by Alex Gunwick
“Getting back to where?” a deep voice asked.
She jumped and spun around to find a man wearing jeans, a tan, long-sleeved shirt, and cowboy boots standing right behind her.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Elijah.”
He held out his hand. She shook it quickly before releasing it. He studied her with sharp, steel-gray eyes. Although he had a smile on his face, the expression didn’t seep into his gaze. It stayed steady, cold. Almost lifeless. A chill shimmied down her spine.
“I should be going,” she said.
As she turned to leave, Elijah grabbed her upper arm.
“Hold on. I didn’t realize anyone else was living out here,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Sierra.” She jerked her arm free.
“I hope I didn’t scare you.”
“I’m not scared.” Her wobbly voice betrayed her, so she paused before continuing to speak. “I just need to get home.”
“Where do you live?” Elijah asked.
“Over the hill.”
“Across the stream?”
She nodded. Although she hadn’t wanted to give him any information, she didn’t want to be rude. She was probably overreacting to him because he towered over her by at least a foot. At only five feet two, everyone towered over her, but not everyone made her feel so small.
“Do you live with your family?” Elijah asked.
She nodded.
“I’d love to have them join us at church. We have a big potluck every night about an hour before sundown. Please bring your family tonight. I’d love to meet them.”
“I’ll ask if we can come.”
“Good.” He turned to Adam. “How’s the acorn collection coming?”
“Basket’s almost full,” Adam said.
“Excellent.”
“I’ll, uh… I’ll see you later,” she said.
She hurried away from them, knowing full well that she wouldn’t tell her mom about the encounter. Her mom would be furious and would probably ground her for a week. Which was ridiculous anyway, because what could she possibly ground her from? Watching the same movies? Reading the same books?
As she crossed the stream, she laughed softly. She was still thinking like she was back in high school. She was an adult now. Her mom couldn’t ground her, but she could give her the silent treatment, which was even worse. She hated it when her mom refused to speak to her. The lack of conversation and interaction drove her nuts. Of course her mom had to know that or she wouldn’t use that technique on her.
Maybe going to visit the preacher and Adam wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Having a secret all to herself gave her a delicious little thrill. She skipped the rest of the way to the cabin. She couldn’t wait to eat a delicious acorn cookie tomorrow. Maybe it would taste like sawdust, but at least it would be something different. And she’d get to see Adam again. He was cute. And in a post-apocalyptic world, meeting up with a cute guy was worth any potential punishment.
The next day, Sierra flew through her chores so fast that her mom added the extra task of checking the trip wires around the property. She grumbled as she moved from tree to tree checking the wires and testing the bells. Everything was still in place.
When she finally finished and reported back that everything was intact, she was free to leave. She ran through the stream, then up and down several hills before reaching the place she’d met Adam the day before. A small triangle of three oaks formed a recognizable meeting point. She sat on a tree stump and waited for him to appear.
An hour later, she wasn’t sure if he was going to show up. Maybe he’d been forced to do extra chores too?
Footsteps crunched through the forest. The preacher strolled up to where she sat.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “Adam said you’d be here.”
“Where is he?”
“The cookies are taking longer than expected, so he’s still at home with his mom. He mentioned that you’d be waiting for him, so I offered to come up and get you.” He held out his hand.
She eyed it warily before getting to her feet without his help.
“I could come back tomorrow,” she said.
“Well, you could, but honestly, I don’t think there will be any cookies left. Once word gets out that Melinda’s baked anything, pandemonium breaks out.” He smiled. Again, the movement didn’t reach his eyes. “If you’d rather take your chances and wait until tomorrow, no worries.”
He turned to leave.
“Wait.” The temptation of a mouthwatering cookie overrode her hesitation. “I’ll go with you.”
“Excellent.”
She followed him through the woods, carefully noting landmarks so she could try to find her way back. Next time she’d remember to bring some string so she could tie markers on the trees. They’d been walking for almost thirty minutes and she was so turned around she wasn’t sure which way would lead her home. She might have to look for the main road and follow it home.
When they finally emerged onto a paved road, she breathed a bit easier. She recognized the church’s spire. It rose up over the hills as if to lay claim to the entire canyon. Outside the church, small gatherings of three to eight people stood together talking and laughing. The tension in her gut relaxed. She wasn’t even sure why she’d been so scared to begin with. They all seemed like perfectly normal people.
As the preacher weaved his way through his flock, they turned to greet him. Several women seemed to bat their eyelashes at him. Weird. Weren’t preachers celibate?
She followed him to a large grill where a woman in a yellow apron stirred a pot of stew.
“I’d like you to meet my wife, Patrice.”
The woman turned around. She was about the same age as the preacher, somewhere in her forties. Her pale complexion and ruddy cheeks made every line on her face stand out. She had the worn look of someone who’d been sick for months.
