by James Ryke
“One portion for each person,” Kate said crisply.
“Serve me one portion, just divide it evenly between the three bowls,” Rick replied.
“That means that someone has to wash two more bowls than they otherwise would have to.”
Rick narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, a tactic that usually worked with other people. Kate’s hard expression did not change.
He changed his tone. “Your name is Kate, right?”
There was no response.
“Well, Kate,” Rick said, forcing the venom out of his voice, “I wash my own dishes. I always do. We both have a lot to do today so don’t hold up the line.”
“You may wash your own dishes, but don’t pretend that you’re making any of this easier on the rest of us. Don’t pretend to have turned into a decent person overnight. And of course I have a lot to do. You’re the one that has given everyone more work than they can manage.”
“If you have a problem, you can speak to your Pastor.”
“He’s not my Pastor—”
Just then, Isaac appeared, smiling broadly at everyone that met eyes with him. His mere presence deflated the tension, and Kate, despite the protests ringing in her brain, portioned out the oatmeal into Rick’s three bowls.
“Morning, Rick,” Isaac said. “Do you have time to talk?”
Rick nodded his head towards the bowls, which were now filled with small portions of oatmeal. “Give me ten minutes to finish my food, and then let’s talk.” Isaac nodded, and Rick turned away, heading towards Isaac’s private office.
Kate, despite herself, could not help but stop Isaac before he too disappeared. “Why does he take three bowls of food? And it’s not just today; it’s every day—I’ve seen him. Why does he need three bowls of food when he’s always eating alone?”
Isaac paused for a few seconds before he answered, “Go easy on him, Kate. He’s gone through a lot.”
***
The three bowls had long since been emptied when Isaac’s gentle but firm knock came at the door. Rick answered, and Isaac entered. The Pastor looked at his brother for a second, trying to judge his mood.
Rick rubbed his face with his hands. “Have a chair. What’s on your mind?”
Isaac sat down. “I came here to find out what’s on yours.”
“Today is the third day,” Rick said, “and there’s a lot to do. I made a list of items that individuals need to get from town. All perishable goods and food items should be seized by now, but most everything else is not. People, if given the opportunity, will loot the stores where electronic crap is kept. It will provide a perfect distraction for the things that we need to get: First, we need books—books on everything from survival to cooking, from planting seeds to building car engines. What we don’t know, we need to make up for in books. Second, we need to visit every local pet shop to get our hands on animal antibiotics, and whatever medication might be useful. Since the Mayor has already seized grocery stores, he has likely taken control over the pharmacies as well. That means we’ll have to look for unconventional medications. I’ve assembled three teams together, which I think will attract the least attention and will be the most successful. The book stores will be deserted, most likely shut down by their owners, and neglected. The individuals will need to secure some shopping carts and get what they can. Make sure they don’t cover the books with blankets or anything: People need to see that they’re carting only books—that way, they won’t be approached by the police or looters.”
“Good plan, but do you think the system will have broken down so quickly? It’s only been three days.”
Rick laughed. “When the LA Lakers win the NBA championship, there are riots. And that’s just to celebrate a game. Most people don’t have more than a few days of water on hand, even less of food. That anxiety is going to fuel the conflict. I’ve seen it first hand in half a dozen countries. You have to trust me on this.”
“I do. Of course, I do.”
“Good. Our next task is to construct an outhouse and secure lime from a home improvement store so we can cover the smell. If we can, we also need to get our hands on shovels, hoes, axes, hammers, and any other tool that might be of use. The tools aren’t as much of a priority, but the lime is a necessity. These are the only people that’ll be allowed to leave the church, with a few other exceptions. Everyone else must stay behind.”
Isaac frowned. “The church is not the most comfortable place to be in the heat of the day. Do you think that’s wise? You were the one that said that people needed to get out there and work, that people needed to gather everything useful. The congregation will go crazy if they don’t have anything to do. What about all the valuable stuff that’s still at people’s houses?”
“We still need that stuff, but I want you only to send out one person from each family to gather it. That way, hopefully, since they’re limited by how many carts they can push, they’ll only take what is essential. Here is a list of items that are needed from the homes.”
“Do you think that’s safe?”
“Send them out in pairs, that way they can help each other. If they go first thing this morning, they should be fine. Only let those people who live close to the church go. No point in drawing too much attention by walking to the other side of town with supplies.”
“People aren’t going to like being trapped here with nothing to do.”
“We need to maintain a low profile. That’s why we trashed the outside of your church on the first day—to make it look like it has already been picked over. If people know what we have here, they’ll try to get their hands on it. They might try begging or asking first, but eventually they will use force. Most importantly, the Mayor cannot know what we have, and if word gets back to him that a host of shopping carts full of supplies are heading back to the same church, it won’t be good for us.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t take anything back to the church. Why don’t we hide it in the forest until it’s dark enough to recover what we hid?”
Rick nodded. “Excellent idea.”
