by Nobody, Joe
Dean stopped, taking a moment to carefully choose his words. “But, with all due respect, there will always be a certain segment of the population who won’t listen. Some people will refuse to embrace salvation even if it slaps them up the side of the head. In just a matter of a few short years, we’ve shown remarkable progress. We get closer to our goals every single day. You don’t need those strangers any more than we needed that dead weight in Crawford. They’re nothing but trouble. We had to purge this flock once already, Pastor.”
The preacher nodded and then closed his eyes. He whispered unintelligibly for over three minutes, seemingly in a conversation that only he could hear. When he finally spoke, there was a tone of finality in his voice. “God has seen fit to guide my heart along his righteous path so far. I hear your advice, my trusted friend, but I can’t ignore the Maker’s words. It won’t derail or obstruct our agenda for me to try to pull the strangers from Satan’s grasp. After all, we have converted many. If I fail, then we’ve only wasted a fraction of time. If I succeed, we will be stronger and wiser for the effort.”
Dean knew it was pointless to debate the subject any further. “As you wish, Pastor. And their firearms?”
“For right now, let’s allow our guest to keep his earthly possessions. As you pointed out, he is suspicious by nature, and our demanding his weapons might cause him to resort to violence. As long as he keeps them locked away, it will be harmless.”
“Again, Pastor, I think that’s a mistake. Others might notice and question the exception to the law.”
“I’ll speak to him. Hopefully, the Lord will give me the words to convince him of the wisdom of our rules. Again, a clear violation can’t be tolerated, but for now let’s see if we can walk the line of compromise. Because this family has seen much of the world since the apocalypse, their decision to stay here would be a tremendous endorsement of our burgeoning paradise. It would solidify our congregation.”
“I pray you’re right, Pastor.”
For the second time in as many days, Bishop worked to set up the camper. It wasn’t a difficult task, one that allowed him to think while he absentmindedly cranked, snapped, pulled, and zipped. Terri, mostly to entertain Hunter, stood nearby, bouncing the thickly bundled baby on her hip while securing him in a position where he could watch his father toil. She, of course, provided the running commentary.
“Now Hunter, watch your father closely on this next step. Last time, he banged his knuckle on that hinge. If he does it again, I’ll have to cover your ears because he tends to string several curse words together when he’s in pain, a habit he needs to break before you get any older.”
Bishop looked up, only paying half attention to his wife’s watchful narration. “I don’t swear that much,” he protested.
Terri’s snicker predicted her disagreement with his statement. “It really doesn’t matter that much now, my love, but seriously… we both are going to have to clean up our vocabulary. Young children are so impressionable, and we don’t want a toddling Hunter going around dropping F-bombs every other word.”
“Do I really cuss that much?” Bishop asked, trying to recall past episodes.
“When you get hurt or mad, you tend to lose any verbal inhibitions. I’ve been amazed at some of your phrasing. You’re quite creative.”
On the defensive, Bishop decided to change the conversation’s direction. “I think I picked that up from you. I should bow to the master.”
Terri’s expression changed from a playful grin to a contemplative frown. “I don’t use foul language often. Yes, every now and then, but not as a habit.”
Bishop, pleased with the change of momentum, was about to recite a few examples when movement from the HQ building drew his attention. Reverend Pearson was approaching.
“Good morning,” the preacher greeted. “One heck of a storm we had last night, wasn’t it?”
“Sure was,” Bishop responded. “Was there much damage to the camp?”
“No, just the road. We’ve got a crew headed that way, but with only axes and handsaws, it may take them a bit to clear things up. Was your camper harmed?”
“No, but we didn’t get much sleep. It was a little scary at times,” Terri responded.
The preacher looked over his shoulder at the sky and then announced, “I am genuinely sorry. We should have accommodated you in one of our cabins. They are so much safer than mobile homes,” he noted, always campaigning for his little community. “Well, it looks like we’re in for our normal clear weather for a while. I’m sure there will be the opportunity for you to catch up on your rest.”
“That would be nice,” Bishop responded coolly.
Pearson continued, “I didn’t get a chance to spend much time with you folks yesterday. I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m still not sure why you both are in such a hurry to leave our valley. It is important to me to understand your reservations. If, later on today, you could take a few moments to expand, I would surely appreciate it. I’m afraid that I’m new to this governance thing, and any feedback would be appreciated.”
Terri and Bishop glanced at each other, both a little surprised by the pastor’s request. It was Terri who answered. “We’d be happy to explain our feelings, Pastor.”
“Good! I’m glad to hear it. We are having a wedding today, and I’ve got to prepare for the ceremonies, but if I might stop by this afternoon, we can sit and chat. Is there anything else you need?”
“A wedding?” Terri inquired, surprised by the announcement.
“Yes, it has been planned for some time now. We make a big deal out of such events because I believe it good for morale. You both are welcome to attend – it’s down at the outdoor amphitheater on the west side of the camp. There will even be extra food served.”
Bishop cleared his throat, an idea popping into his mind. “I do have a request. Since we are somewhat stranded, I’d like to go hunting up in the mountains if that wouldn’t cause a problem. We’re short on fresh meat. If I did get lucky and harvest a deer, I’d be happy to split it with you to repay your hospitality.”
