Page 44 of The White Rider
He walked behind me and nudged me with his gun. I really wanted to punch this guy in the face.
“Put your hands on your head and walk. If you weren’t our Savior’s daughter, I would have killed you by now, but I know he can put you on the right path.”
I eye-rolled harder than I’ve ever eye-rolled in my entire life, but I put my hands on my head and let him prod me to their camp.
Level one of killing the Antichrist completed.
Chapter 25
T
he Bubbas had more self-preservation than I did. Word had spread about what went down at the ammunition factory the last time they tried to take me back to Isaiah. They believed me when I said I was alone, because no one was trying to kill them… yet. They weren’t taking any chances like the last group that grabbed me.
They didn’t want me anywhere near them. They kept saying I brought death, and I was unlucky. They didn’t want to hold me in their camp and send word with a messenger. No, these Bubbas wanted to get me to my father as soon as possible so he could cleanse the curse from my soul, and so their people stopped dying. They also thought once my father got his hands on me and turned me into a good little girl, I’d give them intel on the terrorists.
My hands were tied, and they shoved me in the back of a pickup truck. There was a whole Bubba caravan on the way to the White House. Safety in numbers, right? My Horsemen were somehow able to get themselves assigned as my guards and so wound up being sat in the back of the truck with me. When no one was looking, Dice untied my ropes and only made it look like they’d bound my wrists while actually leaving them totally free. Dice wassupertalented with rope, and I wanted to explore all the possibilities that brought with it when we could retire from this whole apocalypse business in Mexico.
I think the only reason the Horsemen got the job was that they volunteered, and no one else wanted it. They were super into the whole cursed theory, and a few of them thought demons possessed me to do such evil things to their people. There were mutterings of Isaiah performing an exorcism on me before it was safe to let me out among the people. I was tryingso hardnot to laugh in their faces.
The caravan finally made it to the White House. Asher pretended to be rough with me as he dragged me out the front and paraded me in front of everyone camped out there. There were men dressed all in black with guns at the front door. Were they Bubbas, or Secret Service?
At any rate, they weren’t fucking around and didn’t let us inside. Two men went inside and made us wait forever before they came back out. When they finally stepped outside again, they had their guns raised.
“Who found her?”
My handpicked, raggedy Bubba stepped forward. He puffed up his hairy chest proudly and looked them right in the eyes.
“I did.”
The men lowered their guns just a little.
“The president wants to see you.”
I knewexactlywhat game we were playing. Isaiah wasn’t stupid. The Horsemen stood out among the Bubbas. They were disguised as much as they could be, but they were just too tall and too muscular to not look like thesuperheroesthey were. The men with guns had been told to be on the lookout for anything suspicious in the men who had captured me. The man I chose was weak and basic in every way.
My father would take one look at him and think he got lucky finding me. The kicker would be whether they let us all inside. These people regarded Isaiah as next to God, but they were nothing to him.
One of the Bubbas stepped forward.
“Someone spotted a flash of pink near our camp. We wereallrisking our lives to find her. He just happened to be the one who caught her. We should all get to see the president.”
The guns were raised again.
“You’ll all stay back and shut the fuck up. The president just wants this one for now. It’s a safety precaution, considering what happened at the cathedral and ammunition factory we can’t be too careful.”
Every single man with us narrowed his eyes at my Bubba.
“You’d better not fuck us over again!”
Did I pick the wrong Bubba to catch me? I needed a team player. One that that would make sure we all got inside. If he took all the credit, we were fucked. Isaiah would go outside to give a speech instead of letting us inside. Aeron would go nuclear and there was then the chance of him escaping. Did I just ruin the apocalypse?
Maybe not. However this Bubba had fucked things over for his friends in the past, it looked like they were willing to make him pay for it this time. And it looked like he knew that for damnsure, too. Maybe he’d be a good little garbage human and give his friends some credit.
He disappeared into the White House, and we were stuck waiting again. I was supposed to be this high-priority prisoner, but no one tried to move me to a secure location. I just stood there, twiddling my thumbs while one of the Secret Service Bubbas kept his gun pointed right at my face.
Nowmy sense of self-preservation was kicking in. Everyone who was camped in the vicinity had crowded on the lawn to stare at me. They all had guns, and many of them believed a demon had possessed me. The only thing stopping them from putting a bullet in my head was my bastard father.
Why hadn’t I picked a better Bubba to catch me?Wasthere a better Bubba in this group? Trying to pick one was like someone hiding your engagement ring in the champagne, and you accidentally swallowing it. It probably cost a fortune, and it means a lot, so you have to fish through turds to get it back. Everyone out here was like cafeteria food turds.