“But what about everyone else? What should everyone be working on? People are already stir crazy as it is. Kids who are used to six hours of television a day have now gone down to zero. With no gaming systems or iPads, or whatever electronic toy is popular nowadays, they’ll turn into a pack of animals. I’m not sure how much more abuse my chapel can take.”
“I can’t help you with the kids, but for the rest of them, we
still have a lot to organize. And, I need to meet with everyone that has had military experience or prior law enforcement or with anyone that has an interest in pulling security.”
“Why? When do you want them?”
“Now.”
***
Each time Isaac met with Rick, he always came away feeling like someone had just poured ice cubes down his back. Rick’s voice was so calm, so straightforward that it would have seemed like he was talking about something benign. It was the context and meaning of the words that shook Isaac to the core. The conversations often left him feeling inadequate and intimidated, especially when he knew he needed to give instructions to his congregation immediately after the discussion. He was their religious leader, but this situation seemed to stretch far beyond his experience.
If it was not for Rosemary’s suggestions, he would have drowned in misdirection. She was, in fact, the reason that the church had functioned so well in years past. About seven years prior, she suggested that the church be organized and arranged into quorums, each quorum consisting of several members who were responsible for each other. Isaac agreed with the idea, hoping that this organization might give each member a feeling of ownership of the church. The organization proved successful but not in the way Isaac had expected. From the quorums, leaders emerged, each one running their distinctive group in different ways. Isaac officially called the leaders “Teachers” and designated two Councilors to assist each Teacher. The organizations began
to function so well that Isaac decidedly called two Councilors for himself. This delegation of responsibility worked efficiently, and Isaac found that all he had to do was communicate with his Councilors what he wanted to have happen. The Councilors, in turn, would talk to each Teacher. Having multiple tiers of leadership made it much easier to hold each member accountable. It also helped Isaac identify key members who might be struggling with various problems. This compelled congregation members, who usually would be lost in the crowd of faces, to have purposeful social interaction every Sunday with at least a few members of the church.
But that was just the beginning of the genius of the church’s organization. Isaac then felt prompted to organize a distinct women’s and men’s group, each one run by an Evangelist and Councilors. The men’s group seemed to perpetually slip on their commitments, but the women’s group became the glue that held the church together. Activities were better organized and planned; relief for poor and needy families was well attended to; weekly service groups were regularly deployed to the community without hiccups. The volunteer organization worked wonders for his church, and now, in this current crisis, it seemed to be a Godsend.
Isaac greeted two members of the congregation warmly, shaking the hand of one individual and patting the shoulder of another. These were Isaac’s Councilors.
Hector Rodriguez, Isaac’s first Councilor, was a second-generation immigrant from Mexico. Despite being born and raised in the United States, he still carried a hint of an accent, which seemed to wax and wane, depending on how many other Hispanics were in the room. He was bilingual, and so were his wife and six kids. He called English his “nice” language because it was what he spoke when he was not swearing. He was the hardest worker Isaac had ever met and a good family man. Despite telling the occasional inappropriate joke from the pulpit and his blunt comments about some of the freeloading members of the congregation, he was perfect for the position.
Ryan McCurdy was Isaac’s second Councilor. He was the opposite of Hector, and, like two equal-sized weights on either side of a scale, the two men seemed to balance each other. He was a police officer, and it showed in his professional attitude, calm demeanor, and perpetually well-groomed appearance. While Hector was typically trying to liven up church socials, McCurdy was always attempting to quiet things down. A person could have two completely different experiences at a church social depending on which of these two men they were standing next to. Despite McCurdy’s quiet nature, he was rumored to routinely compete in illegal bare-knuckle boxing matches. Isaac did not believe the rumors.
“Hey, jefe,” said Hector, “I was worried I would have to go in there and save you from Boss Man—he seems a little long-winded this morning.”
“Can you round everyone up?” Isaac asked.
“Sure,” replied McCurdy, “just the Teachers and Evangelists?”
“No, I want everyone that’s above the age of twelve. They need to hear this.”
***
Isaac took twice as long as Jane did to explain the situation, partly because each point he made also had a scripture to go along with it. The Pastor’s words were well thought out and eloquent, moving some in the crowd to tears, including Isaac himself. When he spoke of the future of the community, he paused, taking in the faces of his congregation. Then in soberness, he conveyed Jane's grim predictions—how the individuals outside the walls of the church faced a high possibility of death. He did not tell the congregation that these thoughts had come from Jane or how many people she predicted would die—this, to him, seemed far too speculative—but he did include a lengthy explanation of how. Isaac then spoke of friendship and hope—he spoke of a brighter future that would be brought out by charity. There were no questions at the end of Isaac’s explanation; everyone instead seemed to be digesting the news. Isaac then passed out a list of chores to designated “Scribes,” who then copied and distributed the sheets of paper to everyone else. After the meeting ended, as prompted by Isaac, several of the men and women wandered to the back of the chapel to enlist themselves in the church security. Isaac and Jacob stood in the front of the crowd that gathered around Rick, who was impatiently waiting for them.
