. I didn’t tell you to violate her.”
Zeal looked down at the FBI agent, not seeming to hear anything Fear-Not had told him. “I don’t understand it. How could she be a virgin, you know how these people are.” Zeal shook his head. “Unless she’s a lesbian. That’s even worse. I should—”
“Go to hell,” Fayer said between clenched teeth.
“Well, are you?” Zeal demanded. He held the lamp over the woman, reached down with his other hand. “Bet you are, you filthy dike.”
Fear-Not grabbed Zeal and spun him around. “Shut up. We don’t have time for this. Can’t you hear the gunfire?”
“How are things going?” He didn’t look away from the woman.
“Vigilant is dead,” Fear-Not said.
This caught his attention. He looked up. “What? Really?”
“Killed by the enemy.”
“But I thought…you’re sure?”
“His face was gone. Yes I’m sure.”
“You’re next,” Fayer said. “And I hope it’s painful.”
Fear-Not ignored her. “I’m on my way to the prophet. He’ll be with the saints in the main courtyard. Probably forming a prayer circle to call down the wrath of God. It won’t be long now.”
“What about her?” Zeal asked.
“She’s going to die anyway,” he said with some reluctance.
Fear-Not thought about offering her the chance to join them. After all, if she really was a virgin, then maybe she was a good Mormon, misguided, of course, in following the apostate prophet in Salt Lake City, but maybe she just needed to be offered the chance to follow the One Mighty and Strong.
But that last, defiant statement had changed his mind. So what if she agreed? He’d never trust her. The body of saints needed to be pure. If ever that was true before, it was doubly true now.
Zeal nodded. “I’ll take care of her.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Okay. I’m going ahead. Meet me when you’re done.”
“No, please,” the woman said.
“But don’t violate her. And don’t spill her blood.”
A short nod. “I’ll knock her out, then strangle her.”
Fear-Not turned to go. He didn’t want to see it done.
“Don’t go, don’t leave me with him,” the woman said. “You don’t have to do this, don’t you see? I can be valuable. You can use me to negotiate.”
He turned at the door. “We don’t want to negotiate. We want to destroy you.”
Chapter Twenty-nine:
Jacob slipped into the darkened bedroom and groped along the wall for the doorway that would lead him into the courtyard on the other side.
“Please, don’t hurt us.”
“Who is it? Who is there?”
“Just me and my grammie.”
“Sister Devorah? It’s me, Jacob Christianson.”
“Oh, Jacob! I prayed to Heavenly Father that you’d come for us. I knew you wouldn’t leave us.”
“No, of course not,” he said with a guilty twinge. He felt his way along the wall toward the voice. A shaky, dry hand took his. “Is that you, Sister Grace Ellen? How are you feeling?”
“Terrible,” came a second, thinner voice. “But I guess the Lord didn’t take into account an old woman’s aches and pains when planning the end of the world. So it’s true, you’re going to be my granddaughter’s new husband? I was hoping she’d catch the prophet’s eye, but I suppose you’ll do.”
“Grammie!” Devorah said.
“I’ll take you to the others,” he said, “but we’ll have to hurry. Can you manage that?”
“With your strong arms,” Sister Grace Ellen said. “And my girl here to help. I’ll do my best.”
Jacob had no time for this, he had to get out of here, run, find Fernie and Nephi. But he couldn’t just abandon these two.
They found their way into the courtyard on the other side. Sister Grace Ellen stopped and leaned against the wall to her right.
“You okay, Grammie?”
“Yes, just a second,” she said, wheezing. “Is this the end of the world, Brother Jacob?”
Jacob fought his impatience. “I don’t know, let’s try to hurry, can we?”
“I’m tired of sleeping on that hard bed. I miss my house and my nice Serta mattress. I told the Lord I’d do it, if that was His will, but that I was going to grumble and He’d have to deal with it.”
“Shhh,” he said. “Please, move faster.”
“If the Lord comes, he can either take me to the other side of the veil or heal all these aches and pains, it’s up to Him. I just wish He’d hurry up about it. The Lord can be damn slow in fulfilling His promises.”
“Grammie,” Devorah said in a shocked voice.
“Please, just hurry.”
“You’re a good man, Jacob Christianson, to leave your family and come back for us,” the old woman said. “But my, you’re impatient. My old heart can’t keep up. I thought you, of all people, should know better.”
Then maybe you should shut up and stop wasting oxygen talking, he thought, but felt guilty at encouraging such uncharitable thoughts. The woman’s arm trembled and he supported most of her weight. She hadn’t so much been talking as wheezing. With her left ventricle functions struggling, Sister Grace Ellen was literally suffocating.
He collected another family as he passed through the next courtyard. Two sister wives and their five children between them heard him coaxing Devorah’s grandmother and burst out of their room. Children were sobbing, their mothers barely better. They were convinced that the “army” now assaulting the compound was intent on massacre and rape. While he tried to get them settled and moving in the same direction, two young men—fifteen, sixteen, maybe—came out of another room. They looked equally panicked.
“Everyone, calm down,” Jacob said.
“That’s righ
t,” someone said. “Brother Timothy will protect us.”
A light machine gun snarled from the courtyard to their rear and this seemed to clarify their thoughts. He herded them as fast as he could through the courtyard and beyond. A moment later they approached the main plaza.
Sister Miriam had been right; a crowd had gathered there. Armed men lined the roof and trained rifles and hand guns down at Jacob’s small band.
Jacob followed his group in, but two men challenged him, grabbed him roughly by the arms. “Leave him alone,” Devorah said. She grabbed one man’s arm and tried to pull him away. “That’s Brother Jacob.”
“Oh, it’s you,” the man said. It was Brother Enid, the young man who’d been guarding the training fields above the compound. “Thought you’d run off to join the enemy. How do we know you didn’t let them in?”
He spoke this last part in a louder voice and several other people looked their direction. This angle of questioning could go wrong in a hurry.
Jacob pulled free of the two men holding his arms and gave Enid his sternest face. “Remember your place, brother. And get those guns out of my face. Now where is the prophet?”
A tilt of the head. “Over there.”
“Good. No go back to your posts. And keep down. There are FBI snipers on the roof. They’ll have night vision. Go.”
He turned, saw that Devorah was trying to follow him. He put a hand on her arm. “Stay with your grammie. She needs you more than I do.”
Jacob made his way across the courtyard, ostensibly toward the prophet. But he was searching for his wife and baby. It was dark, in spite of a few lamps, and there was a lot of movement. He climbed on a bench to get a better view.
A knot of men and women and children surrounded the prophet. Two men, one of them Brother Clarence, tried to hold back the crowds. Clarence had been in the thick of it; Jacob saw a scratch on the man’s face and blood stained his shirt.
Brother Timothy met his gaze. “Jacob! Over here.”
Jacob gave one last scan of the crowd, but didn’t see Fernie and Nephi. He pushed through. Men with guns parted the way.
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