With nothing more to be said, Sawyer left Sara concealed in the shed and sprinted out of the compound, confident that Rebekah would have done the same. There was only one possible location that stood out in the boy’s mind, and as soon as he approached the small, roofless building behind the theater, he knew that he was on the right track. Sawyer bent down and looked at the fresh footprints in the wet grass surrounding the structure. It was obvious that someone had been there not long before and he whispered under his breath.
“Jackpot. We may have another winner.”
Sawyer held his breath as he crept up and pressed his back against the ivy-covered cinderblock, the shotgun held tightly in his hands. He listened. A few crickets chirped softly in the distance, but there were no other sounds. He moved silently toward the front of the structure. The door was partially open. He peeked inside. There was no one there. He cursed under his breath and pushed through the door.
“Goddamn it. Where the hell could they be?”
He bent down and looked at the ground. It was hard to make out in the moonlight, but the floor was scattered with dusty footprints, and not all from the same boots. Sawyer was about to step back outside when suddenly he heard a low whisper and footsteps approaching the building. With nowhere to go, he quickly crouched in the corner behind a stack of old pallets and held his breath as the door swung open and two unknown men stepped inside.
Sawyer sat motionless, his heart thumping, his finger on the trigger of the Mossberg. In the tight confines of the room, Sawyer knew it would be easy for him to kill the two men with the shotgun, but he remained patient. More than anything, he wanted to know where Rebekah was, and he kept perfectly still as the shorter of the two men spoke first, his voice betraying a faint Southern drawl.
“What are we going to do now? Just sit here? Where is she? She should be here by now.”
His partner, who was at least a foot taller, replied quietly.
“How should I know? We just need to wait here.”
The Short Man was not satisfied.
“Benjamin said that she would be here. I knew we shouldn’t have listened to him. He screwed it all up. She’s going to be pissed.”
The Tall Man seemed cool and collected.
“Just calm down, man. Benjamin is dead, and we’ll just tell her that it was his idea to light the house on fire in the first place. That’s not our fault.”
The Short Man did not sound relieved.
“Sure, whatever you say. But where do you think she is? She should be here by now.”
The Tall Man sighed.
“Like I keep telling you, how should I know? She told us to meet here, and now we’re here. Just keep your voice down, and let’s wait outside. This place gives me the creeps.”
Sawyer remained frozen as the two men stepped back through the doorway and continued their conversation just outside. The boy looked down at the 12-gauge in his hands. The Mossberg had been the difference between life and death on so many occasions that he had lost count, but Sawyer understood that if he wanted any chance at Rebekah, he could not use the weapon now. If these men were going to die, it would have to be done quietly, and Sawyer strapped the shotgun tightly to his back and reached for the top of the wall.
The wall of the roofless structure was ten feet high, but, using the pallets as a boost, Sawyer quietly pulled himself up to the top and slipped his knife from its sheath. Below him, the two men were deep in conversation, and neither took notice as he silently crouched above them, his breath held. He had no idea how he expected to disarm and interrogate two armed men with only his knife, but he noticed a broken piece of cinderblock resting on top of the wall beside him, and he suddenly had an idea. As quietly as he could, he picked up the block, and with one swift motion he heaved the brick into the darkness, the heavy concrete crashing noisily through the brush several dozen yards away.
As soon as they heard the block hitting the brush, the two men spun around and raised their weapons. Sawyer remained motionless atop the wall, but he heard them whispering, and then the Short Man quickly disappeared into the darkness. Just as Sawyer had hoped, one of them had taken the bait, and he edged his way into position directly above the Tall Man. The boy knew that he only had seconds to act, and he did not bother counting down as he swung his legs off the wall and dropped silently through the darkness. The sheer weight of the boy smashed the man to the ground, and Sawyer buried the blade of his knife deep in the soft flesh of the Tall Man’s neck. Once on the ground, the stricken man tried to stand, but Sawyer pulled the knife loose and drove it home one more time, the sickening sound of the metal blade grating on cartilage as he severed the man’s trachea in one violent slash.
