Overthrown: The Death of America....Book Three

[day late]

How did it happen? Russell didn't understand. It made no sense. America was the most powerful nation on earth, once. It was the virtual bread basket of the world. It was the great bastion of freedom and opportunity for all people. At least it was. It wasn't any of those things now. So what happened? How did it happen? How could the American people become a nation under siege from their own government? He shook his head as he sat in the darkened room, thinking of the recent past. Trying to figure it all out, he thought of the time line of events.

Why was it such a surprise when California finally had 'the big one' when
everyone knew it was coming for so long? His mind went back to his former
girlfriend. When she had suggested moving to Los Angeles, he had told her in no uncertain terms that he wouldn't do it, and why.

"I refuse to live any place where the ground moves under you."

"But you could make a lot more money out there." Rebbecca had insisted.

"What good will that do us when everything comes crashing down around our ears? Besides, I admit that people make a lot of money out there. They have to make a lot, because everything is so expensive. Have you ever seen what they charge for rent out there?"

"Well, if you are making more money, that doesn't matter. You'll be able to afford it. And what about all of the people who already live there? They live with earthquakes all the time. They aren't afraid of it like you are."

"I see. So if everyone jumps off of a sky scraper because it is such an exciting trip on the way down, you think we should do the same. What about that sudden stop at the bottom? It's quite a heart stopper I've heard."

"Oh, you're just being paranoid."

Things had only gotten worse there. Rebbecca had her heart set on moving to L.A. Not long after that she left him to become rich and famous. That had been three years ago. He never heard from her again. After the quake, he did hear from her sister. Somehow she felt that if Rebbecca had died in the quake, it was all his fault. She did her best to make the point, rather loudly, that if he had been with her, he could have saved her. But like so many other things lately, that made no sense either.

He explained to her that from what he had heard, the coastline of California was riddled with underwater caves that went who knew how far inland. Was it his fault that when the quake happened those caves were weakened and collapsed? From what had been shown on T.V. back then, major portions of the entire coast had dropped anywhere from two to forty feet straight down. What hadn't been knocked down had been flooded when the Pacific Ocean roared in. There were places where the new coastline was thirty to fifty miles from where it used to be. Even Death Valley had been flooded. Finally, she had to admit that the quake and the resulting loss of life wasn't his fault. But then he was responsible because he didn't talk her out of going to L.A.

Russell did his best to explain he couldn't stop her from going. He had proposed to Rebbecca. She was thrilled and immediately answered yes. Then she started talking about how they would need a suitable place for the two of them, hopefully near the beach. Once he made it clear that he was serious and wouldn't move there, she called it off. He had told her there was no reason to go to California. He had a good job right here. There had even been talk of a promotion, with a hefty raise to go along with it. Nothing he said made the slightest difference.

"Well, if you love your job more than you do me, I hope the two of you are very happy together."

After that announcement, she had stormed out and refused to see him or even accept his phone calls. Two weeks later she left. He didn't hold out any hope that she was still alive. Casualty reports he had heard placed the toll of known dead and missing at about eighty percent of the population anywhere near the former coast.

Russell shifted his weight in the chair as he sat in the dimly lighted room. All of that had happened in the spring of that year and had been bad enough. Then the mega-hurricane had slammed into the southeastern part of the country, in the early fall. When the storm had gotten big enough there was a mass exodus of the entire coastline from South Carolina to Texas. It had saved countless lives, especially in Florida. However once the storm had finally ended, most of the refugees refused to go home again. With the amount of damage done, there wasn't any point. Half of Florida simply wasn't there anymore, and the damage to the rest of the southeast was almost as bad. Why go home, spend months cleaning up and then start over, when they could just start over where they were?

Russell, by his own admission, had always been something of a 'geek' and ran his companies web site. He had never realized just how much of the countries produce, fruit and citrus had come from there. He found out when the cost of all of it went through the roof. Most of it had to be imported now. And the lack of quality control in many of the exporting countries that sold to America caused an occasional outbreak of disease.

Not only that, but the storm had done much more. Virtually the entire fishing fleet down there had been wiped out. Fishermen in other parts of the country saw this as an opportunity, and honestly did their best to supply the needs of the nation. At a modest profit, of course. But there simply was no way do it. Some saw this as a chance to expand not only the size of their individual companies, but also the size of their fishing grounds. For a short time, they did. But with everything else going on, people had forgotten something. Oil wells throughout the Gulf of Mexico had been destroyed. That oil was now pouring into the Gulf, where it was picked up by the Gulf Stream and carried to points further north. There wasn't any chance of stopping them before sea life became affected all along the eastern sea board. The result? The cost of sea food followed that of produce.

But it didn't stop there. Not only were the oil wells gone, but so were many of the refineries. It didn't matter if they could pump crude or not. There was no way to turn it into fuel. The cost of gas followed the others. But that didn't really matter very much. The government was taking all o0f the fuel for the military and to at least attempt to provide electricity for the major cities. There was no fuel to be had at any price by the general public.

That was when the second mass migration started. Since the cities were the only places with power people began moving there in droves. Most people simply were not prepared to live as their ancestors had done. They didn't have homes that were able to protect them in cold weather without electricity. Some weren't able to stay in the smaller towns or in homes and farms scattered across the land because of reasons of either health or age. And so began a mass migration to the cities. The government even encouraged the idea. They announced that with most of the people in or near the cities, it would be much easier to provide all the necessary services.

On the other hand, cities which were already crowded now became almost intolerable. The influx of people overwhelmed everything. Grocery stores which had already been in short supply of everything except customers, now had shelves that remained empty. Medical services got to the point that the only people actually admitted were those with life threatening injuries who were deemed by the government to be worth trying to save. Elective surgery became a thing of the past, and anyone over the age of sixty weren't treated at all. Any not needing round the clock care were sent home to recover, if they could. Some rooms did become available when terminal patients were sent to die someplace else. No treatment, no drugs and no chance was given them. After all, they were dieing anyway. Supplies and services were to be saved for those who could be helped. As long as the government said they would be allowed to be helped.

As overcrowding became worse, city, county, state and the federal government passed measures which required anyone with even the smallest of spare rooms, to open their homes to the refugees. It didn't go over very well.

Law enforcement, which was already spread to it's limit, were ineffective in combating the mushrooming crime which took place. It started with home owners and refugees going at each other. Police were called out time and again to stop fights or even to find the killer of one or the other. Gangs and members of organized crime took full advantage of the situation. Robbery, murder,burglary, especially of any place that might have either food or fuel, became commonplace.

As he remembered it, that was about the time martial law was declared. Russell wasn't a stupid man. He knew that the government must have been planning this for some time. How else could the sudden appearance of so many foreign troops, encircling the major cities be explained? Once they had surrounded a city, nearly every road leading out of town was permanently blocked. The few that remained open all had checkpoints. They were run by hard men with cold eyes, body armor and automatic weapons. Anyone trying to run the checkpoint was shot. The only ones allowed to leave the city had to have a special permit that was impossible to get, unless you worked for the government.

Yes, he knew the time line of events. But how could God allow it to happen like this? Russell was a Christian, but when asked would admit he hadn't seen the inside of a church for years.

"Russell. Are you still out here? It's almost nine-thirty. I thought you were going to bed an hour ago."

He turned his head to see his mother standing in the hallway, with an old fashioned oil lamp burning brightly in her hand. Inwardly he sighed. He had warned her repeatedly not to do that. There was no point in letting people outside the home know they still had oil for their lamps. But this was Mom. Her eyesight wasn't as good as it used to be. Everyone went to bed early these days. With no electricity for the T.V., radio or other entertainments they used to have, there was little else to do. Her question wasn't unusual. He thanked God that just before martial law was declared he had managed to talk her into coming to stay with him in the small town nestled in the Smokey Mountains.

"Hi Mom. Yeah, I was going to after I locked up. But I've just been sitting here kind of thinking about things."

She smiled at him gently as only a mother can do.

"Let me guess. It's Rebbecca again."

"No. Not really. Maybe a little, but mainly I've been thinking about how we got into this mess. I just don't understand how God could let all of this happen to us."

"Oh, Son.I thought you knew better than that. I tried to explain what could happen if this nation didn't change it's way years ago."

"I know. I just believed He was on our side and nothing like this could happen."

"I'll tell you what. Let's get some sleep, and we'll go over it again in the morning."

"I guess you're right. It's not like I can change anything."

"Of course I'm right. I'm your mother." She smiled at him again. "Now off to bed with you, young man. Before I have to spank you."

"Yes, Mother."

[day late]

Russell slept a little later than usual the next morning. Most mornings he would be up with the sunrise. A side benefit of going to bed as early as he had been so accustomed to doing. While he had promised his mother to go to bed, his mind wasn't quieted as he laid down after his prayers. It was over crowded with questions that seemed to have no answer. How could God be behind all of this? America had done so much for His Kingdom. He had tossed and turned much of the night and finally drifted off to the kind of a sleep that doesn't last long enough. It felt like no sooner than he closed his eye's, he opened them again and the sun was coming up.

He made his way down the hall towards the small kitchen, planning on fixing breakfast. He wasn't surprised to find it waiting for him. One thing about having Mom home was he didn't have to worry about cooking and cleaning very much. As a window, she had, of course, taken care of her home after her husband had died years before. But Russell, while always being clean, had never been neat. Now that she was living with him, she set to work caring for the two of them and the home. Russell believed she enjoyed it.

"Good morning, Mom." He greeted her as he entered.

"I was wondering it you were going to sleep all day. Are you alright, Son? It's not like you to sleep this late." She instinctively walked over and placed her hand against his forehead.

Russell smiled at her and took her hand. "I'm fine, Mom. I just had a little trouble sleeping, that's all."

"I see. Does this have to do with all those heavy thoughts you were having last night?" She looked at him. Concern for him clear in her eyes. "You know that Rebbecca is probably never going to come back, don't you."


"Mom, I know that. I knew, shortly after she walked out, that I'd never see her again. No, that's the last thing on my mind."

"I'm glad you are over it. I know it must have hurt. So you must be thinking about how all of this could have happened, if God was on our side? At least that's the impression I got from you last night."

"Yeah. That's about it."

"Well, sit and eat before it gets any colder and we'll have a nice little talk, like we used to do."

Russell sat down, and was already into his first mouth full before his mother could speak again.

"Before I say anything, you have to tell me why you believe that this nation shouldn't be judged."

Conversations around the table were commonplace for the two of them, so neither of them were offended if the other had to talk around a mouth full. Both had done it from time to time, but both also tried to avoid it. Russell chewed for a moment, and after swallowing spoke.

"Well Mom, I don't understand how any of this could be judgment. I mean look at how much we've done for The Lord, over the years. All of the missions work that's been done. Reaching people all over the world, for The Lord. All of that kind of thing. There are churches in every city and town in the country. Why would He be judging us?"

She looked at him thoughtfully for several moments before she spoke.

"Russell, that is so wrong on so many levels, I'm not sure where to begin." She sat in a chair across from him and continued. "I guess it's best to start with the big question, why? The answer is, why not? If this is a Christian nation, and The Bible says that judgment begins at the House of God, then why not judge us first? How can it be avoided? It can't. We must be judged before the rest of the world can be judged, because we belong to Him.

That's a general answer. But now I have to be a little more specific. I admit there have been many people won to The Lord on some of these missions trips. But what about the missionaries? Are they doing it for God's glory, or their own? The same can be said for a lot of the big churches. Are they building bigger churches for God's glory, or their own? I think you know a lot of them are in it for themselves."

"There's always been wolves in sheep's clothing." Russell agreed. "But I mean look at some of those churches. God must have blessed them."

"Maybe He did. Maybe He actually cursed them. A false preacher with a few rich followers can put on a pretty good show. But in the end, it will all come to nothing. In the mean time all the bad eggs are in one basket."

"That doesn't seem fair. I mean assuming you are right. Wouldn't a lot of innocent people get sucked into that kind of thing?"

"Possibly. But The Lord has a way of reaching those whom He has called. You also have to remember some things you seem to have forgotten. The Bible says that the way into destruction is wide and many people find it. But the way to heaven is narrow and there be few who find it. If people would only do what The Lord has told them to do, things would be a lot different. Paul said to study The Word to show thyself approved unto God. If people would just do that, they wouldn't be drawn away by every one who comes along claiming to have 'the answer'."

She paused for a moment and looking him in the eye asked him. "Do you remember when you were first learning to drive and you listened to every car sales commercial that came on the radio?" He nodded. "You were about ready to run out and buy whichever car sounded the best to you. Then I told you. The louder the commercial is, usually the worse the deal is.

Well, Son I hate to tell you this, but the same is often true about churches. Now, I'm not talking about what happens inside a church when The Holy Spirit comes down on a place and people can't help but dance with joy. Even King David did that. I'm talking about how they get people into that church in the first place. Are they promising anything besides salvation? If so, run as fast as you can and get out of there."

Russell shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair. He had in fact been thinking of going to one of those types of churches recently. Things had been getting bad for awhile, and he knew he needed to go back to church. With things getting worse all the time he thought that maybe these people who promised money and an escape before anything bad happened, such as the Tribulation, sounded like just the thing he needed. His mother's book, chapter and verse belief system brought him back to what he had learned as a child. His mother didn't believe in a pre-tribulation rapture, and had always taught her son the same thing. Where did he get the idea that there might be?

"Not judge us? Son, how could The Lord do anything else? Before all of this happened, do you know what was the biggest export America had was? It was pornography. We sold more of that, than cars, food, machines, anything you care to mention. How is God supposed to overlook that? Why would He? Then there is also the fact this country killed thousands of babies a day through abortion. And God has said that he will not hold blameless those who shed innocent blood. Not judge us? I don't see where He has any choice in the matter. We've forced his hand."

Again, Russell shifted uncomfortably. He had never mentioned to his mother about the time Rebbecca had come to him saying that she thought she was going to need an abortion. He had been shocked at the idea. She had told him not to worry about it. After all, it was just a piece of tissue at this point. It wasn't like it was a real person. He wasn't relieved until the next day when she had told him somewhere during the night, it turned out that she wasn't pregnant at all. Just a few days late. His mother continued on, unaware of the conflict within him.

"Son, we allowed the government to take God out of the schools, and what happened? They went to pieces. God was taken out of the court system, and what happened? We wound up with the most unfair laws imaginable. And it IS our fault. When these things happened, we accepted them with a 'you can't fight city hall' attitude. We should have fought them. We should have voted out the very first ones who tried anything and replaced them with Godly men. But we didn't. Not just your generation, but mine as well and even to some degree the ones who came before me. We didn't change it back to the way it should be, so now we answer for what we've done."

He couldn't argue with her logic, no matter how much he wanted to do so. She was right. When another path could have been chosen, it wasn't. Now they had to live with it. "But what can we do?"

"There is only one thing. It's the same thing we should have been doing all along. Get as close as you can to The Lord, and stay there." She paused again, and then after sighing went on with what she considered to be the most bitter news of their conversation. "Russell, I want you to start being extra careful whenever you go out of the house. The Bible teaches that in these times, people will betray one another. That means trust is going to be one of the most valuable things you can have. But be careful. Even those you think you trust right now will stab you in the back if it means they can get ahead. Even if it is only a little bit. Everyone always looks out for their own self interest, but in times like these, it gets worse."

"Mom, I'm always careful. I don't walk around with money just falling out of my pockets you know."

"It's more than that. If anybody even thinks you and I have more than we should, they WILL try to get it from us. That's why I always being in the plants at night. Almost everything I grow can be used in food. I'd like to keep it."

"Don't worry Mom. I'll be safe."

[Mysty]

This looks like a good one!!!!

[day late]

As he drove to work, Russell had things on his mind. First of all he was thankful that he still had a job. He worked for a service provider on the Internet. When things first started to get bad the government shut down the net to at least slow the spread of ever increasingly bad news. Russell had been put out of a job over night. However it was soon discovered that even though the government had different means for doing the same thing, there was still a need for some limited use of the Internet. Russell's employer happened to have some government contracts already, so his company was brought back on line. However access to that service was extremely restricted. Since he had always been a good employee, Russell was one of the first of only a few to be asked to return to work. The job also had a perk he hadn't expected. An allotment over and above the usual for gasoline and a few other things. That was how he managed to keep

the oil lamps at his home full at the time of the month when most people who had lamps were running out of it. The extra fuel allowed him to get back and forth to work.


At first this raised the eyebrows of his neighbors. But when Russell put the word out that he was keeping the government computers working and they only let him have enough gas to make it there and home again, people took the attitude of 'That figures. The government always looks out for themselves first.' and generally left him alone. He didn't bother to mention that someone made a mistake and he was allowed three gallons more than the trip actually took each week. He would siphon off this extra and use it for barter. Little did he know the trouble it would cause later.

But for now, it was a nice morning. The sunrise was especially beautiful today. Orange glowing clouds surrounded it as the day started. Aside from them, there didn't appear to be a cloud in the sky. There was a lot of wood smoke however. It wasn't bad. It was still early and most people hadn't started their breakfast fires yet. The weather was fair enough they weren't needed at night for warmth. After everyone went to bed the fires were either kicked down, or allowed to burn out. Again Russell said a prayer of thanks that he had been able to provide for his mother and himself when so many people were losing everything.

His mind went back to when he was out of work when a friend came to him. Dale had had the same misfortune of losing his job around the same time.

"Hey, Russ. How's it hanging, man?"

Dale was an okay sort of guy, Russell thought, even if a bit crude at times. He was popular at parties, and many people seemed to like to have him around. He was always good for a laugh. Russell had nothing against him, really. But while Dale wasn't a mooch, he always seemed to think that he was automatically included in whatever was being planned. After all. he and they were friends. In short, his opinion of himself far out-weighed the facts.

"Hi Dale. You tell me. Are you having any luck finding a job?"

"I wish. There is nothing going on around here. I have heard there is still some work up in the northeast. Maybe New York or someplace like that."

"I heard about a couple of those jobs. They are just doing the hardware end of computers. You know, replace parts so the traffic system, or something like that, keeps working. But not much else. And the pay isn't very good either. I haven't heard of anything else to tell you the truth."

"Maybe so, but I'm starting to think even that is better than nothing."

Russell looked at his friend. He couldn't remember Dale ever telling him he had done anything that involved either a wrench, a hammer or a screwdriver. Now here he was ready to take on a job like that. He couldn't picture Dale working with a meter in one hand trying to find a burned out component in a computer, while holding a sandwich in the other. And with as laid back as he had always been, Russell didn't see Dale acting with much urgency in any situation. As a matter of fact, he couldn't see a person of Dale's size moving quickly for anything, except maybe a free lunch.

"It could be that you're right. I guess some money is better than none. But I'm stuck here. I can't just run off and leave Mom behind. Someone has to look out for her."

"Yeah, well I can understand that. I worry about my folks too. But, you know, that may just be a good reason to move out of here. Mom and Dad are in a city with power, and there is talk of jobs in that area. We sure don't have much of either of those around here. Maybe I should move back in with them and see about getting a job."

"All I can say is, if you do that, good luck. Things are tough everywhere. I'm just happy I got Mom to move in with me. I can't imagine what it must be like where your folks are. I mean, with all the over-crowding and all. It must be hard to just make it from day to day. But I guess with your help they should do all right."

The look on Dale's face was priceless. The idea of providing for others, no matter who they might be and with no expectation of repayment, was totally foreign to him.

"Yeah, well I hope so." He answered. "But speaking of that kind of thing, I was hoping you could lend me a hand. I don't want to just show up at Mom and Dad's place with nothing in my hand. I was hoping you might be able to lend me some food before I go."

Russell looked again at his friend. He obviously hadn't missed too many meals since the government had restricted the amount of calories a person could take in on any given day. Now, here he was asking for food when he was obviously overweight. What was he thinking?

"I'm sorry Dale. I can't do it. I have to provide for two people, you don't. Mom can't even get a job anymore because they say she is too old. She can't help. That means it is all up to me. I can't support us and you. I'm sorry, but the answer is no."

"Now wait a minute. We've been friends for a long time, and I know you have stored food. You can let me have some of that. Then when things get better, I can repay you."

This was one of the things that bothered Russell about Dale. He seemed to
believe that people would believe whatever he said, just because he said it. The truth played very little role in whatever he had planned. True, he probably intended to repay Russell, but it wasn't likely to happen.

"Dale. Do you listen to yourself? You just told me that you were going to move back home with your parents? They live over two hundred miles from here. If I 'lend' you food and you move like you're talking about, how can I know that I'll ever see a single grain of rice again?"

"Hey, Russ. Come on man. This is me. You know I'm good for it."

"No. Actually I don't. You've never borrowed something like this before. And you, yourself just admitted you aren't going to be here very much longer. How can I trust that you will return any of the stuff you borrowed when you don't even live here anymore? No. I can't do it. I won't cut my mother short to take care of you."

"I can't believe this. Okay, fine. You don't want to help me, then don't expect any help from me in the future. And I thought you were a friend."

With that Dale had turned and left him. It was only about ten days later Russell learned that Dale had in fact left for the city and the home of his parents. He first found out that Dale had left when people he owed things to came looking for him. Russell thanked God he had been wise enough not to loan anything to Dale.

His drive would have been pleasant in days gone by. But now he passed numerous squatters camps. People who wouldn't go to the cities for help, but for whatever reason had no place else to go. He felt sorry for them, but what could he do? There were hundreds of people scattered out in various camps. He had to admit, sometimes he was a little worried as he passed these camps. He was concerned that one day these people who had nothing left to lose, might force him to stop. Then there would be no telling what might happen. He might be lucky enough to get out alive.


For their part, the people who watched him drive past were also thinking similar thoughts. It was hard to accept that while they had nothing someone else still had a life like they used to take for granted. They wanted their old life back. If the government was powerless to help them, maybe it was time to help themselves. Cars didn't come gown the road too often anymore. It shouldn't be very hard to make one stop. But what to do after the car stopped? Nobody was ready to cross the line into banditry, yet. And the government ban on firearms made sure that nobody wanted to attract attention by shooting them, unless they had to do so.

When he arrived at work, it was clear to Russell that security was heavier than normal. The officer at the gate actually stopped him to inspect his identification, instead of just waving him through as he usually did. He also couldn't help but notice extra guards patrolling the area as well as guarding the front door.

The guards were politely unhelpful, saying only that anything he needed to know would be told to him once he was inside. It didn't take long at all, before he and everyone else at work found out what was going on. The fears Russell had been having weren't entirely unjustified. It was known by the company higher-ups that there had been threats against their workers. The people who had become homeless and hungry were angry. They wanted to blame someone for their troubles. So naturally they began to blame people who still had what they used to have. They must have done something illegal to still have so much when everyone else had so little, after all. The night before, one of the people who worked there had been attacked on his way home for the night. He had been wise enough not to stop his car, but when the windshield was broken by a piece of concrete, the broken glass had cut his face. It wasn't bad, but there had been a lot of small pieces of glass. By
the time he had gotten home his face, neck and shirt were all red. He was taking the day off. The company, he was told, valued all of their employees. However it simply wasn't possible to provide protection to them all during their trip into work. That they had to do on their own. But once they arrived, they would be protected by the additional security people, in order to provide a safer work environment.

The meeting didn't last long, and Russell noticed that while the additional measures did protect them at work, it seemed to him that the major concern was protecting the place, not the people. As he sat down to begin the day, Russell wondered if all of this would have happened if the man attacked hadn't been a senior vice president of the company.

[day late]

It was three hours later that Russell learned that his life was about to take an unexpected turn. He had actually been somewhat bored. With such little traffic on the Internet he almost longed for the old days of trying to puzzle out the latest virus, Trojan or worm. They had given him a real work out as he found ways to defeat them. Now, of course, things were very different. These days with the government virtually the only user, the penalties for such activities ranged from severe to unbelievably harsh. The most common punishment was sending them to work at hard labor trying to reclaim and rebuild what they could in California and the Southeastern coastal areas. Both were near death sentences, from hard labor and disease.

"Hey, Russell. The Boss wants to see you in his office." Sam, a coworker told him. "Did you do something wrong?"

"Not that I know of. Why? Did you hear something?"

"Not really. But he seems to be upset about something important."

"I guess I'd better not keep him waiting then."

He wracked his brain trying to figure out what he might have done, or not done that could have his boss upset with him. When he reached the door he knocked and waited for a moment before he heard the expected,

"Come in."

"You want to talk to me, Sir?"

"Ah, Russell. Come in and have a seat. How are you doing?"

Russell noticed he didn't sound angry. If anything he was being a little more sociable than usual. It made him wonder what was up.

"I'm just fine, Sir. Thanks for asking. I hope you are the same."

"I'm doing alright. Russell I have a problem that I need you to handle for me. It's very important and you are the best man I have for the job."

He felt relief rush over him. "Thank you for your confidence. What is the problem?"

"Don't thank me just yet. You see, the problem isn't here. It seems that people at the Regional Directors office are having troubles with their system. Most specifically there is a problem with at least one of the machines in the Director's office, and he is not happy about it. You will have to go there and do what you can."

"Do we have any idea what the problem is?"

"I'm afraid I don't. I just know that Director Claire is very upset that he can't access certain files and information. And I should warn you, he is known to have a bad temper. I don't mean to put you in a tough spot, but he needs the files and we have to get them for him. Are you up for it?"

"I'll do what I can. Do you know how long I'll be gone and how I get there? I have my mother to care for and would prefer to not be gone for too long."

"How long it takes is up to you. Let's hope you can take care of this quickly. And you are going to have to take your car."

"Sir, I don't mind driving myself up there and back, but I don't have a gas allotment big enough for the trip."

The Boss smiled and opened a drawer. From it he took a plastic card and gave it to him.

"This is an unlimited allotment card. That will get you there and back again, just be careful not to lose it. I want you to fill up before you leave, and before you come back." He smiled at Russell. "And if you happen to 'accidentally' get a few more gallons than you need on the way back, we just won't talk about that. Think of it as a perk for a job well done."

"When do I leave?"

"As soon as you can. I'll send someone out to your house to tell your mother what's going on. But you must leave today. Right now in fact. Director Claire isn't a patient man."

"I'll fill up right away, grab some tools and be on my way."

"Good man. I knew I could count on you."

The men shook hands and Russell headed out to get his tools for the job ahead. As he watched Russell leave the boss honestly hoped he would see him again. He really was good at his job, but a bit naive. He didn't know just how unfriendly Director Claire could be. There were stories of people disappearing after going to see him.

It took no time for Russell to gather everything he thought he might need. And then he went to his car. He was startled almost out of his skin when the sound of gunfire came from the back area of the compound, near the gas pump. It wasn't much, only a few shots. He knew that with the economy in shambles many people had abandoned their beloved dogs and cats. They had gone wild and caused problems for everyone, so he wasn't too concerned. But he decided that since he had to fill up, he would approach the gate to the pump slowly. There was no point in getting shot before he could even leave to do the job. As he got close to the gate, he stopped and waited inside his car while two me with rifles at the ready came towards him. Behind them he could see one man face down on the ground. Another was leaning against the fence and was bleeding from one arm. One guard came up to the drivers door and spoke to him.

"Can I help you?" He didn't sound like he really wanted to be helpful.

"I have a trip to make. I need to fill up before I go."

"Let me see your allotment card, please."

Russell handed it over to him and he looked at it closely. His eyes widened slightly as he read the card was unlimited. He knew only a very few people had such cards and they were always people of importance. His attitude changed noticeably.

"I'm sorry, Sir. We have to be careful. You understand don't you?"

"Yes, of course. I know. So what is going on here?"

"These two were trying to help themselves to some of our fuel. They didn't want to stop when we found them. So we convinced them." He smiled coldly.

"You never gave us a chance to give up." The man against the fence said.

"Shut up, thief. You got better than you deserve. You're still alive." He then turned back to Russell and said, "Please go ahead, Sir. But try to stay away from that guy. If he tries something it would be unfortunate if you got between us."

"I'll be careful. Thank you."

Russell pulled up to the pump and carefully avoided getting between the man and the guard. He couldn't help but wonder about the man and his dead friend. He wondered what could cause someone to take such a risk. He suddenly realized how good he had it compared to other people. He was working, he had not only a working car, but a job that provided him with gas for it. As he drove away from his work place he thanked God for his blessings. He wasn't sure what awaited him at Director Claire's office, but it was work, and work was what everyone needed these days.

Just as it had been on the way to work that morning, Russell passed numerous squatters camps on his way to the Directors office. He thought about how hard it must be for them. One day they had a good life. The next, they had nothing. It wasn't bad enough that men were out of work. They had to still care for their families. At least he could do that much.

It took a little over two hours to reach the Directors office. When he arrived he found the office a place that was surprisingly quiet. True there was the expected sound of people working on keyboards, but there was none of the usual chatter between workers. It was as if they were all too afraid of their employer to risk attracting his attention. He found the Directors secretary who took him to one particular computer. He was told that nobody could get it to work, no matter what they did. Russell asked,

"What happened the last time it was working? Did someone try to go to a site they shouldn't have?"

"No! No, nothing like that. One of our people was installing an antiviral program, and when they restarted it, it started to come on but then just started acting crazy."

"I see. Can I talk to the person that tried to install the program?"

"Um, I'm afraid not." He was told. "Director Claire got upset with him and he isn't here any more."

"Oh. He got fired?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"Look. Around here it is best just to do your job and not ask too many questions. Get me?"

"I guess so. So what's so important on this machine?"

"I TOLD you. It's not good to ask questions. Can you fix it?"

"Let me take a look at it and then I'll tell you."

With the limited information he was able to gather, Russell had a good idea of what happened. Soon he had the machine open and was running some tests when he felt someone standing behind him. Looking up he found a man looking over his shoulder with a scowl on his face.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Director Claire. How long until you have this thing working? I have important information in there that I need access to right away."

"Well, Mr. Director, I don't know right now. I just got started and haven't found the problem yet."

"Just hurry it up."

It wasn't long before He found the problem. Whoever it was that installed the anti viral program had forgotten to shut down the existing anti viral program. When the machine was restarted the two programs saw each other as a virus and tried to eliminate one another. It got locked into a circle and had to be taken care of from the outside of the circle. That was where Russell came in. It took awhile to do it. And Russell couldn't help but notice that the Director was looking over his shoulder about every five minutes. Once he had gotten everything taken care of he was surprised when Director Claire came over to him, with a smile on his face and offered him a job. It seemed to Russell that the smile was something totally foreign to him. That along with what little he had learned from the secretary convinced him that no matter what the job paid, it wasn't worth it. He declined, siting an aged mother to care for and made his way out of the office. He couldn't help the feeling that he should have run. He didn't begin to feel better until after he had filled the tank on his car and was ten miles down the road, and headed home.

[day late]

One of the things that Russell was grateful for was that while he was driving, he had a radio. True, there was almost no music any longer, but it allowed him to keep up with what the government was willing to tell about what was happening in the rest of the country. He could also listen to what he thought were various none governmental broadcasts. Sometimes he could listen to a preacher that had come on the air recently. Other times it was a repeat broadcast of the same man, that he had previously missed. He had to admit, the man was certainly compelling. He was one of the reasons that Russell had considered going to a new church. It was one of his repeat broadcasts was on as Russell tuned in on the radio as he headed back home, and he planned on enjoying it.

"Brothers and Sisters. I know that many of you are frightened. It truth, we all are to some degree or other. These are difficult times, and no one denies that. Even our Lord said that times like these would come, but we should not be afraid. He WILL take care of us. That IS His promise. Have you left the cities to seek shelter in the wilds of this land? Listen to me. Our Lord promised to help us in times like these. That help is here. There is no reason to stay outside the areas of refuge and safety that have been provided for us. There is safety in these cities. There is power, hot water, food and everything else you might need. They ARE the places of refuge that have been promised to us as believers. Should anyone tell you differently, they are not true believers, and you should not listen to them. They seek to keep you from the refuge that God, Himself, has promised us. Come back into the cities. You will be taken care of by fellow believers and those whom The Lord has sent to help us. I know it might be hard to accept that men at check points, some of whom barely speak English, are here to help us. But they ARE here to do just that. Do not listen to those who might tell you otherwise. I have met with many of these people from foreign lands, and they mean us no harm. They are only here to help us as repayment for the help America has so freely given to so many peoples in so many lands over the years. Come into the cities and be safe. Be well fed. Be secure in your beds at night. This Is what The Lord would have you to do."

As he listened to the preacher, Russell couldn't help but remember that virtually everything he wanted was being promised by this man of God. Why shouldn't he listen to him and do it? After all, while he was happy taking care of his mother, it was more expensive to care for two than it was for one. And if his mother were in some kind of retirement home he would have more money to try to get restarted in this life. Then, once he had done that, he would be in a better position to bring her back into his home and care for her. But in the back of his mind, her words came back to him.

'Do you remember when you were first learning to drive and you listened to every car sales commercial that came on the radio? You were about ready to run out and buy whichever car sounded the best to you. Then I told you. The louder the commercial is, usually the worse the deal is.... Well, Son I hate to tell you this, but the same is often true about churches.'

He thought about that, after he had left the Director's office. He hadn't had a problem entering the city where the Director's office was located. In fact he was welcomed. But when he was leaving soldiers, most of whom spoke little or no English, seemed to not want to let him leave. They had orders not to allow anyone to leave the city, especially if they were trying to take anything of value with them. Those things included items such as food, tools, water filtering systems or anything else that might help a person survive outside the city and without electricity. The list was quite long. The soldiers made their job easier by simply not allowing any to leave except those who had a pass from the Director's office. Anyone who tried to leave either by vehicle or on foot, had everything they had with them confiscated before they were turned away. Those who resisted their efforts, in any way, were shot out of hand. With martial law in effect, their actions were never questioned and none of them was even brought up on charges of any kind.

The soldiers who stopped Russell on his way out of town seemed to actually be disappointed that they couldn't do anything to Russell, since he had received a pass from Director Claire's secretary before leaving the office. He had pulled up to the check point and when approached by the guard, had shown his pass.

"When you get this?" He had asked gruffly. His accent sounded either German or at the least Eastern European.

"About fifteen minutes ago. Go ahead and check it, if you want. It comes from Director Claire."

That made the guard pause and inspect the document more closely. He glanced into Russell's car, and seeing the tools he brought with him he said, "Tools are not allowed to leave city. You must leave here."

Russell knew he had meant to leave the tools, and he was tempted to do it. But the idea that some foreigner could tell him what to do rubbed him the wrong way.

"Check that thing again. It says that I can leave the city with everything I brought with me."

"We don't know what you bring to city. You leave tools here."

"I'm not going to argue with you. Just call Director Claire's office and see what the say."

The guard paused yet again. Dealing with average people was one thing. Dealing with Director Claire was another. People had been known to disappear when they did that. As he was thinking about it another car pulled up, they too were trying to leave the city. The guard considered that Russell had only a few tools that he really didn't know how to use and had no use for but the next car might have something else that would be of more value than simple tools that were commonly available.

"Okay. You go. Next time make sure everything is recorded before you come into city."

Russell had left the check point feeling quite uncomfortable over the whole affair. The radio brought him back to the present.

"Brothers and Sisters how can you prefer to remain outside everything that The Lord has provided for us? DO YOU HEAR ME? Come and join us in these places of refuge that are here and waiting for you. I know some of you might be fearful of the soldiers that have come from abroad to help us, because you can't speak to them or understand what they are saying. It's alright. Don't be afraid. They are here to help us. Come to the places of safety and refuge. You will be welcomed by them."

Russell snapped off the radio as he thought over what had happened such a short time ago. Again his mother's words came back to him. 'The louder the commercial is, the worse the deal is. As much as I hate to say it, the same is true for churches'. It seemed to him that his mother was right on this one. The preacher was certainly loud enough. And his own experience had proved to him that once you entered the city the odds were that you would not get out again. Not without someone getting hurt or even killed. Yet this man was pleading for people to come in, and was using his position as a preacher to lend authority to his words. While it sounded good, the fact was things were not as good as he made them out to be. As always, Mom was right. He spent the next several miles thanking God for his wise mother.

Returning to his little town was nothing like what had just happened. Nobody even gave him a second glance. When he drove into the yard of his home, he looked at the gas gage. Deciding that no one would miss them he removed three gallons of gas from the tank. He securely locked the five gallon can away, and then tried to call work to ask for the rest of the day off.

"Russell, what are you doing home so early?" Mom wanted to know.

"I had a job out of town, and just got back." He answered.

"Yes, I know that. Your employer sent a nice young man on a bicycle over to tell me. He seemed to think you would be gone for a day or two."

"That's the way it is in my line. Sometimes the biggest problems have the easiest fixes. This one was real easy. Right now I'm trying to see if I can get the rest of the day off, since they didn't expect me back this soon."

"Well, just don't do anything that will get you in trouble."

"I won't, Mom.

Not surprisingly the phones weren't working. That meant that he had to drive in and report to the boss. Maybe he could get the rest of the day off for getting the job done so soon, maybe not. There was only one way to find out. He got back into the car and was getting ready to leave when a neighbor came jogging up to him.

"Hey, Russell. Have you got a minute?"

"Hi Bruce. That's about all I have. I've got to get back to work."

"Lucky dog. At least you've got a job." Bruce leaned over to speak quietly to him through the window. "I was hoping we could do a little business this afternoon. If you know what I mean."

Russell knew exactly what he meant. He was looking for gas. He was happy that he had just managed to get some more. Bruce was always good for a trade. He didn't know how he did it, but Bruce usually had food or medicine in exchange for the fuel. And Russell always tried to drive a hard bargain.

"Maybe a bit later. Why don't you drop back by before curfew?"

"Sure thing. I think I've got something you'll really like this time." He smiled slyly. "Of course it will cost more, but I'm sure you'll find it worth it."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Later. But trust me, you'll like it."

"Well, at least give me a clue."

"Let's just say it'll keep you warm all over. That should interest you. Winter's coming, you know."

"Alright. I've got to run. See you later."

He pulled out and headed to work. He thought of how grateful he was that his mother was at home. Nobody was going to break in while she was there. The fuel was safe enough for now, and if what Bruce was saying was true whatever it was could probably be kept in the house instead of the shed in the back yard. Relaxing behind the wheel, he left to go back to his job. Who knew? Maybe his boss would just give him the time off for getting finished with the job for the Director so quickly.

[day late]

"I knew my faith in you wasn't misplaced." Russell's boss told him when he returned to work. "I don't know how they manage it, but it seems that when the government wants to talk to you, the phones always work. I heard from Director Claire's office a short time ago. The Director was very pleased with your work."

"I always try my best." He answered modestly. "But I have to tell you, I never want to go back to that place. It was just really strange over there. Those people act like they are terrified of the Director. It made me pretty uncomfortable."

"Well, I don't want to let go of you either. Your skills are quite valuable to me here. Don't worry about it. I know when I have a good thing, and you're it. I'm not about to let them take you from me. As a matter of fact, since you got done so early, why don't you just go ahead and take the rest of the day off. We can handle things here. And if not, I know where to find you. I'll send someone over if the need comes up."

"Thank you, Sir. I really appreciate that."

"You earned it. Now, get out of here before I change my mind."

Russell wasted no time leaving for the day. He was actually feeling lucky and topped off his gas tank before going home. He knew that with this gas, his supply went up to a whole twenty gallons. Things were looking up for once. He was certain there were a number of people he could make some very good deals with for that amount of gas. After all, he could get twenty steaks for a single gallon. Which brought to mind Bruce and his mysterious deal. He wondered what he had to offer this time. Somehow Bruce managed to come up with things that once were common. Aspirin, anti-biotic creams and ointments, bandages and even the occasional prescription drugs were his stock in trade. So what did he have this time? He seemed to believe it was worth a lot more than the usual two or three gallons. And those things wouldn't keep him warm. What could it be?

Russell would have shunned doing any kind of business on the black market once upon a time. But times had changed. Things were so very hard now. If someone wanted to just get by they had to do deals under the table and avoid government involvement. Taxes were absolutely through the roof. A man couldn't survive without doing some kind of deal now and then. That was the reason he didn't feel bad about what he was doing. He figured it wasn't his fault if people like his boss over estimated how much gas he needed to get back and forth to work. And he didn't feel obligated to correct their mistake. They gave him the gas, so what he did with the excess was his business. There was nothing wrong with trading what belonged to him.

Russell got back home well before curfew. He entered the house quietly, because he knew that sometimes his mother would take a nap in the afternoon. Sure enough, he found her peacefully sleeping on the couch in the living room. Gently he eased his way back outside with the idea of trying to prepare firewood for this evenings fire. Without electricity it was the only way to warm the house before settling in for the night. As he looked at the pile of wood he had gotten for only two gallons he thought about how to make the big pieces into smaller ones without waking his mother. That was when Bruce showed up.

"Russell! I thought I saw you car. You're home early."

"Hi Bruce. Yeah, the boss gave me the rest of the day off for doing a good job earlier today. So what's going on? You said you had something you wanted to trade."

