Blood of the Faithful

by Michael Wallace

  “Shut up, Chambers,” Miriam said. “If it weren’t for this cult, you’d be dead.”

  Jacob shook his head at the bickering. “Let’s give it a rest, okay?”

  “I’m grateful for that,” Chambers continued. “Doesn’t mean I believe any of this bullshit.”

  “Again, shut up,” Miriam said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Damn straight it does.”

  “Do I have to pull over?” Jacob asked, in his best exasperated-father voice.

  David snorted. Chambers let out a loud, braying laugh. When Jacob glanced over his shoulder, Miriam had an amused, slightly embarrassed look on her face, as if even she realized how ridiculous the argument sounded.

  In the moment of silence, the voices of Steve and Eliza came through from above. They were talking in loud, animated tones. No doubt having their own version of the same argument.

  Chambers turned in his seat. “Hey, how about a game of hearts?”

  “We don’t play with face cards,” Miriam said. “Anyway, where did you get those? You didn’t have them when you came to Blister Creek.”

  “Maybe not everyone in your church is as self-righteous as you,” Chambers said. “You ever think of that? Anyway, I’ve seen you play cards. Before you went all fundie.”

  “Deal me in,” David said. “But you’ll have to remind me of the rules. It’s been a few years.”

  “We need three players. So unless Jacob wants to play while he drives . . .”

  “Fine,” Miriam said. “Deal me in.”

  Jacob let out his breath as they set about playing. He hadn’t actually been joking about pulling over. Ten more seconds of arguing and he’d have made either Chambers or Miriam swap with one of the people at the gun to separate them.

  Jacob’s hopes rose as they continued north. The tiny towns of Circleville and Junction were abandoned, but when they entered Sevier County, the landscape changed. Some of the ranch houses looked intact, and they came across plowed fields.

  “I don’t believe it,” Miriam said. “Someone is still alive up here.”

  A few minutes later, a rider paced them on a dirt road running parallel to the highway, but when Jacob slowed, hoping to speak to the man, the rider turned his horse and rode east toward the mountains. So they continued toward Richfield, a larger town on the southern edge of the Sevier Valley.

  They made it two more miles before they came under fire. The gunfire came from a rocky hill to the right of the road. Logs reinforced one of those snow fences that were meant to keep drifts from sweeping off the plains to bury the road, and gunmen had taken refuge behind it. Bullets pinged off the side of the vehicle.

  Jacob pushed down on the accelerator and left the hill behind. There had been no answering gunfire from the .50-cal above. He was glad for that. If Miriam had been up top, she would have hit that barrier with a devastating return fire. Kill a few people and they’d only make more enemies.

  Then the road ended. A four-foot-wide trench had been gouged across the asphalt surface. As Jacob rolled to a stop in front of it, he saw nail strips on either side. Whoever had done this had extended the trench into the field to keep someone from going off the shoulder and driving around. Beyond that lay two barricades of stacked logs, reinforced with dirt berms. Farther up the highway, two yellow school buses overlapped each other to block the highway a second time. None of it would stop a determined tank, but it stopped them.

  Past the buses lay plowed fields and undamaged houses, then more barricades, a wooden watchtower, and other defensive measures. This was a real town, with survivors holding on against the collapse. If only Jacob could somehow get in there and communicate with those people. He saw nobody, but knew they must be watching. Surely, they’d heard the gunfire up the road, if nothing else.

  “Keep moving,” Miriam said, her tone low and warning. From the backseat came the sound of safeties clicking off.

  “Where, through fields?” Jacob asked.

  “Or back, or something,” Chambers said. “But for God’s sake, don’t just sit here.”

  From outside came Steve’s warning voice. “Jacob!”

