by E A Lake
"The scout told me more than a dozen, maybe as many as 20."
Finally, good news. Maybe we'd win after all, regardless of what Charolette prognosticated.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-ONE
I stood in the road, rubbing my forehead. Ed and his “advanced team” shook hands, exchanged hugs and thanked God for their safe arrival. I had other thoughts.
"I count four, Ed," I spewed, pulling him aside. "What the hell kind of army are we getting?"
"Patience, boy; patience."
"I'm out of that particular commodity, Ed. I need to see some results on your end," I ranted on. "I've lived up to my end of the bargain, it's time you do the same."
He grinned. Oh, this was going to be good. "Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."
Clever, so clever. As if I'd expected more.
"Yeah, but Pimento can be wiped out in an hour." I turned to find my next victim.
"Petri!" I shouted. "This is four people. What happened to the others?"
He shrugged and maintained his distance; a wise decision on his part. "All I can tell you is Rufus said he saw about 20 riders. Maybe some weren't with this group."
I began to tremble. Rufus was about 100 years old and blind didn't begin to describe his vision, or lack thereof. Why we were using him as a scout was beyond me.
I grabbed the young man by an arm and pulled him away from the office. "Go see if anyone else saw anything. Like maybe where all those other riders went."
He ran off, happy as usual. "Got it, boss. Back in a jiffy."
I watched him disappear around a corner and shook my head. We had a dozen or so scouts on duty at any one time lately. Ever since the shootings had occurred, I’d insisted we increase our security. At that moment, I was beginning to doubt any of the chosen lot were capable of doing what had been assigned to them.
I turned back and wandered closer to Ed as he and two men in nice attire spoke in low tones. Listening closely, I thought I heard one of them say something like 407.
Ed noticed me and waved me over. "Quinn, I'd like you to meet these two fine men. This is Tim and Tom; they're associate pastors for my church up in Terre Haute."
Oh sure, Tim and Tom, identical twin brothers to boot. And how nice they were associate pastors. I was expecting people with military experience. Perhaps Colonel Tim and Major Tom.
"Nice to meet you both," I said, nodding at the pair. They were identical all the way down to the stupid blond beards without mustaches. "Ed, can I talk to you for a moment...privately?"
He excused himself and I walked him over some 20 feet away from the brothers.
"Pastors?" I asked warily.
"Associate pastors."
"Either of them have any military experience?"
Ed looked baffled at that one. "Not that I'm aware of, but I can't say for sure. But trust me when I say they are great leaders of men."
"Perfect," I muttered, glancing at Ed's worn brown boots. "Do we have better help than this coming? Perhaps someone who knows their way around a battlefield like we're about to wander into?"
Ed nodded and smiled broadly. "This is just my advance team, son. The bulk of the people are on foot, about an hour away still. You'll have your army."
Good, maybe something decent could come out of what appeared to be a first-class mess.
"Did I hear one of them say something about 407 people?" I continued. "I mean, that's a good start and all..."
My words trailed off as Ed shook his head. "No one said anything about 407." My father continued to smile.
Holy crap; were there 1,407 people coming? If that was it, we had the upper hand.
"Forty-seven, thus far," Ed added, still smiling. Though why he maintained that expression was beyond me.
"Forty...seven," I stuttered. I must have heard him wrong.
"There'll be a few extra," Ed replied proudly. "But the people coming are the best followers I have. They'll be quite a force."
My head slumped forward. The only force they'd be was slowing down Shaklin's hail of gunfire when it entered their bodies.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-TWO
I stared at my father, my mouth agape. We were in trouble, big trouble. Only he didn't somehow fathom how deep the pile of shit was that we were about to wander into.
"Ed," I moaned, rubbing my eyes. "We need more than 47 people. You want me to show up to this meeting without guns, and I get it. But a few more than 50 of us against Shaklin's forces won't last long. You promised me thousands. Where are they?"
"Faith, son," he replied calmly, as though he knew something I didn't. "A man must have faith. And I warned you there'd be less than a thousand."
"Why?" I asked, tears filling my eyes. "Why are you screwing me over like this?"
He held up his right index finger to the sky. "I have a plan. A great and glorious plan. One that will turn Tony Shaklin from his evil ways."
I shook my head, doubting whatever was coming next was anything but a load of crap. That was my father's specialty, after all.
He had a plan alright. Though he tried to sell it as a great plan, I found it summed up easily in two simple words: it sucked!
"You're kidding, right?" I said as I took a spot on a nearby bench.
"Serious as a heart attack," he replied, confidently. "This will work."
We were going to ride more than 15 miles to meet a cruel man and when we arrived, Ed would dispense his troops. Once in place before us, 51 people would kneel and pray for Tony Shaklin's soul. Right there in the road, right before God and my worst enemy on Earth.
"No guns is bad enough," I said, still trying to figure out when my father lost the last of his mind. "Fifty-plus people that Shaklin can just ride around makes bad worse. He'll just take whatever he wants. Not that I'm anywhere near convincing Charolette to ride with us."
"She has nothing to fear," my father replied. "None of us have anything to fear. The power of prayer conquers all!"