"Honestly, I don't really want to, but I need a few extra gallons this time to make another deal. So I have to do what I have to do. Are you going to be here for awhile? There is someone I want you to meet."

"I'll be here. I figured that I'd use the extra time to get a few things done around here."

"Okay. Do me a favor and hang around for awhile, will you?"

"Sure."

Bruce smiled, gave him a thumbs up and quickly left. Russell was still wondering what it was all about, but decided to use the time to the best advantage and began to select pieces of wood that could be easily broken in hopes that the noise he wouldn't disturb Mom. He found out his concern wasn't necessary.

"Russell. Did I hear you talking to someone?"

"Hi Mom. Bruce was over. He said he wants to make another deal. I'm sorry if we woke you."

"No, you didn't. I just woke up and heard voices." She paused for a moment. "Son, I have to tell you, I'm not so sure you should be making all of these deals with Bruce. He seems nice enough, but I'm not so sure that he is the kind of person you should be doing business with."

"Mom, you have to do business with people just to get by these days."

"Sweetheart, I understand that. You may have been born late in life, I'm not so old that I have forgotten how the world works. I remember doing similar things when I was young. But there are deals, and then there are deals. I'm afraid some of his deals are going to lead to trouble for you."

"Don't worry Mom. I'm not going to do anything that will cause problems for us."

"Russell, I'm not worried about me. I've lived my life and it has been a very good one. I'm just waiting for The Lord to take me home where I can be with your father again. I'm worried about you. You still have many years ahead of you and I don't want you to spend them in jail."

"It's okay Mom. I'm not going to do anything like that."

"What about Bruce's deals? He might ask you to do something that isn't legal. What do you do then?"

"That's simple. I say no."

"I hope so. But sometimes that choice can be hard to make. Especially in times like these. You never know what's going to happen next."

"Mom, I like my freedom. I'm not going to do anything to change that. No matter what." As they had been speaking, Russell had been collecting firewood. Now he was ready to return to the house. "Let's head back inside. Maybe I can convince you while we get ready for supper."

They went back into the house, with Russell carrying the firewood. Soon, he had a small fire going in the cast iron stove that he had in the kitchen area. It wasn't much of a fire, but at this time of day, a large one wasn't needed.There was just enough to provide coals that could be used to restart the fire for both cooking and warmth. They continued to talk.

"You know Mom, I've always wondered why you and Dad didn't have any other children. Why is that?"

She smiled at him and the memories the question brought to her mind.

"Well, it wasn't for a lack of trying. Your father was always, shall we say, very interested in the subject. And truthfully, I enjoyed it as much as he did. No, it wasn't that. It was The Lord's will, I guess. We tried for a few years before we went to the doctor. He checked us both and said there wasn't any reason he could find for me not to conceive. It was just one of those things. Eventually we quit thinking about it and got on with our lives. Then when I was forty two I started feeling bad and went to the doctor and he told me it was morning sickness. Your father was with me at the time and we just about brought the roof down." She chuckled and then went on. "After that, the doctor made a real mistake. He suggested that given my age We should consider an abortion. You should have seen the look on your father's face. I wasn't sure if he would spit on the doctor, punch him in the nose or just rip his head off and be done with it. Needless to say, he was outvoted. And you never gave us a reason to regret the choice."

Russell hugged her and then told her. "Thanks, Mom. I love you too."

"Oh Son, you don't understand. Your father may be with The Lord, but we both do more than love you. We are proud of you."

Before he could speak, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it. It's probably Bruce."

Sure enough, Bruce was at the door, and behind him was a rather attractive young woman. She seemed to be nervous for some reason.

"Hey Bruce. Come on in. Who's your friend?"

"Russ, this is Sandra. Sandra, say hello to Russell."

She had been looking down as they entered the home. Now she glanced up and quietly said, "Hi." Then quickly looked away, like she wanted to be someplace, anyplace else.

"Hello Bruce. I see you have company."

"Hello Mrs. Porter. This is Sandra."

She held out her hand. "Hello Sandra. It's nice to meet you."

She smiled timidly and shook hands. "Same here, Mrs. Porter."

"Russell, I understand you and Bruce have some things to talk over. Why don't you boys go do what you have to and Sandra and I can have a little visit." Turning back to the young woman she asked. "How would you like a cup of tea?"

At this Sandra visibly brightened and answered. "That would be wonderful. If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all. I try to keep some water hot all the time. You never know when a cup will be just the thing. Please take a seat, and I'll be right back." She looked at the men and said, "You're still here?"

"Come on out back Bruce. That's Mom's way of saying she wants some time alone." They left together.

Almost at once Mrs. Porter returned with two cups, a small steaming pot of water and a canister filled with loose tea. She measured the tea out and added it to the pot.

"That will take a minute or two to steep. So why don't we chat? How long have you known Bruce?"

"Not long. I sort of came to work for him a few weeks ago."

"Work for him? That's sounds strange. What could you do for him? Bruce doesn't have a job as far as I know. How does he pay you?"

"I kind of help him and he gives me room and board."

"Excuse me if I seem a little nosy, but how did all of this come about?"

Sandra's face fell. "I used to live in California. I went home to New York visit my parents. I was driving back home when the earthquake happened. I'd almost made it back.There wasn't any choice after that. I turned around and started back for my parents home. But I was out of money, and with my bank underwater I couldn't get any more. I tried to get in touch with my folks. But that was when one of the first food riots happened. They lived near a disbursement center. I found out they were killed in the fighting. I had nowhere to go. No way to get there, and nothing to live on. I ended up doing whatever I could to get by until I met Bruce. And, well, I signed a contract with him saying I would do whatever he needed done and he would provide room and board."

Mrs. Porter almost hated to ask, but she felt she had no choice. "What does 'whatever he needs done' mean."

Sandra looked down. "It means whatever it might be."


"So Bruce, How much gas do you need this time?"

"I'd say fifteen gallons should do it."

"FIFTEEN gallons! What have you got to trade that could be worth that much?"

"I'm ready to trade Sandra."

[day late]

"You WHAT? How can you trade a person?"

"She sort of belongs to me. That's how."

"What are you talking about? You can't own a person. That's slavery, and it's illegal."

"Okay. Maybe I put that the wrong way. I don't really own her. It's more like indentured servitude. She signed a contract with me of her own free will, and I have the right to sell or trade that contract to someone else. If she wants out, all she has to do is pay it off."

"Pay it off! How? And how much? There aren't many jobs out there right now." Russell stopped as a thought came to him. "Wait a minute, let me guess. You have the right to say where and when she can work."

Bruce smiled at him smugly. "Well now that you mention it, yeah, I do. And when you let me have that gas, you can. Just so you know, the pay off is $1,000. Hey I told you it was something that would keep you warm at night. She's real good at that."

Russell couldn't believe his ears. Mom's teaching came back to him as he remembered a part of scripture she had taught him about things evil people would by and sell in the end times.

Rev 18:13 beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and souls of men.

Before now, he had his doubts about these being the end times, instead of just hard times. But this incident proved it to him more than anything else that had ever happened to him. His mind was overwhelmed at both the thought and by Bruce's proposition.

"Bruce, what could make you think I would want something like this deal?"

Not understanding Russell's objection he answered.

"Hey Russ. You can't fool me. We've known each other too long for that. You got a good look at Sandra. The only men who wouldn't be interested in her are too young, too old, gay or dead."

"Now look..."

"RUSSELL!" Mom's voice came from the back door. He knew by the sound of it she was more than angry. She was furious.

"I'll be right back." He turned and went to her. He didn't know what had her upset, but he was glad to have a moment to recover himself before he sent Bruce packing with instructions to never return or speak to him again.

"What is it Mom?"

"Do you know about what's going on between Bruce and Sandra?" Her eyes almost seemed to burn right through him.

"Mom, I swear to you. I just found out. He wants to trade her for gas. Can you believe that? Don't worry. I told you I'd say no, and I was just going to tell him 'Hell No' and kick him out of here. Permanently."

She looked at him for a moment. She could tell by the expression on his face that Russell was telling her the truth. Her mind raced as she considered the situation. Her prayer was also just as quick. An idea came to her at once.

"Son, I want you to make the deal."

"MOM! I'm not going to own a slave."

"No you're not. But do you want him to own her?"

"Well, no. But this is just as wrong. You can't want me to be a part of something like this."

"Son, he's watching us. Probably wondering what we are talking about. Make the deal. I'll explain the rest later."

"Are you for real?"

"Make the deal, Russell. Tell him I can use a maid or something. Then come see me."

Russell's head was spinning. He couldn't believe it. But he knew Mom never did anything shameful or illegal. He went back to Bruce, who was waiting by the fence. Even with being as confused as he was, the dealer side of him came to the surface.

"Okay. I've thought about it. I'm still not sure this is legal and if I get caught I'm going to be in trouble, deep trouble. That kind of risk is only worth ten gallons."

"Ten gallons? Russ, do you need glasses or something? She's a fine looking bit of fluff. She's worth a lot more than that. Tell you what. I can see where you might find this risky. Make it thirteen."

"Risky isn't all there is to it either. How am I going to explain it to my mother? Eleven."

"Tell her you've hired a live-in maid for her. What happens after your mother goes to sleep is your business. But I understand. Make it twelve, and not one drop less."

Russell thought it strange that Bruce should mention the same excuse his mother had. He felt it must be some kind of sign. "Maybe that would work. Alright, twelve it is."

"I knew you couldn't refuse a bed warmer like that. I'll be by in about a half an hour to pick it up, and I'll bring the contract to sign her over. Alright?"

"Yeah, sure. Half an hour."

They shook hands, and Russell felt dirty. He couldn't believe he had just bought another person. And what in the world could his mother be thinking? Still somewhat dazed he unlocked the sturdy metal storage shed and pulled out two five gallon and two one gallon cans and took them to the side of the house to wait for Bruce. It took three trips to get them there and the shed locked up again, so by the time he was done he knew he wouldn't have to wait long. Within fifteen minutes, Bruce was in the driveway with his own car.

"Alrighty. Lets put them in the trunk." He said with a smile.

"Hold on. Haven't you forgotten something?"

"Forgotten? Oh yeah." Bruce reached into the car and pulled out a piece of paper. "Here you go."

Russell looked at it, and suddenly became even more uncomfortable. "I want you to do something. I want you to write a statement that says you give up all rights to anything that has to do with Sandra."

"Hey, Russ. You have the contract. What's the matter? Don't you trust me?"

"Bruce, we've never done a deal like this before. I just want to cover all my bases. I'm sure you understand. You could come back later and say I stole her or something."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Maybe not, but I just want to make sure that nobody can contest this in any way."

"Alright, alright. I need the gas. So what do you want me to write?"

Russell thought for a moment and told him. "Write that in exchange for goods already provided you give up all rights to Sandra."

Bruce took the paper back, with a scowl, turned it over, pulled out a pen and began to write. Shortly he showed it to Russell and asked, "Is that what you want?"

Russell looked at it and said, "Date and sign it. Then, we have a deal."

Bruce did so and then handed it back to Russell. "Satisfied?"

Russell looked it over and decided that it would do. "Yeah. That should do it. Let's load up the gas."

Together they put the cans in the trunk and closed it. By the time they finished, Bruce was in a better mood. He knew that this next deal would only cost him eight gallons, which left him four, for the next bargain.

"A pleasure doing business with you. Even though I think you just might have gotten the better end of the deal. She is a sweet piece of work."

"Time will tell. I guess you'll find out the next time we do something."

"You'll like her. Trust me."

With that he got back into his car and left for his home.

Russell turned and headed back into the house. Mom had some serious questions to answer, as far as he was concerned. He entered the house and found his mother and Sandra just finishing their tea. He couldn't help himself.

"Mom! What was that all about? I don't care what you say, this is just wrong."

Instead of answering him she asked, "Did you get the contract?"

"Yes."

"Let me see it."

He gave it to her. She read it. Then she noticed the writing on the backside of it and read that as well.

"Russell, you did exactly the right thing by getting him to write this release on the back. I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me? How can you be? I just bought someone. I feel terrible."

"That's because we aren't quite done yet." She turned to Sandra. "Do you know what just happened?"

"I think so. You two just bought me from Bruce." Again her eyes went to the floor as if she were ashamed of herself.

"Not quite, my dear. We just bought your freedom. As you've heard, we both believe slavery, no matter what you want to call it, is wrong. Not just wrong, but against the will of God. Buying your contract so that we can set you free might be technically engaging in the slave trade, but the results are very different. Don't you think so?"

"Free? Are you serious?"

"Russell, do you want this woman as a slave?"

"Not a chance." He said as his mothers intent became clear to him.

"Neither do I. So, that means you are free, sweetheart."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say thank you, and leave it at that."

Sandra jumped up from her seat and hugged Mrs. Porter. "Thank you. Thank you, Thank you. You don't know what that man put me through."

"I can imagine." Russell said. "Mom why didn't you tell me what you had in mind? I would have done it. And there wouldn't have been all this drama either."

"There wasn't time. Bruce was watching us, and I didn't want to give him a chance to change his mind. How much did it cost you?"

"Don't worry about that. All things considered, it was a cheap price. I'm just glad you didn't suddenly turn into the wicked witch of the west or something."

"You know me better than that. Or at least you should."

"I guess I'm still learning. So what do we do now?"

"We find a place for Sandra to sleep, of course." Mrs. Porter knew that Russell had bought the house when he and Rebbecca were planning on getting married. It was a three bed room, two bath house on about a half acre of land. A place for her to sleep would be no problem since she had one room and Russell had another. The third room was set up for guests to have a place to stay. She looked at the young woman. "Do you have anything to wear besides what you have on?"

"Not really. I've been washing and wearing the same thing for weeks."

"Well then, we have to do something about that. I have some things that should fit you, though they are a bit dated. Russell, would you build up the fire for supper, and set the table? And remember, we are feeding three tonight."

"My pleasure, Mom."

The women left him to his chore and he set about it with a will. Soon the cast iron stove was hot and the table was almost set for three.

"Let me help you with that."

The voice came from behind him. Turning he saw Sandra standing in the doorway, looking like she had just stepped out of the old movie 'Woodstock'. She was wearing a tie died shirt with a pair of blue jeans and a buckskin jacket with fringe hanging from everywhere. She looked beautiful.

"It's okay. I've got it. Besides, Mom would get mad at me if I let a guest in our house to do any kind of work. That's my job."

"Guest? That's something I never thought anyone would ever say about me again." She smiled at him. It lit up her face, and she looked even better.

"Get used to it. That's what you are from now on."

[day late]

Russell woke early the next morning. He started the fire in the stove to prepare breakfast and settled into a chair, waiting for the wood to burn down into coals. Before he knew it, his mother came out of her bed room and with the usual greetings she set to work making the morning meal. Even before it was ready, a knock came at the front door. Russell got up to see who could be calling at this early hour. He opened the door to find a young man standing before him.

"Jimmy. What are you doing here this early?" He recognized the boy from the office. He was often used as a runner for the business.

"Morning Mr. Porter. I'm supposed to give you this, and tell you that you aren't supposed to come in this morning. You have to work at home." The teenager held out an thick manila envelope.

Russell took it from him with thanks, and asked him to tell his boss he would get started on it right after breakfast. Closing the door, he opened the envelope to see what the problem was. His boss knew that with the really tough problems he worked best on his own, without the distractions of the office. Soon he was so engrossed in the paperwork that his mother had to call him twice for breakfast. He ate with a fork in one hand and the papers in the other, and was so distracted that he wasn't very good company. In truth he enjoyed such problems the way some people enjoyed pushing themselves to the next level in working out. He soon realized that he needed a book he had to refresh his memory on certain things. The book he remembered was on a shelf in the guest bed room. Getting up from the table he walked down the hallway and without thinking, opened the door.

"Good morning."

Russell was startled by the sound of the unexpected voice. Looking up from the paperwork, he saw Sandra standing there, wearing only her underwear, with her bra in hand.

"Is it time to pay you back for my freedom?"

"What? No, no, no. It's nothing like that. I'm sorry. I forgot you were even here. Excuse me. I just needed a book. I'm sorry, please excuse me."

Even as he spoke, he averted his eyes and quickly backed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He went back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"Russell, what's going on? Why did you slam the door?"

"I..uh..forgot about Sandra. I accidentally walked in on her."

"I see. I take it she wasn't ready for company."

"Uh.. no, she wasn't."

She smiled at him. "It's all right, Son. I'm sure she understands."

"I'm not so sure, Mom. She thought I was there for her to pay me back for buying her contract."

"Did you try anything?"

"MOM! Of course not. I told you. I completely forgot she was here." He paused for a moment. "You know it's funny. She didn't even try to cover herself."

"Son, you have to understand. Things like modesty are luxuries that slaves can't afford. I'm sure she has gotten used to that sort of thing in her previous life. Why don't you just settle down before she joins us for breakfast?"

"Joins us? I couldn't face her right now. I'm too embarrassed. I think I should go for a walk."

She stepped close to him and patted his cheek. "You're a good boy, Russell. I'm sure there's no problem. But you go ahead if you feel like it. We'll have a talk while you're gone."

"Thanks Mom. Please make her understand I didn't mean anything by it."

"I will. You go on now. Have a pleasant walk."

Russell left without another word. As he walked down the street, he was totally oblivious to the people around him. How could he forget something so important? True, he was concentrating on his work, but still it shouldn't have happened. His mind went back to the moment. He had a better idea of what Bruce had been talking about. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined. He shook his head to clear it. But the image remained. Finally he prayed.

"Lord. Forgive me for my sins. I didn't mean for that to happen. I know You know it was an accident, but I can't get it out of my head. Lord Jesus, please help me to forget it. Please, give me peace about this."

He continued to pray as he walked. Soon he began to feel better. Mom knew he didn't plan this. He only hoped that she would make Sandra understand.

"Good morning, Sandra." Mrs. Porter said as she came into the kitchen. "What would you like for breakfast? We don't have a lot of choice, but I can offer pancakes, cereal, or we can rummage around for something else, if you like."

"Thank you. The coffee smells great, and I don't want to be a bother. Maybe some toast and jam, if you have it?"

"No sooner said than done. Russell went for a walk and I have bread for the toast. Help yourself to the coffee, but I hope you don't mind jelly though."

"Not at all. Thank you very much." She poured a cup for herself and sat at the table. "You say Russell went for a walk? Did he tell you about our meeting this morning."

"Yes, he did. He was a quite a bit upset about it. I hope you realize it was an accident."

Sandra smiled. "If it had been Bruce I'd say it wasn't. But with him, I don't doubt it."

"He really is a good boy." Mrs. Porter told her with a smile of her own. "He didn't mean for anything like that to happen."

"Oh I'm sure of that. I thought his face was going to turn into a radish."

Both women chuckled. Mrs Porter placed the toast and jelly in front of her guest and they sat together talking as Sandra ate.

"Have you given any thought about what you are going to do now?" Mrs. Porter asked.

"I really haven't had a chance to think about it. I don't have any family left. I had to abandon my car. What little I had with me was either lost or sold by Bruce."

"He sold your personal belongings?"

She nodded. "It wasn't until after I signed that contract that I found out he also had bought them along with me. He made a little out of the clothes, but he made a lot more out of my equipment."

"What kind of equipment?"

"I'm a freelance photographer. I used to work for all kinds of magazines and such out on the coast. I had some of my cameras with me and when Bruce got his hands on them he sold them to help pay for keeping me. Needless to say there isn't much call for that line of work anymore."

"The more I hear about him, the more I wish I'd never met him. I'll never understand what could make a person so mean and selfish." She shook her head. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about him anymore."

"I hope not. But whatever you do NEVER turn your back on him. He's nice as can be in public, but when he's not, he's a totally different person."

"I know what you mean. I've known a few 'Bruce's' in my time. I just glad that Russell has found out about him." She finished the last sip of her coffee, set the cup down and spoke again. "We still have to figure out what to do about you. You might not know it, but this is Russell's house. He brought me here after my husband died. But I'm sure he wouldn't mind putting you up for a while. Until you can get things sorted out, that is. After all he has the room, and I'm certain I can make him see reason if there is a problem."

"I don't want to inconvenience anyone. I mean, with everything you've already done for me, I can never repay you." Sandra paused and then went on. "Mrs. Porter, I hope you won't think badly of me but, after yesterday if Russell had closed the door with him inside the room instead of outside, I wouldn't have fought him. It wouldn't have been love but it would have been the least I could do."

Mrs. Porter actually smiled. "At least you're honest about it. And I'm too old be be shocked by such things. No, I don't think badly of you. But I will tell the truth. The reason Russell bought this house was so he and his fiancee would have a place to live after they got married. But when she found out that he wasn't going to move to L.A. after the wedding, she called it off and left by herself. Neither of us has heard a word from her since. And now, I don't think we ever will. He is over the hurt of all of that but, you know what they say, 'Once burned, twice shy'. And, of course, Russell IS a man. He has the same needs and desires as any man. I believe he thinks I don't know that he and his fiancee were living together before marriage. That's wrong according to our faith, but they were engaged so why should I make a fuss about it?"

"That explains a lot about what happened, or I should say didn't happen." Sandra stopped to contemplate the bottom of her cup for a minute and continued. "You know, you two aren't like anyone I've ever met before. Christians I mean."

"You've never met Christians before? I find that hard to believe."

"No, no. I mean Christians like you. You seem to actually be what they are supposed to be. That's unusual."

"I'm sorry to say that you're right. There are Christians, and then there are Christians. The first are in name only, and the second try to live as The Lord tells us to live. You know what Jesus said. You will know them by their fruit. Some of them have some pretty sour fruit. I'm surprised you didn't learn that as a child in church."

Sandra looked down again. Heaved a sigh and told her. "I didn't learn that in church as a child, because I didn't go to church. My parents, brothers and I went to the Synagogue."

[day late]

"Oh, I see."

The two women sat quietly for a couple of minutes. It was Sandra who broke the silence.

"So, don't you want to convert me? Usually by this time most Christians are beating me over the head with The Bible."

"No."

Sandra wasn't expecting that answer. "Why not?"

Mrs. Porter smiled. "Since you aren't a Christian, I hope you won't mind if I quote a little of it. You see it was the Apostle Paul who said in part;

2Cr 5:11 Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men;

Now, you tell me. If I got all hot under the collar, began jumping up and down and started, as you said, 'beating you over the head' with The Bible, would I have persuaded you of anything?"

"No. Not really."

"That is your answer. I think it is far better to show you my fruit and let you make up your own mind. After all, faith is a matter of belief, not force."

"There you go again. You aren't like any Christian I've ever met before.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Oh! It is. Please, believe me."

"Don't worry. I do. You don't strike me as a woman that is accustomed to lying."

"Thank you. I'm really not that way. But what do you mean by showing me your fruit?"

"I mean showing you how The Lord affects my everyday life. As well as showing you that Jesus is interested in all of us, including you. And it seems to me that extending a helping hand right about now is a good place to start."

"I appreciate the help, but you said this is Russell's home. What if he doesn't want to help? Or what if that help comes at a price, like this morning?"

"I'll tell you what. I'm going to just put my trust in Jesus about that. Don't get me wrong. I trust my son, but things could happen. After this morning he could decide that the best thing for him is to help you out the door as soon as possible. Or, since he IS a man, he might decide that you should pay a price for him supporting you as long as you are here. So, I'll put my faith in The Lord, because I don't believe all of this was just an accident. He planned it this way to get your attention. I believe that The Lord has a way of getting the attention of people He wants to talk to."

The women continued to chat for almost half an hour before Russell returned home. Finally, over his embarrassment, he walked into the kitchen where the two women sat.

"Good morning again, Mom. Good morning Sandra." He paused. "Sandra, I just want to say that what happened a little while ago really was an accident. I was absorbed by my work and totally forgot you were here."

She laughed and told him. "Russell, I knew it was an accident when you walked into the room. You had your nose buried in those papers that you didn't even look up when you came in the room. Actually, I should apologize. Knowing that, I shouldn't have said what I did. Do you forgive me?"

Relieved that the situation was cleared up, he answered her. "Of course. It was my fault. I should have remembered. We don't have very many overnight guests. And speaking of that, I was thinking and praying about it while I was out. It sounds like you lost everything you had to Bruce. And I was thinking that you might need a hand getting back on your feet again. So, if you want to, you can stay in that bedroom for as long as you need to stay." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. "This locks the door to that room, and it is the only one for it in the house. I want you to take it. That way there won't be any more accidents. Alright?"

Surprise was plain on Sandra's face. She looked over at Mrs. Porter, who simply smiled and said, "I told you."

"Told her what?" Russell asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just told Sandra pretty much the same thing you just did, minus the key."

"Oh. Okay. What do you say, Sandra? Are you interested?"

Instead of answering at once, she got up, walked over to him, took the key and gave him a brief hug. She also noticed that while he didn't pull away, he hugged her back in a way that reminded her of how she had been hugged by her brothers, or parents. Nothing about it suggested anything more.

"Thank you, Russell. I really don't know what to say. The two of you have been so kind to me."

"It's been our pleasure." He answered.

"Russell, there is one thing you should know." Mrs. Porter spoke up. "Sandra is Jewish."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"Does that make a difference?" she asked.

"Of course it does. As I understand it there are some things you can't eat. Can you tell us what restrictions you might have on your diet? We wouldn't want to offend you."

Again, Sandra looked at Mrs. Porter, without a word being spoken. She smiled at Sandra and didn't say a thing.

"Well, I don't eat pork."

"Oh, that's not a problem." Mrs. Porter said. "Russell likes it, but it gives me terrible gas. So, we don't have it very often."


After finding out that Sandra was a photographer, Russell realized that there just might be a position for her at his work place. While they did have the ability to send drawings of circuitry and other such things over the reduced Internet, it had been previously found that at times nothing could replace a photograph of the items they wanted to send. For Sandra it was no problem at all to take a digital picture, download it into a computer, and make it available for sending as an e-mail or attachment. Before long Russell's boss had not only given her a job, but offered to supply her with all the fuel necessary to make it back and forth to work. Since the offer of extra fuel was freely given, neither of them bothered to tell him that they traveled together. Or that Sandra didn't have a car any longer. As they drove home one day, she asked him about something on her mind.

"I thought stealing was a big no-no for Christians." Sandra said, one day.

"If we were taking something that didn't belong to us, I would call it stealing." Russell answered. "But we aren't doing that. After all, it was given to you and we are storing the gas for future use. When you do manage to get a car, it's all yours. Except any you might be willing to trade for something you might want or need."

"Well, there is one thing I've been thinking about, but I don't know what it would cost. Winter is coming, and I could use a new heavy coat. I wouldn't think it would cost that much."

"Maybe. Things are different now."

"What do you mean?"

"Before all of this started people paid good money for bottled water with a famous name on it. Now they just fill a glass from the faucet. So nobody is even selling it anymore, as far as I know. But the price of things that you have to have, just to live, has become outrageous. Coats are up, decorative sweaters are down. Snack foods are almost nonexistent, but the cost of a good steak is sky high. That kind of different. In this case, a decent coat isn't going to be too pricey because there are still a few companies making them, but you can bet, it'll cost a lot more than it used to cost."

"I hadn't thought of that. I guess a lot people are going to take advantage of any situation that comes along, aren't they?"

"I've always found that to be the case with most people. Even we are doing it. The difference is that we aren't doing anything to hurt other people. We're just using what God gives us to do the best we can."

Sandra remained quiet for a couple of miles as they drove before speaking again.

"So, what's different with you and your mother? I mean Bruce certainly took advantage of my situation, but you didn't. I can't believe that it was just because your mother might have found out about it. And you must know I wouldn't have fought with you about it."

Now it was Russell's turn to be quiet for a few moments. He hadn't even considered the question before this.

"I'd guess you would have to say, it is the Christian thing to do. We are expected to always do the right thing in every circumstance, because that's what Jesus would do. We are supposed to model our lives after His. There is one story in The Bible where certain people brought a woman before Him and she had been caught in the very act of adultery. He saved her from the crowd by pointing out to them that none of us are without sin. After the crowd left and the two of them were alone, He told her to go on her way and to sin no more. He could have suggested that she owed Him something for what He did, but He didn't. If He didn't, how could I?"

"And that's why you gave me the key to my room?"

"Mostly. It was what Jesus would have done under the circumstances."

"You know. You two sure give a girl a lot to think about."

"Good things, I hope."

"Oh yes. Very good, but a little confusing as well."

"How so?"

"I've always been taught that Christians hated the Jewish people and blamed us for everything that went wrong in the world."

"Just the ones that are what Mom calls Christians in name only. I mean think about it. Before all of this started there were, and still are for that matter, a lot of Jewish people in this country. Even so, how often would you hear of bad things happening to them because of their faith. I know it does happen sometimes, but when you think about the shear numbers of people in both faiths, the number of incidents is quite small. The ones who do those things are people who are just looking for an excuse to fuel their hate. Just like the people who hate others for any reason. Their race, place of origin, or whatever. They are sad, empty people with only their hate to make them feel alive."

Sandra looked at him for a long time, in silence, while they continued on their way home. Finally she spoke.

"You make me think some of my people have misjudged yours as bad as some of yours have misjudged mine."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised. One thing we have in common is we are all human. We make mistakes. The problem is we don't want to admit it, so we believe our own feelings, instead of the truth."

"Russell, I hope you and your mother helping me like you have doesn't lead either of you into believing the mistakes of others. Jewish people are the way others have painted us for so long. People have always said we are greedy, stupid people with not sense of gratitude. I have to tell you that I don't have the words to express my gratitude for what you have done, and are doing for me. I mean, buying my contract and then burning it, giving me a place to stay and now helping me find a job. And you haven't asked for a thing in return."

He smiled at her. "I don't mean to offend, but it's the Christian thing to do. And unless I miss my guess that is one thing our faiths share in common. The belief that one day we will stand before God and try to explain our lives to Him. Jesus said we will give an account for every idle word. How could we explain not getting you away from Bruce? I wouldn't even want to try." He paused as he rounded the last corner before getting to the house. "I have to be honest and tell you that it almost didn't happen. When Bruce said he wanted to trade you, I was shocked. I almost threw him out on the spot. It was Mom who kept her head and told me to make the deal."

"I guess I can understand that. It looks like I owe your mother even more than I thought." She gave a short laugh. "But I hope she won't get upset when I use my first paycheck to get some clothes that are a little more up to date. About half the time I look like I should be wearing flowers in my hair."

The car pulled into the driveway, and Russell turned off the engine. "I'm sure she won't mind. But I do have to admit, you do look kind of cute like that. Come on. Let's go inside."

[day late]

The next few weeks went much the same. Russell and Sandra would go to work in the morning, and return home in the evening. One evening as they entered the house, Russell's mother called out to him.

"Son. I don't know if I like this, but Bruce came by earlier. He says that you two have some things to talk about. Are you planning another deal with him?"

"Nothing that I know of, and I don't know what this is about." He stopped and inhaled deeply. "Further more, I don't care what it is. Supper sure smells good. Whatever it is, he can wait."

"Flattery will get you the right to do the dishes later." She answered.

It was over an hour later that Bruce came knocking at the door. Russell let him in, and noticed that when he came in, one of the first things he did was take a good long look at Sandra. It made him uncomfortable to say the least. Not that he was feeling anything for her, it was just how Bruce did it. It was more like she was something on the menu.

"Russ, Good to see you man. How's it going?"

"Not bad. Like everybody these days. Could be better, but it could be worse. What do you want? Should we go out back?"

"Yeah, I think so, but why don't you bring her as well?" Bruce pointed at Sandra.

Sandra's face told her story. There was nothing but fear there.

"I don't see why she should come. This is between us."

"Oh, you'll understand. Trust me. You won't regret it."

Russell looked at Sandra. "Do you mind?"

"I guess not. But I don't like it."

In a few moments the three of them were in the back yard. Sandra didn't get very far from Russell.

"So, what's up, Bruce?"

"I've got another deal for you. This is one I know you can't refuse. You'll love it."

"Okay, I'm listening. What are you offering this time?"

"A whole side of beef. Already cut up and ready for either the freezer, or the grill."

"Alright. How many gallons do you want this time?" Russell wondered why Bruce insisted that Sandra join them for something like this. They had done these kinds of deals before.

"None. I want to trade for her contract."

"What? Are you kidding?"

"Not at all, and I'll tell you the truth."

"THAT should be painful." Russell responded.

Bruce smiled at what he believed to be a joke. "Not too much. Really. I want to buy her contract back. I've been kind of alone lately. I got to thinking how it would be nice to have my bed warmer back. What do you say? A WHOLE side of beef for her contract."

Russell had barely noticed Sandra's grip on his arm at first. He paid even less mind to how it now tightened as Bruce had been speaking. In the blink of an eye, his mind went back to the sound of his mother's voice on the day he had bought the contract. "RUSSELL" He completely understood her feelings. He had them now.

"I can't do that."

"Oh, come on Russ. Think about it. How many good meals are you and your mother going to get for her."

"Bruce. I can't do that."

Bruce looked at him for a moment. His expression changed as he thought he understood. "Don't tell me that you're starting to fall for this filthy little Jew. Someone like her isn't worth it. Trust me."

"Have you completely lost your mind? She's a person! Her faith doesn't affect that."

"RUSS! She's a Jew. What have the Jews ever done for anyone but themselves? Answer me that if you can."

Russell didn't have the words for what he was feeling. Furious didn't come close to covering it. It was later the answer came to him. It was rage. Still he kept his cool, and answered Bruce.

"You want one thing the Jewish people have done for us? Okay, I'll tell you. It was a young Jewish virgin that gave the entire world a gift in the form of The Lord, Jesus Christ. She gave us life eternal through her son. She gave anyone who believes in Him THE thing. That's what they have done for us, and more besides."

Russell couldn't help himself. Something inside him changed in that instant. The two men were standing close to one another. He found his hands, involuntarily, reaching out and violently grabbing Bruce's collar. He was surprised by himself as he pulled the other man close, and even though they were about the same size, he lifted Bruce to the point where he was standing on tip-toe. His voice took on a cold flat monotone with a hard edge he had never known was within him. It was so quiet, it couldn't be heard five feet away

"Bruce, I'm only going to say this once, so listen real close. Sandra is a woman, not a piece of property. Now, since you don't understand that, you will leave MY property, and you will NEVER return. You will NEVER even speak to me again. If you EVER come back or speak to me again, I'm going to hurt you. And I'm going to keep on hurting you until I get too tired, or the cops pull me off. Which ever comes first. Now get off my land."

With that he threw Bruce to one side. Not expecting such treatment from Russell, he stumbled over his own feet and fell face first into the dirt. He scrambled to his feet. With a look of pure hate on his face he screamed at Russell.

"You damn Jew lover."

Russell bent over and picked up a rock about the size of a baseball. He hurled it at Bruce, striking him in the chest. Bruce staggered backwards, stunned by Russell's response. Instead of saying anything, he turned and ran from the yard. Russell stood, almost trembling with anger. To him, he was alone in the world at that moment. That is why he almost jumped when Sandra put her hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you doesn't seem enough right now."

"Don't worry about it. I should have tossed him out of here long ago."

"But not for this reason."

"Forget it."

They turned and started back to the house. When they entered, Russell's mother had to ask a question.

"Son. I just saw Bruce leaving here like the devil himself was after him. What happened out there?"

"Close to it Mom. Close to it. We had a disagreement. I'm sorry, but I think I need some alone time right now." He left the two women alone.

"Sandra? What went on out there?"

"Russell didn't like the deal Bruce was offering." She looked at Mrs. Porter. "I hope you'll forgive me, but I think some alone time is a good idea for me too."

"Of course."

Later that night, Russell sat in his favorite chair, staring though the window into the night. Mom and Sandra had already gone to bed and he sat in the dark. The room was as black as his mood. He simply couldn't understand how anyone could so casually deal in human beings as Bruce had wanted to do. While his rage had subsided, his anger had not. His thoughts were as black as the night. He felt someone behind him before she spoke.

"Russell."

He turned and looked at Sandra. He was surprised to see her standing there in what he thought of as a flimsy piece of nothingness. While it covered her from shoulder to just above mid thigh, it hid nothing. He could clearly see it was all she was wearing.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did today."

"Sandra, you don't have to do this."

"I want to."

"I appreciate that, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but no. It would be wrong. Slavery is wrong. There is no need to thank me. You are a free person. Nobody has a right to sell somebody else. I think maybe you should just go to bed and forget it."

She looked at him for a long moment. Then said. "Alright. I think I understand."

She turned and left him in the dark. He couldn't help but watch her go. She was indeed beautiful. He turned back to the window. Everything was so peaceful out there. No problems. Nobodies lives to consider. No 'Bruce's' to worry about. How did things get so complicated? He jumped when a hand moved down beside him. It placed a key on the table next to him. Looking around he saw Sandra, now wearing a terrycloth robe.

"Russell, your mother once told me that Jesus said people would know His followers by their fruit. I like your fruit. Good Night."

She turned and left him yet again in the darkened room. Somehow, the night no longer seemed as black.

[day late]

It took another week or so, before Russell found out that Bruce wasn't going to let things go. He was at work one day, while Sandra had been sent to another location to do some photographic work.

"Hey Russell. What's going on? Are you in some kind of trouble or something?" A coworker asked him just before the end of the day.

"Not that I know of. Why? What are you talking about?"

"The boss sent me to find you. He's in his office. Russell, there are a couple of cops waiting there with him. They want to talk to you."

He put his work aside and went to see what was happening. At first he thought that maybe something had happened to his mother. He started to hurry to the office, concerned about her well being. He quickly arrived and knocked on the door.

"Come in." He heard his boss say.

Entering the room he found two police officers waiting for him along with the boss.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?"

Before he could answer one of the officers spoke up.

"Are you Russell Porter?"

"Yes Sir. What's going on? Is it my mother? Is she okay?"

"I don't know anything about your mother Mr. Porter. Will you please have a seat? I'm Sgt. Wentz. There are some questions we'd like to ask you."

Russell sat in a nearby chair, as the second officer closed the door and then stood behind him.

"What's this all about?"

"Mr. Porter, We've had a complaint sworn against you for assault and grand theft. Understand that we are not here to arrest you. We are investigating the complaint. To determine if there is anything to it. I should advise you that if we do find a reason you could be arrested. If you desire it, you will be allowed to call your attorney before we proceed. Do you wish to have your attorney present?"

"You make it sound like I am being arrested."

"No Sir. Not at this time. But we do need the answers to a few questions. You are the only one who can provide them. Will you assist us?"

"If I think I have to, can I call a lawyer later?"

"You have the right to stop answering questions at any time, and seek counsul."

"Russell. You don't have to do this. You are a valuable employee. We can get a lawyer for you before you say anything."

"It's alright. I don't have anything to hide. Go ahead."

"Thank you, Mr. Porter." Sgt. Wentz pulled out a worn notebook and flipped it open. "Mr. Porter, a complain has been filed against you saying that you assaulted a neighbor of yours and then forced his live in servant to come to work for you. It further states that you have kept this person a virtual slave in your home. Since taking her she has only been seen outside the home only on the rare occasion. Would you like to make any comments about that?"

"You must be talking about Bruce."

"That is the first name of the person who swore out the complaint."

Russell thought about how to explain things. He still wasn't sure if buying Sandra's contract was legal. Then it came to him that maybe the contract it's self wasn't legal. That would certainly put a different light on things.

"I suppose you aren't going to be impressed if I told you I was justified in what I did."

"That would depend on what happened. So tell me what happened."

He sighed. "I'm sure you realize that a lot of people have taken to bartering these days. Well, I'm no different. I have made a few side deals with Bruce over the past year or so."

"What kind of deals?"

"Nothing illegal, I assure you."

"That's not an answer."

"Okay. Sometimes I manage to come up with a little extra gasoline. Bruce has always managed to come up with things that I need, so we make a deal. I have an aged mother, for example. Sometimes, at her age, she will wake up with aches and pains, and can use an aspirin. You can't find them in the store anymore, but Bruce will usually have some, so we trade. Don't ask me how he manages to get them. He doesn't tell me and I don't ask. We just come to an agreement and make the trade. If it isn't aspirin or some other across the counter medicine, it might be meat or something else."

"If what you tell me is true, then there isn't any problem with that. Go on. Tell me about this alleged assault."

"I don't know what he has told you. I can only tell you what he said to me. A while back he came to me offering a deal. He said that a woman had signed a contract to work for him. She was supposed to be a live in maid or something like that. At least that's what he claimed. He offered me her contract in trade for gas."

"You BOUGHT someone?"

"NO. Nothing like that. I bought her contract. Not her. She is a free person, not a slave."

"And this person is the one he says you forced to work for you?"

"Her name is Sandra. And I didn't force her to do anything."

"We'll come back to this Sandra. Why did you assault him."

"Bruce came over and wanted to trade a side of beef for her contract. I refused. Then I ordered him off my property. He refused to leave and started shouting at me. Insulting me really and I threw a rock at him."

"What did he say that was so insulting you found it necessary to hit him with a rock?"

