The camp was quiet for a time after the bus drove away. Without the dark cloud of Billings’ radical ravings hanging over everyone, life slowly began to be returned to the usual buzz of activities. Every once in a while even a bit of laughter and joy could be heard from the children on the playgrounds.
Maggie and the girls were given clothes and supplies. Both of the preacher’s campers were cleaned from top to bottom. Anything left behind that Maggie Sanders didn’t want was either trashed or cleaned and returned to the “trade” storage container for future distribution. Maggie and the girls moved into the larger of the two campers and settled in.
By six that afternoon, Jenkins and his men’s had returned. They parked the pick-ups then Jenkins walked up to Matt with a quiet smile.
“Billings’ wife never shut up. The whole way, she went on and on. God this…God that…judgment going to smite us all for letting that harlot kill God’s anointed. You get the picture.”
Matt grinned. “I’m glad to be rid of them. Where did you leave ‘em?
“We left them at a farm house in the middle of nowhere. I parked the bus, got out, and closed the door and flattened all the tires. Oh, a dozen dead bodies came stumbling out of the barn as we were driving away. I figured it would give them something to worry about besides us.
“You think they’ll make it?”
Jenkins shrugged. “Frankly, I hope not after what they did to Maggie’s family and the others.”
“Can’t say I feel much different,” Matt admitted. “But they got more of a chance than Billings gave the others. We sure didn’t need that crazy shit around here.”
Matt looked across the camp and realized how many people it now included. He glanced toward the playground where a dozen children from five to eleven played. The five teens brought in on the bus were in a corner with Larry learning how to defend themselves. Soon they would be ready for real firepower. As it was, they carried spears, and he would bet the kids could hold their own.
Even Carl, the young man with Downs Syndrome, was practicing. Despite his usual ungainliness, he was learning to defend himself. Matt smiled. They had kids who were becoming warriors. Larry ended his class and walked back toward the office while the kids went their separate ways, still carrying their spears.
“You got quite a gathering here,” Tate commented as she walked toward Matt.
“I guess about fifty or so adult.” Matt looked troubled. “Most could barely take care of themselves when they came.”
“What do you mean?
“Most of the women are pretty helpless. Only half a dozen or so had the skill to fight back if they got in trouble.”
“Larry is doing the training for the kids, why not the women?”
“We try, but the women are pretty busy between wiping noses, chores around camp, and all the damned laundry,” Matt observed as he walked away. “Not enough time, and not enough people to train ‘em.”
“Then do something about it,” Tate called after him. “I’m moving into the small camper. And you still owe me a trip to Hondo.”
Charlotte Hoaks. . . .(C. A. Hoaks) 