“Hello.” Patrice forced a smile.
“This is Sierra,” Elijah said. “She’s come from over the hill to partake in our hospitality.”
“I’m just here for the cookies,” Sierra said.
“Patrice has been simmering the stew all day. I must insist you stay for dinner,” he said.
“Oh, I definitely can’t stay that long. My mom will be wondering where I went.”
“You didn’t tell her you were coming here?”
“No.”
“Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother,” he said.
“I’m not dishonoring them. I don’t feel the need to tell them everything I’m doing all the time,” she snapped.
“Fair enough,” he said.
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Patrice whispered.
Elijah shot her a withering look. She turned back to stir the stew.
“If you can only stay for a cookie, so be it.”
“Where’s Adam?” Sierra asked.
“With his mom in the church kitchen.”
She followed him into the church. With its wooden pews and simple podium, it had the classic look of a country church. She’d seen several replicas of this type of church when she’d gone to visit her dad’s parents in Tennessee.
“Are you Baptist?” she asked.
“No. Fundamentalist Christian.”
“So also not Catholic.”
“No. We believe in the literal word of the Lord.”
“So you literally believe that women shouldn’t teach or have authority over men?” she asked.
“The sexes have their place in God’s world. Women should be in charge of the household and children while men take care of providing for them.”
She rolled her eyes behind his back. Take away the modern lighting and they could have stepped back a hundred years into the time when women were property and men ruled with iron fists. Based on the way his wife didn’t argue with him, she suspected he firmly executed his archaic beliefs in his own life.
As they entered a back hallway, th
e smell of sugar and nuts filled the air. Saliva flooded her mouth. Cray-cray preacher or not, these people had sugar. She wanted to do a cartwheel in the middle of the hall. Praise the Lord indeed.
“Melinda, I have a guest with me,” Elijah said as he entered the kitchen.
“Hello honey,” Melinda said. “I’ve been so excited to meet you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Adam said you’re a lovely young woman and he’s right. Isn’t she beautiful, Elijah?”
“Stunning.”
Sierra resisted the urge to throw up in her mouth. As soon as Elijah left the room, she made a face. Melinda’s smile dropped.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Make faces behind people’s backs.”
“He’ll never know,” Sierra said.
“He knows everything.”
“Uh… okay.” These people were weird. She couldn’t wait to grab a cookie and get out of there.
“Anyway…” Melinda flashed a huge smile. “The acorn cookies are cooling on the racks. They should be ready soon. Adam told me a little bit about you, but we didn’t realize people were living up on the other side of the river.”
Although Melinda seemed nice enough, she heeded her warning about Elijah somehow knowing everything. Maybe the place was bugged or something, so she decided not to tell them anything else about her house or her family.
“Is Adam around?” Sierra asked.
“He’s out collecting more acorns.”
“Really? I didn’t see him in the forest.”
“Maybe they went to a different part today,” Melinda said. “Here, try a cookie. They’re cool enough now.”
“Thank you.”
Sierra took the cookie from her hand. It was slightly thicker than the cookies she was used to, but it smelled sweet, like maple syrup. As she bit into it, sweetness sparked across her tongue. It tasted like warm chestnuts and had to be packed with sugar. She resisted the urge to moan. It was one of the best cookies she’d ever tasted.
“These are so good. I need to teach my mom how to make these.”
“I could teach you how to make them,” Melinda said.
“Really?”
“Of course. I would need you to help collect more acorns, but I’d be happy to have another pair of hands in the kitchen with me.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be able to make this a regular thing. I can’t be gone for hours every day,” Sierra said.
“She doesn’t know you’re here?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She doesn’t trust strangers.”
“Understandable considering the state of the world.” Melinda lowered her voice. “Sometimes I think it’s best not to join new groups. But what do I know.”
“Don’t you like it here?”
“Of course.” Melinda smiled again as her gaze shifted to the door. “What’s not to like about a great congregation filled with God-fearing people?”
Sierra turned toward the door, half-expecting someone to be lurking in the shadows. No one was there.
“Thank you for the cookie,” she said. “I should be getting home.”
As Sierra headed toward the door, Melinda hurried over and grabbed her wrist to stop her.
“Things aren’t always what they seem. Be careful.”
After delivering the chilling warning, Melinda returned to kneading a pile of dough. Sierra opened her mouth to ask her what she meant but was cut off by Adam.
“Hey! You made it.”
“She just tried one of the cookies,” his mom said.
“It was great,” Sierra said.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Adam asked.
“No. I have to get home.”
“Let me walk you back. Is that okay, mom?”
“Ask Elijah.”
“Okay.”
As they entered the hall, Sierra stopped him. “Why do you need to ask Elijah?”
“He likes to know where everyone is, so no one goes missing.”
“That seems a bit controlling,” she said.
“It’s for our safety. Come on, we need to hurry so I can be back in time for dinner.”