"He called me a Jew lover. You see, Sandra is Jewish. When I refused to sell her back to him, not that I could have, he jumped to the conclusion that I was falling in love with her and became upset."

"What did you mean when you just said' not that I could have' Mr. Porter?"

"After I bought Sandra's contract, I burned it. She is a free agent. She can leave anytime she pleases."

"Where is this Sandra now? I'd like to speak with her."

"You have to ask my boss. He sent her out on a job this morning."

"She works here? I thought you said the contract was for a live in maid."

"I told you. There is no contract. I burned it, right in front of her."

"I see." Turning to his boss Sgt. Wentz asked, "Is there any truth to someone named Sandra working for you?"

"I hired her a few weeks ago. She's a photographer, and a mighty good one too."

"Is there any chance I could have a word with her?"

"She was sent off site to do some work." He paused and looked at his watch. "She should be back almost any time now. Let me check."

"Thank you." Sgt. Wentz turned back to Russell. "Mr. Porter, you ARE certain this woman, Sandra, is going to back up your story, aren't you?"

"Sgt. I think she is going to tell you some things you aren't going to believe. That's why I didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll let her tell you."

"Very well. As you wish."

It was just a couple of minutes before Sandra came into the office. To him it seemed much longer.

"Russell? What's this all about? It sounds like you're in trouble."

"Ask him." He pointed to Sgt. Wentz.

"Excuse me, Ma'am. Is your name Sandra?"

"Yes. It is. What's happening? Why are you harassing Russell? He hasn't done anything."

"That's what we are here to find out. Mr. Porter has already confessed to hitting another man with a rock. We want to know what you have to say about it."

"You mean Bruce? After what he's done, I would have hit him with an ax."

"Just what has he done? You seem to be at the center of all of this. Is it true that you signed some kind of contract with him as a domestic servant?"

Sandra looked at him as if she wanted to spit. "I guess you could call it that."

"So you worked for him as a maid."

She looked down for a moment. Then plucking up her courage she looked him in the eye. "Sgt. I'm not happy talking about this. I feel ashamed of what happened. But it was more than that. Bruce calls me his bed warmer."

Sgt. Wentz's eyes widened slightly. "Do you mean he insisted on sexual services?"

"Yes, I do."

"Was it in any way consensual?"

"I don't know what you would call it. All I know is that if I refused he would have thrown me out into the street."

"Why didn't you just leave?"

"I couldn't. I had no money, no car, absolutely nothing. Where could I have gone? I don't have any family. He probably would have tossed me out naked just for the laugh."

"What about this contract? Were you aware what was going to be required when you signed it?"

"Believe it or not, I thought I was just going to be doing house work. I never realized he had other things on his mind."

"What about the rock throwing?"

"Russell told Bruce to leave, and he started calling Russell names."

"What names?"

"He called Russell a 'damn Jew lover'. And there was nothing but hate in his eyes when he said it."

"I have to ask you this Ma'am. Is there a relationship between you and Mr. Porter?"

"No, there isn't. Russell has been a perfect gentleman. No, wait. He's been a perfect Christian gentleman."

"One last question, if you don't mind. Are you Jewish?"

She looked at him, and then at Russell. "I'm not so sure any more. I used to be. But a lot of things have been changing lately. Maybe I'm one of them."

"Very well. Thank you for speaking with me. Mr. Porter, from what I've heard here, I don't think you have anything to worry about." He turned to Russell's boss. "If you can arrange it, I'd like for these two to have tomorrow off. I think the District Attorney is going to want to speak with them after I file my report."

"I'm sure it can be arranged. Why is HE going to want to talk to them?"

"I believe Mr. Porter's accuser is going to have some questions of his own to answer."


To Russell's surprise, things went quietly for the next couple of days. People at work treated he and Sandra much the same as they always had. He did see Bruce in the street one evening, but they never got close to each other. It did seem that Bruce was doing some work on his car, but nothing was wrong with that. It wasn't until he was awaken by his mother around four A.M. that he had the first idea that anything was happening.

"Son. Someone is in the back yard."

Russell got up and quietly moved to a window that looked out into it. Mom was right. There was someone working on the lock to the shed. He quietly let himself out, with a baseball bat in his hand. Whoever it was, was so intent on the lock he didn't hear Russell's approach. He got within a couple of feet before the thief heard him. Spinning around the man pointed a handgun at Russell.

"YOU. You damn Jew lover. Now you get yours." He raised the weapon.

Russell had no other choice. He swung the bat as the pistol fired. He felt the bullet tear it's way through his side. At the same time he knew the bat had hit Bruce. But he didn't look to see what happened. Clutching his side, he went down. Knowing it wasn't over, he rolled onto his back and tried to get up. The pain wouldn't let him. He lifted his head and saw Bruce lying a few feet away. He was holding his head. Blood seemed to be running between his fingers. Russell again tried to get up. This time he made it to his knees. He looked at Bruce. He had gotten to his feet. His was pointing the pistol at him again.

"Call the cops on me will you? I'll teach you."

He raised the weapon and prepared to fire.

"Hey!" The voice came from behind Russell. Bruce looked up. He suddenly raised his hand as if to ward off something. Russell heard a strange whooping sound as a blur passed above him. There was a loud thunk, and Bruce toppled backwards. The handle of a hatchet sticking out of his chest.

"Russell! Are you alright?" It was Sandra.

"No. He got a piece of me. Call an ambulance."

"Don't worry, I will. Son, you stay still and don't move." It was Mom. "See if you can help him." she called to Sandra.

Falling by his side with terror in her eyes she asked, "Are you going to live?"

"I think so. He didn't hit anything vital. I think." He looked at her. "Did you do that?"

"I was just trying to scare him away. I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Well, he went away. Oh, that hurts." He leaned back, then smiled at her weakly. "Thank you doesn't seem to be enough right now."

[day late]

Bruce's face just hung there in front of him. It was filled with hate. No matter which way he turned, or tried to run, Russell couldn't get away from it. It was monstrous in size. Whenever it opened it's mouth the same thing came out.

"Damn Jew lover!"

Russell ran again to get away from it. All of a sudden it felt like his side was on fire. He put his hand down to hold it. When he pulled it back and looked at, it was covered in blood. He was dieing. He knew it. His only chance was to get away from Bruce. The face appeared again. He fell. The face was right on top of him. Russell pulled to one side and tried to sit up. He was jerked back down.

"Russell? Can you hear me?"

It was Mom. He opened his eyes. Quickly looking around for the face, it was then he realized he was in a bed. A bed in the hospital from what he could tell.

"Mom?"

"Oh, Son. Are you alright? You gave us a real fright."

He turned his head, and saw her sitting there. A look of deep concern was on her face.

"I think so. I was having a bad dream. What about you and Sandra? Are you two okay?"

"We're both fine Russell. You don't worry about us." Sandra's voice came from the other side.

"Glad to hear it." He started to raise his hand to his forehead, and found he couldn't. Looking down he found that he was strapped down to the bed. "What's going on? Why am I tied down?"

"I'm afraid it was necessary."

He didn't recognize the third voice. He looked at the foot of his bed. There was a doctor standing there. Beside him was Sgt. Wentz.

"Necessary? Why? Am I under arrest?"

Sgt. Wentz started to speak, but with a wave of the hand, the doctor silenced him.

"We had to restrain you because after the surgery you were bouncing and twitching all over the place. I didn't want you to pull out those stitches and ruin all of my hard work. It was for your own good."

"Oh. I see. Thank you, I guess." He smiled slightly. "I never thought I would say that to someone who tied me up."

The doctor returned his smile with one of his own. "It's not often that people do. What do you think? If we remove the restraints, are you going to be alright?"

"I think so, Doctor. But don't you have to ask the Sgt. about that first?"

"You aren't under arrest Mr. Porter. I'm here for different reasons." He turned to the doctor. "How about it? Can I ask a few questions?"

"Just don't over do it."

"Besides, Russell. If anyone is in trouble, it's me." Sandra spoke quietly. "Isn't that true Sgt.?"

"What would make you think that?"

"I killed Bruce with a hatchet."

"Actually Miss, you didn't."

"Doctor, I hit him in the chest with it. I killed him."

"No. You didn't. According to the autopsy report the victim was killed by trauma to the head. He was already a dead man when that hand ax hit him. He just didn't know it yet. With the amount of blood in his brain, I wouldn't have given him five minutes."

Sandra didn't say anything. She just sat there and tried to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

"Mr. Porter. If you feel up to it, I'd like to ask you, and this young lady a couple of questions."

"Sure. I don't know what help I can be, but go ahead."

"Thank you. Mr. Porter you stated before that you had known the deceased for some time. Ma'am you said that you spent some time living in the same house with him. Did either of you know he was dealing in illegal firearms?"

"I didn't." Russell said.

"I never had a clue. Are you sure about that?"

"When we searched his house we found a hidden room. It was packed with fully automatic weapons, ammunition, even some explosives." The Sgt. smiled. "To tell the truth, you two did us a favor. I shudder to think what might of happened if those things had ever reached the street."

"Well, I'll be. I never knew. I mean, yeah, Bruce was always doing some kind of deal, but I never suspected anything like that." Russell shook his head. Then he had to ask. "So what happens now? The doctor says I killed him. Am I going to be in trouble for this?"

"Mr. Porter, you acted in defense of your home with supposedly non lethal force. Even a totally incompetent lawyer could make the case that the impact of the bullet changed the direction of your swing. That makes his death an accident. And this young lady clearly acted in your defense. That is what my report is going to say anyway. There shouldn't be any problems. This matter of illegal weapons might cause the D.A. to ask a question or two, but I don't foresee any problems for either of you, at all. He takes a pretty dim view of gun running and white slavery. We all do."

Together Russell and Sandra said, "Thank you."

Sgt. Wentz smiled at them. "I should be thanking you. You see, we didn't have any idea about him either. Good day." He turned and walked out of the room.

"Doctor. When can I take my boy home?"

"I'd like to keep him for over night, just to observe him. I want to be sure those stitches don't get pulled out. Assuming there aren't any complications, I'd say tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Doctor. And thank you for all you've done."

"Not at all. Now, why don't you two make your goodbyes, and let this young fellow get some rest."

"Can we stay for just a few more minutes? After all he's been out for thirty-six hours." Mrs. Porter asked.

"I have?"

"You have. Well, Doctor?"

"Five minutes. No more."

"Thank you."

It was later that afternoon that Sandra and Mrs. Porter sat in the kitchen. Since the time of the shooting, neither of them had eaten very much. Now they sat having their first real meal, and talking.

"Sandra, I can't thank you enough for saving Russell's life. But I was wondering, what made you throw the hand ax?"

"To tell you the truth, I didn't know I had, until it was on it's way."

Mrs. Porter looked at her questioningly.

"It's like this. I saw Bruce starting to get up, and he still had the gun in his hand. I couldn't let him shoot Russell again, so I reached for something, anything, to throw at him. I thought if he knew Russell wasn't alone, he might get scared and leave. Anyway, you know that stack of firewood he keeps by the back door? I just grabbed the first piece of wood I could reach and threw it. I didn't know that wood was the handle to the hatchet."

"Well then it must have been The Lord who directed both your choice and your aim."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Certainly. I've told you before, I don't believe in accidents. He had His hand in this, you can be sure."

"How can you be sure?"

"Think about it. I mean everything. If you believe in coincidence, what are the odds that you would wind up here when California was destroyed? Then what are the chances that you would sign that contract with Bruce? After that how did it happen that Bruce would sell that contract to my Son? For that matter, tell me the odds that Russell would see things going bad and start storing gas to trade with Bruce in the first place? Don't you think that the odds are starting to get a little small?"

"Are you saying that God did all of this, just to 'get my attention' as you've called it?"

"I couldn't say. I'm not privy to His thoughts. But it is possible. Look at what He did to get Jonah's attention. And through him the city of Nineveh. I know you've heard of him."

"Yes, of course I know of him. But it seems a little far fetched to say all of this has happened because of me."

"That's true. Bruce didn't become a criminal just to have you come to Him. That was Bruce's choice. I'm saying your steps were directed to this end, through the things happening in the world today."

Sandra thought about it. Finally she said, "Well, I'll tell you one thing. If what you say is true, then we could certainly use some help right now. Russell is going to be laid up for a while, and I can't drive a stick shift. That means neither one of us can go to work. I just hope we have a job when he is up and around again."

Before Mrs. Porter could answer, a knock came from the front door. When she answered it, she found the office runner, Jimmy standing there.

"Hello, Jimmy. What can I do for you?"

"Hi Mrs. Porter. They sent me with a message for your son and that nice lady, Sandra. Is she here?"

"I'm here Jimmy. What did they want you to tell me?"

"Oh, hi Miss Sandra. I'm supposed to tell you that you're supposed to stay here and help Mr. Porter get well. They said to not worry, you two are still on the payroll until you get back."

"Oh. Thank you Jimmy. That's very good news."

"You're welcome. I have to go now. Curfew is in a little while. 'Bye."

"Goodbye Jimmy."

Sandra closed the door, and stared at it for a few moments. Turning around she walked over to where Mrs. Porter had seated herself.

"This is what you are talking about, aren't you?"

"I would say so. I've found that The Lord often takes care of us before we even know we are in trouble."

"Okay. I give up. Would you tell me more about Jesus?"

"I'd love to. Have a seat."

[day late]

True to his word, the doctor allowed Russell to return home the next morning. He had to admit, for the first few days he enjoyed all of the attention. It was nice having everything that he wanted delivered to him in the instant he asked for it. He had to only lift a finger, and either his mother, or Sandra, or both were there to take care of him. He felt like a king. One in real pain, but a king none the less. But by the third day, it was beginning to get on his nerves. Between not being able to get around easily, and what was becoming service that was a little too much, he insisted that from time to time the ladies go somewhere else and leave him alone.

That suited Mom just fine. She suggested that she and Sandra take afternoon walks together. It allowed Russell a little time to himself, which she admitted was a good idea. It forced him to get up and do things for himself, so he wouldn't become too stiff and sore while recovering. It also gave her a chance to begin to teach Sandra about her faith and The Lord.

"Sandra, surely you know what was said in what we call the Old Testament. It was written in the Book of Isiah.

Isa 7:14 Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.

We believe that virgin was named Mary, and her son was Jesus Christ."

"I've always heard that she was either seduced, or raped by a Roman, so her son was actually the son of a Roman."

"Of course you have. I wouldn't expect anything less."

"What do you mean?"

"That is how Satan works. He lies. They are very convincing lies, but they are lies none the less. Tell me. Have you ever heard of Gamaliel?"

"Yes. He was a very famous man who was an expert in the Law of Moses."

"That's right. But more than that, he was a Pharisee. And the Pharisee's were real sticklers for the Law. After Jesus had risen from the grave and gone back to Heaven he had the chance to speak before the priests and scribes. I don't know if he ever became a Christian, but he had something very important to say to them. The Bible says;

Act 5:34 Then stood there up one in the council, a Pharisee, named Gamaliel, a doctor of the law, had in reputation among all the people, and commanded to put the apostles forth a little space;

Act 5:35 And said unto them, Ye men of Israel, take heed to yourselves what ye intend to do as touching these men.

Act 5:36 For before these days rose up Theudas, boasting himself to be somebody; to whom a number of men, about four hundred, joined themselves: who was slain; and all, as many as obeyed him, were scattered, and brought to nought.

Act 5:37 After this man rose up Judas of Galilee in the days of the taxing, and drew away much people after him: he also perished; and all, [even] as many as obeyed him, were dispersed.

Act 5:38 And now I say unto you, Refrain from these men, and let them alone: for if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought:

Act 5:39 But if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it; lest haply ye be found even to fight against God.

So you see? Even this great teacher of the Law realized that if Jesus was just a man, nothing would come of it. BUT if He really was The Son of God there was nothing they could do to stop it. That was two thousand years ago. Since then nobody, not the priests, not the pharisees, not the communists, not the agnostics, not the atheists, not the scientists, not the evolutionists or anyone else has been able to put a stop to Christianity. It has spread and grown and continues to grow, every day, and nobody has been able stop it. Nobody can stop it. No matter how hard they try. Doesn't that tell you something?"

Sandra actually stopped in the street, lost in thought. "Nobody ever mentioned these things to me before. It is a lot to take in at one time. But I can't find a hole in it for the life of me."

"You won't find a hole in it, because there isn't one. I know. It is the truth. And the truth stands on it's own."

They began to walk again. And Sandra brought a point she needed to know about.

"But what about Jesus actually being the child of a Roman?"

"As I said. That is one of Satan's lies. He can't stand the idea that anyone would worship anyone other than him. What better way to cast doubt on the divinity of Jesus, than to cast doubt on who is actually His father?"

"You know, you are the only person I've ever met that has used the Torah to prove that Jesus is who He said He was."

"Believe me when I say that there are many prophecies in The Torah that can only point to Jesus. The problem was when he came those in power thought that they would lose that power, so they fought against Him. Think about it. If they admitted that Jesus was The Son of God, not only would every priest be out of a job, but there would be no more need for the temple. That means all the people who made a living selling animals,or other things for sacrifice would be out of work as well."

"No Jew would ever talk like this."

"Don't be so sure, my Dear. There are a lot of former Jews around."

Sandra again stopped in the street as the enormity of the statement came home to her. She turned and looked Mrs. Porter in the eye.

"You're Jewish?"

"No. I'm a Christian. But I used to be Jewish. It was Russell's father who showed me the truth. Right now, all I can do is show it you. You are the one that has to believe it."


It was during one of these afternoon walks, while Russell was alone in the house that a knock came at the door. More of a pounding really. Someone really wanted some attention. Russell got out of his chair and went to the door. Through the window he could see a man. He wasn't what Russell thought of as someone respectable. He wasn't dirty, but the clothes were worn and the attitude he had was one that seemed to demand instant obedience.

"Can I help you?" He asked through a crack in the door.

"You, Russell Porter?"

"Yes."

"I got a crate here. I was supposed to deliver it to a guy named Bruce, down the street. He ain't there. He gave this as a second address for delivery if he wasn't home. I left it in front of your car. You might want to get it off the street. No point in attracting attention, if you know what I mean. Bye."

With that he turned and hurried to a panel truck parked in front of the house, climbed in and sped away. In his condition, Russell had no chance of catching up with the stranger, and he hadn't given Russell a chance to say why Bruce wasn't home. He stepped outside and looked. Sure enough, there was a crate sitting in front of his car. It was a bit large, and had no markings on it to say where it had come from. He didn't know what to do with it. He grabbed the crate and tried to move it. It was far too heavy to be moved easily for someone in his condition. Since he was by himself he decided to not try to move it without a hand truck that was sitting out back. Once he had gotten the edge of the hand truck under the crate, it was lifted easily and he rolled it into the back yard.

Once there, he inspected the crate more closely. It was made of wood, about four feet long, two feet deep and a foot high. It seemed far heavier than it should. Finally he decided that it couldn't hurt to open it. After all, Bruce wasn't going to object. He grabbed a pry bar and set to work. It took a while since, when he moved it the wrong direction his side told him about it. Eventually the lid began to lift, and shortly he had it open. What he found was beyond belief. In the crate were four fully automatic rifles, with several magazines each and at least one thousand rounds of ammunition. He didn't know what to do. He had already told Sgt. Wentz he had no idea that Bruce was dealing in these things, now here was this crate. He could picture the conversation in his mind.

"Well, you see Sgt. This guy who looked like a typical movie hood dropped this crate off at my house. He said that it was for Bruce. I was supposed to hold on to it for him, until he could pick it up. When I opened it, I found it was full of guns and ammo."

"I see. A total stranger drops off a crate load of guns for the man you killed a few days ago, and left before you could even get his name. Is that right?"

"Yes Sir."

"And this is the same man you told me that you had no idea was dealing in illegal firearms. Is that correct?"

"Yes Sir."

"I see. Mr. Porter would you turn around and put your hands behind your back for me, please?"

No, that wasn't going to work. But what to do with them? He couldn't sell them. Then he thought of dumping them in a nearby lake. But that wouldn't work either. With food becoming harder to get by the day, people were constantly fishing there, both day and night trying to get enough to feed themselves and their families. Someone was bound to notice him and what he was doing. Taking them by car and dumping them in the river from the bridge that crossed it would be equally obvious. And his chances would be only slightly better at night. That was out. Bury them? What if his neighbors saw him digging? How could he explain a hole that big, and what would he do with all the extra dirt?

In the end he decided that he needed time to figure out an answer. In the mean time he could hide the crate in plain sight. He closed it up again and put the wood he kept near the back door on top of it. If anyone asked, he was using the box to keep his fire wood dry, and the wood on top was extra that wouldn't fit inside. As he set to work he couldn't help it. He looked up and asked a question.

"Bruce! Are you STILL trying to get me?"

As he finished his task, he heard his mother and Sandra return. They were calling him, concerned that something might have happened to him. He went inside and greeted them.

"Hello Ladies. I'm here."

"Russell. We thought something happened to you."

"Actually Mom, that's what I'm trying to avoid."

[day late]

"What are you talking about?" Mom wanted to know.

Russell explained about the strange delivery and the equally strange man who showed up to make it. He told them about the crate of weapons and his concerns about getting rid of them, since he would never be believed about their arrival. He also told them about how he had, at least temporarily, hidden them. His mother listened intently, and then spoke to him.

"Russell, you're looking at this thing the wrong way. I love you but sometimes I think you have been a little too sheltered in your upbringing. People that make these kinds of arrangements don't deal in trust. They want their money up front. The chances are that Bruce already paid for those weapons. So nobody is going to come looking for payment."

"Assuming you are right, what about the cops? Don't you think they are going to want to know about this?"

"Who's going to tell them? Certainly not Bruce or the people he bought them from. I'm sure you didn't open that crate out on the street, so our neighbors don't know anything more than you received a crate. It could contain anything, and by now most of them know what happened. They are going to be thinking that we have gotten some kind of medical equipment for your recovery. Son, I think the best thing to do is to hide them."

"Hide them! Why?"

"Two reasons. The first is the same reason that we know from our family history. The second? Well I have to ask you. Do you now believe that we are in the end times?"

That brought Russell up short. After his brief dealing in slavery, he had become convinced these were the end times.

"Yeah, Mom. I guess I do. I just haven't gotten used to the idea yet."

"If that is the case, don't you think those weapons might just come in handy at some point?"

"Much as I hate to admit it, yes I do. I just hadn't thought about it."

"Then why don't you and Sandra start by emptying the cabinet under the kitchen sink and see about getting the bottoms out. There should be enough space under there to put those boxes of ammunition. I'll look around for a suitable place to put the rifles." She caught Sandra's eye. "You don't mind helping, do you?"

"Not at all. After what I've been through, having a gun around sounds like a good idea. Besides, someone has to keep Russell from over doing it."

"That's my girl. Alright, let's get to work."

Russell and Sandra went to the kitchen and began to empty the cabinet. Russell sat on the floor and passed out the various cleaning items and other things that always seem to find a home there. Before long Sandra had a question.

"Russell. I never thought to ask before. What's your mothers first name?"

"Golda."

"How about your father?"

"Hyam."

"So it's true. You come from a Jewish background."

"That depends on how you look at it." He paused to pull a couple more items from beneath the sink and hand them to her. "You see, my grandparents, on both sides, came to America from Germany just after what they called 'Kristallnacht' back in the late 1930's."

"That was when the Nazi's attacked the Jewish business's and people in Germany, wasn't it?"

"That's right. It translates to 'Night of Broken Glass', because there was a lot of broken glass in the streets after that. The thing was on my mothers side of the family, they were Jewish. On Dad's side they were Christians of Jewish descent. Being Christian made no difference to the Nazi's. They had Jewish roots, so to them Dad's family was still considered genetically inferior. That meant they were persecuted as well. Anyway, both families sold what they had left for whatever they could get and came to the States with their children. Both families settled in the New York area, and that's where Mom and Dad met. The rest is pretty much the same story as it is for everyone. They met, fell in love, got married and a few years later, I came along."

"So that's what your mother meant by your family history."

"That's right. You have to understand that by the time 'Kristallnacht' happened it was illegal for the average German citizen to own any kind of firearm. They couldn't fight back when the mobs came. All they could do was hide and hope to stay alive."

"And that's why she wants to keep these weapons."

"You got it. Actually, I'm kind of embarrassed for forgetting that. I should have remembered. But Mom is right. The chances are she and I will need these things some day. And as much as I hate to say it, that might be some day soon."

"Just you and your mother?"

Again Russell paused. He looked at Sandra and told her. "Sandra, I can't speak for you. I can't tell you what to do. Those are things you have to decide. I wouldn't want to make you feel obligated, especially considering what we are talking about. Because there is no doubt about it, if we have to use these things, the situation is going to be life or death serious. I can't ask you to take that kind of risk."

She squatted down next to him. She placed her hand on his arm. "Russell. It seems to me that I've already volunteered."

"Thank you, I think."

"You're welcome, I think. So tell me. If your families come from Germany, why are you called Porter? That doesn't sound very German to me."

"You're right. The name on my father's side was Portmann. Back in those days if someone arrived with a name that was hard to say, or the immigration people didn't like it for some reason, they would change it. It seems the immigration official thought the name wasn't American enough. So he changed it to Porter."

"You're kidding? They can do that?"

"Not anymore. But you have to remember. Back then if the immigrants came across as trouble makers, they might be sent back. Not a good choice for a German Jew back in the late 1930's. So the attitude became one of a new country, a new life, a new chance, and a new name. Or go back. A new name isn't that hard to get used to under those conditions. So we've been Porters ever since."

"How are you doing in there, Son?" Mom's voice came from the living room.

"I've got the cabinet cleared out and the bottom up. But do you think it's a good idea to put all of the ammo in here? If we need it in a hurry, it's going to be difficult to get out."

"We won't put all of it in there. Most of it, certainly. But not all. After that, we'll just have to trust The Lord that we will get enough warning to get it out when we do need it." She came into the kitchen and looked at what he and Sandra had accomplished. "Yes, I do believe there is enough room under there."

"Mrs. Porter. How do you know so much about this kind of thing?"

"I heard Russell telling you about our family. So you will understand when I say that as a child, and even a young adult, I heard my parents and their friends from the old country talking about how they had done these kind of things to hide anything from valuables to people from the Nazi's. It fascinated me.' She smiled at Sandra. "It gave my parents fits as well. As all young girls do, I had my little secrets I wanted to keep from them. I found ways to do that by listening to what they said. I've always been good at hiding things because of that."

"I'll say. When I was a kid and would look for my birthday or Christmas presents, I never could find them."

The women laughed.

"Well, you shouldn't have been looking in the first place." Mom reached out and tousled his hair. "Alright Son. It will be dark soon and then we can unload the crate and get things put away."

"Why wait?" Sandra asked. "Why not just bring them in now?"

"Because while our neighbors do tend to mind their own business, after the other night, you can bet there are some of them who are keeping an eye on us. Maybe they are afraid something that happens here will come to their yard, or maybe they just want to see what happens next. Either way, I don't want to attract too much attention."

"But the crate is in the back yard."

"For someone that is really curious, that won't make a difference. But in the darkness, we are a lot less likely to be noticed."

Within a short time, it was dark enough to satisfy Mom, and the three of them went out and started bringing the weapons and ammo inside. They wrapped the rifles in a blanket before lifting them out of crate. Russell hide them behind his body, as best he could, and quickly moved into the house. Behind him, Mom and Sandra took a couple of heavy cardboard boxes, one at a time, and partially filled them with the ammunition. That way the contents of the boxes didn't show to anyone watching. It took a couple of trips to get it all into the house. Once done with that, Russell followed his first impulse and put some of the firewood in the crate.

With the limited light provided by the oil lamps, Russell was able to get almost all of the ammunition under the floor under the kitchen sink. By pointing out certain places, Mom showed him how the rifles could be hidden away from casual observation, yet close enough to get to in a hurry. Sandra followed her advice without a question. Somehow during all of this Russell's mother had thrown together an evening meal for the three of them. Sandra sat quietly, as usual, while the two of them said grace over their meal. She was also the first to begin speaking.

"Mrs. Porter, do you think anyone saw us?"


"I don't think so. Russell got it out of sight as quickly as he could. And we kept the amount of light we used to a minimum while we had the door open. I don't think we have anything to be concerned about."

"Mom? What do you think? Are we going to have to use those things any time soon?" Russell asked.

Suddenly the sky, to the east, brightened for a few moments. As the light faded, the ground under them began to rumble as the sound waves traveled through the ground. The building vibrated briefly, but no damage was done. Russell noticed that after the flash, things seemed to be even darker than before. The three of them made their way to the front of the house and looked out. There had always been some lights at night. Government buildings, disbursement centers and fuel storage areas were always lighted up for protection purposes. Now there was nothing. There wasn't even the usual glow from the city, twenty miles away. There was no sign of power as far as the eye could see.

"Russell. You know I wouldn't do things just to be mean, don't you?"

"Of course you wouldn't, Mom. Why would you say that?"

"I think you need to get all of the ammunition out of hiding. It's time for plan B."

[sssarawolf]

Sorry in wrong place delete.

[day late]

The next couple of weeks could be summed up in one word. Chaos. Everyone knew what would happen next. They had seen it time and again since the troubles started. First there would be a rise in burglary and home invasions, as those who wanted to get while the getting was good or had scores to settle, began to take advantage of the over stretched law enforcement personnel. Without the fear of electronic surveillance, businesses were the next to suffer. Windows were broken, stores looted and only in areas where people shot back did the roving mobs stay away.

It had never been Russell's intention to get involved in anything, any more than he could avoid. It didn't work out that way. If you asked him, Russell would have had to say it was all accidental. But like his mother, he didn't really believe in accidents. It started on the day Washington D.C. had gotten nuked. While they weren't close enough to the blast for it to affect their personal electronic items, like lap tops, watches, and even cars. It had taken down the entire power grid. Without power, most of their things weren't going to work at all.

Mrs. Porter reached this conclusion about the time she saw how big the blackout was. Plan B. resulted in weapons being kept just barely out of sight in the living room and near the back door in the kitchen. The other two rifles were to be either in a bed room with a person, or in the hallway. But somewhere close by. Small stocks of ammunition were scattered throughout the home. Each one located near a natural choke point. For example, a pile of ammunition was hidden out of sight, near the end of the hallway. Anyone coming through the back rooms would have to enter it to reach another room. A person on the end of that hallway could stop a small advance. Russell also found a couple of small sheets of heavy gage metal. He put one of these on each side of the inside of a chair he kept at the end of the hallway, providing a defender with added protection, while not being visible to the casual observation. It was even comfortable to sit in. Just don't be in a hurry to move it.

Russell, Sandra and his mother talked to what neighbors would even come to the door that day. At first most of them spoke behind locked doors, if they spoke at all. A sense of unbelievable fear had fallen over everyone. Everything, that everyone had come to depend on, wasn't there. They were terrified. Even if they could call the police, would there be anyone there to answer? Rumors were everywhere and telling of everything. Not one with a piece of verifiable proof behind it. Finally they decided to have a bonfire in the street that night and people, neighbors and friends, would discuss what to do about the current situation.

Russell stood next to the fire as it started to take flame. He felt very obvious. Standing next to a fire with an AK-47 on his shoulder made him feel that way. But Mom had insisted.

"Russell, right now these people are frightened out of their wits. Everything they've been taught to believe in has been taken from them. If we stand by that fire, some folks will probably come out and talk with us. You show up with that rifle over your arm and even more will show up."

"I'd hardly think so. It seems to me that they want to avoid people with guns right now."

"Only the bad ones. They know you. They know me, and many of them have met Sandra. At first, only the ones that really trust you will come out. When others see that, they will feel like the meeting is protected. More will show up. Trust me. And remember, in a room full of people with questions, the one with the answers is the leader."

"So what makes you think that leader is me?"

"Because you think ahead in ways that nobody else even thinks of. Before you say anything, answer something for me. Why did you go through the trouble and expense of putting up that metal shed?"

"It was just a place to store things. Everyone has them."

"Nonsense. Not everyone has theirs bolted to a concrete slab. Or re-enforced the way yours is. You were thinking about people breaking in. Now, answer me this one. Why were you storing and rotating gas long before it ever really got short?"

"I just didn't want to have to go without, if something ever happened."

"Russell, you'll give me gray hair yet. Your car holds about sixteen gallons. You have somewhere over a hundred stored. Are you planning a road trip?"

"Only if I have to make one. But if I do, I'm ready."

"That's not the only thing you've been putting aside either, is it? I mean how many aspirins do you think I'm going to need?"

"It never hurts to have a few extras set aside."

"There we go. Another gray just popped out. Son, when are you going to quit trying to run from it and admit The Lord has been nudging you this way and that, for years. Sometimes it didn't make sense. But in the long run it has always worked out in your favor. It's time to admit it. He has plans for you. You are the one with the answers."

Russell looked down. He drew a deep breathe and spoke slowly and clearly as he let it out.

"Mom, you don't know how good that makes me feel. I've known that there was something different about what I was doing a long time back. But no matter how I tried, I couldn't help myself. I knew it was a case of being prodded by The Lord. I prayed about it enough. Like the shed. You are exactly right. I could foresee someone trying to break in. That's why it is so tough to get into. The same with the gas and other things. The reason I'm so happy about this is that you don't know what it's like doing these things and having people look at you funny. Can you imagine if I went around telling everyone that God told me to do it? The boys with the white coats would be at the door in no time. Funny thing is that even if I wanted to do that, I know it wasn't my calling. This is. But how do you tell people that without sounding like a lunatic?"

Russell trusted his mother, but said a prayer under his breathe anyway.

"Hello the fire! Mind if we come in?"

He turned at the sound, smiling. Good old Mr. Collins. A disabled vet. of World War II, and STILL a Marine, thank you very much. Never mind he no longer had use of his legs. Russell always felt he would be a good man to have at your back in a fight, disabled or not.

"Mr. Collins! I knew you'd show up. Good to see you." He held out his hand.

The old man rolled foreword in his wheelchair and shook his hand warmly. Pointing at the rifle, he said, "This is new for you Russell. You planning on a little varmint hunting or something?"

"It's more on the 'or something' side I'm hoping for."

"Well I'd like to hear your plans before signing off on anything. But I know you don't want to repeat them a dozen times before the fire burns out either. I'll wait for a few more to come, then we'll all quiz you." While the words were said to sound harsh the face clearly showed it was all in good humor.

Before long people began to gather near the fire. Before long there were about fifteen adults and several near adults present. It was Mr. Collins that finally said what everyone wanted to know.

"Russell. You have started a nice fire here. I think we all needed a night to remind ourselves we are not in this alone. Just hiding in our homes, waiting for who knows what. We have neighbors. People we have known and have trusted for years. In some cases for decades. So we thank you for that, but what is on your mind to make you start this little shin dig?"

"I think it's time we admit we are on our own and take steps to protect what we have. I'm just as in the dark about what is really going on as anyone else is. But I'm aware of what's going on outside my front door. I'm aware of what's happening to the people that live around me. And the same is true for everyone here. I think we need to use that and stick together now. We may not have seen any trouble yet, but you can bet we will."

"So are you saying we do some kind of neighborhood watch or something?" Someone asked.

"Something like that. Only I think of it more as circling the wagons. We take control of our neighborhood before someone else does. That way they can't. I've got a good feeling that more than one person here will do what it takes to defend their homes and loved ones. Mr. Collins, I'm not even going to ask about you."

The old Marine just smiled, sat back in his chair and patted his belly. Under the sweater he was wearing was a lump, but none dared to ask what it was. A ripple of gentle laughter went through the crowd.

"I'm sure there are more people here than just me that are ready right now, if the hoods and thugs choose this time to show up." He noticed certain men, and a few women as well, either took on a look of quiet pride, or avoided looking at anyone in particular. He went on. "We all know there is strength in numbers. That's what these thugs have been using against us. I think it is time to use it back."

"Now wait a minute." one man called out. "Even you have admitted that so far things have been pretty quiet around here. We don't have any reason to believe that will change. Why should we risk our necks if we don't have to?"

"Do me a favor. Just listen for a minute." Everyone got quiet and listened to the night. Within moments they all heard a number of gunshots, screams and other sounds that they couldn't or didn't want to identify. "Do you seriously think that isn't going to come here? It's only a matter of time before the looters are going to have taken everything they want from the people and stores near the fighting. Then they are going to start looking somewhere else. That somewhere else could be here. It WILL be here sooner or later, if we don't do something now."

"What makes you think the police aren't the reason we haven't seen these thugs?

"Son if you don't mind, I'll handle that one." Mr. Collins turned his chair to face the area the voice had come from. "I hope whoever said that doesn't really believe it. The reason we haven't seen trouble yet is just a matter of easy pickings. Those looters have that right now, but those stores aren't being restocked. Another thing. Have you even seen a police car lately? I haven't. And if you needed them, how would you call? As Russell has said, sooner or later they will come this way. They'll come here because we have what they want. And by the time they get here, they are not going to be afraid of taking from us.

Russell has a fine idea, and we don't have much time to decide what we are going to do. But since it is his idea, I say we put him in charge. And when I say in charge, I mean if he gives you an order you will obey it, or deal with me."

While some laughed at the joke, the point was driven home to all. Russell was in charge, and that was that.

[day late]

That was the moment the neighborhood protective association was born He thought as he looked back. They even appointed him with the title of Captain. Russell was smart enough to know when he was out of his depth. He wasn't about to lose the chance of getting as much help as he could.

"I hope you all don't regret your choice. But I can't do this alone. I'm going to need every able bodied person to stand a chance at this. I'm also not above asking for help when I know I need it. Mr. Collins. We know you've served before, will you serve again, even if it is just for this neighborhood."

"Son, are you sure you want a crippled up old man like me?"

"I couldn't think of anyone better. You remember things that we all wonder about. I think your advice would be invaluable."

The old man straightened in his chair. "I'd be honored."

"Thank you." He turned to the rest of them. "I know some of you are veterans, but I don't know what you did. Still, you have more training than the rest of us. I hope I can count on your help as well. And I'd like to ask that anyone who knows you might have to pull a trigger, but you are still willing to help to remain here for a little planning season and guard duty, hopefully starting tonight."

Nine people in all stayed that night. Russell managed to work out a system of rotation so that no man walked the streets for more than two hours. Should anything happen the men on guard were to give the alarm in the form of a car horn blowing non stop. When that happened everyone would converge on the spot and then move together to handle whatever the problem was. It wasn't much of a plan he knew, but it was a start.

Once the first two began walking their rounds and knew where to find the next two, Russell asked Mr. Collins to come by his house so they could discuss the situation. He agreed and they were shortly having coffee in the lamp lit living room of Russell's home.

"Son, I have to tell you, starting patrols around the area is a good idea but you're doing it wrong."

"Mr. Collins, I'm sure you're right. But this is my first try at something like this. That's why I wanted you to help me. You know what has to be done and how to do it, I don't. And I don't want to get anybody killed."

"Well, I'm glad you asked me by, because you are already setting yourself up for a fall." He stopped for a moment and looked down at his legs. Then looking up, a silent tear in his eye, he spoke again. "It's been said and I'll tell you it's the truth, that no plan ever survives first contact with the enemy. You can make your plans, but once the first bullet is fired, hit or miss it doesn't matter. Men WILL NOT react according to plan. The first thing on the minds of everyone involved is going to be staying alive. After that, maybe they will follow the plan, we hope so anyway, maybe they won't. But make no mistake, you WILL lose people.

Alright, now that I've got you scared about this, let me offer some advice. You are sending people out on patrol. I would at the very least double, more likely quadruple, the number of patrols that you have now. The more eye's you have looking, the less likely you're going to have someone sneak up on you. But even before that, how are your logistics? By that I mean what state are your supplies in? Does everyone have what they need? Does anyone have extra things they are willing to share? How many weapons are at your disposal and how much ammo do you have for them? Most people don't keep more than a box or two. What do you do when that runs out? And that could easily be done in the first firefight with limited supplies."

"What do we do? It's not like we can run to the store and buy more ammo when we need it. And right now we only have nine men, including you and me. That's not much to work with."

"You take weapons and ammo from those poor souls who come here and won't ever need it again. You will have more men, if for no other reason they will be shamed into doing something. If not, I'll do my best to draft them."

"Draft them? How do you propose to do that?"

"You don't worry yourself about that. I'll supply the personnel, you supply the leadership we saw tonight. Now, how big of an area do you plan on defending? That defines how many men you'll need."

"I'd like to at least start with this development. That's what? Nine square blocks?"

"That makes sense. People will have common bonds. Neighbor watching neighbor and that sort of thing. Alright, I know how to work with that. But your first problem you will have is establishing your perimeter." Mr.Collins picked up a piece of paper and quickly sketched out the area. "Ideally each of the homes along this outside edge would be evacuated and fortified. But as you've said we don't have the men or supplies to do that. Besides, where would the evacuees go? I think the best we can do for now is to make those places as hard to break into as possible. The families keep living there, and if anything happens, they sound the alarm. Have you thought of anything better than a car horn?"

