“I will be back,” he whispered.
He crawled into the camp hoping to shatter their will by killing more of them in the darkness. He came upon a cultist who was smoking some sort of weed he had concocted, slicing rapidly through his throat. Blood poured across the redneck's Jesus Town tee shirt. The dead man continued sitting and did not move an inch. Aiden rapidly went through the camp. Using his blades, he began slicing every male throat he could find and a few of the females if they seemed angered or alarmed at his presence. He stabbed one of the rednecks in the head as he slept, and the woman he was with whispered to him, "We are kidnapped. Please save me and my kids!" He placed his arm around the woman. She was Donna Schneidholst. He already knew her. She had been one of those who came through his lines. She pointed to her two sons, Sigurd and Johannes. "Wake them, he said. "Do it quietly if you want them out of here alive." She got them to the perimeter. Aiden, covered from arm to arm with blood, showed Donna's sons the indistinct forms where the horses and women were hiding. "Tighten your saddle before you use it but not tight enough to hurt your horse. If I don't get back, or if the racists try to attack, leave and take all the horses with you so they cannot follow you on horseback. Then, wait for me."
Aiden and Donna re-entered the camp. She found her daughter sleeping arm in arm with Wesley. As Aiden sliced Wesley's throat, Donna covered Hilda's mouth, and held her until she realized it was her mother. "We are getting out of here. Your husband is dead," she whispered. Hilda looked at Wesley for the last time. She spit into his face as the two women made it to the perimeter, prepared their horses, and waited for Aiden to return.
Aiden grabbed most of the rednecks' guns and weapons, tossing them into the fires. As they began to explode, he used two pistols to shoot every racist who jumped up from the ground. He tried not to shoot the children and women, but whoever attacked him received a fresh bullet as close to the center of their foreheads as possible and no matter their gender or their age. Carrying most of their remaining rifles and swords, he made it to the horses. Their encampment had been destroyed and their armory looted of weapons. Of the thirty-four racists staying there, he had killed sixteen and freed eight, leaving merely nine alive, some of them women and children. As a dangerous fighting force, Jesus Town had been greatly diminished. As far as everyone riding with Aiden was concerned it was good riddance.
#
In mid-morning, birds were singing. The dogs scampered back and forth amid people and horses, enjoying themselves in playfulness. They had paused next to a stream where they bathed. No one cared who was naked. They were only concerned with personal matters of hygiene. Each of them turned away from the others out of respect. Only Aiden and Marlaina stood together and watched themselves as they lent each other a hand in washing out the blood, ashes, and grime of the night before.
"They took..."
Aiden closed her mouth with his hand.
"I told you to never speak of this, Marlaina. You are simply my beautiful wife once again as you always will be. In my mind, nothing at all happened. It is done with."
Marlaina's tears welled up in her eyes. How had God created a man with such grace? How had she been selected to live her life by his side?
The newly rescued people washed themselves as well as the clothes they had on. As ordered by Aiden, they mounted their horses. He was sitting atop Penn and looking through his binoculars. He could see the camp. Smoke came from it. Evidently, the White Power Racists were burning their dead. Aiden saw that they had no horses at all. He had all them, and he intended to see to it that they never owned another horse in what he hoped would be their short remaining lives.
"What will you do with them?" Donna asked.
"Kill them."
"They are vile people," he said. He didn't really believe much in God. From what he'd seen of Christians, their absolute stupidity seemed to be one of their most obvious traits. It was enough to keep him far away from them for his entire life. He never explained what he meant by vile people. He didn't have to. Both of them already knew.
"What about the others?" Marlaina asked.
"Fine. All safe and well."
"They are safely inside the mountainous haven we made for them?" Marlaina asked.
"Exactly. The few minutes I had there with them before I left and came looking for you, they were happy and alive. I think that's also the way we will find them."
