Divided We Stand (What's Left of My World Book 4)

by C. A. Rudolph

  “After we helped them out, they told us if we ever needed anything, they’d return the favor. So, once every month or so, we make a trip out to visit them. We’ve delivered a few bunches of refugees to them already and they’ve welcomed all of them in with open arms—even asked when we were planning on bringing more of them. I suppose they really enjoy the company.” He paused, using his finger to take a quick head count. “Looks like we’re about due to make another trip.”

  “Pendleton County, huh?”

  “That’s affirm.”

  “I’ve spent a few hours there.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Dave remarked. “The farm is near a spot called Germany Valley, a several klicks south of Seneca Rocks. I think you’ll like it. It’s a prospering, well-protected area, replete with hardworking folks—lots of good guys, Janey. There’s even a righteous militia there—they call themselves the Sons of the Second. They’ve been protecting those acres for decades, living rather primitively at that, and the collapse really didn’t change much for them. Thanks to the magic Neo’s been making on the radio, we’ve been getting to know them.”

  “You know, tomorrow is Christmas,” Lauren said, taking in a breath. “What an incredible gift that would be for the kids, to bring them somewhere they can call home, with people around who can care for them, protect them, and maybe raise them.” She paused, giggling. “Maybe we could exchange gifts. We do have our own personal Santa.”

  Dave nodded. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

  Chapter 31

  Pendleton County, West Virginia

  Saturday, December 25th. Present day

  Several miles into the trip after leaving Route 220 in Petersburg, the convoy passed through the long-abandoned town of Hopeville and crossed over into Pendleton County just as it started to snow.

  The feathery showers of flakes had made it the first white Christmas Lauren could recall in a number of years. She had chosen to ride shotgun with Santa on this trip and had her window rolled down so she could catch snowflakes, allowing them to smack into her hand and melt into moisture immediately thereafter.

  The vehicle Santa had chosen as his own was a 1977 Ford Bronco wagon, in amply distinct baby blue, the same one Lauren had used to seat herself while she’d gorged on the first filling meal she’d had in days. It was a true, well-maintained, vintage automobile, having no electronics or computerized anything to speak of. As such, it had remained undamaged by the effects of the electromagnetic pulse that had sent so many modern models to their final resting places.

  From the ignition on the steering column dangled a set of keys and a photo keychain bearing a snapshot of a man with silvery hair standing with a woman who appeared to be his wife. A picnic table sat in the background and was covered in paper plates littered with food. The man was wearing a uniform with a chrome badge pinned to it, while his wife wore a simple sundress with a flowery print and had on a pair of glasses, the frames of which coordinated well with her dress. Both were smiling like they had been two of the happiest people on earth, and while Lauren considered the photo, she wondered what their fate might have been.

  Santa reached for the climate-control knobs and fiddled with them. “Miss Jane, would you kindly roll that window up? I’m on the verge of freezing my nuts off.”

  Lauren giggled.

  “Hey, that shit’s not funny,” Santa said, squinting his eye at her. “When we get to the farm, I’m going to get underneath the hood and see why this heat ain’t working worth a damn. No way I’m putting up with this all winter.”

  Lauren pulled her arm inside and reached for the handle to roll the window up. “The last Santa I spoke with told me he liked the cold…you know, being from the North Pole and all.”

  Santa eyeballed her from his peripheral. “That Santa sure as hell wasn’t me. I grew up in gulf coast Florida near Clearwater. One of these days, I’m taking my happy ass back there. I don’t know how anybody deals with the weather at this latitude.”

  Lauren shrugged and wiped the wetness from her hand on her pant leg. “You might as well get used to it. Winter just started. It’s only going to get colder.”

  Santa sighed. “Guess I’ll have a talk with Dave, then. I might have to book a flight and head south for the winter.”

  “Really? And leave me here all by my lonesome?”

  “Hell no. You’d go with me…if you wanted to go, that is. I could use a good sidekick down there. We could beach every day and work on our tans. And you could keep me out of trouble.”

