It's been a week since we made our escape from Cox’s vile compound. And we have been hunted every single night. I am proud of the progress the young men have made. Their bravery has increased with their resolve. We have managed to keep whatever vigilante Cox has seen fit to send after us at bay. With the aid of various booby traps, we are rewarded each morning by the sight of our intended targets’ demise. Only once needing to use the assault rifle—my military training paying off tenfold.
Each morning, before the cock would crow, we set off for a designated distance. Once we reach that distance, using the location of the sun and an approximation of our rate of travel, we stop and prepare the night’s traps. On this particular day, we notice a cabin in the distance. With extreme stealth, we make our way towards it. Our intention is not to rest there, making ourselves a blazon target for the Reverend, but to find any weapons or stores inside.
I climb the rundown porch and signal for Anthony and Zach to stay back. I flatten myself against the wall and press the back of my left hand against the front door. It doesn’t budge. Locked? Maybe not. I slowly reach for the knob and try to turn it. The knob does not turn. Locked. I raise my hand to the young men, and brace myself against the wall of the porch, preparing to donkey kick the door.
With a deep breath, I summon all my lower-body strength and kick the door with everything I’ve got. As the door launches inward and slams against the inside wall, a single shotgun blast rings out. Zach is narrowly missed and plunges to the ground. Anthony dives behind a tree and lies still. I cry out in an attempt to appease the party inside the cabin.
“Please. We’re not here to hurt anyone. We’re looking for a place to rest for a moment and then we’ll be on our way. We had no idea anyone was here. Please. Lower your weapon.”
After a moment, an elderly man comes onto the porch. He is followed by a woman who must be his wife and a couple of young people. A married couple, from the looks of it.
“Well, did you have to kick in my door to do it?!” The elderly man bellows.
“I’m sorry, Sir. The cabin looked empty, but I couldn’t be sure. We’ve been evading a group of religious fanatics. They’re collecting men and women for some kind of human resurgence. They’ve already killed some of our party and have been hunting us for over a week. I didn’t know if any of them had holed up in here. I had no idea this was your home. We’ll help you repair the door before we get on our way.”
The elderly man smiles knowingly.
“The Reverend. You’ve met the Reverend! A couple of his men came through here a few days ago. They never left. Their bodies are hanging out back. As a reminder to any who would come here on the same mission. Tried to take my daughter-in-law and threatened to kill my wife. Said the Heavenly Hosts had no use for a woman of such advanced age. Shot ‘em both before either one of ‘em could raise their weapon. Learned that in Vietnam. Sharpshooter. One of the best. They may have no use for Miriam, but she’s my wife. She taught me how to read—after I dropped out of school to help Pa on the farm. She bore me six children. Four of which have since passed away. Our eldest, Rebecca, is now a big shot lawyer over in Texas. And Ben, here….Is my only son. They were gonna kill him too. I don’t think so. Not my boy! We’ve all been through a lot together. We ain't gonna let nobody off easy! Not where family's concerned. If you’re an enemy of the Reverend’s—you ain’t no enemy to me. Come in and rest a bit. Nancy will put together some lunch and a bit of food for your pack.”
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I am thrilled to find myself laughing at jokes for the first time in days. Benjamin Martin Sr., as I learn is the old man’s name, is clearly a comical cynic. Every Vietnam joke, off-the-grid joke, or zombie apocalypse joke; has me wanting to roll on the floor. His jokes are further accented by the animated movements of his hands and head. His facial expressions are enough to make me cough up some of my homemade cider. Ben Junior shakes his head and wags a finger at his father.
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“Dad, come on! We’ve heard all these before.”
Benjamin Senior smiles broadly, displaying a set of white dentures, and casually shrugs. “Sure you have, but we’ve got company. And they’ll be gone by morning. I’ve got a captive audience again.”
“Aw, Dad!” Benjamin moans and waves a hand in his father’s direction. Alison Martin laughs softly and grabs at her husband’s shirt sleeve. She leans into him and kisses his cheek.
