The man stepped into an opening between the barrels and strode past the prisoners to stand at Carver’s feet. Cash bumped his right fist on his left shoulder in a sign of solidarity, and he returned the gesture.
“Is the camp straight?” Carver asked.
Cash nodded. “Aside from that Moe guy getting away with our doctors last night, and us losing seven people, yeah.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “Where did he take the doctors?”
“Probably to the caves with the rest of the townsfolk,” Cash said. “Want me to go after them?”
Carver shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’ll try an unconventional approach.” He glanced back. “Gas, you there?”
A skinny man with greasy-slick hair stepped forward from where he’d been standing behind him. His name was Steve “Gas” Gasman. Gas served as the commune’s high priest, carrying out symbolic rituals Carver didn’t have the time to perform. Gas was also a serviceable mechanic, especially on late-model cars.
“Yeah,” Gas said, his face drawn.
“Take Cash and some warriors and perform the death rights on all the bonfires,” Carver said. “Stir the people’s hearts. Make it look groovy.”
“Will do,” Gas said, and he disappeared to grab his robes.
“One last chore.” He nodded to Cash. “Bring the big dog up.”
Cash turned and released Colonel Humphreys from where they’d tied him to another man. He jerked the colonel to his feet and shoved him forward.
Hands still bound behind him, Humphreys shot Carver an angry look as he ascended the stairs to stand next to the leader of Light and Venom.
He smiled at the colonel before holding his right hand out to Susan, and she obliged him by placing a microphone in his hand. Holding the microphone up, he passed his free hand over the top, causing a swell of feedback through the camp speakers affixed to the top of the light poles.
With a wide smile, he lifted his face to the camp and spoke into the grated microphone cap.
“Attention everyone,” he said. “In case you don’t know already, my name is Zane Carver, and I lead the community of Light and Venom.”
He waited as the bustle of camp settled, and faces turned in his direction.
“You might be wondering what happened two nights ago, and why the camp is no longer under military control.” Carver’s smile grew wistful. “You’re afraid and worried for tomorrow, but there’s nothing to fear. I have liberated you, and I will continue to lift you up until you have reached a new level of spiritual existence.”
He continued, explaining the rules of camp and how he expected everyone to behave. He left the punishments implied and focused more on uplifting them as the people of the future. By the end of his speech, the crowd regarded him with reverence and awe. Most bought into it, and those who doubted him would come around. It was only the beginning.
“But even as there are glorious days ahead, there are cancers we must purge.” Carver gestured to Colonel Humphreys, who fumed in silence. “Today is the last day of the United States Military here. We will have a new name, and we’ll wash away the remnants of the past.
Humphreys grunted through the gag and lunged forward, but Cash held the soldier’s bound hands tight and gripped the back of his shirt.
“This is Susan.” He gestured to the woman. “She is my right hand, and my fang.”
Susan switched positions with Carver, stepping up to Humphreys with her frigid blue stare. Despite Susan’s exceptional height, Humphreys still looked down on her. He grinned behind his gag, though his eyes held a hint of fear.
A slow smile spread on Susan’s lips, then she threw up her right fist for all to see. She wore a set of silver-colored brass knuckles. Welded spikes extended two-and-a-half inches from both ends, hooked inward and sharpened to resemble fangs.
“Susan, the Fang!” Carver shouted into the microphone, and a few in the crowd clapped. He raised his voice in a frenzy of words. “She will root out those who would taint our camp and strike with a Diamondback’s fury.”
Humphreys stared at the wicked brass knuckles with a sinking expression.
Carver lowered the microphone and addressed the colonel. “I appreciate you telling me about Moe Tsosie. He sounds like another cancer that needs to be removed.” A sorry expression passed over his face as Humphreys struggled in Cash’s grip. “I feel like we might have been friends, Colonel. Or that you could have contributed to our future. But after some thought, I realize we can never coexist.”
Humphreys surged forward to get at Carver. He nearly broke out of Cash’s grip, but the enforcer jerked him upright again.
“I’d ask if you have any last words,” Carver said, “but I don’t think you’d have anything good to say. And I wouldn’t blame you.”
He glanced at Susan, and her hardened knuckles flew forward and struck the colonel in the throat. The two fangs stabbed into his windpipe and nearly sliced his jugular vein.
At first, Humphreys jerked back with an angry cry, then he noticed the blood leaking down into his combat fatigues. His face twisted in fury, and he wrenched so hard Cash lost his grip. He charged at Susan like he wanted to ram her, but her second punch stopped him cold.
The soldier raised up as a jet of blood shot out of his neck and sprayed across Susan’s chest. Carver blinked as warm spatters hit his cheek. Cash grabbed the colonel, and Susan punched him repeatedly. The two-inch fangs bit into the colonel’s throat and chest, draining his life with each kiss.
It took a long time for the colonel to die, but he finally slumped to the steel grating with a gurgling sigh. Susan stepped back, sucking air. Blood splattered her face and covered her knuckles, and her eyes flashed with lust.
Carver watched Humphreys take his last breath, then he stepped to the rail and stared down at the terrified officers. They wore expressions of horror, no doubt wondering if they would be “fanged” next.
Arms raised to the gaping crowd, Carver grinned at the rising applause. The cheers and shouts of adoration took his breath away, and his eyes watered at the prospects of a glorious future.
Things were off to a promising start.
SPORE Book 4
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Spore Series | Book 3 | Fight Page 24
