by Nobody, Joe
As Bishop and Terri stood to leave, Pearson glanced out the window. “The sun will set soon. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to try to negotiate the mountain road in the dark. Please, at least accept our hospitability for the evening. You can be on your way first thing in the morning if you so choose.”
The remark caused Bishop a sudden bout of indecision. On one hand, his instincts screamed for him to get his wife and infant son as far away as possible, as soon as possible. On the other hand, towing the camper over the mountain had been difficult enough on the way in – doing so at night would pose substantially more risk.
Glancing back at their host, he replied, “Why, thank you, Pastor. Your suggestion is probably wise. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we can sleep in the camper tonight and be on our way first thing in the morning.”
Nodding and smiling, a polite façade now in full control, the preacher stepped around from behind his desk and put his hand on Bishop’s shoulder. “That would be fine. Perhaps you’ll even change your mind after a peaceful night’s rest. You can leave your rig right where it’s parked.”
The couple left the HQ building, Terri needing to feed an increasingly fussy Hunter, Bishop anxious to set up the camper before the light faded. He had just popped open the accordion-like top when a woman appeared, a pre-teenage boy under each of her arms. Bishop recognized the two young men immediately – the fishermen Terri and he had spooked at the lake.
“Mister, these two young’uns have something they need to say to you,” the lady said. Then she gently rattled both kids.
“Thank you for not turning us in,” they both mumbled, staring down at their feet - ashamed.
The woman continued, “I want to thank you as well, sir. I heard what Dean said, and it would have been easy for you to turn these two over. They’re good boys… mostly… they just love to go fishing and ignore the rules sometimes. If they had gotten caught poaching fish, well, I don’t know what the pastor would have done.”
Bishop nodded and smiled at the boys, not quite understanding what was going on. “Well, ma’am, truth be told, as a youth I was known to slip off from time to time, ignoring my dad’s wishes. Perfectly normal behavior, I guess. So what would have happened if they had been caught?”
The lady actually shuddered. “I’m… well… I’m not sure. They would have at least spent two days in the brig. When it’s kids, they often reduce the parent’s rations, too.”
“Brig?” Bishop asked, not sure he’d heard the word correctly. “There is a jail here? Used for minor teenage infractions?”
“Yes,” the woman nodded, her eyes scanning the area to make sure no one was within earshot. “It’s over by the main supply building. That’s where they issue punishment for anyone who breaks the law.”
Bishop nodded, trying to act nonchalant so he could get an honest read of what she was saying. “And what type of punishment do they issue?”
The topic clearly made her nervous. Bishop was concerned she was about to turn and run. “Oh, it depends,” came the low response. “These two troublemakers would have probably received a paddling, like they used to give in school back in my day. Older men… well… lashes are their most common punishment. Lashes or time in the brig.”
“Lashes? Corporal punishment for going fishing? Seriously?”
“You didn’t know? They make everyone gather and watch. I think for the kids, humiliation is worse than the sore fanny.”
“No ma’am, I had no idea. I’m glad the kids didn’t get caught though. Your secret is safe with me.”
Smiling, she turned to go, but then paused. Glancing back at Bishop, she added, “Oh, and watch yourself with Dean. That man is heartless. He controls the elders and has no mercy. From what I saw today, he clearly doesn’t like you much. Of course, he doesn’t like anybody who stands up to him… not that many do.”
“Elders? Who are the elders?”
Again, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention, she responded in a hushed voice. “Anyone you see carrying a gun is an elder. They’re sort of like our policemen. But be careful, they also have undercover agents. You never know who’s informing for the elders.”
Bishop grimaced, “Thanks for the warning. I’ll watch my back.”
Terri joined him, Hunter happy and sedate after his meal. She watched the woman and two boys walk away for a moment and then asked, “What was that all about?”
His wife’s reaction to Bishop’s recounting of the conversation was as expected, emotions ranging from disbelief to outrage. “Bishop, I think you’re spot on about this place. The more I learn, the more I get the heebie-jeebies. Should we go ahead and leave tonight?”