  Lauren sniggered. “That’s a full-time job.”

  “Darlin’, you ain’t shittin’.”

  The convoy continued for several miles along the slippery, untreated road, which was becoming more precarious by the minute as the frozen precipitation continued to fall at an enhanced rate. At times, the squalls would blow across the road under the power of gale-force winds, spawning whiteout conditions and bringing the overall speed of the convoy to a crawl.

  Upon reaching a sign on the left that read ‘Little Germany Farms and Orchard’, the convoy turned onto a narrow gravel driveway while making cavernous track marks in the snow. They passed through an open gate and continued along the lane through a dense apple orchard until reaching the end of the driveway, stopping at a large brick colonial-era farmhouse with a tin roof and a massive red-painted barn out back.

  There were fields as far as one could see on either side and behind the house. Beyond the field in the rear was a tree line marking the boundary where the Potomac River meandered through the property. The entire farm shared a westward-facing backdrop with North Fork Mountain and was enclosed by the Monongahela National Forest on all its flanks.

  Santa shut the Bronco’s engine off, and Lauren hopped out so she could get a feel for her surroundings. It didn’t take any time at all for the snow to cover her clothing and hair.

  The bearded one got out and popped the hood on the truck, shutting his door behind him. “The mister and missus should be out to greet us before long,” Santa said. “It never takes them more than a few minutes, even when they’re up to their ears in work, which is most times.”

  Lauren stepped to the front of the truck and turned to him, a curious look adorning her face. “Where is everyone else? The place looks vacant.”

  Santa shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s Christmas. They could be in the house or in that barn over there or out in the fields somewhere.” He pointed over the hood of the truck to where a row of olive green military surplus tents had been set up in the field not far away. “That’s where the kids have been staying.”

  Lauren’s eyes followed his gesture to the tents, all of which had chimneys busily puffing out wood smoke from their respective tents’ apexes.

  A party comprised of Dave Graham, Woo Tang, Sanchez, and a few others approached from behind. As they marched by through the blanketing snow, Dave tapped Lauren on the shoulder. “Come on, walk with us. I want you to meet these fine folks.”

  Lauren followed the group across the snow-covered grass and walkway to the front porch of the farmhouse. She could hear a dog’s rowdy bark inside, signaling their approach. When they reached the first step, the barking switched to a mixture of whining and heavy panting. The front door drew inward, the storm door was thrust ajar as if unlatched, and a medium-sized brown retriever took off like a shot through the entryway and lunged at the group of visitors, his tail wagging with delight.

  The dog tackled Dave first, jumped on Woo Tang, licked Sanchez’s hands, then bolted past Lauren in the direction of the convoy.

  An elderly man made his way briskly to the porch, yelling, “Dammit, Cyrus! Get back in here, crazy mutt!”

  Lauren didn’t hesitate. She turned and gave chase. “I’ll get him.”

  The old man squinted and neared the edge of the porch. “Thank you kindly.” He had on a pair of glasses with paper-thin lenses that hung on the tip of his nose, and was wearing well-worn, soiled coveralls that draped over a pair of scuffed-up
, marred hiking boots. Underneath a green John Deere brand baseball cap, his face displayed a toothy grin, bushy eyebrows, and plenty of wrinkles. “Well…what do we have here?” he asked in a brisk, youthful-sounding voice. “Visitors? On Christmas? At this hour?”

  Dave ascended the stairway to the porch and strode to him with an outstretched hand. “We were in the neighborhood. Figured you could use the company.”

  “That so?” The old man took Dave’s hand. “Well, I suppose today is as good as any other day. Merry Christmas to you.”

  “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you and yours as well.”

  The older man angled his hat backward after bidding identical greetings to the others. “The militia boys didn’t give y’all any trouble on the way in, did they?”

  Dave squinted. “I was meaning to ask you about that. We didn’t see any sign of them. Did you give them the day off or something?”

