by G. R. Carter
A mighty fortress is our God, a trusty shield and weapon;
He helps us free from every need that hath us now overtaken.
The old evil foe now means deadly woe; deep guile and great might
Are his dread arms in fight; on Earth is not his equal.
At a pause, Oliver thought the song was complete, but it continued. The tune sound familiar, probably from when he was a kid and attended a funeral. But the words were unfamiliar.
With might of ours can naught be done, soon were our loss effected;
But for us fights the Valiant One, whom God Himself elected.
Ask ye, who is this? Jesus Christ it is.
Of Sabbath Lord, and there’s none other God;
He holds the field forever.
Though devils all the world should fill, all eager to devour us.
We tremble not, we fear no ill, they shall not overpower us.
This world’s prince may still scowl fierce as he will,
He can harm us none, he’s judged; the deed is done;
One little word can fell him.
Again they paused, and again they sang:
The Word they still shall let remain nor any thanks have for it;
He’s by our side upon the plain with His good gifts and Spirit.
And take they our life, goods, fame, child and wife,
Let these all be gone, they yet have nothing won;
The Kingdom ours remaineth.
There was a final pause. Oliver looked at the faces surrounding him; many seemed meditative, and others as though they would burst into tears at any moment.
The song leader on the elevated platform spoke with a booming voice. “Brothers and sisters. We come together at sundown each night to remember those already taken into God’s care, and to pray that we hold to the Truth until such time as God calls us Home. May each of us become like a stone in the fortress wall, providing shelter to the innocent and judgment to the wicked. In unison the crowd spoke:
“I thank You, my heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, Your dear Son, that You have graciously kept me this day; and I pray that You would forgive me all my sins where I have done wrong, and graciously keep me this night. For into Your hands I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things. Let Your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no power over me. Amen”
At the “Amen” each man, woman and child crossed themselves, then began to move about in a hurried bustle. Oliver stood stunned. Each night in the City Center of ARK, there was music and a quick recorded message from Tony Diamante, but most didn’t stop to notice. That ceremony was automatic; perhaps once it held meaning, probably the Premier actually spoke the words and conducted the ceremony himself back in the beginning. Oliver couldn’t even begin to recite what the message said or even what was being celebrated. But here? Here he could actually feel it. Maybe the service was new, but he guessed not.
“Every night, Captain,” his guide said. “If that’s what you’re wondering? We celebrate every night at sunset. We’re running a little behind tonight, they were waiting on us, bless their hearts. You’ll see something similar at sunrise—a slightly different prayer and ‘Amazing Grace’ instead of ‘A Mighty Fortress.’”
“Everyone meets down here? What if they’re sick at home or out in the fields? Or on a boat, for that matter?’ Oliver asked, curious about the ritual. Captains were notoriously superstitious about breaking traditions for any reason.
“Only if they can. But anywhere you’ll find a member of the Elect, you’ll see them stop at sundown and sing the song, then make the prayer. Keeps us bound together in spirit even if we’re separated in body. Same as in the morning.”
“I remember something similar in school. Like praying to Mecca?” Oliver asked.
“Not quite. The Elect pray to God, not to a place. But I suppose the idea of reminding oneself you are part of something bigger is similar,” the guide replied. Oliver couldn’t tell if the man was annoyed by the comparison. If he was aggravated, he didn’t readily show it.
What Oliver did notice was that each man who walked by them tipped their hat or nodded their head to his guide. Likewise, each woman smiled and acknowledged him; there were no children younger than teens present that he could see. Finally, one of the men stopped and greeted them formally.
“Senior Elector Huffman, I was asked to come and retrieve you. Elector Lindstrom didn’t suppose you’d care to make the walk all the way up to the top of the hill.
The same chuckle Oliver heard before greeted the driver. “That’s right, son. I’d very much appreciate you taking me up there. And though I’m sure he wouldn’t admit it, I bet Captain Oliver would rather not walk all that ways, he’s had a terrible day.”
Oliver agreed, finally taking the chance to get a good look at him. He wasn’t as old as he had imagined; for some reason he had in his head a seventy-year-old man with a long gray beard, suspenders and a black overcoat with matching hat. Instead, he saw before him a man in his late forties, still with a beard, close kept by post-Reset standards. His glasses and a brown sport coat made him look more like the college professor types he remembered from TV. Instead of an old-fashioned hat, Huffman instead had a slightly receding hairline, surrounded by a salt-and-pepper mix.
Huffman seemed to sense the confusion and caught Oliver’s stare. “Not what you were expecting? Perhaps flowing white robes instead?”
Oliver flushed and shook his head. “No, Mr. Huffman. I apologize, it just took me by surprise you would be the one to meet me down here.”
“I hope you don’t think you’re here to be imprisoned or interrogated, Captain. In my mind today’s circumstances were a tragic mistake. You were no more at fault than my men. I only wish that brave young men didn’t have to die for the mistakes of those claiming to lead them.”
Oliver cast his eyes downward, feeling the burden of the loss.
