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all, selected for their beauty, their innocence and their vulnerability from the load of more than two hundred brought in by the Cherrybusters. Just where the air pirates had captured them, none of the Nazis knew or cared. The only thing that mattered was that each girl had what the Nazis called Erziehung eigenschaft-"breeding quality." The purpose for buying the two hundred young women was to eventually match them with the perfect breeding males, impregnate them, and start the new American Aryan race.
    Still, this did not preclude other uses for them.
    The girls were ushered in by heavily armed NS sentries and separated into small groups, based on their age. The last bit of decorum left in the drunken First Governor demanded that the outrageous procession begin with the eighteen year olds. They were forced to walk up to the First Governor, lift their T-shirt or lower their pants, depending on his whim, and then stand mute and still while he fondled each with the grace of a man checking the skin of a sow. Once they passed this first hurdle, they were shoved down along the table, to be grabbed and groped by the other intoxicated guests. While this was going on, a second clutch of frightened girls, these below eighteen, was brought in.
    The party evolved into an orgy just after the first rays of the sunrise filtered into the dining hall. It all began when Itchy passed a small canteen to the First Governor, indicating that he should sip from it. Inside was the mysterious, hallucinogenic drink known as myx. Originating with the Norse invaders who had unwittingly laid open the American East Coast for conquest by the Fourth Reich, the presence of the myx gave the gathering an almost mystical quality.
    Only a few select members of the First Governor's inner circle were allowed a sip of the precious nectar, to the envy of those left out. Soon those who had imbibed became uncontrollable with lust. The lewd period of simply fondling the teenage girls quickly ended as the myx began to take effect on the dozen or so who had ingested it. Within seconds, they had set upon the young women and commenced to engage in every vile act imaginable; all to the utter astonishment and drunken delight of the rest of the guests.
    Even the nefarious Bone and Itchy were amazed at the outburst of lewd behavior by the seemingly proper Fourth Reich officers.
    "These guys are crazy," Itchy whispered to Bone as they watched the opiate, salacious display. "We better watch what we feed them next time."
    37

Chapter Six
Fitz was praying.
    It was the first time in years, but he was on, his knees, reaching underneath his bed, and praying that there was just one more bottle of bad homemade wine hidden back there.
    Sitting across the room from him were the two people he'd rescued from the murderous river. Shivering, wet, confused, they were staring at him-simply awestruck that they were still alive.
    The truth was, Fitz had no idea what had happened out in the raging Wabash.
    One moment they were all drowning. The next, he was carrying them ashore. It had been as simple-and as frightening-as that.
    "Who are you?" the young girl asked him for the tenth time.
    "I'm nobody," Fitz replied, pulling out two empty wine bottles. "I'm just the person who runs the bridge."
    "But you are a priest," the old man said.
    "That makes no difference here," Fitz told them, finally giving up on the search for any vino under his bed.
    He pulled three heavy army blankets out from underneath the bunk and passed two of them to the old man and the young girl. They quickly wrapped each other in the coarse covers and huddled as best they could to get warm.
    "Where were you coming from?" Fitz asked them, wrapping a blanket around his own shivering body and then putting on a tea kettle to boil.
    "We're lost," the old man croaked. "Neither of us can remember where the hell we've been. Where we're from. Or how the hell we got here. I thought we lived in the desert. But it's just been too crazy