V2Ch7-Innocence

The camp was alive with the sound of murmurs.

People talking quietly among themselves about the newcomers, and almost as much about who wasn’t there.

So, you really didn’t come back, Sierra thought. The idea was slightly offensive, for some reason, even more than it was frightening to think about the group of people who had been capable of killing him.

James was supposed to protect you and the group all the way to the end, and then you forgive him for killing me, was that it? David’s voice chimed in.

Something like that. She’d never put it to herself in such explicit terms, but in fact that was more or less exactly how she’d imagined it. But Sierra quickly put her brother’s question from her mind. Talking to herself wasn’t going to help matters.

She approached Alan to get some real answers about the situation.

“What have the new people been saying?” she asked.

“They’re shocked they even made it here,” Alan said. “Apparently, James broke them out of their prison and fought the whole cult off by himself to make them an opening.” He shook his head and smiled sadly. “A handful of the stronger cultists recaptured them inside of five minutes. Then James used some sort of big magic attack to attack them, and half the cult tore off after him. That was when the lucky ones made their escape.”

Sierra winced and then smiled. “Yeah. That tracks. So, when do we expect our dear leader back?”

“Our new friends assume he’s dead.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to believe it. I just—I don’t know.”

“I won’t believe it unless I see a body.”

Alan frowned. “Anyway, they didn’t even know who he was or what he looked like, so he at least kept his word about disguising himself. They only knew which way to go because he vaguely pointed them toward us, and one of them has a tracking Skill. They followed his trail here. Nevertheless, we’re all still agreed on moving. Even more set on it, if possible. It’s entirely possible the cult will come after them.”

“I think they have to,” Sierra said.

Alan looked at her. She didn’t elaborate.

He furrowed his brow and fixed her with a stare. She had the sense that she was under the gaze of someone who could out-wait her. Someone who could perhaps wait forever to get the answer he wanted. Alan and Mitzi definitely have a daughter out there somewhere.

She sighed. “If the cult doesn’t come after them, they’re just guaranteeing that they’ll have more trouble luring in new sacrifices. The escaped prisoners will be running around warning people. The remaining population of Orientation could unite against them. It doesn’t matter how strong they are. Even if they killed James, there’s no way they want to fight an army.”

“Do you think the others remaining in Orientation would actually fight them?” Alan asked. “Most of us probably want the same thing: to escape this place alive.”

“It doesn’t matter if they’d actually agree to it or not,” Sierra replied. “The threat is too serious for them to just gamble that we’re all too sensible to come after them. And I’m sure that god they’re sacrificing too wouldn’t be too happy about losing out on sacrifices, even if people wanted to just avoid confronting them.”

“Moloch,” Alan said, his tone hard.

“Yeah, um, Moloch.”

“You may be right. I had hoped we could get away from this place without any more losses.”

Well, hope and seven dollars will get you a drink at Starbucks, she thought.

But she only shook her head.

“Are we leaving now?” she asked.

“As soon as Cliff and his hunting party return,” Alan said. “He thought it would be a good idea to gather some food before the journey.”

Sierra looked off toward the column of smoke. “And everyone’s accepting the new group? No one’s suspicious that they’re enemy agents or something?”

Alan looked surprised at the thought. “No, we all just figured safety in numbers.”

Of course you did, Sierra thought. One thing I could say for James: he wouldn’t have automatically trusted people just showing up at camp.

She didn’t try to hide her slight skepticism.

“When I visited the camp with James, none of these people were outside, participating in it. Not that I saw, anyway. I figured that was because they were in the underground cell James mentioned.” But he sounded much less confident now that she’d pointed out the other possibility.

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably right,” Sierra said. At least hopefully it is.

—

Officer Jeffrey Ross crept around the edge of the camp, taking a less trodden path to the area where the wards had been activated to remain unheard.

He snuck up on the unknown individuals, and he kept sneaking even after he recognized them.

Finally, he spoke.

“How goes it?” Officer Ross asked.

Three figures jumped at the sudden noise. The fourth just smirked and shook his head.

“Why do you do that, Officer?” Fatemeh Roshan asked.

“Probably boredom,” Mustafa Roshan said immediately. He was the only one who hadn’t jumped. “Officer, please remember, just because most of the creatures in this place no longer pose a threat to you, it doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t on edge. Especially wandering the woods without the Prophet’s guidance.”

“Well, you’re home now,” Ross said. “You can afford to let down your guards a bit.” The words came out a bit more callously than he’d intended. He wasn’t sure why he felt so on-edge today.

Maybe it was something he didn’t want to think about, bubbling up from the back of his mind. He’d gotten better at avoiding those thoughts over the last two weeks, but that didn’t mean he avoided the associated bad mood.

“This camp isn’t especially safe anymore either, though, is it?” Leonard Robie asked. He spoke cautiously, in a lowered voice, but the other three members of the search party all looked his way and scowled. “I mean, we got attacked. Probably by your old buddy!” He pointed at Ross.

There it was. What was bothering Ross. James Robard had reminded him of what he already felt: this camp was the complete wrong place for him to be. Every day that he remained, a little more of his sense of self-worth drained away. But Catherine…

He decided to pick on Robie a bit to distract himself.

“First, it’s rude to point,” Ross said. He grabbed the index finger that was pointing at him in one fist. “Second, whoever attacked us is dead. Very dead. He went off the edge of that cliff that overlooks the void! Multiple people saw it happen, and the Prophet confirmed it. Third, he didn’t pose that big of a threat in the first place. He killed a few people and burned a couple of tents. Fourth, the attacker was no friend of mine.” He squeezed Robie’s finger tight and bent backward until the other man winced. Then he released, before the finger could break. “And last, everyone saw you running away when we got attacked. You should be careful what you say, Lenny. The Prophet occasionally decides people are no longer of use to the group, after all. And a cowardly guard isn’t very useful.”