  The old man placed his hands on his hips and chuckled. “I declare—they probably saw the snow coming and said heck with it. They’ve been working hard lately, even more so than usual. There’s been a few skirmishes in the past week or so, nothing too awfully precarious. No casualties, thank the good Lord. But still enough to get our hearts pounding. Especially my better half’s.”

  Dave nodded his head and tensed. “Barring what the weather decides to do, we’ll be hanging around for a few days, so if there’s anything we can do to help out while we’re here, just let us know. And if you wouldn’t mind letting the Sons know we’re here, I’d appreciate it. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”

  The elderly man nodded his head. “No problem at all. I’ll put the word out. You gentlemen make yourselves at home. Ruthie and the girls have a big Christmas dinner planned this evening with all the trimmings, or at least as many of them as we can muster. You’re all welcome at our table, Dave, you know that.” He paused, casting a stare at the convoy parked in his driveway. “I take it you brought me another load of expats?”

  “That is affirmative.”

  “What’s the head count this time?”

  Dave gave him the figure.

  “I see,” the old man said, licking his teeth. “That’s quite a few more mouths to feed.” He paused. “But each mouth comes with two hands we can use around the farm.”

  “I apologize for the timing. If I had my choice, I would’ve picked any other day,” Dave remarked.

  “David Graham, as I’ve told you before, it’s not a problem. You’ll always have a place here. You bestowed upon us something awful special…a debt that can never be repaid. You and your men put your lives on the line for us. There’s no greater sacrifice.” He paused. “So enough jawin’. Let’s get those kids inside and warm ’em up. I just put a fresh load of wood in the stove, and it’s pipin’ hot.”

  After chasing the rambunctious dog all the way to the final vehicle in the convoy, Lauren caught up with him at the point he decided to take a dive and roll around in a snowdrift. She belly-flopped beside him, and he jumped on top of her, noticing he had a new playmate.

  The animal put his pinkish nose in Lauren’s face and pushed her backward, then proceeded to lick every inch of her face and neck while he made gentle, playful growls.

  “Oh, boy,” Lauren squealed, pushing his face away. “You’re a mess! But you’re so pretty, aren’t you? Sorry, I mean handsome.” She sat up and rubbed his coarse brown fur, pulling on his face and ears while he offered her his paws. “Yes, you are. Shiny teeth, too. And you have the softest furry ears I’ve ever felt.”

  Lauren rose and called to him, then ran back to the farmhouse, the dog following her through the snow in a full-on gallop.

  Once they reached the porch, the animal ran up the stairs and jumped on his master. The old man pulled a treat from his pocket and coerced him indoors with it. “Sorry about that…he’s only about a year old, so he’s just as full of stupid as he is energy. I appreciate you goin’ and gettin’ him.”

  Lauren examined the old man curiously. Since the point he’d opened his mouth and began to speak, she knew she’d heard his voice before. Watching his movements and gesticulations, she started to recognize him.

  As the elderly man’s eyes turned and intercepted her gaze, they grew wide with astonishment, and that was when Lauren knew without a doubt who he was, because she could see that he recognized her, too.

  Dave held out an open hand. “Lauren, I want you to meet—”

  “Bernie,” Lauren blurted out. “It’s Bernie, isn’t it?”

  The old man nodded after a moment as his mouth fell open, displaying some missing teeth. His wrinkly eyes welled up. “That’s right. Good gracious me…I can’t believe my eyes right now. I mean, how can this possibly be? This is just…it’s just too hard to believe.” He held out a trembling hand to her. “Lauren…”

  Lauren smiled and nodded her head while reaching out to shake Bernie’s hand. “Yeah. That’s me.”

  The old man’s eyes filled with tears. “Well, I’ll be damned. I will be damned. Wait until Ruth sees who came to visit us on Christmas.”

  While looking back and forth between the two, Dave said, “I take it the two of you have met before?”

  Both Bernie and Lauren nodded.

  “A couple of years ago,” Lauren explained. “We met on a backpacking trip in Dolly Sods.”

  Bernie held up a finger to Lauren. “Hang on a second, sweetie—just wait right there. Let me go grab Ruthie. She’s not gonna believe this.”