The boy knew that he needed to act quickly if he wanted to catch the Short Man off guard, and he left the Tall Man where he fell and headed into the darkness. A light fog was beginning to appear at his feet, and he crept quietly forward, the knife held straight in front of him. The moon was newly shrouded in clouds, and Sawyer could not yet see the Short Man, but the sound of his heavy breathing was not difficult to track, and Sawyer circled around to his left as he silently closed the distance between them. Sawyer was within ten feet when the Short Man suddenly stopped and spun around a full 180 degrees, his pistol swinging erratically in Sawyer’s direction. The man was beginning to panic, and the distinct pitch of terror had crept into his voice.
“Who’s there? Jeb?”
Sawyer quietly slipped the knife back into his belt and swung the shotgun off his shoulder. He crouched down low as he waited for the right moment, a new round of adrenaline seeping into his veins. Again, the Short Man repeated himself.
“Who’s there? Jeb? That you?”
Inexplicably, the man lowered his gun for a split second, and Sawyer saw his chance. Without a sound, the boy materialized out of the darkness and smashed the heavy stock of the shotgun across the Short Man’s face, pieces of teeth splintering in the moonlight as the man collapsed at Sawyer’s feet.
Sawyer threw the Mossberg over his shoulder and pulled his knife free. He dropped down and pressed it against the Short Man’s neck, the edge of the blade biting into the skin just below the man’s Adam’s apple. Sawyer’s voice was chillingly calm.
“You so much as make a noise and I’ll cut your throat. Understand?”
The Short Man nodded, and Sawyer continued.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, and I don’t have time for games. How many are in your group? I want a number. And I want names.”
The Short Man coughed up a piece of broken tooth and answered without hesitation.
“There were five of us. Dawson, Jeb, me, Benjamin, and Rebekah.”
Sawyer pushed the blade harder against his throat.
“What about Edward? Wasn’t he part of this? Wasn’t he with you?”
The Short Man shook his head and spit out another mouthful of blood.
“Edward was always part of this, but he was never one of us. He can rot in hell, for all I care.”
Sawyer could not be sure if the man was telling the truth or exactly what he meant, but there was no time to dig deeper.
“Where are the others now? Where’s Rebekah?”
“I don’t know. We were all supposed to meet behind the theater if anything went wrong. That’s the truth, so help me God.”
Sawyer lifted his head and looked back toward the roofless building for only a split second, but that was all the distraction that the Short Man needed. Without warning, the man swung his arm across his body, the rock he had grabbed off the ground smashing into the side of Sawyer’s head with tremendous force. The Short Man rolled out from under Sawyer and attempted to stand, but his equilibrium was still off, and he stumbled forward, falling to the ground only a few feet away. Sawyer was still conscious, but he was also dazed and bleeding heavily from a large gash above his ear. He staggered to his feet, both his knife and the shotgun lost somewhere in the darkness.
By the time Sawyer looked up, the Short Man was on his feet as well, and he was now wielding a knife of his own. The man spit out a thick batch of blood and snarled at Sawyer through his nearly toothless mouth.
“You better make your peace with the Lord, boy, because you are about to meet him right quick!”
The Short Man lunged toward the boy, but Sawyer dodged to his left and drove his knee into the man’s ribs, the knife missing its mark by mere inches as the two of them fell to the ground. Sawyer desperately fought to get control of the weapon, but the Short Man was quick, and he slashed at Sawyer’s chest and arms, the blade drawing blood in arcing slices. They broke apart and stood facing each other for several seconds, both of them winded and wounded. Sawyer knew that if he wanted any chance at confronting Rebekah, he needed to end this fight as soon as possible. He stepped back and braced himself.
The Short Man came at him again, but this time Sawyer did not try to dodge the strike. Instead, he met the knife at its lowest point, allowing the blade to sink deep into the muscle of his forearm. Sawyer roared in pain, but he kept his momentum moving forward, and he grabbed hold of the Short Man and dragged him to the ground. They struggled among the dead leaves and dirt for only a few seconds before the man realized that the boy would soon have him pinned, and he twisted like an animal and cried out in terror.