  Jacob flipped into reverse. He swung the Humvee around, thinking to drive back a few hundred yards, where he could give it more thought. He wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  But the moment he turned around, a hailstorm of gunfire opened up on the Humvee. It clattered on the sides, dinged against the windows, almost deafening in its ferocity. Jacob tried to pinpoint the gunfire, but at that moment something flashed from one of the barricades on the side of the road. While he watched in horror, a rocket zipped toward them. It flashed over the hood and slammed into the ground eight or ten yards away. It detonated in a flash and bang that rocked the Humvee.

  “Jesus!” Chambers screamed. “That was an RPG. Go! Go!”

  Jacob was already mashing down on the accelerator. The heavy truck slowly picked up speed.

  Only seconds had passed since the gunfire began, but it seemed much longer before Steve opened up with the machine gun. It returned a low thump-thump-thump-thump sound against the chatter of small-arms fire targeting them. An arc of tracer bullets sliced a half circle to their rear, and at once the gunfire diminished. Nobody could keep their heads up against that fire.

  David and Miriam opened up through the gun ports with their assault rifles. No more rocket-propelled grenades chased them down the highway.

  They continued south until they were past the snow fence where they’d first come under fire. About five miles south of that, Jacob finally decided it was safe to stop. This time when they got out, all had armed themselves, and they were studying the rocks and dry hills lining the road, wary of another ambush. But this was national forest land, uncultivated, covered with sagebrush and juniper trees.

  “What the hell was that about?” Chambers said. “Why would they attack?”

  “The same reason we’d attack a Humvee rolling through Blister Creek,” Jacob said.

  “That’s different,” David said. “The government tried to steal our food. You’d think the gentiles would see a military truck and hope it was help.”

  “So the government has tried to steal everyone’s food,” Jacob said.

  Eliza grabbed Steve and pulled him a few feet away. They spoke in whispers.

  Jacob glanced at them, curious, but Miriam was pacing about, looking agitated, and then she came up to him. “I’ll bet the military came through already. Probably those blasted irregulars. You either fight back or they loot and sack your town like they did in Colorado City. Like they tried to do to us. That’s why those people saw a military vehicle and freaked out.”

  “Do we fight our way through or go home?” David asked.

  Jacob shook his head. “I don’t want to fight.”

  “Too late for that,” his brother said.

  “I doubt we killed anyone,” Jacob said. “They were hunkered down behind those berms, and we only fired back for a few seconds.”

  He desperately wanted to make peaceful overtures to the survivors in Richfield. Barring that, to get through and find someone less hostile farther north. On the one hand, he was elated to discover that there was still a town organized enough to defend itself against invaders. On the other hand, he hadn’t been invading. He’d been turning around to reassess. Yet they’d still tried to kill him.

  Or had they? If that grenade had hit, it would have blown a hole in the side of the Humvee. Chances were they’d be dead. But why had they missed? Poor marksmanship? Or had it been a warning shot?

  “So what, we go back home?” David asked.

  “I say we drive across those fields and flank their defenses,” Miriam said. “They can’t stop us. We have a heavy machine gun. They don’t.”

  “You don’t know that,” David said. “Besides, those RPGs are more than enough.”

  �
�Dammit,” Chambers said. “Why’d they have to shoot? I was almost out of here.”

  “I say we try again,” Miriam persisted.

  “Couple of hours ago you thought this was a waste of time,” Jacob said.

  “Now we’ve got a chance to get rid of this jerk,” she said, hooking her thumb at Chambers. “Look at him. He doesn’t want to spend one more minute with us.”

  “It’s too risky,” David said. “Too many of us have families. And the prophet. Plus, he’s our doctor. It doesn’t do any good to get medical supplies if there’s no doctor left to administer it.”

  “This was never just about medical supplies,” Miriam said. “Was it, Jacob?”

  Jacob twisted one hand around the barrel of his assault rifle, wanting to groan. So close to making contact. If only they hadn’t come under fire.

  “We can’t risk it,” Jacob said. “We’ll go home.”

  Miriam dropped her argument. “That’s the leadership I mean. Come on, everyone back in.”

