Everyone is the Church's servant, doing its will and helping its leaders.

The Manuals of the Bunker, Vol. 1, Verse 8

With a splash, I landed in the pile of muck at the bottom of the chute. My legs buckled, and I fell forward.

The stench made me gag.

"Now, who do we have here?" The speaker stood before me, hands on his shovel, grinning.

Frankie.

Spitting gunk, I pushed myself up onto my knees.

The guy raised his shovel as if it to take a swing at my head.

"Stop!" Jasmine entered the image, grabbing the tool's socket.

"Lemme squash this bug." He snatched the shovel from her, but she now stood between him and me.

I rose and stepped away from the waste, still dazed by the impact of my hard landing.

"This is none of your business, Jasmine." Frankie pushed her out of the way. "Captain Wolfe will love it when I bring him this little traitor scumbag"

A screech from above stopped him mid-sentence.

"Eeeeaaaw!"

Flailing her arms, Amy barreled down the chute. She hit the waste with an ugly squelch and sprayed all of us with smelly liquids.

"Shite onna heap!" she said and got up.

"Who the hell's that?" Frankie lowered his shovel and stared at the mud-clogged redhead, his eyes wide open.

She ignored him and stepped to my side. Brownish muck covered her pants and feet. She tried wiping it off and failed. "Eww!"

"Hey, I'm talking to you. I'm the foreman here." Frankie smirked at me while saying this.

I didn't envy him for the job.

Amy glowered at Frankie from under the war stripe adorning her forehead. "Good fer ye. Then go and clean yer craphole."

"Watch your tongue, girl." Frankie hefted his spade and stood before her, legs apart, with his knees slightly bent. "And clean your filthy face before you talk to me."

I saw it coming before Amy even moved.

She swung her leg and kicked his soft parts. "Watch yer dick, idiot."

Frankie dropped the tool and held both his hands over his groin, his face red, eyes bulging. He groaned.

"Frankie!" Jasmine went to the foreman's side and touched his arm.

He brushed her away and glowered at Amy. "You'll regret this, you little piece of shit. I'll—"

His voice trailed off when he saw the gun Amy pointed at him.

"Ye'll what?" She arched an eyebrow, which made a flake of her warpaint come off.

Frankie took a step back and held one hand before his chest while the other one was still nursing his groin.

I remembered his dick jutting upwards, the day I had interrupted him and Jasmine in the pumpkins.

Well, jutting might not be in his near future.

"Who's this... mud-smeared woman?" Jasmine stepped closer to me, positioning herself with me between her and Amy. "Make her put down that pistol. Let's be reasonable."

"Who's that hoe?" Amy asked, her eyes still on Frankie. "Make her shut up, or I'll be unreasonable. And it's not mud, s'warpaint."

"Amy, meet Jasmine. Jasmine, meet Amy." I thought it was funny, but none of the two girls smiled.

Amy put a hand on my arm, her other one still holding the gun trained at the new foreman.

"What... Where have you been? Everybody was looking for you." Jasmine's gaze was on Amy's hand touching me.

Her question was directed at me, but Amy answered. "First, we had a look at that shrine of yers. But it was just full of junk. And some of it even fell apart. So we went to the surface, bitch." She shrugged.

Frankie sneered. "Sure. The surface."

Amy raised the gun to point at his face. "Call me a liar. I'd really like that."

He took another step back. Then he turned and ran.

"Coward." Amy swiveled the weapon in Jasmine's direction.

My ex crossed her arms.

I didn't want bloodshed, and we were wasting time here. "Come, Amy, let's go."

"What about her?" Amy gestured her weapon at Jasmine.

"She won't be a problem," I said. "Jasmine, tell Frankie to leave us alone. We'll go right to the upper cavern to meet the bishop and captain Wolfe. We've got to talk to them."

She nodded. "Are you okay, Tim?"

"Yes, thanks." I smiled at her. Then I looked at Amy's scowling face. "Let's move."

When we were out of earshot from Jasmine, Amy repeated her question. "Who is she?"

"A friend."

"A friend?"

"Yes." It didn't feel like a good time to elaborate, unsure what Amy would make of Jasmine and me having been together. We had more pressing matters to attend to. And Amy was still holding that pistol—it didn't shoot, but better to be safe than sorry.

She was uncharacteristically silent as we approached the village. We didn't enter the square but walked along its outmost houses and headed for the stairs to the upper cavern. Frankie and Carp stood at the corner of the closest hut and watched us, a dozen steps away, both armed with shovels.

