The Hunted -- Part 27
by Martin H Slusser

"I love you, Daddy." Terry Marie kissed Ron's unshaven cheek and patted the tears from her eyes. She hugged her mother, whispered something in Millie's ear that made the woman smile, then moved into Benny's arms. She trembled for a moment. Boone growled under his breath.

Terry Marie hushed Benny. She turned in his arms and smiled at her parents. "I promise, come spring I'll be with you for an extended stay." Her gaze became hopeful. It played over Benny's face, hungry and wistful. "Maybe to set up house-keeping?"

Benny scowled. Terry Marie laughed and rolled her eyes.

Her car puttered out of the drive, she waved back at them and then was gone.

Hands stuffed into his back pockets, Benny stared down the drive for several minutes.

Man, be real cool, shacked up with Sweet-Bottom. Maybe buy a place. Millie said the farm next to theirs was up for sale. The owners were old and wanted to see the land kept a farm. They'd sell cheap to a young couple wanting to farm, to raise a family. Benny glared at the driveway.

Kids. To be a dad, a father to kids he had sired, not just a sperm-donor. The breath choked off in his throat and for one horrified moment Benny was afraid he was going to cry.

Closing in, Grey-Wolf Rider. Crazy-Gracy and the Project are closing in.

A sob escaped his throat. Benny glanced around, but he was alone. The others had gone in to warm up. A noise, a snuffle like that of an enraged bear, whispered to Benny. He spun. And there was Boone, towering over him, glowering down, teeth bared, hands clenched into fist the size of battering rams. Bull the football he-ro. Star fullback on Moyock's high school team, star of the Academe's team. A mountain of meat, waiting for the right buzzard to feed on his over-sized carcass.

Imperceptibly, Benny shifted, knees bent, hands flexed and steady.

No Terry Marie to stop it this time. No Millie to come charging in. Only two men about to square off. Only one man would rise the victor.

From the porch, Ron saw them. They were as different as night and day, but where it counted they were like twins. Completely identical. Stubborn, hard headed, no give. But they were easy going, too, and patient, and good hearted. Ron chuckled. Bull would win, he knew that, but would either survive the match?

"Hey, Bull? Son, you boys coming in?"

He stood, unmoving in the watery half light of a cloudy day.

Boone stirred. He glared down at Benny and moved away first. Benny tensed, waiting for an attack.

A taxi roared up the drive, startling them both. It plowed to a halt in a shower of oyster shell pieces. Four men piled out, shouting questions at Benny.

Benny spun on his heels and stalked away. Teeth bared in a grimace of hate, his face and eye dark on the men and at John who came out to greet them. They recoiled from Benny and were silent for a moment.

Millie glared at John, her features showing every bit of her disappointment. He had the grace to flush and turn from her.

"I made one call, Mom Donnelly. Only one, I swear it, to my paper. One man was to come, Bill Derricks, a Cheyenne . . . ." Millie stalked away and John's voice trailed off. Eyes filled with sad reproach, Ellen was on the porch.

Millie shouldered her way back out of the house. The reporters froze at the sight of a shotgun in her hands.

"I do not recall inviting any of you on my property," she said, her voice as cold as the new fallen snow. "I suggest you-all leave, or my husband will arrest all of you for unlawful trespassing, hear?"

The reporters laughed.

In the trees, the ravens watched all and hissed. One of them flew down, a streak of black fire, to snatch a few hairs from the head of a reporter. The raven called in triumph at the woman's shriek and flapped back to show off her trophy.

Cindy eased back in her chair and stroked its silver and ebony wood finish. The delicate fibers of angora wool cushions offered her the luxury of a rest she had not been able to afford herself since the day he escaped them down in Jacksonville.

She listened to the conversation being taped by her woman in Moyock. So, Benny was practically a part of the family? Too dammed bad for them. In a few days they would be missing a member of their family, Benny himself.

"Manny? I wondered if that slut of a daughter of theirs is knocked up?"

The woman grinned and Cindy flushed.

In her cold, clinical way Cindy recognized her emotions for what they were. She was jealous of the Amazon Benny had probably been sleeping with. Mike Donnelly's sister. Was Mike trustworthy? No matter. Soon enough, she would have him to herself. A collar of links of jet embossed with emeralds. A chain of gold dangling from it, so he would know who was in charge. Benny naked and willing in her bed. He loved animals, especially those Paso Fino horses and Devonshire cattle his uncle in Sandy Valley raised. She would take Benny to the farm near White Post, Virginia, and she would let him entertain himself with them all day long.