  Eliza turned from her conversation with Steve. “The Methuselah tank could get through that barrier. Knock it down, then we’d have enough horsepower to push those buses out of the way.”

  From anyone else, Jacob would have dismissed the suggestion. He’d already decided it wasn’t worth a battle, wasn’t worth more killing. Maybe in another year Richfield wouldn’t be hostile and they could try again.

  “You think I should swap vehicles and make another attempt?” he asked.

  “I don’t think you should, no. But Steve and I will go.” She glanced at Chambers. “And him. One of us can drive. One can operate the machine gun, and one can feed the ammo. The tank will soak up plenty of abuse. Probably even survive a hit from an RPG.”

  Eliza wasn’t talking about an actual tank, but the converted armored car they’d used to flee Las Vegas. Some crazy old prepper had welded on extra armor and gun ports and crammed it with supplies to ride out the collapse. The vehicle was stronger than the Humvee but guzzled precious fuel, so it was rarely started up. Thanks to the preparations of Jacob’s father, the church had begun the crisis with hundreds of thousands of gallons of diesel fuel stored in the valley, but three years later, they had barely half their starting supplies. There was still plenty for an important mission like this, but he’d hate to burn so much unless he was sure.

  “Jacob?” she asked.

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “We don’t have any kids yet,” she said. “It’s just the two of us, plus Chambers. If we get trapped outside the valley for a while, it will be fine.”

  “It’s not the getting trapped part that I worry about.”

  “Why me?” Chambers asked.

  “You don’t want to leave?” Jacob asked, surprised.

  “Not really.”

  “But you were just griping about losing the chance to get away from us,” Jacob said. “We’re a bunch of religious crazies and survivalist fanatics.”

  “Yeah, well. Don’t care much for getting killed either.” Chambers shrugged. “I’ve had a chance to reconsider.”

  Miriam snorted. “Whatever.”

  “We won’t get killed,” Eliza said. “Whatever is up there, it can’t be any worse than what we faced last year in Las Vegas.”

  “It was the will of the Lord that we survived Vegas,” Miriam said. “I’m not so sure about this.”

  “Either way,” Chambers said, “I’m not going through another firefight if I can help it. I’ve seen enough of that to last a lifetime. I’m going back with the rest of you.”

  “Does that mean you’ll stop complaining?” Miriam asked. “How about that? You had your chance, you turned back. So now you can shut up.”

  “We still want to go,” Eliza said. “With or without Chambers.”

  “I don’t know,” Jacob said. He turned to Steve. “You’re on board with this?”

  “It was my idea in the first place,” he said. “I don’t want to abandon Blister Creek, of course I don’t. But I need to know if there’s anything out there. I think you understand that, Jacob.”

  “I do.”

  “Who knows what we’ll find? A government, maybe. I still believe in this country. If people don’t stand up and start pulling it together again, it’ll die.”

  It was a little late for that. A year ago brush wars had inflamed half the continent. It wouldn’t be any better on the outside now. There sure wouldn’t be a Federal government with any sort of authority.

  But that didn’t mean there was nothing left to rebuild. It might start with something as simple as driving to Provo or Salt Lake and establishing contact. Jacob had already been turning this over in his head for months. He wanted to make that trip himself.

  “We’ve taken chances before,” Eliza said. “They always turned out well.”

  Jacob met her gaze. “Except when they haven’t. Then people die.”

  “Trust me, please. Trust in—”

  “In the Lord?” he asked.

  “In my judgment. I want you to trust in my judgment, Jacob.”

  A few hours later, and back in the valley, Eliza gave Jacob a hug before she climbed into the Methuselah tank. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

  Jacob tried to keep the concern from his voice. “I trust you and I trust Steve. It’s everything else that worries me.”

  “This beast got us out of Las Vegas. It will do fine.” She patted the side of the armored car, which sat at the curb in front of the Christianson house, fetched from the garage out back. It sat as squat and ugly as a horny toad.

