Chapter 28

The next morning...

“Madame Forewoman, has the jury reached a verdict?” I turned to the forewoman, who happened to be the former Sunday School teacher and vice-principal to most of the accused.

“We have, Your Honor,” Melinda Cutter, the forewoman, showing all of her fifty-seven years through her wrinkles and laugh lines, informed me.

“Let the defendants stand and face the court,” I ordered the Twin Lakes Eleven, “Madame Forewoman, what find you?”

“We, the jury, in the above and titled action, find each of the defendants guilty as charged on all counts, including murder, terrorism, arson, rape, aggravated assault, armed robbery, burglary, banditry, battery, mayhem, kidnapping, false imprisonment, and torture. We recommend the utmost severity rather than leniency in sentencing to the court,” came the harsh judgment of the neighbors and lifelong peers of the accused.

“Very well, then. This is simple enough. I, in my capacity as trial judge for this special court of justice, hereby sentence all of you to death by firing squad. Mayor Arliss, select a detachment of your citizens to carry out the sentence as immediately as possible. In the meantime, each of the accused are to be held without bail in the city jail pending execution. May God have mercy on your souls. Take them away,” I added that last bit, mostly as a reminder to God that I figured out why he sent me there.

“I know why you did that. You want to make sure that the residents here get our hands dirty here, in case we have regrets later. Don’t worry, I understand. I doubt that any of us will have any second thoughts, even I. It was necessary. The men here had to die. They were criminals, bandits, common brigands posing as militia. Outlaws, nothing else. You’re trying to help set this town back on its feet, with some semblance of law and order. Fair enough. I appreciate that. I’ll need to handpick a sheriff or marshal or constable or something to help enforce what laws we have. Thank you again for that.

“Tell me, those ladies with you ... are they your wives or someone else’s? I’m just not sure about the family dynamics of your caravan or clan or tribe or whatever. Would you care to elaborate, because more than a few ladies and gents here are curious about some members as to, well, marriage and other prospects,” Emma intimated to me now with a conspiratorial tone.

“We’re a group marriage. Every man here is married to every woman here, every woman to each other, and every man to each other as well. However, given the way that we’ve shed some folks along the way, something that God personally warned me about, I wouldn’t rule out some fellas staying behind. Tara in particular gave us all a gift, I must tell you.

“It’s a condition that makes delays and possibly reverses aging, renders one immune to STDs, makes one more fertile, causes promiscuity, and turns every person affected by it bisexual or omnisexual or pansexual or whatever. Unprotected sex with any member of my group will transmit this condition to any sexual partners of us, and then to their sexual partners in turn. Well, if unprotected, that is. It’s just how it is,” I answered, causing Emma to pull me aside.

Minutes later, I was balls deep inside the Mayor of Twin Lakes, my cock throbbing and pulsing as she moved her hips with remarkable vigor. Then again, she was fifty-one, not seventy-one. If there was any chance of restoring fertility, and I wouldn’t rule that out, there was a risk that I could put my spawn inside a woman that I had to leave behind. Then I reminded myself not to worry about that kind of thing. God basically said that my seed should be spread as far as it could be. At least this way, she wouldn’t be the same ever again. She would have Tara’s “condition” or disorder or whatever one wished to call it for the rest of her natural life.