Russell nodded his head. "If possible, on each end of every street we will hang something made out of metal and a hammer. That will be loud enough for others to hear and spread the word."

"Now that's a thought. Easy to reach, loud and pretty much idiot proof."

The conversation went on, until late in the night. Soon plans were made for a constant patrol around the neighborhood. But there were still the twin problems of the people in the homes allowing their houses to become the front line, and making certain there was enough firepower to repel any serious attack as well as ammunition for them. Then Mr. Collins brought up an issue he hadn't thought of.

"What are we going to do about water? The pressure on the mains has kept us supplied for awhile, but I'm surprised we are getting any at all. And another thing. Have you considered what happens when this area is "safe" and the areas around us aren't? Those people will want to come here."

"The river isn't too far from here. For right now, we'll have to find a way to get water from there to here. Now if we only had a way to filter it."

"Leave that to those who know."

"I leave it in your hands. About others coming here, we can't care for everyone. I do think it would be a good idea to help them defend themselves. Maybe after that, we can join together in mutual support or something."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you're not going to try to save the whole world at once."

"Oh, so that's going to take more than nine people I guess?" Russell joked.

The older man smiled. "One or two."

Oddly enough the last issue to be decided was where to sleep. Mr. Collins settled it when he told Russell, "Son. I'M sleeping on the couch. I won't drive someone from their bed, and besides, it is easier for me to get around in here with this chair than in your room. Now, go to bed. We have a shift in a few hours. I want you on your toes."

Between four and six A.M. Russell and Mr. Collins spent their time moving around the neighborhood. Earlier sentries had informed the home owners when they had come around about the patrols, and advised them of the newly formed neighborhood protective association. Not even the few people who were awake at that time questioned them. Mr. Collins used the time to pass on pieces of his own experience to Russell.

"Russell, there is a lot for you to learn, and almost no time for you to learn it. I'd like to show you a few things, and try to help you out a little."

"That's why I wanted you to join in with me. You see things differently than I do. Have you picked up anything on your radio, or is it down too?"

Mr. Collins was an avid listener to shortwave broadcasts from around the world. It enabled him to go places he would never see.

"Russell, since you are the first one who has asked, I'll tell you. We've been nuked. I haven't told the others because we don't want a panic. My equipment still works, so I guess we are out of range of any immediate threat from that quarter. However, I would imagine that it was followed up by an invasion. That is the reason law enforcement is having such a time with these riots. The military is occupied trying to repel the invaders. That means we are REALLY on our own." He paused for a moment. "We HAVE to defend ourselves, because nobody else can. Tell me, since we've been out here, have you noticed the size of the area we are defending?"

"It's pretty big."

"I've seen worse. But the real question is, have you seen why we need to increase the number of patrols?"

"I think I do. While we are on this side of the neighborhood we don't know what is happening anywhere else. More patrols mean people trying to enter this area are more likely going to be seen by someone."

"Exactly. The more eyes you have watching, the less likely they can pull something on you. No need for everyone to lose sleep. Just make sure that you rotate the patrols like you've done tonight. Two hours on, and four hours off, is the best way to work it."

In the still early morning hours as the sun was beginning to lighten the landscape the sound of automatic weapons fire came to them. That was followed by more gunshots. Soon what sounded like a fire fight was in full swing. They listened to it as they continued on their way. After a short time, the sounds died away. The men spoke again.

"That was closer than last evening." Russell said.

"That's right. And it is going to get closer still. Russell, as soon as our shift is up, I'm going door knocking. I expect by lunch or a little after you will have more people to work with. What you have to do is lead them. Lead by example. The Army uses the expression 'Follow me.' in training their men. That is what you have to do. Nobody is going to follow an armchair general. They need to and have every right to expect you to face the same dangers as them."

The conversation went on for awhile longer as the two of them patrolled. They even had a couple of conversations with some early risers who wanted more information about the 'protective association'. Russell noticed that as they spoke, Mr. Collins was already into his recruitment speech. He soon had enlisted three more men to join in the effort. In his heart, he hoped that all of this would prove unnecessary but somehow knew it would be.

[day late]

The two men went their separate ways at the appointed hour of six. Mr. Collins went home, got something to eat and a thermos of coffee, and got his grand daughter, Cindy, to help him go from house to house. He could make it to all of them, but not in the same day, without some occasional help.

By the time he started, many of the people were awake. Most of them had been contacted sometime the evening before, and knew at least something was going on. Many had gathered on the street to talk about it. That made it easier for the old Marine. When they showed up at many houses, the men, and often women, were ready to help out however they could to defend their homes. Some men had to be convinced by Mr. Collins. Which he did in various ways. In some cases he would heartlessly shame the 'man of the house' into actually doing his duty to his family. In another he suggested that the man's neighbors were going to know who was on the line, and who wasn't. And most of them had already signed on. He hadn't talked with the rest yet. It was when he met Darrel Kelley that he met his match.

"Mr. Collins." Darrell called out through the screen door on the front of the house. "Good to see you. What can I do for you and your Grand daughter?"

"Good morning Mr. Kelley. I was hoping to speak to you about something that's going on." He said as he and Cindy entered the home. "Have you heard about the new neighborhood protective association?"

"I heard something about it. People have been talking about it since last night. Your going to defend this area in light of what is happening, and you want every able bodied man to help out on the line. Is that about it?"

"I like a man who speaks his mind. Saves time on useless chatter that way. But yes, you're right. That's about it."

"Then I can't help you. Not like that at any rate. And I don't think you want me to be there anyway."

"Mr. Kelley. I appreciate your bluntness. With your permission I will be equally blunt."

"Please go ahead."

"Why do you refuse to fight for your own home? Are you afraid of dieing? Welcome to the club. And I've been here before. Don't you think you have a responsibility to protect not only yourself, but those you know and, I hope, care for? What is it Mr. Kelley? Why don't you want to do your part?"

"I never said I wouldn't do my part. I said I don't think you want me on the front lines. Do you know what I did before I came here and went to work in the pharmacy?"

"No. I've never been given that information. Since you didn't talk about it, I didn't ask. A man has a right to privacy." Mr. Collins said stiffly.

"Believe me, I appreciate that. Before coming here, I was an E.M.T. in New York for about ten years. I've seen a few things. It wasn't the work that got to me. It was the location. I just couldn't put up with the big city anymore. But I enjoyed being able to help people. Now, do you still want me on the front lines?"

It was amusing to Darrell to watch Mr. Collins' face go from stern, to surprised and then split with a wide grin, all within a matter of moments.

"I see your point. I'm glad to meet you 'Doc'. May I count you as one of us?"

"I'll do what I can, but I've got nothing. A well stocked first aid kit as you might guess, but nothing for what might be coming our way. We need supplies, badly. Do you think we can do anything about that?"

"I'm sure we can." He looked at his watch. "It's about Ten o'clock. Will you be ready to go to the pharmacy at, say, between one and two?"

"I can be."

"Well Doc, I don't mean to take you into harms way. The fighting hasn't reached your area of town yet. I think we can get in and out before it does. But I don't know what you need or can use. You have to go with us, and we will be covering your every move with men on each side. Just in case."

"I'll be ready."


For his part, Russell had gone home, eaten and tried to get a few winks before getting started on the day. But he found that he couldn't sleep. Instead he got up, and went to a desk and started trying to work out plans for the defense of the neighborhood. He was fortunate in one aspect. The area was bordered by a four lane road on two sides. One of them was between the neighborhood and the fighting. In order to make the area more attractive to buyers, the builders had put in a eight foot tall and very stout wall between the neighborhood and the surrounding areas, as a noise barrier. Russell knew enough to know that the four openings in that wall made to allow access to the neighborhood were going to be the first weak points the rioting looters and gang members would go for. He began to draw up plans on how to best prevent that from happening.

With another part of his mind, he realized there was far too much wall and too few people to guard it all. He decided that he would establish strong points along the perimeter wall. One near each corner, and at least two more between them. The two in the center would provide mutual support for each other as they guarded the gateway in the wall.

One thing he wasn't looking forward to was talking with people who lived in certain houses along the wall. For one reason or another, their yard was a weak point in the wall. In one case the ground on the far side rose up to the point where a man could easily climb over it. In another, there was a culvert that went under the wall to a drainage ditch on the other side. Those areas, as well as others would need special attention. He decided to speak with Mr. Collins after lunch.

In the mean time, most of the cars parked along the street still had some fuel in them when they were parked the last time. He would use them to barricade the entrances. Not blocking them off completely, but making it impossible for someone to come speeding into the area to drop off men, or to shoot the place up in order to terrorize the people living there. The next point he concerned himself with was the wall it's self. Besides, places that could be easily breached there were long sections which someone could climb over it and enter the area that way. After careful thought and prayer, he decided on both a long term and short term goals. The most immediate was easily taken care of. Anything which could be used to slow down a man on foot would be placed near the wall in the backyards of the people who lived next to it. Broken glasses and dishes, nails could be driven though boards and placed points up, anything at all that might help defend the area by slowing down any invaders would be used.

The longer term goal was to place a series of steps against the wall. These could be used by defenders to step up on and shoot over the wall, while using it for protection. He didn't see to much trouble in convincing people that it would be in their interest to let this happen in their yards. After all, those steps are going to be the places where the men with guns are. They will be the best protected yards in the area.

He turned his mind to two other concerns that were immediate. Food and water. Mr. Collins was undoubtedly right when he said it was only pressure that was keeping them supplied with water. That wouldn't last through the day. He set his mother and Sandra to filling everything that would hold water, including the bathtubs, while they could still get it. Then his thoughts turned to the others. He knew that Arthur, who lived down the street, had a pick up. If they found enough containers, large ones preferably, they could take them to the river and fill them. At the same time, Mr. Collins could be building his filter system for the water. Food was going to be the major concern. With this attack, according to Mr. Collins, there was no telling if the disbursement centers were going to be open for business or not. But for the moment, everyone would be responsible for feeding their own families as best they could. They were all in the same boat on that concern.

"Russell? There are some people here to see you." His mother's voice interrupted his thinking. Looking at his watch, he realized he had spent far more time in his planning than he intended. It was nearly twelve-thirty.

"Thanks Mom. I lost track of time." He stood and walked to the front door.

He was very surprised to find thirty men in formation, and Mr. Collins.

"Sir. These men have volunteered to help defend this neighborhood. I have taken the liberty of dividing them into sections and have appointed a section leader over each of them. I hope this meets with your approval."

"I'm sure you have things well in hand Mr. Collins." He stepped down from the front porch and walked up and down the lines of men. He shook hands with each of them and told them "Thank you." After meeting each one of them he moved to the front and called for Mr. Collins.

"Mr. Collins, I have worked out a method of getting water. How soon can you have the filters ready?"

"I can have at least four of them operational within an hour. Do I take it you will be leaving the perimeter?"

"Yes. I will be taking a pick up and possibly two other vehicles. The truck to carry water, and the other one or two as guards. I wanted to talk to you before making up my mind."

"Sir, I recommend six vehicles. With a total of eighteen men. On two separate missions."

"Two missions? What is the second one?"

Mr. Collins told him about the man named Kelley, and his need for medical supplies.

"Mr. Collins, how do you think we should do this?"

"As you said Sir. One vehicle for the cargo, two for guards. I like the idea of showing up with more force than is necessary. It makes it less likely it will be necessary."

"Very well, Please select the men you want for each team going out. Remember, I'll be going as well."

"Yes Sir."

Two hours later, the six vehicles moved carefully between the barricades of parked cars that had by now been placed. Russell found himself sitting next to Kelley. He also found that while he wanted to go with Kelley, he also wanted to be taking the risk of getting water as well. He decided quickly that he had to focus on what he was doing and trust The Lord to look after both teams.

Little was said between the men as they rolled down the road. Each of them busy with their own thoughts. Mainly praying that no use of force would be necessary. They soon pulled up in front of the pharmacy. Two men got out of one of the cars and took up positions on each side of the door. The second car pulled up in front of the building, while the third went to the rear of the building to guard that entrance. Russell and Kelley got out of the second car and walked to the front door. Kelley tried it, and found it locked. He pulled a key from his pocket, opened the door and together the men walked in.

"Mr. Guthrie? Mr. Guthrie, are you here? It's me. Darrell Kelley." He stopped for a second. Then he handed a list to Russell. "See how many of each of these you can find. Don't worry, it's just bandages and stuff. Let me find my boss." He turned and moved through the store, towards the back office.

Russell picked up a shopping basket and began loading supplies into it. Several minutes later he realized Kelley had returned.

"Did you find Mr. Guthrie?"

"I found him."

"Well, when is he coming out here for us to pay him?"

"Just take what you want. He won't care."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. Guthrie is in his chair. His brains are on the wall. Take everything."

[sssarawolf]

I did it again.Sorry

[day late]

"He's dead?"

"And his wife. They are both back there. It looks to me like they did it to themselves late last night, or early this morning."

"I wonder what would make them do that?"

"It might have something to do with this." Darrell handed a piece of paper to him. "I found it on his desk."

Russell looked at it. It was a governmental notice of what Mr. Collins had already said. America had been attacked and invaded. Everything that followed was a list of items that would no longer be available to the general public. Mostly the list matched the one that Darrell had given him. The reasoning being that these items would be needed by the government to care for wounded soldiers. It went on to advise him that government vehicles would be by to collect whatever he had in a few days time. It went on to praise him for his 'contribution' to the war effort. It also thanked him for his patriotism by 'offering' this assistance. No mention was made of compensation.

Russell folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

"What do you want that for?" Darrell asked.

"It's official conformation that we are at war. I think people will want to see it. So what do we do now, Doc?"

"Put down the basket and get a cart. Load up as much as you can of the bandages, ointments, soap, shampoo and the other things on the list. I'll check on the pharmaceuticals."

It took Russell five trips with the cart to fill the trunk and most of the back seat of their car. Then he decided that it couldn't hurt to put as much as he could in the first car. Soon the trunk of it to was filled with bandages, toilet paper, tooth brushes and paste, and he even remembered that women have certain needs that men don't. He proceeded to clear the shelves of feminine hygiene products. At first he felt like a looter himself. Then he realized that there was an important difference. The looters where taking things for themselves. What they were doing was for the benefit of his entire community. And should things change and the area of protection expand, he was willing to share what they had, as far as it would go.

For his part, Kelley carefully went through the limited available supply of drugs. He selected only those that he was familiar with, and knew how to use. He carefully placed these into a cart, so as to not break any of the containers, and left the rest behind him. He then stopped and picked up a number of across the counter medicines and added them to his stock pile as well. Shortly he was pushing one cart out the door and pulling another behind him. Russell started to help him, but it soon became clear that they needed the third car to take everything they had. Many of the things that Russell had taken were in bulk packages. Things such as the toilet paper, paper towels, and other items took up a lot of room. They managed to get everything into the three vehicles and moved out for home, after Darrell had locked the door behind himself. On the way back, one thing caught Russell's eye and he had to ask about it.

"Why did you bring these things?" He said as he picked a box containing a pregnancy test kit.

"Do you seriously think people will stop being people because we are at war?"

"No. I guess not."

The second convoy hadn't returned from the trip to the river by the time they got back, weaving their way between the parked cars. Russell was quite pleased to see several men guarding the entrance to the development that they came in. He assumed that by now Mr. Collins had all three other entrances as well guarded. Each of the men were armed, but about half of them had only handguns. The rest had an assortment of rifles and shotguns. A very few had both a long arm, and a side arm. Russell got out of his car at the gate, and the supplies were taken to 'Doc' Kelley's home.

Russell had spoken with Mr. Collins about the firing step he wanted to put along the wall, and could see that there were already steps being taken to accommodate the idea. There were no permanent steps built, but there was a line of short tables, old couches and even boards laid on top of concrete blocks to provide a place to fire from for the defenders, all along the wall in both directions from where he was standing. Around the entrance way it's self there were a number men. A few were on one side of the entrance, the rest were on the other. Russell later learned that Mr. Collins had positioned them this way, so that any vehicle stopped by the barricade would also be in a crossfire position.

"Does anyone know where Mr. Collins is at?" He asked of no one in-particular.

"He's everywhere." Came the answer.

Russell smiled at the comment. He could easily see the old man rolling from one place to the next overseeing the work, making certain that it all met his exacting standards. And where necessary making people start over on their project, whatever it may be. He turned and began to walk up the street towards his home. As he did so he began to look at the neighborhood through new eyes. He saw with the eyes of both an attacker and the defender. He began to try to figure out where the weakest points in their defenses might be and how to best defend them.

He reached a point near the center of the community, when he found a newly constructed rack, with several buckets in two rows, one over the other, standing in Mr. Collins front yard. Mr. Collins himself was making a few final adjustments to the device.

"What on earth is that?" Russell asked.

"Our water filter." Mr. Collins said. "It works like this. First you pour the water to be filtered into this first bucket. I've filled it with material meant to get as much trash out of the water as possible. The water comes out holes we've put in the bottom of the bucket, and into the one below it. That is step one. From there you just repeat the same thing over and over again, until you've passed the water though every filter here. The water won't be absolutely pure, but it should be drinkable."

"Amazing. How much water can you filter with this thing."

"Quite a bit, but the real problem is going to be how fast can we do it. This contraption is good for a few people, but with as many as we have, people are going to be waiting in line for water. I'm planning on more of them. Where do you want them put?"

"I think that one near each corner of this development would be a good place to start. That way people can filter the water for themselves near their homes."

"I will get started on it first thing tomorrow."

"Thank you." He thought for a moment before speaking again. "Mr. Collins, You have become my de facto second in command, without anyone asking you to do it. And you certainly know more about this kind of thing than I do. Do you want to head this little operation?"

"No, Son. Not only am I happy to just offer assistance, the people around here wouldn't follow an old man like me. A young fellow like yourself, him they will follow, but not me. I am pleased to help in whatever way I can to make your job easier. And believe me, it WILL get a lot tougher before it gets better."

As they had been speaking, Russell had heard the other convoy returning. He left Mr. Collins to find and guide the pick up to the filtering station Mr. Collins had set up. He wasn't ready for what he found. Of the three vehicles that had left, only the truck and one car had returned. Both of them had bullet holes in them. But fortunately all of the people returned, even though four of them had injuries. He told a couple of the men driving to take them directly to Darrell Kelley for treatment. Then he grabbed the man in charge of the convoy and asked about what happened.

"Captain, I'm not entirely sure what happened. We were filling the last of the barrels we had on the truck, and everything had gone fine as could be. All of a sudden these guys show up from nowhere and demanded our cars. We told them no, and they started shooting. Don't ask me how it happened, but Tom's car somehow caught fire and we decided to just get out of there."

"What about the people who attacked you? Did they try to follow you, or do anything else?"

"I don't know, Sir. We were just scared and trying to leave. I don't know if we even hit anyone while the shooting was going on. I'm sorry I can't tell you more than that. I didn't do a very good job of taking care of the people with me. I'll resign as section leader if you want me to."

"Just hold off on that. This isn't a total loss. True, you lost a car, but you didn't lose any people, and you did get the water. All in all, I'd say you didn't do half bad for your first engagement."

"Thank you, Sir. But I still feel bad about it."

"There are losses in every war. Thank God you only lost equipment. You go ahead and see to your men. Let me know how they are doing."

"Yes Sir."

As the man moved away to check his people, Russell thought about the night ahead. The sounds of the fighting were drawing ever nearer. Tonight, he thought, tonight they are going to get here. He looked up, and prayed.

"Lord, Please help us."

"Amen." The voice came from behind him. Russell turned and found Mr. Collins had rolled up behind him. The old man smiled up at Russell. "Looks like tonight everyone is going to learn the truth. It's just like that French officer said in World War I. 'There are no atheists in foxholes'. And tonight, everyone gets to learn exactly what they are made of. Sir, I think it wise that you get to sleep as early as possible. Because somewhere in the middle of the night, you are going to need to be your sharpest. We don't need you half asleep. I'll take care of things to get ready for our visitors. When they arrive, you take over."

"Thank you Mr. Collins. I think that's a good idea." He started to head back home when he stopped and turned back to Mr. Collins. "But the way, what was your rank when you were discharged?"

"Gunnery Sargent."

"Well, if I'm a Captain I guess you need to revert to your old rank. Don't you think so, Gunny?"

"I never stopped being one."

"Alright Gunny, I leave it in your hands. If anything happens make sure I'm the second one you call."

"The second?"

"I figured you'd want to get men on the wall before you bother about me."

"That's true. Very well Sir. If the gun shots don't wake you, I will."

Russell left to return home for something to eat and some sleep. Gunny Collins began to position men along the wall with instructions to keep an extra sharp eye open tonight, but the majority of them he simply made sure where they would be at, at any given time. Once the attack started, he would send them to the place where they would do the most good. He looked up, and saw that it wouldn't be long before darkness came and he knew that with it, the enemy would come.

Russell sat in his chair after having eaten. His mother and Sandra sat nearby.

"Well, Mom, what do you think? Are we going to have trouble tonight?"

"God only knows, Son. But I know this much. If it happens, The Lord has already taken care of this community by giving us you as a leader. I'm not worried about it."

"Well, that makes one of us." He smiled at her. "I'm going to get some sleep before I have to go on watch. Good night Ladies."

He left the two women alone. Sandra sat thinking for a long time. There was no doubt about it. There was something to what Mrs. Porter had been saying all along. The Lord takes care of us before we even know we are in trouble, is what she said. Time after time even in the short period she had been with Russell and Mrs. Porter she had seen it happen. As much as she wanted to, there was no denying it. She made up her mind and spoke to her.

"Mrs. Porter. What exactly does it take to become a Christian?"

"A.B.C."

"What does that mean?"

"A. Admit you are a sinner and can not save your self.

B. Believe in The Lord, Jesus Christ. That He came to earth to die for the sins of any who will believe in Him.

C. Confess with your mouth that Jesus IS Lord and The Son of God who died for you.

It's not hard. The Lord didn't want it to be that way. It's all about faith. About what you believe. So what do you believe, my Dear?"

"I believe you are right. Would you pray with me? Show me how it is done."

"I'd love to."

[day late]

Russell slept soundly up until the time he was awakened just before four A.M. He started his watch by walking around the perimeter of the neighborhood. To their credit, the guards stopped and challenged him twice as he walked the line. Still he was more concerned about what was happening outside the lines, rather than inside. He heard the sound of gunfire coming from an area not far from where he was. It served to confirm to him that tonight was THE night. It was only a matter of time. He walked towards the main entrance of the area. As he got close he heard a voice, both loud and commanding, in the night.

"STOP where you are. Don't come any closer."

At first, he thought the voice was talking to him. Then he heard an answer.

"Who the hell are you? What do you think you are doing, telling me what I can or can't do?"

"I'm the guy with the gun. Now you and those other guys with you can just back off. We don't want your kind around here."

"You think you have a choice? We go where we want to go. Not even the cops can stop us. YOU back off before we get mad. Or else we'll hurt you."

"Don't try it."

There was no answer to that challenge. Russell found himself hoping that whoever was trying to get into the neighborhood would simply leave in view of the fact that people were willing to defend it. For a few moments he thought that perhaps they had left. Then the gunfire started. In spite of his fears, he ran towards the sound.

When he got to the main entrance to the area, he found the men on the right side of it were engaged in a vicious firefight with people on the outside the wall. The ones on the left side were highly alert, but not a part of the battle. Wondering why, he ran to the right side of the wall.

"What's happening?" He asked of the first man he came across.

"Some people are trying to get in here, Sir." A bullet bounced off the wall above them, and both of them ducked at the sound. The man smiled. "They are kind of mad we won't let them in."

"Keep it up. It looks like we're winning."

"You got it, Sir."

Wisely the man waited until the sound of bullets hitting the wall drifted farther away from him, and then he stood up behind the wall and fired his pistol randomly into the dark. His efforts were rewarded by a cry of pain from somewhere in the night. As he ducked down to reload his weapon, numerous bullets hit the wall where he had been firing from a moment before. Those shots were answered by other men along the wall.

"Conserve your ammo." Russell told him. "Try to only shoot when you have a target."

"Yes Sir. If they let me."

When the shooting again drifted away from them, Russell stood and leveled the AK-47 over the wall and pulled the trigger. Unknown by him the weapon was set for full automatic. Before he knew it, he had fired over fifteen rounds into the dark, without a target in sight. He simply fired at the muzzle flashes of the weapons being used against them, He dropped down. The man he had been talking with looked at him.

"Conserve your ammo. Try to shoot only when you have a target." He grinned at Russell. "I guess we all get excited. Don't we Sir."

"I guess so."

It was the AK-47 that broke the will of the people trying to invade the neighborhood. While they were willing to risk facing gunfire by what they thought of as 'normal' weapons, a machine gun was just too much for them. They faded back into the shadows and the firing died away.

The eastern sky was just starting to lighten as the fighting ended. Carefully, Russell peeked over the wall. He saw four men on the ground, and they weren't moving. He ducked down again.

"Is anybody hit?" He shouted.

"I got a nick, but I'm okay." Someone called out.

"They got Charlie. He's down and bleeding." Another man called out.

"Everyone stay where you are. Keep a watch. I'll get him."

Russell was already moving, even as he spoke. When he got to Charlie, he found that he had been hit in the shoulder. The bullet seemed to have passed through his body without doing much damage, but he couldn't be sure. By this time a number of people had gathered nearby. Most of them carried weapons, which he was glad to see. He signaled two of them to come closer. When they got to him, his instructions were simple.

"Take him to Doc Kelley. Stay low and try not to be seen from the entrance. Go."

The men, as gently as possible lifted Charlie to his feet and together they moved as quickly as they could down the street as they had been told.

"Is anybody else hit?"

A chorus of No's ran up and down the line. Russell was glad about that.

"Ammo check." He shouted. "Everyone check you're ammo. Get more if you need it. Every other man move out to pick it up, then the rest of you when the first ones get back."

He heard the men saying 'Yes Sir' as he turned and headed for Doc Kelley. It was just a few moments before he was standing at Darrell's front porch asking about the man whom he had never seen before.

"He'll be alright." Darrell told him. "The wound is through and through. No bones were broken or major blood vessels hit. What about you?"

"Me? They didn't even come close to getting me."

"Yeah? Then, what's that? Ketchup?" Darrell pointed at his side. Russell looked down, and sure enough his side was bleeding.

"Oh. I didn't notice it in the excitement. That's from before this. I'm okay."

"Yeah, right. Come in, take your shirt off and let me have a look."

"Really, Doc. I'm okay. Just make sure he's going to be alright." Russell said pointing at the wounded man.

"Captain, right now you have two choices. First, you can let me check you. The second is I'm going to find a two or three of really big guys to hold you down while I check you. Which will it be?"

Russell smiled. "No other choice huh?"

"Nope. Come in, sit down and get that shirt off."

Russell did so. It didn't take long for Kelley to see that Russell had told him the truth. The wound he had gotten from Bruce and the resulting surgery had begun to heal, but in the heat of the moment, Russell had overdone it a little bit, but only one of the stitches had pulled out.

"Alright Captain, I don't think you are in any danger, but I'm going to replace that suture, just to keep the wound closed and clean. Do you want anything for the pain?"

"Doc, until you pointed it out to me, I didn't even feel it. Now it DOES hurt. But I think I better do without the pain killer. I need to be clear headed for awhile longer."

"Alright. Suit yourself. Cindy!" He called for Gunny Collins' grand daughter. She came in from the next room.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Give me a hand here, will you? Just hold his arm up while I close this wound."

"Yes Sir."

It wasn't long before Russell was back on the street, checking on his men and the situation. He found that they were all in good spirits after having successfully defended their homes.

"Sir? What about them?" One man asked pointing to the bodies in the street. The advice of Gunny Collins came back to him. "Take a couple of men with you. Get their weapons and every round of ammo you can find. Then dump them further away from here. Dump them in plain sight. It might let others know that the idea that attacking here isn't a good one."

"Yes Sir."

"Congratulations Captain. It appears your first fight was successful."

Turning, Russell found Mr. Collins sitting behind him.

"I don't know if I would call it that. We've got two men wounded, maybe more. That's not exactly what I would call a good day."

"You're wrong, Captain. Yes, you have a couple of injured men, but none of them were killed. AND you have taught the enemy that if he wants to come here, he is going to need a lot more people who are willing to die. All in all, I'd call it a very good day, so far."

"I guess I see what you mean. But I could have gotten everybody killed."

"Captain, get ahold of yourself. You've done well so far. And you've done more than anyone else. If you hadn't done what you've done, we'd all be in it deep right about now. Just listen to your men."

Russell paused to listen to the men along the line, for the first time. They were all talking proudly about how they had shown those looters a thing or two. He also heard men talking about things that had happened to them during the fight.

"Man. That bullet almost took my head off. But that's okay, he isn't going to be shooting at anybody else."

"Did you see how I was firing at them? They couldn't get a shot at me, I was putting out so much lead."

He listened as they talked among themselves. Clearly they were proud of what they had done in defending themselves and their families.

"Sir, if I may give a word of advice, never show the men your doubts and fears. They need to know that they follow a fearless leader. It gives them confidence."

"But I was scared half to death."

"I know. It happens every time to every leader. But these people don't need to know that. They need to know that you are there with them and you will always fight beside them. They need to believe that you are the toughest son of a gun they have ever seen."

"I sure don't feel like it."

"Nobody ever does. Just don't show it to them. Do that, and you'll do alright."

"Thanks, Gunny. I think I'm going to get clean and find a new shirt."

"Sir, I'd check that wound before anything else."

"It's already been looked at, Gunny. I'm fine. That's why I need a new shirt."

"Very well, Sir. I'll check the men."

"Thanks Gunny."

Russell left him to go home. Both his mother and Sandra were concerned about the blood that had soaked into his shirt. They became less worried when they heard that he had already been seen by Doc Kelley.

"So how are we doing? Sandra asked him.

"Well the bad guys are still the outside of the wall. And we only had two people hurt. They lost at least four, that I know of. So far, I'd say we're doing alright." He told them as he pulled off his shirt, and put on another one he had gotten from his room.

"Can you keep them out? And if so, how long?" Mom wanted to know.

"Judging by what happened today, it depends on how much ammo people use. A couple of our guys ran out, they were shooting so much. I need to talk to Mr. Collins about that. See what we can do to cut down on the rate we are using it."

"About the only thing we can do is try to train them in 'one shot, one kill'. That is what the military does." Mr. Collins said later that day when Russell caught up with him. "But you have to understand that once the shooting starts, there are no promises. When your heart gets pumping like that, common sense goes out the window. A man will shoot every round he has, if he believes that will keep him alive. I'll have a word with the men, Sir."

No sooner had the two finished speaking than the sound of gunfire reached them. Someone was putting out a lot of rounds of ammo. Russell started to go towards the sound, when he realized it was coming to him, along with the sound of racing engines. Wondering what could be happening He tried to get a look though the entrance way of the development. Only to quickly jump out of the way as a police car slid sideways in front of him and then accelerated into the area. Not expecting the barricade the car plowed into it and stopped moving, only half way though the entrance. At the same time two cars pulled up behind the police car. Several men got out and began to shoot at the crashed car. Every man near the entrance turned his weapon on the unsuspecting attackers. One of the cars managed to speed off, riddled with bullet holes and leaving the men who had gotten out to fend for themselves. The other car had it's engine shot to pieces and it quit running. Of the seven men who had gotten out of the cars, six were gunned down. One man, who was further away than the rest saw what was happening and ran for it. He was stuck twice as he ran, but continued to move until he was out of sight, across the road.

"Somebody get Doc Kelley." Russell shouted as he ran to the police car.

He reached out and pulled open the drivers door. The officer inside fell out of the car, into his arms. He was obviously hurt from the crash, and Russell thought he saw a bullet wound, but at the moment he was more concerned about getting the man inside the barricade. A couple of men came to his aid and pulled another officer from the passengers side. Together they got the officers inside and laid out flat on the ground, waiting for Kelley to show up. It was only then that he got a good look at the man he had rescued. It was Sgt. Wentz.

[day late]

Doc Kelley examined the two officers when he arrived. Both men were injured more it the crash than by the people shooting at them. Sgt. Wentz ended up with a broken nose from the accident, along with a fractured lower jaw, aside from multiple small cuts and bruises. Officer Peters was in worse shape, with a broken leg and a broken arm. But neither one of them had life threatening injuries. He soon had them taken to his home to treat them. Russell helped in getting Sgt. Wentz to the house. Partly because he thought he owed him something after what had already happened. But also he hoped to find out more about the state of affairs in the country. Mr. Collins was with him, wheeling through the house checking on the previously injured men.

Russell was also wondering how he could keep up the defense of the neighborhood. Four men were injured getting water, two more while they were fighting at the wall. Between the nine men who stepped up on the first night, and the thirty more that Mr. Collins had gathered, he had nearly a quarter of the people under his command already wounded. He thanked God that no one had yet been killed, but even he knew they could not afford to keep taking hits like this. At that rate, soon there wouldn't be anyone left to do anything.

Russell walked around to talk with the people who Kelley was already treating. They were in good spirits, all things considered. Soon he came to speak with Kelley.

"Doc? How are we doing?" Russell asked. "Are any of these wounded people well enough to go back on duty, or should we think about trying to get them to a hospital?"

"Yes and no. One of the men hurt getting water took one in the abdomen. I've got him stable and he will recover, but he needs more help than I can provide for him here. One of the officers that was brought in might need traction for his leg to mend properly. I can't be sure without X-Rays. I've set the bone, but again, I need the pictures to be certain it will be okay."

"You can't take them to the hospital." Sgt. Wentz was barely understandable. "Fighting has been going on around there for two days. You can't get to it. And I don't want you try it."

Mr. Collins heard the Sgt. and got a concerned look on his face. He came closer to hear what was being said.

"That isn't very good news. Doc, can you take care of them here?"

"It sounds like I don't have much of a choice, does it? I'll do what I can, but the lack of facilities is going to be a problem." Darrell asked Sgt. Wentz. "Do you know how things are going in the rest of the country? Any chance we are going to be getting any help?"

"Not likely. The military is tied up on three coasts. East, west and the gulf coasts are all being invaded, not to mention invasion from Canada. Washington, New York, L.A. and a number of other cities are gone. We have to handle this on our own."

"Sgt. are you thinking of assuming command of this area?" Mr. Collins asked?

"For the time being, yes. Until they can get someone more qualified to take over." He answered.

"Sgt. you can't do that."

"Sir, I have the authority to do quite a bit under these conditions. I have a duty to perform."

"I repeat, you can't do that, and I'll tell you why. This is a military situation, not civil. While we may not have called it such, we have formed what amounts to a militia. Mr. Porter here has been elected Captain of that militia. You have no authority over this situation at all. He does."

"You can't be serious. I'm the legally recognized authority, not you. And I'm exercising that authority. I will be in command from here on out."

"No, you won't. These people elected HIM, not you, to be in command. The militia is recognized by the Constitution of this country in the Second Amendment. So he DOES have the authority. They will not follow your orders. They have and will obey his. You are over stepping the bounds here Sir. And I, for one, won't allow it."

Russell noticed that Mr. Collin's hand was drifting towards his stomach has he had been speaking. Now he saw that his thumb had started to hook under the sweater he wore, just above the bulge that was always there. He jumped into the argument.

"Hold on, GUNny. Let me talk to him. Sgt. Wentz. These people have trusted me. How can I just turn everything over to you, or the government? Especially since the government apparently didn't have any idea this attack was coming?"

"Surprise attacks happen. I'm sure they didn't know. But that doesn't matter. I'm the senior ranking person around here. I'm taking command. Get used to it."

"Sgt. you aren't doing anything of the sort. Like Mr. Collins said. I was elected by these people. They will follow me, not you."

"Once I explain my authority, they'll do what I say. They won't have any choice."

"No choice? There is always a choice. And these people have made theirs."

It looked as if the two men were about to square off and fight it out, when Darrell spoke.

"Sgt. Wentz." Doc Kelley interrupted. "I don't care who does what. BUT you aren't going to do anything if you are flat on your back. In case you haven't noticed, these aren't exactly sterile conditions, and you have open wounds. If you are going to take over, the first thing is you have to be able to do the job. I want to give you some antibiotics to fight infection. Let me see your arm, please."

Sgt. Wentz looked at him. "You've got to be kidding me. I don't have time for that. I've got a job to do."

"You're not going to do anything if you get an infection. Except maybe die. And I'm the medic who knows what you need. Now, Give me your arm."

Grudgingly he did so. Kelley gently slid the needle into his arm and injected him.

"Sgt. I think it would be a good idea for you to sit down."

"I can't do that. I have work to do."

"No. You don't. In about one minute, you are going to be out like a light for a couple of hours. I strongly suggest you sit down before you fall down. Either way, you are going to be out of it for a while."

Sgt. Wentz glanced at his arm, and then looked at him for a few moments. "Why, you son of a..." He collapsed into Kelley's arms.

"Okay. I was wrong. It was thirty seconds. Must have been more than I thought." He eased the Sgt. to the floor. "Cindy! I need some help in here. And bring a couple of big guys with you."

Soon Sgt. Wentz was laying on one of the makeshift beds Kelley had set up in his home, snoring.

"Alright Captain Porter, I've thrown in with you all the way, so you better be right."

"Thanks, Doc. I owe you one. A big one."

"Careful what you promise. I might hold you to it."

"You're welcome to."

"Captain. I think we need to talk." Mr. Collins said.

The two of them went outside.

"Captain, as you know we are short on weapons and ammo. Now last I heard, cop cars usually have some of both in the trunk. Maybe a bullet resistant vest or two as well. I think it might be a good idea to check the Sgt.s car for anything of use. It can't hurt to have a little more than we do now."

"I was thinking the same thing Gunny. But with one difference. I'd like you to check the car, I want to check on something else."

"If I might ask, what would that be?"

"Do you remember how I got hurt?"

Mr. Collins nodded.

"I knew Bruce for a while. He was pretty crafty to say the least. I'm wondering if something might have been missed when his house was searched."

"Could be, Sir. That's happened more than once."

"Alright. I think the keys are still in the ignition of that car. Good luck. We need everything we can get. I'll meet you back at my place in about an hour."

"Yes Sir."

The two men left to see to their different tasks.

Unknown to everyone in the neighborhood, while the fighting had been going on one man slipped over the wall and quickly hid himself. When the police vehicle crashed into the barricade and the attackers were being killed, he moved further into the area and once again hid. He knew that he only had to wait until dark. After that he could move through the neighborhood almost at will without being detected. That was when he would be able to get the guns he wanted and get out again. After all, these people weren't ready for someone like him. Once he got past their defensive wall, they would never expect someone to come at them from behind. Everthing was working his way. All he had to do was be patient.

He waited until it was fully dark before he began to move again. He looked for an easy target. Someone who wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. With them as both a hostage and shield, he would be able to get whatever he wanted. Crouched down in the shadows he saw his mark coming towards him. It was too easy. An old man in a wheelchair didn't stand a chance against someone like him. The old man came closer to him completely unaware that he was there. As he passed, the man jumped out of his hiding place, grabbing the old man around the chest and placing a knife against his throat.

"Not a sound old man. Make any noise and I'll kill you."

"Alright. I'll stay quiet. What do you want?"

"You people have guns. I want some. Where do you keep them?"

"Everyone who has one carries their own weapon. You have to take them from the owners."

He hadn't thought of that. He had assumed that at least some guns would be stored somewhere he could get at them. He didn't like that. Then he got an idea. His best chsnce would be to take guns from the people at one of the entrances and then run into the dark outside the wall.

"You come with me, and don't make a sound."

Together they headed for one of the entrances to the development. He pushed the old man ahead of him. When he felt he was close enough, he called out to the two men standing guard.

"Don't move or I'll kill this man."

The guards froze where they stood, not knowing what to do. Mr. Collins knew there were supposed to be three men. He kept silent on the matter and hoped he was nearby.

"Put the guns down and move away from them."

Lacking any idea of what to do, they complied with the demand. As they backed away the man pushed the chair over to the abandoned weapons.

"Son, right there is the exit. You leave now, and I promise you that you will be allowed to live. Just go now."

"Shut up old man. I'll do what I want. Screw with me and I'll kill you."

"Boy, don't you know that you don't get to my age by being scared easily?"

"Quiet. Or you die."

He pulled the knife away from Gunny Collins neck and started to head for the weapons. The old Marine knew that if he got his hands on even one of them people could be killed. Starting with the men on duty. He couldn't allow that to happen. As the intruder started to move, Gunny Collins threw himself out of his chair and tried to tackle him. The man struggled to get loose, but Gunny wasn't about to let that happen. He would not allow people to die on his watch. The man raised his knife and plunged it into Mr. Collins back, just at heart level. At the same time the third guard, who had been checking the area saw what was going on, raised his rifle in the dark and fired. The bullet slammed into the intruders head, killing him instantly.

