“We’re doing damn good if I say so myself. We have enough non-perishables to feed everyone in the Fort for close to a year,” Smucker said, with an obvious sense of pride.
“Please don’t take any offense, but this Event is permanent, not just a year or two. You will never have power again. You’ll have to make your own food and you’ll have to be very creative, because much of what you see around you will die off from the excessive radiation and a drought that started even before the Event. So, you will need a lot more food before you even can hope to have any sustainability.”
“I’ve been thinking about this,” Frank cut in. “There are a couple of supply warehouses east of here that might be good places to search. A lot of the food that was transported by rail through Laramie gets broken down at those warehouses and then sent out on semis to other points out west. The cold stuff would be bad by now, but they should have a lot of dry food as well, assuming it hasn’t already been taken.”
“That’s brilliant; we’ll send tonight’s team that way. But, why the hell didn’t you say something sooner?” asked the sheriff.
“As you can see, Sheriff, I’ve been a little busy,” he said, pointing to the corners of the town, and then resting his hands on his gun belt.
“All right, I think we’re done for now,” said Tex. “Let’s give the love birds some private time with one another.” He winked, smirking at Carrington and Melanie, who were standing beside each other.
Bob spoke next. “Thanks, every—”
A loud horn blared a long, deep tone, followed immediately by three short notes.
“Dammit, we’ve got a sighting on the eastern gate,” said Frank, who grabbed his rifle from its resting place against the wall. He had designed a warning call with Jeff Rohrbach, who used to play the French horn professionally and was now Fort Laramie’s Paul Revere. Jeff blew one long blast, which indicated there was a threat coming to their wall. Then, each of the short blasts that followed told them at what point on a clock the threat was coming to, with 5th and Clark Street being twelve o’clock. So, the three short blows indicated that trouble was coming from three o’clock, which meant the eastern gate at Grand and 9th Street.
23.
Resistance Is Futile
“You’re now members of God’s Army,” Thomas told his newest batch of recruits. “You’ve been issued rifles, which you will always carry. You have been given armbands, which you will always wear in public. As long as you are with us, you are part of this army until Teacher or one of us tells you different. You will always protect your fellow man or woman in God’s Army and serve the Teacher. From now on, you will be staying together in quarters we give you. We will assign you a buddy, who will be with you always. If you came here with other family or friends, you will be given visitation at certain times of the day. The rest of your day will be ours; you will use this time for training, working for the community and performing service to the Teacher. Do you all understand? Signal by saying yes sir.”
“Yes sir,” Darla and the several dozen others yelled out while standing at attention. Darla noted the loose formation of men and women, young and old, skinny and overweight, representing all ethnic persuasions and all socio-economic classes, banded together for one of two reasons: survival or the desire to follow the Teacher. Many were volunteers, but others like her had been conscripted. She considered how she arrived at this place, as the Teacher’s first in command continued to tell them that all of their freedoms were now sold to the GA and in return, the GA would grant safety.
When she and Danny had started walking with them, that first day after sleeping in the vacated house, they stayed at the back of the line, on the periphery. When they all stopped for the evening, she noticed they took over a small bedroom community somewhere outside Joliet, Illinois. She heard no clatter of guns, nor any evidence of violence. Yet, only now did she suspect that this group she had been traveling with gave the communities’ residents an ultimatum. Their modus operandi was offering everyone the chance to leave or become one of them and follow their leader, the Teacher. Like her, most had assumed nothing but benign intentions until it was too late.
The first morning on the road, Darla and Danny had met one of the Teacher’s confidants. The man wore an armband with “GA” written on it in black marker. He had introduced himself, but Darla had long since forgotten his name. Then he’d informed them that they were following the Teacher out west to find a place where they could be safe and take care of each other and serve God. There were rules about sharing food and water with the community. They were free to go, but if they stayed, they would have to contribute. He offered positions performing various duties. They both jumped on the scavenging party detail, the first of which was to leave a few minutes later. His welcome gift to them was several doses of Albuterol and an inhaler for Danny.
The scavenging parties branched out from their community like worker ants from their anthill, finding untended supplies in surrounding areas and bringing them back to the community so that all would benefit. Water and food were to be shared equally, but any other personal items they wished to carry were theirs. On their second day of scavenging, Darla and Danny grabbed a two-person tent from an abandoned outdoor supply store, two sleeping bags, and a better backpack for Danny. In a community already numbering over a thousand, most—including them—didn’t have a roof over their heads, so this was a good addition to their personal supplies.
After several days, they still hadn’t met the Teacher, much less any more of his close followers, each easily identified by their arm bands. One day, a woman named Martha stopped by with pen and clipboard in hand, taking a census of each of the people that had joined their group. The expected questions were asked: name, home town, vocation, marital status, and who they had been separated from. Although that last question was simple enough, Darla hadn’t spoken about this with anyone but Danny. Even then she’d had to be strong for her brother.
She thought for a moment, her face instantly struck with emotion. She had a room full of held-back sadness, the door locked for her own protection, and she opened the door wide, letting the tears overflow while she described her family and then her—she didn’t know how to label Steve Parkington. “My fiancé,” she blurted out, knowing it wasn’t true, but it felt true. Then, she opened more doors to more rooms she didn’t even know she had and she bawled to this stranger asking her private questions. She had never cried like this, even while breaking up with Dylan, and certainly not since the Event; it was long overdue.
After several long minutes Darla regained her composure. Martha asked in a comforting tone, “Is it okay if we continue?” The questions went on: about her physical health, what talents or skills she had that could be beneficial to the group. It all made perfect sense; if you wanted the community to work together and survive, it had to rely on the strengths of all these disparate individuals.
Then, Martha’s questions became very personal. “Are you still a virgin?” Yet, Darla answered truthfully that she was. Although the query seemed strange and way out of line, she assumed at the time it was just some way to assess who might be sexually active and potentially prone toward pregnancy or a sexually transmitted disease; either would affect their little community. The episode was forgotten, her emotional doors locked up once again, and she and Danny continued scavenging with their fellow community members.
On their tenth night with the group, their tent had a visitor. A man cleared his throat, and then said as if projecting from a stage, “The Teacher would like to talk to Ms. Darla King.”