He scanned the faces of each person that approached. He had heard about most of them, but he had only spoken to a few. He knew what they did, how much they made, and who had law enforcement experience. There were about sixty in total, only three of them had any experience with a gun—two had been security guards, one was a police officer.
In front of Rick was an array of weaponry that would have been impressive for a personal collection, but wholly inadequate for the crowd that surrounded him. There were eight M4’s, several dozen magazines—each one loaded with shiny brass .223 rounds, twelve Glock, model 22, .40 caliber pistols, three 12 Gauge KSG’s, and one Kimber, model 1911, .40 caliber pistol. Rick also had set out several gun belts and holsters, most of which consisted of dual ammo pouches and a gun holster.
Rick looked around the room. “I think you all know why we’re here.”
A teenager with a bad case of bed head raised his hand. “Can I hold one of your rifles?”
“No,” Rick growled. “At least not for now.”
“These are illegal firearms,” said a middle-aged man. “Assault rifles were banned years ago: You could get ten years in jail for possession of any one of these firearms. Hell, any one of us could go to jail for not reporting them.”
Rick smiled, “Isaac’s phone is in the kitchen: Why don’t you go give them a call so they can pick them up?”
The man frowned. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
“Where did you get these?” Jacob asked. He suddenly turned to his father, “Dad, you didn’t have these hidden in the church, did you?”
Isaac reeled his head back. “No, of course not. Where did you get these weapons, Rick?”
“They were in my vehicle,” Rick said as he picked up an M4. “These weapons were legally purchased before the assault rifle ban and, since I never registered my guns, the government never knew I had them. The way I figure it—since they never requested to pick them up, these weapons technically don’t exist. Hopefully, some of you have some weapons hidden away somewhere that we can retrieve later.
“But what’s more important is what these weapons represent. They are our freedom. My freedom. Your freedom. Your families’ freedom. As long as there’s at least one weapon in the hands of one of us, our families can live free; our wives will have the freedom from vile abuses; our children will be free to live their lives. But, this freedom comes at a cost that all of you must be willing to pay: One day, you will have to kill; one day, you might be killed yourself. Before I let you pick up one of these guns, you must swear that as long as there’s breath in your body that you will protect everyone that is within these walls. Your family is no longer limited to your wife and kids: You will now be responsible for everyone here.”
“Will that be necessary?” asked a young man with a shaggy beard.
“In this world of uncertainty,” Rick replied quickly as he placed the M4 back down, “we only have the certainty of each other. Yes, it’s necessary. Now, who’s still willing to fight?”
Several of the teenagers raised their hands.
“I don’t know if some of these kids are old enough to know what you’re talking about,” said Anthony Simmons. Anthony had a black bruise around his right eye where Rick had punched him on the first day. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but maybe they shouldn’t be part of this.”
Rick shook his head. “We’re only training now, which would be good for everyone. We can have that conversation when it comes to something more dangerous. Now, who’s willing to take the oath?”
More hands went up until Anthony Simmons was the only one that did not raise his hand. The chubby man looked to his left and right, before reluctantly raising his hand. “This seems extreme—borderline insane, but I’ll play your game, Rick.”
“Fine, but th
is is no game,” Rick said. “The more people we have that are willing to fight, the less likely we’ll end up fighting. Now, we’ll all be taking an oath—an oath similar to what a soldier or Federal Agent takes before they enter into Federal service. This is serious, so don’t take it lightly. I’ll take the oath first, and if any man or woman here thinks that they cannot live up to it, I demand that they leave. I won’t think much of you if you do, but you won’t be held to the oath.”
Rick then stood on top of a church bench, pulled out a notecard from his pocket, raised his right hand, and read the words from the card aloud.
“I swear on the heads of my wife and child to dedicate my strength, my liberty, and if needs be, my last breath for the cause of protecting and preserving the life of everyone in the Congregation.”
Rick finished speaking, his words still ringing in everyone’s ears.
“That’s it?” said the kid with the bed-head.
Rick’s hands clenched into fists, but before he could react, Jacob stepped forward and took the card from Rick. He climbed onto the church bench and cleared his throat. “I’ll go next.” He turned towards the crowd, clearing his throat another time. He then repeated the oath word for word from the card. An awkward silence fell over the group as he finished.
After a few moments, a voice from the back of the crowd rang out. “Jacob, you don’t have a wife or a kid.”
“Well, I just read what was on the card.”
Laughter rang out.
“That was as ugly as a homemade sin,” Old Pete jeered. “You’re supposed to swear on something important to you, like your own life.”
Jacob turned slightly red. He redid the oath, this time nervously swearing on his own life. He then passed the card to another individual who did the same. One by one, the oath was taken until everyone had spoken the words.