The Priest

formerly known as Bob (part 27)

All aboard the fun train.

Dolly and Por crept up to an old truck parked just outside the camp. There were twenty men lying around as though someone had just thrown a handful of men on the ground and left them where they landed.

“Is this how they always sleep?” Asked Dolly.

“Yes. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Mostly they just pass out and stay where they fall until they wake up.”
“Do they always sleep at night?”

“Most of the time. Unless they’re going out on a raid.”

“Where do they stay in the daytime?”

“There are all sorts of tunnels, and vaults, and underground rooms that stay cool during the day. It’s kind of rare that you find them asleep outside at night. They’re pretty pleased with themselves and don’t think they have anything to worry about.”

“Well, let’s see if we can change that. Is there one that was particularly brutal and unpleasant?” Said Dolly.

“They’re all that way, but the leader was always the worst. He seemed to think, that to maintain his alpha position, he had to be meaner and more violent than the rest.”

“Would you know him if you saw him?”

She pointed and said, “He’s right there, in the middle. The one with the Viking hat on.”

“A fucking Viking hat?”

“He thought it made him scary.”

“Okay, so here’s your first lesson. You’re just going to kill him.”

“I thought we were going to kill all of them.”

“In any kind of violent, physical interaction with more than one opponent, your best strategy is to identify the top dog and take him, or her, out first. This has a demoralizing effect on the other attackers. Imagine what it’s going to be like for these guys if they wake up and find that someone snuck into their camp and killed their leader. They’ll probably panic, they’ll feel real fear, knowing that they’re not as invulnerable as they thought. It’s not 100% guaranteed, but it may scare them enough that they’ll think twice about chasing us.”

“Do you think that’ll happen?”

“Might, might not. I’m hoping, because I don’t want to worry about them.”

“How do I do it?”

“The best way, in this situation, is to slash his throat. We don’t want him to wake up and start kicking up a fuss. With his throat cut, he won’t be saying much. He’ll make a weird gurgling noise as he tries to breathe. He’ll bleed out in a few minutes. Your job, should you decide to accept it…I’ve wanted to say that, ever since I first saw Mission Impossible…”

Por looked at him like you would look at a dog who just threw up on the carpet.
“What?” Said Dolly.

“That just weird. You’re using the apocalypse as an excuse to say your favorite lines from movies?”

“It’s a hobby. I’m trying to get all my favorites in before I die.”

“Like I said, weird.”

Dolly looked hurt.
“It is not weird. It’s just my jam. Don’t you have a jam?”

“I’ve been a little busy getting kidnapped, beaten, starved, and abused by a bunch of psychos. It didn’t leave a lot of time for recreational pursuits.”

“It’s not weird.” Dolly said quietly.

“It is weird.”

“Is not.”

“Can we get back to the reason we’re here?”

Dolly got excited.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“For me, you shouldn’t have.”

He reached under his dress and pulled out a vicious looking double-edged knife.

“This is a replica of what’s known as a V-42 fighting knife. It was designed to kill people. During World War II there was a Special Forces group known as the Black Devils who were a highly trained group of killers who used it behind enemy lines. I was told that they even had a little sign they would leave on the bodies of their victims that said, “The Worst is Yet To Come.” I liked that story so much that I had a bunch of those signs made up. I still have a few left.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out one of the notes.

“This is for you to put on the leader after he’s dead.”

“You sure you want to give me this?” She asked, holding up the knife.

“I have another one. The one I have I got from my father, who got it from his father, who was a member of the Black Devils.”

“Quite a lineage.” She said.

“It’s the only family heirloom I have left. When we go in there, I want you to walk heel to toe, like this.”

He stepped forward on to his heel and then rolled his foot forward.

“It’s easier to walk quietly that way.”

She tried a few steps.

“Like that?”

“Exactly like that. You ready?”

“I am.”

They began to move forward toward the group on the ground, stepping over the bodies of the sleeping men.

Por moved quietly toward the middle of the men, and Dolly stayed on the periphery to keep watch. She arrived at the man who would soon feel the blade of her knife. She crouched beside him and then leaned over and blew in his ear.

“What are you doing?” asked Dolly in a loud whisper.

Por didn’t look at him and blew again. He opened his eyes.

She smiled at him and said, “Do you remember me?”

He looked shocked. She drew the knife across his throat and said, “That’s for all of us.”

She didn’t move and watched as the blood came rushing out.

Dolly came in quickly and grabbed her arm.

“We’ve got to go.”

She stood slowly and as Dolly pulled her back she stepped on one of the men. He woke up.

“What the fu….”

Dolly kicked him in the face, and he went back to sleep.

“Come on.” He said.

She was remarkably calm as she allowed herself to be led out of the camp. When they got back to where they had hidden, Dolly began to run.

They got a few hundred yards away and she stopped.

“Shit.” She said.

“What are you doing?”

“I forgot to put the sign on him.”

“Would you like to go back?” He said sarcastically.

She looked back toward the camp and said, “Nah, I’ll do it the next time.”

Dolly grabbed her by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. They were deep and dark, and it felt, to him, like he was staring into a black hole.

He smiled.

“You are one of us.”

She smiled back.