The Last Pilgrims by Michael Bunker Page A

my
family.”
    “We still don’t know if Gareth is an Aztlani
spy or not, but that is all the more reason for you and the Elders
to meet here and not in Bethany.”
    “It’s out of the question,” Jonathan replied
softly, “our colonies between here and San Angelo would be cut off;
and, if we do not ride now, we’ll lose a whole day that might be
used to get some of our people to safety.”
    “Father’s right, Tim, we have to ride to
Bethany now,” David agreed.
    “ Besides, this isn’t about
me,” Jonathan added.
    “I’m sorry to disagree with you, Your
Honor,” Tim said with his eyes down. “This has always been about
you.”

Chapter 7 - David
     
     
    The heat was oppressive again, but David
could see that the white cumulonimbus clouds off to the South and
West were beginning to conglomerate and build skyward, looking like
a giant volcanic eruption towering to perhaps 40,000 feet—an
ominous portent of possible severe weather. The clouds were forming
a squall line, probably still several hours away off to the south
and west towards San Angelo. Maybe those Aztlani soldiers will
get an appropriate welcome to the tornado belt , he thought.
David hoped some rain would cool things down, and maybe hinder the
Aztlani advance. Weather in Texas is notoriously unpredictable, and
quite often such storms just blow by without dropping any rain at
all, or they simply disappear.
    His father had sent messengers to gather at
Bethany as many Elders and members of the council as could be
reached on short notice. Jonathan Wall was trusted to act on behalf
of the community in case of emergency, but he felt strongly that
the situation required some unanimity in opinion among the
leadership. That would be hard, considering the current differences
of opinion on the defense issue.
    As the Pastor’s party rode south, the dust
from the road was so heavy and thick that everyone had bandanas or
balaclavas pulled over their mouths and noses.
    They negotiated the county road at a pretty
fast pace, considering the heat and season. Still, on occasion,
they would have to detour, following wagon-rutted tracks behind
cattle barns, around catchment tanks, or through fields of golden
wheat. The locals knew where the county road had been blocked, cut,
or otherwise made to be impassible. None of the old paved roads
between the ranch and Bethany existed any longer.
    Almost immediately after the collapse, the
paved roads had been blocked by trees and boulders, mostly by
locals seeking to stem, or at least slow, any bandit traffic.
Later, the pavement itself had been ripped up and used in dams and
other infrastructure projects. The plain people had no use for
paved roads, and saw them as a tangible evil—both a symptom and
cause of everything that had gone wrong with the old society.
    “Paved roads allow you to move faster,”
Father had said. “Moving faster leads to the sins of covetousness,
impatience, over-specialization, and inevitably produces the
idolatry of efficiency and utilitarianism. Eventually, these sins
lead to the death of faith, family, and just about everything else.
Paved roads shrink the world, but increase the real distance
between parents and children, friends, and brethren. Everything you
should hate is brought near, but everything you should love and
cherish moves far away from you.” His father repeated this message
many times, and the current state of the world after the collapse
bore witness to his beliefs. “Everything man-made that shrinks the
world,” his father would say, “is, at some level, an assault on God
who made the world.”
    Great minds must think alike, because he
couldn’t remember a paved road around here that was still intact.
Many years ago, when he was still a boy, his father had taken him,
and many of the men from the ranch, to the old city of Penateka,
two long days by wagon eastward from Bethany. Penateka used to be
the largest city in the area, and was a regular shopping
destination for