It helped that the area around the church wasn't too cluttered. A cemetery stretched nearby dark silhouettes of crosses jutted from the ground among weathered headstones. Farther off stood a few small buildings. The trees were sparse, leaving the view mostly unobstructed.
Anyone who could be there was inside the church. No sudden ambushes.
I raised the rifle and fired a single shot. The crack echoed far across the open ground. I immediately pressed back into the scope and aimed at the church. A shadow flickered in a side window. A few seconds later, a man stepped outside, scanning the area. He was carrying only a revolver.
So they weren't exactly swimming in weapons. In small towns, police armories were usually modest. Even if they'd looted a few stations around the area, it wouldn't amount to much.
I returned to the truck, picked up my uniform jacket, and rubbed the fabric between my fingers, staring off into the distance.
I took out my mask a homemade prototype gas mask I'd put together about a month ago. The base was an armored face mask, drilled out to fit filters. The rest of my head was protected by Kevlar. I pulled on a ballistic vest, then neck protection. Secured the pads on my thighs and shoulders. All of the gear except the mask had been provided by Richard, in case things went straight to a frontal approach.
At least it gave me some chance of surviving a hit.
I slung a small side pouch and carefully packed it with remote-detonated explosives. The transmitter would send a short signal to the detonator and set off the charge. My trump card last resort.
Let's see how good this gear really is.
I drove up to the church, killed the engine, and stepped out. As soon as I got closer, the doors flew open and two figures appeared in the doorway.
"Put your weapon on the ground," they said almost in unison, pistols aimed at me.
"Either I walk in the way I am… or I don't walk in at all," I replied, not taking a single step back.
"There's no need for conflict," a third voice cut in. "Right now, all of us would do well to set emotions aside and speak like civilized people."
A man stepped out from inside. Tall, with a well-groomed beard. He wore clothing resembling a preacher's white shirt, though the suit wasn't black but grayish, decorated with white embroidered patterns. Yellow protective goggles covered his eyes, making his gaze seem feral.
*image*
"Pastor, but" one of the men at the door started.
"No words are needed, my son," the pastor stopped him, calm but firm. "I can see it clearly: if we do not attack, he will not raise his weapon first. He came to speak, not to wage war. So let your souls remain at peace."
"Yes, Pastor…" the second man bowed his head quickly.
My eye twitched. I'd expected raiders not a full-blown cult.
"If you have something to say, say it," I said.
"Let us go inside, and let God be the bridge between us," the pastor suggested.
"No. I'm not crossing that threshold," I replied, harsher than I intended.
"How dare you show such disrespect… heretic," one of the women behind him hissed.
"I understand," the pastor raised a hand, and everyone fell silent at once. "Then let it be so. We will speak here, where we stand. Give us space."
He stepped closer to me. His people backed away.
"I'm pleased to meet you," he said with an almost gentle smile. "I see a strong spirit in you. My name is Joseph Seed."
"Just Victor," I replied.
"Victor… a strong name," Joseph said, tasting it. "I didn't leave that note without reason. I wanted only one thing to make sure we didn't spill each other's blood because of a misunderstanding. I saw you drive up to Mr. Howard's place. I feared he might turn his weapons on you. I sent several people to watch over you, but they found no one and were afraid to go any farther. Just in case, I ordered them to leave you a note if you survived."
"Alright," I said. "So what do you want?"
"I want only one thing: that there be no enmity between us. Our conflict with Mr. Howard began because of a terrible misunderstanding. Several unknown men killed his son. He blamed me and everyone who follows me for that crime. But I had no part in it. Do you truly think I would take such people under my roof, offer them hospitality, and then allow them to murder the host's son? That is a most grievous sin. And God has already punished those who were responsible. But Howard refused to listen to a single word. His mistrust led to open conflict. I tried to guide him toward peace, but his stubbornness blinded him to the truth."
Joseph spoke calmly, yet there was weight beneath his voice, as if he carried a burden he had chosen for himself. He sounded righteous his actions framed as nothing but benevolent.
"Then why didn't you let him go out for food?" I asked.
The moment the question left my mouth, I noticed the tension barely perceptible to anyone else, but obvious to me. His lips thinned. A flash of fury crossed his eyes.
"When words lose their power, I am forced to become firmer," the pastor replied. "He has already killed twelve of our people. The only reason he still lives is God's mercy. I sought a more peaceful solution. Hunger was meant to bring him to his senses to make him understand that it was time to enter into dialogue with us."
"That sounds… very convincing," I said, though something scraped at me from the inside. When everything sounds too smooth, too perfectly justified, it usually means something's being hidden. "And yet why do you need Richard's weapons so badly? Is God not powerful enough to protect you?"
"God always protects us," the pastor said gently. "But He does so through our hands. Without weapons capable of stopping the unholy, we remain vulnerable to many threats."
"So what am I supposed to do? Kill Richard?" I asked.
"No, of course not," Joseph even raised his hands. "But you are an outsider. You can carry our message to him. I am not guilty of his son's death. And God will forgive the killings he has committed if he repents of his sins."
"I understand. I'll pass it on," I said.
If there was one thing I didn't want, it was dealing with cultists. Their faith was a cage. When a man appoints God as justification for every action he takes, trouble always follows. He was neither kind nor righteous.
I began to back away slowly, never taking my eyes off any of them.
**********************
"Are we really letting him go?" one of the followers asked, stepping closer to the pastor.
"Yes. I will give him a chance to atone for his sins. If he does not repent, he will pay for his crime," the pastor said.
"But he killed two of ours," the follower protested.
"I know. But for now, we will keep peace in our souls and remain faithful to God's word," Joseph replied. He watched the vehicle disappear around the bend. "Increase security around the fuel storage."
"You think he'll attack?" someone asked nearby.
"He will try," Joseph said without hesitation. "And then it will become clear that neither he nor the Howard family sought forgiveness. And for those who do not seek forgiveness, only hellish torment remains."
"So we're going to destroy them after all?" the follower asked.
"Everything will be decided today. May God guide them to the right choice," the pastor said.