Righteous Gathering: Book 1 of the Righteous Survival EMP Saga

by Timothy Van Sickel

  We come out on the road my wife's office is on. The schools are on the same road. Janie gears down and speeds past me. Turning into the elementary school, it still looks like a fire drill, but a bit more chaotic. Parents are starting to show up to get their kids. Most are on foot, but some are not; a few bicycles, one old motor bike, an old truck, a few classic cars and a couple of quads have been put in service. Five hours in and people are starting to get resourceful.

  We pull the van and trailer off to the side of the main entrance as Janie takes her bike right up to a few official-looking administrators. She pulls off her helmet and, I'm sure, beams her bright smile, asking about her two younger boys. There is some gesturing, some shaking of heads. Janie shows an ID. The officials nod but start pointing at her bike, with her countering and pointing at us and the van. Someone is sent off in the direction of where the kids are running and playing.

  Finally the boys come running to her, smiling. They seem unaffected by the situation, still innocent, enjoying a long recess on a beautiful late summer day. Janie sweeps both of them up and hugs them tight. I cannot see, but I am sure she is crying tears of both joy and apprehension.

  She grabs each boy by the hand and walks them over to us. She still has tears in her eyes. As she helps to load them in the van she smiles, keeping up a strong face in a difficult situation. "Three on board, two more to get. Let's keep moving," she says. "I'll lead us over there."

  "Okay, Janie, but don't stop for anything," I respond.

  A few turns and a half mile later we pull into the junior/senior high school. The same scene unfolds, except no kids running and playing, a little more somberness in the air. From this high on the hill, the plumes of smoke from several fires can be seen. Additionally, the lack of traffic and dead cell phones and laptops has let this older set of kids know the situation is not right.

  Janie pulls up to what seems to be a check-in point, where other parents have gathered. She again shows her ID and after a brief conversation it seems as if the kids are going to be brought to her again.

  With nowhere else to go, we pull into a nearby parking lot. It's a little too full for my liking and a few too many people are checking us out. We are not the only running vehicle around, but we are attracting too much attention. A large passenger van, fully loaded, with a loaded trailer, we stick out like a sore thumb. I worry about the glances we are getting from a few groups of people gathered around the other stalled cars.

  I see a group of what must be parents, about ten people, with several teenagers in tow, looking at us and then start walking towards us. I don’t like the vibe of the situation. They look angry. I hear one man shout, "Hey, your van is working? Can you help us get our kids home? You could use that van to help us get our kids home."

  I look around for a way out. Some honking and aggressive driving will probably clear a path, but we have to wait for Janie and the kids. I notice a "gun-free zone" sign and formulate a quick plan. I look at Rebecca, "I'm going to go talk with them. Get in the driver's seat. If this doesn't go well, just drive, do what you need to do to get you and the kids out of here. Don’t let them take the van."

  I pull off my jacket as I get out, making sure my Glock is clearly in view. Looking at the closest woman with two teenaged kids, I ask, "Where do ya need ta get to?"

  "We live over on Oakridge. It's only about a mile away," she responds. "It won't take you long, and those three kids over there only live two doors down, so you could take us all in one trip."

  "Ma'am," I respond politely with a smile, "when you were in high school, how far did you walk to catch the bus?" I am hoping for a good answer here.

  "Well," she says a little taken off guard, "Umm, we got driven to school, we rarely walked."

  Wrong answer, I think. "Lucky for you," I respond. "I got rides when I could, but we all usually walked to school, two miles. I don’t mean to be rude, miss, but if you only live a mile away, you could be home in fifteen minutes. You walked here right? Why not walk home?"

  Louder, I address the small but growing crowd. "Listen people, I would like to help you but I can't. I have my wife, and five grandchildren. I have to get all the way to Central City. We can't walk there, and this here van of mine is taking us there.

