by N. C. Reed
“Oh Lord, who art in heaven, we give Thee thanks for this food we are about to partake in. We give Thee thanks for each and every one gathered here, that Thou hast seen us through the first of this storm and allowed us to survive and endure. We pray Thee forgive our sins, we pray Thee bless this food, that it may nourish us and give us strength to do those things we must in the days ahead. We thank Thee for the hands that prepared this bounty and pray they be blessed. We give thanks for those who have provided and ask Thy blessing there as well. As we face uncertain times, we ask you Lord God, be with us. Strengthen us in the face of adversity that we may stand against it to protect and provide for our families. We pray also for those less fortunate than us, suffering and hurting, that Your compassion might be poured out upon them. These things we prayerfully ask in Thy Son's precious name, Amen.”
“Amen,” every voice repeated.
“Well, get started already!” Leon demanded, standing first in line for the buffet style serving line. Laughter rolled through the building at his demand. Despite his demands and pride of place, Leon insisted all the children go before him, and then further shocked the crowd by insisting that all the women eat before the men.
“Women worked the last three days putting on this feed,” Leon told the men in line behind him. “Reckon you can wait whilst they get them young 'uns set up and then feed themselves.”
The women thanked him for his kind words as they trooped by him to fix their own plates. Finally, they were all finished and Leon started down the line himself.
For three hours, everyone sat and enjoyed food and fellowship. Games had been set up for the young and young at heart, and as meal time wore down, the youngsters were laid out on a pallet while the adults continued to visit. Soon enough Rook cards were produced and the fight was figuratively on. Those not playing Rook were soon playing Canasta instead. Children played board games or card games designed for their age group. A few who didn't play either game simply sat off to the side discussing the state of things in general. With the wood furnace stoked nicely and full bellies all around, it was very easy for everyone to get comfortable and relax. The events of the past six weeks were allowed to dim in the memory, at least for one day.
The men of Clay's outfit, himself included, trooped in and out all day as they spelled each other in two hour shifts so that everyone could eat and have some down time. The cupola was manned and someone walking the grounds at all times, or in this instance riding a side-by-side ATV with a cab and a heater. With new structures and families, there was more to cover now. Eventually it would be done by horseback, but for now they used what they had.
Gordy and his friends were paired with the more experienced men, making the rounds and serving time in the observation point, learning the ropes for the job they were trying to fill. In between those times the five newcomers ate better than they had since the lights went out, laughed and talked among themselves and with the others, and forgot for just a little while that they had no idea where their family members were, or even if they still lived.
The day was waning as the group finally began to break up. A few stubborn players remained behind, unwilling to give up a challenge, but the rest soon began gathering left overs for supper that evening. The ladies had a brief powwow and decided to make the evening meal from the leftovers and eat again as a group rather than everyone having to carry so much home or else cook again. Thus, the card players got a short reprieve as the ladies made ready to serve another meal.
This one was much less formal as people simply began to drift to the food table as they got hungry and refill plates left from lunch. Another two-and-a-half hours would pass before people started to gather up tired children and head home. It was agreed that tables and chair would be reclaimed the following day.
It was a tired bunch of people who made their way to various new homes that evening. It had been a relaxing and fun filled afternoon and evening, and something they all needed badly. It didn't make things get better, but it did make things seem not so dark, even if just for a little while. For one day, things were almost like they used to be.
They would take it and be grateful.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
-
One day had been allowed for everyone to merely be with their friends and family as they could and recover from the Christmas Day feast, but that was it. There was too much to do and not enough time to do it. Winter was threatening in a very real way now, and once it arrived they might well have more trouble than just snow, ice and wind.
The adults, minus Abigail and Samantha Walters who were relegated to watching the smaller children, gathered together again in the same building used for Christmas dinner. There, Leon had explained some ugly truths to them.
“We all managed to survive through this so far,” he looked over the crowd. “I told each of you when I asked you here what I was trying to do, and all of you agreed with it or you probably wouldn't be here. There's some facts we got to face and we may as well get to it now, before we get any further.”
“Gonna be some hungry people around 'fore too long. Probably some already in fact. Some may be young 'uns even. Families. Maybe friends. They liable to come here looking for a handout. Maybe asking for food or shelter or a place even to live.”
“We can't feed ever body,” he lowered the boom all at once. “Just ain't no way to do it. We ain't got the food to do it with. We gave what we as a family could spare to the Baptist church shelter when they set it up after the fire. It was honestly more than we could rightly give, but we figured we could make some adjustments and get by until something come in to bloom, come spring time.”
“It will be painful to turn folks away, especially if you know 'em,” Leon acknowledged. “Will be for me, too. I imagine between us all we know most everybody on the south end of the county, not to mention around us here. I can't help that, and you can't neither. Facts is facts, and we ain't got the food to give away.”
“Leon, you told us there was plenty of food to get through the winter,” Joshua Webb spoke up.
