“Hey!” A girl ran up to them. She smelled scared too. But the scent was much deeper on her, sunken into her skin. She’d been scared for quite some time. She seemed to know Manny, and he definitely knew her.

“Sasha,” Manny said, “I’m sorry. I just needed to…” he paused, shook his head, and then put a hand on Roland’s shoulder. “This is my comrade, Martyr Aaron. We fled here together, once the SDF retreated from Farmer’s Branch. Aaron, this is Sasha.”

“It’s good to meet you, Martyr Aaron,” she said, and flashed him an anxious smile. “I’m so glad God’s grace has brought us all together.”

“Oh yeah,” Roland said in his most convincing voice, “God’s so good. I’m really, just–” he gestured toward the gallows, “I’m psyched to see this.”

A look crossed over her face. Disgust, mixed with building anxiety. She was dressed to play the part of the Good Christian Woman; her hair done up in a tasteful bun, her face unadorned by makeup, her sleeves long, and her clothing baggy. But her scent didn’t lie. It suggested she was pretty far from all-in on this whole “Heavenly Kingdom” thing.

“You’re not excited to see God’s justice?” Roland asked.

The young woman frowned and shook her head.

“I understand the necessity of such bru…of such extreme measures. But I don’t have to like it. Manny, do you–”

She started to ask Manny something, but the young man broke off from their little group and darted forward toward the gallows.

“Oh!” Sasha said, in surprise.

“I’ll…go check on him,” Roland said. “It’s probably best if you wait here, eh?”

She looked confused, but she nodded. Roland followed behind Manny and caught up to him about four people deep into the growing crowd around the scaffold. The fixer’s eyes were locked on one of the SDF prisoners, a middle-aged man with a prominent black mustache and a look of courageous resignation in his brown eyes. He stood in the middle of the gallows, calm as a stone in the ocean, while one of the Martyr’s fitted a noose around his neck.

“Manny,” Roland said.

“That’s Mr. Peron,” Manny said.

“Someone you know, then?”

Manny swallowed and nodded his head. Tears threatened at the corners of his watery eyes. Roland felt like it would probably be a good idea to get the kid away from the gallows before he did something stupid. Roland’s hindbrain helpfully informed him that there were only around sixty armed men in the whole square. But he also knew there were one-hundred-eighty-three armed men within a mile of their current position. If shit started now it wouldn’t end for a while. Roland put a hand on Manny’s shoulder.

“We have to do something,” Manny said.