  "You all live within a couple of miles from here," I continue. "The buses aren't running, they may not get running today. I suggest you quit thinking someone is going to come rescue you. Take matters into your own hands. You all can walk home. Enjoy the time with your kids and enjoy the beauty of this great earth God created for us."

  "But sir," a woman from further away speaks up. "Things ain't right. Nothing's workin'. I saw some planes crash and we can see the fires around town. You seem to know what's going on. You got a van that's workin', and you're grabbin' your family and getting outta town! Tell us what's going on!" she almost yells at the end.

  I feel compassion for these people. "Listen up, and I'll tell you all what I seen and heard. I talked to my son at one of the reserve centers, we been attacked. Probably knocked the grid out, internet too. Things are going to get bad, so again, I suggest you all get home. Hopefully they'll get this worked out soon. If you're a prayin' kind of person, I suggest you pray. If you're not the prayin' kind, I suggest you start."

  "Attacked you say! I knew it!" says someone else. The crowd starts talking amongst themselves, some grumbling, some shouting at each other, at no one, at God.

  The low rumble of Janie's Harley alerts me that she must be coming with the other two boys. The crowd is still too heavy for us to move the van through. I need to get them moving.

  "Y'all gotta get movin', y'all gotta get your kids home. I can't help you," I state loudly over the crowd noise.

  They all stare at me a little dumbfounded, then start to move off.

  I maintain my position in front of the van, authoritatively. Janie idles the bike up to the van with Rusty and Blake trotting behind her. The boys load into the van. I motion for Janie to come over, which she does.

  "This is a little sketchy, but I think I've sent them on their way. I'm going to jump back in the van and lead us out of here. I want you to follow us, but if you can help by being aggressive with the bike, I need you to do that. Can you do that?"

  "A little people versus bike chicken game? Can do," she replies. "You got my kids, I got your back."

  As I walk back to the van the small crowd has started to disperse and Rebecca scoots over to the passenger seat. I jump in the driver's seat and start forward with our little caravan.

  Wife, yes. Kids, working on it. Grandkids, got five, four more to get. Okay God, maybe this will work out… But we still need to get back to the farm.

  And here we are, one of the few vehicles running. I have my wife beside me, on edge, alert, processing the situation, but ready to be a grizzly momma if needed. Two year old Sarah is strapped into her child seat behind me. And four of my grandsons are buckled in and ready for the ride, almost acting as if this were a video game and not real life. Their momma is riding scout on a 1984 Harley. Not to mention the overloaded trailer and the duffels strapped to the roof. We need to get home before we attract too much attention.

  The ride back to the farm goes relatively smoothly. We have to dodge the same wrecks and more people. Janie gets aggressive with the bike a few times and I lay on the horn to help move people out of the way when needed.

  The coal truck accident that had started a fire is a bit scary. The fire has spread to several acres of forest. It being late summer, all the dry wood and debris is burning rapidly. There are a couple of people there on bicycles and quads, staring at the inferno, but there is nothing they can do. How long will that fire rage with no one able to stop it, I wonder. After seeing the wrecks and this inferno, the boys now realize this is real, it's not a video game. The mood in the van is very somber.

  Passing through Central City I see Reverend Wysinger on the steps of his Baptist Church, talking with a few town residents and parishioners. This is not our church
, but my company renovated their kitchen a few years ago, and the reverend and I are good friends.

  I feel the need to stop, to talk, to pray. I do not feel the onset of mayhem here that I felt in Johnstown. Here I feel a sense of coming together. Or maybe I want to feel a sense of coming together. God works in mysterious ways. He is telling me to stop here. So I do.

  "Honey, I'm going to pull over here," I say. "I want to talk with Reverend Wysinger."

  "Yes, that’s a good idea, Mark. We can all pray together," She says calmly. She grabs my arm firmly. "Mark, I didn’t think this would happen, but it has, it's scary! I'm scared." She leans in so the kids can't hear, "Mark, I'm afraid, I'm afraid for us all. Some of those people we passed at those wrecks, they were dead! And it's just going to get worse, isn't it?" I look at her and nod grimly.

