Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star (19 page)

“Sounds like we’re in for a rough night,” Bishop told Terri as the couple sat and consumed dinner. His observation w
as 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 coup
le 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 cov
ered 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.”

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 com
pany, 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 L
ord 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 o
f 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.”

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 subj
ect 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, P
astor, 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, P
astor.”

For the second time in as many days, Bishop worked to set up the camper. It wasn’t a difficult task, one that allow
ed 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 pa
in, a habit he needs to break before you get any older.”

Bishop looked up, only paying half a
ttention 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 moral
e. 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.