"Even bullets?" I recanted with a nervous laugh. "I don't think so, Dad. We'll either all be dead by the end of this or made out to be the fools we truly are. It'll be a long ride back after that; if we're even alive."
He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look into his crazed eyes. "Believe, son. For once in your life, believe."
I'm not sure that Jesus even had the faith that Ed possessed. And if he did, well, that man was crazy, too.
"People's lives are at stake here, Ed. I think you're forgetting that. Chloe, Avellyn, your own daughter. Charolette, Morgan...the list goes on. Hell, you're even putting our lives at risk here."
"I fear nothing!" he shouted, pointing at the sky again. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."
I quit listening at that point. Mostly because my own father was nuts. And now he'd proven it to me for certain.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-THREE
Morgan's eyes shot open as I told her my father's plan. The reaction was exactly as I thought it would be. When her head began to shake back and forth, I was pretty sure what her next words would be.
"We'll be slaughtered," she whispered. Since we'd huddled in a corner of the kitchen and the rest of our housemates were in the living room chatting, she didn't need to keep her voice as low as she had. But I suppose the shock of it all tempered her reply.
"In about 30 seconds once Shaklin sees we don't have any weapons," I replied.
I actually wondered if we'd last that long. It would probably be, "Ha, no guns, Quinn. Bang, bang, bang; now where's all my property?"
"I thought maybe you could probe his mind a little bit," I added, noticing her horror at that suggestion. I reached for her hands. "He likes you, Morgan. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."
"Maybe if you didn't feel like you needed to butt heads with him on every last thing," she replied sweetly, "maybe he might actually listen to you for a change."
What a load of crap. My parents had been at our home long enough for her to get a good dose of bat-shit c
razy. But she'd been different the whole visit. Almost passive and sweet, way too sweet for a fireball like herself.
"Why are you being so nice to them?" I asked. "You wait on them hand and foot, take time to try and include my stupid aunt in all your activities. What gives?"
For a second, I thought she was going to slap me. Had I really said something wrong? I didn't think so.
"I want them to like me," she replied softly. "Since we don't have any idea where my parents are now, it might be nice to have a decent relationship with yours."
"You want them..." I pointed at the living room. "That brunch of crazies, to like you." She nodded. "Why would you want that? I want them gone the minute we solve this problem. Or right after Shaklin kills me."
"Quinn," she pled with tears in her eyes. "I think family is important. It's all we have left in this upside-down world. We need family."
I pointed at my chest, confused. "My family? Are you nuts? Have you had a gallon of whatever Kool-Aid they're passing out?"
I shook my head and turned to leave. Morgan grabbed my arms and spun me back to face her.
"Quinn, please."
"Ed thinks he's the voice of God, Morgan. He was a bitter trucker in his former life and God found him, so he claims. My mother, bless her demented soul, believes him. She thinks he could walk across Lake Michigan if he chose to. My aunt is either stoned or bitter, trying to tell everyone everything they're doing wrong. You want that for your family? Are you as nuts as them, really?"
She held up her hands in an attempt to slow me down. Good luck with that, lady.
"So they're a little quirky."
It was my turn for my eyes pop out of my head. "A little quirky? Hell, they make the Manson family look normal. I don't think quirky comes close to describing them."
She waved her hands as though I were the crazy one in the room.
"I'm going to have Dad come in here and you and me and him can talk about his plan, okay?"
"And now you're calling him Dad?" I griped. "How quaint."
"He asked me to, Quinn. Can you just try and be nice for the next 10 minutes, please?"
Sure, I could play nice. But I bet Ed wouldn't. And if he pushed just the right buttons maybe, just maybe, the Morgan I knew and loved would rise from the dead and then we'd might actually get somewhere with my father, God's vessel for mankind.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-FOUR
Morgan and Ed sat at the table as I paced behind them. Showing just how loving she could be, my wife had taken my father's hands in hers.
"Dad," she said sweetly, which made the old coot smile. "I wanted to talk to you about your plan that Quinn just told me about. Is that okay with you?"
He nodded, still smiling nicely. "We're all family, Morgan. We have no secrets and everything is open for discussion."
Ha! That was a lie and we all knew it. Well, I knew it. One thing that hadn't been left in the old world was Ed's stubbornness when it came to compromise. Nope, once he had something set in his mind, it was done.
"I'm worried," Morgan continued in the most compassionate tone I'd ever heard her use. "And I'm mostly worried for your safety."
And another big fat lie. The thing she should have been worried about the most was what Shaklin was going to do with her once we were all dead and she'd been hauled back to his farm in chains.
"That is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever told me," Ed replied, nearly in tears. "I'm so deeply touched, I'm not even sure how to respond."
Watch it, darling. He was setting his trap.
"Well, that's how much I love you, Dad." God she was good at laying it on thick. I doubted it was getting anywhere though.
"And that's how much God loves all of his people." Yep; here comes the sermon.
"I think we should leave God out of this for the time being perhaps," Morgan replied, not quite as sweetly as before.
"I noticed that when we pray, Morgan, you close your eyes and bow your head but never say the words." Oh, please Ed, please, keep pushing. For the love of your God, please keep pushing.
