Archer motioned to the men holding Quinn, and they shoved him across the pile of brush and branches to a clear place before the vertical post. In a few quick movements, they bound him to it with the rope, wrapping his arms tight to his body and knotting it on the opposite side. When he was bound, they moved away to join their loved ones, lighting candles as they turned back to watch. Archer stepped closer, his deep-set eyes dancing, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“The acetic acid was a nice touch, don’t you think?” Archer whispered, swirling the cup around in front of Quinn’s face. “Pure inspiration.” Quinn tried not to tremble and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Quinn, for your sacrifice. I know it doesn’t mean a lot, but I really do appreciate it.”
“Fuck you,” Quinn said, staring into Archer’s eyes. Archer shrugged and stepped back before placing the silver cup on the ground. He grasped the open gas can in one hand and began to douse the branches near Quinn’s feet. With a toss, Archer sloshed some gas on the ropes binding him. The smell was overwhelming and Quinn gagged, the fumes in his nose and throat. His head floated above his body and he coughed, blinking away the tears that flooded his eyes.
It was almost here.
The pain was going to be immense. Beyond anything he’d ever felt before. How long after the flames reached him would it take to pass out? Seconds? Minutes? He shuddered and a sob escaped him. The cries of the mob rose as Archer emptied the last of the can and tossed it away. The minister accepted a long, black candle from a woman in the crowd and turned back to him.
“You came to destroy our home, our world, our faith. You have been defeated, demon, cast out by the righteous hand of God and now destroyed by his eternal servants of salvation.” Archer moved forward, the candle flame licking at the air.
Quinn tipped his head back, found the stars above.
They’ll be waiting when it’s over. I’ll be home again.
He tried to keep his focus upward and away from everything around him, but his eyes flitted down to Archer as he stopped at the edge of the pyre.
Archer winked and lowered the candle.
There was a buzzing sound and then a wet thock as Archer’s throat exploded in a spray of blood and bone.
Archer’s mouth dropped open, and he let the candle fall to the ground. It fluttered and went out as it hit the gravel. There was a silence, fathoms deep, and then a woman screamed.
Archer’s knees gave and he fell, his head tipping back to expose the open wound at his throat. It was wide and gushing blood. He brought a hand up as if to stanch it, but let it fall away. His eyes found Quinn’s, such disbelief there, and then he flopped forward onto his stomach.
Gunshots popped from the far side of the fence, and a guard near the gate fell clutching his shoulder. The congregation became a stampede of yelling people. Most ran toward the church, their cries trailing behind them as they left the circle of light. Candles fell and winked out. There was more gunfire, and Quinn squinted, trying to make out the shooter. A man with a shotgun pumped round after round into the darkness as he walked calmly toward the fence, his barrel spitting three feet of flame. He fired his last shot and waited, shoulders back, stance ready.
A muzzle flash came from twenty feet away, and his head snapped to the side, a chunk of skull spinning away like a hair-covered Frisbee. A black figure raced out of the darkness, an AR-15 swinging back and forth. There was something familiar about how the person moved.
One of the smaller fires flared, and Alice’s white face turned in his direction.
“Oh my God,” Quinn said as she neared. She wore black cargo pants, a black long-sleeve t-shirt, and black hiking boots. Alice swung her rifle around the yard once more and then leapt over the gas-soaked bramble.
“Hey. You look surprised to see me,” she said, moving past him to the back of the post. He felt a tug on the rope binding him as she began to work at the knot.
“I…I can’t…” Quinn said.