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  Ustagov turned to Gabriel. “How did you end up in Purgatory?”

  Gabriel stared straight ahead. “Slavery.”

  “You were a slave?”

  “A trader.” Gabriel faced the doctor. As he did, his black ponytail slid over his shoulder and dropped down his back. “Back then it was a perfectly acceptable profession, at least in the eyes of man. My religion considered those of other faiths who were conquered as the spoils of war. I sold women and young girls into the sex trade and men and boys into hard labor. I made a good living at it, so much so that I settled down, built a home, and started my own family.”

  “What happened?”

  “My family was traveling to visit my mother when raiders attacked their caravan. They sold my wife into prostitution, made my daughter the concubine of the raider commander, and executed my son for defending the honor of his mother and sister. Only then did I realize the depravity of the sins I had committed; however, my regret came too late to save myself.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ustagov.

  “I’m the one who’s sorry, sorry for all the heartache and suffering I caused. You claim to be a man of science, doctor. I used to consider myself a man of business as well as a man of faith. Trust me when I say our faith and our beliefs mean nothing. It’s our actions that count. I didn’t realize that and suffered dearly for it on Earth and in Purgatory. I now have a chance to perform actions that can redeem my soul, and I intend to do that.”

  For a moment, Ustagov said nothing. He focused on Luther. “I’m afraid to ask about your sin.”

  “You should be.” Luther’s blue eyes expressed more irony than humor. “My sin is much like yours. I wound up in Purgatory because I accepted science as my religion, in my case medicine. I shunned religion from the moment I entered university in 18th Century Nuremberg, writing it off as a salve for those weak of mind and spirit, a way for the church to control the people during their miserable lives. I wanted to make a difference, so I spent my life discovering the causes of diseases and curing the sick, especially amongst the poor. My good deeds kept me out of Hell while my lack of faith kept me out of Heaven. You should consider my story a cautionary tale.”

  Ustagov changed the topic. “What about you, Sasha?”

  Sasha sighed. “I have no idea why I was banished or why I was chosen to be part of the Purgatoriati. No one ever explained to me my sins. After I fell off the bell tower at Notre Dame, I woke up in Purgatory where Father Belsario drafted me. He keeps saying there’s a special reason I’m here but won’t tell me what it is.”

  Ustagov did not press the issue, knowing that Sasha’s presence caused a rift between Jason and Jeanette. “What about Father Belsario? What sins did he commit?”

  “None,” said Luther. “When God couldn’t get anyone in Heaven to come back to Earth, Father Belsario volunteered to go to Purgatory to raise recruits.”

  “That’s dedication.”

  Luther raised an eyebrow. “That, my dear doctor, is faith.”

  “When you came back you received superhuman powers?” asked Ustagov.

  Luther shook his head. “The Purgatoriati have been granted increased strength and agility, though nothing you could term superhuman. We don’t need sleep and we don’t get tired. In battle, we have the strength of five men. While we feel pain the way you do, it doesn’t impair our ability to fight. Minor wounds heal quickly. If our bodies are destroyed or take enough damage to be rendered useless, our souls are transported back to Purgatory, and then we’re resurrected a few days later.”

  “Amazing,” Ustagov said under his breath.

  “What is?” asked Jonah.

  “That the existence of Heaven and Hell is a reality and no longer just a matter of faith. Two years ago, I scoffed at the idea. Now that their existence is empirically proven I have no choice but to accept.”

  “Are you now a man of faith?” Luther asked.

  Ustagov chuckled. “My parents were devoted members of the Communist Party, and I received my training as a scientist in the former Soviet Union. Faith is not something that comes naturally to a man like me.”

  “I can empathize with your situation,” said Luther. “On the bright side, if you die out here, maybe you’ll be banished to Purgatory like me and can come back as one of us.”

  Ustagov nodded. The prospect of death scared him, although not as much as coming back as one of the Purgatoriati.

  * * *

  For Luther, the discussion with Ustagov had generated his own set of questions. When the doctor returned to the front of the column, Luther caught Matthew’s attention and motioned for his comrade to join him. Together, the two slowed their pace and dropped back until they were parallel with Jonah and Gabriel.

  Gabriel eyed them suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m curious about something,” said Luther. “What happened after you guys died in Russia?”

  “The same thing that happened when we first died,” Gabriel replied. “We woke up in Purgatory.”

  “Did anyone greet you?”

  “Someone met me,” said Jonah. “Sister Francesca. She guided me through the process while I waited for my time to come back.”

  “Sister Francesca did the same for me,” added Gabriel. “She didn’t show up until after I had been there for a few days.”

  “What was she doing there?” Matthew asked.

  Jonah chuckled. “Like Father Belsario, she wasn’t easy to get to know. I’d mentioned to Sister Francesca one night we were losing so many people closing the portals that I wondered if we were truly contributing to saving Earth. She told me she had been a Catholic nun in Lyons during World War II and had been tortured and murdered by the Gestapo for helping the French Resistance. Then she chastised me, reminding me that small acts of courage build up over time and can defeat even the greatest evil and that I should put my faith in God and think more positively.”

  Gabriel nodded, himself having experienced her charms.

