by Jay Vielle
“Rolls, chips and dip, all over there for you as well,” said Emery.
The other four stragglers sat down with their friend. Three of them were younger, like the girl. Mark noticed that one was clearly the mother of one of the others by the way they interacted.
“What’s your name?” said Mark to the girl. She was small but athletic-looking, and had straight, bright blonde hair that fell about halfway down her neck.
“I’m Jen Gosling. I’m a grad student at the University. Finishing my Masters in Education. I’m not actually from Emmitsburg. I was visiting my friend, Susan here when the bombs fell. My car wouldn’t start back up, and I couldn’t reach my family down the road in Taneytown, so I just stayed here with them the past few days.
“Hi, I’m Susan,” said a tall, slender, brunette. “This is my mom.”
Mark reached over and politely shook hands with each of the three women.
“Mark Longaberger. I teach at Hunter’s Run. We’ve, uh, partnered up with the church to do, uh, a little outreach,” he said smiling. He glanced over at Emery for approval for his choice of words, and Emery smiled and nodded back.
“I thought you looked familiar. I student-taught there for a while,” said Jen. “Phys. Ed. With Mrs. Eaves. You know her?”
“Yes, I do. She’s at the school right now. A few of us got stuck there also.”
“I’d love to see her. Maybe we can go there after we eat?” she asked.
“Sounds good to me. Emery?”
“We’ll work it all out. For now, enjoy the appetizers. I’m going to check the beef to see how it’s doing.”
Emery took out a large butcher knife and sliced into the beef dead center and pushed the two halves back a bit. It was still a bit red, so he moved to the outer ends and sliced off a piece there. It was pink and dripping with juice.
“The outer parts are ready. Let me slice you some and you can make some sandwiches,” he said.
He cut off a large chunk and placed it onto an electric restaurant-grade meat slicer. As he pushed it through, a giant pile of roast beef began to form on the large serving tray beneath it. Mark thought his stomach was going to explode with anticipation. More and more people began coming up to the tables and chatting some with the first arrivals. Mark sat with Jen, Susan, and Susan’s mother, and for a moment it was like the Cataclysm had never happened. People ate, drank, and laughed aloud. The noise and the smells attracted more and more people, and before long, there were over thirty townspeople sitting at the tables.
A few minutes later, Pablo, Billy, and Oleg pulled back in with the van, and behind them came two vehicles and nearly a dozen more pedestrians. Everyone was gravitating towards the church cookout.
Father Joe came out with a wireless microphone and went over to a panel and flicked on a few switches. As the three men shut the doors of the van and came over to partake in the meal themselves. Father Joe walked out to the center of the gathering with his microphone.
“Good day, everyone. And I mean truly, good day! With the catastrophe, the Cataclysm that took place here last week, we are all lucky to be alive. By now, many of us are realizing that not everyone has been so fortunate. Many of you are still wondering about family members all over the country. Others sadly know only bad news. Today is about rejoicing in our own lives. We are here, and for whatever reason, whatever plan God has for us, he has selected us to begin his work. I say ‘begin,’ not ‘continue,’ because it is a new world that we all face. A world of uncertainty. We are uncertain if our government is up and running. We are uncertain if our previous lifestyles can be retained. We are uncertain if our lives will ever be the same.”
The happy-go-lucky mood turned somber for a moment.
“But one thing we can be certain of, is we have each other. No matter what limits, faults, or let-downs your previous lives or your previous church presented you with, we here at the Church of the Many Blessings want to be the place you come when you are in need. The place you come when you need guidance, a helping hand, a boost, or even just a good meal. We want to be the true Many Blessings of the new world order that will rise from the ashes of what used to be. It doesn’t matter to us where you went to church before. We want to be your present and your future. My name is Father Joseph Clark, and I want to be your pastor. Welcome to the Church of Many Blessings.”