“I was just thinking the same thing, but we’re both exhausted and that road to the camp was pretty challenging during the day. Being tired and driving it at night probably wouldn’t be wise.”
Terri agreed, securing a now-sleeping Hunter back in his car seat so she could help with the camper. While the couple worked to set up their evening’s accommodations, Terri’s mind was racing with questions. “Bishop, do you think there’s any chance they won’t let us leave?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“I don’t know. There’s just something not right about all this… It gives me the creeps, like some old horror movie. You know, they never let the innocent people go in those old flicks. They may be plotting our demise right now.”
While Bishop laughed at his wife, he wasn’t completely sure she didn’t have a point. There was an undercurrent at the camp, and he was positive those waters were deep and cold.
“We can’t let them go,” Dean insisted. “You know the rules – no one leaves.”
Boyd wasn’t happy, his voice low as he snapped back, “Of course I know the rules. I wrote them, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. And I swore to uphold them – to help you enforce them. We can’t let them leave.”
The pastor stood, moving from his desk to the window and then gazing outside. After a long period of deep thought, he turned to Dean and declared, “I’m not sure we need to stop them. They didn’t see much, and I don’t believe there are that many people left out in the world for them to tell. Most wouldn’t believe them anyway.”
Dean shook his head in clear disgust. “We have no way of knowing who they might tell about us and this place. The last thing we need is to have a parade of desperate people wandering around the mountain, looking for our little slice of heaven. If you let them go, you’ll be violating one of our fundamental laws.”
While Pearson nodded, it was clear the man wasn’t completely sold. “We’ve already made him promise that he won’t divulge our presence to anyone. That Bishop fellow seems like a man of his word.”
Dean grunted, “That doesn’t mean anything… that promise might last until they got captured by some truly evil men. You don’t think they would sell us out to save their own skins? In a heartbeat, Pastor. Anyone would. That’s why we agreed on the law – no one leaves.”
Sighing, Pearson nodded. “I’m not sure we have anything to worry about anyway. After a good night’s rest, they may talk things over and realize we are building paradise right here. Anyway, I am going to make one last attempt to change their minds in the morning. If they still insist on leaving, then you do as you must. Just make sure no one at the camp has any clue. Either do it far away from here, or make it look like an accident. That’s the last thing we need right now – a bunch of gossip and whispers about what happened to the nice couple that was visiting.”
“And what about the child they have with them?”
The preacher’s head snapped up, anger clearly evident in his gaze. “What do you think I am, Dean? A barbarian? Of course, you should make every attempt to save the baby. It is completely innocent. We’ll find a good home for him here. One day he’ll join our crusaders.”
Mother Nature didn’t seem to care about Bishop’s level of exhaustion. Shortly after darkness fell, the wind kicked up, soon followed by roll
ing claps of distant thunder.
“Sounds like we’re in for a rough night,” Bishop told Terri as the couple sat and consumed dinner. His observation was accented by a burst of lightning, following by a rumbling so deep it rattled the plates resting on the camper’s small dinette.
“Will this thing handle a windstorm?” Terri inquired, looking around at the raised canvas walls.
“I guess. I mean, this is the first pop-top I’ve ever taken camping. I hope they designed it to handle the occasional thunderstorm.”
Rain began pelting the thin metal roof as the couple put away the dinner dishes. The precipitation was soon followed by gusts of wind so strong it made the trailer rock on its wheels.
“Bishop, should we ride out this storm in the truck? Isn’t it a bit heavier?” Terri asked, bracing herself against the small kitchen counter.
“If it gets much worse, we should move. The good news… I’ve never heard of a tornado in the New Mexico mountains.”