  Lauren watched Bernie disappear back into the house, the storm door smacking the frame behind him. Through the faded, blemished screen, she could see young people milling about busily inside.

  A moment later, a frail older woman wearing an apron poked her head into the door’s frame. Her hair was as white as the snow falling outside and was pulled back tightly into a bun. She pushed the door open and stepped outside while wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Oh, my word,” Ruth said. “I thought the old fart was pulling my leg. It really is you, isn’t it?” She reached for Lauren and pulled her in for a hug that Lauren reciprocated. “My goodness, child. What on earth brings you to these parts? You’re not in any trouble, are you? Please tell me you’re doing okay.”

  Lauren nodded her affirmation while being embraced by Ruth’s strong, yet thin, sinewy arms. “I’m alive. Things have been rough, but I’m here now and amongst friends, and I’m thankful for that.”

  “Well, praise God. Thank you, Jesus.” Ruth pulled away, wiping away thin tears. “I haven’t the faintest idea how you managed to find us after all this time, but welcome to the farm and to our home. Oh…good heavens…I’m sorry. Merry Christmas to you, Lauren. It’s so good to see you again.”

  Lauren smiled, feeling her sentiments catch up with her level of surprise. “Merry Christmas. It’s good to see you, too, you and Bernie. Who am I kidding—it’s taking my breath away right now. When Dave told me about this place…a farm in Pendleton County, I never could’ve imagined any of this.”

  Ruth nodded. “It’s a small world. My daddy always told me that…that’s why he also told me to treat people the way I wanted to be treated, because you never know when you might run into them again.” She placed her leathery, callused palm onto Lauren’s icy cheek. “You are still so beautiful. Grown up a little bit, though, haven’t you? I can see it in your face and in those splendid chestnut eyes of yours. You look like you’ve matured…maybe even become a woman, since the last time we saw you?” Ruth winked at her.

  Lauren grinned sheepishly. “Maybe.”

  Bernie interrupted them, reaching for his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t be meddlesome, Ruthie. And don’t hog all her time, neither. She just got here. Let’s get them settled in before we start in on them. Dave said he brought us a lot more mouths to feed for Christmas dinner tonight, so we’re gonna need all hands on deck.”

  “Slave driver,” Ruth jeered.

  Bernie pursed his lips. “And then some. I wouldn’t be if you’d stop testin’ my patien
ce…”

  “Mind if I help?” Lauren asked, letting a giggle slip out.

  “Not in the least,” replied Ruth. “We need all the help we can get.” She opened the storm door and gestured for Lauren to step inside and that she would follow. “After you, dear. The kitchen is at the end of the hallway, past the living room on the left and the dining room on the right. It’s a big house, but don’t worry, I won’t let you get lost.”

  Lauren was impressed by the abundance of the dinner Bernie and Ruth had been able to provide their newfound extended family, which included at least seventy young people of all ages, along with a large segment of Dave’s unit. Despite the better part of the country being immersed in trying times, they had followed through with a plan and had not only survived the tribulations, but were thriving in the face of them.

  Lauren had always known that Bernie and Ruth were good-hearted, genuine people. She’d gotten a good feeling from them on the day she’d encountered them, and she knew that feeling was one shared by her father, someone who had been capable of reading people and deciphering human nature better than anyone Lauren had ever known.

  Despite having an overabundance of mouths to feed, everyone had a turn at a seat somewhere in the house and was able to enjoy a larger-than-average plate of food, which included proteins like venison, wild turkey, grouse, and fish, and vegetables like corn, cabbage, carrots, green beans, and brussels sprouts. The options available to them in this day and age baffled Lauren, especially since the majority of the foods she’d been eating as of late were of the dehydrated, freeze-dried, and ready-to-eat variety. Everything served for Christmas dinner in Bernie and Ruth’s home was fresh, having been raised in a pasture, grown from a garden, or caught in a river, and she considered herself extremely blessed for being able to partake of it.