Huffman stopped and turned to him; Oliver noticed he had yet to let go of his arm. “I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to infer you caused those deaths. It’s been a long day for me as well, and my language gets sloppy when I tire.”
“I didn’t take it that way, Mr. Huffman.”
Huffman let loose Oliver’s arm as they sat down on the rear facing back seat of a motorized golf cart with large turf tires. A high-pitched engine revved up and the vehicle lurched forward.
“We’re producing ethanol,” Huffman offered to the unasked question. “We only allow vehicles like these in the downtown area, larger vehicles are kept out on the farms and for hauling supplies.”
The cart rocked back and forth across uneven streets, past brick buildings brightly lit by the standards of the day. “Electricity comes from coal, which we used to import from Little Egypt. When Governor Olsen took over, he raised the prices dramatically, so we’ve been digging our own wherever we can find it,” Huffman continued.
“That’s why you’ve been expanding out? Why we came across your boats today?” Oliver asked.
“A good guess, Captain, but not exactly. We’re expanding because your government is becoming increasingly belligerent towards us. Causing our once-close allies to turn on us.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Huffman. I don’t follow your meaning.”
“We—the ones you call the Buckles, I mean—were once the Red Hawk Republic’s closest allies. But when Founder Hamilton let Eric Olsen take over Little Egypt, the relationship became more complex. Republic ties with ARK also made things more difficult,” Huffman said.
“I don’t understand how that affects you,” Oliver replied.
“Because your boss Diamante hates us. Partially for religious reasons. But mostly because we didn’t agree to become a satellite of his. He wants this river to himself,” Huffman said with a wave back towards the seawall. “He’s expanded ARK for hundreds of miles west, and north all the way up to the Caliphate lands. But here we sit just a few hours south, sticking out like a sore thumb on his map.”
“I’m sor
ry, sir, I don’t know anything about all that. I thought I was hunting river pirates,” Oliver said.
“I understand, Captain. You have to worry about being out on the water, surviving day to day. But let me ask you this, don’t you think your armored ships are a little expensive to be hunting pirates?” Huffman asked.
“Not when the pirates have rifles that will take your head off. In fact, I think that armor’s just about right.”
Huffman laughed sincerely. “Good point, Captain. Very true. Been a few years since I had to shoulder a weapon. Once we held off the mobs out of St. Louis right after the Reset, but I haven’t had to fight like you have. I apologize for taking the threats you face so lightly.”
Oliver found himself disarmed by the Senior Elector’s sincere nature. Of all the stereotypes he possessed of who the Buckles’ leader might be, “snooty and righteous” would have topped the list.
The cart slowly wound its way up the hill, finally reaching a courtyard surrounding a fountain. Light sparkled as the water danced, shooting up fifteen feet in the air. “Not quite as impressive as the one at Renaissance Place, I know,” Huffman said with a smile. “Though I daresay ours was here first. A bit of an indulgence, but we can’t live devoid of art. We’re made to appreciate beauty, both manmade and natural.”
He stepped off the back of the cart holding out a hand for Oliver’s uninjured arm to grasp as he got up. Huffman paused for a moment. “Captain Oliver inside are the Board of Electors who make up the leadership of Mt. Horab. One of the reasons I wanted to meet you at the river was so that I could get your measure, I’m sorry if you took it as deceptive. I know you’re smart, so my observation probably doesn’t come as a surprise to you,” he said, dipping his head slightly to confirm the understanding.
Oliver returned the gesture.
“Some of the men on the Elector Board are very angry with your boss—Premier, forgive me, I still have trouble calling ARK a nation—and the things he’s been doing. I have warned them not to take ARK’s actions out on you. I threatened to make them pray all day in St. Vincent’s Chapel if they broke their promise!” Oliver looked at the man to see if he was joking, relieved Huffman was able to poke fun at the stereotypes of his people. “I guarantee there will be absolutely no physical harm that comes to you, but please know you will feel a distinct chill from some in the room.”
“Not very Christian, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Oliver said. The pain medication was wearing off, leaving him sharper of wit but edgier from the aching.
Huffman patted Oliver on his good shoulder. “My dear Captain, I think you may need to put aside some of the stereotypes of the Elect. The only way we’ve been able to save all these people is to be strong. Like the Teutonic knights, or the United States during World War II, we’ve had to kill bad people to keep the innocent from being killed.”
“Sounds like you’ve practiced justifying your actions.”
“That’s what I would have thought before the Tribulation. I was a non-believer, thought anyone religious was a hypocrite or an idiot. Someone to be scorned. I was a professor here at the college—”
“I figured as much,” Oliver broke in.
“Yeah I suppose that’s one stereotype I really do fit! I had it all, I thought. Big paycheck, great house and cars, nice boat. Able to afford all that and a healthy child support and alimony payment. Well respected by my peers and a big UNASA grant using satellite data to for climate study. Really on top of the world, you know?
“One day I noticed a big bruise on my arm. Started losing energy. I got sick, really sick, and ended up in and out of the hospital. When they passed the Reboot legislation – seems like a million years ago now - everything started closing up in small towns like this one. We lost the university and I lost my job. I was too sick to try and get another position elsewhere. Then the local hospital closed. Instead of being able to transfer to a hospital in St. Louis, Health and Human Services cut me off, told me to go to hospice and make myself ‘comfortable’ in my final days.”