A sadness takes over my countenance as I ponder the whereabouts of my own loving wife. I wonder where she is at that moment. I wonder if I will ever see her again. But then, I think about Reverend Cox, and his devious plans for humanity, and I am glad she is not here. Maybe she is safe. Waiting to make her way back home to me again. Surely, anywhere is safer than here. At least for the time being. I turn back to Ben Senior.
“Have you heard anything about what’s going on? Say outside the county? I mean, what do you make of Cox’s Heavenly Hosts story?” I stare intently at Ben Senior, as he takes a deep breath, not bothering to mention that I had caught a glimpse of these so-called Heavenly Host—and that they were anything but.
“I don’t know what they are,“ Ben Senior drawls, “but they ain’t angels. I saw one of them the night before Cox’s boys showed up. It was slinking through the trees. A weird, rail-thin creature. It looked almost blended in with the surrounding trees. Almost kind of see-through like. I couldn’t really make out any features except it looks to be kind of humanoid….And strong. It ripped a tree right out of the ground. True, it was a small tree—but I couldn’t have done that. And my wife claims I’m still plenty strong.”
At this, Ben Senior shoots his wife a seductive glance. Miriam laughs demurely and waves a hand in his direction.
“Anyway,” Ben Senior continues. “After it stared towards the house for a bit, it moved on its way. Next night, the Reverend’s men showed up with their yellin’ and their guns! The rest you know.”
“I saw them too. The night we busted out. Do you believe they’re aliens?” I ask uncertainly. Even Zach and Anthony had not been made privy to my encounter of a week ago. They stare at me in dumbfounded silence.
“Don’t know what they are! But, I know what they ain’t! That’s why I won’t be throwing in with Cox’s lot. That man is a charlatan. A false prophet. Mankind is better off without people like him. If he comes around here, him or his men, he’ll get the same welcome those sad fellas received a few nights ago.”
Anthony joins the conversation. “You don’t know the Reverend, Sir. He seems to enjoy playing people against each other and taking hostages. And he’s got about a couple dozen followers. And they’re well armed.”
Ben Senior points to a gun cabinet a few feet away. He nods in its direction and then fixes Anthony with a kind smile.
“As are we.” He adds softly.
I shake my head furiously. “I don’t feel right abandoning you folks! I feel like we should stay. Like we should band together. There’s strength in numbers.”
Ben Senior shakes his head solemnly. “You ain’t abandoning us, Son. We were here before you came, and we’ll be here long after ya leave. We’re a family. We’ve lived in these woods for generations, now. Cox comes against one of us, he comes against us all. That’s just how we are. His men already know we’re here. It’s just a matter of time before they pay us another visit. And we’ll be ready. But you boys might just be able to elude them, if you keep moving. Try and find some other people. Find us some help. That’s how you can help. Ain’t no good gonna come from y’all stayin’ here and possibly being gunned down too. Don’t feel any kind of way about this. My family and I have already made our peace.”
“Yes, but…” I begin to exclaim, but Ben Junior cuts me off.
“My father’s right. And besides, you can’t abandon a guy if he’s got a gun pointed at your head. Which is what we’ll do if you don’t leave in the morning. Find us some help. Some other people. Maybe even the National Guard. That’s what we need now. Plenty of might and firepower. Like my father said, it’s only a matter of time ‘til they come back here. You don’t need to be here when they do.”
As much as I admire the Martins’ bravery, I can’t help but feel a great sadness stir within me. I feel almost certain that I will never see them alive again.
“Okay, “ I state softly, “We go in the morning. In the meantime, let’s get those traps set for the night.”
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When the sun rises the next morning, the cabin is at our backs and a mile away. All three of us: Zach, Anthony, and myself; carry packs filled with food and supplies. Tears run down Anthony’s cheeks, mingling with the dust and mud covering our skin. Each of us also carries a heavy heart for the four people we are leaving behind.