Chapter 3 - The Right Hand of God

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Sam scrambled across rocks exposed by the falling tide. The small rowboat she had weighted down with boulders was just visible. For a while, she thought her means of escape had been discovered, but it was greed that drove the actions of the officials of New Destiny. It was always a risk having some clandestine way of getting out of place – if it was discovered that was. It could lead a person to conclude that they were dealing with somebody who wasn't entirely trustworthy. If somebody had been looking closely enough, they might have seen that the pile of rocks disguised the form of a small aluminium rowboat and question why somebody would want to weigh down a rowboat so that it was only revealed at low tide. Clearly somebody who couldn't be trusted. Not an unreasonable assumption. But then neither was it an unreasonable assumption on Sam's part that she might end up being the one betrayed - after all, it had happened countless times already in her short life.

The screams from far to her rear suggested that the battle would soon be at an end. The gunfire had stopped before she had reached the end of the island and the sound of metal against metal was now too infrequent to suggest that there was any form of spirited defence. Perhaps the townspeople have managed to thwart the crossing? They outnumber the clan more than three to one, perhaps much more. Perhaps, but unlikely. It was a fleeting thought on Sam's part.

"No point wasting time." Sam murmured to herself as she used an oar which had been wedged beneath the hull to heave the boat over on its side. Its contents spilled out with a series of dull thuds and splashes as the rock found mud and water alike.

"I couldn't agree more."

The cocking of a pistol prevented Sam from spinning round with hastily retrieved daggers in hand. She turned slowly to meet her accuser. "Well, this is a turn up for the books. Priests who carry guns."

"Who said we were priests?" The young woman replied as she adjusted her aim from Sam's torso to her face.

"Take it." Sam said as she motioned with her head to the boat and purposely took a slow step to the side to distance herself from the only means of escape.

"Get in." The woman said as she continued to correct her aim with Sam's every movement. Sam raised an eyebrow quizzically but made for the boat as instructed. "Push it into open water, get in and move towards the bow."

Sam did as she was instructed in the pale moonlight. The sound of muffled splashes from her movement echoing across the now silent bay; if the townspeople had won this encounter, there were no shouts of joy.

The woman's companion steadied the boat so that she could step in and continue to devote all her attention on where her gun was aimed, before stepping in himself.

"Pick up the oars and start rowing." The young woman commanded.

"Fuck off!" Sam replied without hesitation as she slumped back towards the bow. "Row it yourself."

A shot echoed out across the bay. A shot which left Sam's ear ringing and searing with pain as blood started to flow down the side of her face.

"That was foolish." Sam snarled angrily as she lurched forward and found the barrel of the gun back between her eyes as it was cocked again.

"Your threats are meaningless. You do not scare me." The woman replied coldly. "Now pick up the oars and start rowing."

"I didn't mean me." Sam smirked as she picked up the oars and placed them into their housing. "I meant them." She motioned with her head back towards the small island.

The woman smiled. "What sort of a fool do you take me for? Start rowing."

"Whatever you say." Sam replied mockingly. "Just don't say that I didn't warn you."

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