Love in the Dark

Chapter Seven

It took two weeks for their prayers to manifest in another visit from the "angel on horseback". The woman appeared again, this time she was astride the bay stallion, while she pulled a gray mare behind her. A shout went up when the guards saw her, and people came pouring out of the fellowship hall, eager to see this angel of mercy.

Seth crossed his arms over his chest. She didn't look much like an angel. Although, unlike the rest of them, she looked well fed and clean. The hood of her parka was pulled low over her face, and she wore a pair of blue jeans. Her body was small. Not an angel, Seth thought. She was also carrying the fabled shotgun across her thigh.

She stopped in the road, a good distance from the church. "Send out Pastor Bill!" she shouted, her voice slightly scratchy. No one needed to send for him. The tall preacher was pushing his way through the crowd, approaching her with confidence this time. The man truly believed the mysterious woman was sent by God. She didn't dismount. She reached behind her into the heavily laden packs and began pulling out supplies and tossing them carelessly toward the pastor. There was more rice, more beans, a box of powdered milk, and four canisters of instant oatmeal. Then she twisted around to the far side of the horse and struggled to drag something heavy over the horse's haunches. She tossed it to the ground at the Pastor's feet.

Pastor Bill gaped at the plastic-wrapped hunk of flesh, which appeared to be a hastily hacked rear hip and leg of a cow, with the hoof still attached. Pastor Bill swallowed nervously. "Did you... kill somebody's cow?" He was still a man of God. He wasn't sure if he could accept the meat if it had been procured through theft.

"It was a young steer," she corrected him. "I found it wandering alone down by the Creek. If I hadn't taken it, the coyotes would have gotten it." She narrowed her eyes at him. "If you don't want it, I'll take it back."

"No... no we want it; we are very grateful." PB hastily backpeddaled.

"Fine. You all need to start preparing that field behind the fellowship hall. Plant a garden."

"Oh. Well, that field doesn't actually belong to the church..."

She gave him a stern look. He squirmed, his arms too full to scratch the spot on the back of his neck that always got itchy when he was nervous. "And uh, we don't have seeds."

She looked impatient. "I'll bring seeds," she said lowly, "but you have to learn to be self-sufficient. I can't keep feeding this many people forever."

"R-right. We'd be so grateful, thank you. Thank you! Um, you never told us what your name is?"

She stared at him a long time, as if she was reluctant to answer. "Laura." She finally said. She glanced back at the crowd of people, and for the briefest instant her eyes collided with Seth's. He could have sworn that he saw something like recognition flicker there, even though most of her face was hidden by the hood of her jacket. She looked away and moved on, tugging the gray mare after her. They all watched her until she disappeared around the bend in the road.

Once she was gone, people rushed forward to take the food from the pastor. The mood that night was uplifted, as everyone got a ration of meat with their soup. People went into the church sanctuary that night to sing and pray and express their thanksgiving. Seth stayed back in the fellowship hall. He'd never been comfortable with religious people, and he was suspicious of the church as an institution. He went looking for his brother, but he seemed to have disappeared.

His mind kept turning to the "angel on horseback". The interaction had been brief, but ever so interesting. She seemed like a grumpy angel. Or at least an impatient one. No one seemed to comment on the fact that she was dragging a second horse behind her. And Joe didn't make any attempts to harvest horsemeat this time either.

After two weeks, she showed up again, very early in the morning. It was a cold, drizzly morning, and again she had the hood of her parka pulled low over her face. This time she dismounted to speak with PB. Their conversation was long, low and private before she began to unload her packs.

Instead of rice, she unloaded pasta, big boxes of macaroni, and industrial-sized cans of stewed tomatoes. There was more powdered milk, canisters of instant grits, and even a sack of sugar.

Pastor Bill pointed behind the fellowship hall, where the men had begun clearing an area for a garden. The old farmer who owned the field could not be found, so the men had moved forward on the basis that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission. All the new supplies had been carried into the dining hall, among cheers from the people who were gathered there.

"Listen up!" PB used his "preacher voice" to project his words through the hall. "I have a message from our friend."

A hush fell over the hall instantly. "Miss Laura said she is looking to hire one able-bodied man or woman to work at her home compound. She needs someone who will be honest, loyal and hard working. She is offering food, shelter and a small salary paid in coin. Plus, she promises that this person will learn valuable survival skills. Please see me if you are interested and I will put your name on the list. She will interview any interested candidates on her next visit."

The buzz grew so loud this time that he didn't even try to speak any more. Instead, he went to his wife and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on the top of her head.

George put his name on the list. There were already six other names scribbled down on the paper. He didn't think an accountant from New Jersey had a snow-ball's chance in hell, but he was going to try. Life in the camp was killing him slowly. The constant press of people, the smell of dirty humans, the religious nuts that would break out in prayer and start babbling nonsense, calling it "tongues." If there was a chance to get out of there, a chance to eat better, and a chance to learn how to live in this new hell, George was grabbing for it, with both hands.