Blood of the Faithful (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

In the morning, when the roosters were still shouting their morning reveille and the air was cool and smelling of ripening cornfields mingled with sagebrush blowing in off the desert, Jacob roused his son Daniel to help him load the truck.

Daniel was thirteen and growing, his body turning long and lean. His voice had started to change. Once the boy had blinked away the sleep and fought off a bout of yawns, he eagerly helped. Using wheelbarrows, father and son hauled out two barrels of flour, several sacks of dried peas, and three buckets of powdered milk. Once they’d lifted them into the back, Jacob covered them with sheets and shut the doors. He sent Daniel in to help with breakfast.

Before going inside himself, Jacob turned toward the Ghost Cliffs, which lay a few miles to the north. The rising sun turned the sandstone orange and gold. With the wet weather of the past few years, the overhangs and fissures had turned green, and a profusion of rabbit grass and other vegetation joined the juniper and bristlecone pine that had grown there since Jacob’s childhood.

While he and Daniel had been loading the supplies, the dogs had trotted hopefully around from the back of the house, as if expecting to jump into the truck and go for a ride. Two of them now retreated to the porch, disappointed, but one still stood there wagging his tail.

“Sorry, boy,” Jacob said, reaching down to scratch the old dog behind his ears. “No more joyrides for dogs. Those days are past.”

All his dogs were either former strays or animals he’d rescued or healed of some ailment or another. This one had been a poor, starved thing belonging to a man Father had driven out of Blister Creek. Abusing his animals, abusing his family. Not unexpectedly, the dog had turned into one of the most grateful, loyal animals Jacob had ever owned. His only flaw was a propensity to tangle with the skunks that wandered in off the desert.

Jacob spotted his brother David on the porch of the house next door, watching. David came down when he saw Jacob looking. The dog trotted over to greet him, then followed him back, still wagging his tail.

“What are you hiding in there?” David asked with a gesture at the truck. He pushed aside the dog, who was helpfully shoving a nose into his crotch.

“I’m having second thoughts about Miriam,” Jacob said. “I don’t want her picking a fight. Do you think we should bring Lillian instead?”

“Nice deflection.” David glanced at the back of the truck. “Well?”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Of course. And that’s why you got up early to haul all that stuff out. You were going to wait until we get on the road before saying anything.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“I’m your brother. Of course you are. So what is it?”

“I miss the days when you remembered you were my
younger
brother,” Jacob said with a smile. “And you didn’t question me all the time.”

David raised an eyebrow. “What brother are you talking about? That was never me. So? What’s in there?”

“Flour, peas, powdered milk. Not a lot. Enough to show peaceful intentions.”

“And spread the word that we’re giving away free food. I’m sure that will help.”

“I suppose you’d rather charge in, guns blazing.”

“I’ve had enough killing. But why go up at all? What we’re doing is working.”

“It’s working to keep us bottled up. East is an endless wilderness. Go south and west and we run into bandits. That leaves north, past the squatters.”

“There’s nothing north either.”

“There’s no way to know from here, that’s for sure. But if we get past the reservoir, we’re only an hour drive from Panguitch. Don’t you want to know what’s up there? If there’s still a state government or any towns that aren’t completely abandoned?”

“Not really. My curiosity these days is mostly about whether or not we can stay alive for another season.” David shrugged. “Anyway, there’s no rush. We’re safe here. We fought our enemies and won. Let the squatters wither and die. Whatever they’re living on, it can’t last forever. We stay here, the Lord will protect us. We leave, we face the destruction of the world.”

“You sound like a fundamentalist,” Jacob accused.

“I have a family to protect now. The world has destroyed itself. Then I look around and see this safe place, filled with my people, my tribe. People who fight and die to keep me safe. Of course I’m a conservative in these circumstances. And yeah, suspicious about outsiders. The only question I have is why you aren’t.”

Jacob drummed his fingers against the side of the Humvee.

“Jacob?”

“What if it’s over and we’re staying here for no reason?”

“How do you mean?” David asked.

“Say the war has ended. The famine too. The survivors are pulling together. We’ll go to Panguitch, Richfield, Cedar City. Find the survivors, pull them together. Trade, exchange information. Fight the bandits together. Keep pushing outward until we form a new government. Maybe just a few towns to start, then the whole state. After that, who knows?”

“Get real, Jacob. Nothing like that will happen. The only thing that will bring peace is the Second Coming. You need to stand up straight and start acting like our prophet. If you don’t, the Lord will choose someone who will.”

Jacob stared, dumbfounded. With that comment, he knew for certain. He’d lost David.

His gaze fell on the faithful old dog. Still standing there, still wagging his tail. Still hoping to go for a ride. Not that Jacob expected people to be dogs, but couldn’t his closest brother, at least, be more trusting? He determined to keep his doubts to himself, at least so far as David was concerned.

“I’m sorry,” David said after a moment, his voice softer. “I didn’t mean that. I’m worried about this scheme is all. You won’t win friends in the squatter camp. They’ve killed our people, we’ve killed theirs. No amount of gift giving will ever change that hatred.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I’ve got to try.”

“You’re dead set on this?”

“I am.”

David chewed on his lip and glanced back and forth between his brother and the truck. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, then. I’m not convinced, but fine. I’ll support you. But don’t talk about the food until we’re under way. Then you can argue it all you want.”

“That was my plan all along. About Miriam—what if we took Lillian instead?”

“There’s nothing wrong with Lillian, I trust her. But we need Miriam. If things turn ugly, nobody else gives us a better chance.”

“Then talk to her first,” Jacob said.

“About what?”

“Make sure she’s on a short leash. I’m happy to have Miriam finish a fight, but I can’t have her starting one.”

