The wall behind the desk, and part of the ceiling, was painted with chocolate brown that had once been bright red and moldy green that had once been gray brain matter.
All very disgusting, all very final. And a long time ago. Months, at the very least.
No reanimation.
What made it worse was what the man had written in black ink on his desk blotter:
MAY GOD FORGIVE US FOR WHAT WE HAVE DONE
WE ARE THE HORSEMEN
WE DESERVE TO BURN
There was no signature. There was no need for one.
They stood around the desk.
Nix looked from the writing to the body sprawled in the chair. “That poor man.”
Benny nodded. “What does it mean, though?”
“Watch the hall,” Joe said as he began quickly going through each drawer. He rummaged through the contents, tossing some things onto the floor, ignoring others. Then he found a sheaf of papers that made him stiffen and stare. He cursed softly.
“What is it?” asked Benny.
“I think I found out why Dr. McReady came to this facility.”
He showed the top page to Benny and the girls.
ZABRISKIE POINT BIOLOGICAL EVALUATION AND PRODUCTION STATION UNITED STATES ARMY
“What’s that mean?” asked Benny. “?‘Biological Evaluation and Production’? Is this some kind of lab?”
Joe took the papers back and crumpled them up, his face a mask of disgust.
“This is a monster factory,” he said.
65
BROTHER PETER WATCHED AS TWO of the Red Brothers carried Sister Sun up the slope. Every day the woman seemed to have aged ten years. The cancer that consumed her was a merciless and ravenous thing. It would take her soon. A few days, a week at the most.
In a way, Brother Peter envied her. She would be going into the darkness soon, and he was doomed to live until the work of the Night Church was completed.
The reapers set her down, and one of them produced a small folding stool and supported her as she sat down on it. Peter ordered one of them to fetch water and directed another to erect the portable awning.
They were in a cleft of rock that provided an excellent view of the chain-link fence, the airfield, the row of siren towers, and the hangars on both sides of the miles-long trench. However, from a reverse position, the reapers were invisible inside a bank of deep shadows.
A reaper came trotting into the cleft.
“Beloved of god,” he said to Sister Sun and Brother Peter, “we are ready.”
Brother Peter nodded. “Good. Has there been any sign of the helicopter?”
“No, my brother. I have ten scouts watching for it.”
“Very well.”
“The wind continues to veer,” said the reaper. “Sister Alice thinks it will shift two or three more points, but I ran the math a couple of times. We’re good to go now.”