The Independents (38 page)

Bishop decided to break the silence and asked, “Who are the skinnies your men kept asking me about?”

Without breaking stride, Deacon Brown responded, “Wh
en the plant exploded,
thousands
died
instantly. There were only about 500 people left as far as we could tell
. Fortunately, by the grace of Go
d, the gas cloud was released on Sunday morning
,
and our service here
was especially full that day
. I think the news reports and power outage caused a lot of the
townspeople
to try and get closer to their maker.
T
hat morning
our sanctuary
was overflowing
with people
. The
good L
ord and a light breeze kept the poison away from this building.
”

Deacon Brown turned
and
looked
at the statue of Christ.
“At first, we extended help to anyone who came to our doors. No one knew how far the cloud would
spread or how long before it dissipated
. It didn’t kill everyone instantly. We had the entire annex building full of victims with damaged lun
gs who were
barely breathing. Eventually, they all died, but for the first few hours
,
it was a horrible experience.”

She turned to Bishop with an injured
expression on her face, “Everyone was scared to return to their homes. Rumors started spreading that the poison could kill just from touching something exposed to it. The town had been without electricity for two days, but one
member
of the congregation was a
HAM radio operator. He went to his house
and
sent out a call for help. W
e kept waiting on some type of emergency personnel to respond, but they
never did. After a f
ew days, some of the men decided to
explore t
he town. They came back and reported having seen b
odies everywhere. The chemical plant was still burning
,
as were several other buildings in the area. We all decided to stay here until help arrived. The church was always having a food drive for our missions. The basement was full of canned goods
,
and we managed to eat pretty well that first week.”

Bishop could see the pain
in the woman’s eyes as she recounted the tale
. Her voice remained strong and steady
, as she continued. “I think it was about 10
days after the explosion when a group of men showed up at the front door. They claimed their families were starving and asked
if we had any food. The
p
astor told
them we could share a little and led them down to the basement where our storeroom was located. I wasn’t there, but was told that a disagreement broke out about how much they could take with them. One of the men pulled a gun and shot our reverend. The men ran out
with all the food they could
carry.”

Deacon Brown si
ghed and then continued walking.
“That next day some of our men left
our facility to return
to their homes. People needed prescription medications
,
and we had two diabetics in our flock.
It wasn’t long before they came back here,
panting and exhausted. It seems they
found
looters in their homes and had barely escaped with their lives.
At that time, we were housing about
200 people in our congregation and
another 50 or so of the towns
people who had come here
to
help. The next day, the looters showed up here
again
. There was a group of about twenty of them
,
and they didn’t even ask. They just kicked in the door and headed directly to the basement storage
area
. A couple of our men tried to reason with them
,
and when that didn’t work, a fight broke out.
T
wo of our members
were shot,
and another was badly beaten. When word
of that incident
spread
, several o
f the
men banded together, to go back to their homes and
bring back what they could.
One of our members was the officer in charge of the Alpha National Guard unit
,
and no one had thought to raid the armory. He brought back the few weapons they had there and a small amount of ammunition. That ended up saving us.”

Deacon Brown led Bishop to another set of stair
s
, this one rising upward. As they climbed the steps, the ever-vigilant Atlas switched
on a flashlight. There were two flights that suddenly ended at an office door labeled “Reverend Brown.” Bishop gave the Deacon a questioning look, and she said, “Reverend Brown was my father. I’ve taken over his office.”
Now is probably not the time for any jokes about the preacher’s daughter.

The door opened into a spacious reception area that fronted a large, well-appointed office. The church had been constructed so
that the windows of the pastor’
s office looked out over the main parking lot and off in the distance, the town of Alpha.
Atlas turned off the flashlight
,
and Deacon Brown motioned for Bi
shop to take in the view
.

The church grounds were extensive
for such a small community. The
main building where they were standing was surrounded by two other metal buildings of good size. A large blacktopped parking lot was in the center of the complex.

Bishop could see fires burning around the edge of the grounds. Someone had taken trash barrels and strategically placed them around the perimeter, each producing both heat and light. He could also see a wall had been constructed. Church busses, cars from the congregation, two large trees that had been cut down
,
and an assortment of o
ther items had been placed
to make a fo
rmidable barrier around the property
. It reminded Bishop of the gas station in Meraton, but on a much larger scale. Deacon Brown motioned for Bishop to have a seat.

