by Jim Balzotti
Hell had broken loose, Matt thought, and the devil walked the earth. How else could you explain this sacrilege in the house of the Lord? “I’ll check, Nicky, but you lie still. How long ago did the Chinese leave?”
“I…I don’t know. Hours ago, I guess.”
Matt laid Nicky’s head down, being careful to keep it elevated, and told him not to move. He had lost some blood, but he figured he should be okay. Matt moved slowly among the bodies, carefully moving them apart. Most of the townspeople were here. He knew some of the men had gone off deer hunting yesterday, as it was opening day in Maine and they were eager to fill their freezers before the winter blew in. This was usually the only Sunday during the year folks missed Mass with Father O’Mallory’s blessing. He found Nicky’s mother and father in one of the front pews and could see that they were dead. His father had numerous bullet holes in his back as a result of his attempt to shield his family. He checked the other bodies, careful to see if anyone else was alive. They weren’t.
Matt walked back outside to Nicky, picked him up, and carried him out to his truck, laying him down across the front seat. How could God allow this in His own house? As he closed the truck door, a dented black pickup truck with oversized tires slid into the lot. Matt ran out and grabbed George Comeau as he headed to the church.
“No, George, you don’t want to go in there.”
“Where’s Abby?” he asked, his voice rising in panic. “I know what happened! I’m going to kill every one of those cowards!” George was a native Maine farm boy…big and strong. In his college days he had played offensive tackle for the University of Maine’s Black Bears and had a clear path to the NFL. His dream of playing for the New England Patriots was dashed while playing against Amherst his senior year. He ripped a ligament in his right knee tackling the running back and was carted off the field in a stretcher. He ended up having two surgeries, but they couldn’t completely repair the damage, so no pro team would take a chance on him now. Matt always gave George credit as he never wallowed in self-pity. He would say that God just had other plans for him, and he joked he probably would have gotten drafted by some crummy team like the New York Jets anyway. So he put his glory days behind him with a shrug and moved on with his life. Now, like most people who lived in the north woods, he did a few jobs to get by. He ran a lumbering operation for most of the year, and then in the fall he guided hunters seeking the elusive black bear.
“Is she in there?” he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.
He was talking about Abby, his high school sweetheart and wife of two years. “I don’t know, George. I don’t know” George walked into the church, hesitant, fearful of what he might find. Matt heard a loud wail come from within the church. A moment later George appeared, carrying Abby gently in his arms, her black hair flowing lifelessly toward the ground. “I’m going to kill every one of those heathens! I swear to God!”
“I think God has seen enough killing, George. Let’s put her down and lay her to rest. I know the hatred you have in your heart right now, but we need to worry about them coming back and finishing the job. I have a wounded kid in my truck, and God knows how many people were not in that church. We have to round up everyone quickly and get out of here. The Chinese know we’re here now, and they know we’ve broken their law, so I don’t know why they left, but you know they’ll be back. They left some of their dead out front. So you go get your backhoe, and I’ll bring the rest of the bodies out of the church, and we’ll give them a proper burial. It’s what Abby would have wanted. When I’m done, I need to go home and tell Mom, and we both need to round up every person left standing. We can meet here at the church at five o’clock. We need to hurry.”
“Okay, Matt.” George carried his wife tucked in his arms, as if she might still awaken, to the cemetery behind the church, laying her body gently on the grass. He smoothed her crumpled dress and her blood-soaked hair, gently caressing her face. Not bothering to fight back the tears that fell freely, he whispered something to her softly, then tore himself away and drove off in his truck to get his backhoe and hunting rifle. The rifle first.
Matt continued to carry the bodies out of the church and lay them side by side on the hallowed ground. By the time he was done, George had come back with a small group of neighbors accompanying him. George took his backhoe and, in an untouched corner of the cemetery, dug a wide grave. With great sorrow and anguish, cursing threats against the men who did this, they respectfully laid all the bodies down in it. They put the body of Father O’Mallory at the head, the shepherd still watching over his flock. George slowly covered the bodies with dirt.
“Matt, will you say a few words?” someone asked. “Something should be said.”
“Dear Lord, please take the souls of these good people, wrongfully taken from Your Earth, into Your kingdom. Bless them and hold them tight to Your bosom, until we are able to join them again in Your kingdom in heaven. Amen.”