  I step out of the van and the reverend smiles. There are tears on his cheeks. Janie pulls in behind us. She and Becca unload the kids.

  The reverend wordlessly steps forward and we embrace.

  I step back and look the reverend straight in the eye. "Reverend, the world just went to hell and we're still here? What's going on? We been attacked and life as we know it has changed. I truly prayed for the Rapture, especially for my kids. Now what? Start over?"

  "God has not taken us, my son. Our duty here on earth is not over. Seeing you and your family gives me strength. The Lord has plans for us, friend. We have to find that path and follow it."

  The reverend turns to Becca and embraces her. "Sister Rebecca. Stay strong, sister." He looks at Janie, trying to recall a name from the recesses of his mind. "Katie?" He asks.

  "Katie is my mom, I'm Janie," she responds. Pointing to each child she adds, "And this is Rusty, Blake, Jimmy, Mark, and Sarah."

  I ask the reverend if we can have some time alone, that I need to talk with him in private. He excuses himself from the small gathering and he, Rebecca and I walk into the narthex of his church.

  "Reverend, I'd like us to pray together before I tell you what I know and we talk of what's going on." The reverend nods.

  "Dear Lord, We pray for your mercy and your grace upon us and all who love you. Too many have turned from you. Too many wish evil upon their fellow man. Too many have decided that you do not exist. We pray for all those who have turned against you. We pray that a seed is planted in their hearts that they may come to know you and love you.

  "Now man's desire for power has brought trouble to us all. We pray that you will give us strength to prevail against evil, wisdom to make righteous decisions in times of need, integrity that we may keep an honest heart, love that we will need when facing hate and, most importantly, Lord, let us keep the peace in our hearts that we know through your son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, Amen."

  The reverend adds, "Dear Lord, we know that if you are with us no one can stand against us. We know that the same power that raised Christ from the dead is in us through the Holy Spirit. We know that through you all things are possible. We pray that we keep our faith in you, in all things and in all ways. In Christ’s name we do pray, Amen."

  I ask the reverend what he knows. He tells me of a parishioner, Sammy, who is a ham radio enthusiast, and apparently had a shielded radio. He had stopped by about an hour ago. He had heard that both New York and D.C. had been hit with nuclear blasts. He had also heard that the power outage is widespread, basically all of the country. He had heard the same from other countries, as well, and other cities being hit by nukes.

  Sammy was so shaken up that he came to the church for solace. He didn't think the reverend would be there. He thought he had been left behind in the Rapture, too. But he wanted to go somewhere to pray, to find someone to talk to. The reverend had reassured him that he was at peace with the Lord. But smartly, he had sent Sammy home and told him to listen to the radio and write down anything of importance.

  "Wow!" I say. "That's worse than I thought it would be. D.C. and New York nuked? My son said the same thing. That doesn’t make sense. An EMP attack and ground level nukes?"

  I proceed to tell the reverend what I have seen from the downed planes to the fires and accidents and people starting to get on edge already. Becca adds in about the guard wanting to take our van at her office and the same with the crowds at the school. Tearfully she tells the reverend about the accidents and the hurt and dead people we have already seen.

  "Reverend, we have tough times ahead of us. How are we, as Christians, going to protect and save our own, while still extending a hand of love to those in need? If we have no electricity, no way to move food, get money…society is going to collapse. People are going to die and there will be nothing we can do to stop it."

  "Let's hope, no, let's pray that it won’t be that bad, Mark," the reverend responds.

  "We are far removed from most of what's going to go bad," I state. "We need to try and band together. We have farmers so we have food. We can make it through this. And eventually we will be able to help others. Help others learn to take care of themselves. But desperate people will try and take what we have, that's what scares me. How do we stop them, how do we help them? Can we help them? I don’t know, reverend. We need to keep in touch. And I want to hear what Sammy finds out on that ham radio."