The preacher didn’t like it. Bishop could tell his request was unexpected and unwelcome by the way the man shifted his weight. When it became clear that Pearson was trying to think up a good reason to deny the request, Bishop bolstered his logic.
“Terri and I are used to making our own way. It’s something we believe very strongly in. I think a significant part of our hesitation to join your community is due to the fact that we have little to contribute. If I could provide fresh meat, demonstrate my skills as a hunter, it would make us feel like we were arriving as equals, not some vagabond refugees you rescued from the desert.”
Bishop regretted his little speech as soon as the words crossed his tongue. The contention was borderline ridiculous, almost comical. His mind raced, trying to recover, egress or simply make the entire thing into a joke. Before he could pull a verbal rabbit out of his hat, something changed in the minister’s eyes. At first, Bishop thought his weak argument had offended the man in some way, but he quickly dismissed the notion. It was something else.
“Pride is a dangerous sin, young man,” the pastor began. “Yet, I detect more in your need than simple ego,” he continued, clearly believing Bishop’s request came from a deeper place than what appeared on the surface. “Normally, we control the harvesting of wildlife very, very tightly. This is because we believe it will have to last us for years to come and must be carefully managed. But, I also respect your desire to prove yourself and to make a contribution. In fact, I wish more of my flock possessed such a need. I’ll grant you permission to take one animal, if the good Lord permits you steady aim.”
“The Lord has never had any issue with my aim,” Bishop replied, still off balance and trying to make a joke. It fell flat.
Terri came to the rescue, despite being surprised by Bishop’s unexpected need to go hunting and the pastor’s over-the-top response. “Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll catch up on m
y sleep while you’re out gallivanting around the mountains.”
“Wonderful,” the camp’s leader pronounced. “I’ll stop back late this afternoon so we can talk and perhaps see a trophy from the hunt.”
After Pearson wandered off, Terri turned to her husband and said, “Okay, now you’re in serious trouble, lying to a man of the cloth. What’s up with this bullshit about going hunting?”
“Did you just say ‘bullshit?’” he asked, a grin on his lips.
“Yes, I just said bullshit, and that’s because you’re full of it. What’s going on inside of that sin-filled head of yours, young man?”
“This place is shrouded in a cloud of weird. The longer I’m here, the more the oddities pile up. Why does he give a rat’s posterior if we stay here or not? It’s like he’s fixated on converting us or something. We would be nothing but three more mouths to feed. Then you’ve got him playing good cop while his henchman plays the opposite role. Why? Throw in their Marxist rules, excessively retributive punishments, the crazy stuff going on last night, and it all adds up to a king-sized hill of bizarre.”
“And so… this has what to do with your going hunting?”
Bishop shook his head, “Sorry about that. I should have warned you, but the idea just occurred to me all of a sudden. I have zero interest in going hunting. I do want to explore a little bit. I’m planning on working my way over to where those guys were last night, and I want to have a rifle with me while I’m poking around. Hunting was the only excuse I could come up with.”
“Why should we care? Let’s just get out of here in one piece and be done with the whole thing.”
“Because if we’re wrong about all this… if it’s just an unfortunate combination of circumstance and unwarranted paranoia, then we’ve bypassed what might be our best opportunity to make a new home.” He swept the surrounding valley with his hand and continued, “This place has everything we need in case Nick can’t clear my name. I know this self-sustaining society exists; I can only guess at what we’ll find once we’re on the road again. The known versus the unknown makes it worth investigating.”
Terri pondered his words for a moment, looking around at the drop-dead gorgeous scenery. It wasn’t the beauty, she realized, but the bounty of food, water, and shelter it could provide. Finally glancing back at her mate, she relented, “You’re right. This reminds me of my visit to Fort Stockdale. I was absolutely convinced that D.A. Gibson was the worst monster this earth had seen since Adolf Hitler. Every little fact pointed toward that conclusion, and yet, when I went there and uncovered the truth, it had all been a big misunderstanding.”
Bishop agreed. “We could say the same about T-Bone or any number of examples. Life has always been like that when you are on the outside looking in, but somehow I think the collapse of society has made things worse. I don’t want to throw this away without hard facts and evidence. For all we know, that lady telling me about the punishment was a natural born liar. Pearson might be on the verge of lifting the camp’s pseudo-communist rules now that things have leveled out. Hell, Dean might be a really nice guy who is just overprotective.”
Terri nodded, already having thought that might be where her hubby was going. Being honest with herself, she admitted that last night’s storm had frightened her enough to feel uncomfortable about living in the camper for any length of time. She recalled their reaction when they had first seen the valley and how it had provided hope. Bishop was right, they should be absolutely sure before they abandoned this opportunity. “You think Hunter and I will be okay here while you’re gone?”
Bishop shrugged, “There’s certainly no guarantee, but my read is that they won’t bother you. I’d keep a weapon handy, and if there is any trouble, fire off a shot. I won’t be far.”
“A nap does sound good. Okay, you’ve got my permission… go frolic around in the woods if you want,” she teased. Then, with a serious tone, “You come back to me, my love. You come back in one piece.”