It was a five day trip back to the new settlement. He had personally led them to another place, far away from their eventual sanctuary. He did it, because he knew by his soldier's instinct that the Christians were most likely tracking them. They wanted revenge, and they wanted their horses and their women back. They needed them for breeding if they were going to complete their plan to rejuvenate their blessed white race.
That night, it rained. The horses and people alike were soaked. Aiden brushed down the tethered animals to cleanse them. He hugged each of their muzzles to let them know how much they were loved, and they responded as horses generally do with airy nostril sounds and swaying heads that demonstrated their happiness at how they were being treated. In the morning it had cleared. The doggies alerted them of intruders with soft barks to warn them of approaching trouble. Aiden's keen eyes soon located them. The stragglers from Jesus Town walked straight toward them, but at a very safe distance of two miles. He knew they could get away, but that would just leave them an easy to follow path right down the road to their new home. Once these cultists knew the exact whereabouts of their new settlement, they could come back at any time of their choosing and attack them. They could snipe at them from the steep mountainous ridge tops then disappear. After they got away free and clear, they could sneak upon them again and repeat their deadly sniping attacks, thus making their lives into a living hell. It was best to deal with them here and now. Aiden needed to finish it once and for all time by ending all of their lives. None of them could be allowed to get away.
A mile down the road, the remnants of an old farm stood like the guardians of the dead and dying. Aiden headed directly for them. The buildings were were still solid including the walls which were strong enough to either stop or slow down bullets and render them merely painful but no longer deadly. They sequestered their horses and dogs inside a large farmhouse they found in the back to deprive their racist enemies of any access to them.
"Here's what I want to do," Aiden said. "There's only a few of them left out there. Even though they are pissed as hell, I doubt if there's much fight left in them. They must be exhausted from hiking this way all night long while we slept using the dogs to warn us when they got near. Now, no matter what, I intend to end their entire little show here and now. It is too dangerous to allow any of them to escape from us."
"They'll fight," Donna said. "I know them."
"We will play it as it comes," Aiden said. "There's nine of them at best. Most are most likely women and children. Some of their women and children could fight, but it doesn't matter. We are behind walls in here. They are outside. There are no trees out there to give them cover, so they are going to rush us, and they will be firing. We have more rifles and ammunition than they have, so I'll bet on us winning this fight. They will be firing without aiming, but we won't fire back at them until they are only fifty feet out. That way we can't miss them, and their magazines will be almost spent, and ours will still be full. That should make the final show into an easy quail shoot."
"How many did you kill up there at the camp?" Donna asked.
"Ask me if I give a shit," Aiden told her. "They got everything they deserved. People like that need to be wiped from the face of this planet, Donna."
"I want to help," Sigurd offered. So did Hilda and Johannes.
“I hate those fuckers,” Sigurd said. “They killed my dad.”
The others agreed.
Aiden gave them fully loaded rifles and several fully stuffed magazines. He showed them how to aim and squeeze off at their targets. Soon, they were ready for the battle, as ready as t
hey could possibly be. Everyone on both sides was armed to the teeth, but Aiden's group had all of the advantages.
"Here's how this will go down," Marlaina told the women. "Aiden and I are experienced. We will do the shooting. If we pull you back from the wall, stand aside so we can take a shot. Just back up and give us the position. You have ammunition, and you must use it carefully. Shoot only if they take down Marlaina and me. In that case, shooting them dead will be your last chance. Remember what I say. Take only one shot at a time. If you shoot bursts, you will waste most of your shots. Aim first, then pull. Do it slowly. Pull. Pull. Pull. Easy. Take time reloading. Otherwise, you will waste even more time. Just get it done right. Then go back to shooting them. Point directly at them first. Then pull. That's the best way. Don't let any of them escape."
"What's going to happen, do you think, Aiden?" Hilda asked. She held her rifle close, and after what Wesley had done to her she was ready to use it.
"I'm going to kill all of them," Aiden said. "That's what's going to happen. Every damn one of them."
"The kids?"