“That sounds about right. Lost my father in nearly the same way. So much for ‘no patient left behind,’ huh?” Oliver added.
With a sad smile Huffman said, “So that’s what I did. Got ready to die. Drafted my will, said goodbye to my ex-wife and kids, and settled in to wait for the end. I was accepted into a hospice organized by the local Lutheran Church. Only a handful of members left, but their mission was to help take care of those who no one else cared about.”
“They converted you when you were at your weakest.”
“No. Never once said anything to me about their faith. Didn’t ask for so much as a prayer…or a donation, if that’s what you’re going to ask next!” Huffman said.
Oliver was caught in mid-utterance by the joke. He quickly switched to a different challenge. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you all made it through the Reset unscathed, a miracle or something like that?”
“Hardly. Almost every single one of them were slain not long after everything fell apart.” Oliver stood shocked by the twist and Huffman’s matter-of-fact delivery. For the first time, he watched the man show a sign of his faith, crossing his chest as he fought back tears.
“Why didn’t God protect them?” Oliver asked.
“Because, Captain, they were too busy protecting me! God gave them a choice, and they chose His Way! They hid those too sick to flee…stashed us away in all sorts of spots. By the time they finished taking care of us, it was too late for them to get away.”
“Away from who?” Oliver asked.
“Can’t really tell you who they were. Just some mob out of St. Louis. Said they were headed south to warmer weather since there was no way to stay warm around here. Took everything of value, raped and killed everyone they could get their hands on. Including my angels, the ones who saved me,” Huffman said.
“I guess you blame ARK for sending those people here? We’re the devil and that’s why you hate us?”
“I don’t hate you, or your boss. See, Captain, I’ve come to believe in something real since that terrible time. I believe I’ve been wrong about religion, mine in particular. I thought talk of the end times, call it Tribulation or Rapture, was a lot of hocus-pocus. But I think we misunderstood what the Bible said about it,” Huffman replied.
“I apologize for my ignorance of your faith, but I don’t know much about the Rapture. Just a little from some movies as a kid,” Oliver admitted.
“Oh right. Sorry. A lot of Christians believed that at the start of the Tribulation (the end of the world, in simpler terms) would be the Rapture; believers would just disappear, be taken up to Heaven in the twinkling of an eye,” Huffman answered with a mocking motion skyward. “Then everyone else would be left behind to face war, disease…all that nasty stuff from Revelations. That’s the last book of the Bible. ‘Apocalyptic’ is what folks used to call it, apocryphal if they were up on their theology.”
“Sounds awful. For those left behind, I mean.”
“Right, more than you know.” Oliver noticed the smile was back, like Huffman was back to telling a story he was always happy to repeat. “I got to talking with a survivor from that church group, the one that helped me before the crazy days began. They made it through by accident, really. Took some older folks into a bank vault to hide because they thought no one could get in!”
Both men laughed at what seemed a ridiculous notion, separated from the terror of the time by so many years passed. Huffman continued. “Funny thing is, that mob didn’t even bother to check out the vault, figured it would already be looted. Which of course it had been. Anyway, after those demons took everything they wanted and left our town a smoldering wreck, the folks from the vault came and found me. I was hiding in a basement dumpster! Nursed me back to health. I had a lot of time to think and read and finally to pray, but on my own terms. My health took a remarkable turn for the better. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t think I was granted some miracle, though I wouldn’t argue it if someone
else thought so.”
Huffman reached for Oliver’s good arm again, grabbing ahold while he peered into his eyes. “I came to believe something real during those days, Captain Liam Oliver,” he repeated. “I came to believe that the Rapture really did occur. But it wasn’t like the movies. See, what you call the Reset was the start of our Tribulation. A reminder that humanity can only drift so far from their Creator before succumbing to Evil. The righteous dead are the fortunate ones; they’ve already received their reward.”
His face creased in the obvious pain of memories, but his eyes glistened in the lamplight. “People like you and me? We live with what happened before, during and since. That’s a burden we carry until we’re relieved of it. We need help to understand that. Some of God’s folks, call them angels if you wish, were left to teach survivors like us what humility really looks like.”
“What happens to the rest of us?” Oliver asked. “What are we supposed to do now?”
Huffman straightened himself again, clearing his voice. “We try every day to bring that message to the world. The message of a second chance…a chance to get right with God. To help your fellow man, not try to manipulate and conquer him like we all did before the Tribulation.”
“You’re saying ARK is trying to rule the world we know now?”
“I do say that! In fact, Captain, I can prove that. The people you are about to face can prove it, too. You’re going to speak at a place we call the Table. All of our leaders will be there, the ones we call the Electors.
“Please understand, they see you as a high-ranking officer of ARK, not as Liam Oliver the man. If we’re going to prevent all-out war between our two countries, they need to recognize the good man I see when I look into your eyes,” Huffman said.