The three men gathered around the body of Mr. Collins. They wondered if he knew that he had saved their lives.

[day late]

Gunny Collins was buried in his own yard the next day. His Grand daughter, Cindy, had a hard time on that day. Sandra and Mrs. Porter stayed at her side before, during and after the ceremony. As he was lowered into the ground, there wasn't a dry eye among any who were there, or those who were standing guard on the wall as they heard the song "Taps" played over a loud stereo that had been commandeered for the event. Even Sgt. Wentz stood at attention as he was laid to his final rest. Russell authorized a twenty one gun salute, despite the shortage of ammunition.

After he had been placed in his grave, Cindy knelt by it, and quietly cried. Mrs. Porter sat beside her and held her, as Sandra started to pray.

"Lord, we ask that You take this man into your kingdom. He has served others and You, all his life. That service cost him his life. Now accept him into Thy rest we pray. Amen."

Russell looked at her, but said nothing. Being not quite sure to whom she was praying. Sgt Wentz came to his side.

"Mr. Porter?"

"Yes, Sgt."

"I want to apologize for my behavior before. I should have known you and Mr. Collins were right. I'm sorry about losing him. He was a good man. Even if we didn't agree."

"So where does that leave us?"

"Mr. Porter, I need to get Peters to better help than he can get here. That means someone else has to be in charge. I'm deputizing you to take command of this area."

"I don't need to be deputized."

"I know. But this way I'm sure it's legal. Right now, I need a vehicle to get Peters to real medical help. I want to use your pick up to transport him."

"I can't give it to you. We need it." He thought quickly. "There is a station wagon that we can let you have."

"That'll do. Mr. Porter, I'm sorry we got off to a bad start, so to speak, in this thing. I can now see that you have things under control as well as anyone does these days. Better than in a lot of places. I shouldn't have interfered. I'll be taking Peters and leaving as soon as I can."

"I thought you said we can't get to the hospital." Russell was already thinking of getting help and medical supplies for his men.

"You can't. It is still under our control, but reaching it means running a gauntlet of looting rioters. They will stop you however they can, and take whatever you have. If you don't have anything, maybe they will let you go, maybe they will just kill you. Flip a coin, your odds are just as good either way. What we do have is a series of clinics that have been staffed and supplied by the hospital before they got stuck in this situation."

Russell's hopes diminished, but weren't extinguished. "Sgt. Wentz. What are the odds that our medical needs could be met by those clinics?"

"I couldn't say. I'll tell you this much. When we get back, I'll do what I can to see that you get what you need. If it wasn't for you people both Peters and I would be dead by now. I owe you."

"Well, I want to thank you now for any and all help you can send our way. Tell me, what about food? We are alright, right now. People still have whatever they had before this started. But soon we are going to run out. Any chance along those lines?"

"All I can promise is I'll do what I can."

"I guess I can't ask anymore than that."

They shook hands and together went to find the station wagon.

Things remained quiet for the next few days, as the rioting had begun to die out on it's on account. However Russell was quite busy during that time and a number of things were accomplished. Russell talked with the people guarding the wall. There was no telling where or when Gunny Collins killer had gotten inside. But he used the incident to impress on them the need for vigilance. He now understood why, during the attack, the people on one side of the entrance didn't come to help those who were being attacked on the other side. Mr. Collins had drilled into them the importance of staying at there posts.

"Be happy, and don't worry." He had told them. "Be happy it's not you being shot at. But don't worry, it will come to you sooner or later. Stay at your posts and keep an extra sharp watch. The attack you are hearing may just be a diversion. The main attack could come to your part of the wall. That's why you stay at your posts."

"What if the people being attacked need help?" Someone had asked.

"In that case, we are still going to need people all along the wall. Certain ones of you may be sent to the area needing help, but the rest of you stay at your posts. If it comes to it, we'll send every other available person to the area, but if you aren't sent, stay at your posts."

He didn't even try to find out where the man had come from. It was done and there was no reason to cause trouble over it now. Besides, as he talked to them privately they all said virtually the same thing.

"I don't think it happened where I was at, Sir. But even if it did, it won't happen again. Not while I'm on watch. You can be sure of that."

Russell realized that by his death, Gunny had shown them the importance of supporting one another. He had given his life to protect others. That set the standard, and nobody wanted to fall short. Someone had started a petition to change the name of the neighborhood. When he first heard of it, Russell thought it was rather silly to worry about something like that now. After reading it, he signed without a second thought. For better or for worse they all now lived in 'Collins Corner'.

Sgt. Wentz proved to be true to his word. He returned two days later with a truck load of food and of medical supplies for Doc Kelley, as well as a couple of nurses to help take some of the load off of Cindy, for which she was very grateful.

Russell and the Sgt sat on his front porch as the supplies were being unloaded, and the food stored in the home of Mr. Collins. It was now empty. Cindy had chosen to move out after her Grandfather had been killed. The memories were still much too sharp to allow her to remain there.

"Sgt. what is going on out there? We haven't heard a word since everything started."

Sgt. Wentz, with his nose bandaged was able to speak a little more clearly, since while his jaw had been fractured, it wasn't broken. A metal plate had been implanted to make sure the bone had a chance to heal without the fracture becoming a break.

"Captain, there is good news and bad news, both locally and nationally. This area is the quietest in town after what happened. Looks like you folks taught them a lesson. But even though things are improving over all, there are still areas that are in total chaos. But we are gaining the upper hand and hope to have it under control again soon. What was the name you people gave to this place again?"

"Collins Corner."

"I like it. Well, Collins Corner may soon get a little busier. I've heard talk about moving some of the local government officials out here to keep them safe."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. They think it's your duty."

"You better tell them that if they come here, they better bring their own homes with them, and a place to put the house. We don't have any spare room out here. Every house has someone living in it, except the Collins place. And I pity anyone trying to move in there without permission."

Wentz tried to smile, winced in pain and then continued. "I don't blame you. I'll make sure they know. But be ready. Some of those governmental types don't know how to take no for and answer."

"Then we'll make it Hell No. That should get their attention."

"I wouldn't worry about that just now, but keep it in mind. As far as the rest of the country is concerned, it's bad. The Russians have taken almost everything north of South Dakota, from the Great Lakes almost to the Rockies. They hold most of the east coast, and the Mexicans and Cubans hold all of the region around the Gulf of Mexico. Texas has been nearly split in half along with Arizona. The Chinese have taken everything west of the Rockies, but we are holding them there. They have to fight an uphill battle all the way, and it is costing them heavily. The Russians too for that matter. It seems there are a lot of people who didn't turn in their weapons when Washington made them illegal and now they are learning the truth of what Admiral Yamamoto said about invading America in WW II. They are finding a man with a gun behind almost every blade of grass."

"Is there ANYONE on our side?"

"Only the English and Israel. And as you can imagine, they both have their hands full as it is. Israel is the only one that is having any real success. When it all started, the Arab nations attacked them, and they used the Sampson Option."

"What's that?"

"They let it be known years ago that if it looked as if they would lose the war they would take out every Arab city of any real size. When we got hit, they pushed the button. There are now major parts of the middle east that glow in the dark."

"That, I'm not surprised at in the least. God will not have His land over run with muslims. Not now. He has other plans."

"Oh! So you're one of them."

"One of who?"

"One of those end times believing Christians. You really believe that Jesus is about to come back, don't you?"

"Don't you?" Russell was made a little uncomfortable by the statement.

"Captain, I don't care what you believe as long as you don't break the law. I've just never seen anything to make me believe there is anything after this life. So I try to make it the best one I can."

"Well if you ever change your mind and want to talk about it, I'm here."

"Don't hold your breath. There is one thing we need to talk about right now. It's possible that in the future you might need help in defending this place. But with the phones out we had to come up with another way for you to contact us. We don't have radios to spare, so what we have done is to use something from the past. In those supplies you are going to find a number of model rockets. They have been modified. Instead of a parachute to bring the rocket back down, they now have a small charge in them which will blow as the motor burns out. They also have a charge of phosphorous in the nose. They will act like flares which will go high enough to be seen. Touch off one of those, and we will send as much help as we can."

"Let's hope they never get used."

"I'll drink to that." Sgt. Wentz became quiet for a moment, then went on. "Captain, I know I said we seem to be gaining control of this situation. But I have to tell you that I have a bad feeling about that. Yeah, things are quieting down, but to me it feels like the calm before the storm. Things just aren't adding up the way I'd like them too. By that I mean there is less fighting going on, but with the number of people either arrested or shot, there just doesn't seem as many as were involved to begin with. Sure, some of them have given up and gone home, but the numbers don't add up for me. You people would be well advised to stay on your toes."

"Count on it."

Once the supplies had been unloaded and the vehicles pulled out, Russell returned home for what seemed like the first time in years. He was tired, dirty, and looking forward to getting clean and then to sleep for a couple of days, or until he was needed again, whichever came first.

"You look beat." Sandra said as he headed for his bed room. "Anything I can do to help you?"

"Not really. I just want to get cleaned up and get some rest. Where's Mom? Do you know?"

"She's with Cindy Collins. The two of them didn't want anything being broken when the food and other stuff was being put in Mr. Collins house. I guess they are still sorting it all out."

"Okay, thanks. I'm heading out back for a shower. Let me know if anyone comes looking for me, will you."

"Certainly."

When the power first started to become unreliable Russell had put a solar shower in the back yard with a screen going around it. He used the sun warmed water sparingly since there were three of them, and considered how to best increase the size of the reservoir. Soon he was sound asleep in bed for the first time in days. Four hours later he was Awakened.

"Russell?"

"What? Oh, hi Mom. What time is it?"

"About five. Are you rested now?"

"Yes. I feel better than I have in days. Did anything happen while I was out?"

"Nothing serious."

"What do you mean?"

"Sandra." She chuckled. "Son I think that girl is really falling for you. She wouldn't let even me disturb you for anything less than a full scale attack. She really cares for you, you know."

"I've grown kind of fond of her myself. To bad there isn't anything I can do about it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You should know Mom. The Bible says that Christians aren't supposed to marry or have romantic relationships with unbelievers. She's Jewish."

She looked at him for a moment. "Russell, you really should pay more attention to what is happening in your own home. I know you've been busy with everything, but Sandra gave herself to The Lord several days ago."

Russell had gotten out of bed and was putting on his pants as she told him. He looked at her, and knew she was telling him the truth. He finished getting dressed and went out to the living room.

"Sandra." He called. Then he heard the back door close. She walked in, wrapped in a towel, with another around her head.

"Did you call me? I just got out of the shower. You know Russell, we should really find a way to have more water in that thing. It's hard to get completely clean before it runs out."

"I'm working on it. Listen, first I want to thank you for letting me get some sleep. But second, is it true? Mom tells me you became a Christian."

"Yes I did. About ten days ago." She was smiling at him. "Why?"

"Just this." He walked over to her, and pulling her close to him, kissed her. With a hand on one towel to keep herself covered, and the other holding the one on her hair, there was nothing she could do to stop him. But then, she didn't want to stop him. When he let her go, the surprise she felt was plain on her face. Seeing it, he told her the truth.

"Sandra, I've wanted to do that for the longest time, but I was involved once before with a non-Christian woman. I didn't want to go through that a second time. If I've offended you, I apologize. But I'm actually in Bruce's debt for this. That is if you are interested."

She looked into his eyes. "Russell, you could have had more than that, a long time ago. But I respect you for not doing anything. To tell the truth, That was the beginning of me becoming interested in Christianity. So, yes I'm interested."

[day late]

Over the next couple of days, there were a few more attacks in that part of town. Only one was at Collins Corner. It was easily turned back with no loss of life, and only one serious injury. One of the defenders stepped back to duck down and reload. When he did, he stepped off the platform he was standing on. In an attempt to break his fall, he put his arm in the wrong position and broke it instead. Attacks on other neighborhoods were more successful. One was looted and nearly burned to the ground. Another was still standing, but the local population was reduced by a little over fifty percent. Not all of them were killed. Most simply fled as the rioters approached, and never returned. Almost every house was stripped of anything of value.

The one problem he had the worst time with was when the attacks were happening to nearby neighborhoods. Some of the people who lived in them ran to Collins Corner for safety and protection. Russell wouldn't turn them away while the fighting was going on, as soon as he was sure it was over, they were told they had to leave. Only a few of them understood and left to first return to what might be left of their homes. Only to gather what they could of what remained and leave for parts unknown. Most wanted to argue and demand protection. He didn't allow that to happen.

"Look, I'm sorry. But you can't stay here. We barely can take care of ourselves. And we certainly can't put you up anywhere. You'll have no place to sleep, nothing to eat and then you might end up taking what we have from us. Then what happens? We start killing each other for whatever is left. Isn't that what is happening out there? You will bring with you the very thing you're trying to get away from. I can't let you do that to us. You have to leave."

In the end most left peacefully, and only a hand full had to be forced out.

Russell was beginning to think that Sgt. Wentz had been correct. It didn't feel right. When they had been attacked, the fight didn't make sense. First they were hit on one side of the area, then as the attackers pulled back, another area was hit. But it seemed to him they weren't attacks intended to get through, but more to test the defenses of Collins Corner. It was after this that Cindy had told him of certain books that her Grandfather had kept in the house. They were military manuals.

"Why would he keep these around if he was no longer on active duty?" He asked when she showed them to him.

"Pop-pop didn't believe in burning books, and he said that was the only safe way to get rid of them. If he just threw them away someone that he didn't want to have them might get their hands on them. He said that it would make him responsible for whatever happened after that."

"Pop-pop?"

She smiled for the first time since the funeral. "I called him that since I was a baby. It just stuck with me over the years."

Russell borrowed the books with a promise to return them undamaged and as quickly as possible.

"Mr. Porter, don't bother. I'll never read them, and I'm sure that Pop-pop would want you to have them if they can help you."

Russell virtually locked himself away for two days as he studied the books. They were on different military subjects. There was one on leadership. Another on patrolling. But the one that really got his attention was the one on tactics. That was when he became convinced that he and Sgt. Wentz were right. What they had experienced were probing attacks. They were not meant to be successful, but rather to test an enemy position to find out where they were strongest, and weakest. It gave him an idea of how to handle the situation. One of the suggestions was to send out patrols to disrupt the enemies plans. He dismissed that right away. He simply didn't have the manpower to risk that. Instead he did something that was referenced by someone called Sun Tzu.

He had said when you are weak, pretend to be strong. He knew he couldn't put every available person on the wall to make them look stronger than they were. That would leave nothing in reserve, and before long everyone would be too tired to do the job properly. Instead he weakened the total wall defenses by one third. These people were kept in a state of readiness to respond to any attack no matter where it came from. But even then only half of them would be used at any one time. That way if there were two attacks at the same time he could send the rest of them to the site of the second attack. That would give the appearance of him having far more people in reserve than he actually did. He hoped it would be enough. He also took Gunny Collins advice to heart. He never even showed his mother or Sandra his doubts and fears.

It was getting close to sun down when the attack came. There were more people trying to get to them than he had seen doing so before. This time, instead of trying to cross the four lane roads on either side of Collins Corner, as had been done before, they came from the developments to either side, taking advantage of cover provided by the abandoned homes as they drew closer to them. The first attack came from the northern side of the community. The guards on watch sounded the alarm, and the walls were manned by the defenders.

They knew at once that this fight would be more serious than any that had happened before, by the sheer volume of fire coming at them. This time to try to shoot over the wall would have meant suicide. However during the time between attacks before this, small holes had been cut into the walls and were now used as firing ports. While the amount of area one man could cover was reduced, the risk to his life was likewise reduced. That, in addition to the number of firing ports, spelled bad news for the attackers. They could get only as close to the wall as the closest row of houses, but to try to cross the small two lane road between the developments meant certain death.

The problem for Russell was there were so many of them. He prayed as he moved from one end of the wall to the other, and an idea came to him. When one of his men pulled back from the port to reload it gave the enemy a chance to advance. So, he called in some of his reserves and gave them their orders.

"We need constant fire coming from the ports. Each of you get beside someone who's already firing. When he starts to reload, you take his place and pour it on. I don't want any slacking off of the fire we are putting out. Just trade places back and forth as you have to reload. Go!"

It didn't take long for the enemy to realize the volume of fire had increased. They only lost five men finding it out. With no other choice, they took whatever cover they could find, mostly in the empty homes, and continued to shoot at them. At that time, Russell noticed that firing had started from the south side of the area. He shouted encouragement to the men, placed another man in charge of keeping it up, and ran to the south.

Here too, large numbers of people were coming at them. On the south side however, the enemy had done much of Russell's work for him. This was the area that had burned. Most of the houses on this side were no longer standing. That meant that while the debris did provide cover, it was only good if they crawled through it. That slowed the rate of the advance. Russell resisted the idea of bringing up his remaining reserves, and took his place along with the other men. He ordered the men closest to him on each side to move away from him. He knew that as soon as the AK-47 opened up, he would become a target of extreme interest to the enemy, and much of their fire would be directed at him. He didn't want anyone else to take the additional risk of being too close to him.

It took nearly twenty minutes before they decided that trying to get to Russell through the small hole was just too difficult, and began to withdraw. As the incoming fire began to drop off, Russell felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Sir. The enemy isn't backing off on the north side. I think they have gotten more men from somewhere. They are shooting more now than when they started."

"I'm on my way."

He told the men he had pushed away to resume their positions and ran back to the northern wall. The report was right. There was a noticeable increase in the rate of fire coming from the houses on that side. With fighting still going on to the south, he didn't want to commit anyone more to the northern wall. Again he made a very brief, but intensely heartfelt prayer. The answer came at once. He grabbed the nearest man and shouted to be heard.

"Go to the Collins place. Bring back a half dozen of the signal rockets and launchers."

The man left at once, and returned almost before he had left, it seemed to Russell. He placed the rockets on the ground and began to set up one of the launching platforms that came with them.

"Don't do that." Russell commanded. "Bring them over to the wall."

"Sir?"

"Do it."

In moments they had the rockets set up and ready to fire. Not upwards, but towards the houses where the gun fire was coming from. On his command, four of the rockets were fired. They streaked across the road and into the windows of their targets. Once there, the miniature warheads on the rockets exploded, sending white hot phosphorous in all directions. Many of the enemy were burned, and most of them ran out of the houses that were starting to catch fire. They were cut down en mass by Russell's men. That proved to be too much for them. The attack was broken off and they pulled back, firing as they went. Soon there was silence.

"Is anyone hit?" He called out to the men. And was rewarded with only three being injured, and none of them seriously.

"Ammo check. Everyone, check your ammo. Restock like always. Every other man until you all have what you need."

In the quietness, Russell decided to take a chance and he peeked over the wall. The four houses that had been hit with the rockets were rapidly becoming infernos. It seemed that everywhere he looked there were bodies, and the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Some of them were still moving. They were trying to crawl away from the area. One man staggered to his feet and started to limp away as best as he could. There was a shot, and he went down again. Never to rise.

"Who fired that shot?"

"I did, Sir." A man ten yards away held up his rifle.

Russell stormed down the line to him. He was smiling.

"Good shot, wasn't it Sir?"

Russell snatched the weapon out of his hands, and demanded,

"What do you think you are doing?"

Puzzled by the question he answered. "Killing the enemy, Sir."

"You shot him in the back. He was trying to leave."

"Sir. He was trying to kill us just a couple of minutes ago."

"They were beaten and pulling out. He was wounded. You don't do that."

"Sir, he would have come back later. Probably with more of his friends. I just saved someone here by doing him before he could do it to one of us."

Russell backed away from him and shouted for all present to hear.

"Everyone! Listen to me. From this point on, unless they are trying to hurt one of us, you will not shoot any who are wounded, giving up or trying to leave. I know the temptation is great. But when we start acting like them, we become them. We will be no better. This will not happen again. Not while I am in command. Am I understood?"

A disbelieving 'Yes Sir' was given by all there.

"Good. Spread the word to those who haven't heard."

He threw the rifle back to the man he had taken it from, and walked away. It was later that evening as he sat next to Sandra that anyone asked about it.

"Russell, do you think it was a good idea to keep our people from shooting the ones who are attacking us? After all, I'm sure they wouldn't be so understanding."

"I'm sure you're right about them. But that is what makes us different. It makes us better. God gave us the right to self defense, up to and including the use of lethal force. But shooting a man in the back when he is trying to run away isn't self defense. It's murder. I will not and can not approve of that. Even if someone is full of bullet holes, if he tries to shoot you, then killing him is justified in God's eyes. But what happened today is inexcusable."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"This time, nothing. what can I do? It was my fault. I never told anyone anything about this kind of thing. I wasn't expecting it to happen. I'm the one who will have to answer for it when I stand in front of The Lord. But after this, well I'll have to figure out something and make it stick."

"I hope The Lord guides you in your choice of what to do."

"That makes two of us."

The next morning Russell gathered every available person to explain the new rules that he had worked out. Nobody who was running away, or trying to give up was to be killed. Since there was no place to hold prisoners, they had to be turned away. True they might come back later, but unless someone was willing to give up their home to be used as a prison they had no choice. Take no prisoners didn't mean kill them. They were to be released after their weapons were taken from them. Many of the people didn't like what he had to say, but most of them agreed that there really wasn't anything else to do. The ones who didn't agree were quickly shouted down by the rest of them. It was a close thing. Russell used every power of persuasion that he had to convince as many as possible. But it was later in the afternoon that the real trouble came. Sgt. Wentz returned. With him were Mayor Perez and most of the government officials of both the city and county. They wanted protection too.

[day late]

The vehicles carrying the mayor and other government officials were led into the area by Sgt. Wentz, who was returning the station wagon he had borrowed to take Officer Peters to a place that could offer better medical assistance. They were stopped by the guards at the entrance. Sgt. Wentz got out of the car and called to the guards.

"We're here to see Captain Porter. Would you send for him?"

Russell was sent for, and Mayor Perez got out of his car to speak with the Sgt.

"What's the hold up Sgt.? Why are we out here on the street, when we should be inside these walls?"

"They are." He answered simply and gestured towards the armed men in the entrance way.

"Tell them to get out of the way, and let us in. We shouldn't be kept waiting in the street like this. There's no telling what might happen out here."

"Sir, it wouldn't be a good idea to throw your weight around. It won't do you any good here."

"I'm the Mayor. These people are important city and county officials. These other people have no right to stop us from going where ever we want."

"You're going to have a hard time convincing them of that, Mr. Mayor."

"What makes you believe that?"

"That." He pointed at the wall. The Mayor looked at the outside of the wall for the first time. He saw that it was pock marked with bullet holes. The Sgt. went on. "These people are the reason you want to come here. And you want to come here BECAUSE they haven't obeyed the law and turned in their weapons in the first place. I don't think they will tolerate anyone telling them what to do. Not even you."

"We'll see about that." He answered in a huff. "They will do as I say, or else."

"Or else what?" Russell asked as he came within earshot of the two. He had been called from Mr. Collins home where he had been listening to the powerful shortwave radio.

"Mr. Porter. It's good to see you again. I brought your car back. I'm sorry it took so long."

"Don't worry about it Sgt. How is Officer Peters doing?"

He shook hands with Russell when he got close enough."It's going to be awhile before he is up and around again. But he will survive, thanks to you. I want to thank you again for the use of the vehicle."

"Our pleasure. So who do we have here?" He indicated Mayor Perez.

"I'm Mayor Perez. And you are?"

"Russell Porter. What is this all about? It looks like you've got a couple dozen people here."

"Mr. Porter. These are some of the most important officials in the city and county. And our families. We need you to remove this road block you have here, so we can enter this area."

"Why do you want to come here? Are you looking for votes?"

"No, Mr. Porter. We need a place to stay and re-establish the civil government. The down town area is a war zone. This area is the safest place to be, I'm told. We will need several houses and a place to set up operations."

At this point, Russell was glad that Sgt. Wentz had given him a warning ahead of time of what might happen. Russell was having a hard time believing the sheer arrogance of the man. How could someone who was in a position like his act like this?

"That's not going to happen, Mr. Mayor."

"What do you mean? Of course it's going to happen. It is your civic duty to help us."

"Civic duty? You mean like it is your civic duty to protect us? We haven't seen a whole lot of that kind of thing lately. As a matter of fact, the last time any of us even saw a law enforcement officer we had to save the two of them from the people that were chasing them. Isn't that right, Sgt.?"

"So it would seem."

"I TOLD you. It is your duty to help us. Now move that road block or I'm going to have it removed."

"Oh really? And how are you going to do that? Better still, maybe you should answer my first question. Where is the protection that the government is supposed to provide for us?"

"Surely even you understand this is an extreme situation. It couldn't have been foreseen. We are doing the best we can, and now you are trying to hinder us. I won't stand for that sort of thing. We must have some place safe to do our jobs. Now clear the way."

"Mayor, maybe if you had done your job in the first place we wouldn't be in this fix." He answered. "Now, you listen to me. Every home in this neighborhood has someone living in it. I will not allow you to just throw these people out into the street for your sake. Or for the sake of those with you. There are no empty buildings to use as a makeshift city hall, and we aren't going to accommodate you by putting more of our friends in the street. So you had better just take your little convoy here and move on down the road. We are fighting for our very survival, and I will not let you endanger one single person so that you can be safe and maybe try to make points for the next election. If there is one."

"You can't talk to me that way."

"I just did. Now, move on."

Russell turned and started to walk back the way he came. He noticed that the people in the entrance and more than a few on the wall who had heard him, were smiling.

"Sgt. Arrest that man."

Before the Sgt. could move, the sound of weapons being prepared for firing came from everywhere around them. Sgt. Wentz looked around and then spoke.

"Sir, I don't think that would be wise to even attempt. For your own sake, you better back off and we'll find another place for you."

"Are you a coward? I said ARREST THAT MAN!"

"Mr. Mayor, take a look around you. Most of those people aren't pointing those weapons at me. They are aiming at YOU. If I even look like I'm trying to take a step in that direction, we will both be dead before I can finish taking that step. You need to back off and get in the car. NOW."

"They wouldn't dare."

"Are you blind, as well as stupid? Did you look at that wall? They WILL kill you, in a heartbeat. They have already killed who knows how many people defending themselves. If you don't believe me, then YOU arrest him. As mayor you have the authority."

With that Sgt. Wentz walked back towards the convoy. Mayor Perez watched him go. His face was red with fury. He started towards Russell, who had stopped just outside the barricade. Russell shouted to the people guarding the neighborhood.

"Don't kill him, but let him know the Sgt. was right."

Multiple weapons fired at almost the same instant. The ground just in front of his feet suddenly developed a hole from the impact of so many bullets hitting in the same spot. He jumped back, breathing heavily.

"You'll pay for this. You'll all pay for it. You can't treat an elected official this way. You can't treat ME this way. You'll pay, you can count on it." He screamed at them and then he mustered as much dignity as he could and walked quickly back to the vehicles. As he did, Russell called out.

"Sgt. Wentz. May I have a word with you?"

The Sgt. walked over to him and Russell asked a question.

"Sgt. Have you heard anything more than we have about the war?"

"You heard something? That's more than we have. Without power none of our radios are working except the short range hand helds. What's the word? Good news, I hope."

"We have a generator and a shortwave set up, thanks to Mr. Collins. But I'm afraid the news isn't good. The Russians are making advances all along the line. They are paying a heavy price, but they aren't being stopped or pushed back anywhere, except in the Dakotas. From what I can gather they have North Dakota, and we still hold South Dakota. But there are a couple of things that are more important that I wanted to tell you. The Cubans and Mexicans are starting to come up the Mississippi River. They are also getting a foothold on both sides of the river. BUT the Russians should be your main concern, according to our best information are roughly one hundred fifty miles or so from here. I'm surprised we haven't heard their guns by now. And they are headed this way."

"So? Well, what are you going to do when they get here? You can't stand off the entire Russian Army."

"You're right, and we are having a meeting about that tonight. Most of these people have family somewhere else in the country, I imagine they will want to leave here and join them. The rest of us? Well, I don't know. That is something we have to figure out."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I feel I owe you, all things considered. I don't want you to act on bad information and possibly get stuck here. Especially with someone like him." He pointed the the Mayors direction. "I thought you should know. Besides, you may not be a believer in Jesus, but warning you is the Christian thing to do."

"I appreciate it. Thank you."

They shook hands, and Sgt. Wentz turned back to the convoy without a further word.

"What did he say to you?" Perez wanted to know.

"Just shut up and get in the car." Was the only answer he received.


The bonfire was started early that night. To nobodies surprise the gathering was well attended. Parents watched their children as they played near the fire. They all knew what was going on. Most had already made their plans, but some were at a loss about what to do. At the beginning of the gathering, some were checking to see if anyone they knew was going to be in the same area as themselves, or at least traveling in the same direction. Given the violence of recent days, moving together in well defended groups only seemed wise. Everyone not headed in the same direction took the time to make sad farewells to the friends and neighbors they had known for years. Darrell Kelley got close to the fire and called for every ones attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please." They quieted and turned to listen. "I don't think that I have to try too hard to convince anyone here that if it weren't for Russell we would all have been in real trouble weeks ago."

"Or dead." Someone shouted.

"That's true as well. Now, I know we all have or are making plans for where we are going to go from here. From the people I've spoken with, it sounds like we are scattering to the four winds. So before that happens, I think we should all give our thanks to Russell for being here and leading us during these times. We might not be able to do much else, but at least we can do that."

A round of loud applause broke out and could be heard all throughout Collins Corner. For his part, Russell looked embarrassed and hesitantly stepped forward.

"Thank you. Thank you all. But I think we should remember that I didn't do this alone. All of you had a hand in it. I only did what I believed that The Lord wanted me to do. You had to make the choice to follow. And I know that it wasn't always an easy thing to do. We have been truely blessed by God, in that we have done as well as we have. However, I would like to ask you all to join me in a prayer for one man who isn't here tonight. He isn't here because he chose to sacrifice himself for the benefit of the rest of us. Please, bow your heads."

They all knew who he was talking about. Parents called their children to their sides to keep them quiet, and while most simply bowed their heads, there were more than a few who went to their knees. As Russell began to pray, his Mother and Sandra stood at his side.

"Father, we thank you for watching over us in these troubled times. We know that this is just the beginning of what is to come. So we ask that now as we are forced to leave this place that You continue to watch over us, and use us to Your greater glory, as you see fit. Lord, we lift up to You our beloved and greatly missed brother and friend, Mr. Collins. He served You well, throughout his life. He gave his life that we might have a chance to continue to live ours. We ask only that You give to that old soldier the well earned rest that he so justly deserves. And we thank you for the gift of knowing him. We are all better for it. This we pray, in Jesus' name. Amen."

There was an 'Amen' that went through the crowd, and people began to drift away from the fire. Further goodbye's were not necessary, and too painful to make. Darrell came over to Russell, with Cindy beside him.

"So, where are you guys going?" He asked.

"I'm not sure yet. We have some ideas, but nothing firm. What about you?"

"I have family in western Kentucky. I'm headed out there. How about you, Cindy?"

"I'm staying here."

They both looked at her. "WHAT! You can't be serious. If you stay here you'll die, or worse." Darrell said.

"I have nowhere else to go. Besides, Pop-pop is still here. I'll stay with him." She glanced at the looks on the men's faces, and went on. "I know, I know. He's gone. But I just don't know what else to do."

"Come with me." Darrell told her.

"I can't."

"Alright. Then, I'm staying too."

"Darrell, you can't do that. People need you."

"And I need you, Cindy. If you don't go, neither do I. I know I haven't said it, but I love you."

She looked him in the eye. "What about your family?"

"They will just have to learn to love you too. Just like I do."

Smiling, she answered him. "Alright. I'll go with you. You see, I love you as well."

"Well, I'm glad that is settled. How about you guys, Russell? Want to come along? I know my family will appreciate a man who is good in a fight. And they are all Christians. Come with us. Will you?"

He looked at his mother and Sandra. Then he said, "We'll have to pray about it. Can we give you an answer in the morning?"

"Sure thing."

[day late]

Russell, his mother and Sandra went home for what they believed to be the last time. After they entered the house Russell spoke to them.

"Well ladies, what do you say? Do we go with Darrell, or strike out on our own?"

"I don't know about the two of you. But my parents died in the food riots in New York. One of my brothers is in the Israeli Defense Force, and the other is working in Jerusalem, the last I heard. I haven't anywhere else to go. So I guess where you lead, I'll follow."

"What about you, Mom? What do you think?"

"Son, we can't stay here, that is for certain. So, where do we go? I can't think of a better offer that we've had recently. It seems to me that The Lord has already provided for us. We just have to accept it."

"Maybe you're right, Mom. Right now, all I can think of is that I have to be on the wall at about four o'clock. I guess I need to pray about it, and get some sleep before I go on watch. Good night Ladies."

Russell turned and went to his bedroom. Sandra and Mrs. Porter sat and continued to talk.

"You know, Mrs. Porter it may sound a little strange, considering I really haven't been here very long but I'm going to miss this house." Sandra told her.

"Sandra, I have already started to think of you as the daughter I never had. Why don't you just call me Mom?"

She smiled. "You don't mind?"

"If I did, I wouldn't ask you to do it. Actually I should ask if you mind."

"I'd be honored. So what do you think is going to happen when we get to Kentucky?"

"I really don't know. With the country at war at least we shouldn't have a problem getting there."

"I hope you're right. With martial law in effect we could get in some serious trouble."

"I don't think so. Can you imagine how many refugees there are on the road right now trying to get away from the fighting? We'll just be a few more. My main concern is what will we do to make a living when we do get there. We'll have to find something useful. After all, we can't expect to get by on charity."

"I can think of one thing to do right now, Mom. I think we need to pray."

Now it was Mrs. Porter's turn to smile. "That is already part of the plan."


As his last shift as the commander of Collins Corner was coming to an end, Russell had people come to him and thank him one final time for all he had done. As he thought, most of them were headed to where ever their families were living. Some few were just getting away from the fighting long enough to figure out what to do. Many of the fathers and husbands wanted to keep their loved ones safe and then they would enlist to fight. While others didn't know what they would do. Before long, packed vehicles started to pull out. Once it was full daylight, Russell pulled the guards off the wall, and sent them on their way, with his thanks.

During the day before, what food supplies were left were divided among everyone. Russell had also given most of his gas to people who had very little or none. Darrell had taken the remaining medical supplies that weren't needed by the injured. By the time he returned home, the ladies had gotten the car filled with all they could get in it, and still have room for themselves. They had even tied the gas cans they had left to the roof.

"Are you two sure you even need me? Looks like you packed everything except the kitchen sink." He joked.

"That shows what you know. Mom packed a large bucket in the trunk, just for that purpose." Sandra told him.

"Mom?"

"That's right, Son. I put it in there."

"I meant Sandra calling you that."

"I meant both."

"Okay. Well, besides getting together with Darrell and Cindy, it looks like the only thing left to do is pray."

"Mom and I have been doing that already."

"One more can't hurt. Come on." The women joined him, and holding hands they bowed their heads as he began.

"Heavenly Father, You know we are being driven from our home. We have become refugees in our own land. But then again, in a way we always have been, since our real home is with You in Heaven. Lord we don't know what will happen. We can't even make a guess. But You know, Lord. And so we ask for Your protection and guidance. Bring us to a place of safety, we pray. But most importantly, keep us Thy will. From that path, never let us stray. Amen."

A little before nine o'clock Darrell pulled up in front of the Porter house. Cindy was sitting beside him in the car. Russell waved to them and shouted.

"You know where we are going, so I'll follow you."

Darrell waved back and slowly pulled away, waiting for the Porters to back down the driveway and begin to follow. Russell looked around as they headed to the entrance. His mind went back over the things that had happened in such a short period of time. He thought of buying Sandra's contract, and then burning it. The sad end of Bruce. Sgt. Wentz. The rioting and food shortages came to mind again. And, of course, Mr. Collins. Now here they were, leaving this place for the last time. He glanced around and saw that most of the homes already stood empty. There was almost no one on the street, and those who were, were finishing up their packing before they too left for good.

Well, at least they had put up a good fight. He smiled to himself. Mayor Perez would be the first one to admit that much. Still, like his mother and Sandra he was overcome by a feeling of sadness. When he bought the house it was going to be the forever after place for Rebbecca and himself. It seemed a shame the way things turned out. Still he took comfort in the fact that somehow through all of this, The Lord had looked out for them, and not only brought Sandra to him, but to Himself as well. He reached over and took her hand.

"Here we go. On to the next adventure." He said to her.

She smiled back at him. "And we face it together. All three of us. When you think about it, The Lord has been very good to us."

"Amen to that." Mrs. Porter chimed in from the back seat.

They continued to move down the road headed out of town. Darrell pulled onto the major road leading away from town, figuring that it would be the fastest route. They found the one thing that none of them had even considered. A road block of police vehicles, complete with heavily armed officers, wearing ski masks. Not knowing what else to do, he slowed to a stop right in front of them. One of the officers walked to his window and demanded,

"Where do you think you're going?"

"We're getting out of town before the Russians get here."

"No you're not. You can't tell me you are unaware of the martial law edict. Unless you have a pass, you stay where you are. We can't have the roads clogged up with refugees. The military needs them . Turn this thing around and go back home. Are those people with you?" He asked pointing at the Porter's car.

"Yes. We are traveling together."

"Don't hear very well, do you? I told you, you aren't going anywhere, except back to where you came from."

"What is this? Do you want us to die? When the Russian Army gets here we won't stand a chance. You've got to let us leave."

"No pass, no exit. Do you have a pass?"

"No, but the man driving the car behind me does."

The faceless guard turned and called out to one of the other men.

"They say they have a pass."

At this one of the other officers came over.

"Where?" Was all he said.

"The second car."

The man walked back to Russell.

"Pass?"

"Sure. It's right here."

He took the pass he had used to get back and forth to work from the sun visor and handed it over.

The officer looked it over and handed it back. "Thanks." He walked back to the first officer and spoke to him.

"Let them through."

"I thought we weren't supposed to let anyone leave."

"Pass them on my authority."

"Alright." He turned back to Darrell. "You heard the man. Move along."

Darrell moved slowly forward though the road block and as soon as Russell had cleared the road block he speeded up. Soon they were out of town, and out of sight of the officers. The two of them talked between themselves.

"I don't get it. Why did you let them go? You know the orders from Director Claire's office. Nobody is supposed to leave, pass or not. Aren't you in enough trouble already?"

"I owed them one." Sgt. Wentz pulled off his hood. "Besides it's the Christian thing to do."

"But you're not a Christian."

"I know."

"So why did you do it, and risk getting in more trouble? Perez isn't going to love you if he finds out, you know."

"You had to be there." The Sgt. put his hood back on. "Anyway, who's going to tell him? You? Let's get back to work. There's more cars coming."


The cars continued on for a few miles, before Darrell pulled off the main road, and onto a little used back road. Once they were out of sight from the high way, he pulled over to speak to Russell.

"I didn't think they were going to let us go there for a few minutes. I guess The Lord was watching out for us." He paused to wipe the nervous sweat from his face. "I want to stay off the main roads after that. It will take longer to get where we are going, but hopefully we won't hit any more road blocks that way."

"I agree. No sense in trying The Lord's patience."

"So you think He did have a hand in that?"

"Believe it. Before everything was shut down I used that pass to get to work, and home again. I had to renew it once a month. That thing expired a couple of months ago. There wasn't any way that guy could have missed it."

"Well, let's not try His patience by standing here talking about it. I'll take it slow, so I don't lose you, but we should get back on the road now."

"Yeah, I guess we'd better. How long do you think it will take us to get there?"

"I used to make it in about three or four hours, depending on traffic. So, on these back roads, I would think you could double that."

"Then we had better get moving. If I need you to stop, for a bath room break or something I'll flash my lights at you. Alright?"

"Sure thing."

The men went back to their cars and continued westward. Russell couldn't help but notice that it was a beautiful day for a drive in the county. There didn't appear to be a cloud in the sky. Which made him wonder when he heard what sounded like thunder coming from behind them.

When Sgt. Wentz had reported to Mayor Perez about the information he had gotten from Russell and the shortwave radio it had come from, he was both happy, and angry. He was very happy to find out there was a means to keep him better informed of the situation. He was angered by the way Sgt. Wentz had spoken to him the day before, and had him transferred to the road block detail so he would have time to think about the rashness of his actions. By the time he arrived at Collins Corner, everyone was gone. That suited him. He wasn't a stupid man, and knew enough to look for a house with a very tall antenna. He found it almost at once. He also found the generator used to power the radio. He had his aide start it, and turned on the radio. He saw the rig could transmit as well as receive. He picked up the mike and pushed the talk button.

"Hello? Is there any one on this frequency? Come in, please." He waited for a moment and repeated the question with no answer. He continued to try to raise someone.

The Russian pilot didn't recognize the transmission he picked up as a military one. Still, he had his orders. The Americans were not to be allowed any kind of communications. He locked on to the source and fired a missile. Moments later the Collins home was no more.