“Help me, Jeb! Help me, Rebekah!”
Sawyer did not give him another chance to call for help, and once in position he rose up and dropped a single devastating elbow across the bridge of the Short Man’s nose, an explosion of blood splashing over his face as the skin split and bones broke. The man’s arms fell to his side, but this time Sawyer could not stop himself, and he rained down blows until the Short Man was obviously dead, his head smashed like a pumpkin on the day after Halloween.
The man’s knife was still lodged in the boy’s forearm, and Sawyer pulled it free and shoved it into his belt, ignoring the pain. There was no time to do anything more than pack his wounds with dirt before he recovered the Mossberg and headed back in the direction he had come from, a patchy blanket of fog the Short Man’s only burial shroud.
Sawyer returned to the roofless building and dragged the Tall Man’s body around the corner, kicking a layer of dirt over the dark pool of blood near the doorway. He decided that his best chance to catch Rebekah was to wait for her to return, and with luck on his side, it was only minutes before he heard the faint sound of footsteps quickly approaching. Sawyer held his breath as a slight figure emerged from the darkness and stepped through the doorway. She quickly lit a candle, and she was about to walk back outside the building when Sawyer stepped out of the shadows and leveled the shotgun squarely at her astonished face. Rebekah went instantly white, and for the first time since the boy had known her, she fumbled with her words.
“Sawyer! My goodness! I can’t—I mean, I don’t—I mean, it’s you. You’re alive?”
Sawyer nodded and kept the shotgun trained on her face. Rebekah tried to compose herself before she spoke again.
“Where are the others? Is everyone safe?”
Sawyer said nothing, his finger poised just over the trigger, his eyes narrowed. Rebekah forced a smile.
“Please, Sawyer, for the love of God. It’s me, Rebekah. Put the shotgun down. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but we need to talk and decide what to do. Please, let’s work together. Now is the time for unity.”
Sawyer had heard enough from her, and he shoved the shotgun into her chest, forcing Rebekah to step backward as he advanced.
“Shut up, Rebekah, and listen very closely. How many more men do you have with you? I want a number, and I want names. I need to know who is still out there.”
Rebekah shook her head.
“Sawyer, I don’t understand what you are asking me. What men? I heard the gunshots, and then I ran. That’s all I know.”
Sawyer growled.
“Sorry. Wrong answer, Rebekah.”
Without warning, Sawyer whipped the end of the shotgun violently into her face, the heavy wooden stock splitting her lip as she crashed to the floor. He stepped over and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her out of the doorway. He let go and lifted her chin with the barrel of the Mossberg.
“Get up. We’re going for a walk.”
Rebekah staggered to her feet, and he shoved her forward down the trail, pushing her down to the ground once they were safely concealed within the tree line.
“Last chance, Rebekah. How many men are there with you?”
Rebekah held her hand to her mouth and looked down at her feet as she spoke, tears in her eyes, her voice shaky and weak.
“I don’t know. It was Edward who made us do it. It was his idea from the start. He’s gone mad. You can ask Benjamin when he comes. He’ll tell you that it was all Edward’s doing.”
Sawyer let a dark smile flash across his face.
“Benjamin is dead, Rebekah. Jacob killed him. Blew most of his face clean off. I saw his body with my own eyes, or at least what was left of it.”
Rebekah stopped crying and stared up at Sawyer.
“That is not true. I don’t believe you.”
“Believe whatever you want. But he’s not the only one. Your other men—Jeb, Dawson, and the short one—they’re all dead, too. Now, one last time: is there anyone else here with you?”
Rebekah let her head fall and whimpered.
“You have to ask Edward. He is the one you want, not me.”
Again, the boy offered no warning, and he swung his boot directly into her face, splitting her cheek wide open just below her right eye. The woman was knocked backward by the kick, but even before she was able to sit back up, she raised one hand and pleaded.
