Free Children Of Fiends - Part 2 A Nation By Another Name: An Of Sudden Origin Novella by C. Chase Harwood

with the clergy that night. So what that they worshiped a deity that amused itself with bedlam, reeking havoc on his progeny? After all, Niles could appreciate such a being. When he hadn’t been rebuilding a whole society, his life had been devoted to the pleasure of killing some of the very souls that he had saved. For a moment, he sort of got it; perhaps a God could exist as written in the Hebrew mythology. If indeed the being had made man in his own image then Niles Plimpton was a perfect example of that. He suddenly felt an oddly warm sensation run from the back of his head along his spine and radiate to the extremes, and he caught himself, for the briefest of moments, allowing for the notion that the Universe could contain more than just cold facts. He chuckled softly at his petty conversion.
    “Something funny, Councilman?” asked Thompson. Plimpton’s vision focused on the major standing over the shoulders of two of the four drone operators. Hanson remained like a statue near the door. Thompson continued, “Are you seeing something I’m not?”
    “Nothing, Major. Ironic thoughts hopping about.” Plimpton stifled his mild spiritual glee as he reconsidered the notion that he was sitting amongst his potential killers. He decided that prudence was indeed the better side of caution and reminded himself to move back into his coach. “As interesting as it is to see the outskirts of yet another abandoned city, I’m finding that, unlike our fine fliers here, my lack of training causes the mind to stray. Since I highly doubt that El Paso is the ultimate destination of our quarry, you will forgive the slight disinterest.” Then he saw the border fence on the monitor and he stood, tapping Beckman on the shoulder. “Zoom in on that.” The display sharpened up on the fence and Beckman had the drone continue videoing along its length. The men marveled at the scope of death. Even Hanson was on tiptoes trying to see the spectacle. Plimpton said, “Now that is a remarkably effective border fence.”  
    As they watched the 1218 come to a stop, Thompson relayed the news to Sandusky and Lake. The engineers brought the train to a halt.  
    Plimpton turned to his footman, “Let’s get a stretch.”
    Thompson said to driver Timbs, “Bring up Bertie and keep an eye out for the councilman.” (Bertie being the nickname for one of the two Sentinels. The Major did this every time that Plimpton chose to go out for a walk.)
    As they stepped off the train Niles heard the trap door on the roof of the command car open and a slight shadow spread across the ground. The Sentinel remained on the roof and took on the posture of casual observance. The action this time raised Niles’ paranoia up another notch. It was utterly unnerving and he wished he hadn’t had even considered the notion that his fellow travelers intended to kill him.
    They were parked in a semi-industrial area and a slight breeze rattled and animated bits of broken roof, metal, and loose doors; noises that brought a false sense of life to what was a very dead place.
    The priests stepped off the train as well and walked out toward the front, the vicar offering a priestly wave. Plimpton watched them for a moment and then steered Hanson toward the tracks behind. “Hanson, rarely I ask for your inner thoughts.”
    Hanson cocked an eyebrow. “I can’t recall when you have, sir.”
    “Indulge me. What does your gut say about our fellow travelers?”
    “In what way are you asking, sir? The question being broad, I mean.”
    Bringing his lips in close to Hanson’s ear, as though he might be overheard, he said, “The Vicar. What do you make of him? Don’t be shy. Between us.”
    Hanson slowed his pace and then finally said, “He strikes me as rather jovial for a man of his position. Kind of a Friar Tuck. I’m told he can be quick to anger.”
    “And the deacons?”
    “Not much, outside of Bible talk. Hoeg is…very Scandinavian. Jones: I don’t trust