  “Is she recruiting others to join us?” asked Luther.

  Jonah shook his head. “I asked Sister Francesca that. She became even more stern than usual and told me to concentrate on doing my best for the Purgatoriati. Any time I tried to bring up the subject with others, they either had no idea what I was talking about or would curtly end the topic.”

  “There’s no indication that anyone in Purgatory is being recruited to join us,” added Gabriel. “I got the feeling that the six of us are going to be constantly recycled through the system until we close all the portals. And no one wants to admit that out of fear we’ll refuse to continue and opt to serve out our term in Purgatory.”

  “Maybe we’re an embarrassment,” said Luther.

  “You don’t think we’re doing a good job?” Matthew huffed.

  “I’m not referring to our performance, but to our very existence.” Luther lowered his voice. “Remember, no one in Heaven wanted to fight the Demon Spawn, so Father Belsario had to find recruits in Purgatory. We’ve more than exceeded their expectations. And three of us have died a second time. Heaven may be afraid to recruit any more of us because it’ll expose the hypocrisy of the faithful.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” Jonah said it more as a warning than out of anger. “You got yourself in trouble in your first life thinking that way.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m one of the faithful now and don’t mind atoning for my past sins. You must admit though, all the secrecy is unsettling. It’s almost as if they’re refusing to tell us we’re the only ones who are Purgatoriati because they’re afraid we won’t come back next time.”

  Gabriel and Jonah protested that. Matthew lowered his head. “I confess I’ve had second thoughts.”

  The others stared at him.

  “We can be wounded in combat and die a painful death.” Matthew focused on Gabriel and Jonah. “You missed the battle at Lake Baikal. It was far more brutal than Minsk or Moscow. And the battles are only going to get tougher as the Demon Spawn fight harder
to keep the portals open. How many times are we going to die violently and come back, only to die again?”

  None of the others responded. Their facial expressions indicated that they had at least contemplated the idea.

  Luther broke the silence. “How does Sasha feel about this?”

  Gabriel frowned. “They’ve kept her even more in the dark about what’s going on than they have us, though she’ll come back no matter how many times she dies. She’s still in love with Jason.”

  “I feel bad for her,” said Jonah.

  “Why?”

  “She doesn’t mind being part of the Purgatoriati because she’s able to be with Jason. Once we close the portals, she’ll be devastated.”

  Chapter Eight

  Bai rested in an old recliner salvaged from a house whose occupants had fled and left the doors open. The dark cloak draped over her body and covered the weathered upholstery. Mei sat at her feet, listening intently as Bai related stories of the Promised Land and the new beginning that awaited them all. Mei found such tales rapturous. After so many decades of suffering under Communism and so much horror following Armageddon, it brought comfort to know that a better future lay in store for humanity. A future Mei was helping to bring about.

  A noise outside their tent distracted Mei. She snapped her head around in irritation, ready to scold the transgressor who had interrupted such a peaceful moment. The bad karma dissipated as rapidly as it had formed. Negativity had no place in this new world. Mei mentally asked for forgiveness and waited. A few moments later, one of the scouts burst through the tent flaps. Upon spotting Bai, he bowed his head and fell to one knee, cupping one hand over the other.

  “Pardon the intrusion, Mistress.”

  Bai nodded slightly.

  “I should have knocked first.”

  “Yes, you should have.” Mei softened the harshness of her tone. “I trust there is a reason for your enthusiasm.”

  “There is.” The scout did not budge.

  “What is so important?” asked Bai.

  Having received the Mistress’ approval, the scout rose and nodded to the two women. “We’ve found the travelers you prophesized about.”

  “Where?” Mei’s tone rose in excitement.

  “My team observed them heading south on the G1, approximately twenty miles from Harbin.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Fifteen. They’re on horseback and headed for Shenyang.”

  Bai sat forward in the recliner. “Have the Unbelievers found them?”

  The scout averted his gaze. “I’m afraid so, Mistress. We detected a few of them trailing the travelers, keeping their distance and watching them. As of when I left to report to you, the Unbelievers had not made contact.”

  Mei became agitated. “We can’t let that happen.”

  “It won’t.” The scout again made eye contact with the women. “I told the rest of my team to continue tracking the travelers and to keep their distance, but, if the Unbelievers attempted to make contact, stop them. I hope I did not overstep my boundaries.”

  Mei strolled over and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing. Thank you.”

  “We must not let the Unbelievers get to the travelers before we do,” said Bai in her mesmerizing yet unsettling voice.

  “I’ll make certain of that, Mistress. You can rely on me.”

  “I know I can.” Bai leaned back in her chair and rested.

  Mei ushered the scout outside. “Go back to your team and continue what you’re doing. Send someone here to report every morning, or if they change course.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” The scout raced off.

  Mei could not believe how events were playing out. Bai had predicted the arrival of the travelers and, even though many doubted her words, they had shown up. Plans had already been developed for this and any contingency resulting from their arrival. The camp would be broken down within an hour and would head north. Mei needed to meet the travelers and let events take their course for the glory of the Promised Land.