And then the applause began. It was instant and spontaneous. Mark couldn’t ever remember a church clapping like that after a sermon in his recollection, but everyone at the tables stood on their feet and clapped. Mark looked around and noticed he was the only one not standing and clapping. Everyone else was staring at Father Joe and offering him an ovation worthy of political candidate at a rally. Father Joe looked out at his feast and smiled.
“Before you leave, brother Pablo is coming around with pens and information cards for you to fill out. We’d love to be able to reach out to you in any way we can. As our country moves forward, your phones and computers will come back, and when they do, we want to be the first place you call when you’re in need. In the meantime, eat up, get to know our church members, and enjoy yourselves.”
Pablo stopped by every table, said hello, shook hands, and handed each person there a pen with the church’s phone number on it, then handed them an information card for them to fill out.
“The land line to the church survived completely, so feel free to call whenever you need us,” said Pablo.
Mark’s earlier feeling of uneasiness had drained away, and he felt really good about helping create a meal and a community feeling for the people who had come to the church that day. This is very different from the first days after the bombings, he thought to himself. He had seen death, vandalism, theft, and brutality. It had left him scarred, and when the rift came between the Wes Kent faction and the Jake Fisher faction, he had worried the entire time that maybe they had done the wrong thing by pushing Jake out. He had been even more concerned at the religious convictions of the people he was dealing with, and some of the things he heard Wes Kent say. They were subtle, but unnerving remarks about certain kinds of people being more worthy than others. But Billy James, Pablo, Father Joe, and even Emery to a certain extent, had calmed his nerves, and he was certain that what he had helped achieve with this event was more than simply providing people with a meal. He felt part of something more important. He had helped bring people together after a mass tragedy, and that could only be a good thing.
CHAPTER 15
The bus flew up Interstate 81 as Jake and his cohorts began to settle in for the long ride. It would be several hours more. Jake had fueled up again in Lexington. He felt comfortable there, it seemed. That town had provided us with our first taste of normalcy after a crazy week, so the feeling was understandable. Now we were zooming past Harrisonburg and James Madison University as we headed for Interstate 66 East, which would take us into Washington DC.
Nobody was really talking at this point. Several folks were napping. Jada had fallen asleep with her head on Glen Billings, who was snoring. Al and Maureen were snuggling together. Even Estela and Morgan--who seemed to have hit it off pretty quickly--were asleep, with Morgan’s head resting on Estela’s shoulder. I was looking out the windows, trying to make a mental note of everything I saw. There were some towns where everything looked normal, and there were others that looked fairly deserted. We hadn’t seen any devastation yet like we saw in Frederick, but I think both Jake and I were anticipating when the landscape would begin to change.
Before long we saw the turn for I-66 to Front Royal and got in the right lane and started to merge in with that highway. Front Royal was a small, attractive town on the Blue Ridge Parkway. It was near Luray Caverns and Shenandoah National Park. It was off the highway a bit and was a mix of old Virginia hill town and newer, middle class tourist town. Today we would pass it by, but I remember having a small pang of yearning, wishing we could visit it as if we were tourists ourselves. I wondered how long it would be before we could do that kind of thing again.
Suddenly I heard the brakes squeal and felt the bus fishtail slightly. I looked up and Jake was grimacing. The sleeping couples were jarred awake, and Wendy and the Colonel both yelled aloud, “What is it?” I looked out the window and saw two abandoned cars turned sideways across the ramp. Behind and between them was a medium sized tree that had been placed in the middle of the road deliberately. The two cars had not successfully gotten around the tree and there was some damage to each of them in the front. Jake had skidded in without running into them, in what was definitely good reaction time on his part. We all pitched forward into the seats in front of us. Jake looked around at what looked like a scene that was unnatural— perhaps even staged to a certain extent. He voiced his displeasure.
“What the fuck is this?” he shouted out loud. He looked angry.
As soon as the bus stopped, we were surrounded by people. They were mostly male, fairly young--teens and twenties--and each of them was holding a weapon of some kind. I saw more than twenty people and spotted several guns, including one shotgun. Some looked like they were holding Japanese katana swords. A tall one with his face painted with camouflage approached the doors and looked at Jake.