“Over the next few months, the town basically settled into two camps – our congregation and everyone else. Again,
the
L
ord smiled on us
, because the church’s property bordered
the city’s water wells. We managed to extend o
u
r control over that area and eventually tap
p
ed int
o the supply after the power
failed. For a while, a kind of barter system took place. If you wanted wat
er, you could bring something you were willing to
trade to our front gate
,
and we would provide water in exchange. That worked well until someone organized the people out in the town. Open hostility and
pitched
gun
fights began to occur. That’s when we built the wall around the church.”

Clearly intrigued,
Bishop asked, “Who organized the
townspeople
? Why don’t you work together?”

“Oh
,
we tried.
It was a group of prisoners who escaped from the county jail
that
took over.
I tried to work with them – I tried several times, but they wanted to be in control. They wouldn’t compromise.”

The beautiful woman now sitting behind the desk seemed to drift off in thought. There was just enough light coming through the window that Bishop could make out her expression. He thought she was reliving some of the events that
she
had just shared
,
and he decided to remain q
uiet. Eventually, she looked up.
“So Bishop, I’ve told you my story,
how about you fill me in on those papers
? I want to hear your story.”

Bishop wasn’t sure why, but he decided he could trust the woman. It took him twenty minutes to fill her in on the high points, including his quest to
get medical equipment. After he f
inished, she asked a few questions and then drifted off again
. When she had thought
it all through, she said, “So, there is a 16
-
year
-
old boy out there in the desert somewhere alon
e
right now? Aren’t you a little worried about him?”

Bishop sat straight up, “David! Oh shit, I forgot all about David.”

Bishop
’s
language drew a dirty look from Deacon Brown, but she quickly got over it. “Do you know where he is?”

“I know where I told him to go.”

Deacon Brown laughed at that remark
.
“Teenagers don’t always follow instructions
,
I’ve found. Atlas, go get Bishop’s equipment
,
would you?”

The huge man hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave his mother alone with this s
tranger. She sensed his apprehension
and added, “It will be okay
,
son. He’s not going to hurt me.” Deacon Brown opened a desk
drawer, pulled out a small automatic pistol,
and sat it on the desk. “Go
on, now.
I’ll be fine.”

After he
left, Deacon Brown seemed to make a d
ecision.
“You
’ll
not be harmed here. If you wish, you can use that radio we found on you
to
call David. Tell him a group of my men will meet him and bring him into the compound. After you both have had a chance to rest, you are free to go on about your busines
s. I must warn you though, the c
ollege campus is right in the middle of their territory
,
and I would advise against trying to go there. Chances are, the equipment and supplies you are after have already been discovered. Any sort of medicine is more valuable than gold these days
,
and I would imagine it’s all been picked clean.”

Bishop nodded and felt it was his turn to ask a question.
“Why don’t you expand your area? Are they that strong?”

She laughed at Bishop’s remark.
“We have lost over 70 men in the last few months trying to do just that. The patrol you ran into tonight was there to make sure they don’t mass against us anymore. They have hit us very hard twice in the last week. They gather up dozens of men an
d try to overrun the wall. We patrol
so we can have a little warning. I’ll risk another one to get David inside the walls safely.”

Atlas returned with Bishop’s gear, including his weapons. As the big man handed Bishop his equipment, he hesitated before handing over Bishop’
s rifle,
knife,
and pistol. The d
eacon nodded to him
,
and the weapons were returned to the owner
.

Bishop immediately picked up the radio and keyed
the
mic.
“David, this is Bishop, can you read me?”

A few moments later, two clicks answered his call. “David, click twice if you can talk, once if you are in danger.”

Click, click.

“Okay
,
son
. H
ow are you?”

“Bishop
,
are you okay? I did what you asked, but I saw all those men sho
oting at you. Are you all right
?”

“I’m fine
,
David. Now listen to me carefully, I want you to meet me at the burned out gas
station in…” he looked at the d
eacon, who mouthed the words one hour, “
…I
n one hour. Do you understand?”

“Yes
,
Bishop, I understand. The burned out gas station in one hour.”

“Okay
, David.
I
’ll
meet you there
,
and I will have company. They are friendlies. Click twice if you understand.”

Click, click.

Bishop took a few minutes to load up his gear. Deacon Brown ha
d a wash
cloth and water brought to
the
office wh
ile she left
to issues orders for another patrol. When
Bishop had removed the blood from his scalp, he felt better. He gingerly applied a topical antibiotic crème to the cut and admired his rather large goose egg.
Terri always did think I was hardheaded. I guess she was right.