She stood silent while he asked permission from Elijah. The sooner she could get home the better. The entire trip had left her uneasy. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why. After all, they’d been very nice to her… but something wasn’t right, and she didn’t want to stick around to figure it out.
24
Elijah walked several paces away from the barbecue before motioning to Turner. As chief of the security team, Turner had access to the resources Elijah needed to keep his flock safe. Turner joined him underneath a large oak.
“I need you to do something for me,” Elijah began. “There’s a girl running around in the woods. You may have seen her here today.”
“The blonde?”
“Yes. Adam found her wandering around the acorn trees. She lives somewhere over the hills.”
“Any intel on who she’s living with?” Turner asked.
“No. But she can’t be alone. How would she survive?”
“She’s probably with her family.” Turner scratched his beard. “We should scout her location. See what she’s got in terms of resources.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I can send a couple of guys after dinner to do some recon.”
“Please be discreet,” Elijah said. “I don’t want to raise an alarm until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“True. It might just be a normal family living in the woods.”
“She was clean, well fed. I think they have a cabin somewhere.”
“We’ll find it,” Turner said.
“Good. Report back to me directly.”
“Of course.”
“And be careful. I don’t want to lose any men. We’re a strong force to be reckoned with right now, and we must keep our numbers,” Elijah said. “It’s the Lord’s will.”
“Amen.”
“Good. Good. Be sure to eat well. I want you out there tracking that girl until you find her. I don’t care if it takes all night.”
“We have flashlight mounts on most of the shotguns. We’ll be able to see just fine.”
“But don’t let her see you,” Elijah warned. “For now, I simply want to gather information. I don’t want to engage until we know whether or not it will be to our advantage. Most people without groups will die within the next few months. People typically don’t stockpile enough food or water to last longer than a few weeks, if that.”
“We could wait them out,” Turner said.
“Maybe. I prefer not to speculate. Let’s get some real intelligence.”
“Yes, sir.” Turner saluted before turning on his heel and marching back to his picnic table full of men assigned to security.
Elijah stood back and watched his flock. Forty-three people relied on him to run a tight ship. He had no doubt he’d been called by God to fight the final battle of Armageddon. He’d recognized President Grayson as the antichrist the moment he’d come to power through a rigged election. He’d only had six months to prepare for the end times, and here they were, ready to face the final battle of good versus evil.
He slipped away from the gathering and headed toward the arsenal in the shed behind the church. He carried the key to it around his neck at all times. Turner carried a duplicate. He was the only man Elijah would trust with the weapons.
Over the years, Turner had proven to be a great leader within the congregation. He’d fought for America in the Gulf War. A soldier through and through, Turner viewed any attack on the congregation as a direct attack on God’s chosen ones. Because make no mistake, they were chosen, and Elijah intended to fulfill his sacred pact with the Lord.
He unlocked the large padlock on the shed and opened the doors. Turner had rounded up all the weapons within two days after the bombs dropped. They had twenty-eight shotguns, fifteen rifles, t
wenty pistols, fourteen revolvers, and one, beautiful .50 caliber M2 Browning machine gun someone had stored in his garage.
Elijah didn’t ask how the man had purchased the gun. California’s excessively restrictive gun laws didn’t apply now. Although they’d searched all the houses in the valley, he suspected some people still hid guns in their homes. On the one hand, he didn’t blame them for being wary, but on the other, he wanted all the guns, especially the large-caliber guns.
On day three, they’d had to fire the M2 at a group of insurgents coming up from El Toro Road. They’d fired one warning shot as the trucks had breached the barricade. When the insurgents didn’t stop, they’d burned through half a belt of ammo. Unfortunately all that firepower had destroyed the other men’s trucks, rendering them completely useless. They’d been able to siphon some gas out of one tank that hadn’t been punctured, but the rest was a total loss.
Elijah didn’t mind though. Let the carnage stand as a warning to others, and as a reminder to his flock to stay in line.
He locked the gun shed. As he turned to leave, Patrice came around the corner.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I overheard Turner talking to some men. Did you tell them to go after that girl?”
“What were you doing listening in on conversations that don’t involve you?”
“You should leave her and her family alone,” she said. “They’ve done nothing to us.”
“They may be an asset to the family.”
“These people aren’t your family. I’m your family.”
“You’re my wife, but you sure as hell don’t act like one.” He snarled and grabbed her upper arm. “If you really cared about me, you’d do as I say and stop asking so many questions all the time. A woman’s place isn’t to ask questions, it’s to obey. And right now you’re disobeying me.”
When she cowered, he smiled. Much better.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I was just worried about your intentions.”
“Never mind my intentions. Are you done serving the stew?”
“Yes.”
“Then you should be processing acorns with Melinda. She knows how to behave like an obedient wife.”
“Her husband’s dead.”