  “See if you can find a way around Richfield. They’ll be jumpy after exchanging fire with us earlier.”

  “We’ll try. No promises.”

  Jacob handed her his list of medical supplies. “You know the drill. Don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger, but if you can find it, this is stuff I need.”

  “Got it.”

  Steve was already behind the wheel after having loaded supplies into the truck: food, water, ammunition, blankets, white sheets to wave when necessary. An hour had passed since their return to the valley and the others from the earlier expedition had only just dispersed toward their respective homes, including Chambers, that coward. It was still only midafternoon. That was the surprising part.

  In the short time since morning, they’d traveled almost two hundred miles in the Humvee, a round trip to Richfield and back that would have taken several days on horse. And now Eliza and Steve meant to drive all the way around (or through) Richfield before dark. Possibly all the way to Provo by nightfall, if they could manage it. People used to cross such distances with hardly a thought. Now it felt like sending someone across the ocean in a sailboat; you were never sure you’d see them again.

  Steve turned the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to life. He opened the door rather than peering through the tiny slit of bulletproof glass.

  “Ready, Liz?”

  “One sec.” She turned back to Jacob. “Go to scripture study tomorrow night.”

  “What, the big one at the chapel?”

  “Yes, that one. You’ve been skipping the Tuesday meetings—you don’t know what’s going on. I was keeping watch on it, but . . . well, I really think you should go. You need to go.”

  Jacob was still wondering what that was about when she climbed into the truck and they drove off. He stared after the vehicle as it rounded the corner and headed for the cliffs. Gradually, the rumbling engine faded in the distance.

  After that, he strained against the rustling breeze for a long time, wondering if he’d be able to hear gunfire all the way from the cliffs if the wind blew just right. McQueen had better keep that gate open or there would be hell to pay.

  Jacob heard nothing. Eventually, he turned back toward the house, ready to make a dent in his endless list of chores and responsibilities.
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  CHAPTER NINE

  Miriam left the house at dusk, when gold and red still burnished the western horizon, and there was still enough light to ride by. But it was no easy task to slip away without being spotted. Their smaller house was next to the main Christianson compound, and the two families shared stables.

  So she sent David next door to keep Jacob occupied, while Lillian kept watch along the back of the house, ready to warn her if someone came around from the front. Neither of them questioned Miriam’s destination or her motives for keeping her departure a secret. But she could tell they were bursting with curiosity.

  As Miriam rode out, heading north through the fields before turning onto the street, she met Lillian still keeping watch. A look flickered across the younger woman’s face, an unstated desire to ride with Miriam and share in her secret. Miriam acknowledged it with a nod. Inside, she felt a flood of affection for her sister wife. Lillian was a good woman, intelligent, hardworking, and loyal.

  They had a third woman in the family now. Clarissa Smoot’s husband had died in the fight at the reservoir last year and had chosen to join herself and her children to the David Christianson family. She was good-hearted, if sometimes moody, but Miriam figured that most of that was mourning for her first husband and her former sister wives, now scattered among several church families.

  Maybe Miriam would feel closer to Clarissa in time, but the new sister wife had a different personality, more feminine, more interested in house and kitchen and childrearing than the other two wives. Nothing wrong with that. It took different types to form a healthy family. But Miriam didn’t have much patience for all that female homemaking stuff.

  Miriam got off the pavement and onto dirt ranch roads as soon as she could. It was trickier riding here, and the horse moved so slowly and cautiously in the gathering gloom that she thought briefly about dismounting and going the rest of the way to the Smoot ranch on foot. She owned a pair of night vision goggles, but hadn’t powered them up in several weeks, and when she’d checked at the house, had been alarmed to discover that the batteries would no longer hold a charge. Three years ago she’d have tossed the old batteries without a second thought. Now, she had no way to replace them.