For two hours, the storm raged. More than once Bishop decided it was time for them to bug-out to the truck. Just as he would prepare to scoop up Hunter and make the mad dash for the cab, the gale would subside just long enough for the couple to relax, hoping it was over. The cycle would then repeat, gradually escalating to a crescendo, rattling the small camper with waves of rain, wind and deafening explosions of thunder to the point of evacuation.
Twigs, bark and what sounded like wind-driven pebbles sprayed the sides of their shelter. On more than one occasion, Bishop had been convinced something was about to blow through the thin walls. He had Terri sit in a specific space on the floor, a spot he thought would be somewhat protected by the small refrigerator and low, hard sides of the camper’s frame. Hunter, thankfully sleeping, never left his mother’s side.
The onslaught finally weakened, eventually subsiding to the point where the couple felt comfortable enough to turn in for the night. While Terri readied for bed, Bishop decided to check for storm damage, both to their trailer and the camp.
He pulled his night vision and thermal imager out of the cab, tempted to sling on his rifle despite the law of the land. Begrudgingly, he left the weapon locked away.
The rain-soaked gravel lot was covered with woodland debris. Leaves, twigs, pine needles, and even a few larger branches were evidence of the storm’s ferocity. The post-storm air was magnificent. Bishop inhaled deeply of the fresh scent that clung to the valley, a sweet aroma of ionized clean and freshly watered foliage. It was one of his favorite things.
Making a mental note to share the sensation with Terri, he set about circling both the truck and trailer. There wasn’t any apparent damage, so he settled in on removing the larger pieces of the forest that had settled here and there.
As he made for the camper’s door, he studied the camp. Four solar-powered streetlights illuminated the area, their high perch casting just enough glow to generate shadows. He detected movement on the far edge of the clustered buildings, a slight rise in elevation allowing for a clear view. There were people moving around over there – more than a few.
Bishop glanced at his watch and saw the time was 11 p.m. That was a full hour after curfew, another factor adding to the mystery. He unlocked the cab and withdrew his rifle, quickly scanning the activity through his magnified optic. “Wonder what my friend the pastor would think about this late night soiree?” Bishop thought. “Maybe I should wake Dean so he can issue a citation or two for these afterhours partyers.”
Men were moving under the forest canopy, a least a dozen, perhaps more. They appeared to be in a line, carrying large sacks one direction and then returning empty-handed. They’re unloading something. There was also some sort of illumination, but it was dim and unidentifiable. His vantage didn’t allow for observing either the source or the drop-off point. He decided to try to find a better angle.
A quick scan with the thermal imager didn’t reveal any human heat signatures in the area, so Bishop double-timed across the parking lot, making for the far corner of the HQ building where he hoped to gain a clear view of the distant proceedings.
He peeked around to the rear of the headquarters and froze. There were two men standing not more than 20 feet away, the outline of their rifles silhouetted by the camp’s utility lights. Shit, he thought. My first night here, and I’m already breaking the law. I’m out after curfew and armed, despite giving my word that I would abide. I hope Terri’s got some bail money squirrelled away in the back of the pickup.
Retreating slowly, Bishop managed the truck without detection. Terri opened the camper door just as he was returning. “Bishop?” she called out, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah… I’m fine. Can you come over here for a second?”
Terri glanced back, making sure Hunter was still asleep, and then stepped down from the threshold. “What’s up?”
“Check this out,” he said, handing her the rifle and pointing toward the far side of the camp.
Terri gave him a questioning look, but then raised the weapon and began scanning where her husband had pointed. She eventually focused on what had captured his interest. “What are they doing over there?” she asked without lowering the rifle. “It looks like a bucket brigade or something, but I don’t see any fire or smoke. They’re unloading bags of… of what?”
“No idea, and it’s after curfew as well. Pretty strange, huh?”
Terri moved her eye away from the optic and glanced toward the HQ. “Let’s move over there so I can see around those buildings.”
“No dice. I snuck over there and almost ran into two armed men. Remember my promise to keep the rifles locked in the truck?”