Bishop made sure no one was in the vicinity before opening the truck’s camper shell. Dean’s attitude was bad enough without fueling the fire by his knowing what was stored inside the enclosure. The man’s head would explode if he saw all of my weapons, Bishop chuckled.
While he had no intent of shooting any animal, he had to make good on the perception. Choosing the long-range AR10 with its big scope and powerful caliber made sense. If he had truly been after game, that would be the rifle of choice.
The next decision involved how much ammo to pack. The typical foray for meat wouldn’t require a lot of rounds. He grinned, recalling the old infantry wisdom of ounces equal pounds, and pounds equal pain. A hunter would take only 10 to 15 rounds to minimize the weight of the ammo. The same logic could be applied to his body armor – an unnecessary burden for hunting.
If anyone asked, he could justify the Kevlar vest – a reasonable protection against hunting accidents. After all, he was a visitor and would not be expected to be found traipsing in the woods. He would have to hide his spare magazines in his pack, a problem only if a firefight broke out. Unlikely, he determined. You’re not going into battle; you’re scouting.
He was just about to kiss Terri goodbye when footfalls sounded behind him. Turning, he noticed Dean approaching, the same two fellas in tow from this morning. They’re a cute threesome, he mused.
“Against my better advice, Pastor Pearson informs me he’s given you permission for a hunt. Where are you going?”
“Well hello there back at ya,” Bishop replied. “My day is going just fine, thanks for asking.”
Dean ignored the sarcasm. “I asked where you were going.”
Bishop pointed to the north side of the valley, “I thought I would head up that way. I’m getting a late start, so my chances are slim, but it will be interesting to get a feel for the local game population.”
Nodding toward the rifle slung across Bishop’s chest, he said, “That doesn’t look like any hunting rifle I’ve ever seen.”
Smirking, Bishop replied, “Depends on what you’re hunting. It’s accurate and has enough stopping power to do the job. It’s not like I’m carrying around a full arsenal in the truck, ya know.”
“Whatever,” was the response from the head elder. Dean pointed to the east with one arm, to the northwest with the other. “Stay between these two lines. We have lookouts in the mountains, and I’d hate for there to be an accident.”
“Do your lookouts shoot anyone they see on sight?”
Grunting, Dean shook his head, “No. I’m more worried about your shooting them and then making up some hunting accident excuse. Don’t go into any areas that are marked. And…” he turned to one of his helpers, motioning with his hand. A bright, florescent-orange vest was produced, one of Dean’s men handing the safety device to Bishop. “Wear this at all times,” Dean continued. “It’s the smart thing to do.”
It’s the smart thing for me to do if I want you to be able to ambush me, thought Bishop. He shrugged, accepting the colorful item but not pulling it on. “Anything else I need to know? Any booby-traps, punji pits, or minefields?”
“No, not outside of the marked areas.”
“And what, if I may ask, are these restricted areas?”
“You may not ask. Please check in at the HQ when you return.”
Dean abruptly turned and walked away, a sure sign the conversation was over.
“I’ll say one thing,” Terri snorted, “He’s not a chatty Cathy by any sense of the imagination. Why do you invoke this reaction from people?”
“I guess it’s my friendly personality and inherent charm,” Bishop replied while examining the safety vest. It was an extra small size, intended for a child. Holding it up for his wife to see, he added, “He never intended for me to be able to wear this. It might fit my arm.”
“You’re at a camp built for boys. It might be the only size they have.”
“Maybe… or he’s hoping I won’t wear it so there can be a hunting accident.”
/> Terri stepped closer, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I’m beginning to think your little hike in the countryside isn’t such a hot idea.”
Bishop shrugged, “I’ll stay here if you don’t want me to go. We can just wait it out until they clear the road.”
Terri considered the point, her mind running through a list of pluses and minuses. “No, I’ll be okay. I’m with you – we need to be sure. Besides, I’ve not been to a wedding in a long time.”
Bishop grinned, “Give my condolences to the groom,” which earned him a punch on the arm.
The couple decided a few more “just in case” steps might be in order. Bishop unhooked the trailer, thinking Terri might need to bug out, even if her progress were limited by the partially blocked road. Bishop doubled-checked her weapon, storing a few extra magazines in both the camper and the cab. He then dug out the radios, verified their battery levels and handed one to his wife.
“Let’s keep in touch,” he said, leaning down to kiss her goodbye. “But not too much. These are public frequencies, and you never know who might be listening.”
“Ahhh, I get it. You want to keep my lust for you a secret,” Terri teased, hoping to break the tension created by the possibility of danger lurking in the woods.
After exchanging a hug and “I love you,” Bishop headed north toward the mountain.
Chapter 12
Camp Pinion, New Mexico
August 1
The ascent proved to be less difficult than he anticipated. From the distant parking lot, it appeared as if the relatively flat valley floor ended abruptly at sheer walls of vertical rock, but that wasn’t reality. Undulations, small mounds, and ever-larger formations of rock provided a transition as his direction increased altitude. The pine forest was thick in this area, enjoying the benefit of drainage from the cliffs and precipices dominating the side of the valley.