“Please, for God’s sake, no more. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Sawyer pointed the shotgun at her face.
“Start talking.”
“There were six of us, including Edward. Jeb, Dawson, Jesse, Benjamin, and I. That’s it, I swear to you. There is no one else.”
“Where is Edward now? Is he coming to meet you here?”
Rebekah shook her head and wiped away the blood that was running down her cheek.
“I don’t know where he is. I told you that it was his plan. I never wanted to be a part of it, but he forced me to. He said he would kill me if I were to try and warn anyone. Please, Sawyer. I beg of you. You must believe me!”
Sawyer was out of patience.
“This is the last time I ask you this question, Rebekah. Where is Edward?”
Rebekah reached out and pulled at the leg of Sawyer’s pants.
“Please, Sawyer, I don’t know! In the Lord’s name, I don’t know where he is!”
Sawyer stared at her for a long moment, and then he put the shotgun over his shoulder and took out the Short Man’s knife. Rebekah’s eyes grew big as she caught sight of the weapon.
“Please, no! I beg of you! It was Edward!”
“I don’t really give a damn whose plan it was anymore. Edward is the last one of you left. If you can’t tell me where he is right now, then you’re worthless to me.”
Rebekah shook her head.
“No, you’re mistaken. I may not know where Edward is, but I am far from worthless to you. I can give you something worth much more than Edward.”
“And what might that be, Rebekah?”
“I can take you to Edward’s gold. It’s no fairy tale like he told you it was. There’s more than you can imagine, and it’s not just the gold. Everything we need to start over is there. Food, water, fuel, generators—even weapons. It’s all in an underground bunker on the base. It can all be ours.”
Sawyer shook his head.
“I already told you that I couldn’t care less about the gold or some fake story about a bunker. It’s all crap.”
There was an uneasy silence before Rebekah finally spoke, her eyes suddenly dry, the fear now gone from her voice.
“You simply do not understand, do you, Sawyer?”
Sawyer grabbed her by the back of the neck and pressed the blade of the knife against her windpipe.
“I understand everything perfectly well, Rebekah. I understand that you’re an evil bitch who murdered Jacob and who deserves to burn in hell.”
Despite the knife at her throat, Rebekah smirked.
“Jacob chose his own path, Sawyer. Those who offer a false witness to God cannot expect to escape his wrath, but that is beside the point.”
“What is your point, Rebekah?”
She looked up into the boy’s green eyes.
“Do you really think it will always be like this, Sawyer? Do you truly believe that the plants and animals will inherit the earth from man, and that you and Sara will go on living a fantasy as the last two lovers on the planet?”
Sawyer was not sure what she was getting at, and he let her go on talking.
“If you do believe that, then you are either exceptionally naïve or less intelligent than I have given you credit for. What you do not seem to understand is that humankind will rise again, Sawyer. There will be a time very soon when the righteous will re-populate this land, and God’s chosen people will once again rule over all living things here on Earth. What you also do not seem to understand is that you and I are among those chosen few, Sawyer, and when God deems the time is right, there will be war between good and evil, and a glorious return to civilization will soon follow.”
Sawyer still did not grasp what she was saying.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Rebekah’s eyes grew brighter.
“Don’t you see? It has everything to do with you. Wars require leadership, Sawyer, and in order to lead, one must first have power. And how does one come to have power? If history has taught us anything, it is that wealth brings power. And as it has been throughout history, gold will soon again become the common currency of man, and those who have gold will have power. Power that you and I can share. Do you understand what I am saying? We both know that you are a natural leader, and so am I. Working together, we can win the upcoming war against the Crows, and you and I can take our rightful place as architects of the new world. We can take our place as God’s chosen leaders of the new era of humankind.”
A smirk flashed across Sawyer’s face.
“Together? As God’s chosen leaders? You’re even crazier than I thought. There is not going to be any war. There is no Cult of the Crow anymore. Besides, you’ve said yourself that only true believers will be among the chosen. If that’s true, then why choose me?”
Rebekah looked up at the boy.