Ross saw Robie swallow hard, and the others also looked nervous at those last pronouncements.

“I assume none of you have good news?” Ross asked.

“We’ll tell the Prophet what we discovered,” Mustafa said brusquely.

Ross walked with the four of them to where Rostov sat, one of his priestesses sitting in his lap.

Old habits die hard, eh? Ross thought. His expression hardened. This man ought to be dead, not enjoying himself. Ross cast his eyes around discreetly. Catherine wasn’t nearby.

“I see we have a report coming,” Rostov said. He gently shifted the priestess from his lap to the grass beside him. “Tell me what we know. I can already see you didn’t recover the prisoners.”

“No, Prophet,” Mustafa said uncomfortably. “We bring only information. The prisoners have reached a place of refuge. Another camp, with dozens of people judging from the number of tents. They seem to be mostly Hispanics. Average level around three to five.”

“Weaker than our camp, then,” Ross interjected.

Rostov looked surprised that he was chiming in, but then nodded. “Yes, weaker by a fair margin. You didn’t feel comfortable simply retaking the prisoners with a sudden attack?”

“Well, n-no,” Mustafa said.

“Given their numbers, it wouldn’t have made sense,” Leonard Robie added defensively. “And Moishe Rose is one of the prisoners who reached them.”

“I see. Then I suppose it really was impossible,” Rostov said. Ross couldn’t read his expression. How much patience Rostov had with any given group assigned a task had not been entirely predictable thus far, but he sounded like he genuinely believed the mission had been too difficult for them.

“What do we do now, sir?” Fatemeh asked.

“Simple. The whole camp will have to mobilize. The fight that was impossible for the four of you will be easy enough for the lot of us.” He turned to the priestess next to him. “Tell the other acolytes that they should prepare to finish their prayers on the road.” She nodded, rose, and walked away. Rostov’s eyes lingered on her for a few long moments as she moved.

“What about the rest of us?” Ross asked.

Rostov’s gaze shot up to him. Then Rostov reached a hand up, silently asking Ross to help him to his feet. The Officer reached down and pulled Rostov up, though he couldn’t restrain a look of annoyance as he did so. He hated the petty power games Rostov played.

Even something as simple as this was not because Rostov needed help getting up. He was neither old nor low level. Getting Ross to help him up was just a way to remind Ross of his place. One of Rostov’s little helpers.

“The rest of you will prepare to move camp, naturally.” He pointed a thumb toward the statue of Moloch, ten feet behind him. “I tasked Rick with constructing a cart to transport that. But we’ll need our strongest pairs of hands to work together to move it onto the cart.”

The statue towered over Ross.

I wish I hadn’t asked, he thought. And yet he knew he would comply.

Ross was standing by the statue, waiting for Rick to join him in moving it, when Catherine approached. He saw she was walking from the outskirts of camp, carrying some firewood. She wore her long, dark hair in a bun, a few loose strands framing her kindly face.

“How are you today, sweetheart?” she asked.

Better if I saw more of you, he thought, smiling despite how unhappy he was with the present situation.

It was strange how the end of the world as they knew it seemed to be pulling them apart. Catherine spent almost all her time among Rostov’s priesthood.

“Just about to get my hands dirty moving this giant statue,” he said, tapping Moloch’s leg with one knuckle. “And then we’re apparently going to go pursue some innocent people we can feed to the fire. But you must already know about those plans.”

She winced, and his face mirrored her expression.

“I know you don’t like that word,” Ross said. “But it’s the truth. You know it is.”

“It’s not that I don’t like the word,” Catherine said. “Innocence is a fine word. But don’t you think we’re innocent? We’re just normal people trying to survive. Against our wishes, we’ve been pulled into a world where monsters exist. They want to eat us. Some of them want to do worse. And there’s a very real god who can protect us.”

“I know,” Ross said. “I know.” They’d had this conversation more than once already.

“Moloch already saved my life once,” she said.

“I know. That’s why we’re still here.” That’s why Rostov is still alive.

She shifted the conversation. “How do you think the kids are doing?”

He resisted the urge to say something snide, like ‘Can’t Rostov tell us?’ But the impulse must have shown through on his face.

“Forget it,” she said. “I have faith that we’ll find out in time. We just have to live through this.” She stepped in close to him, then leaned in so their faces were almost touching. “I need you to do what you have to, so we live through this and see our kids again.” Her tone was serious—and concerned.

Despite her somber tone, Ross felt a little warmth in his face. He could smell her hair. How does it still smell like strawberries after two weeks in the woods? He realized he might be blushing. Catherine still had that effect on him, even after fifteen years.

“I’ll do what I have to,” he managed, slightly flustered. “You know I always do.”

She leaned in to speak directly into his ear.

“I know you hate Nikolai,” she whispered. “Just try to hide it a little more for now. Look forward to the end of Orientation, alright? We won’t need his help forever.” She nibbled his ear slightly as she finished speaking.

Even the sound of the cult leader’s name on her lips couldn’t sour the feelings that rose in him then.

“I understand,” he said breathlessly.

Catherine pulled back from his ear. Their eyes met. Two pairs of pupils, dilated.

Her hand came around to the back of his neck, and she pulled him in for a long kiss.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too.”

“To hell with the innocent!” The words were a gasp. From her expression, almost an involuntary exclamation.

He bit his lower lip. Looked into her eyes. Found that he either could not or would not fight her on this anymore. Gave her the slightest nod.

To hell with innocence, he thought. Nothing else matters. Only us.