[day late]

The trip to western Kentucky seemed to be going pretty smoothly to Russell. The weather was fine and the road was clear, even if it was a bit narrow and winding. They continued on for a while, avoiding any town that was even close to where they had come from on the assumption that they too would have road blocks similar to the one they had been passed though. And they didn't want to chance not being able to get through a second time.

They did encounter a different sort of road block twice during the trip. These were outside smaller communities. These places that were too small to even be called towns. So small in fact that the local law enforcement came from the county sheriff's office. Most of them lived in the areas they were blocking off. They had no intention of trying to arrest or otherwise detain the seemingly endless stream of refugees that came their way. They simply wanted to protect their own homes, and refused to allow any vehicle to travel through the area. They didn't care where you were going, you just had to go another way to get there. This became clear at the first one they ran into. They slowed to a stop and an officer came up to Darrell who was still in the lead.

"Afternoon, Sir. Do you live around here?"

"No. I'm trying to get further west."

"Then you can't come through here. You need to turn around and go somewhere else."

"We don't want to stop. Just to pass through."

"Go around. You can't come through here." He paused for a moment. "Tell you what, you seem okay, so I'll tell you that if you go back about two or three miles there is a way to cut around town. You can still head west from there. Just don't try to come into town, for your own sake."

The officers were polite, but quite firm. And they weren't interested in any arguments. If you didn't live there, you had no business there. Move on, and be glad you weren't being taken into custody.

It was also during the trip that Sandra decided to expand her knowledge of Christianity and The Bible.

"Mom? Could you tell me a little more about why you believe America is under judgment and why you think it's Biblical?"

"I guess the best answer to that is in Rev. 18. There is a long passage about what is termed 'Babylon the Great' and how the stench of it's sins have reached the very nose of God. And He isn't happy about it. For example it says;

Rev 18:5 For her sins have reached unto heaven, and God hath remembered her iniquities.

Rev 18:6 Reward her even as she rewarded you, and double unto her double according to her works: in the cup which she hath filled fill to her double.

Rev 18:7 How much she hath glorified herself, and lived deliciously, so much torment and sorrow give her: for she saith in her heart, I sit a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow.

Rev 18:8 Therefore shall her plagues come in one day, death, and mourning, and famine; and she shall be utterly burned with fire: for strong [is] the Lord God who judgeth her.

Now that doesn't prove Babylon the Great is America, but the book also talks about other things that pretty well confirm it I think. Such as;

Rev 18:9 ¶ And the kings of the earth, who have committed fornication and lived deliciously with her, shall bewail her, and lament for her, when they shall see the smoke of her burning,

Rev 18:10 Standing afar off for the fear of her torment, saying, Alas, alas, that great city Babylon, that mighty city! for in one hour is thy judgment come.

Rev 18:11 And the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her; for no man buyeth their merchandise any more:

Rev 18:12 The merchandise of gold, and silver, and precious stones, and of pearls, and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all thyine wood, and all manner vessels of ivory, and all manner vessels of most precious wood, and of brass, and iron, and marble,

Rev 18:13 And cinnamon, and odours, and ointments, and frankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour, and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and souls of men.

Rev 18:14 And the fruits that thy soul lusted after are departed from thee, and all things which were dainty and goodly are departed from thee, and thou shalt find them no more at all.

Rev 18:15 The merchants of these things, which were made rich by her, shall stand afar off for the fear of her torment, weeping and wailing,

Rev 18:16 And saying, Alas, alas, that great city, that was clothed in fine linen, and purple, and scarlet, and decked with gold, and precious stones, and pearls!

Rev 18:17 For in one hour so great riches is come to nought. And every shipmaster, and all the company in ships, and sailors, and as many as trade by sea, stood afar off,

Rev 18:18 And cried when they saw the smoke of her burning, saying, What [city is] like unto this great city!

So there are two points to be made here. First, look at the list of things that Babylon traded in. I don't think there is a single one that America hasn't traded in. Also, it says that sea captains will stand far off and cry about her downfall. I've heard some suggest that this refers to the original Babylon in modern Iraq. But that simply can't be. The original Babylon was landlocked. Sea captains wouldn't be able to see it. And in the chapter just before all of this it speaks of 'Babylon the Great' as a land that sits on 'many waters'.

Rev 17:1 ¶ And there came one of the seven angels which had the seven vials, and talked with me, saying unto me, Come hither; I will shew unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth upon many waters:

Rev 17:2 With whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication, and the inhabitants of the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her fornication.

Iraq is a rather dry place. So it would have to be someplace else. You tell me, what modern nation has all these treasures, all this business, sits on many waters, and has made men and nations all over the world rich?"

"I suppose it would have to be America."

"I believe so. I have to admit, the name 'America' never appears in scripture. But then neither does England. At that time it was referred to as the Isles, and that term does appear. It takes some thinking and prayer to figure these things out sometimes. Which just goes to prove what Paul said to Timothy.

2Ti 2:15 Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.

And that word of truth is what we all need. Especially in times like these. But there is further proof. It is in Ezekiel, where God is speaking of Gog, the chief price of Meshech. Meshech, is the old name for Moscow. It says;

Eze 38:10 ¶ Thus saith the Lord GOD; It shall also come to pass, [that] at the same time shall things come into thy mind, and thou shalt think an evil thought:

Eze 38:11 And thou shalt say, I will go up to the land of unwalled villages; I will go to them that are at rest, that dwell safely, all of them dwelling without walls, and having neither bars nor gates,

Eze 38:12 To take a spoil, and to take a prey; to turn thine hand upon the desolate places [that are now] inhabited, and upon the people [that are] gathered out of the nations, which have gotten cattle and goods, that dwell in the midst of the land.

To go up from Moscow means going across the north pole. There is only one place you could 'go up' from Moscow that could be called a land of unwalled villages. That is America and Canada."

"I have to say, you make a pretty strong case for what you are saying."

"Not me, Dear. The Bible does. And it is the Word of God."

"Ladies, it looks like we have another check point up ahead. Time to get ready." Russell said to them.

Since the very first road block when they left Collins Corner, they had made it a routine to have weapons ready as they came to each check point. They were loaded and ready for use, but kept out of sight. He slowed down behind Darrell, as they neared it.

Darrell stopped a few yards short of the check point and waited in the car for the sheriff's officer to approach. As he did so, Darrell didn't know if it was because of everything going on and he was just getting used to being stopped and questioned, or if there really was something to the feeling that there was something familiar about this man. Either way he was getting tired of being treated like he was suspected of a crime. The usual question was the first one asked.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"We had to get out ahead of the Russians. I'm going home."

"Yeah. I've heard that one before. You can't come this way. The town is locked down. No one in, no one out."

"Look we can't go back. We don't have the gas for that. This is the only way for us to get where we are going. You have to let us through."

"Yeah, you're breaking my heart. Turn around and go, now!"

The expression was a common one, but the way it was said jarred Darrell's memory.

"FRANK! Are you really going to treat me like this?"

Hearing his name called, made the officer look more closely at who he was talking to.

"You know me?"

"I should. I used to date your sister, Patti."

He looked more closely at Darrell. "Darrell? Darrell Kelley? Is that really you? How long has it been? I thought you went to New York."

"It's been about ten or twelve years I guess, and I did. I should have listened to you. You were right. After a while, I couldn't live there any more, so I moved out. Now I just want to go home." He paused for a moment. "How is Patti, anyway?"

"Oh, she married Jimmy and has two kids now. So who's your friend here?"

"This is my girlfriend, Cindy."

"Hi." She said, timidly.

"Afternoon, Miss." He studied the couple for a moment. "Is that car back there with you guys?"

"Yes, they are."

"Can you vouch for them?"

"Frank, the man driving it was the commander of the local militia before we got forced out. The two women with him are his mother and girlfriend. I owe him my life. We all do."

Frank stood and looked back at the Porter car. He studied it as well for a few more moments. He looked back to Darrell.

"Give me a minute to get to the car. I shouldn't do this, but since we know each other and I know where you're going, I'll escort you to the other side of town. But listen to me carefully, Darrell. Everything has gone crazy. You know you have to pass right though town. If you even try to stop, someone will probably shoot you. And then they will shoot everyone else with you. People are scared and they aren't taking any chances. So don't you take any."

"Sounds like a deal to me. Don't worry about the ones following me. If I don't stop, they won't."

"Yeah, alright. Wait here for a minute."

Cindy grinned at Darrell. "Checking up on old girlfriends, are we?"

"Hardly. Last time I saw Patti, she told me that she never wanted to see me again." He smiled at her. "It seems she was just as smart as her brother. She didn't want to move to New York any more than he did. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"I better not. With two children, I don't think her husband would be to happy about it."

[day late]

It wasn't long before a Sheriff's car pulled out. The driver waved at Darrell and started down the road. Darrell followed him and Russell was right behind. As they got close to the town the Sheriff's car turned on the flashing red and blue lights and proceeded on. The two cars drove closely behind him, giving almost the appearance of a parade. They moved slowly down the road, not even trying to avoid the attention of the people in the town. Frank knew that by doing so he was showing them that these people were nothing to worry about, which is what he wanted.

Almost as soon as they began to move, Sandra made a surprising announcement.

"Oh my goodness. I don't know what's wrong with me, but suddenly I'm so tired." She said while trying to stifle a yawn.

Since she was in the back seat, Russell never noticed the look his mother gave her. Instead he said, "Why don't you just lean back and take a nap. I'll wake you if anything happens."

"I think I will. Thank you." And with that Sandra was asleep almost before she finished speaking.

Mrs. Porter didn't say anything, but kept a close eye on Sandra. The trip through town took almost no time, and when they reached the other side of it Frank stopped his car and spoke briefly with the officers at the road block on the far side. After that he got back in his car and signaled the other two vehicles to follow him. Soon they were a couple of miles past the second road block, and he pulled over to the side of the road. He got out of the car and walked back to talk to Darrell.

"This is as far as I can take you. I've got to get back to my post. Darrell, you folks be careful. Don't stop again until you get home. You hear me?"

"I got you. When you see her, tell Patti I said hi."

"Yeah. You better get going."

Darrell pulled out and headed to the dirt road that he knew lead to his family home. Russell continued to drive right behind him, trying his best to avoid pot holes and bumps in the road to allow Sandra to sleep. The day continued to be beautiful and peaceful during the drive. It was hard to believe that they were at war, with the enemy already on their shores. It seemed impossible, but he knew it was real.

It took a half an hour for Darrell to find the road he was looking for. He pulled into the drive way and stopped in front of a large metal gate that barred his way. Stopping the car, he got out and walked up to the gate. It was held closed by a simple sliding bar, which he pulled back and pushed the gate all the way open. As soon as it was opened, he used the same bar to lock it in the open position on a post with a ring made for the purpose, so that the cars could pass through and continue to his old home. It was while he was walking back to the car that the girl came strolling around a bend in the dirt road and saw him.

"Hey!" She shouted at his back. "Where do you think you're going?"

He turned and said, "Home."

"Darrell?"

"Hi. Shelley."

"DARRELL!" The young lady ran to him and threw her arms around him, holding on as if her life depended on it. Cindy, sitting in the front seat was quite surprised and more than a little disturbed by the scene. It took him a few minutes, but Darrell finally pushed the woman to arms length and spoke to her.

"Shelley. What's going on? I know it's been awhile, but come on."

"But you're DEAD!"

"Really? Nobody told me about it."

"You were in New York. How can you be here, and alive?"

"I moved out of there about a couple of months before it was nuked."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I tried. The phones weren't working and the letters I sent were returned."

"WHAT? You sent letters? Then why didn't we..." Her voice trailed off. Then she spoke again. "I don't care. You're here and you're alive. Oh, thank God." Again, she clung to him and began to cry.

Cindy couldn't stand it any longer. She got out of the car and walked over to the couple.

"Darrell?"

He looked at her, and smiled. "Cindy. I want you to meet my sister, Shelley. Shelley, this is Cindy. We have a kind of a thing going on. She's very important to me. Where's Mom and Dad?"

Shelley's face fell at the question. "Darrell, I have bad news. You know you were always Mom's favorite. When we didn't hear from you, we thought you were dead. It was too much for Mom. She had a heart attack. She's gone."

"WHAT? Are you for real?"

"I'm sorry, but it's true. And it gets worse. You know how much Dad loved her. Since she died, he hasn't been sober for a single day. That's why I was walking down here. He's tied one on, again. I had to get out of the house for awhile."

"I can't believe it. Mom died because of ME? Oh, Lord help me." He dropped his face into his hands and began to cry.

"Darrell. I'm so sorry. I know how much it hurts." Cindy told him as she put her arms around him to provide what comfort she could offer. He in turn held on to her. The tears continued to flow.

"Darrell? Come up to the house. I know that it will help Dad. Maybe you two can help each other. Come on home."

"I don't get it. How could Dad be getting drunk all the time?"

"Since times are bad, a lot of people have gone back to the old ways. There are stills in just about every valley for miles around. A lot of those people owe Dad a favor or six. They keep him supplied."

"Oh, Lord. Help me. Cindy, can you drive? I don't think I can."

"Of course. Don't worry about it."

While all of this had been going on, Russell had gotten out of the car and walked up to the group.

"Is everything alright?" He asked.

Shelley looked at him and wanted to know. "Who are you?"

Before he could answer, Cindy spoke.

"This is Russell. He's a good friend of ours. Darrell says he has saved our lives, and he is right."

"He did?" She looked at Darrell. He shook his head. "Well, if Darrell says you're alright, then I guess you're welcome here too. I'm Shelley, his sister."

"Pleased to meet you. But I have to ask again, is anything wrong?"

"He just found out, our mother died."

"I'm sorry. Can I do anything?"

"Thanks, but not really. Only time and The Lord will help."

Russell was about to speak again, when he heard the screams coming from his car. He turned and ran back to it. When he got there, Mom was holding Sandra. She was crying unbelievably hard.

"Mom! What happened?"

"Sandra has had a vision, I think."

"Sandra. What's going on? Are you alright?"

She looked up at him. Tears were flowing from her eyes.

"It's terrible! Russell, you don't know what's going to happen. It is so terrible. And we don't have much time."

"Sandra! What are you talking about?"

"I had a dream. It was from God. I don't know what to say."

"Are you sure it wasn't just a bad dream?"

"Son. Did you notice how she suddenly got tired and had to sleep?" Mom asked. Russell nodded and said nothing.

"Russell, there are many accounts in The Bible where just such a thing has happened. The dreamer was always given a dream or vision from The Lord. Hear her out."

"Sandra, what were you shown?" He asked.

"There is an earthquake coming, and it will be terrible. Worse than what happened in California."

"How do you know? What did you see?"

"After I went to sleep, it was like I was high above the earth. I was looking down at the United States from way up there. I don't know how, but I knew someone was behind me. Then I heard His voice. I think it was God. He said, 'My child, look and see.'. When I looked down there was an earthquake. The entire Mississippi River valley just seemed to drop. Water gushed in from the Gulf of Mexico, and at the same time the Great Lakes started to drain into the Mississippi River. Water was everywhere. Russell, millions of people are going to die."

"Did you hear when it's going to happen? Maybe we can get the word out and save at least some of them."

"Soon. That was all I was told. It will happen very soon."

Unnoticed by the Porter's Darrell, Cindy and Shelley had come closer and were listening.

"Is she telling the truth? Did she really hear from God?" Shelley asked unbelievingly.

"Knowing her, I'd say it's better to believe her than not to believe her. She's always been straight up with me, and she even saved Russell's life once." Darrell told her.

"We better get to the house. Darrell, you let me break the news to Dad that you're still alive."

"Okay. Get in the car."

The two vehicles moved towards the Kelley home. Once they stopped, Shelly got out and ran for the house, calling as she went.

"Dad! Dad, where are you?"

Darrell got out of the car and for a minute stood and stared at the home. It seemed smaller than it should. Cindy got out and walked around to him.

"Want me to come in with you, or just wait here?"

"It probably won't be pretty. But I think I can use the moral support, if you don't mind."

"If I did, I wouldn't have asked."

He smiled at her. "You're a lot tougher than you look. Thanks."

With that he took her hand and they walked to the front porch and into the house. They saw a black wreath hanging above the front door, to symbolize mourning. Not knowing what to expect, Cindy was pleased to see a neat and tidy home, with many comforts inside it's walls. In a room just off of the living room she heard Shelley calling to her father.

"Dad! Dad, wake up. I have good news for you."

She heard a man mumbling, but couldn't tell what he was saying. Shelley continued to try to rouse him.

"Dad! Come on Dad, wake up."

"Leave me alone."

"Dad, I've got good news for you. Please, wake up."

"What's good about my life? Let me sleep, or get me a drink."

"Dad, sit up. Look who's here."

"I don't want to see anybody." Still, he sat up just to get Shelley to stop shaking him. His head really hurt. Darrell had moved into the doorway and now spoke.

"You don't even want to see me?"

The voice caused his father to slowly look up. It took a moment for him to focus on Darrell. He then rubbed his eye's with his hands and looked again.

"Shelley, that last batch of shine must have been a bad one. I'm seeing things."

"No you're not Dad. Darrell is home."

"But he's dead."

Darrell walked over and took his fathers hand in his own.

"Do I feel dead to you, Dad?"

The older man sat looking at the hand that held his own. Then up at Darrell. Tears were in his eye's. "You're really here? How? What happened?"

"Dad, why don't we get you sobered up and I'll tell you everything."

It took most of the rest of the afternoon before Darrell's father finally came to his senses again. What followed was a mixture of joy at Darrell's return, and crying about the loss of his mother, with many explinations thrown in. Mr. Kelley refused to allow Darrell to get very far from his side, and he in turn introduced Cindy, as well as Russell, his mother and Sandra. Before night fell, the Porter's were set up in a small guest house on the property. As Russell and Mom had started to settle in, while Shelly, Sandra and Cindy began to prepare the evening meal.

"Well, it certainly has been a day." Shelley commented. "One I never thought I'd see for sure. I mean, my brother is back from the dead, and Dad is actually sober for the first time in months." She smiled to herself. "The Lord is so good. I just can't believe it."

Sandra was still disturbed by her dream and answered. "I know you're right, but I can't help but wonder what is good about what He showed me today. There was so much death."

"I can think of one thing." Cindy responded. "At least we know to stay away from the Mississippi, and the rivers that feed it. Jor another, now you can't have any doubt left about Jesus being The Son of God."

"Why would you doubt that?" Shelley asked.

"Not long ago I was Jewish. But as I have learned, God has a way of reaching people if they will listen."

"That's true enough. Welcome to the family of God."

"That sounds strange. I always thought I was. Now I know different."

"Ladies, we better hurry up and finish. I don't know about everybody else, but after being on a liquid diet for so long, I'm sure Dad is going to be hungry as a bear."

The women smiled at each other and continued with their task.

[Mysty]

ugh sorry wrong area =(

[day late]

During the next couple of weeks Russell, Mom and Sandra became familiar with the Kelley family. And they got to know them. They each found that they had much in common, which helped to cement friendships between them. Sandra continued to be nervous about her dream, expecting for it to happen at any moment. Finally Mrs. Porter spoke to her about it.

"Child, you have got to stop walking around on egg shells like you've been doing. You'll wear yourself out like that."

"Mom, you didn't see it."

"That's true, but The Lord does things in His own time. Look at Jonah. He gave the prophecy about the destruction of Nineveh, but they repented and it took another seventy years to happen. Now if he had lived that long, what condition do you think he would have been in if he behaved as you are doing?"

"I know. You're right. But I just can't stop thinking about it."

Mrs. Porter walked over and put her arms around her.

"I know how you feel. I spent a lot of years in prayer about having a child. I waited and waited for The Lord to answer that prayer. When it did happen, I wondered why it had taken so long, but never got an answer to that one until recently. If Russell had been born when I thought he should have, things would be completely different now. He would be married with teenagers of his own by now most likely. Instead, The Lord worked everything out for our advantage now. Trust The Lord, my Dear. He knows what He is doing."

"What do you think He is doing?"

"I couldn't say, after all who knows the mind of God? But we can be sure of one thing, it will all work out the way He wants it to. And we know another thing. Remember how the people at the local church took it when you were asked to give your testimony and tell of your dream?"

"Better than I thought they would, that's for sure. I honestly thought they would laugh at me for the dream. But it looks like most of them took it seriously."

"And what gives you that idea?"

"A lot of them came up and asked for more details about it, instead of what I had been smoking or whatever."

"There you have it. The Lord is working it out in the lives of people we barely know. Who can say how many lives were saved by your dream? So stop worrying Sweetheart. It will happen when He is ready, and not one second before. In the mean time, we go along and continue to serve Him as best as we can." She stopped for a moment and then asked, "One thing I don't recall anyone asking you is about when it will happen. By that I mean were you given anything to indicate the time of day by any chance?"

Sandra paused and thought about it. Mom was right. People had asked about the time of year, or what year, but never the time of day. She closed her eye's and went over the dream once again, remembering every detail.

"Not specifically. But I do remember that the sun was going down. I know because the shadows from the mountains were getting longer towards the east."

"Well then, at least you know you don't have to worry about it in the mornings any longer."

Sandra smiled. "I guess you're right. Funny how you miss things like that."

"All things are revealed in God's time. You didn't remember it before this, because it wasn't time for you to remember."

Once the word that Russell had been the commander of the militia at Collins Corner got out, he was quickly approached by the commander of the local militia. He soon found himself placed in charge of about twenty men and given instructions that they were not to allow anyone unknown to someone in the area to enter that area. He didn't ask why after what he had already been through. It made perfect sense. He did however accept a demotion to the rank of Lieutenant. While the men didn't understand some of the things he wanted done at first, they obeyed him. None could figure out why he wanted model rockets, until the day he showed them how they had been used during the fight to drive the enemy from the homes across the road from where he and his people had been. Once that was accomplished everyone decided this new guy just might work out after all. Even if he was a city boy.

For his part, Russell learned the art of camouflage. He learned that walking in the woods wasn't the same thing as walking down the street. He had to place his feet carefully and quietly when he moved. Before long he and his men were working together hand in glove. With the reports that they had been receiving that co-operation was a good thing. The reports weren't good. The Russians were making serious advances all along the east coast. Even worst, a combined force of Mexicans and Cubans were rapidly advancing up the Mississippi River. American resistance, mostly civilian in nature, was keeping them from getting very far inland from the river, but they couldn't stop them from coming up the river. Russell knew that if they managed to link up with the Russian forces trying to break out of the Dakota's, the nation would be cut in half.

Darrell had at the beginning thought of going off to join the war effort. Then he learned that the local doctor had been more or less drafted, and his services were needed here and now. Which was quickly brought home to him when he was dragged out of bed one night to help with the delivery of a baby and setting the broken arm of the child's father. He had fallen while on his way to get Darrell and ignored the injury until his wife and new born child were taken care of. Darrell became convinced that night that his place was at home.

It was during one of the patrols being made by Russell and his men that Sandra's dream became a reality. It started rather quietly as such things go. A slight vibration was felt through the soles of their boots. It made them uneasy, especially when it did nothing but get stronger. Within moments the men got off their feet to avoid being knocked down. It seemed as if it was going to go on forever, and when it stopped it was suddenly. Russell ordered the patrol back towards town, but stopped short and asked for the single men to re-enforce the check point, figuring that survivors would be heading for higher ground and the two officers there would need the help. As they got closer to town different members of the group peeled off to check on their own families. Surprisingly, there was very little damage to the homes, or injury to the people who lived in them. Even so, Russell couldn't wait to get to the Kelley homestead to check on Mom and Sandra.

Russell didn't even stop to wonder why Darrell wasn't there. He knew that no doubt he was busy treating any injured, or getting ready to do so. He was glad to see that while there were some things that had been disturbed, the houses themselves seemed to be undamaged. That gave him hope that everyone there was also unhurt. As he arrived, Shelley and Mr. Kelley were on the front porch putting things back in place and clearing away anything that had broken when it fell. They waved at him and shouted their assurances that everyone was unharmed.

When he got to the guest house, he found something that he wasn't expecting. He had thought that now that the earthquake had happened, Sandra would be torn up by it, knowing just how bad it had been. Instead he found her and Mom setting things back in place, and chatting as if nothing had happened. It was Sandra who explained it.

"There's two reasons I'm not as upset as everyone else. You have to remember, I've had a couple of weeks to get used to the idea. Yes, I'm very sorry for everyone who was hurt or killed in this, but I've already had two weeks to mourn for them. The second is because of what Mom told me, just this morning."

"What was that?" Russell asked his mother.

"I had a dream last night. I believe it was from The Lord. He doesn't want Sandra to continue to be upset by all of this. There are plans He has for her in the future. And before you ask, no, I wasn't told what they are. But I was told that before much longer, she will be a wife and she and her husband are going to serve The Lord, together."

"Is that all you were shown?"

"No. I was shown a couple of other things, but they are just for me."

Russell had to ask. "Were you shown who Sandra's husband is going to be?"

"Yes. But I'm not allowed to say."

"Why not?"

"Son, some times you need to just let things go. Trust The Lord, he has it under control."

Despite his careful prodding and subtle questioning, Mom would not say another word on the matter. He didn't like it, but knew her well enough to know that if she didn't want to say anything, she wouldn't. He eventually let the matter drop. He also let it go because his services were needed in the militia.

He decided that they didn't want to kill anyone they didn't have to kill. The choice was made based on the old expression, 'There but for the grace of God, go I'. The people headed to higher ground weren't bad people. They were unfortunate, but not bad. He was grateful that nobody tried very hard to break through the road blocks or get around them. There were a few, but only a very few and they were turned back without gun play or loss of life. It was a couple of weeks after the great earthquake that one of his men came to him one afternoon.

"Sir? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure Jimmy. What's on your mind?"

"Well, Sir. Is it true that you commanded a militia unit back east before the Russians forced you out?"

"Yes, it is. Why?"

"Sir, Most of us have never seen combat or anything like it. Don't get me wrong. When push comes to shove, we'll be right there with you, but... well, I'm not sure about everyone."

"What do you mean?"

"This is our land, our homes, all that kind of thing. And we will defend them. But there is one guy I think you might want to have a word with. Not that he's a coward, Sir. It's just, well he seems to be a bit more scared than everybody else. I think a word from you might just help him. Know what I mean?"

Russell nodded his head, remembering how frightened he was when the bullets were bouncing off the wall back home. "That I do, Jimmy. Who are you talking about, and where is he?"

"It's George, Sir. Last I saw of him he was down by the creek."

"Thanks. I'll see if I can find him."

Russell quietly moved down hill to the creek running though the valley below. It didn't take long before he found George, sitting on a log and tossing pebbles into the water.

"Hello George. Mind if I join you?"

"No Sir. Please have a seat."

Russell settled down next to him and sat quietly for a few moments before speaking.

"So, how are you doing George? Everything alright?"

"I guess so Sir."

"That sounds like you're not to sure. Is there a problem?"

"Not really, Sir. It's just... I don't know how to say it."

"Try straight out. That usually works."

"Sir, I want to, but I don't know how you're going to feel about it."

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"Oh. No Sir. I'm glad to have you as our platoon leader. It's something else."

"George, I can't afford to have a man who is unsure about himself, or other men in the platoon. So out with it. What's on your mind?"

George took a deep breath and started speaking. "Sir, I'm not like you and the other guys. Before all of this, I never even owned a gun. I never got into fights in school. I had a real nice quiet life. Look at me now. Out here learning how to kill. I don't want to let anyone down, but I just don't know if I can do this."

"So you're telling me that you're scared. Is that it?"

"Yes Sir. I guess that's it in a nut shell. I don't want to let everybody down, but like I said, I'm not like you guys."

"George, let me tell you something. We're all scared. Me more than most."

"You Sir?"

"That's right. You see, not only do I have to keep myself alive, I'm the one who has to keep the rest of you alive as well. So yeah. I'm scared too." He paused to let it sink in. He remembered something that Gunny Collins had told him, and now he told the man. "I'll tell you something else George. Any man who tells you he isn't scared when someone out there is trying to blow his head off is either a fool or a liar. In either case I don't want a 'fearless' man under my command."

"I would think you wouldn't want any other kind."

"Well, you're wrong, and I'll tell you why. A 'fearless' man thinks he can't be killed. That makes him take stupid foolish chances that sooner or later WILL get him killed and probably one or two others with him. I don't want a man like that in my platoon. I don't want him because I don't want to have to look his wife, mother, girlfriend or whoever in the eye and tell them he won't be coming back and why."

Russell could tell his words were making George see things in a new light. He went on.

"Tell you what George. You need to learn about fear and bravery. Bravery isn't the absense of fear. It is admitting you are afraid and doing your job anyway, because it IS your job. I want you to go home, get your Bible and turn to the Book of Judges. I want you to read the entire story of Gideon."

"You mean the guy who led three hundred men against the enemy?"

"That's right. I want you to read about how scared he was, even though he was having one on one conversations with God. Then if you still want to, we can talk again tomorrow. Alright?"

"I'll read it as soon as I get home tonight, Sir."

"George, maybe I didn't make myself clear. You go home and read that NOW. Then you pray about it tonight. So get going, that's an order."

George stood up, turned to leave but stopped suddenly. "Thank you, Sir. I feel better already."

"Go on. If you want I'll be here tomorrow. Now git."

[day late]

The encounter with George gave Russell a reason to think. If George was frightened, then doubtless others were as well. He called them together the next morning to talk with them. They sat together in a small clearing waiting for him to speak.

"Good morning, men. There are some things that have been brought to my attention. Things that are bothering some of you. Maybe all of you. Let me start by asking you all something. Show me your hands. How many of you are ready to die?"

None of them raised their hands, and they all looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

"Okay, how many of you want to go to heaven?"

They started to laugh, but stopped when they realized Russell wasn't kidding and one by one raised their hands.

"Alright. We have established that we all want to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die to get there. Men, there are some things you all need to learn and accept. First of all, since these are the end times, and unless The Lord returns right now, none of us are likely to get out of life alive." He waited for them to grasp the thought.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that I'm any more ready to die than any of you. But life and death are and have always been in the hands of God. If it is His will that any of us are to die, I don't care if you are in the finest medical facility in the world, with the best medical team ever assembled and all the latest and greatest gizmo's and gadgets they have. You are still going to die. BUT if it is His will for you to live, you can be at ground zero of the biggest bomb ever used, you will still live. Our problem is that we don't know what is God's will for any of us at any given moment."

Again he watched them, as they began to seriously think about what he was saying.

"Guys, I'm bringing this up to prove a point. As I said, these ARE the end times. Have you really thought about what that means? In The Bible it is Jesus who said that unless these times were shortened, no flesh would be left alive. Our only hope is our names are found in The Lambs Book of Life. But look at the other side of that coin for a minute. If our names appear there, then it is guaranteed that Satan wants us dead. There are no two ways about it. You can't run from that. You can't hide from it. Satan knows who is in The Book of Life, because we aren't on his side. And the only way you could possibly avoid what he has planned for us is to give up our faith, deny Jesus and join him. For me, that price is just too high.

Our relationship with Jesus Christ is what makes us a threat to him. It isn't us who threaten him, it is our relationship with The Lord that is what scares him. Because of that relationship, we might just be able to bring others to The Lord, and he can't stand that. He can not allow anyone who won't worship him to live. So we all have to get used to the idea that Satan wants to kill every last one of us, and there is absolutely no way that anyone can stand against him in our own strength. We wouldn't last a second. But like The Bible says, our strength comes from The Lord. And it is He who decides which people will still be standing on the last day. Not Satan.

Now I can't tell you who will or won't be here on that day. But I do know this. We are taught in scripture to stand against evil. Even at the cost of our own lives, if necessary. I'm not asking anyone to die for their beliefs. I AM asking you all to stand for them, and for The Lord.

I know it is scary. It scares me half the time. I've got a mother, a girlfriend, and I've met some mighty fine people here. I don't want to lose any of that. But in the end, it isn't my choice. I don't plan on making it easy for our enemy to get me. But I know that if he does sooner or later, I'll be coming back with The Lord of Lords and King of Kings. That means I can smile at the one who kills me. Because you can guess who I'm going to be looking for when I do return."

That statement gave many of the men, who had been growing ever more somber, a reason to chuckle. It broke the tension. They smiled at one another and some clapped each other on the back with words of encouragement.

"Man, I'm glad you're not going to be looking for me."

"I pity the guy you're going to be looking for."

"Who says I'm going to be looking for anybody? I'm still going to be here. You wait and see."

"Alright, alright. Settle down. We still have a job to do here. We are headed out on a patrol to the west. We need to make sure that any Cuban or Mexican soldiers that might have survived the flood after the great quake aren't coming this way. Men, I can't warn you enough about what kinds of things they might have waiting for us. If any at all are left they have been cut off, and no doubt are scared more than we are. After all, they are far from home and don't have The Lord on their side. So let's all be cautious."

They left on patrol within a short time after that. As had become standard practice, instead of walking the roads, they moved parallel to them. Close enough to see them clearly, yet far enough off of them to not be easily seen themselves. Russell stayed near the center of the patrol in order to have the best chance of controlling it and getting any orders to one end of the line of men or the other in the shortest period of time. Each man had his own thoughts about what Russell had been telling them. It wasn't long before one thought came home to each of them.

"Satan knows who is in The Book of Life, because we aren't on his side. And the only way you could possibly avoid what he has planned for us is to give up our faith, deny Jesus and join him. For me, that price is just too high."

They decided, one at a time and each quietly on his own, that Russell was right. Satan knew who his enemies are, and given the chance would kill them. They just wouldn't let him have the chance.

Russell had his own concerns. He hadn't liked the way Mom had refused to answer him. He admitted that his feelings for Sandra had become very deep. The idea that she might marry someone else disturbed him in a way he didn't like at all. He made up his mind to do something about it as soon as he got back to her.

"Lieutenant. George thinks he's spotted something on the road up ahead." The word came back to him. Calling a halt, he moved forward to find out the problem. He found George squatting next to bush, looking at the dirt road in front of him, very intently.

"What's the problem George?"

"It's right down there, Sir. Do you see that dark patch in the road?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Look at the rest of the road, Sir. Light colored dirt as far as you can see in both directions. So why is that spot dark?"

"I see what you mean. Wait here for a minute." Russell didn't like what it could mean. Mines. Gunny Collins had spent some time teaching him about them, and now that knowledge would be put to the test.

He brought up the men from the patrol and had them spread out on either side of him. It didn't make sense to plant just one mine. Unless that was all the enemy had. OR unless they were nearby waiting for something to hit it so they could collect whatever they could in the way of supplies from what was left after the explosion. The only other choice was that this was just the first in a minefield. But that made no sense either. The invaders had never made it this far before, and minefields were often used to guard an area by keeping intruders out. Once the men were in position, he and George moved towards the dark patch.

Gunny Collins had told him that some mines were magnetic. If a large enough piece of metal got close to them they went off. There was also the problem of static electricity possibly doing the same thing. That was why, whenever possible a place like this where a suspected mine was found the ground should be gently probed with a pointed wooden stick. Russell knelled next to the spot and as gently as he could pushed the stick into the dirt. He hadn't gone more than a few inches into it when he hit something. What, he didn't know. He pulled the stick out and pushed it in again a few inches to one side. He got just as far when he hit something again. Whatever this was, it was big. As he had been taught, Russell began to scoop and brush the dirt from around and off of the top of the thing, with George watching his every move. Soon he was looking at the top of a large round metal object with something poking up from the center of the top. Cupping his hands he then began to slowly remove the dirt from around the sides of it, when George spoke.

"What's this?" He reached down and picked up a metal ring with a pin hanging from it. It looked like it came from a hand grenade.

"Oh, no. That's what I didn't want to see. Exactly where did it come from?"

"Right here, Sir. So what is it?"

"You know how a grenade is safe until you pull the pin. This pin comes from what they call an 'anti-handling device'. It is used to keep people from picking up your mine and using it against you."

"You mean a booby trap? I thought those were supposed to be illegal."

"That's why they call them anti-handling devices. It's just word games to get around the Geneva Convention."

"What do we do now?"

"We don't have any choice. We can't leave it here. Give me the pin." George did so. "Now, I'm going to try to put my hand under this thing and find the device. When I do, I'm going to try to put this pin back in the hole and make it safe. You are going to go over to that ditch and get as low as you can and stay there."

"Sir, I'm staying with you."

"George, this looks to be a five hundred pound mine. If I don't do this right and it goes off, the only part of me you're going to be able to find is what will be left in my boots. You sure you want to stay? There is no point in risking both of our necks."

"Sir, I think I'm going to go lay down in that ditch. With your permission."

"Clever man. Go."

Russell waited until George's head disappeared from view before he continued. He found the place where whoever had laid the mine had scooped out underneath it to remove the pin, and slowly slid his hand into the area. Sure enough, he found, by touch, a small metal box that was on the bottom of the mine. As gingerly as he could he used the point of the pin to find the hole it had been removed from. Ten long minutes later he was rewarded by feeling the pin slip into a hole on the box. He pushed it in as far as it would go, and pulled his hand out. He looked at the top of the mine and suddenly realized he had a problem. He didn't speak or read Spainish.

There was what looked something like a dial with an arrow on it on the top of the mine. Outside of the dial were two words written in Spainish. He knew that one word would indicate 'safe' and the other 'armed', but didn't know which was which. He decided the arrow must be pointing at the word for 'armed' and gently twisted the dial to the other word. Now, if he remembered his training he could unscrew the fuse set into the top and safely take it out. After doing so, he began to pull the mine partially from the ground, hoping and praying that he had gotten the pin in the proper place. He lifted the side the anti-handling device was screwed into until he could easily reach it. First he bent the end of the pin to keep it from accidently getting pulled out. Then he took it out of the mine and set it next to the fuse. He pulled the mine the rest of the way out of the ground and set it on the opposite side of the hole from the fuse. Once finished he breathed a hugh sigh of releif and called George back over to him.

"George, I'd like you to carry these fuses while we are out on patrol. I'll carry the mine. I don't think it is a good idea for one man to carry both."

"Yes, Sir." George took the fuses from the ground and looked at them. Then he asked a question. "Sir? Why didn't you make this big fuse safe before you took it out?"

"What?"

"Look here. This arrow is pointed at the word for 'fire'."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yes, Sir. My wife is from South America. We talk Spainish all the time. Our kids do too."

"I thought I did put it on safe. I guess the guy who put it there forgot to arm it." He breathed another sigh and silently prayed, thanking God for protecting him. "George, when we get back I want you to start teaching everyone the Spainish words for things like 'fire', 'safe', or any others that you think might be important. Starting with me."

"You got it, Sir."

The exact place where the mine was found was marked on a map. However the rest of the patrol went quietly. Russell and his men made a large sweep of the area looking for any sign of enemy activity. They found none, which was even more disturbing to him. He knew that whoever planted the mine couldn't be far away, but there was no indication of who the were or where they might be. He decided that the best chance they had of discovering where they might be hiding were the local sportsmen. They would know all of the countryside like the backs of their hands, from hunting, hiking and camping. They would have the best idea of where to look.

When the patrol returned to town, Russell and George went to see the militia commander. They showed him on the map where the mine had been found and explained what had been done after that. The breifing took nearly an hour and when they left, Russell found Sandra waiting for him. She did not look happy.

"Russell! We have to get back to the house right now!" She was almost in a panic.

"What's going on?"

"It's Mom. She's sick. Darrell is with her now."

[day late]

Russell didn't wait for any further information. He ran to the house as quickly as he could. Sandra made the trip right on his heels. When he got to the house Darrell was waiting for him on the porch.

"Darrell! What's going on? How's Mom? Why are you out here?"

"Cindy is with your mother. Russell, sit down. We need to talk."

Russell moved to a chair, with his heart beating wildly. Sandra moved up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Is she going to be alright? Tell me what's going on."

Darrell looked at the floor and spoke quietly. "Russell, your mother is dieing. And there is nothing I can do about it. Lord knows, I wish it was different."

"Why not? I've seen you help people with all kinds of problems."

"Not this time, I'm afraid. Russell she's in her seventies. Her heart is just worn out. Even if we had the perfect donor, the best medical equipment and the government would permit such an expensive operation on an older person, I don't think she would make it through the surgery. I'm sorry. There is nothing anyone but God can do about it."

Russell felt Sandra's hands grip him tightly. The news was just as hard on her, he could tell. "But Mom's never been sick as far as I can remember. She's always been as strong as an ox. She never complained about anything."

"Judging by my examination, she hasn't always been as strong as you think. She just hasn't told you about it. Her heart is very weak. The beat isn't as strong as it should be and it is irregular. She doesn't have long to live as far as I can tell."

"How long?"

"Am I God? Only He knows. Could be weeks, days or maybe hours."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course. I think both of you should go in. She's awake and alert, but very weak. Try not to tire her."

Together, Russell and Sandra entered the bed room. Cindy was sitting by the bed, holding Mrs. Porter's hand and quietly talking with her. It seemed to Russell that he was truly seeing his mother for the first time. He hadn't noticed the wrinkles before this. Nor realized just how gray her hair had become over the years. She somehow seemed smaller than he remembered and much more frail. While her voice was as clear as it had ever been, it was still weak.