A few of the men helped George as they smoothed over the dirt that covered the bodies. Someone placed flowers on the mass grave. Others stood around, not sure what to say or do. When they finished, Matt called them together.
“Okay. I know you seek vengeance, but that belongs to God, not you. What we need to be concerned with now is that we must leave town. We are no longer safe here. The Chinese will come back, and when they do, it’ll be to finish the job.”
“Let them come,” George said, raising his rifle. “We have enough men and women to defend ourselves. This is our home!” A few of the remaining men clutching their own rifles yelled their assent.
“I know what you’re feeling, George. We all do. But we are no match for the Chinese soldiers. This time they’ll probably come with armed helicopters. Do you really want to see these people killed?” Matt asked as his eyes swept across the group of people before him.
“What can we do, Matt?” someone asked.
Matt had become a deacon in the church years ago. He decided that becoming a priest was not his calling, but he still wanted to serve both God and the people in his community. So he studied and became a deacon with Father O’Mallory’s blessing, assuming some of the duties of the church. He was a respected member and regarded as a friend to all in town. He now became the de facto leader of the surviving townspeople, both religious and otherwise.
“We can’t stay here. That’s for certain. We need to get out of sight and hole up somewhere. Then, when we’re safe, we can figure out what to do. First, let’s organize into groups that have specific tasks. George, you take four men and go into all the stores and get every bit of survival equipment you can. Not just necessarily guns. I’m talking about cold weather camping gear, boots, socks, fishing equipment, lanterns, sleeping bags, knives, ropes, tarps, binoculars, freeze-dried food, and propane stoves, and as much propane and lantern fuel as you can carry. We only have one shot here, guys. We’re not coming back. Better grab two or three canoes, paddles, and life vests. We’ll need as much medical equipment and supplies as we can find. We’re on our own medically speaking—there’ll be no hospitals. Don’t go crazy with the guns, but get as many long rifle 22s and bullets as you can get your hands on. It’ll be the 22s that will feed us, not the bigger calibers, but get a few of those as well for deer. Bottom line, this is our only opportunity to stock up. After today, it won’t be safe to return.”
“Where are we going, Matt?” a woman asked.
“We’ll head to a spot I know where my dad took me as a boy. It’s very remote, but we can get close to it by truck. Then we’ll have to hoof all the supplies in, but there’ll be fresh water, and if the forest is dense enough, the Chinese won’t see us by air. After a week, with this weather, our trail will be impossible to follow.”
“What if the Chinese come back and follow the trail?” someone asked.
“Then we’re in God’s hands,” Matt answered.
“Then we’ll shoot as many Chinese as we can,” George sneered, his heart screaming with rage and pain.
; “No! We won’t!” Matt barked. “The killing stops now. Only God has the right to take a life, and if any of you don’t agree, then you can stay here and wait for the Chinese. I’m sure they’ll be back and glad to oblige you, and then you can kill each other.”
The group looked around, searching each other’s faces, full of confusion and questions. “Okay, Matt,” George said, nodding to the group. “We have women and children here. They need to be safe. Anyone firing off their guns at the Chinese will just get us all killed. Matt’s right.”
“Okay then. Mary, you get some of the ladies and go house to house getting warm clothes, especially for the kids. Put them in large trash bags. Grab some kitchen pots and pans, some knives, forks…well, you know. Anything and everything you think we could use. If you’re not sure, grab it anyway. Make piles in front of every house, and the men can come by in their trucks and load it. Take whatever medicines you have. Think, people! Focus and think! Our lives depend on it! It’s a clear night. We work until dark, and then in the morning we load up and hit the back roads. Fill all the vehicles with gas and any spare gas cans, but don’t forget the matches and candles.”
“Matt felt that he was all over the place, too many thoughts exploding in his head at the same time. He looked around and said to no one in particular, “God will take care of us.”
The Next Morning
One thing you can say about people who live and work in the country—they know how to put their back into it to get things done.
Matt looked around at the group of people assembled near their vehicles, which were now loaded to the gills with supplies. He could see that some of the children brought toys, and that was okay. With their lives uprooted so violently, they needed these childhood items of comfort. Some brought pictures and photographs, one brought a rather ugly paint-by-numbers oil of Elvis that had been done by his wife, who was killed in the attack at the church. While some of the items seemed impractical, it also told Matt that they took his warning of the possibility of not ever being able to return home again seriously. They could lug the stuff.
