Reign of Evil

He launched his first Black Hornet by sitting it on the ground and remotely controlling the minute helicopter blades, enabling it to rise. It was hard not to control the UAV while looking at it. Instead, he forced himself to use the small monitor, forcing himself to become the Black Hornet and shrinking his universe to what could be viewed by the nose-cone camera.

Tunnel-visioning in, he found himself rising, then moving forward. White snowflakes fell like down feathers. He could feel a slight crosswind and had to adjust by turning into it. The result of this was that in order to travel in a straight line, he’d have to aim the camera slightly left of his target. He found it tremendously difficult to do that and stay online. Thankfully, the wind subsided and he was able to point his nose at his goal. The downside of having a MUAV was that wind was its kryptonite.

He negotiated the Black Hornet through tree branches, which were already beginning to be covered in the Christmas Eve snow. He passed over a backyard occupied by a dog staring woefully into a warm-lit living room where a family was huddled around a cozy television. Then an empty lot. Then the compound.

He rose to an elevation of fifty meters so he could see the whole area. The backyard was enclosed by a wall. People were outside around several bonfires. Judging by the people, the wall was ten or twelve feet high—high enough to hide activity from outside view, especially since there were empty lots on either side. It seemed as if every light was on inside the home, creating a nimbus of warm orange light. In addition to the bonfires, four floodlights mounted on poles in the four corners of the wall shone inward.

He counted twenty-seven persons in the backyard. Walker moved the Black Hornet closer to resolve the images of the people. The wind began to pick up and he found his ability to focus severely constrained. He fought to keep the MUAV still for several minutes, but to no avail. He cursed and heard YaYa swearing beside him too as he tried to control his own MUAV.

“I’m going to find a place to put it down,” Walker said.

“What about the corners?” YaYa asked. “We can put them in the protective lee of the poles supporting the floodlights.”

“Good call.”

Walker manipulated the MUAV until it settled on the northwest corner post on the side of the light pole opposite the wind. He adjusted the aim of the camera, then turned off the blades. To anyone looking, the MUAV would just look like a black blob the size of a dragonfly sitting on top of a pole.

“Take the northeast corner.”

YaYa rogered and soon after landing the other MUAV they were looking at a complete feed of the entire backyard. The area was so well lit, their lack of night vision wasn’t going to be an issue.

Now that they were close enough to see the images of the people, what they saw made their eyes go wide.

Trevor leaned in to look. “Are they—”

“Naked. Absolutely.”

“And what the hell is wrong with their faces?”

“I have no… idea.” Walker couldn’t help but bring his hand to his own face and touch his lips with his cold fingers. Where his lips were warm and smooth, the lips of the seven naked women they counted in the backyard were scarred and sewn shut by an inexpert and vicious hand. Other than their lips, their faces were free from any mark and would have been beautiful, had they not been so gaunt. The women’s hollowed-out faces, prominent cheekbones, and bulging eyes made them look like victims of a famine. But once Walker was able to take in the totality of their appearance, he understood what was going on; he just didn’t know why.

“See their rib cages? I bet they don’t weigh even a hundred pounds.”

Trevor’s voice was low and reverential. “They’re being starved.”

Each woman stood beside an outdoor heating element that rose half again as tall as they were. On occasion, a man dressed in a suit would walk by and place his hand on a woman’s crotch or lean down to kiss her breast. The women remained unfazed, their faces blank as if they were in another place.

“They’re stoned. Someone drugged them… thankfully.” YaYa made a fist with his prosthetic hand. “I suddenly want to kill every one of the fuckers who did this.”

“Something tells me we’ll get the chance.” Walker tore his gaze away from the women and regarded the yard. He counted twelve men dressed in expensive suits and cloaks. Servants circulated among them with trays. Three figures were clothed completely in red robes, their faces hidden behind masks, and a conical matching red hat that rose several feet. They looked like scarlet KKK robes. These three were treated with clear deference.

“Wish I could get close enough to hear what they’re saying.” YaYa stared at the scene for a moment, then shook his head. “I still can’t get over the women. I get they’re starving, but how can they survive without water? They have to drink.”