"Hi Mom. How are you doing?" He asked.

"Hello, Russell. Good evening Sandra. It's good to see you both." She did sound weak. "I guess I'm as good as I can be, considering."

"Oh Mom, don't talk like that. You'll pull through this."

"Nonsense, Russell. I'm dieing and that's all there is to it." She looked at him, her eyes were clear and bright. She seemed to look right down inside of him. "Don't be sad, Son. You either, Sandra. I've had a long full life. I've seen a lot of both the good and bad that life has to offer. I've seen tyrants and dictators rise and fall. I've seen good men and women stand. Some times they live, like Corrie ten Boom or Dimitru Duduman. And some times they don't. The Lord has given me much, and now it's time for me to go home." She smiled at him. "Look at it this way. Soon I'll be with Jesus and I'll even get to be with your father again. That's nothing to be sad about. Be happy for me."

Russell sat in the chair that Cindy had vacated for him to use as she left the room. Sandra pulled up another one and sat on the other side of the bed.

"Mom, I don't know if I can be happy. I love you more than I can say. Why didn't you tell me about this? We could have done something. I need you."

"I do too, Mom." Sandra said.

"Nonsense. I'm an old woman who's days of usefulness are at an end. I've had angina for more years than I care to remember. There wasn't anything that can be done about it, so why worry you? It's just time for me to go home. There is nothing to worry about. But you two are still young and full of life. You don't need me." She fixed her eyes on her son. "But if I can, I do want to ask you to promise me two things, Son."

"Anything, Mom. You know that. What do you want?"

"Russell, you know where we are at. This is the beginning of the end times. You know that the great deception is ready to start at any time. I want your promise that you will always depend on The Lord and never even think of leaving Him, no matter what might happen. Always stay in The Word, and keep The Word in you."

Russell found himself smiling. "Mom, if it weren't for Jesus, I'd be dead already. There's no way I'm leaving Him. He's all that is keeping me alive. What else did you want?"

"I knew you would be faithful, but I needed to hear it for myself. Son, it isn't good for a Christian to be alone. Especially now. I want you to promise me that you will always keep at least one believer near you."

"Mom, I was thinking about that kind of thing, just this afternoon. I want you to know I'm going to do what I can to make sure I'm not alone." He paused and looked at Sandra. "Sandra. You heard what The Lord showed Mom. To be honest, when she wouldn't tell me who your husband will be, I got upset. I'll tell you the truth. I can't imagine my life without you in it. I know this isn't the best time. It's sure not the way I wanted it, but will you marry me?"

She reached over, took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I can't imagine my life without you in it. Of course I'll marry you."

They looked at Mom. She was almost glowing with happiness. "It's about time you two got that sorted out. Although this is the first time I've heard of a relationship starting out the way yours has. You've made me very happy."

Russell realized the truth at last. "Mom, you knew this was going to happen. Why didn't you tell us?"

"It had to be your choice. You couldn't feel like you were obligated into anything. If you did, I don't know if the relationship would work. Now you've made that choice. I'm just glad The Lord let me know about it before now. And, yes. This is why He let me know, but I couldn't tell either of you. You do understand, don't you?"

"I guess I do. But Mom, you have to stay around long enough for the wedding."

"Russell's right. I want you to be there for both of us." Sandra told her. "Who else is there to give me away?"

"That isn't my choice to make. But if The Lord allows, I'll be there." She stopped for a moment and then went on. "Son, I want you to know that you've made me proud of you. I thank God I got the chance to see you become the man that you are. No mother could be happier, or more proud. I also want you to know that I think Sandra here, is the perfect choice for your bride. I know the two of you will be happy together. I'm truly blessed. Now, the two of you have wedding plans to make. Why don't you leave an old woman to her rest and go do what you have to do."

"Mom! You're not old."

She smiled at him. "Son, I'm ancient. And you are a terrible liar. You always have been. That's why you couldn't ever get away with anything when you were a child." She turned to Sandra. "You remember that my dear. It will help you to keep him honest. Now you two go on. Let me get some sleep."

"Alright, Mom. But we'll be back first thing in the morning."

"I know. Go on now. Scoot."

The two of them got up to leave. As they reached the door, Russell stopped and turned back.

"I love you Mom. Good night."

"I love you too, Son. Goodbye."

Russell and Sandra walked out and were in another part of the house before he realized what Mom had said. Goodbye wasn't the same as good night. He started to turn and go back. Then he thought that by being there and keeping her awake, he might hasten things. That was the last thing he wanted. Instead, he made his excuses and went to his own room and went to bed. He'd only been there a short time when a soft knock came on the door.

"Russell? Are you still awake?" It was Sandra.

"Sure. Come on in." He sat up in bed.

Sandra came in, wearing a old fashioned night gown that nearly reached the floor.

"Russell, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I'd like to sleep with you tonight."

"Sandra. I know I proposed and you accepted, but tonight isn't the time for it. Don't you think that can wait?"

"You don't understand. I want to sleep with you. Not SLEEP with you. I just don't want to be alone tonight."

"Oh. I get it." He smiled at her. "To tell the truth, I could use a hug or two myself tonight. Maybe it's wrong, but come on over here." He pulled back the blanket for her. She moved to the bed and crawled in next to him. He laid back and together they put their arms around one another. It was comforting to them both, but before long he could tell that Sandra was quietly crying. He didn't mind. His face wasn't all that dry either.

"Russell?" Sandra said after a while. "I don't think I've ever said it, but Mom reminded me. Thank you for buying my contract." She paused and then asked. "What do you think is going to happen to Mom?"

He sighed softly and told her. "When we left tonight, Mom told me goodbye, not good night. I think she knows she won't last until morning. And I'm missing her already."

"I noticed the same thing. But I hope you are both wrong."

"Me too. But I just can't shake the feeling that she knows what she is talking about."

"I guess we'll know in the morning." She snuggled closer and held on a little tighter to him. "I really want her to see our wedding."

"That makes two of us." He thought about it. "I guess the only thing we can do is pray about it, and then leave it all in The Lord's hands."

"You're right. Do you want to start?"


Mrs. Porter laid in the bed looking up at the ceiling. She began to pray.

"Lord, I thank You for answering the prayers of an old woman. You have given my son a fine young Christian woman to help him in the days ahead when I won't be able to help. I thank You for a long full life. I've had everything a woman could ask for. A good husband who brought me to You. A fine son who has become a good Christian man. You've even given me a life that was mostly comfortable and always rich with the things I've seen and the people I've known. Lord Jesus, if it is Your will, I'm ready to leave when You call me. Amen."

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Much later that night, Darrell came into the room with the oil lamp turned so far down he could barely see anything. He didn't want to wake Mrs. Porter. Quietly, he moved to the bed, then sat down next to it and closely watched to see how she was breathing. He reached out and placed his fingers on her throat to check her pulse. After a few moments, he pulled his hand back and looked at her face. There was a faint smile on her lips. He knew she was at peace. He bowed his head and said a short prayer. Then he stood and grabbing the edge of the sheet, pulled it over her face. As he left he decided that he would wait until morning to tell Russell. Golda Porter had gone home.


While neither Russell or Sandra were surprised to hear of Mom's passing during the night, They both sat with her for awhile the next morning. It was hard to accept the fact this woman of such strength and great faith was gone. All to soon, Darrell's father came in and spoke to them.

"I don't mean to rush you or anything, but I've had to do this kind of thing once before. If you will let me, I'll get her ready."

"I hadn't even thought of that." Russell answered. "Yes. Please do, and thank you."

"Russell, you helped to bring my boy back to me when I thought he was gone for good. It's the least I can do. And I hope you have no objection, but there is a nice peaceful spot up on the hill over there. That's where my wife is. I thought it would be a nice place for your mother as well. Some of your men are already making things ready up there."

Sandra began to cry again and Russell held her, and was hard put not to do the same.

"I'm sure that will be fine. Mom always did like a nice view. Thank you."

The two of them left together and walked up the hill to see Mom's final resting place. Mr. Kelley had said 'some' of Russell's men were preparing the grave. When they got there it seemed as if most of the militia company was involved. Men were taking turns digging, while others removed the dirt to a nearby location to be used later for filling the grave. Seeing them come, one man approached Russell, hat in hand.

"Sir? You don't know me, I'm in another platoon. But I've heard about you and even had the chance to meet your mother and Miss Sandra, here. Well Sir, I'm no stone cutter, I work in concrete and that kind of thing. Sir, your mother called me the other day and asked if I could do head stones. There isn't much call for that kind of thing, but I told her I could. Anyway, she asked if I would do hers. I hope you approve of it."

"I'm sure you did your best. Thank you."

"Well, Sir. It's over here at the head of the grave. I'd appreciate it if you'd have a look."

Russell and Sandra agreed and walked up to the grave site. As they passed the men working, it all came to a stop, the men removed their hats and offered their sympathies to the couple. They continued until they got to the marker. Besides giving the name and oddly enough both birth and death dates it read,

A Beloved Wife, Mother and Friend.
Gone Home Ahead of The Rest.

Russell turned to the man. "It's beautiful. Don't get me wrong but why did you add friend?"

"You're her son, so maybe you didn't see it. She was that kind of lady, Sir. Just ask anyone who even met her."

By the time Golda Porter was finally laid to rest most of the people in the militia and their families were present. The only ones who missed it were forced to do so by being out on patrol. But even their families showed up to present their respects. Due to the circumstances, the service was brief, but not many had a dry eye when it was over. One by one people started to come by Russell and Sandra with words of comfort for them.

It was during this time that for a few minutes it sounded as if the sky it's self was being torn apart. Everyone looked up to see what was happening. It was a couple of days later that the word reached them. The 'Space Brothers' had arrived and wanted to help mankind.

[day late]

The day after Mom was put to rest one of the men in a different platoon reported to the commander of the militia. He in turn called for Russell. There was a man he knew as Rick with him.

"You wanted to see me, Sir." Russell said when he entered the commander's office.

"Russell. Come in. Please take a seat." He waited until Russell had done so, before he continued. "Lieutenant, I first want to say how sorry I am for your loss. I know it is hard. I regret to say that war never gives us the proper amount of time for grieving. I'm afraid I have to say that I am in need of your services again. And that has to be right now. Are you up to it?"

"Yes Sir. At least I think so. I'll do what I can."

"Good man. Lieutenant as you know we seem to have a problem with enemy survivors of the great quake. Our major problem is that we know they are out there, but we don't know where they are."

"I thought you had men looking for them, Sir."

"We have. But we haven't had any luck as of yet. That's where you come in."

"Sir?"

"There is someone who might be able to help us, but he doesn't like many of the locals. He doesn't like many people for that matter. But he knows these hills better than anyone, except maybe his son. We are hoping that you might be able to persuade him to help us."

"Sir, if he doesn't trust you, why would he trust me?"

"Two reasons. First of all, you are a new face, so he has no reason to distrust you. Secondly, he doesn't really hate anyone, but he and his son have more or less separated themselves from the rest of the world based on religious reasons. I think you might be able to reach him on those terms, given what I've heard about you."

"Well, Sir. I'll give it a try. Where do I find him."

"You don't. You and Rick here will head up into the hills, and he will find you. Rick will lead the way into the area, but after that, you'll have to wait on him. A lot of people have tried to find him for one reason or another. Nobody ever has found him, his house or anything else, unless he wants them to find it. His name is Bill. His son is Allen. I don't want to scare you, but he is an ornery old cuss. Not one for a lot of conversation. He's not openly hostile, but he's not friendly either. He and his son just want to be left alone."

"When do I leave?"

"The sooner, the better."

"Very well, Sir. It will take me about an hour to get ready."

"That's fine. Rick will meet you here when you're set."

Sandra wasn't pleased to hear of Russell's mission. At first she wanted to go with him, but Russell put a stop to that.

"Sandra, please listen to me. There are good reasons why you can't come. First of all, from what I'm told, that is going to be some pretty rugged country up there. You haven't even been camping, so how are you going to make it up and down those hills? Secondly I was given the mission, not you. The commander thinks I will stand a better chance of getting the help we need. I'm sure if he thought you could help he would have asked you to go along as well." He looked her in the eye and then said, "And I don't want to risk getting you hurt or worse. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Not after losing Mom. I CAN'T lose both of you. Do you understand?"
She put her arms around him and said, "I don't want to lose both of you either. It works two ways, Russell. But I guess you're right. But you be careful out there. I want you to come back. Do you hear me?"

"Don't worry. I'll be as careful as I can be. I still want you to sign that contract as my wife."

She smiled, "That's a contract you can't get out of. I'll have the papers ready by the time you get back."

The two men were taken to a place that was well off the beaten path by horse draw wagon and dropped off. They set an easy pace going though the woods, and did nothing to hide the fact that they were there. It didn't take long for Russell to realize that he had been more correct than he had known. It seemed that there was nothing but to much up at much to steep of an angle, or so much down that they were lucky not to be sliding on their backsides. He was certain that anyone who lived in this area would have to be part mountain goat. He was glad he had talked Sandra out of coming with him. He was also very happy that he had worn a 'Camelbak' canteen. The flexible pouch worn on his back left his hands free, and didn't snag the way a standard canteen worn on his belt would have. It also carried more water which could be had though a drinking tube that was clipped to his shoulder.

They spent most of the day making their way though the hills. At about three o'clock Rick suggested making camp for the night.

"It seems kind of early for that. Shouldn't we keep moving for awhile?" Russell asked.

"It may seem early to you, but trust me. In these hills the sun goes down fast and the dark comes on pretty quick. I'd like to set up camp while we can still see what we are doing."

Russell agreed, and soon the camp was ready for the night. They then each set out in different directions to gather wood for a small fire. Russell elected to leave his rifle behind and only take a handgun with him. That would allow him to bring more wood back to camp at one time. He started to pick up dead fall from the trees and try to carry it in a bundle under his arm. What he hadn't thought of until it was too late, was that if he had brought some kind of cord with him it would make the task easier by not having to keep the wood together in a bundle as he tried to move though the brush. Finally he spotted a branch lying next to a large bush that he felt would complete his job and provide for the two men that night. He pulled one end free from under the bush, and stacked what was under his arm on top of it intending to just drag everything back with him. He arranged the smaller pieces on top of the branch to his satisfaction and stood up to stretch his back. He didn't mind hard work, but this was more than he was used to doing. As he did, he looked again at the bush. There was something odd about it. He suddenly realized what it was. There was a pair of eye's looking back at him from inside of it. Everything came into focus in a second. This wasn't a bush. It was a man in a gillie suit. And he had walked right up on top of him without the first clue he was there.

"Oh. Hi there. Are you Bill?"

Silence was his only answer.

"Are you Allen?"

More silence.

"Look my friend and I are from town. We aren't here to hurt anyone, we need your help."

There was still no response from him.

"Do you understand what I'm saying? We are looking for Bill and his son Allen. If you are one of them we really need your help."

The man reached under the top half of the suit, pulled out a short piece of cord and dropped it at Russell's feet. Then still without a word he turned and walked off into the brush. Russell tried to follow his movements but it was as if the wilderness had swallowed him whole in an instant. There wasn't even the sound of moving brush. There was nothing. Whoever he was, he moved though the woods quieter than a whisper. Russell picked up the cord and called after the man.

"Whoever you are, thank you."

He gathered up the wood, and after tying it together made his way back to camp. He waited until they had a small fire started, the food cooked and it was getting dark before he told Rick about his encounter with the silent man.

"Sounds like you met Allen."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because Bill wouldn't have given you the cord. He thinks it is up to each man to look after himself and his family. Allen is a little more friendly."

"Why would someone want to live like this?"

"You have to understand. Bill has always been a pretty serious kind of man. A few years back he got saved along with his son. His wife had been a believer even longer. So, Bill being Bill, he started really studying The Bible. It didn't take long for him to become convinced that America is Babylon the Great. When he read where The Lord said 'come out of her' he decided that the only thing to do was to move as far away from people as could be managed. Then have nothing to do with anyone. He and his son moved out here, but his wife wouldn't have anything to do with it. They divorced and father and son have been living out here ever since."
The two men sat in silence and ate their meal, only moving to occasionally add wood to the fire. The night got darker and the fire was a wecome relief, which gave warmth to tired muscles. Russell almost jumped when a quiet voice came out of the darkness.

"Why are you on my mountain, Rick?"

"Looking for you, Bill." He continued to stare at the fire without turning around.

"Who's he?"

"This is my friend, Russell. He's a good Christian man."

"Why are you here?"

"We need your help, Bill."

"I heard. What?"

"Bill. I like to see the man I'm talking with. Why don't you come into camp and have a cup of coffee."

A man seemed to materialize right in front of Russell, from out of the fire's smoke.

"Don't need any. The Lord provides all the water I can drink."

"Well, you can take a seat, can't you? We need to talk."

"I don't. This is none of my concern."

"Sir I'm afraid it is." Russell put in. "There are some unfriendly people wandering around out here. They are survivors of the Mexican and Cuban invasion forces. They are not going to respect your claim to this mountain. They are going to try and take it from you."

"Don't think that less than a dozen of them could do that."

Russell noticed how Bill answered him.

"So you've seen them."

Bill looked at Rick. "He's quick."

"He's good, as well. You might want to talk to him."

Bill stared at Russell for a long quiet moment. "Who is Jesus Christ?"

"The Son of God. Born of the Virgin Mary. Who was crucified for our sin's and was raised from the dead on the third day."

"Close enough. I guess you are a believer. Now why should I re-enter Babylon?"

"You're not. You are keeping it from coming here. You don't even have to be involved beyond letting us know where to find them. And The Bible does say we are to resist evil. But we can't track them down, no matter how hard we look. Will you help us?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way. You can't find them because they are good. They don't spend two nights at the same spot. Do a good job of covering their tracks too." He stood and started to walk into the dark. He stopped just before he left the fire light and said over his shoulder. "I'll pray on it tonight. Lord willing, you'll have an answer in the morning."

With that he disappeared from sight and without a sound. The men sat quietly for a long time after that. Finally Russell asked.

"What do you think?"

"Hard to say. I will admit you talked to him just right. Short, to the point and you related it to scripture. For Bill, that's the most important thing. I guess we'll find out tomorrow."

"I guess so. I'm going to call it a night. Wake me when it's my guard shift."

"Good night. See you in a few of hours."

Since there were only two of them, they took three hour shifts watching over each other throughout the night. One thing they didn't do was spend time chatting whenever there was a shift change. They were both used to shifts of two hours on and four off. But that was when they had enough men to cover the extra time. They made the adjustments they felt would work. As a result Russell was awake as the sun was starting to come up. They had decided to get by with a cold breakfast. He was just starting to get things ready when he felt rather than saw someone watching him. He looked up, and found a young man standing there.

"Good morning. Here." He tossed the cord given him the day before back to it's owner. "And thanks again."

The man caught it and put it in his pocket. "Dad says you need to come on. He wants to show you something."

"Let me wake up Rick. And we need a few minutes to pack."

"Dad figured that. You've got half an hour. I'll wait only that long."

"It won't be that long." Rick had awakened and spoke to them. "Russell, grab something to eat with one hand and pack with the other. I'll make sure the fire is dead."

It took all of fifteen minutes for them to be on the way.

[day late]

As they left the camp area, Russell was right behind Allen, with Rick bringing up the rear. That suited Russell. He wanted a close look at how it was possible for a man to move so quietly through the brush. The first thing he noticed was that Allen never just pushed his way though the undergrowth. Where it was thick, he would carefully go around it, if possible. When he did go through it, he would turn his body at an angle and let it slide across him. By doing that the amount of noise made was reduced by quite a bit. He also noticed his clothing was of all natural fiber. The sound that made was very different from nylon and other man made materials.

Next he saw how Allen walked though the brush. When he set his foot down, it was always toes first, then the heel. It was unusual, but after trying to follow his unintended example, Russell found that he was indeed making less noise than he usually did. Not only that, but by placing his weight on the ball of his foot, when his heel came down if there were some obstruction under his foot, he would feel it before actually stepping on it and making noise. That allowed him the chance to not step down and keep from making noise.

One other thing he found was that while the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, it wasn't always the easiest or the quickest. Allen never went into the ravines they came across. Instead he skirted them until he could find an easier place to cross. Russell soon realized that by doing this they were saving time, and making far less noise. Where he and Rick might have stumbled down one side and then clambered up the other, Allen avoided that trap and went around. It wasn't long before he knew they had covered twice the distance that he and Rick might have made by going up and down, in half the time. It was no wonder that Bill and his son were so hard to find. They had learned the ways of the wilderness.

It took over an hour and a half for Allen to lead the two to the place where his father was waiting. Once during the trip, Allen noticed the amount of noise behind him had decreased. Thinking that he might be leaving the two men behind, he glanced over his shoulder only to see Russell right behind him. The corner of his mouth twitched as if he was going to smile, then he turned back and continued on.

"Hey, Dad." he said softly as they arrived.

Russell saw a bush ahead stand up then turn around, and address them.

"About time."

"Took it easy on them."

Russell wondered about that. He was breathing hard and starting to sweat.

"Okay. You did good. You didn't lose them."

Allen hooked his thumb towards Russell. "This one shows promise. Hasn't made half the noise he did when we started."

"That so?"

"Yep."

Bill signed the two men to move closer to him. When they did he pointed into a valley in front of them.

"You two. Take a look and tell me what you see down there. Rick, you first."

Rick looked down into it and stared for a few moments. "I see a valley. What else is there?"

Bill looked to Russell. "What about you?"

Russell also looked down into the small valley. He noticed that at some time in the past, something had happened to knock down a lot of trees. As he studied them for a moment, something came to him.

"Well, I see that something knocked down a lot of trees out there. But right over there," He pointed out one spot. "Something is different."

"What's that?"

"All through the valley the trees that have been knocked down are pointing down hill. But over there, there are some that are either cross ways or pointed up hill."

Bill almost smiled. "Anything else?"

"There is a formation of rocks down there by those trees that doesn't look natural."

Bill looked at Rick. "You're right, he's good. He sees more than you." He turned back to Russell. "We've been watching those Commies for about three weeks. They show up about every three or four days. Come in from the southwest, stay one night and head out due south the next day. They throw a cover over the trees and have a lean-to. They make a fire against those rocks. That way they block most of the light and reflect heat back into the sleeping area. Makes it real hard to spot them."

"How many are there?"

"Ten, last time they came through."

"Why haven't you told anyone about them?"

"They don't stay. One night and they are gone. Now you people are going to be coming out here looking for them and their friends, if they have any."

"Would you prefer them?"

"I prefer to be left alone."

"That's no longer a choice. Babylon is coming here."

"I know. That's why you are here."

"How long before they come back?"

"Tomorrow, maybe the day after. There's been bad weather to the south. That might have slowed them up a bit. You have that long to get ready for them. They also post sentries."

"We will. Thank you for your help."

"Just don't come back after it is done."

"If we don't have to, we won't." He waited a moment then asked. "Are you going to get involved?"

"I haven't decided."

"Fair enough. But you know they might not give you a choice."

"I know. If they don't, then The Lord has made the choice for me, and I won't fail Him."

Russell held out his hand. Bill reluctantly shook it. "May God be with you."

"And you. Allen. Let's go." With that the two of them moved off into the woods. As always, they disappeared as if they had never been there, and without a sound.


It was mid afternoon the next day before everything was set. Sentries were posted to watch for the Cuban/Mexican troops while the work was being done. Russell, Rick and many other men were in the bushes, behind hastily constructed almost invisible barricades to protect them, waiting for the enemy to show up. They knew from what Bill had told them that the enemy would come from the southwest. They set up firing points on an arch almost surrounding the area where they expected the enemy to set up camp. They only left the area they were to come from open, for their advance. The only left to do was wait.

It was getting late, and the sun was starting to set before they did arrive. As Russell had done, they posted sentries outside the camp. Out of the ten men, three went on duty as guards almost as soon as they had arrived. One of them remained within sight of the camp, while the other two walked just over the ridge lines it was set between. No sooner than they were out of sight from the camp, they were quietly killed.

"What do we do about that one?" Rick asked.

"Nothing, yet. When we call down for them to surrender if he gives up, we take him prisoner. If he tries to run for it, shoot him. By then the rest of them will know we are here." He turned and looked at George. "You're up. Make it loud and clear."

"Yes, Sir." He moved to the edge of the barricade, cleared his throat and shouted out to the men below in Spanish, demanding their surrender.

The remaining sentry turned and fired in the direction of the shout. Rifles from three different locations opened up. The man went down without a chance of ever getting up again. While that was happening the men in the camp grabbed their weapons and sought cover. Then they immediately started shooting wildly in all directions. With no other choice the men on the surrounding hill sides returned fire. It didn't last long for most of the invaders. They couldn't find shelter from the gunfire coming from so many places. Only one had found anything close to the desired protection. He had gotten next to the stones that had hidden the fire from view. Nobody could get a clear shot at him. He, on the other hand, alternated between cursing the men and swearing to kill them all, one by one, after it got dark and he could sneak out. The shooting continued for at least ten minutes with neither side able to gain the advantage. Suddenly there was an explosion in the fire pit the man was lying on top of. Very little was left of him.

"What happened?" Russell called out. "Who did that?"

A dark green box with a several colored buttons on one side seemed to fall from the sky right in front of Russell. He looked around and found Bill standing behind him, with Allen next to him.

"I did."

"Thank you, but how? And why?"

"Last night after you left, The Lord told me you might be needing some help. Allen and I did what we could. If they had lighted the fire before you got back, they would have done it to themselves."

"Where on earth did you get the bomb?"

"Them. They left some things cached here. That was an anti-tank mine. The Lord told me you know what that means."

"Yes, I do." The sight of the one he had dug up flashed before his eyes.

"Well, it's done now. I'd appreciate it if you people would clean up the mess before you leave. Otherwise there are some critters around here that are going to be well fed for awhile."

"We will. I want to check them for any information they might have before we bury them." He stopped briefly and then said, "Bill. If we don't have to be, we won't be back. You have my word."

He looked at Russell and told him something he wasn't expecting. "You are welcome back. The Lord doesn't talk about everyone. But you were named. Allen, let's go home."

"Right behind you, Dad." He reached out and took Russell's hand in his own. Shaking it he said, "Been an honor."

The two men once more seemed to vanish from view. Rick looked at Russell.

"It looks like you've made quite an impression. I don't think Bill has ever invited someone back to these woods."

"So it would seem. Come on, we have work to go."


The trip back to town was difficult in the dark, but not impossible. The men didn't use flash lights or lanterns, for fear of giving away their position to any other invaders who might have survived the quake and had made it this far. Information that had been gathered from the bodies seemed to indicate that there were other survivors and that they were in the process of staking out an area to hide in, until either rescue or re-enforcements could come. George went over what documents they could recover, but asked for more time to look at them in depth.

It was a bit before midnight when they finally got back to town. The men said good night to one another, but none spoke at all about what they had done. It was their first time engaging an enemy. Each was trying to come to terms with what he had done. Russell had seen it before, at Collins Corner. Talk was one thing. Dealing with the reality was something very different.

When he got back to the house on the Kelley property, he could see that there was still one lamp lit in the front room. Given the lateness of the hour he felt certain that Sandra had left it lighted for him when he got home. It was a careless thing to do with an oil lamp. He would have to talk with her about it in the morning. Right now, all he wanted was a little sleep. His boot thumped on the first step leading up to the porch. He was suddenly greeted by Sandra's voice.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Sandra. We just got back."

The front door flew open and Sandra rushed out to meet him. The next few moments were a confused mixture of hugs, crying and questions.

"Where have you been? What took you so long? Are you alright? I was starting to think I'd lost you too."

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy. I'm sorry it took so long. Those guys weren't punching a time clock. They didn't show up until late. I'm fine, no problems. Why don't we go inside?"

The two of them went into the house. Sandra never getting further than arms reach away from him. Before he could say anything else, she reached over to a table and picked up some papers that were there. She held them out to him.

"I told you I would have these ready. Russell, our relationship has been rather strange right from the beginning. If you don't want to sign these, I'll understand."

He took the papers and threw them back onto the table.

"Sandra, There is only one thing I want to do more than sign those. Come here."

She moved close, he pulled her even closer and they held the embrace and kiss much longer than was necessary. Finally he released her and asked a question.

"Do we have a pen, pencil or crayola around here?"


The wedding was held two days later. Mr. Kelley accepted the task of giving the bride away. Darrell acted as the best man and Shelly was the bridesmaid. The celebration lasted until late in the night. Everyone was amazed when Bill and Allen showed up, in proper attire, considering nobody could remember saying anything about the upcoming wedding. They both shook hands with each them, and with Russell's permission, Bill gave a kiss to the bride. Allen simply wished both of them well and God's blessings. It was during their first dance as man and wife that Sandra looked into Russell's eyes and told him what was on her mind.

"I wish Mom was here."

"Me too. But you know, in some way, I'm sure she is." He smiled at his new bride. "Either way, I'm sure she is happy right now."

"I like that idea." She smiled back at him. "Maybe we should name our first child after her."

"What if it's a boy?"

"That's easy. We name him Russell."

"We'll have to see about that one."

As they danced, Rick pulled the local commander to one side.

"What is it Rick?"

"A couple of things, Sir. First, there has been an earthquake or something at a place called Cumbre Vieja. It made for some kind of tsunami. The Russian forces all along the east coast have been all but wiped out."

"Thank The Lord for that. Maybe things can start to get back to normal."

"Sir, I wouldn't count on that. You see the second thing is these aliens have started to claim they created the human race."

"You've got to be kidding."

"I wish I was, Sir. What are we going to do?"

He looked back at the couple on the dance floor.

"For now, nothing. Those two deserve tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough."

[day late]

It was actually three days later before the commander sent for Russell. Even then he waited until the afternoon to do it. In a way, he was glad he waited that long. Not so much for the sake of the newlywed couple, but because during that time he had gotten the first message relayed to him from the 'space brothers' as they were calling themselves. How they could first claim to be the creators of mankind and then turn around and call themselves mankind's brothers he didn't understand, but it made for good public relations he supposed. The expected knock at the door came.

"Come in."

"Good afternoon, Sir. You sent for me?" Russell asked as he entered.

"Lieutenant. Good to see you. Please come in and have a seat." He waited until Russell had done so before going on. "I must say I'm sorry for stealing you away from your new bride, but there are some things we need to discuss."

"It's alright, Sir. It had to happen sooner or later. What is this all about?"

"I'm certain you have had other things on your mind, but have you heard anything about these so called space brothers?"

"Well, I've heard of them, of course. But I have to tell you I don't believe for a second they had anything to do with the creation of man kind. I mean if they are supposed to be so concerned about us, then why did they wait until now to return? Why didn't they do anything about people like Hitler, or Stalin? Why haven't they stepped in and stopped either of the world wars? This one too for that matter. No, Sir. I'm not buying what they are selling. I have a much different opinion of them."

"And what would that opinion be, if you don't mind my asking."

"Sir just before my mother passed away, she reminded me that the great deception, spoken of in The Bible, is about to begin. I think these guys are part of that. I believe them to be fallen angels sent here to deceive man into leaving their faith in Jesus Christ and into worshiping Satan. Or at the very least, the Anti-Christ."

"Good to hear we are on the same page there." He changed direction in mid sentence. "Have you had a chance to see what George has translated from the captured documents?"

"No Sir. I've been busy."

He smiled at Russell. "No doubt. Let me give you the long and short of it. From what George has been able to tell us, the patrol you encountered was just a small part of a larger force that somehow managed to survive the great quake. Those ones you encountered seem to have been patrolling the outer edges of what they consider to be their territory. I have to assume that since they haven't reported back in, the enemy knows they have been discovered. Or soon will, since we don't know how often those men reported in. Now as far as we can tell, we are dealing with a unit of about one or two companies in size. Possibly more. At least that is what we think. But right now I have two problems and I think you could be the answer to at least one of them. The question is, which one?"

"Sir, I'll do what I can on whichever you assign me."

"Tell me, how would you feel about going out to see Bill again?"

"I feel fine about it, Sir. Why do you want me to go?"

"I feel fairly certain that whoever is in charge is going to want to know what happened to his patrol. He will send more men. This time they will be more cautious. I'm also sure they will be even harder to spot. That's where we need Bill and his son. I don't know of anyone who can see without being seen better than them. The problem is they have pretty much given up on society and don't get involved with anything or anyone. I'm hoping that you can change that."

"Sir, I'll tell you right now, Bill won't get involved with anything if he feels The Lord has not told him to get involved with."

"I'm aware of that. I also know that he seems to hold you in high regard. I'm hoping that you can convince him that it is in every ones interest that he gets involved with this and helps out."

"I'll do what I can, Sir."

Later that day Russell once again climbed off the horse drawn wagon and headed off into the woods. He would have been surprised to know that the man who let him off turned to look after him, and wondered where he went and how he had disappeared so quickly. Unlike the first time he and Rick had gone into the hills, he no longer tried to climb up and down the slopes, but instead went around where and when he could. Even he noticed how much quieter he had become while making his way through the bush, although he still thought that he was being very loud. He moved into the area that he and Rick had occupied before, and decided to set up camp for the night.

Soon he had a simple lean-to set up and had fire wood ready for the night. Taking a hint from the men they had killed before, he made a fire pit with stones all around so that only a small amount of light was allowed to be seen, and that would have to be seen from a place higher than he was. He heated up a can of food while he waited for Bill or Allen, whoever showed up first. He was slightly surprised when he went to bed that night without having a visitor.

Russell got up the next morning, and prepared his breakfast. He kept the fire small, and quickly warmed his food so as to not fill the air with it's smell. After he finished, he put out the fire and sat in the quiet of the morning and thought about how best to find the men he was looking for. His shelter was almost impossible to see, even up close. The fire was out, and he was leaning back against a tree in camouflaged clothing, considering the question. Suddenly he heard something coming through the brush. He quietly drew back into the cover around him and waited. Almost before he knew it, Bill stepped out of the bush and into the camp. He looked around, and his eye's fell on Russell. This time he actually did smile.

"I was right. You are good. What can I do for you Russell?"

"You can talk with me. It seems we need your help again."

"That so?"

"Yes, it is."

"What is it?"

"A couple of things actually. We found out those people were only a part of a larger force. We're pretty sure they will send more looking for them."

"Already figured that. Allen and I have been watching for them since the fire fight. What else is there?"

"Can we count on you to give us a heads up if they come around again?"

"Seems to me that The Lord has already made that choice. What is the other thing?"

"Have you heard about the aliens?"

"The 'space brothers'? Yeah, we know. Russell we may have withdrawn from the rest of the world, but we still have a radio, so we know what's going on."

"How do you get batteries for it?"

"We don't need them. It's a wind up type."

"Bill, the way I see it, there are going to be a lot of people, believers mostly, that are going to want to avoid them any way they can. We are going to need some way to keep them out of sight. Would you have any ideas of how we could do that?"

"What makes you think I should help? That's inviting Babylon into my back yard."

"Well, the Book of Revelation talks about this kind of thing. It says;

Rev 12:14 And to the woman were given two wings of a great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent.

Now if the woman is the church, and considering America is represented by the eagle and this certainly is the wilderness, then maybe you and I have a responsibility to hide the Body of Christ somewhere out here."

Bill studied him for a moment. "At least you didn't try to make me believe I had some sort of civic duty. You know the scriptures, that's why I like you. I can't say I'm convinced, but you make a good case. I'll pray about that part of it. Let you know what The Lord says later. About the invaders, let's just say we are on the same side. We see something, we'll get you word."

"Thank you. Where is Allen anyway? I hope he's alright."

Bill smiled again. "You're good, but not good enough. Not just yet."

Russell jumped as he felt a hand grab him from behind, by the shoulder. A voice said, "Got you."

Russell glanced backwards and found Allen grinning at him. He looked at Bill.

"So, what happened with you? You taught him."

Bill sighed. "Don't get old Russell. Some times you get careless or a little too curious. But that won't happen again, I promise you. You taught me a valuable lesson today. Some folks either are or can learn to be just like Allen and myself. I got over confident."

"Well, if we are right, we won't have the chance to get much older. Either we will be overcome by the anti-christ, or we will make it to the final trump."

"Let's pray for the second." Bill shook Russell's hand. "We'll be in touch. And congratulations again on your marriage. You have a beautiful bride. Love her well."

"I do already."

Russell made it back by early afternoon, and went to see the commander right away.

"How did it go, Lieutenant? Is Bill going to help us?"

"All I can tell you for certain is that he and Allen are going to be watching for any more Cubans. As for the rest, we will have to wait and see."

"Not too long I hope."

"Same here, Sir. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to get cleaned up and find out if my wife missed me as much as I missed her."

"Go ahead. And don't you dare report back for duty for at least twenty four hours."

"I won't. And thank you, Sir."

Later that evening Russell sat with his arms around Sandra as they talked.

"You know, I think a lot of people have misunderstood Bill and Allen."

"How do you mean?"

"At first I was given to believe that he was an ornery old so and so. That's not true at all. If you approach him on his level he's really quite friendly."

"So what do you think makes him so different?"

"To tell you the truth, I think he's not so different at all. He is what more people should be. A real student of the scriptures, and one who takes them seriously. He looks after himself and his son, and he is willing to help out wherever he is needed as long as he believes that what he is doing is in the will of God."

"Aren't we the same? After all you did your best for everyone back home. You never let anyone else do anything that you weren't willing to do yourself."

"I guess it is a matter of our individual calling. I was called to 'stand in the gap' and do what I could. Bill has a different calling."

"Living out in the woods doesn't sound like a calling to me. It sounds more like hiding."

"John the Baptist wasn't hiding. but when your diet is wild locusts and honey and your clothing is animal skins, you have to be pretty far out there in the wilds. But he was always ready to do what he could. I think Bill and Allen, like John, have been called to prepare the way for those who will follow."

"I hadn't thought of that. Maybe you're right."

"Time will tell, I guess."

"Speaking of time, it's getting a little late. Why don't we go to bed?"

"It's only eight thirty."

"I know." She smiled at him.

"Oh. I guess you're right. I'll meet you there."

Russell woke the next morning to find Sandra leaning on one elbow looking at him.

"Good morning." He said.

"Same to you."

"Am I in trouble or something?"

"Or something. I was thinking of how I could show you how much I love you."

"I thought you did that last night."

"I thought we showed each other last night. No, I was thinking of something a little more special."

"Like what?"

"Well, we've been married almost a week now, and I've never brought you breakfast in bed. Why don't you stay here and I'll be back in a few minutes?"

"Sounds good to me."

She got out of bed and put on a robe. Then she headed for the bedroom door. Russell rolled over onto his back and said a prayer, thanking God for the wonderful woman He had brought into his life. He had barely finished the prayer before Sandra backed up into the bedroom, clutching at her robe. Her eye's were fixed on something in the living room.

"What is it?" He asked.

"We have company."

Russell jumped up, quickly put on his pants and grabbed the pistol he kept under his pillow. He gently pushed past Sandra and carefully walked down the short hallway until he could see the livingroom area. Sitting in a chair was Allen. He lowered the weapon and asked.

"What's going on Allen? Didn't your father teach you to knock?"

"Sorry. I thought it best not to let a lot of people know I was here."

"Why not? You could have at least let us know. You almost got shot."

"We have problems."

"What kind of problems?"

"The Cubans are coming back, in force. And this time they aren't alone."

"What do you mean?"

"There has to be forty of them this time, and they have someone with them."

"Who?"

"Looks like the 'space brothers' are taking an interest in us. There is one, I reacon you could call him a guy, who has to be over nine feet tall. Dad says he must be one of them."

Russell's mind was almost overcome by the idea.

"How do you know he isn't just a really tall man?"

"I said I thought you could call him a guy. But outside of two arms, two legs and a head, there isn't much else you could call human."

"Do you know what that could mean?"

"Yep. So does Dad. That's why he wants you to come to our house."

"I thought nobody got to come to your house."

"Most don't get invited. Dad thinks you're different."

"What about you?"

"I know you're different. You really believe. THAT is different. Will you come?"

"I'd like to have breakfast and tell my wife what's happening. Have you eaten?"

"I could use a bite or two."

"Then, let me ask you to join us."

"I'd really like that."

It was several hours later that Allen and Russell came through a break in the brush, and Russell actually saw nothing. Allen walked towards what seemed to be a blank wall on a cliff face. As he reached it, he suddenly turned left and disappeared from view. It was as if he had walked right into the cliff it's self. Russell came closer and found that an outcropping of rock hid the opening to a cave. He entered the opening and found the last thing he expected. Inside was a nice, clean and comfortable home. The lights, he found out later, were powered by solar panels hidden on the hill above. The place was very roomy and the furniture, while home made, was very comfortable. Bill came out of another opening in the wall and greeted Russell.

"Glad you could make it. Tell me, what do you know about shooting black powder weapons?"

[day late]

Russell was caught off guard by the question.