And at night, he would entertain her, just as he used to do.

A baby cooed at Cindy's feet. She reached down and tickled the chubby belly. The little boy giggled and grasped her hand.

"How is mama's little warrior, honey? How is Mama's baby Benny?"

The reporters stirred, looked from her to the ravens, then to Benny.

Raven circled above them, calling lonely cries. Another swooped, not for hair, but to rap her beak sharply on the head of a man. The reporter cried out and clapped a hand over his head. It came away wet and bloody. More ravens answered the man.

"You're evil," the female reporter screamed at Benny. "You're doing this." She pointed a trembling hand at the massing ravens. Her partner lifted a camera and took shots of the birds and the farm and of Benny. "Abomination."

Boone stepped out beside his mother, a New Field Remington cradled lightly, dark in his arms.

The ravens whistled and jeered, growing more agitated as minutes passed. Other birds joined them. Far above a golden eagle circled in lazy figure eights and observed and commanded and laughed to herself.

Back in the swamp, something howled and prepared to attack the invaders.

From the shadowy high corners of the war room, a raven peered at the baby and snickered.

Fat little manling, sweet little manling. Learn from me and mine, little manling. Your grandmother calls to you. Look and love.

A picture of Anna appeared in the baby's mind. He giggled and laughed as Anna whispered to him and showered him with love.

Dohi:yi, ayotli. My galise:tsi, your Nana is here, my little i:ya, my little pumpkin.

Anna chuckled and mentally tickled him. This was her first-born grandchild, one of dozens produced by the Janissary Project, all boys. The God would not permit anything so sacred as a girl to be born to the surrogate mothers the Project forced to bear them. She looked wistfully at the baby. Dear Tsi:ge:Yu:i, but I want to hold him.

There are the others, Grey-wolf Woman. Go to them now.

Very gently, the Wolf of God led her away.

The raven swelled with pride. His charge, the baby, was very important to the Woman Who Commands, the Eagle-Mother. He shifted his stance and defied any asgina or nenepi to dare come near. Unclean spirits cowered away. The raven elected not to notice a massive, powerful guardian spirit behind him.

The baby's aga:ki Guardian smiled indulgently at the young raven and held himself ready to defend the child at all cost, even if it be his own existence.

Sergeant Johnny Lyndon showed the couple in.

Eyes hooded at the sight of a police uniform, the husband slid passed the deputy into the darkened room. His time in prison was still too fresh in his mind, too bitter in his stomach, for him to trust such men as those who enslave others. Slave catchers for the State. Cops. He tugged gently on his wife's lean hand.

"This here's the line up," Lyndon announced. The young man cocked an eye. "Uh, yeah, guess you'd know that."

"Sign says so."

The deputy gave them a look of frustration.

Six men walked out onto the stage under the hot glare of lights, all sullen, all showing the bitterness of being here.

"Stop. Face left. Back up against the chart," Johnny ordered. He grinned at Benny. Nothing had been going right lately, and somehow, it all had to be that kid's fault. Terry Marie would need a real man to comfort her after this punk was proven a murderer.

A woman came in, a child held in her arms, her hair done in painstaking corn-rows.

The wife turned and cried, "Give me my baby." She snatched the child from the female deputy. The woman gave her a tentative smile. "I realize this is very hard on you, ma'am."

She glanced at the husband. He glared back.

"You made us come down. Let's get it over with."

"Can your daughter point out the man she saw at the Long's house, Mr. Garcia? Don't be afraid, they can't see in here."

Mrs. Garcia took the child to the glass partition. Six men. Six sullen faces, all dark, all of the People. All of them forced to attend this party of hate. One of them was a monster. Only a monster would murder the old. A loving, caring couple like her parents was dead.

Oh, Mama, how we miss you and Daddy.

The little girl looked at each man, her dark eyes grave. The police had frightened her when they came to the house. She thought she was arrested like they had her papa.

Seeing Benny, she grinned and waved.

A glow appeared behind the man she recognized. Spears of light shot up and formed a glittering column.

She squealed, "Wuohali-Ika'hina nVda, Mama. Look."

Benny heard her laughter through the glass and wanted to curse, but his mouth was too dry, the delicate membranes refused to work. She was yelling in Cherokee. The People of the Sun? She could see them. The other men, hard, angry men, sensed the gentle love weaving around them all now and moved in jerky, nervous steps away from Benny, leaving him alone and exposed on the platform.

The tiny doll of a child giggled and played peek-a-boo with the Eagle Woman. The Woman of the Sun chuckled and played at hiding her eyes.