He counted eleven men including himself, fourteen woman, and a few who were seniors like his mom, and eighteen kids of different ages. “God is with us, and He will protect us. But just as He doesn’t put the worm in the bird’s mouth, it’s up to us to take care of each other. We are going deep into the woods…not a strange place for any of us. We grew up here, hunting, fishing, and camping. We know how to survive. God filled the forest with plenty of game and fish to eat. Wood to burn for warmth. Water to drink. I don’t know why God chose us or this path, but He is with us. Father O’Mallory always told us that God is everywhere—not just in our church, where we paid homage to Him, but in every tree and under each rock. “
“George, I will lead our caravan to our new home. I want you to take up the rear so we don’t lose anyone, and also keep an eye out for anyone who might be following us.”
“Matt?” a woman called to him. “I brought every last bit of coffee grounds I could find!”
“See!” Matt laughed, providing a much-needed bit of humor. “God truly does provide!”
With that, Matt slid in his old red Ford pickup truck and drove out of the church’s parking lot. He glanced once more at the church, the grave of his father and now his neighbors, and turned away, never to return.
November 2026
Trek into the Wilderness
Like Moses leading his tribe out of Egypt, Matt would lead a group of forty-plus souls of men, women, and children into the deep wilderness of Maine.
They would drive northeast out of the last town in northern Maine and follow an old logging road called the Telos Road, a dirt road full of ruts and blow downs, going no more than fifteen miles an hour. Any faster and they would risk breaking an axle. It was only fifty or so miles until they would come to the Ripogenus Dam—or the Rip Dam, as the locals called it—which until bankruptcy had belonged to the Great Northern Lumber Company. It stood at the mouth of a rock walled canyon of the great Chesuncook Lake and was used to provide hydroelectricity for the paper mills in Millinocket. When the paper mills closed, the dam, being so far out in the wilderness with no sizable towns nearby to service, stood dormant, like a large stone man with no place to go.
When they reached the dam, Matt called a halt to give everyone a chance to stretch their legs and go to the bathroom. He joined up with George and walked to the long-abandoned control building, now with its windows busted, and leaning slightly to the left. Grass had grown in the doorway as nature sought to reclaim what was rightfully hers.
“After we cross the Rip Dam, there won’t be anything for five hundred miles,” Matt said to George as they overlooked the dam. “What concerns me is that if the Chinese are determined to follow us, they only have to follow this road, and sooner or later, they’ll find us.”
“Then we need to blow the dam. It would flood the road going south, and then nothing could get through. The only thing is, Matt, if we do this, there is no going back. We just destroyed the only way in or out. Your call.”
“George, ever since I was a boy, I knew I was in God’s hands. I always believed in Him and trusted His judgment. I believe He has a plan for us and there’s a reason we are here now and heading up this path. So let’s put ourselves completely in God’s hands and open the main valve on the dam and flood it.”
Matt and George gathered everyone around and told them what they intended to do. As most of them were still shell shocked at the preceding events, no one said a word, trusting their judgment. Most feared the Chinese more than being stranded in the wilderness. They moved their caravan of trucks and cars loaded down with all their worldly possessions forward and up the road north of the dam where they would be safe from the flooding waters. Matt and George rode back down to the main control shack and found all the electrical automation rusted with disuse. Using a sledgehammer and a lot of sweat, they were finally able to manually open the main lock to the dam, letting the millions of gallons of water rush out, flooding Telos Road and the land below.
They stood side by side, silently watching the water rush forward, saying a final good-bye to the life that they knew was gone forever. George held back tears as he thought about his wife whom he would never hold again, the child they would never have. Matt stood silently beside him, not knowing how it must feel to lose a wife, and chose not to say inadequate words. They nodded to each other, got back into their trucks, and headed deeper into the woods.