“Open the doors,” he shouted.
“Why?” answered Jake.
“Because if you don’t, we’ll break them down,” he said.
“If you try, I will break your neck,” said Jake.
“If you don’t open the doors and let us in, I will tell my people to open fire on your bus and kill your people,” he said. “So, you think it over. You have ten seconds.”
We all looked at Jake horrified. He had a look of fury on his face.
“Jake?” I asked.
“How many guns you see, Eddie?” he asked.
“A bunch. At least four or five, including a shotgun,” I answered.
“Tommy, can you confirm that?” Jake asked.
“Yes sir. Five. And the shotgun,” said Tommy.
“Shit. We have to let them in,” he said.
Everyone looked around and realized that if there was any chance to fight, Jake would have taken it. His boys looked at each other incredulously.
“Dad, you’re not gonna let ‘em in,” said Vinny.
“No choice, boy,” he said. “They’re armed and we’re not. I’m not going to lose someone to some kind of stupid false bravado pissing contest with no intel. Let’s see what they want. If we get in trouble, an opportunity usually presents itself to take some action at some point. And when it does, we can’t hesitate. But it isn’t now, do you hear me?”
“Do you hear me?” he yelled.
“Yes,” Vinny said, resignedly.
Jake opened the door and the large camouflaged leader beckoned him out.
“Out. All of you. Now,” he said. “And if you try anything, we kill whoever is in front of us.”
Everyone filed out one by one from the bus. The camouflaged leader eyeballed Jake’s sons challengingly. Vinny avoided eye contact, looking forward with an angry sneer on his face, but Tommy stopped and stared back to meet the challenge. The leader turned his head and glanced at a shorter man holding the shotgun and nodded. The man lifted the butt of the gun and slammed it into Tommy’s ear. Tommy hit a knee, clutched his ear and yelled. Jake moved faster than I have ever seen him. He tackled the man just above the knees and drove him ten feet back onto the ground, landing on top of him with his hands on the man’s throat. The man hit with a thud and the shotgun dropped to the ground. Jake started pressing his thumbs into the man’s Adam’s apple and the man made a gurgling noise. The sound of a click behind Jake’s left ear made him freeze.
“Stand down, Marine!” the Colonel yelled. “Stand down!”
“Get off my man or I blow your fucking brains all over him. And he hates brains on his clothes,” said the leader.
Jake froze, and didn’t move for about ten seconds.
“Better do as he says, you fuckin’ jar head. He’ll do it,” said the man beneath him.
“This is not the first time we’ve done this, bud,” said the leader. “You might fancy yourself a tough guy, but I got killers in my band here. I wouldn’t call my bluff if I were you.”
Jake took his hands off the man’s throat, pushed himself off him, and stood up.
“Shoot him,” said the man on the ground. “Shoot that fuckin’ jar head, Lawrence!”
“Shut up, Nick,” the leader said. “We don’t know anything about these folks yet. We got plenty of time to kill ‘em.”
“Fucker tackled me,” said Nick.
“He sure did,” said Lawrence. “Knocked yer ass down good, too. But Mr. Grappler here isn’t gonna do anything now, are you Mr. Grappler?”
Jake stared impassively back.
“When you do what we do, you gotta expect some heroics, Nick,” Lawrence said. “Judging by the resemblance, I’d say you pissed him off by hitting his boy. That right, Grappler?”
Jake stared silently back. Lawrence backhanded him in the face. The slap was quick, loud, violent, and caught Jake off guard. His eyes bugged, he took a breath, scowled back for a moment as his face reddened on one side.
“Now that’s just disrespectful, Grappler,” said Lawrence. “I asked you a goddamn question, and you plum ignored me. So I’m gonna ask you again. That your boy there?”
Jake stared back, wordless. Without taking his gaze off of Jake, Lawrence reached his right hand out and pointed his gun and shot the mirror of the bus. It exploded into a thousand shards, some of which hit Maureen, Jada, and Estela. Morgan screamed.