"Know this. If I kill them, it means they shot at me. Personally, I think those kids there are going to shoot me if they can. Their mothers, also. They seem like vicious little hoodlums to me."
"That's because they are ruthless," Johannes said. "I plan on taking down two of the women myself. I know just which ones I want."
Donna smirked. She also knew which ones. They were known by everyone as the bitches of Jesus Town. They were loud, hateful, patriotic as hell, and deadly when aroused. She'd aim right at them and hope to hit them between the eyes. Even a painful gut shot would be too good for the two of them.
"Are we going to die?" Sigurd asked.
"Yes. Some of us are going to die, but most of us are going to make it. Besides we are behind hard wood. Those slobs out there are on their own. There's nothing between them and our bullets. In addition, remember this. They are running. So, they can't take aim. All they can do is take slop shots, and slop shots almost always miss their targets, meaning you and me. We, on the other hand, can draw a direct bead on them and take them down. One at a time. I wouldn't trade places with them. Their attack will end them. It will all be over in a few minutes. Let me put it this way. I wouldn't want to be them. They are idiots. That's why they are going to attack. You just can't fix stupid."
"I shoot straight, and I have good reason to take them down," Marlaina said. "Trust me. I'm going to kill one of them each and every time I pull the trigger."
"They are charging," Aiden said from his window. "Everyone in position!"
The racists ran across the street, dodging this way and that. They kept their bodies low to the ground to minimize themselves as targets.
"Hold fire, until I fire!" Aiden said. Then fire only if you have a good shot, but aim well. Make your shots count. Mine will. Remember. One shot at a time and well aimed."
Like ants drawn to fresh honey, the small bank of killers proceeded toward the farm. Aiden's army saw their enemies' rifles twinkle in the dawn's early light, beyond the windows. The Aryans fired their rifles at the house repeatedly, emptying them of most of their bullets. Then, Aiden fired. The head of the closest redneck exploded emitting its deep red velvet liquor. He tumbled to the ground and was gone for good. Now, all of them took aim and fired. In minutes, it was all over.
Aiden and Marlaina, stepped outside. Using their pistols, they shot into the heads of each of the fallen racists to be certain they were dead.
"Clear!”
“Clear!"
They proceeded body by body. Some were just youngsters. They had been proud to die for their people and their savior, Jesus Christ. Only one young boy who was about eight years old survived. He had not been shot. He was crying.
"Strip yourself of all clothing, son, or I'll kill you where you are," Aiden said. "Don't test me, or you are dead, son!"
The boy stripped off his shoes and socks, his pants, and his Jesus Town tee shirt. The kid was scared shitless. The tears rolled down his cheeks. On his chest was a cross and the same huge letters spelling, "White Power!" As he turned, the face of Jesus floated in tattoo blue with the words, "Come to Save my People!" The poor kid had been marked.
Aiden wanted to kill the punk.
"I hate your people!" Aiden screamed. "Do you hear me?"
The boy's legs went out from under him. He fell to his knees.
"I didn't do nothing!" the boy yelled. "Don't hurt me!"
"Fuck you!" Aiden yelled. He put his rifle up against the boy's head. The boy turned and looked him in the eye.
"Please don't."
"Do you deny your race forever?" Aiden asked in a loud voice.
"Yes."
"I can't hear you! Let me hear you, you little racist bigot!"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes. I deny my race forever!"
"Now we are getting somewhere."
"Do you deny Jesus Christ!"
"Yes!"
"Let me hear it!"
"I deny Jesus Christ!"
The boy was in tears and shaking.
Aiden bent down.
"The nightmare is over, son." Aiden picked him up and held him. It was a tight, fatherly hug. He kissed the boy's face. “I love you,” he said. “I won't kill you. I promise.” Tears poured from Aiden's eyes. “I love you. I love you.”
Marlaina came over.
"You scared me," she said. "I was afraid you were going to kill the kid."
"I did, too. I could hardly keep from doing it when I saw those tattoos on him."