“I can see it in your eyes, Sawyer. Deep down, you do believe, and God always chooses his leaders wisely—even if they do keep the company of sinners, like your dearest, Sara.”
Sawyer dug the tip of the knife into her throat, hard enough to draw blood.
“Don’t you ever speak her name again, do you understand? Sara is ten times the person you will ever be. Never forget that fact. And as for your claim that God will choose who will be the next great leader—you might be too delusional to understand this, Rebekah, but the truth is that leaders are chosen by men, not by gods, and all the gold in the world couldn’t get me to stand beside someone like you.”
Rebekah hung her head, and as the tears began to flow from the corners of her eyes, she spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Everything I did, I did in the name of the Lord, and if you don’t understand that, then there is nothing left to say. I am ready to enter God’s Kingdom. Do what you must, Sawyer, but if even the smallest part of you believes in the one true Lord, please do it quickly. That is all I ask.”
Rebekah closed her eyes, and Sawyer looked down at the woman. Her face was bruised and bloodied, her upper lip and cheek split and swollen. Snot was running from her nose. She looked utterly beaten-down and pathetic. Suddenly, he was reminded of the Bowman’s daughter, and of all of the other lives that he had ended, and he knew right then that he could not kill the woman in cold blood. Instead, he pulled the knife from her throat and shook his head.
“I don’t know what sick game you were trying to play here, Rebekah, but killing people in God’s name doesn’t make it right. And the truth is, who or what I believe is my business, not yours. But just so you know, I do believe in God, and you can thank him that I’ve had my fill of death for one day.”
Sawyer tossed the knife into the darkness and stepped back. He bent down and growled through gritted teeth.
“Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind. If I even get the slightest feeling that you are anywhere near here ever again, I will hunt you down and feed you alive to the crows. Do you understand, Rebekah? Never come back to this Mission ever again. Never come back.”
Rebekah wiped the blood from her quivering chin and stood up, her face a mask of disbelief.
“I understand. I won’t come back, I promise. Thank you for your mercy, Sawyer. Whether you know it or not, God has chosen well.”
Sawyer pulled the shotgun off his shoulder, and by the look on his face Rebekah knew better than to risk saying another word. Instead, she gave Sawyer one last nod before she walked away, her dark form disappearing into the murky fog. As he watched her go, Sawyer could not help but think about his promise to Sara—to leave no one alive—but he understood now that it was a promise that he simply could not keep. He could not bring himself to take Rebekah’s life like he had taken so many others, and he could only hope that the woman would keep her promise to never return.
Yet, even with Rebekah gone and her men dead, Sawyer was still concerned with both the whereabouts and the motives of Edward, and he knew that he had to get back to Sara as fast as he could. He had no idea where Edward was, or what the man was truly capable of, and all he could think about was that Sara might be in danger. He ran as fast he could, and he was only steps away from the main gate when he suddenly felt the presence of someone behind him. Sawyer slowly turned around, yet before he could make out who it was, a single gunshot rang out in the darkness.
The boy cried out as the shot tore straight through his side and exploded against the gate behind him, the white-hot sting of the bullet sending him to his knees. He tried to rise and swing the Mossberg into a firing position, but by the time he looked up, he knew it was too late. Standing over him was Rebekah, a small, smoking pistol in her hand. She whispered.
“You should have listened to me when you had the chance, Sawyer. What I told you about the bunker was true. Same with the Crows. Together, we could have done great things. Now, you are forsaken, and it is up to God to judge you for your sins.”
The boy looked up at her and scowled.
“My father used to say that God doesn’t judge the forsaken; he only pays for their ticket to meet the devil. So, go ahead and pull the trigger, Rebekah, just be sure to look me up when you get to Hell.”
Rebekah shook her head one last time and hissed.
“I was wrong about you. You are nothing but a foolish boy. Goodbye, Sawyer, and may the Lord have no mercy on your soul.”
Rebekah leveled the pistol at his head, and as the boy closed his eyes and pictured Sara one last time, a final shot pierced the night air, and everything went dead-still.