by Reed, N. C.
“I do not think we will be here long enough to get used to it,” Abram said without thinking, making his way to where the young man sat on a cinderblock.
“Oh?” Z never looked up as he spoke. “Surprising. Most of the time people are fighting to get in here, or else to kill us all and just take it from us.”
“That is what happened to us,” Abram nodded gravely. “Most friends and family perished in an attack on our community before the holiday season. After Thanksgiving.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Z replied. “It’s happened to a lot of places, and apparently not just around here.” He paused as he checked the edge of the blade. Satisfied, he sheathed the blade and drew a smaller one, starting again.
“We were attacked here after the first of the year,” he continued. “I guess about the middle of January, though to be honest I don’t much bother keeping up with dates these days. One day is as good as the next anymore. Anyway, we were attacked without any warning or attempt to negotiate. We lost nine good people and had several others injured. Some likely won’t ever completely recover. But we’re still here, and they aren’t.”
“You fought?” Abram asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Of course,” Z showed surprise as he looked up at Abram. “What else would we do?”
“I don’t know your ways, Yankee,” Abram shrugged. “It is not our way.”
“What isn’t your way?” Z frowned. “I’d be careful how I threw that ‘Yankee’ tag out around here, by the way.” He stood and sheathed the smaller blade, the stone disappearing into a pouch on his gear.
“Apologies, Englishman. The term Yankee is an old one from our home in Ohio,” Abram explained. “As to our way, we are not aggressive ourselves, nor do we respond to aggression with violence. We respond with peace.”
“Well, that’s a new one, I guess,” Z mused. “How’s that working out for you? ‘Fore you got here, I mean?”
“I do not understand,” Abram replied.
“What’s your name?” Z asked suddenly.
“I am Abram Troyer,” Abram replied. “I am married to Isaac Miller’s oldest daughter,” he added. Many people knew his father-in-law, though they had no reason to know Abram from the trees in the forest.
“Zach Willis,” ‘Z’ nodded. The one letter form of address now made sense, at least.
“I do not understand your question, Zach,” Abram repeated.
“You don’t believe in fighting, so that means you don’t protect yourself, your home, or your family. Right?”
“We strive to be Godly, always, no matter the situation,” Abram explained. “Our beliefs do not allow us to use violence.”
“Hm,” Zach nodded slowly. “And I asked how that was working for you so far,” he said. “What have you lost because of that policy?”
“It is true we’ve lost much,” Abram admitted. “Our homes, farms, many of our tools necessary for our labor. But we have not lost our way, nor our souls. We cannot give in to vengeance and hatred of the man before us.”
“Hatred?” Zach frowned slightly. “I don’t hate anyone, Abram. I don’t even hate the people who attacked us here.”
“Then why do you fight them, Zach?” Abram asked. “If not for hate, or vengeance, why raise your hand to others?”
“I don’t hate the people I’m fighting, Abram,” Zach repeated. “I don’t fight because I hate them. I fight for the people behind me. The people beside me. I fight to protect the weak. Hate doesn’t have anything to do with it. I can’t believe you can’t at least fight to protect home and family”
“It is not our way,” Abram said simply.
“Well, guess that’s your decision to make,” Zach shrugged. “Good luck with that.”
Abram watched the young man walk away, thinking about all he had been told.
-
“I feel I must try and offer you some form of compensation before we move on, Gordon Sanders,” Isaac said over the breakfast table in Angela’s outdoor kitchen.
“Told you before that wasn’t needed or wanted, Isaac,” Gordon shook his head. “And move on? Where are you moving to, Isaac?”
“I am unsure yet,” Isaac admitted. “We must find another congregation to join, somewhere.”
“And do you know where one is?” asked Gordon.
“Not at this exact moment, no,” Isaac admitted reluctantly. “I know where several were, but they may have met with the same fate as our own. I must go and see before I can know.”
“You know, you and your family could just stay here, Isaac,” Gordon said easily, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table and then resting his chin on steepled hands. “There’s no reason for you to take your children and that little grandbaby out into that mess out there,” he waved toward the interstate. “No to mention your daughter isn’t really in any condition to travel further at the moment.”
“What do you mean?” Isaac asked, looking at Ruth, then at Martha.
“Not them, Isaac,” Gordon shook his head. “Mary is pretty bad off according to my daughter-in-law. Dehydrated, malnourished and exhausted. Nursing an infant just compounds all of that from what Pat said. She needs a few days of rest and a few days more of good meals and clean water before she can go much further.”
“She must go where her husband goes,” Isaac shrugged. “That is no longer up to me, but rather to him.”
“You’d just drag her along to her death, then?” Gordon showed the first sign of anything other than friendliness. “Even after our medical people have already found out what she needs and started seeing to it that she gets it?”
“I doubt we can afford-,”
“There’s no charge of any kind attached to that help, Isaac,” Gordon cut him off. “For anyone. There hasn’t been since this has all started. Those who are sick or injured get whatever help we can provide them. Sometimes it isn’t enough, but all we can do is all we can do. Sometimes I reckon the Lord comes calling and that’s all there is to it. But there’s no need to worry about cost, because there isn’t any.”