Tears continued to pour from Aiden's eyes. He hugged the boy even closer.
"I'm so sorry," he cried.
The people in the house stood and stared with disbelief at what had happened.
Aiden looked at Marlaina.
“Help me, Marlaina,” he cried. “Please help me.”
“Why, what do you mean, Aiden?” she asked him
"I want this boy, Marlaina. I want to raise him up the right way and pull all of that twistedness out of him. Will you agree to adopting him? Please?" Aiden asked her.
“Would you like a new dad and mother?" she asked the boy.
"Yes. I never had much of a family."
She picked him up in her arms.
"He'll make a good son," she told Aiden.
"Just one thing. Your blasphemous tats have to go. All of them," Marlaina said.
“Yes, mam.”
#
Marlaina, Aiden, and their newly adopted son awakened. After several days of getting to know themselves and forming early family bonds, they neared the sanctuary. Their new son's name had been Peter, but they renamed him Cody, hoping that a whole new name would help him to unlearn his old, tainted ways. The boy needed a whole new identity if he was going to restart his life on the right track.
"Come on, son," Marlaina said. "It's a steep climb, so watch your step."
Zombies had been stalking them and their animals all day long and for several days. They had clubbed more than one hundred along the road. Now that the terrain had become steeper, the zombies retreated, falling away down the mountain side, dropping behind, then turning around, unable to operate on such radical hillsides. The zombies simply gave up and fell away, retreating from the Wilson family, faster and faster the higher up they climbed, until finally they were all gone. The three of them looked down at the scene below. All of the friends they had saved that week from the clutches of the Jesus Town racists were slightly below them on the hillside and hauling themselves upward and forward very carefully.
"Be careful, now," Aiden called to them. "We'll wait here for you."
"So, Cody," he said to his new son, "Do you like it up here?"
"It's beautiful, daddy," he said.
"No more zombies," Marlaina told him. "Do you like that?"
"Yes. The zombies are bad," Cody said.
The boy was cute. In five days he had already settled in as a close knit son to
the two of them. He was easy going. They were glad to have him. Others might find a boy from Jesus Town an imposition, but not Aiden and Marlaina. They had enough love and compassion to accept others, especially an innocent kid like Cody. Now and then, Aiden watched the boy and wondered if he would really have killed him at the battle scene. Yes. He certainly could have, but for whatever reason, he pulled back from the edge. Aiden was not certain what stopped him. Cody was the last victim to survive the cult that had been such an issue for so many misguided persons. The saving grace was that he was still young enough to move past it. In mere days, he had shown few signs of his past ways. As the years rolled on, his new parents figured that he had merely been a passive observer of what went on around him. He was one of many desperate believers following cult figures who were making a lot of wrong assumptions and decisions. Cody was just a kid at the time. He didn't do anything. He simply watched. Now, he was observing a different group of people, and it was changing his frame of reference entirely.
The survivors of cult enslavement whom the Wilsonites had freed this week climbed up with Aiden toward the crests which separated their sanctuary from the land of zombies down below. Here, they'd all be safe. Their world would be much like it was before the dead people over ran society and killed out so many good ones who awakened in dead bodies that barely walked and stumbled after fresh living humans as their only food source.
The larger group walked atop the crest. Down below, the zombies continued to fall away. They moved out as soon as they stumbled into flatter more manageable lands where they fared so much better than on the treacherous mountainsides. This was a place they could never reach.
"Take a look, Cody," they said. "What do you think of this?"
Cody saw some children close to his age playing on the lawns under the watchful eyes of a loving community. He wanted to meet them. He hoped they would be nicer than the kids in Jesus Town who were seldom allowed to run off alone and just be kids for fear of an attack by the droolers who had murdered many a family child.
"Is it safe for them to play with me?" he asked his new family.
"Very safe, son," Aiden said. "Come on down. We'll get you introduced. By the way, never show them your chest and back until we fix it."