Ash: Rise of the Republic by Campbell Paul Young Page A

patching up the shaken security
guard, I sent word around for everyone to drop what they were
doing, arm themselves, and report to the meeting house. We decided
to increase security immediately. Except a few kids who would be in
charge of running the smokehouse and feeding the livestock, every
man, woman, and child strong enough to pull a trigger was sent to a
guardpost. Pickets with flare guns were set a few hundred yards
away on each of the main roads. Their instructions were to launch
their flares and retreat to the perimeter the second they saw
anyone coming up the road. We split into two twelve hour watches to
keep the maximum number of eyes open at any given time. Even
counting kids, we were less than sixty strong. If Beal’s estimate
on the enemy strength was accurate, we would be in for a close
fight.
    The flare came sooner than we expected.
Early in the evening the following day those of us in the central
guard post heard the whoosh and watched with sudden dread as the
bright spot of magnesium flame began floating slowly back to earth.
In a rush of adrenaline, I trained my binoculars down the highway
with shaking hands. A line of trucks was moving slowly through the
trench we had cleared a few weeks before. I recognized the lead
vehicle immediately: my red Toyota. A man was standing in the bed
waving a white bath towel tied to a mop handle over his head. I
asked the sentry behind me to sound the alarm.
    The entire neighborhood turned out at the
signal, crowding onto rooftops to watch the procession slowly roll
down the highway past the street we had blocked with the
semi-trailer. There were twelve pickup trucks, five or six armed
men in each. Their faces were grim as they stared my neighbors
down. I left my perch and calmly walked to the gate to meet them.
Deb, Mike, and several others moved to join me but I gestured for
them to wait behind the gate. I walked a few paces forward and
stood with my weapon ready, my finger near the trigger.
    My former truck, much worse for wear and
coated with grime and ash, slowed to a stop at my signal. The
driver’s side passenger door opened and a thin, balding man in a
dirty business suit stepped out. He held a wide grin on his face
and a thick book in his left hand. Stepping briskly toward me, he
extended his right in greeting.
    “God bless you sir, my name is Nathaniel.
Reverend Nathaniel Jerrick. I stopped in to ask if you have a
moment to talk about the Lord,” His booming voice seemed designed
to carry to everyone present.
    “Well that depends: did your crew disable
the power plant down and murder all those people last night?” I
replied, ignoring the proffered hand, keeping my own close to my
weapon.
    “Well of course we tore down the
abomination, that is our mandate, but it isn’t murder to
exterminate the vermin who worshiped in its halls.” His reply was
jovial, he turned to look at the men in the trucks. Some of them
chuckled.
    “Mandate?” I growled. I could hear angry
muttering behind me.
    ”Direct from the Lord, our god. As you know
very well, the Rapture has come and passed. I was initially
saddened to find myself left here with the sinners, but it turned
out that God had a plan for me. You see, He is going to build the
Kingdom here on earth, but before He does that, the planet must be
cleansed of the corruption of man. He sent one of his angels to
command me to gather a congregation of the damned to carry out His
Will. Every soul who repents and assists me in carrying out my Holy
Instructions shall be forgiven and ascend to Heaven with me when
our work is complete. These fine men,” he swept an arm toward the
line of trucks, “have all confessed their sins and enlisted in the
project. We call ourselves the Redeemed Fellowship for the
Transition. “Tell me, brother, do you and your fellow Christians
seek eternal salvation?”
    “I think you should go,” I responded through
clenched teeth, knuckles white on the stock of my rifle. “This
isn’t the