“Next one’s goin’ into a person, Grappler. We need to establish who the Alpha male is here, and you don’t seem to understand that just yet. It’s a simple question. Is.That.Your.Boy?”
“Jake,” whispered the Colonel. “They have the upper hand. Don’t let innocent civilians get harmed on your watch.”
“Well, Jake,” said Lawrence. “Is it?”
Jake nodded.
“See? Not so hard after all. And just in case you were wonderin’, it’s me. I’m the Alpha fucking male around here. Do what I say, or you watch me do bad things to your friends. And you got a lotta nice friends here.”
The Colonel stepped forward. As he did, Lawrence turned the gun on him.
“Whoa, there, soldier man. Where do you think you’re goin’?” Lawrence said.
“Son, I know you have plans here, but the truth is, we don’t have time for this. We have vital information that we need to get to Washington, and your agenda here is holding us up.”
“What kind of information, sir?” asked Nick, the one whom Jake had tackled.
“Never mind, Nick. It’ don’t matter. There ain’t no Washington, soldier man. I know. I was there when it went down in flames. I watched them all drop to the ground and die. There’s nobody there for you to take nothin’ to, so shut the fuck up and get back in line.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve been working at Fort Detrick for the past five years on weapons defense. I have vital information that could help the country defend itself, and I need to warn the government about what has happened to the survivors of the bombing raids. The weapons that the Russians and Koreans used. They’ve started to affect people. It’s possible that more conflict could take place. We don’t know what our government is going to do, and no matter what local power you may have around here, you’re an American, for God’s sake. You’ve got to let us go to Washington.”
Nick’s face froze, slightly agape. He looked at the Colonel for a moment, then back to his leader, Lawrence.
“Boss? Maybe we ought to listen,” he said. Lawrence shook his head.
“I already told you, General. There ain’t no Washington. I watched it disappear.”
“You were in Washington when the bombs hit?” asked the Colonel.
“Just outside. I saw them from my truck. People just dropped. Everywhere. People that were nearby took a minute or two to die. I saw people everywhere crawling around and dying. Whatever buildings were left st
anding didn’t have any living people anywhere near. It was like spraying a can of Raid on an anthill. Everything just died all at once. I didn’t stick around much after that, but I know that Washington is gone, which means the government is gone. If there ain’t no government, then there ain’t no laws. So, it’s every man for himself, and that means the strong survive. Get me?”
The Colonel nodded, still dumbfounded by the news of Washington’s destruction. Lawrence turned his head towards Jake.
“And I am strong, Grappler man. ‘Case you were wondering. But your swelled up face is telling you that right about now, ain’t it, Marine?”
“So, what do you want from us?” asked Jake.
“Oh, you can talk when you want to, huh?” said Lawrence. “Well, let’s keep it simple. What was once yours is now ours.”
“Take what you want and let us get on our way, then,” said Jake.
“Jake, no!” said Al DeFillipo. “We worked for all that stuff.”
“It’s just stuff, Al. We know we can get more. We need to get out of here intact,” said Jake.
“Uh, hold on there, Grappler,” said Lawrence. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere. What was once yours is now ours. That includes your freedom.”
“What?” Jake said.
“You belong to us. We have some ventures in which we could use some cheap labor. Free is the cheapest labor I know,” said Lawrence.
“You’re making us your slaves?” asked Glen Billings.
“Whoa, there, boy,” said Lawrence. “I’m sure that word don’t sit well with you, so we’ll use another term. You’re ‘indentured servants.’ Most American colonists started out that way, so don’t worry. You can work off your debt.”
“We don’t owe you a debt,” said Al. Maureen grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back.
“Oh, but you do, friend,” said Lawrence. “You owe me your life.”
He pointed the gun to Al’s head. Al shrunk back and put his hands up.
“See? I thought you looked smart to me. Now you understand. I let you live, and you pay me the debt of life you owe me. Nick, get Troy to bring up the Jeep and the wagon. We got us some new agricultural workers.”