Amy aimed the gun at them. "Stay where ye are, shit rats!"

They just glowered at us.

"Tim!"

The voice made me stop in my tracks. I knew it well.

Marge!

She was running towards us from the village, waving her arms.

"And who's that?" Amy asked.

"Ed's mom. You've seen her on the moving picture in the control room."

"Oops."

Yes, oops.

She stopped a few steps away from me, gave Amy a brief frown, and looked at me. "Tim, it's so good to see you. Jasmine just told me you're here."

"Hello, Marge." I forced a smile, knowing what she was about to ask.

"Do you know where Ed is? He's been missing since the night they arrested your father."

"I..." I wasn't prepared for this.

I'd never be prepared for this.

"I'm so worried." She laughed nervously. "You know how mothers are."

I wasn't able to smile back. "Yes, I know. He has tried to fix the pump, attempting... We hoped to be able to release my dad and the craner by making the swamp work again."

Her smile was gone.

I lowered my gaze.

"Yer son drowned in the flood that the bishop's people made," Amy said. "Ed died as a hero. Ye can be proud of him, woman."

"Drowned?"

I nodded. "Yes, Marge. He drowned. I'm sorry. It's my—"

Amy gripped my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh. "I'm sorry, too. But we have to leave now. Or his dad and the crane man will die as well."

Before I could say anything more, she dragged me off.

I looked back at Marge. She stood there, wringing her hands and staring after us.

"What was all that about?" I asked, yanking my arm from her grip.

"It's called telling the truth. I'm sure the yer bishop approves of it as long as it's not him who has to do it."

"I don't give fuck about the bishop. That was cruel."

We had reached the stairs, and I led the way, stomping the steps furiously.

"Being cruel is better than lying to her or not answering her real questions," she said. "She deserves the truth."

"But—"

"Lying is what yer manuals do. They tell false stuff to make people act the way they should. I don't like that even if they mean well. It's propagander."

I pondered her words as we ascended.

Yes, she was right. What the manuals did was pulling strings, manipulating with lies. The people who wrote them might have had the best intentions, trying to keep things running smoothly.

But their lies sucked.

And everyone here had built their lives upon them.

"And..." She hesitated. "His death... it wasn't yer fault. Ye couldn't have known that this shite would happen. That the water would come. Ye tried to do good there. Ye just wanted to help yer dad and yer friend. And that's right and proper."

Was it? I wasn't sure what was right and proper. Not anymore. But I said nothing.

When we reached the upper cavern, we found the fields on both sides of the concourse deserted.

Like the one below, this cavern looked much smaller than I remembered it.

"No one is working," I said. "I don't like this." It wasn't evening yet, and the people should be busy tending their crops.

"Do ye think...?" She didn't finish her sentence, but I knew what she meant.

"Yes, maybe they're having the trial right now." Or worse, what came after the trial. "Let's hurry."

We broke into a run.

Amy looked back. "Oh, yer friends are joining us."

I turned my head. Three figures ran behind us, their shapes unmistakable—Jasmine, Frankie, Carp. "Not my friends."

"But the girl is, ye said so."

"Was." I ran faster.

Ahead, the concourse passed the loo house and ended right at the temple. People were gathered on the square before it.

"That's a lot of folks." Amy's breath was ragged, just like mine.

"More than two hundred if it's all of them, from both caverns."

"Wow!"

A dais had been erected on the square, built from bales of straw. A figure in yellow dominated it. The bishop held his arms apart, probably preaching. Others stood or sat behind him. The people were assembled in a large circle around it.

As I got closer, I recognized Wolfe and the two other guards lined up behind the bishop. They guarded my father and the craner sitting between them. Both had their hand bound.

I exhaled in relief. "It's them," I said. "My dad and the craner."

"Good. We're on time, then."

Were we? A rope with a noose hung from a corner of the temple. A scaffold stood below it, waiting.

The bishop's hands dropped as we got nearer. He turned in our direction and crossed his arms before his chest. He must have seen us.

The crowd parted as we approached, murmuring.

Wolfe whispered something into the bishop's ear.

We came to a stop, a few steps from the dais, panting.

"Welcome!" The bishop extended his arms in a gesture of benediction. "It is good to see you again, Tim and Amy. We have just judged over these two here and were about to execute the verdict. But now we can make it four."

The only one smiling was the bishop.