“For us,” Leon nodded. “There is plenty for us. But only just. There ain't no margin for error in giving away food. Happens we have a good harvest then we 'll likely have some leeway next year, but if we give away what's stored here now, then it means your own kids go hungry. And I ain't talking about just doing without, either,” he warned. “I'm talking about a winter of eating too little. The kind of thing that makes a young 'un not grow, or be weak in their bones. Any o' you want that?” Glance were exchanged, heads shook. No one was going to sacrifice their children for someone else.
“The ultimate goal here is to build a new township or village that can sustain itself, provide each person with a means to earn a living, and maybe work up some way to establish trade with others later on. I don't even know that folks will be able to do that. I don't know what the future has set for us no more than you, but we can make some guesses based on history. Facts that ain't pretty and don't paint a good picture.”
“We done seen people trying to victimize other folk on account o' they could,” he went on. “People who were stronger, lording it over them as was weak. Well, I ain't having that. No sir. Anyone coming here looking for trouble, looking for a fight, they 'll find it all right. I guarantee that. Cause no matter what happens, I aim to see my great-grandchildren provided for. Cause that's who and what we're working for, make no mistake about it.” He paused and took a breath, seeming to make eye contact with everyone in the room as he did.
“My generation won't see things like they used to be again,” he said finally, his tone more serious and somber than anyone could ever remember. “My son's generation like as not won't neither, and my grandchildren ain't much more likely. It's too much damage to repair so quick.”
“Some of you that are younger, Gordy's age and younger, you will probably see some things back to what we call normal as you grow older, but it will likely be the generation after you, your children, that will someday
maybe, maybe see the world return to what it was a couple months ago. Electricity in every home and food on shelves in a store instead of in jars in the cupboard. Cars running down the street and what have you.”
“More importantly, it will be you who makes it that way,” Leon told them. “It will be you young 'uns that right the world, if it's righted at all.”
“And it's our job, us older folk, to make sure you get the chance. Our job to make sure you make it that far and got something to work with when you get there. As much as we can. All that we can. That's what we gotta do. All of you oldsters like me, you hear me good now,” he pointed a gnarled finger at the crowd and swept them with it. “Starting now we live for one reason, and that's to make sure of their future. We done had ours. Our time has gone by. Now, we make sure that when their time is upon 'em, they can rise up and walk like we did.”
“I ain't normally one for making such speeches as this,” he admitted gravely. “Ain't never been my thing to be out in front of folks. But this was my idea, so I reckon it's for me to explain how it has to work.”
“We will take a selected few new people as we go along so long as we have or can make room, but those people will be limited, understand? Limited to them what can make life better for the young ones and their job easier. People who can make our little venture stronger than it might be without them. There's always gonna be a skill we need and ain't got. People who can fill that need will be the ones we let join us.”
“I know that sounds cold and I suppose it is, but it ain't got nothing to do with greed or feelings. I got a house full of folk and my kin does too. Got folks living overhead of us and in every nook and cranny we could fill. We ain't selfish, we ain't greedy. We're realists. And we just can't realistically save everybody. It can't be done and it's better we accept that now than be faced with another disaster later on.”
“For now, myself, George Franklin, Joshua Webb, Tandi Maseo, my grandson Robert and Miss Beverly Jackson will sit on the committee that will decide whether we allow someone to stay or not. I ain't done them no favors by asking them to do this, so don't start giving them no hard time over it. They just happen to be the best people for the job. They was all chosen cause they each bring a skill to the table. Between them they can judge who has the skills we need and whether or not to allow them in. Whatever they decide we will abide by. There's five so there shouldn't be any ties, but since I don't vote, I 'll be the tie-breaker.”
“Soon as we've got some sense of normalcy, we can ease up on that a bit and maybe start allowing folks in on merit. I hope so anyway. Until then, we got other things to do.”
“Everyone who is able will learn how to use these rifles,” he pointed to the AK-47 rifle that he had Lainie carry while she and Clay stood next to him. “They're Commie goods I know, but ain't a bad rifle. My grandson says they're easy to operate and what he calls forgiving of unskilled users. They got a small surplus of 'em and plenty of equipment to go with 'em, so every able-bodied man, woman or teen of suitable age and size will have one and have it nearby at all times once they learn how to use it.”
“Some of you don't like that, I know,” he nodded. “Tough. This farm had already been attacked once and could be again. This ain't about nothing but keeping ourselves, our homes, and most of all our young ones safe. You will do it, like it or not. That ain't being mean, it's just being real.”
“In times of danger, Clay will be in charge. Anything he says, do it. Same for his men. They've all done that sort of thing far more often than they care to remember I'm sure. They know what they're doing. Know what's needed and how to get it done. We do what they say and that makes it harder for anyone else to take from us.”
“Work details will be organized by Josh Webb, George Franklin or my son. Right now, I guess the main thing is to keep laying up materials to build with and keep cutting wood. Remember we have to cook with it even in summer time. My brain trust,” he pointed to where the twins and their minions were standing, “has come up with different ways of doing things that they 'll be sharing so when they get around to it they can share all that. Too technical for me anyhow,” he waved it off to chuckles from the group. This was the Leon they were more used to.