  Chapter Nine

  The next three days passed slowly and without incident, which Jason appreciated. All along the G1, they witnessed the aftermath of the devastating EMP. Thousands of vehicles had been left along the highway, each where they were driving when the pulse hit. Most had their doors and trunks open and had been rummaged through, either by the owners taking items of value or by survivors searching for anything salvageable. On the second day, they had come upon an electric train half a mile distant that had stopped on the tracks. Jason did not bother checking it out for he knew it had been ransacked long ago. Occasionally, they came upon a partially-clothed skeleton either seated in a vehicle or collapsed on the highway, the person it belonged to having died and been picked clean by animals.

  What Jason did not see were signs that the Demon Spawn had made it this far north. Not that he had a desire to waste any of his resources battling all the way to Shenyang, but after almost a year of the portals being open, he anticipated some demons should have wandered this far. The flesh eaters from Paris had made it as far as Normandy, and those from Moscow had traveled as far as Minsk, yet his team had yet to come across anything unusual. Jason had not even detected a hum of a demonic presence since arriving in Harbin. The lack of Demon Spawn bothered him. The fact they had not traveled this far north made him wonder if the portal was near Shenyang. No one had confirmed its location. For all he knew, it could be hundreds of miles away in Shanghai or Shenzhen. He prayed he wasn’t leading his team on a wild goose chase that would waste time and, most probably, lives while the portal sat somewhere else, spewing forth demons.

  On the fourth night out of Harbin, they established camp at a small village along the banks of the Songhua River halfway to Changchun. There were only two dozen houses in town, so Jason picked one with a fenced in yard where the horses could graze. Sook-kyoung and Vicky made certain the animals were settled while the others set up in the accompanying residence. Ian discovered a bag of rice and a box of noodles hidden away in the top cupboard of the kitchen, which meant tonight they were spared another round of Russian MREs. The Purgatoriati joined them, for conversation rather than food, which over time solidified the bond between the two groups. Jason appreciated that, both for the camaraderie it generated and because it kept him from having to discuss difficult topics. Jeanette had barely spoken to him since their argument three nights ago and, when she did, she acted cold and angry. Nor had he a chance to speak with Sasha about what had happened at Lake Baikal because Father Belsario always intervened, like an overprotective father trying to keep his daughter away from the kid with the bad reputation. Jason reasoned that if he could not talk to Jeanette or Sasha, at least he avoided uncomfortable conversations.

  Ian ruined that.

  “Am I the only one who finds it odd that we’ve been heading for Shenyang for four days and have yet to come across any Demon Spawn?”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” said Ustagov. “Flesh eaters spread for hundreds of miles from the portal in Moscow, yet we haven’t spotted a single one.”

  “We haven’t even come across a grumpy panda,” added Slava, earning some subdued laughs from the group.

  “What gives?” Antoine asked.

  Father Belsario’s features crinkled into his usual frown. “We have to consider the possibility that we’re nowhere near the portal.”

  The others stared at him, their eyes ranging from surprise to disbelief to anger.

  “You can’t be serious,” said Vicky. “You mean we’ve come all this way for nothing?”

  Father Belsario began to speak when Jason cut in. “He didn’t say we’ve come all this way for nothing. He said we must consider the possibility that the portal isn’t nearby. Svetlana said rumors reported it to be somewhere between Harbin and Shenyang.”

  Ustagov shrugged. “That’s true. We’ve been operating on an assumption.”

  “We also have to consider that the por
tal might not be in China at all,” Jason added. Several of his team began talking at once. He held up his hand to stop them. “We’ll keep heading south until we either stumble upon the portal or find someone who can give us more accurate intelligence.”

  Sasha tried to change the mood. “We must be on the right track. Why would this whole region be abandoned if there wasn’t something nearby the locals wanted to get away from?”

  “Maybe there’s something out there more dangerous than Demon Spawn,” replied Antoine.

  Jason felt the group’s mood drop.

  “Let’s change the subject.” Ustagov leaned toward Sasha. “I have a question I’ve been anxious to ask, although it might be inappropriate.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t ask it,” warned Father Belsario in a stern voice.

  The doctor either did not hear or ignored the cleric. “From a scientific perspective, I’d like to know what you experienced back at Lake Baikal when you passed through the portal.”

  Sasha lowered her gaze.

  “I shouldn’t have asked,” said Ustagov. “You don’t have to answer.”

  “I don’t mind.” Sasha lifted her head. Her eyes were cold and distant. “I never felt anything so excruciating, and I fell to my death from the bell tower of Notre Dame. Because of the train’s speed, it happened instantaneously; for me it felt like seconds. I didn’t pass through the portal. I disintegrated against it. Or crumbled, or broke apart… I’m not sure how to describe it. Everything that touched the surface ceased to exist. I felt it first in my hands and arms. They seared away. I cried out from the agony, then my mouth and face were gone. I remember mentally screaming at the top of my lungs, yet the screams echoed silently in my throat. Finally, my brain touched the surface and the torment ended.” Sasha paused to take a deep breath. “I woke up in Purgatory. Jonah and Gabriel were waiting for me and told me I had to get ready to come back to Earth. After a long wait, here I am.”