Lyndon was past the blade of irritability and well into strict anger. "What did she say?"

Eyes wide, Mrs. Garcia stared at Benny. She spun and thrust her way passed the deputies and her husband. The door. She jerked on the knob and stumbled back into her husband's arms. Mrs. Garcia pulled free and was out of the room. The lights of the hall dazzled her for a moment just as Lyndon caught her above the elbow and jerked her to a halt.

"Nothing. She didn't say nothing," the woman shouted and hugged the child close. Dear Tsi:ge:Yu:i. That boy. He was the one sent to die.

Her eyes flooded with tears.

Lyndon shook her. "What did she say, dammit?"

"He didn't. He couldn't." Mrs. Garcia caught sight of Benny and shrank from him, her face stark with fear and reverence.

"He couldn't o' done it," she whispered. Her body made a slow decent to kneel. "Tsi:dedanwa'gi nVda. Sacred Warrior of the Sun-Father. Help us who live in defeat."

Her husband caught her up and held her close. "Dios, Janna, what the hell are you talking about?" He glared at Benny, then the deputies flanking him, at Lyndon who wore a look of triumph. "Mom and Poppy Long-"

"No murderer here, baby. Mama and Daddy gave up their lives to protect - someone." Mrs. Garcia shook her head, her face reflecting a heart aching with her loss. "I'm gone. Ain't no murderer here."

Shrugging off her husband's concerned hands, she moved with a swift walk to Benny. Lyndon was muttering that the little girl had fingered him. "Confess, Grey-"

"May I touch you?"

Lyndon glared down at her, his expression sour, the chew shoved into the back of his jaws.

In the same reverent tones, Benny asked, "May I bed you?" He leered at her.

Her answer startled them all.

"Yes. Please. I'd be honored to bear your daughter."

As if bored, Benny told Lyndon, "I want a brew and a smoke. And her." He thrust his hips at her daughter and laughed at her man.

Confused by his actions, she frowned and backed up a step. This was the Sacred-Person who would begin the War? No, he couldn't be the one. No real god would empower a pervert.

It was the child who decided matters. With a shriek of pure joy, she launched herself at Benny. He staggered back a few paces before catching his balance.

She patted his face.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself." Benny glared at her and tried to dislodge the imp. She clung harder than a pair of handcuffs.

She giggled and hugged him. He sighed and returned the hug.

Mrs. Garcia gave Benny's scar a feather light stroke.

"My oh my. Mama was right. Marked by the God. The End-Times. Grey-Wolf Warrior of the Sun. My," she said, breathless and in awe. She wiped away her tears and laughed long and loud.

"Freedom's coming, boys. Yes. Praise God, Hallelu."

Benny shoved the child at her mother.

"Go on, beat it."

"Love, Wolf-Man. We love you-"

"Love?" Benny said. He spat on the floor between them, his words hard and cold. "I don't believe in it. And I don't want to see any of you again. Ev-ver."

"Fibbing be bad," the little girl told him.

"I am bad," he said with a leer. "Just ask the fuzzy creeps here. A real mean one. I eat little girls. Alive," he added with relish.

She laughed at him.

Annoyed, Benny snapped, "And without salt."

"You're silly."

"You sang for . . . you know. We found tobacco over the bodies, and a cigarette," Mrs. Garcia whispered and glanced at the deputies. "Waya dohi:yi, Grey-Wolf. Thank you." She gave Benny a fierce hug.

Pulling away from him, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Die for us, Wolf of God. Give us the Wolf's Peace."

Lyndon shuddered. He glared down at Benny. "They're lying, dammit. What did you do, threaten them?"

Benny pulled out of Lyndon's grasp and straightened his jacket with a careless shrug. "Nothing, man. I didn't do nothing, didn't say nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing to me." Lyndon used an old tried and true threat, one that had closed many a case. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "if anything happened to you, she'd be our suspect."

"Bastard."

Lyndon shrugged and grinned.

"It means what it says, cop. Women are born to life/men but to die."

Benny laughed without joy, hollow and bitter.

"Women make the crops grow, bring kids into this world, are sacred from conception to death. Men are born only to protect women." He flashed a grim smile. "She was telling me to do my duty to God and woman. By dying for them."

Lyndon's eyes became thoughtful.

Get it yet, jerk-face? Two Swords bellowed. His foot thumped into Lyndon's backside and Johnny's chew fell a long, long way down and hit hard at the very bottom of his stomach.

Johnny's Guardian turned away from this flagrant abuse of his charge and hid a grin.

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