Kyle Pratt - Through Many Fires

“Good morning everyone. For any new people, I’m Jim, an elder here at Hansen Community Church. Before we get started there are just a few announcements.” He paused to look at his notes. “Dave, the owner of the farm supply store, donated a greenhouse to the church. We’re going to use the large area behind the building for growing vegetables this spring. We need help assembling it and to put up a security fence. If you can assist, sign up at the desk just outside the sanctuary. Also, if you know where we can get more greenhouses, let us know.”

Good idea. Caden recalled seeing one along the freeway behind the burned-out home of a friend. There are probably more. We need to find a way to use things that no one claims.

Jim continued his announcements, “…and if the power stays off, like it has this weekend, the Doran’s will need help at their dairy and are willing to pay in milk, butter and cheese. Several farmers have told us that, if gas stays in short supply, they will need help with spring planting and probably harvest. They are willing to pay in food. That sign-up list is also out at the desk.”

Caden continued to think about greenhouses and other equipment the community might be able to find and gather. Suddenly he became aware of a different voice. An older man now stood at the front of the congregation.

“…will never forget those terrible events of less than a month ago. Many of us have lost family. Most of us know someone who died. The nuclear fires have tested the nation and our community. The aftermath of those terrible days continues to test us and they will be with us for years to come, but like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego of old, our nation has been through many fires and we have come out of it with our faith intact.

“God did not bring this wickedness down on us; He is not the author of evil. What we have seen is evil, in all its forms, working against the will and the plan of God.

“Much that was good has been burned away and lost, but like metal forged in flame, what is left behind is stronger than before that dark day. Now, as it says in Revelation, we need to, ‘wake up, and strengthen what remains.’ Our work isn’t done and the path will not be an easy one, but we need to take on this yoke and move forward. We have a community to rebuild and a nation to restore.”

Caden nodded inwardly. He had never put it into words, but strengthening what remained seemed an appropriate description of what he had been trying to do since he returned home. He stood with others as the music played and in that moment it seemed the struggle to save Hansen was a burden they all shared equally, but more than that, it was as if his own personal burdens were shared by everyone in the congregation. His mother would call what he felt the Holy Spirit. Caden wasn’t sure, but it felt good to be there. The next time he had the chance he would come willingly.

The sun was just past its zenith as Caden, Maria, Lisa and his mother, stepped from the car near the barter market. Lisa retrieved the cooler with the milk and eggs the family would use for trading and together they walked toward the bustling swap meet.

The library was surrounded by tables and stalls. The mixture of these with colorful tarps, smoke, music and lots of people gave the park a third-world bazaar look. As they neared, he saw Sheriff Hoover talking with two deputies off to one side of the square. “I’ve got to talk to Hoover. I’ll catch up with you,” Caden said to the ladies. As he approached, the deputies departed into the market.

After exchanging greetings, Caden got right to the point. “I have three pistols my men and I took from a shooting at the church by the freeway. Do you need them for an investigation?”

Hoover sighed and his face seemed instantly older. “Do you know how many murders we averaged in this county before this year?”

Caden shook his head.

“Four. Last year was a bad year, we had five. One was a double killing. Do you know how many have been killed in the county in the two months of this year?”

Again he shook his head.

“Neither do I. But it’s been hundreds, maybe a thousand, including two of my deputies.” He stopped, breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “The Highway Patrol hasn’t been to Hansen since that first attack on Washington D.C. I haven’t been able to contact the state crime lab since the Seattle blast.

“You’ve been trying to do the right thing since you got here and I appreciate that. I can’t hold the threads of civilization together alone. I trust that you did what you needed to do.” He paused and gave Caden a whimsical grin. “And besides, now that martial law has been declared, you’re in charge. What are your orders?”

It was Caden’s turn to sigh as he recalled the breathless announcement of martial law on Friday. “I haven’t received any orders since the declaration. We’ve been working well together. I don’t want to change that relationship if I don’t have to.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Before anyone could speak Hoover’s radio crackled. “415 in progress, corner of Birch and Main, the Salvation Army church. Request backup.”

“What’s a 415?”

Hoover shook his head and his eyes narrowed. “A disturbance. Probably people think there’s still food at the church.”

Caden asked if he needed help.

“No, you go on to the marketplace.” He looked up at the clear blue sky. “Enjoy the day. I’ve got to go.” The sheriff walked briskly to a patrol car and was off with sirens blaring.

Just inside the bazaar was a large bulletin board where community announcements had once been posted. Now the board was cluttered with “will trade for” signs. One in particular caught his eye. “NEED INSULIN. Tell me what you need.” It was followed by an address and phone number. Caden shook his head. Who would trade away insulin?

Next he came upon a man seated in a lawn chair with a rifle across his lap. On the blanket before him were a 12-gauge shotgun and two small-caliber rifles. Beside him sat a cardboard box with eight Labrador Retriever puppies bouncing around inside or hanging on the edges. On the front of the box, in bold black letters, was written, “Future Guard Dogs.” Caden laughed out loud.

The man smiled, “I’m thinking they will come in handy in the days ahead.”

“I think you’re right,” he replied and walked on. Past that on his left, a woman had chickens in a large cage. A goat was tied up beside her. A deputy stood talking with a woman at another stall. On the table between them were dozens of jars of honey and honeycomb. The deputy and Caden exchanged nods as he walked by. Farther down, he noticed a couple selling trout and other fish that he couldn’t name. The woman caught his eye, she had long, wavy, red hair.

On a nearby table were packages of dried meat. The sign hanging below read, “Deer, Elk and Beef Jerky for Trade.” At the next stall was an old man reloading and selling ammunition. The sign beside him listed calibers and read, “Will Trade for Brass.” Several guns were on display behind the counter.

“What does he mean, ‘Will Trade for Brass?’ Does he want scrap metal?”

Caden turned and smiled at Maria a step behind him. “Sort of. In this case he wants used bullet cartridges. He can reload them and make new ammo.”

Maria watched as he made one.

“Where’s Mom and Lisa?”

“Trading for food we need.”

Caden stood beside Maria and together they watched as a few more cartridges were reloaded. He hadn’t seen any paper money during his walk through the market. He noticed a few silver coins passed in trade, but the de facto currencies were guns, ammunition and food. With those anyone could barter for anything in the market.