IX
The odd parade left the city by way of the main highway and turned off onto a
small rise. Preparations at the sandy site had preceded the main event. From her
position atop the cross Zeema had little inkling where she was now being carried
but sensed the arrival as progress slowed and voices became more animated.
With a sudden drop the crucifix unceremoniously crashed into a shallow trench.
The digging roughly fit the dimensions of the upright and crossbeam. Zeema
gasped. Her breath was knocked out as she and the wood fell, then hit.
Fingers supported the back of her head, tilting it up so that she could see
her new surroundings. Stretching before Zeema she could see her own torso and
beyond that, her legs. Bloodied knees almost cleared the trench. The lacerations
brought a flood of memories. Zeema grimaced.
"You no doubt will find the sand is hot Zeema." Julius the Sweet stood behind
the crucifix and marshaled those lining the shallow ditch. At his instruction,
they began to kick sand. "Be sure and take a close look. Those tiny specs you
might see as dirt begins to cover you are actually fire ants. Just imagine, that
is if you decide to live through the night, what other species a bit higher up
on the chain will do when they decide to dig. Perhaps they too may feed on you."
She once more opened her eyes. The fingers continued to prop her head up to
view. Dirt was starting to cover her belly. The unseen voice she recognized as
the one belonging to Julius was right about the ants. They scurried as more dry
earth showered down from the sides of the trench. Zeema could feel them
running..
"Uhm, this really doesn't look good Zeema..."
She recognized the dulcet tones of Ares voice and looked to her left. The
shadow of the god of war loomed high above. Zeema started to answer the vision
when sharp stabs bit her inner thighs. She wildly screamed.
"Well...there is an upside to all of this. Just imagine," Ares said after
Zeema's screams lowered in pitch, "if you were an immortal like me, why, such
treatment might last for an eternity! Being the lowly- and no pun intended here,
given your present state- human that you are, why this torture might not last
much longer in the Grand Scheme of Things. But I suppose Time is all
relative..."
Zeema panted as she gasped for breath and managed to curse Ares. She felt sand
now covering the tops of her knees. No longer were her breasts visible, just
mounds of sand. The fingers holding her head shifted and then she felt her black
hair being brushed. It fanned out from her head. The thorny rose tiara was
removed and more, almost gentle, strokes continued on hair covering the top of
her head. When the brushing stopped, only Zeema's head from her chin up remained
visible above the ground.
No longer needing their support, the fingers behind her head were removed. Sun,
sand and silhouetted figures towering like huge statues were all she could see.
From below ground, Zeema felt more insects crawling into her and biting. A
screech welled up from her underground lungs.
"Oh schucks, is it really that late?" Ares remarked as he stood taller. He bent
back down at the head in the sand surrounded by flowing waves of hair and said,
"Wish I could stay for more fun Zeema, but got to run. Before I do, though, I
must say that your impersonation of a real warrior princess has been a genuine
diversion for me." Ares paused and poised a finger before his lips. "Tell you
what-I'll be sure and put in a good word for you. Okay?"
Zeema again screamed. Her swollen lids opened. Ares was nowhere to be seen, but
she could now make out Julius the Sweet. More ant bites brought further screams.
She had to make a decision and the faster that decision was reached, the better.
She had to capitulate, regardless of what it cost her sense of pride.
"Oh, I'm afraid it's too late for that Zeema." Julius sadly shook his head at
the parched lips below him. He stepped back. "Sorry. Too late to kiss these
boots, but do ask the wolves tonight. Maybe some of them sport a pair, or should
I say two pair?" The others laughed at more of Julius the Sweet's fabled wit.
The Psychomanchia reading warrior princess wannanbe screamed in torment. Her
tears were cries of physical pain. There also were wails of despair. The body
and mind's broken spirit knew that what had happened and what remained to be,
were all caused by the Passions of Zeema.
Finale