"I know a little. First put in the powder, then the patch and then the ball. After that it depends if you're talking about a flintlock or percussion weapon. You have to fill the pan on a flintlock and use a cap on a percussion. Why do you ask?"

"Good to see you have a grasp of things. We are going to need these black powder weapons in the near future. Come with me, if you will." Bill turned and walked into another section of the cave. Russell followed and found himself in a type of work shop. Tools and various pieces of equipment were around the room, and Bill led him to one thing he didn't recognize. It stood about three feet high and at a distance looked rather strange. The bottom half was a heavy duty metal table that was securely bolted to the floor. The upper section was circular and appeared to be hollow. As he got closer he could tell the bucket looking object contained a piece of equipment he had no clue as to what it was.

"Ever seen one of these before?" Bill asked.

"Can't say that I have. Are you sure it's safe? It looks like there are burn marks in there."

"It's safe as long as you know what you are doing. And the burn marks are supposed to be there. This is my 'broken arm' casting machine and well." He turned and pointed at a large metal box-like device against the wall. "That is my burn out oven. To make a long story short, using this equipment and a couple of other things I can cast just about any metal object you care to name. That includes round balls for shooting the black powder rifles and pistols we have."

"Why not modern weapons?"

"Have you tried getting ammo for them lately? I can make black powder. I can even make the percussion caps. I can't make modern ammunition."

"So how do you make the balls?"

"First I use this." Bill held up a device that had a sectioned metal block that was held together by a hinge on one side and two long wooden handles on the other. He opened it for Russell's inspection. He saw the inside of the block had two ball shaped cavities with a small funnel shape leading into each one. "I pour melted wax into these little funnels and let it get hard. Then I remove them from the bullet mold and invest them in one of these." He picked up a metal tube. "It's called a casting ring. I'll show you how later. Here is one that is ready to go." He picked up another ring and held it out. Russell inspected it closely and found on one side there was another funnel type shape. In the center of it he could see what looked like wax.

"So how does the wax become a metal ball?"

"The ring is put in the burn out oven at very high temperature. The wax burns away, hence the name. Now, while that is going on I get the casting machine ready. It is spring operated, so I wind it up and block it from spinning with this small bar." He reached into the well and showed it to him. "Watch." Bill then wound the top portion of the machine five times and raised the bar, locking it into place. "Next a crucible is placed into the carrier for it on the arm." It slid into place. "Finally I put my metal in the crucible, and melt it with a oxy-acetylene torch." He took some shiny pieces of yellowish orange looking metal and placed them in the crucible. Russell was at first almost shocked.

"Are you melting down gold for this?"

"No. Copper. That is what we are going to need. Now I have a ring in the oven that's ready to go but I don't want it to cool down before the copper is melted, so I start with that."

He ignited the torch and adjusted the flame until it was blue in color. Then he began to melt the copper. Once it had reached a point where it was completely liquid he opened the oven with a long pair of metal tongs and grabbed the ring inside. It was glowing cherry red. He placed it into a cradle in the end of the casting machine arm and using the tongs, with the opening he had seen before facing the crucible, Bill slid the crucible up to it, as far as it would go.

"Now we throw a little more heat on the copper to make sure it hasn't cooled too much." He did so, and putting the tongs to one side grabbed the cool end of the casting machine arm and pulled it back just far enough for the locking bar to fall out of the way. He glanced at Russell. "You might want to take a step back. Sometimes the metal blows right through the bottom of the ring and goes everywhere."

Russell moved back and watched closely. Bill leaned over and suddenly released the arm. The powerful spring inside the machine set it to spinning faster that he could see. The centrifugal force shot the melted copper though a hole in the end and into the heated mold. As the arm slowed to a stop a couple of minutes later, the ring had stopped glowing, but what he could see of the copper was still very bright. Bill reached in and grabbed it with the tongs and moved it to a metal cooling shelf he had nearby.

"When that cools down, we can break it out, cut off the piece of copper that is from the sprue hole in the investment and we will have two more copper bullets to use, since I cast them two at a time."

"Wouldn't lead be easier to work with? Why cast these things out of copper?"

"Allen told you about the 'space brother' that is with the Cubans coming this way, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"I believe that creature is demonic. Like in the time of Noah, it is a product of fallen angels and human women. The only way I know of to put them down, is with a copper bullet to the brain. It is poisonous to them for some reason. But even that doesn't finish it. After they are down, we need to cut off the head."

"That seems a little extreme, doesn't it?"

"What did David do to Goliath? The stone put him down, but he wasn't dead until the head was taken off. We need to do the same thing." Bill paused. "Look, I know this isn't nice and clean. It is going to be very nasty and unpleasant work, but there is no other way as far as I know."

"How did you learn all of this?"

"The casting was just a matter of study. About these 'long walkers' as they are called, I learned about them from a very good watchman for Jesus Christ named Steven ******. He used to have a broadcast on shortwave radio. I listened to him for years. He is quite intelligent and very learned."

"'Long walkers'? Why are they called that?"

"If you stood over nine feet tall you'd have a rather long stride too. And that brings up another problem we will have to face. They are extremely fast. If you don't get them with the first shot, there is a good chance you won't get a second."

"You mentioned having copper balls for black powder pistols. If you only get one shot, why have the pistol?"

"Backup. The truth is, if you get that close you don't have much of a chance. Most likely you'll only get one shot with the pistol if you get a shot at all. But it is better than nothing."

"Sounds like we don't have much of a chance at all."

"That's not quite true. First of all, we have The Lord. Secondly there are a couple of other things you should know. Large amounts of smoke make them giddy. Like they are drunk or stoned. Also cold slows them down. You see their body temperature is higher than ours. So cold affects them badly."

"So why are you telling me all of this?"

"One way or another, we are all going to have to deal with this. Right now my thought is that when we meet this one who is with the Cubans, we are going to need to have multiple weapons to take him on. If the first shot misses, then the second person shoots while the first one is reloading. If necessary, the third one shoots while the first two are reloading. It takes a while to reload a black powder weapon. Back in the day, a well trained soldier could get off only three aimed shots a minute."

"And you want me to shoot one of those weapons, right?"

"That's it."

"If we have to cut off the head, what about the Cubans with him? They aren't going to just stand by and watch all of this happen."

"That's where the militia comes in. They need to take them out or drive them off at the same time we go after the 'long walker'."

"You know this is going to be a hard sell, don't you?"

"I have faith in you. That's why you were invited here in the first place."

"How long do we have before they get here?"

"A day, no more. The militia are really going to have to be minute men tonight. I can show you where to set up, but they are going to have to do their part if we are going to stand any chance of pulling this off. And you have to convince the commander he needs to do it."

"Gee, thanks Bill. Don't you have any hard jobs for me?"

"Just getting back to town on your own. Allen and I have things to do. You guys need to be at the camp the Cubans were using at first light. We will guide you to your positions."


"Sir, if you want to keep the enemy from coming here, you have to do as Bill says." Russell was right. It was a hard sell to the commander.

"Alright, assuming I believe you and Bill, what makes it so important for someone else to take over your platoon? Your men trust you, not someone else."

"Sir, you said you needed Bill's help. This is part of the price. He wants me for back up. Besides, what if I don't come back from a mission? I think it's better to find out who can handle my platoon now, rather than later."

"You've got a point there. But I can't say I like it. You've done quite a job with that platoon. The men respect you." He thought about it for a long moment, and then asked. "Who do you want to take over?"

"I think George has shown a lot of improvement, and he speaks Spanish. That just might come in handy."

"Alright, let him know and get your people on the move. I'll have Rick's platoon right behind you."

"Yes Sir. And try to make sure it is right behind us. Bill isn't going to hang around waiting for late comers."

That had been a couple of hours before. Now Russell, George, his men, and even Rick with his platoon sat in the dark waiting for either Bill or Allen to show up at the camp. Russell listened closely for any sound that might let him know they were on the way. Allen's hand closed gently on his shoulder.

"Ready?"

"I wish you would stop doing that. Yeah, we're ready."

"Let's go."

The men were quietly alerted and moved out of the camp area. Allen headed southwest of the camp, which Russell expected, since that was the direction the Cubans had always come from. Again he marveled at how Allen moved through the brush as loud as a whisper. Hard as he tried, he just couldn't match it. He did hear the men following them. They sounded like rampaging bulls in comparison. It was only two miles until they came upon a ravine where Allen stopped, gave a soft whistle and waited. The call of a Mockingbird answered him.

"This way."

Allen turned off the trail they had been following and moved along the ridge line. Soon Bill was standing in front of them. He handed Russell two loaded black powder rifles and a revolver.

"Have your men take positions along this ridge. They are going to be coming through down below us. Then you come with me."

"Right. George, spread them out along this line. Wait for my command before anyone starts to shoot."

"Yes Sir. Alright you guys, you heard the man. Get into position and get still. No point in letting them know we're here."

The men moved quickly into positions along the ridge and began to hide themselves. Twice George stepped in and told some of them they were too close together and to spread out more, which they did without complaint.

"Bill, are we taking out the 'walker' first, last or in the middle?" Russell wanted to know.

"First. We'll put him down, and that should demoralize the real men. Then your people open up and do what you came to do. Once they are finished, we'll have to make certain that 'walker' never walks again."

"Got you. George, the signal to fire will be just after you hear these black powder rifles go off. You won't be able to miss it. Get with the men, get down and get ready."

"Yes Sir." George moved off into the night.

"Where do we set up, Bill?"

"Towards the end of the ravine, behind some rocks. If we need the extra shots, I want that thing coming uphill at us. It just might give us the time we'll be needing right about then."

"How long do you think we have?"

"Maybe an hour. Good thing your guys showed up early. Come on."

They moved quietly to the end of the ravine and settled down behind some boulders that were there. Bill looked at his son and said, "Your right. He does show promise. He's gotten a lot quieter."

"Yeah, but he still needs to learn how to listen. I touched him again tonight."

"We'll work on that."

After that they quit speaking and waited as the sun began to lighten the eastern sky. Russell took the hint from Allen's words and listened to his surroundings carefully. He realized that the noises he'd heard earlier from various creatures were different that the ones he heard in the day. It suddenly hit him. Now he knew how Allen knew where his father had been in the dark. Mockingbirds were day time creatures. One of them wouldn't be calling at night. As night changed to day he also noticed that for a short time there were almost no noises at all. The nocturnal animals and birds were bedding down for the day, while the day time creatures hadn't gotten up and started to stir around yet. It was both beautiful and strange at the same time. He heard a real Mockingbird sound, and noticed in the not too far distance movement in the brush. Something big was out there. And it was headed his way.

[day late]

He could see that the men on the ridge were aware of something coming. They were good men, but this was something different. Trees that normally wouldn't be touched by men moving through the woods were swaying back and forth. The men were not liking this one bit. Russell had told them what he knew of the enemy before the start of the mission, but hearing about it and then seeing this were completely different things. Still, they stood their ground. They all knew what they were expected to face. In a word, it was evil. None of them was ready to fail The Lord, and they all said silent prayers under their breath for courage.

Russell also prayed for the courage to face what was coming. While the men would be engaging the Cubans, he was the one that would be making the first shot in the fight. And he was going to be shooting at the long walker. If he missed, things could get very bad in a hurry. He watched the movement intently, and tried to guess where the creature would come out into the open as he leveled his rifle. So he was surprised when several Cubans were the first to show themselves. He thought quickly. What to do if the monster was bringing up the rear of the advance? They had assumed it would be in the lead. This wasn't good. He held his breath and waited to see what would happen next. The Cubans walked a short distance into the open area and spread out on a line going from his left to right. They moved forward a short way and one of them called a halt. They all knelled down where they were and one of them spoke softly into a radio.

The large object started forward, crashing through the brush. It was no wonder. Bushes that he knew had to be six feet high only came up to a little above waist high on the beast, as it too came out into the open. The first thing he realized was good for him, and bad. The wind was in his face, so he wouldn't be smelled. And bad because the creature stank badly. To him it was like old death, freshly warmed over. It was terrible and he wanted to throw up. Allen had been right. It had the usual compliment of arms, legs and a head, but after that nothing came close to resembling a man. The body was disproportionate in every respect. The head looked more like that of a wolf than of a human.

Russell raised the rifle and carefully aimed at the head. He squeezed the trigger and heard the one thing that every black powder shooter dreads. There was a loud POP, but no bang. The cap had fired, but something had prevented it from igniting the powder in the barrel. Every enemy head swiveled to look in his direction, unsure of what they had heard. Since the rifle hadn't actually fired none of the men on the ridge was sure of what to do either. They weren't even certain anyone had tried to shoot the monster. They held their fire. The creature started to move up the ravine towards him and the others, very quickly. Yet his movements seemed to be effortless.

Russell dropped the now useless rifle and reached for the second one, Bill had given him. As his hand closed around in, Allen's rifle went off, followed immediately by Bill's. Incredibly, Allen's bullet hit the head, but at an angle. It bounced off and left a furrow in the flesh. It did knock the thing down, but didn't kill it. Because of the beast falling as it did, Bill's round missed completely. It seemed to be unconscious, and Russell started to take aim for a second shot. It was then that everything happened. The smoke from the black powder weapons had given away their position to the Cubans, who opened fire on them, as one of them shouted into the radio.

Hearing the first two shots, and the radio call for help, more of the Cubans came out of the brush. They quickly figured out where their the companions were firing and joined in. That is when the men on the ridge started shooting at the enemy below. With fire coming from an unexpected direction, they were caught in a bad position. They had expected fire to come from their front and had sought cover from the expected area of return fire. When it came from the side they were caught in the open. Most of them went down in the first volley of fire. Some few managed to retreat back into the woods, but most of the rest were soon killed. Seeing some of the Cubans escaping, George pulled about half of the platoon off the line and gave chase.

During the fight, Russell, Bill and Allen had kept their heads down. With their antique weapons they didn't have any other choice. The occasional shot would still bounce off of the boulders they had sheltered behind. But all three knew their job wasn't finished. As the shooting started to fade away, Russell called to the others.

"Volley fire. On my command."

He waited only briefly and shouted "Aim." The three of them stood and aimed their weapons at the downed creature. "Fire." This time all three weapons worked perfectly. Three copper balls slammed into the skull of the thing, which had begun to stir. It slumped back down to the ground and stopped moving. Bill pulled out a long and very sharp machete. He looked at his son.

"Let's finish this."

Together they moved down the slope. When they reached the body, Bill moved to one side, raised the blade high above his head and brought it down with all the force he had. It took several strokes to remove the head from the body. When it was done, Allen kicked it, a number of times, and rolled down the hill. Russell noticed death didn't do anything to improve the smell.

"Tell me Bill, how many of these things have you killed now?" Russell asked.

"One."

"One? But I thought you'd done this before."

"I never said that. I only said that I had learned about these things."

Russell shook his head and smiled. "I'm glad you didn't tell me that before. I might have gotten nervous."

"Well, I was nervous enough for both of us. What happened to your men? Looks like some of them are missing."

"I guess I better find out."

The sound of shooting had grown more distant and Russell could see that a number of the men were missing. Rick had the rest of the men checking to make sure that the enemy soldiers were as dead as they appeared to be. He asked Rick where everyone else had gone, and if they had any who were injured.

"We're all fine, Sir. George took off after the ones who were trying to get out of here. He took some of the men with him." He paused briefly and then pointed at the downed beast. "What is that thing anyway? I've never seen anything like it."

"The Bible says that just as it was in the days of Noah, so it will be in the end times. From everything I've ever heard or read of the subject, they had these things back then. That's why The Lord flooded the earth."

"Well if there were a lot of those things around, I sure can understand why He did it."

"I guess we all understand a little better today. Rick I'm getting concerned about George and the men with him. I don't hear any more shooting, but I don't see them coming back either. If you are done here, I want to take some of these men and go find them."

"I'll take care of it Sir. To tell the truth even dead and decapitated that gives me the creeps. And I could stand a breathe of fresh air too."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. He stinks. Alright, you find them, but don't take any chances. I want everyone to sleep at home tonight."

"Yes, Sir."

A few minutes later, after the were certain the Cubans wouldn't be a threat to anyone, Rick left four men with Russell and then he and the rest left to find the others. Unlike George and those with him, Rick and his men moved carefully and as quietly as possible. They didn't know what they might find and they did want to sleep at home that night.

One of the men who had remained walked over to Russell with the Cuban radio in his hands.

"Sir. We were checking them for any information we might be able to find, and I'm afraid unless you know someone that is an electronics expert with lots of parts this thing has sent it's last message."

He held it out for Russell's inspection. It had taken a number of hits in the fight. He could hear broken bits and pieces rattle around inside of it as he looked it over.

"Well at least we know what frequency they've been using." He said looking at the dial setting. "That's something I guess. But if there are any left, I'm sure they will change it and use another. Did you get anything else from them?"

He looked up at the man when he didn't answer. The man was looking like he wanted to be sick and couldn't pry his eyes away from the monster.

"Hello? Anybody home?" He tapped him on the arm.

"What? Oh. Sorry, Sir. We didn't get much. One of them had a map, but Rick took that with him." He glanced back at the down headless body. "Sir? Do you think there are many more of those things?"

"I hope not, but probably yes there are. Satan got a third of the angels in Heaven to follow him. This thing is the offspring of one of them and a human woman. So how many angels are there in Heaven? We'll never know how many this side of Judgment Day. But at least we know we can kill them."

Bill spoke up.

"They are coming back. And somethings wrong."

"How can you tell?"

"They are being noisier than usual."

"Are you sure it's our people?"

"Unless the Cubans have switched to English, it's them."

They waited and before long men started to appear. Some of them had to be helped back to the battle area. Blood was soaking into their clothing. In his rashness, George hadn't been as careful as he should have been. Russell question Rick.

"How bad is it, and where is George?"

"Mostly light wounds. George took one in the stomach. They are making something to carry him on."

""What happened?"

"From what I'm been able to figure out, the retreating Cubans set up a hasty ambush and these guys ran into it. Fortunately they managed to get to cover for the most part. There are a few more Cubans down there who are going to be staying, but I'm pretty sure some of them got away."

"Well we'll have to worry about that later. Besides with the losses they've just been handed, I don't think they are going to want to try us again any time soon. It's not like they can get more men and weapons. Let's start getting these men back to town. I'll send someone ahead to see about transport for the more seriously injured."

One of them was told to leave everything behind except his pistol and make it to the nearest source of transportation, and sent on his way. The men who were either uninjured or only slightly were set to the task of collecting weapons, ammo and whatever else that could be found that might prove useful in the future. The men carrying George finally showed up with him on an improvised stretcher. As they set him down, Russell went over to speak to him.

"George, there's been quite a change in you since we first met. Most of it good. But what on earth did you think you were doing?"

"Sorry, Sir. I guess I was to scared to think clearly?"

"You were scared and so you go chasing them through the woods?"

"I didn't want them to come back. I figured after they lost that thing, they might just find another one, or more, and come back for revenge. That scared me stupid and I had to try to stop them."

"It looks like all but stopped you. How are you doing?"

"It hurts, but I'm pretty sure I'll live. I'm sorry Sir. I didn't mean for this to happen. How is everyone else?"

"You are the worst one hurt. They will be okay. George, next time you get scared like that, talk to me before you go running off half cocked again."

"You got it, Sir."

[day late]

It was much later in the afternoon when the men returned to town. The man sent to find transportation for the wounded had come back with a horse drawn wagon that had enough room for all of the more seriously wounded. With his warning of what had happened, the owner of the wagon sent his son into town to inform everyone of what was going on. Darrell didn't wait for them to come to him, he rode out to meet them on a bicycle to attend to the wounded. He handed his bike to one of the men with a request he hold on to it and climbed into the wagon, with his medic's kit, to see to the men. Everyone was surprised when shortly after that Cindy also came riding up on a bicycle, carrying supplies that might be needed and did likewise. Together they treated the men, with special attention being given to George.

By the time they reached town, people were lining the road, to find out if any of their loved ones had been injured. The wagon was drawn up in front of a local clinic for the men to be off loaded and taken inside for further examination and any necessary treatment. Those who hadn't found their loved ones among the uninjured waited for them at the door. Darrell had a hard time convincing wife's, mothers, and others that he needed room to work and they had to leave. It was Cindy who finally got through to them. She stepped up onto a box and addressed the crowd.

"LOOK. You people need to understand. Darrell is doing all he can, but he is only one man. The more you distract him, the less he can do. So who wants their father or brother to suffer because he was answering questions when he should have been treating people?"

Obviously nobody volunteered. The commotion died down. Treatment of the injured men went on smoothly after that. Russell was a bit surprised when as he was helping to unload the injured men he heard his name called. He turned, just in time to catch Sandra in his arms.

"Why didn't you tell me that you are okay? Are you okay? Why didn't you come see me first?"

"Whoa! Take it easy. I haven't had a chance. I'm fine. But we need to take care of these guys first."

She looked around at what was going on. "Alright. I understand. But you come home as soon as you can."

"You bet."

Later that evening as they sat together, Sandra asked about the events of the day.

"Honey, I've got to tell you. There was something really strange about that thing. I mean the closer it got, the more afraid I became. Sure it was big and ugly, but there was no real reason for it. He hadn't done anything to us. We were ready for him, but I was scared almost out of my wits. I really think those things kind of broadcast fear wherever they go."

"It must have been terrible." She shifted into a more comfortable position in his arms and spoke again. "But that brings up something I wanted to talk to you about. Do you remember how Mom told us that we would serve The Lord together?"

He nodded.

"So far, you've been the only one doing anything. I think it is past time for me to get involved."

"I remember what Mom said, and I understand what you mean, but I've got to tell you I'm happy you weren't out there today."

"From what I've heard, so am I. Still there has to be a way for me to help out. I really feel the need to do something."

"Is that you, or a prompting from The Lord?"

"A little of both I think."

"Then there is only one thing to do. We have to make it a matter of prayer tonight. See what He wants us to do."

They spent the rest of the evening and well into the night praying about it. It wasn't until morning before they got the unexpected answer. Sandra woke to find herself alone in bed. She started to get up, as Russell came through the door with a tray in his hands.

"Good morning, Sweetheart." He say cheerfully. "It's my turn to bring you breakfast in bed. After all, you've been doing it for me."

She sat back in the bed and smiled at him.

"I won't argue. This is kind of nice, for once."

"My pleasure."

He set the tray on the bed and joined her in a cup of coffee. They chatted while she ate, and soon Russell brought up the subject from the night before.

"So, have you heard anything about last night?"

"I haven't heard anything, but I have this feeling we were heard and the answer is coming soon."

"I just hope it isn't going to involve you carrying a rifle."

"I guess we'll find out." She turned her head, listening intently. "Did you hear something?"

"Like what?"

"I think someone is at the door."

"I'll check." He got up and went down the hall towards the front door. Then he heard it too. Someone was knocking, gently, but at the back door. He turned around and walked to it. Thinking it was a bit odd that someone was in back instead of out front. He only cracked the door slightly and looked out. Allen was standing there. He looked up at Russell and smiled.

"I learned my lesson. May I come in?"

Opening the door wide he said, "Sure, come on in."

Russell walked down the hallway in front of Allen, stopping briefly at the bed room door. He stuck his head in and announced their visitor.

"Honey, Allen is here." Then he firmly closed the door for privacy's sake and continued on. Russell told Allen to take a seat, and offered to get him something to either eat or drink.

"No thanks. I'm a little short on time."

"What's going on? Why did you come to see me this early?"

"I didn't."

"No?"

"No. I need to see your wife."

"What do you need to see me for?" Sandra asked as she entered and sat next to her husband.

"Good morning, Mrs. Porter. Something happened last night while Dad and I were praying. We had a visitor."

"I thought nobody knows where you live." Russell commented.

"Besides you, only God knows. Our visitor is named Michael."

"Michael? You mean THE Michael? The Commander of The Lord's host."

"One and the same."

"That must have been frightening." Sandra said.

"Startling is more like it." Allen told her. "There wasn't anything menacing about it. He was just there. He told us that you need to help us, Mrs. Porter. And we need to help you. The great deception has begun and you are needed to handle some things."

"Please, call me Sandra. Mrs. Porter was Russell's mother."

He smiled. "Just being polite, Sandra."

"So do you have any idea of what The Lord wants done?" Russell asked.

"All I'm ready to say right now is that Sandra must come to our place. Everything will be explained there. Russell you are welcome to join us, but Sandra is the one who MUST come. That is what we were told."

The couple looked at each other. No discussion was needed.

"What kind of clothes am I going to need?" She asked him.

"Jeans, a good shirt and a comfortable pair of boots. It's a little ways back in the woods, and it's not easy to get to there."

"Are you coming? I mean if you don't have anything else going on."

"Try to stop me."

Rather that take the usual horse drawn wagon, Allen led them through the countryside. Russell soon realized that by taking certain trails that went though it,instead of the long way going around the mountain, it was almost as fast as taking the wagon. But you had better be in good shape before making the trip. It took a little over two hours to get to the drop off point by wagon. Then you still had to fight your way uphill to the cave/home of Bill and Allen. Going across country they managed the trip in about two and a half hours. And for most of it they were well out of sight of the road. It was no wonder nobody could ever track the two men to their home. When they got close to the entrance, Russell pulled Sandra close to his side and told her,

"Watch this. Allen is going to disappear."

She looked at him wonderingly, and then turned her attention back to Allen, just in time to see him vanish from view as he entered the cave. She let out a small gasp, and Russell led her to the entrance. Once inside, they waited as Allen called his father. Just as before, he came into the room from another cavern that was just off the main room. He smiled at them and greeted them.

"Glad to see you could both make it. Mrs. Porter, welcome to our home."

"Please, call me Sandra." She told him as she had told his son.

"Very well. But you must call me Bill. Please, take a seat." He offered them the couch sitting to one side of the room. "So, did Allen explain everything to you?"

"He told us that I need to help you, and you need to help me. He also mentioned that the Arch Angel Michael paid you a visit. Beyond that, not much else." Sandra answered.

"Then let me explain. Tell me. Do either of you know what I did for a living before Allen and I left the rest of the world behind?"

"I don't have a clue." Russell answered.

"Neither do I." Said Sandra.

"Well, I was a Realtor. And a very successful one I might add. I made deals that made me a great deal of money. When The Lord got a hold on Allen and myself and we decided to move out of Babylon, I had a good idea of where to go. I bought this mountain for a very good price. At first I had planned to build a cabin out here and live the real mountain man type of life. On the first day here, I shot a deer. It wasn't a clean kill, and I had to trail it. I followed the blood trail through the door you two came in. That's how I found this place. I found out later, after a lot of research, that during the late fifties and early sixties the government had built many shelters to protect at least certain people in the event of a nuclear war between the U.S. and the former Soviet Union. After awhile this place was abandoned and then forgotten. It doesn't show up in any of the records, anywhere. When I bought the mountain, this place came with it."

"Bill, that is good for you and Allen, but what does that have to do with us or anyone else?" Sandra wanted to know.

"That's why Michael says The Lord wants you here. You see, this home is just the escape hatch for what is buried deeper in the mountain. There is enough room to house about two hundred to two hundred and fifty people down there in the bomb shelter. That's where you come in Sandra."

"How So?"

"When the great deception comes into full swing, real believers are going to need a place to hide. I have the place to put them, but you have to help out a bit. AND we, that is Allen and I, have to figure a way to get them here without making it obvious."

"You want me to be a maid for two hundred and fifty people?"

"Oh no. Nothing like that. But we are going to need someone to co-ordinate everything. Who sleeps where, who uses the kitchen when or do we just make a bunch of people cooks and feed everyone in shifts, that sort of thing. No, not a maid. More like a manager."

"Why me? It seems like there would have to be someone better qualified than I am."

"Because you are the one that Michael said should do it."

"What about Michael? I mean are you really sure it was him and not just a deception being used on you?"

Allen answered that one.

"Oh, we are sure all right. Dad made him promise us that Jesus is the Son of God, before we listened to a thing he had to say."

"Promise? Why not swear it to you?"

"Jesus said not to swear.

Mat 5:34 But I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God's throne:

Mat 5:35 Nor by the earth; for it is his footstool: neither by Jerusalem; for it is the city of the great King.

Mat 5:36 Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black.

Mat 5:37 But let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.

But no servant of Satan will say that Jesus is Lord. So, I make them promise in the name of God."

"Actually Michael seemed to be pleased about being questioned like that." Allen said.

"I see." Sandra got quiet for a few moments, thinking about what was to come. "Bill, there are a number of problems I can see, right from the start. First of all, how are you going to get that many people in the shelter? I can't see you and Allen parading them through here. You'd lose all your privacy. Another thing is what do we do with them once they get here? I mean having that many people crowded together under ground is going to cause other problems. Cabin fever for example. People who are just sitting around doing nothing will be driven them crazy. Then there is the matter of food. I'm sure the government wouldn't go through all the trouble of building this place and not have a water supply, but even long term storage food goes bad after awhile. Then the matter of lights, air, medical facilities and sanitation come to mind."

Bill smiled at Russell. "You married a good one. In just a couple of minutes she has figured out the worst problems and asked the most important questions. And all off the cuff. No wonder The Lord wants her for the job."

"I'm proud of her."

Together they talked about the situation for most of the rest of the day. Bill explained the lay out of the shelter. It had a total of five floors. The lowest one housed generators for lighting and recirculating the air. Above that were two floors for sleeping and housing for the people seeking shelter. the upper two floors were conference rooms, a miniature hospital, the kitchen and the mess hall. It also had a garage on the upper most level. Access to these facilities were on the other side of the mountain from the part used by Bill and Allen. There was a large and well hidden door that could only be opened from the inside, which was made even harder to find by years and years of a lack of use.

"Are you sure this thing will even open any more?" Sandra asked.

"Oh, yes. It works. Allen and I have maintained it over the years. We can take quite a few people at one time through that door."

"What's on the other side? I don't know if there are any roads in the area."

"There is one about a half mile away. That's not too far to walk. But it is far enough that everyone is going to have to plan carefully about what they want to bring with them. They will have to be made to understand that this is a shelter, not a vacation resort. Everything is going to have to be bare bones. We won't be able provide for people's every desire. They have to understand that."

"That is probably going to be one of our biggest problems. People refusing to realize that their lives will depend on working together. No one is getting a free ride."

[day late]

Sandra's words proved to be prophetic over the course of the following weeks. As did Bill's observations. At first she spent much of her time at the shelter, going through each and every room in the place. As Bill observed, she cut to the heart of the matter right from the start, no matter what the problem.

"Allen, if this place was built in the fifties, I don't think the fuel in the storage tanks is going to be any good after all this time. Do you think it will be possible to empty them and get newer fuel?"

"Well we could, if we had to do it. But Dad and I have already taken care of that. When we first found this place, most of the fuel tanks were empty. The ones the weren't we emptied and then refilled, along with the empty ones. The generators run on diesel fuel. That keeps a lot longer than gas. And we have deliberately run some of these tanks out of fuel, just so we could refill them. Right now we have close to 1,000 gallons of good fuel down here. It won't last forever, but it is a good start."

When she got to the kitchen it took no time for her to realize there was no way each group of people would be able to cook for themselves. While it was big, it was designed for feeding large numbers of people. There simply wasn't the room for everyone to do their own thing in there. Sandra had begun to carry a note book and would write down reminders to herself about various things. She took it out now and simply wrote 'cooks' and returned it to her pocket.

The sleeping quarters came in differing sizes. For different sized families, she assumed. The smaller rooms were on the upper of the two floors, which she thought might prove to be a problem. The larger groups would undoubtedly have children, and the conference and recreation rooms were on the floor above the smaller rooms. Out came the note book and she entered 'rec. on rotating basis' and slipped it back into the pocket.

One thing that came as a complete surprise to everyone was when she found the armory. Bill and Allen thought they had gone through every room. Somehow they had missed that one. The walls were lined with old, but well preserved and quite serviceable weapons from the era of the Korean War and World War II. While none of them were considered heavy weapons, there were semi auto M-1 rifles, Thompson Sub-Machine-guns and .45 automatic pistols. She questioned Bill about the ammunition for them.

"Do you think it is any good after all this time?"

"Under normal circumstances I'd doubt it. But there are two things to remember. This ammo and these weapons have been stored in about the best place and best way possible. It has been shielding from both sun light and temperature changes. And, more importantly in my opinion, I think The Lord has been watching out for us since around the time I was born. I think it will shoot, but I'll take a few rounds top side and try them out to be sure."

One thing that she wasn't surprised by was the empty shelves in the kitchen. It concerned her that there wasn't any food for anyone at this point, beyond what Bill and Allen had set aside for themselves.

"People are going to have to bring as much food with them as they can." She told Bill.

"You're right about that. I think that when the time comes we need to find a way to make everyone understand that. One thing you can count on is that there are going to be a lot of people who are going to believe that we are here just to provide for them." He shook his head. "I'll never understand why some people think that they are so special that they don't have to do anything to help themselves."

"Pro 6:6 Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise: That's what Solomon said." Sandra commented.

Bill looked at her, and smiled. "I knew you were the right one for this job. I can't think of many people who would relate this to what is written in The Bible."

She smiled back at him. "Well, I'm still learning."

"Aren't we all?"

Over the course of the next couple of weeks she, Bill, Allen and Russell started to do everything they could to stock up on supplies for the shelter. Oddly enough it was the 'space brothers' who assisted them, when they came out with the announcement that they were the creators of man kind. It was further helped by Director Ives when he put out a statement that Christianity and Judaism were to be outlawed immediately. Other religions were to be given a short amount of time to change their ways, or be outlawed themselves. Soon many people were starting to come to the members of the militia asking if they were going to be arrested if they didn't give up their religion. One at a time they were discretely questioned. Those who were believed to be Bible believing Christians were directed to Russell.

In turn he told them as gently as possible that they needed to do something for themselves. He pointed out what Joseph had done in Egypt. During the good years he had put food aside for the bad times he knew was coming. Some of the people complained that times were already bad, and they couldn't do anything to help. That's when he asked them all one question.

"If you can't do anything to help anyone else, how can you expect anyone to do anything to help you?"

Many of them were left speechless. Most saw the reality of his words and began to contribute what they could, when they could. Before long the shelves began to fill. Not much at first, but slowly and surely they started to fill.

It was three weeks later that Russell and his men came across the last thing they expected. They were out on patrol, very early one morning when one man came back from the point position to talk to him.

"Sir there is something strange up ahead."

"What is it?"

"Sir, I think you had better look for yourself."

Russell quietly moved up past the men, unaware that they were amazed at how he seemed to move through the brush without a sound. It gave them confidence that he indeed was the man to follow. Russell continued to move up to a vantage point where he could see clearly into the valley below him. He saw a camp. It was unlike any camp he had ever seen before. There had to be twenty people down there. By his best guess, from what he could see, the oldest one couldn't be more than fifteen. He didn't want to even try to determine the age of the youngest. He had never seen the like of this before. He wondered what these children were doing out here in the wilderness by themselves? They were still asleep and they hadn't posted any guards.

"I'm going down there." He said to the men around him. "I don't think there will be a problem, but be ready, just in case."

"Sir, Don't you think it would be good to have back up?"

"That's what you guys are. I don't think there is anything to worry about. Just make sure I don't get a surprise from behind."

"Yes Sir."

Russell carefully made his way down the hill. Before he knew it he was in the middle of the camp. They all were sound asleep. He looked around and realized that these children were in a bad way. Trash was everywhere. Some of them looked as if they hadn't had a bath in days at the very least. They had managed to set up a few shelters, under which the smaller children slept, but they were on the very edge of getting into real trouble. Sanitation seemed to be unknown to them, and food seemed to be in very short supply. Water was present, but he questioned how safe it would be to drink. He walked over to a boy that seemed to be older than the rest and gently used his boot to tap his foot.

"What? Who did that?" He asked as he woke.

"Who are you?"

The boy looked at him with eyes that clearly showed fear.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the guy who has a gun and found you on our land. Who are you kids?"

The young man got a look of fear on his face at the question.

"We're refugees."

"From what, and why?"

"We don't like the space brothers. They want people like us, kids, for some reason that they don't want to talk about."

"I've heard that. I can imagine what the want you for."

As they had been speaking, some of the other children had woken up. One of the younger ones walked up next to him. Looking up, the child reached out and took Russell by the hand.

"Mr.? Are you a Christian?"

The boy's eyes grew wide with fear at the question. Russell looked down at her.

"Yes I am. Are you?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes Sir. I am. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too." He looked at the boy again. "Want to tell me your name now?"

"Not until you tell me something."

"And what might that be?"

"Who is Jesus Christ?"

"The only begotten Son of God. Born of a virgin, who was crucified, died and was raised on the third day as the scriptures foretold."

The boy's face obviously relaxed. "So, you are one of us."

"That depends. Who are you?"

"We are from the Christian academy in the next county. Those things that call themselves space brothers were really interested in us, but we didn't like them. They seem, well, strange. And not in a good way. Our parents thought we should go along with them. To stay out of trouble if nothing else. But they wanted us to deny Jesus. We couldn't do that. So we left."

"I see. Tell me have you kids had anything to eat recently?"

"We had a little last night. It was the last of what we had."

"Let's see if we can do something about that."

"We?"

"Watch." Russell whistled and waved his arm. The men above him began to move down to the children. Soon they were breaking out what rations they had and started to make breakfast for the youngsters. Before long, the children were behaving as children do. They laughed at jokes and played with each other and the men as they ate.

"Sir?" One of the men spoke to Russell.

"What is it?"

"Sir, what are we going to do with these kids?"

"I have an idea. Let's get them ready to move and get this site cleaned up so nobody knows they were here."

The next hour was spent in cleaning up the camp and getting rid of the trash. They also tore down the shelters, but saved the coverings for future use. Before long, Russell had them all moving towards the shelter Bill owned. They got within a half mile of the place when he called a halt, and had everyone wait for his return. He went ahead to find either Bill or Allen to find out how they wanted to handle this. So far, only he and Sandra knew of the shelter and just showing up with twenty young people didn't seem like a good way to make them aware of the problem.

He hadn't gone a quarter of a mile before he heard something moving through the brush and took cover until he could find out who or what it was. Suddenly Bill and Allen came out of the brush in front of him. They took a step or two beyond his hiding place and halted.

"Son, are you sure this is the place?"

"That's what I was told."

Russell stood and gently placed his hand on Allen's shoulder.

"Got you." He said.

Allen turned and saw Russell standing there. He smiled, nodded his head but said nothing. Bill looked at him and smiling said,

"Yep. Real promise in this one. Where are they Russell?"

"You know?"

"We had another visit last night. Michael said there would be twenty children with you. We are to look after them, along with you and Sandra that is."

"I left them about a quarter mile back. I wanted to let you know before we just appeared on your door step."

"I appreciate that. Let's take them around to the main entrance."

"What about my men? Are you sure you want to let everyone know about your place?"

"They have to learn sooner or later. Just make sure they keep it to themselves."

"I'll do what I can."

Soon the three of them seemed to just appear in front of the children and Russell's men. He called them together and spoke to them somberly.

"Kids, these are friends of mine. This man is Bill and the younger one is his son, Allen. They are both good men and real Christians. Now, does everyone know what a vow is?" He asked them.

One young girl raised her hand as if she were in class and said, "I don't."

He smiled at her and told them all. "A vow is a promise. It is something that is very serious. Once you take a vow, you can not break it. Just like you don't break a promise. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head.

"Alright, I want everyone to kneel with me and make a vow to God. If you are unwilling to do this, say so now." He went to his knees.

"Sir? What kind of vow are you talking about?" One of the boys wanted to know.

"A vow not to tell a secret to anyone. This isn't a bad kind of secret. It is a good kind."

"What is the difference?"

"A bad secret means that people might, or even will, get hurt. A good one is a vow that won't get people hurt. Like when you get married. Two people vow to take care of each other. That's not a bad thing, it is a good one."

"Oh, okay."

By this time the men had already knelt, along with many of the children. Now the rest of them, mainly the older ones, did the same.

Russell removed his hat and looking up he prayed.

"Heavenly Father, We here today want to vow to you that what is about to be shown to those present will not be revealed to anyone without the permission of Bill, Allen or myself. We do not take this vow lightly and ask that You stand as both witness and judge of our vow. This we pray in Jesus name. Amen."

A universal 'Amen' went though the group. Then standing, Russell told them.

"Okay, come with us and try to be quiet."

It took a little longer than he had hoped to get the children where they needed to go, but they finally made it. Standing on the well concealed helipad, he turned to Bill.

"Your turn."

"Thank you. Allen, would you care to do the honors?"

"Sure, Dad."

Allen walked up to what looked like a cliff face. He pushed on a stone and it slid smoothly into the face. As it did so, a rock popped open to reveal a lever under it. He pulled the lever downward, and there was a loud 'thunk' and a part of the cliff face divided in half as the doors swung silently inward. As they did so, lights inside came on, illuminating the inside. Allen turned around and looking at the youngsters said,

"Welcome home."