"Side door?" Remo asked the soldiers.
The patrol leader grunted his assent.
Within the Ragnarok compound, Remo and Chiun found a cluster of ugly concrete salt-box structures squatting together about a hundred yards beyond the fence.
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Another building was set apart from the others. It stood alone on a tract of land beyond a section of rolled-up fencing and looked for all the world like a giant, half-buried tin can. Remo could tell by the fresh scars in the earth that the hurricane fence had only recently been extended around this new area.
There was a smaller area corralled off by the isolated building, and Remo could see hundreds of tiny black heads speckled within the pen. Some were butting horns, others were running frantically for reasons that were entirely their own, but most were standing around, sullenly chewing whatever vegetation they could scrape up.
' 'You boys must be on that strict all-goat diet I keep hearing about," Remo commented, nodding across the field toward the pen.
The soldiers didn't respond.
Near the main grouping of structures, a young woman stood patiently waiting, an AR-15 slung across her shoulder as casually as a handbag.
"A reception committee?" Remo said quizzically. He shot a look at Chiun, but found the old Korean distracted.
The Master of Sinanju had raised his nose barely perceptibly and was pulling in delicate puffs of air. He seemed focused on the solitary building beyond the goat pen within the newly constructed fence.
"I'll take them from here," the woman announced when they reached the perimeter buildings.
The men nodded and headed in toward the largest communal building.
"Welcome to Ranch Ragnarok," the woman said
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once the men had left. Her intelligent blue eyes swam behind horn-rimmed glasses.
"I've got to compliment you. This must be the most hospitable concentration camp I've ever been in," Remo said. "Don't you agree, Little Father?"
Chiun ignored him.
"Now, of course you don't really mean that," the girl admonished. But there was a twinkle in her eyes.
"Are you the Clearasil woman?" asked Chiun.
"Hardly," the girl said. "My name is Buffy Brand. I'm an acolyte in the Church of the Absolute and Incontrovertible Truth. Welcome again."
"Care to share this incontrovertible truth with a disbeliever?" prompted Remo.
"You're standing in it, Mr....?"
"Falwell," said Remo, adding, "and I find it hard to believe that a trainload of mortar mix dumped out in the middle of nowhere somehow holds the mystery of creation."
"It's not creation that's a concern to us here at the Truth Church," Buffy explained. "We're looking more toward the other end of the time line. We are preparing for the End Times."
"That anything like halftime?" asked Remo.
"Remo, why prolong this prattling?" Chiun squeaked. "This is not the one you seek. You," he commanded imperiously, pointing to Buffy Brand, "show us the way." His hazel eyes strayed back toward the distant building.
"Who put a knot in your bloomers?" Remo asked.
"This is not the time for insolence," Chiun warned, chopping the air with one long-nailed hand.
Remo accepted the rebuke in silence. "I guess he's
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calling the shots," he said, turning to the girl. "Lay on, MacBuff."
"You are father and son?" Buffy asked once they were hurrying alongside the nearest buildings. Her squeal of excitement when Remo nodded made it sound as if until that moment, she had thought that such a family relationship was only possible in a fairy tale. "How wonderful for you." She searched their faces. "You don't really look much alike, do you?"
"He is adopted," Chiun confided.
"Actually, I adopted him," Remo said, peeved. He was sick of being passed off as some kind of charity case.
"I allow him his delusions," Chiun declared. "For if I did not, he would never listen to me. Not that he heeds well now," he added quickly.
" 'A wise son heareth the doctrine of his father: but he that is a scorner heareth not when he is reproved.' Proverbs, chapter thirteen, verse one," Buffy said.
"Shut up," Remo suggested.
"Let the child speak, Remo," Chiun said. "This one is wise beyond her years."
Buffy blushed. "I'm only quoting," Buffy said, embarrassed. "The Prophetess says anyone can quote. She comes up with wholly original doctrine. She insists that it's as good as gospel, though."
"I'll bet she does," Remo muttered.
Buffy frowned intelligently. "She doesn't seem to know too much about the actual Bible, either."
"That way she can make it up as she goes along," Remo suggested.
"That's not a very nice thing to say," Buffy chided.
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There wasn't the venom one would expect from a religious fanatic, Remo noticed.
"And anyway, she sure as shootin' knew you were coming," Buffy added.
"How did she know that?" Remo wondered.
Buffy shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe Kaspar told her."