“I've said more 'n enough I reckon, so I'm done. Mind what I said. We got to be smart. Clayton will be dividing y'all into classes for that gun training, so listen up as he talks to ya. And if you're a praying sort, and you ain't praying yet, now would be the time to get started.” With that Leon turned to find Brick and Janice waiting to take him home. He allowed them to escort him outside where the twins' golf cart was waiting, which they would use to get him home.
“You stay a while,” he shook his head when Janice started to climb aboard. “Ain't right, girl your age always cooped up, taking care of an old man. And they're saying and teaching things you need to hear. So, you stay. Come along on home when it's done. We 'll still be there,” he added kindly.
“Yes, Mister Leon,” the girl looked and sounded disappointed, but obeyed and went back inside. Brick started them for home.
“I guess you ain't taking no gun classes?” he asked the former bouncer.
“I don't see how they would be useful, no,” he raised an eyebrow but didn't bother looking at Leon.
“Gonna get one o' them rifles?” It sounded like a challenge.
“I don't need one,” was Brick's calm reply.
“I assumed as much,” Leon sighed. “You can't just sit here taking care o' me, Byron,” he told the big man softly. “It might be they could use your help, you know.”
“If they need my help, then I will give it to them. You know that,” he reminded the old man.
“So why not go ahead and start working on it now?” Leon pressed.
“You know why, Leon,” 'Byron' told him flatly. “If I need a gun, I 'll have one. Until then, I 'll do it this way. I work around the farm to earn my keep and I prefer it that way. I like it. Labor is restful to me.”
“Probably the only man here that thinks so,” Leon snorted.
“Maybe,” Brick shrugged. “But I don't think so. I think most of them are glad to have something to take their minds off all this.”
“Might be right at that,” Leon had to agree. “Might be right at that. What about Janice?”
“What about her?” the big man asked.
“She needs to at least learn to use a pistol,” Leon told him. “I'm about as useless as hind tits on a boar hog if it comes to a fight. She needs to be able to protect herself.”
“I'm sure Clay will have her taught,” Brick shrugged.
“She may need encouraging is what I'm saying,” Leon glared at Brick, but the look bounced right off.
“I'm sure you 'll think of something, Leon,” Brick's smirk could be heard it was so loud.
“You're as stubborn as ever, ain't you?” the Old Man demanded finally.
“You calling someone, anyone else stubborn,” Brick chuckled. “That is rich.”
-
“Good job, Miss Sanchez,” Greg Holloway nodded as Maria reassembled her AK-47. She nodded her thanks but said nothing, concentrating on the task at hand. The deputy hobbled on, leaning on his staff.
“Nice,” he told Beverly Jackson who had already assembled hers, surprising those around her. She just raised an eyebrow as if to say 'what', and went on with her business. Greg took the rifle, worked the bolt, checked the rifle over and returned it, nodding in approval.
“Excellent,” he complimented. “Well done.”
“Thank you,” she bowed her head slightly and then replaced the rifle on the table. Holloway once more moved on.
The first class was made up of the Sanders women and the women from the Troy farm, along with the teens from both groups, the exceptions again being Abigail Sanders and Samantha Walters who were essentially operating a day care center with Christina Caudell, who was now very pregnant indeed. Angela was the only other woman not present, due to her age and the fact that arthritis in her hands wo
uld not allow her to operate such a weapon.
Abigail fumed at being relegated to watching the children, but Clay was adamant that she was not welcome in any classes now being taught, nor would she take part in any defensive preparations on the farm. When she demanded to know why, the reply was brutally simple;
“We can't trust you.”
Samantha Walters was exempted more for her closeness to Abigail than anything, but a secondary factor was the simple fact that the girl was slight in build and when outside her comfort zone her confidence turned to timidity in a flash. Still shaken by her escape from the shoe factory prison, she winced every time she heard a shot fired, no matter how distant. She was better off watching the children and out of harm's way.
Amy Mitchell was deemed sufficiently recovered physically to participate and had shown aptitude and eagerness in learning to protect herself, her daughter and their new home and friends. Terri Hartwell was not so familiar with firearms but after her experiences in town was more than willing to take up the challenge.
“All right,” Holloway completed his circuit and returned to the head table. “Now that we've gotten the basics of your new rifles mastered, it's time to work on your handguns. Place your rifles behind you on your tables and take your pistols, please,” he ordered.
“First ensure that your handgun is empty, locked back, and that the magazine well is empty.”
Greg was doing much better today on his leg. The first two days he had leaned so heavily on the staff that he wasn't sure his arm wasn't going to drop off, but over the last week he had gradually gotten stronger. It hurt, but it would have to hurt. There was very little in the way of analgesics and Greg wasn't going to take any of them when the pain was manageable.
Barely anyway.
“Proceed with disassembly, laying all parts out for inspection, please.”