Cruel World(87)

“Hey now, that hurts. I’m an opportunist, always have been. I got pissed on when I was younger, and I vowed never to let that happen again. But lately there’s been some dissent. This plague comes along and wipes out humanity, and you’d think it would be a minister’s dream, right? All these people looking to me for guidance and words of wisdom. Instead they’re frantic for an answer. Why did this happen? And doesn’t God love us?” Archer waved his hand through the air in disgust. “Bunch of f*cking whiners.”

Quinn tried to slide his legs to one side beneath the strap, but there was no room to maneuver. And each time he moved, a bomb of pain would go off inside his skull. The room tilted and then leveled.

“Shit happens, that’s the absolute truth, one you can live by. And I’d quit trying to get out of bed; you’re going to make yourself pass out again. I’m guessing you’ve got a concussion, or two of them.”

“So I’m your answer,” Quinn said, closing his eyes as nausea surged inside him. “I’m your scapegoat.”

“Damn, Quinn, you’re a smart guy. I like you. I’d almost like to keep you around just to chat with. This has been really liberating for me since there’s zero people that I can speak freely with.” Archer rose from his seat and returned to the stove, banking it with another chunk of wood. “I know you didn’t cause the plague, Quinn. I’m guessing you just have some genetic disease that made you so ugly. But my congregation’s been looking for an answer, and if they don’t get it soon, I’ll be the one they blame. When I saw you, I planted the seed in their minds that you’re responsible somehow. And Helena, the woman who was questioning you, already told everyone you confessed to being a demon and promised their demise. Your fate was sealed even before we started talking. You see, we can kill the thin bastards all day long on the bridge and it won’t give the congregation what they want.”

“What are you going to do with me?” Quinn asked, trying to raise his head.

Archer prodded at the fire with a steel poker, his eyes focused on the flames.

“We’re going to burn you tonight, Quinn. That’s the answer they’re looking for.”

Without another word or glance back, Archer left the room, locking the door behind him.

~

The sun crossed the window of the room in a silent arc of time. Quinn watched it glide past when he wasn’t struggling against his restraints. Dizziness came and went, but the pain in his head was constant.

After hours alone, a woman entered the room carrying a glass of water. She was close to his age with dark red hair that hung down past her shoulders. As she approached the bed, her hand shook and some of the water slopped over the rim, spilling on the bed. Before he could say anything, she tipped the glass toward his mouth, pouring much too fast for him to drink. He choked and sputtered, turning his head away as the sheets beneath him became soaked. When the glass was empty, the woman hurried from the room, slamming the door behind her.

The room darkened further as the sun dropped below the horizon. Even though his nerves felt as though they were full of electricity, Quinn drifted off to sleep beneath the exhaustion of struggling to get free. When he awoke, the window next to the bed was a square of darkness, and the only light in the room came from the guttering fire. A sound rose moments later as he was trying to loosen the strap across his waist. It took him nearly a full minute to realize what it was.

People were singing outside the house.

The door to the room swung open, and Archer, along with half a dozen men, entered the room.

“We know that we are from God and the power of the whole world lies in the power of the evil one,” Archer said in his booming voice. “Be not afraid, brothers; the demon cannot harm you while in my presence. He may speak in lies, so do not listen, for then you shall be at the mercy of the burning evil that we fight day in and out.”

The men surrounded the bed and unstrapped the bindings across his body. As soon as they were loose, Quinn lunged sideways, bashing his fist into the nose of a scrawny man wearing a long beard. Blood poured from the man’s nose, but he merely wiped it away and helped the others grasp Quinn’s arms and legs.

“Stop! I didn’t do anything! I was just trying to cross the bridge,” Quinn said as the men stood him on his feet and held him fast by the arms.

“You were coming to destroy the last haven of the world, demon; do not lie,” Archer said, and drew the sign of the cross in the air before Quinn’s face. “Come, brothers, let us proceed before it can call its brethren.”