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the floor. He picked the child up and began to pace back and forth in front of the congregation, the child on his hip.

“We had turned into a zombie. We had died and become what We feared. When We grasped that God had turned away from Us, We thought, ‘I should join my brothers and sisters.’ There was no point in denying Our nature, because there is no way to hide from His judgment!”

Connor looked at the child in the Prophet’s arms. The boy was about three, with the soft curve of cheek and chin that came with childhood, but there was no mistaking it: he too was the man’s child. He scanned the rest of the congregation. To Connor’s eye there were at least eight other kids of varying ages who bore such a strong resemblance to this prophet that he might be their father as well.

How many kids does this guy have?

“We accepted Our fate. We opened the doors and went outside, but the other Hollow Men shunned Us! They ran from Us! We pursued them, but they wanted nothing to do with Us. We fell to Our knees and cried out to God! We held His Bible, confessed Our sins, begged for His mercy. We begged to be accepted by Our hollowed-out brothers and sisters. We told Him that We understood His plan.”

The preacher set the boy down, as the congregation again joined in.

“We heard an angry voice that filled Us with fear: You understand nothing.”

Their prophet looked out over the congregation, nodding his head in approval.

“For God had spoken to Us,” he said. “God had restored Us, delivered us from Our fate as a Hollow Man. He commanded Us to collect the righteous and to build a New Jerusalem of God-fearing men. He told Us that We would be His Prophet, His God All-Father On Earth, for those who might one day be worthy of His Judgment. Our wicked, sinful life before would show the righteous His mercy for those obedient to His Will.”

The preacher took a deep breath. He bowed his head and brought his folded hands to his lips. “Praise be the God of Judgment.”

“Praise be the God of Judgment,” the congregation answered.

The preacher looked up. The room brightened as more of the Prophet’s Guard turned up the hurricane lanterns throughout the room.

“Those foretold in Our Revelation have arrived,” he said, hand outstretched to indicate where Connor and the others stood.

Everyone in the room turned in their seats. Whispers began as heads bobbed and necks craned, seeking better views.

“We will conclude Our service now, so that We may offer a proper welcome. Finish your devotions in your homes, My Children. Praise be the God of Judgment.”

The whispers became chattering and gawking. People began to file out the now opened doors, but rubber-necked so much that a bottleneck of foot traffic formed.

The preacher came through the crowd, which parted around him.

Finn addressed him. “Prophet, I present Doug Michel, lately of San Jose, and his companions.”

The prophet nodded and held his hand out to Doug. “We are Jeremiah Butler.”

“Doug Michel,” said Doug as he shook his hand. “We’re in your debt.”

Jeremiah shook his head and demurred. “There are only four of you.”

“Two are with your healer,” said Doug.

“Ah. Healer Bethany is capable, and I am sure you are tired from your trials. Is there anything you wish to know?”

Have you ever been under psychiatric care? Connor thought.

“Since you ask, I’ve gotta say,” Doug said, sounding like he had fallen off the turnip truck yesterday. “I’ve been in San Jose a long time and nobody has any idea you’re here.”

“We offer those who find Us the opportunity to accept Heavenly Father’s true salvation of Judgment. He reveals His Will to me, and We instruct Our people in His ways. If the outcome of His Revelation is that We stand apart from the sin and wickedness of the remnants of the old world, We must believe that is what God the Heavenly Father desires. He sends to Us only those who might be ready to receive the enlightenment of His judgment.”

By now the building was almost empty. Connor saw a teenaged girl catch Finn’s eye just before she passed through the doors. Finn did not return the girl’s expectant smile, but Connor could tell that he was happy to have seen her.

“Finn is your son,” Connor said.

“He is. Like all young men, he is headstrong, but he will learn.” Jeremiah turned to Finn. “See that Our friends are given baths and sustenance and left to rest undisturbed.” He returned his attention to Doug. “I welcome you and your companions to New Jerusalem. With Our guidance, your eyes will be opened to Heavenly Father’s plan for you.”

“If Finn and Dalton had not come when they did, we’d be dead. We’ll never forget that,” Doug answered.