Terri looked again, a frown showing on her face. “Dang it! I was all set to make a citizen’s arrest,” she teased, hoping to shake the eerie feeling that accompanied the chill that just ran up her spine. “It’s all so weird, Bishop,” she half-whispered to her mate. She then handed the rifle back, Bishop quickly securing the weapon.
“I can’t wait to get the hell out of here,” he declared.
“I hear ya… the sooner the better.”
Chapter 11
Camp Pinion, New Mexico
August 1
The morning broke crisp, clear, and cold. The dampness in the air resulted in more of a nip than what the thermometer would have predicted. Terri demanded Bishop dig the baby’s box of clothes out of the camper shell so she could bundle her child against the weather, refusing to discuss anything else until Hunter’s warmth was addressed.
A quick breakfast was followed by a daylight inspection of the truck and towing rig. While Terri readied the baby for the upcoming trip, Bishop collapsed the camper. Everything seemed roadworthy and ready to roll. Terri was securing the infant in the car seat when Bishop’s warning sounded.
“We’ve got company, and I don’t like the look of this.”
Terri glanced around, quickly zeroing in on three men who were approaching the truck. Dean was in the lead, and all three gents were carrying rifles.
“Take your AR, keep it down, and stay on the far side of the truck. I’ll see what they want,” Bishop whispered.
“Got it,” she replied. She bent over, kissed Hunter’s forehead and then slipped her rifle out the door, keeping it hidden from the approaching men.
“Good morning,” greeted Bishop, trying to keep things civil.
“No, it’s not,” growled Dean. “I’m afraid you’ll not be leaving today. The road is blocked – looks like lightning knocked down a sizable tree.”
“No kidding?” Bishop responded, the story suspicious, but not unbelievable.
“Nothing would make me happier to be rid of you, cowboy. I wouldn’t joke about such a thing. I’ll be talking to the pastor this morning about securing your weapons. Until then, please keep them locked away.”
The three camp men started to walk away, but Bishop couldn’t let it go. “Dean,” he called out.
“Yeah?”
“If you come back after my weapons, bring
more men. You’ll need them.”
Dean rolled his eyes, grunted and then turned away, continuing back toward the camp with his helpers following along. After they had proceeded some distance, Bishop found Terri standing with her hand on her hips. “Why did you do that?”
Bishop flushed red, slightly embarrassed by his words. “I don’t know… hell… I guess I wanted to see his reaction.”
Terri took a step closer, poking a finger in her husband’s chest. “Now listen up, cowboy. I don’t want any gunplay, but if it comes to that then I don’t think you should be giving them any warning. Wouldn’t it be smarter to act like you were scared and then surprise them with a formal ass kicking?”
Bishop grinned at his wife’s logic. “I love you,” was his answer.
“You see, the Lord is looking out for us. He’s given us more time to convince the newcomers to join our flock,” announced Pastor Pearson after hearing of the blocked road.
“That guy is a jerk,” replied Dean. “He’s too full of himself and not a man of the Lord. You’re wasting your time.”
The minister’s initial reaction was to dismiss his lieutenant’s words, but then he paused. “Our recruitment of the townsfolk didn’t go as well as we had hoped. Our vision of the future was weakly portrayed, and I failed to frame our message from the proper perspective. We both know how that ended. If we wish to continue doing the Lord’s work, we have to improve our game. I suggest your crews take their time clearing the road. With God’s help, I’ll use that opportunity to convert our wayward visitors.”
Dean didn’t like it, displaying his feelings openly with a scowl. “I was a man consumed with hatred. I despised illegals, loathed people who were a different color, and blamed the Jews for most of our society’s issues. I was a man drowning in negativity, looking for liberal conspiracy under every rock and sure my freedom was being eroded by Washington. Your message… your vision… it gave me hope. It converted me from a tortured soul who cursed my fellow man into a man who blindly trusts in God’s word. You delivered that word, Pastor, and did so in a way that gave me hope for the future.”