December 2026
Wilderness Camp
Matt walked around the camp pleased. The site they chose was within view of Gray Brook Mountain, next to Long Lake, which would give his “family” fresh water and fish, with the surrounding forest teeming with game for food. The thick overhead canopy of pine trees would provide security from any Chinese helicopter that might fly overhead. Unlike the deciduous trees that would shed their leaves in winter, the pine trees would give them protective cover year round. They carefully drove their trucks and cars into a thick, impenetrable grove where they could not be seen by air, taking the extra precaution of covering them with dirt and pine branches.
Using the canvas tarps taken from town, they built wall tents good enough to keep people dry for the time being. He charged some of the men with the task of cutting down trees and constructing more permanent structures. Both women and men were charged with the urgent task of gathering firewood for cooking and heat to get them through the severe Maine winter. He built a smoke house, and while game was still plentiful, began curing meat and fish they caught. As animals began to hibernate for the winter, hunting would become much more difficult. Fresh water, thank God, would not be a problem, although they would have to chop through the ice with axes to get at it. In this part of Maine, the ice could get eighteen inches thick and could begin to freeze in October. Once the shelters were taken care of, Matt built a structure large enough to house everyone. This would be their church and communal meeting house. It was an open-air buil
ding for now, with just a roof to keep off the rain and snow. He found four large pine trees, almost forming a perfect square, and ran a rope eight feet high around them, covering it with a blue nylon tarp. Ugly but effective. On one of the trees, he hand carved the Ten Commandments; on the others, a simple cross carved into the bark facing inward to remind everyone that Jesus had died to take away their sins. Here they would celebrate Mass, in addition to hosting community meetings and sharing meals together.
Blended families began to form, only naturally. Children were taken in and cared for, some to parents who had lost their own in the massacre. Some survivors who had lost their spouses began to seek the comfort they had once known. Matt abstained but was not judgmental to those who did not. It was a human condition to love and be loved. He believed he had taken a silent oath to God and remained alone. One woman, who had been a teacher in town, set up a schedule of classes for the children. While she would teach them English and math and such, some of the men would teach the boys and girls alike how to survive in the wilderness. Matt would hold Bible classes every Sunday after they celebrated Mass. He thought that ironically, they were returning to a natural order of life. Living off the land, taking care of each other, and worshipping God.
As Matt watched the men, women, and children that now comprised his family, a feeling came into his body and mind. It was a guiding light from God. He had always felt the hand of God on his shoulder, comforting him and advising him, showing him the way. He knew that his future and the future of his family were already written.
God looked over them, and they would be all right.
Fall 2028
Northern Maine
Watching the Chinese soldiers’ brains splatter over the fallen leaves, a gruesome kaleidoscope of reds and pinks and whites, stirred no emotion in Lawrence. It brought no relief or satisfaction, nor did any of the hundreds he had previously executed. One of the Chinese was young, barely a man, his ill-fitting clothes hung loosely on him as he lay crumpled in the dirt. His eyes in death bulged wide in fear as red spittle dripped out of his mouth. A hundred more or a thousand more would not bring Lawrence closure. It was not something he sought. A million Chinese executed by his hand would not bring Amy back to him. So he kept his hatred stoked, feeding it as if it were a separate being alive within his chest, poking it, and feeling the acidic bile rise from his stomach and burn in his throat. It was how he kept the memory of Amy alive, fresh in his daily thoughts. He knew she wouldn’t approve of his vengeful killing. She would rather he disappear into the wilderness to live out the rest of his life in peace; but he couldn’t. Only his death would bring him closure and reunite him with Amy. He wrestled with his religious beliefs. How could a loving God so cruelly rip the only thing he cared about from him? Why was he not killed too? Was he being punished for the killings he had committed while being a soldier? Weren’t the deaths of terrorists justified? How could He let the Chinese mass murder so many innocents? Hoping to be reunited with Amy in death was a thought he had to believe in. Kindness and compassion had to be left behind; it would get him and his men killed. He only hoped God could see whatever good was left in his heart, where he could see only blackness. This fiery burning ember of hate was what kept him alive and enabled him to get up in the morning. He knew his men were weary. Tired of being hunted, living like a pack of wild wolves in the forest. They were soldiers and had all suffered a great loss at the hands of the Chinese. Still patriots to a country that no longer existed. A self-serving government that weakened the United States so much that it had toppled without a fight. He and his men forged their mutual respect and friendship that often develops by soldiers facing death in combat side by side. Each knowing that their mission would end in death, sooner rather than later.