  We talk some more. I bring up the fact that there are several thousand people at the Flight 93 Memorial. He had heard the helicopters off in the distance, and I explain my theory about the elites being ferried out. The rest are stranded there. I think most will head towards Route 219. But some will head this way. Sometime tomorrow, several hundred stragglers, or more, will be coming through this small town. They will be hungry, thirsty and desperate. It would be good if the town was set up to take care of their needs and move them along. The reverend nods grimly, he hopes to meet with his deacons soon to start and plan a path forward, to help their parishioners, and now, to keep in mind the needs of those who may be stranded.

  I let him know that I will stop in the next day before heading in to get Britt, Ken and the boys. I give him a few suggestions for getting prepared for hard times like gathering blankets, firewood, water containers and such, even at this late stage. He thanks me.

  As we head out of the church we notice that the crowd has gotten a little bigger. Everyone is polite, but questions are flying. These people have the Lord in their heart, but life has changed and they know it. They are looking for answers wherever they can find them.

  We load up the kids and start heading out of town. We pass the Dollar General and I quickly pull in. There are a few people there but it is not overly crowded. I still have over $2000 in cash on me. "You still open for cash business I suppose?" I ask the attendant as I enter with Becca at my side.

  "Yes sir," the young attendant says. "I'm just keepin track of it all here in this ledger book I grabbed out of the office supplies aisle," he says with a smile.

  "How many cartons of Marlboro do you have?"….I proceed to load up on cigarettes for me and Becca. That bad habit reeling up again. I buy him out of candy bars as well. I also buy him out of sugar and coffee. The smokes, sugar, coffee and candy bars we load in the van.

  Realizing the selfishness of my acts, feeling that angel tugging at my heart, I proceed to buy all his bottled water and as much food as I can with the cash I have. I buy mostly canned and dried goods. This I have him set aside and tell him it will be picked up by people from the Baptist Church down the road.

  I send Janie back on the bike to let Reverend Wysinger know to have all the food and water picked up by his parishioners. I tell her to let Reverend Wysinger know that these supplies could be used to help any passersby to refresh themselves so they can continue on the path to Johnstown, or wherever they may be headed. It's several pallets full of food and water. I hope he has the manpower to move it and the wisdom to distribute it justly.

  Janie is back shortly. She tells us the reverend understands our mission and will carry it out as best he can. He gets what we are trying to do and is extremely grateful for our generosi
ty, to both any travelers and the help that it will be to the town.

  Once again we set out down the road to our safe haven, the farmstead. I say a silent prayer of gratitude to my mother and father for having the wisdom and foresight to buy the farm. I know they are smiling down at us from heaven as we gather to this safe haven that they provided us.

  Other than the distant plumes of smoke and a few stalled cars and trucks, the final few miles of the trip are uneventful. I see Thad's tractor parked next to the barn, but no sign of him. At least he is home and safe. My neighbor's house looks empty as we turn past it onto the long driveway to the farm. We are greeted by the dogs. They are happy to see us and oblivious as to how the world has changed. They don’t know it, but the world has changed for them, too.

  Eight hours after I watched three planes nosedive from the sky, it is still a clear blue sky, darkening to the east. The redwinged blackbirds are still skirting along the edge of the meadow. The goldenrod is still brilliant in the evening sunshine. Two blue jays are cackling in an elderberry tree. My beef cows are grazing in the meadow. Two hawks gracefully circle high above. The world changed for us, but not for them.

  Chapter 9 Bacon, Spring 2014

  "Rebecca! Rebecca, come quick! We have piglets! We have piglets!" I shout out as the early morning sun creeps over the tree line. Running to the house I slip in the thick dew. "Baby doll, baby doll!" I holler as I race in the door. "Martha had her litter! We have nine baby pigs! They are all suckling! You have to come see!"