Jeremiah’s smile was small and tight. “You are most welcome, but any praise belongs to the Heavenly Father alone.”

When he didn’t say more, Finn said, “I will see to providing for Your guests, Father. If—”

“Finn,” Jeremiah interrupted. “I trust you saw Tamara?”

Finn went rigid. The change in his body language was so marked that for a moment Connor thought he was having some sort of fit.

“Yes, Father,” he answered, sounding like he was trying to keep his voice neutral, but he wasn’t able to pull it off.

Jeremiah regarded his son with a nasty gleam in his eye. “Tamara seems troubled. We would have you bring her to Us in an hour’s time. We desire your presence as We pray with her to discern what might be amiss with Our daughter.”

Finn looked stricken. The color drained from his face. His lips pressed together so tight that they barely moved when he said, “As the Prophet commands.”

They stopped at the infirmary to drop Seffie off; she had started to feel faint, and co-ed facilities were not an option in New Jerusalem anyway. Both Miranda and Mario were asleep; checking in would have to wait until morning. Back in their guest quarters, Connor literally had to bite his tongue to keep from speaking before the attendant left them alone to go check on the promised baths.

“What do you think?” Connor asked

Doug started to laugh, but without mirth. “Apart from the obvious?”

“Do you think he might be immune?”

“I think he had a psychotic break that included a one-way ticket to Cuckooville,” Mike said.

Doug bit his bottom lip. Connor had noticed he did so when he was thinking.

“Well,” he said, “either he had a psychotic break and is immune, or he had a psychotic break and went on to become your garden variety megalomaniac cult leader, which I think is more likely. I think it’s safe to say he’s never going to get the mental health care he needs.”

“Those Hollow Man symbols are everywhere, on every door and gate,” Connor said. “What the hell is that?”

“Reminders,” Mike said.

“You’re right,” Doug said, nodding his head. “They’re a good way to reinforce his appalling theology and keep people scared. I didn’t think we could be more screwed than when we were trapped in that house.”

“Did you see the way Finn reacted when his father started talking about that girl?” Mike asked.

Doug nodded. “Finn might be helpful. We’ll have to sound him out.”

Mike said, “These people blew up the road. I’d bet my life on it. Anyone taking 17 to Santa Cruz has to turn back at that point and take one of the mountain roads if they don’t turn back. Roads that just happen to push you in this direction.”

“And if you abandon your vehicle, there are traps set in the forest,” Doug added. At Mike’s quizzical look, he added, “When Connor and I went into the forest he was almost caught in a net. If there’s no one else up here, they must belong to these people.”

“He assumes we’re staying,” Doug continued. “How else have they kept their existence secret unless anyone who ends up here can’t leave? He’s so fucking nuts he probably believes God is sending people to him.”

“He can’t be holding everyone here against their will,” Mike countered.

Below, the moans of the zombies swelled and receded. A shiver tickled down Connor’s spine.

Doug shuddered. “I guess it’s background noise for the people who live here but that moaning…” Doug’s voice trailed off. “Son of a bitch, they don’t have to force people to stay! Think about it. You’ve just been miraculously rescued and there are zombies down below, moaning day and night. I couldn’t believe it when I saw there’s no palisade around the area underneath the village. That’s one of the first things I’d do, but they don’t have one.”

Connor looked at Doug, then Mike. “I guess it goes without saying that we need to get out of here fast.”

Doug shrugged his shoulders, a helpless gesture. “I don’t see how we can. Miranda’s leg, she can’t walk on it. And Mario… The guy’s been shot, exploded, run a half marathon, and almost dislocated his shoulder trying to keep himself and Seffie from falling off a roof in the last forty-eight hours alone. If he doesn’t get some rest, I don’t know how long he’ll stay in one piece.”

All three men jumped when a knock sounded against the door. A moment later it opened, and the attendant’s head appeared.

“The bath is ready, sirs, if one of you is ready.”

“I can wait,” Connor said to Doug.

“You’re the fearless leader,” Mike added.

“And it’s such

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