Jacob went inside for breakfast. When he came back out, David and Miriam had already come from next door and were standing by the front bumper of the Humvee, chatting. Miriam had changed out of her prairie dress for the occasion, and wore jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, with a tan utility vest, full of pockets. Her hair had grown out since she’d cut it trying to sneak into Las Vegas, and she wore it in a simple ponytail.

While David and Miriam spoke, she was laying out an array of weapons across the hood: an AR-15 assault rifle, two pistols, a pair of shotguns, plus a zipper case carrying a second rifle, this one fixed with a scope and tripod. Also, various ammo cans and boxes of shells, plus a pile of Kevlar vests. Seeing Miriam’s smooth, businesslike movements filled Jacob with confidence. When she wanted to be, Miriam was calm and efficient.

She glanced up as Jacob arrived. “Why’d you lock the truck? I couldn’t get this stuff in.”

“Habit, I guess.”

“What habit? You usually leave the doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition.”

“Do I?” Jacob avoided David’s gaze and handed Miriam a pair of handheld radios. “I’ll load it up. You two test these radios, and make sure the batteries are good. I had to change out one of them the other day—it wouldn’t hold a charge anymore.”

He opened the back and tossed the vests on top of the blanket concealing the foodstuffs, then loaded the ammo and guns. When he came back around, his sister Eliza was riding up on a chestnut mare.

She wore jeans and a long-sleeve denim shirt, with boots and a baseball cap. Apart from the hat, she was looking suspiciously like a polygamist wife. Even though many other women had begun to wear their hair in shorter, more practical styles, Eliza had been growing her own hair out again. It was now in two long, blond braids that trailed halfway down her back. How long until she came to Jacob asking for a second wife for her husband?

Don’t be paranoid,
he thought.
You’re worked up because of David. Eliza would never do that. And Steve wouldn’t go for a second wife either.

Two of Jacob’s younger brothers came out for Eliza’s horse, which they led around the house toward the stables.

Jacob and David loaded the rest of the gear in the back of the Humvee while Eliza and Miriam exchanged pleasantries. By the time it was in there, the food under the blanket didn’t stand out so much. When Jacob came back, David suggested they pray before setting out. That was a good idea, Jacob said. How about David do the praying?

Jacob opened his eyes midway through the prayer. The others—even Eliza—stood with their hands together in front of them, their heads bowed solemnly. The faith seemed to radiate off them like the heat shimmering from the hood of the Humvee. Each of these people had saved his life before. Yet he felt more distant from them now, more lonely than he could ever remember.

The four of them climbed into the Humvee, Eliza up front with Jacob. Fuel was so precious, the sound of a vehicle so rare, that people hurried out to their porches to watch as they drove through town. Jacob cruised at a slow speed, waving through the open windows to let them know there was no emergency.

“Glad we’re not driving past the Smoot house,” Eliza said. “Soon as he spotted us he’d raise an army and march it into the cliffs. Just in case.”

“I warned Elder Smoot we were going,” Jacob said, “and for exactly that reason. I told Sister Rebecca and the Griggs family too. Don’t need the alarmists riled up.”

They pulled past the temple, gleaming in the morning sun, then drove up the highway along the edge of Witch’s Warts. It stretched toward the cliffs in a vast maze of red fins and knobby hoodoos that stood like rows of silent sentinels off the shoulder of the road. Soon they were in the open land with the cliffs looming ahead of them. The highway cut straight to their base, then became a twisting snake as it climbed a series of switchbacks to the top.

Grover and Ezekiel Smoot were guarding the guns at the main bunker halfway up, and Jacob slowed as they approached. A pair of horses loafed in the shade of a lean-to shed on one side of the bunker.

Ezekiel came out to Jacob’s rolled-down window, a rifle slung over his shoulder. The young man was in his midtwenties, with the same dark hair and intense gaze as his father. He had a short-cropped beard and thin lips. He wasn’t the most handsome man in town, but he carried himself with a confidence that Jacob respected.

“Trouble?” Ezekiel asked.

“Nothing to worry about. A little reconnaissance. Been a long time since I’ve been to the reservoir, and I want to make sure the squatters aren’t up to anything. Has it been quiet here?”

“Dead,” Ezekiel said with a shrug. “Need me to come along? Grover can handle the .50-cal while I’m gone.”

“Nah, we’re good. I’m not expecting trouble.”

Ezekiel nodded. “We’ll listen for gunfire, just in case.”

“Sure, if you hear anything send Grover to Yellow Flats and warn Sister Rebecca. But you stay at the machine gun.”

“Got it,” Ezekiel said with a curt nod. “God be with you.”

After they’d pulled away, Miriam spoke up from the back of the vehicle. “Hey, Jacob. Want to explain all this food?”

“Nothing much to explain. It’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Looks to me like a gift. Or a bribe. So I guess I have no idea, because it couldn’t be either of those things.”

“It’s a gift,” he admitted. “We barely dipped into the food stores last year, and this year we’ve got a good crop planted and no late frosts.”

“No late frosts
yet,
” David said.

“Yet,” Jacob conceded. “But you’ll have to admit the weather seems less . . .
weird.
I think we’ll get a solid harvest. We can spare some food.”

“It’s not a question of whether or not we can spare it,” Eliza said. She sounded equally concerned. “You know that. We’re trying to shrink the squatter camp, not grow it. How many millions of hungry people are there in the world at this moment, ready to come running the instant they hear we’ve gone soft?”

“That’s the whole point,” Jacob said. “We don’t have any idea. For all we know, the government has sorted out the food situation.”

Some scoffing came from the others at this.

“Anyway,” Jacob continued when they quieted down, “people can hardly come running across two hundred miles of desert. And they’re not going to do it for two barrels of flour, three buckets of powdered milk, and a few sacks of dried peas.”

“I’d rather not find out for sure,” David said.