"I think she was carried off." The words had barely left DeMarco's lips when, faintly, they all heard the sound of a car's engine revving and then fading within seconds into silence.

"Amateurs." DeMarco repeated.

"And heartless, not to come back for their dead." It was said with absolutely no sense of irony, and the man still kneeling beside the bodies looked down at them sorrowfully for a moment before lifting his gaze again to DeMarco. "I didn't hear Father saydoes he want these two brought back?"

DeMarco shook his head. "Dump the bodies in the river, Brian. Fisk, help him. It's nearly dawn; we need to get back."

They obeyed the clear order, holstering their weapons and bending to the task of lifting the large, heavy man from the frozen ground.

"Over a shoulder would be easier," Carl Fisk panted as they struggled to manage the dead weight. "Fireman's carry."

"You can if you want to," Brian Seymour told him. "Not me. I go back covered in this guy's blood and my wife is gonna ask all kinds of questions."

"All right, all right. Just lift your share, will you? Shit, Brian"

DeMarco looked after the two men for a long moment until they disappeared into the forest and he could measure their progress only by the continuing complaints and fading grunts of effort. Finally he returned his weapon to the shoulder holster he wore and knelt beside the body of Sarah Warren.

He didn't have to check for a pulse but did it anyway, then gently closed her eyes so the frosty whiteness was no longer visible. Only then did he methodically search her to make certain she wasn't carrying identificationor anything else that might cause problems.

It was a very thorough search, which was why he found the silver medallion hidden in her left shoe. It was small, nearly flat, and on its polished surface was carved a lightning bolt.

DeMarco held it in his palm, watching the moonlight shimmer off the talisman as he moved his hand. Finally, becoming aware of the not-exactly-silent return of his men, he replaced Sarah's shoe, got to his feet, and slipped the medallion into his pocket.

"That bastard weighed a ton," Brian informed DeMarco as they joined him in the clearing, still huffing from the effort.

"I doubt you'll have the same problem with her," DeMarco told him.

Fisk said, "We're lucky that the river's deep and the current moving fast right now, but is it smart to keep using it for disposal?"

"No, the smart thing would be to make sure disposal isn't necessary," DeMarco told him, his tone not so much critical as it was icy.

Brian sent him a wary look, then said quickly to Fisk, "You get her legs and I'll get her shoulders."

Fisk, who had locked eyes with DeMarco, didn't respond for a moment. Then he said, "Just help me get her over my shoulder. She's not bloody and I can manage her alone."

Brian didn't argue. He didn't, in fact, say another word until Fisk was on his way back to the river, the small, limp body over his shoulder clearly not a burden.

"Reese, he's a good man," Brian said then.

"Is he? We lost Ellen under his watch. Now Sarah and the girl. And I don't believe in coincidence, Brian."

"Look, I'm sure Father doesn't blame Carl."

"Father has other things to occupy his mind these days. My job is to protect him and the congregation. My job is to worry about anomalies. And Fisk is a worry."

Unhappily, Brian said, "Okay, I get you. I'll keep an eye on him, Reese."

"Do that. And report anything unusual. Anything, Brian."

"Right. Right. Copy that."

They waited in silence for Fisk to return, with DeMarco staring down at the dark glimmer of blood slowly freezing on the cold ground.

"Want me to cover that up?" Brian ventured finally.

"Not now. The weather service reports a front moving in, bringing rain by dawn. In a few hours there'll be nothing left here for anyone to see."

"And the questions we'll get? About Sarah and the kid?"

"When we get back to the Compound, go to Sarah's room and pack up all her things. Quietly. Bring them to me. I'll take care of the child's belongings. Refer any questions about either of them to me."

"Will it interfere with Father's plans? Losing the kid, I mean."

"I don't know."

"Oh. Well, I just thought if anybody would know, it'd be you."

DeMarco turned his head and looked at his companion. "If you have a question, ask it."

"I just I wonder, that's all. About Father's plans. He talks about the Prophecy, he talks about the End Times, says we're almost there. So why aren't we getting ready?"

"We are."

"Reese, we barely have enough guns to arm security for the Compound."

"Guns won't stop an apocalypse," DeMarco replied dryly.

"But we survive. More than survivewe prosper. Father promised."

"Yes. And he's doing everything in his power to make sure that happens. You believe it, don't you?"

"Sure. Sure. I mean, he's never lied to us. All his visions have come true." Brian shivered unconsciously. "And the things he can do The power he can tap into whenever he wants He's been touched by God, we all know that."

"Then why are you worried?"

Brian shifted in obvious uncertainty and discomfort. "It's just the women, I guess. You aren't a married man, so I don't know if you could understand."

"Perhaps not."

Encouraged by that neutral response, Brian went on carefully. "I know it's important to strengthen Father's gifts. I get that, I do. And I understandwell, sort of understandwhy he can draw what he needs from the women but not from us."

"Women were created to sustain men," DeMarco said, his voice still neutral, almost indifferent.

"Yes, of course. And I know it doesn't harm themthe opposite, if anything." He sounded faintly dissatisfied about that, even to himself, and hurried on before DeMarco could comment. "But not every woman is able or willing, Reese. Ellen, Sarah. The others. Should they be forced against their will?"

"Have you seen any force employed?"

Brian didn't look away, even though he could feel more than see those cold, cold eyes stabbing him through the moonlit night. "No. But I've heard things. And those who aren't willing, who aren't flattered by serving Father's needs, they always seem to turn up missing, eventually. Or turn up the way Ellen and Sarah did."

DeMarco allowed the silence to stretch until Brian shifted again beneath his stare, then he said deliberately, "If you don't like the way Father runs things, Brian, if you aren't happy here, then perhaps you should talk to him about it."

Brian wavered for only a moment and then took a physical step back as he shook his head. "No. No, I've no complaint. Father's been nothing but good to me and mine. I believe in him."

"I'm glad to hear that." DeMarco turned his head as they both heard the noisy footsteps of their returning comrade. "Very glad. Remind me, will you, to have a talk with Fisk about maintaining quiet whether we're tracking or not, especially when we're outside the Compound."

"Sure." Brian was glad those cold hawk eyes were focused on someone else. "But whoever took the kid is long gone, right? I mean, you don't suspect someone else is out there, listening? Watching?"

"Someone's always out there, Brian. Always. You'd be wise not to forget that."