"Well, I've never been much for–"
"God sees all, you know," he lectured, which I loved. "He saw you in your poisonous lair when you laid with my son in sin. He saw your evil ways when you undoubtedly drank and danced with the devil in college. He continues to see your unrepentant life here in Pimento; not praying aloud, not attending church at all, most likely harboring unwarranted loathing and jealousy of others."
Morgan's lips twisted left, then right. Her former smile was nowhere to be found.
"If you'll lay yourself on the altar of God and publicly confess your sins and beg for his mercy, all will be forgiven and you will be made new!" For some reason, Ed believed that by standing, shouting and thrusting his right hand skyward, he might actually convince my wife he was right. Or, more likely and probably not what he thought might happen, he'd piss her off so far that he'd get a dose of the Morgan I loved and cherished.
"Ed...Dad," she replied, trying so hard to maintain her composure. "We need to discuss this plan."
"You need to save yourself from a life of sin, Morgan Reynolds!" His shouting brought a few "Amens" from the living room, most likely from Mom. "Cleanse your soul of your evil, vile, repulsive life. Come and worship God as he rightly deserves. I will help take you to the promised land. Join my church and you will be saved completely. Even though you don't deserve any of God's love, he will greet you with open arms, as impure as you are."
And blast off. Morgan's lips tightened and her hands squeezed into tiny balls as she shot to her feet. Ed was about to get a different dose of religion alright, one I called reality.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-FIVE
"That's going to be mighty difficult!" Morgan screamed. "You aren't going to be bringing anyone to God, Ed; because you're gonna be dead. And do you know why?"
For some reason, my father looked confused, though I didn't think he was that stupid. I had explained this all to him in detail.
"Because you're too stupid to realize that Tony Shaklin is going to kill you when you stand in front of him, unarmed like only an idiot would be."
"God will protect us, Morgan."
She grabbed his collar and shook him severely. Her face was so red, I was almost worried she might have a stroke.
"There's a name for God-fearing people like you, Ed," she shrieked.
"Stupid," I added in a flippant tone.
"No," Morgan seethed my direction. "They're called martyrs. And they're called that because they die thinking God will protect them. But think about it; they're dead. So what good did that do?"
"I would give up my life for my Lord," Ed said in a sing-song voice. "Gladly, I will."
"But I won't!" Morgan screamed, shaking him harder. "And what about Belinda? She has a two-week life expectancy once she's given to Winston Cutler. And if Charolette ends up going in her place, it'll be less because Shaklin will just hang her."
"Morgan..." Ed attempted to interrupt.
"I'm not done yet. Do you know what's going to happen to me when I get hauled back there?"
Ed shook his reply, nowhere near as sure of himself as before.
"He's gonna strip me bare and tie me to a post. Then he's gonna whip my back until it has no skin left and then he'll do the same to my ass and the backs of my legs. When he's done, if I'm still alive, he'll tie me to a tree facing him and he'll do the same to my front side. I hope I die within a minute or two of it starting, because I've seen people stay alive too long at his hand...and it ain't pretty when he gets done with you."
His expression was nowhere near as shocked as I had expected it to be, but he wasn't spouting any God stuff any longer. I think Morgan might have gotten her point across.
"What would you have me do?" he asked as Morgan released his collar and gently grasped his shoulders.
"We need people and we need guns," she replied softer. "That's what we need."
Ed's head shook. "No guns."
&n
bsp; "Then we need a shitload of people, Dad. And we need them as soon as possible, okay?"
Only after a long pause did he finally nod. "I'll have to see what I can do."
Well, it wasn't much, but Morgan had made more progress with the stubborn man in five minutes than I had made in forty-some years.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-SIX
The next morning, Morgan and I ganged up on Charolette again, trapping her by the kitchen sink as she cleaned the breakfast dishes. My wife had done so well on my father that I figured since she was back to her old self, she could help change Charolette's mind, too.
I knew, no – we knew, the waif wouldn't be as easily swayed as Ed had been, but we were ready. We'd stayed up half the night discussing various options. When Morgan snapped her fingers and shot me a somewhat evil grin, I knew we were ready, though she never told me what her exact approach would be.
"You need to go, Charolette," Morgan began, getting right to the point. "There's no options here. You have to ride with us to Shaklin's."
The young woman never even bothered to look up from the dishes and simply shook her head. "I'm not going and you can't make me."
Morgan moved closer to the counter so Charolette couldn't ignore her as easily. "It wasn't a question on my part; it was a statement. So wrap your silly little mind around the reality that has to happen."
"Robert won't be going, I'm told," she replied, scrubbing at a pot like she was removing two layers of rust. My mother's sausage gravy did set up like cement if it was left to sit too long.
"Get serious, Charolette," Morgan barked. "If you don't go, we'll have to fight Shaklin here. And we don't want that to happen since we don't plan on faring well in an all-out war."
Charolette spun, tapping her lips with a soapy finger. "Explain to me why a person would want to join a group of others that show up for something without guns? Quinn promised his father that we wouldn't bear arms. So how exactly is anyone going to stop Shaklin from just taking me right then and there?"