“We cannot accept-,”
“If you call me English and say you can’t accept help from me after knowing me for all these years, doing business with me, then I may just test that no aggression clause in your religion, Isaac,” Gordon warned, his voice low and dangerous.
“Gordon!” Angela almost hissed.
“You stay out of this,” Gordon didn’t even look her way. “You aren’t the only one with beliefs, Isaac Miller. I’ve always respected yours, and I had always assumed you would extend that same courtesy to me. Well, my way, our way, says we extend assistance to all men, especially to those of the household of faith. While our strict definition of the household might not include those outside the church, that turn of phrase simply means we take care of our own first, which we have. We have also extended help to as many as possible, including an orphanage less than a hundred yards from the house you slept in last night that serves as a home for over a dozen small children who we have no way to identify. You don’t suppose we charge them for their upkeep, do you?”
Isaac Miller wisely kept his mouth shut on that one.
“I risked the wrath of my son, Clayton, to make sure that you and your family would have a place here, Isaac,” Gordon continued, though somewhat more calmly than just a few seconds before. “I didn’t do that because I expected payment from you. If you want to repay me, then be a good and productive member of our community. We’re trying to survive and to make a decent life for the children we have here. You can be a part of that. I’m sure there’s a great deal of knowledge you have that could be passed along to the next generation. But I haven’t asked you for anything material and won’t.” Gordon paused for a moment, visibly collecting himself.
“Now then,” he continued finally. “Let’s try this again. Isaac, you and your family are welcome here. We all help with gardens that help feed us, and those who have skills we can use are asked to contribute where and wh
en needed. We’re also trying to reinstitute a specie driven economy here on the farm proper. If someone hires you to do a job, then whatever arrangements you come to with them, that’s yours. We don’t ask for any of it to be contributed to the farm or farm operations. In turn, we’re looking to open a general store and a bank. Your family can make products to sell in the store at whatever commission they work out with you, and you can spend the money you make there on goods you want in return.”
“Meals are already provided along with housing, so those are two things you don’t have to worry about paying for. Security is also provided, though we can’t and don’t guarantee that the farm won’t be attacked or that you won’t be hurt. We have been attacked more times than I can remember right off hand, and we’ve lost people in those attacks, with others injured or wounded at the same time. But we do have a good fighting force that’s well trained and equipped and includes several soldiers that are the survivors of the group that was stationed here before the plague. Far as I know they’re good people, and my son’s men are as well.”
“You can stay or go as you please,” Gordon got to his feet. “Know that the offer is there, if you want it.” With that Gordon stepped outside and headed for the barn. Behind him, Angela bustled around, cleaning and wiping down her kitchen.
“Please allow me to assist you, Mrs. Sanders,” Ruth got to her feet.
“Thank you, Ruth,” Angela smiled. “Please don’t hold that against Gordon, Isaac Miller. We’ve been through a lot just trying to do our Christian duty and I’m afraid it has somewhat tarnished Gordon’s halo just a bit.”
“It is I who should ask that you not hold my behavior against me,” Isaac shook his head slowly. “And I who must ask your husband for forgiveness. I have insulted him, though without the intention to do so. Your husband is indeed a good man, Mrs. Sanders. If you will excuse me?” Isaac was on his feet now.
“Of course,” Angela smiled at him.
“Ruth, please care for your sister,” Isaac ordered. “If Mrs. Sanders needs help or company, you two should provide it. I will return when I can.” Without waiting for a reply, Isaac stepped out of the outdoor kitchen to follow Gordon’s path to the barn.
“I fear the pressure of things is getting to him, Mrs. Sanders,” Ruth told Angela once Isaac was out of earshot. “Things have been rather hard since we were attacked.”
“I had a thought once that so long as your community was left alone, your people would be able to continue on with little interruption,” Angela told the girl. “I admit that I had a great deal of naivete at the start of all this, Ruth. My son tried to warn me, as did others, but I didn’t listen. I was determined that things would continue as normal for us, and I tried to make it do that by force of will. Silly, stupid, and selfish just to name a few things that describe me at the time,” she sighed.
“Just as it was naïve to think that your community would be able to keep going. I should have known that someone who is a thief and bully would choose to attack a place like yours. Because your people believe in non-violence, that would seem ideal to a person such as that. I am so sorry that you all had to endure such a thing.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Sanders,” Ruth bowed her head slightly. “Our view is that such things are the will of the Father. Such things are tests for our faith and obedience. Just as it was God’s will that we were gathering from our garden when the attack came. It is removed from the house…where the house was,” she stumbled slightly before regaining her equilibrium. “We were gathering a few things that we had planted late. Kale and spinach, along with a few carrots and onions. We heard the shooting from where we were, but by the time we got home, the house and barn were burning, as were most other buildings in the community.”
“Had we not been gathering food we would have died with the others. As it is, we were part of perhaps twenty-five in all to survive the attack. Out of over two hundred,” she finished softly, a single tear tracking down her cheek.
“You poor child,” Angela embraced the girl, holding her tightly as she began to cry.
Throughout their ordeal, it had been Ruth who had remained steadfast and strong. Whatever the need was, she had been there to meet it, whether with someone else of her family or on her own. She had held her younger sister when she cried for the loss of their home, she had helped her older sister when the duties of motherhood had threatened to overwhelm her without a home. She had labored with her father to dig through the remains of their home, barn and outbuildings to gather whatever remained of their clothing, tools and supplies. They had been extraordinarily fortunate to have a small root cellar that had remained undiscovered by whoever had attacked the farm, and that cellar had not only given them what remained of the stores inside, but a place to huddle out of the weather.
Ruth had been the resolve for her father when his hope had dimmed. She had been the inspiration for her younger sister when she was devastated. She had been the encouragement for her sister and brother-in-law when they saw their fragile start together left in ruins, and them with a newborn to care for. She had been there for them all, their strength in the face of the end of all their hopes and hard work. Through it all, she had been the glue that held them together.
Finally, the weight of all that came crashing down upon a fourteen-year-old girl who had not yet taken the time to grieve for extended family and friends that had been lost in the senseless violence that had taken their home.
Ruth shuddered as sobs wracked her body, her face buried in Angela Sanders’ shoulder, safe in the strong arms of a woman who had seen her own share of devastation and knew what the girl was going through.
Soon, Martha joined them, and Angela opened her embrace of Ruth to pull Martha into the same hug. Ruth cried too, but more because her sister was crying. Angela began to slowly rock the two of them as she sat with them on the bench of the dinner table.
Providing what comfort she could in a world gone mad.
-
“I ask for your understanding, Gordon, and your forgiveness,” Isaac finished, his hand extended.
“Of course, Isaac,” Gordon smiled. “If you forgive me for my aggressive behavior at the table. That was uncalled for, and I apologize. I let my desire to help your family overrule my manners.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Gordon,” Isaac assured him as the two finished shaking hands. “And thank you for your kindness, and desire to help us.”
“There is always a place here for you, Isaac,” said Gordon. “You are a good man, with a good family. Strong, hard-working and honest, which are all traits that are in short supply these days.”
Isaac considered all that for less than a minute before reaching a decision.
“Please tell me about your community, Gordon,” he spoke quietly but with a firm voice. “Tell me what we could expect, and what would be expected of us, were we to accept your kind offer.”
“Well….”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“They’re all suffering rather badly from PTSD.”
Beverly Jackson was in the clinic with Patricia Sanders and Jaylyn Thatcher. She had sat and talked with all three of the Miller girls, including Mary Troyer. Normally they would not have been likely to speak to someone like Beverly, but Jaylyn had basically hidden Beverly’s interview inside the ‘welcoming’ physical given to all three girls. Beverly had a way of getting people to talk to her, and after a few minutes with each girl she had a clear picture of their life over the winter.
“I’d be shocked if they weren’t,” Pat nodded. “Lost friends, extended family, home and hearth, escaping with literally the clothing on their backs and not much else? I’m honestly impressed that they didn’t break down during their ordeal. That Ruth is especially strong, God bless her soul. Every family ought to have someone like her.”
“I must agree with that,” Jaylyn nodded somberly. “All of it, really. It really is surprising that they’re doing as well as they are. Mrs. Sanders helped them a great deal, and then walk
ed them over here personally. She like as not helped them as much as anything we can do.”
“On that we are all agreed I should imagine,” Beverly replied. “There’s nothing better for them now than a feeling of safety and belonging. Safety shouldn’t be a problem, barring another wide-open attack.”
“You think belonging will be problematic?” Patricia frowned.
“I do,” Beverly nodded. “It won’t be because of us, or any of our people that I can think of. It has more to do with how isolated they were, and now how isolated from the rest of the farm they’re going to feel. Atop that, the normal things we use to help with that, gatherings and games and what have you, won’t work with them as they will likely avoid them completely due to religious concerns.”
“Hadn’t thought of that one,” Pat sighed. “And no, they’re not likely to participate in any of that. That means we’ll have to come up with something else.”
“There are several things that are going on around here that would probably seem like normal activities to them,” Jaylyn mused. “The sewing room comes to mind. And they’ll need clothing, anyway. Especially Ruth. That girl is developing quickly and the clothing she wore here has seen better days.”
“It’s a start,” Beverly nodded. “We can also depend on Angela to include them in things like her gardens. And the cooking over at Sander’s house.”
“I’m sure,” Pat nodded. “Ma also has a loom and spinning wheel she’s experimenting with. How much you want to be that Mary and Ruth know how to use them already?”
“No bet,” Beverly smiled. “A steady schedule of familiar things, coupled with openly friendly and protective adults will go a long way toward helping them. Sooner or later, they’ll have to assimilate into the community a bit better, but not right now. Not unless they show interest themselves. Too much culture shock will be just as bad as what they’ve already been through.”
“We’ll need to keep a close eye on them.”
-
“Hello Ruth, Martha,” Lainie smiled brightly. “I’m Lainie Harper. Welcome to the sewing room.”