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  Aedan hurried to keep up. "Well, and in case I need to put down an injured animal. Then I wouldn't have to waste a rifle round."

  Jim nodded again, smiling. "Yeah, that's another good reason. Of course, you could just call me or Christian or Mike."

  They nodded at some workers carrying benches to the tables set up for the night's festivities.

  "Yeah, but what if I'm out in the woods and you're not around? It just seems like I ought to have a pistol just in case."

  He realized he had hit on the best reason and looked at his dad. "You always talk about just in case, right?"

  Jim raised a hand to several men who were turning a hog over a large make-shift fire pit outside the main hall and chuckled. "Yes, I do, and that's exactly what a pistol is for. Just in case."

  They walked for several minutes in silence, nodding at those they passed, until they stepped from the light of the lower field into the cooler shade of the trees. There, they paused, acclimating their senses to the environment of the woods.

  "So, when can I have one?" Aedan whispered, observing the quiet rule of the forest.

  Jim looked around the woods for a moment, then at his son. "We'll see. You lead."

  Choosing a faint game trail, Aedan moved easily into the woods. When he had first started training with Christian and Mike, his steps had been heavy and his movements erratic. Now, his steps were lighter and his movements smoother, though he still hadn't reached the ghostly ease of Mike, Naomi or some of the strikers, the elite units of the scouts. About fifty yards in, he stopped, tuning in as Naomi called it. He slowed his breathing and consciously opened his senses, willing each to expand into the world around him.

  Gradually, his tunnel vision melted into a more circumferential awareness in which he seemed to see all things equally and at once. His hearing attuned to the sounds of the forest around him until he could differentiate between them. He smelled the leaves and earth and could almost taste the previous night's rain. Tuned in, he started off.

  The trail descended through stands of oak and maple, the canopy of the large trees shading the sparse undergrowth sprinkled with intermittent dogwoods and mulberries until it came to a wet-weather creek that was trickling with runoff from the recent rains.

  Aedan raised his hand to stop them about fifty yards from the creek. Stopping short of roads, waterways and open spaces for surveillance was standard scout procedure.

  "What are you watching?" Jim asked quietly.

  "Left, front and right," Aedan answered, just as quietly.

  "How about behind you?"

  Aedan smiled. "That's your job."

  Jim gave a low chuckle. "The Patriot."

  "What?"

  "That's the movie we're going to watch tonight. The Patriot."

  Aedan smiled but didn't divert his attention from his primary task. "I like that one."

  "So do I. What was the real name of the holiday we celebrate on July fourth?"

  "Independence Day."

  "And did we get our independence when the declaration was signed?"

  "No. We had to fight a war."

  "Who did we fight?"

  "Great Britain."

  "And why did we want our independence?"

  "Because the British government had become oppressive."

  "Yep. That's something to keep in mind."

  Aedan nodded. These impromptu quizzes peppered his days. Whether it was his dad, Christian or Mike, he had become used to his knowledge being tested on any number of topics and had come to enjoy it. They waited for another minute in silence before he gave the signal to move forward.

  They stayed inside the tree line as they followed the course of the creek, passing the no-go hill on their swing to the west and coming up the ridgeline that brought them to the lookout tower to the west of the main house, where they stopped.

  The day was warming up, and each took a canteen out of their belt pouch to take a drink.

  Jim looked as his son. "You're getting pretty good."

  Aedan took the canteen from his mouth and wiped some dribble off his chin with the back of his hand. "Thanks. Good thing we didn't see a snake, since I don't have a pistol to shoot it with."

  Jim laughed. "And what kind of pistol are you thinking about?"

  Aedan took another drink, thinking fast. He had just been throwing out feelers, but it seemed like his dad was actually considering it. "I'm not really sure."

  He looked at the large Smith & Wesson Model 57 on his dad's belt. "I like ones like yours, but Mike says that's a revolver, not a pistol like he and most of the other guys carry."

  Jim chuckled. "That's a younger guy's distinction. Or maybe military, I'm not sure. Back in my day, we called all handguns pistols, just like we called magazines clips. Then people seemed to start getting all hyped up over terminology, arguing about who was right and who was wrong."

  He shrugged. "The old gunfighters were called pistoleros and they weren't carrying Glocks and 1911s. In fact, the word pistol comes from the French pistolet, which comes from something I don't remember, which meant a gun intended to be fired with one hand."

  He took another drink and looked at his son. "Like so many things in life, it's how you do it, not how you talk it. There are a lot more talkers than doers, and you'll usually find that the more someone talks, the less they do or did. Carry what you want and call it what you want. Now that there's no YouTube, you don't have to worry about a bunch of keyboard warriors telling you that you don't know what you're talking about when you're doing things they never have."

  Aedan laughed. "That's pretty much what Christian said." He looked at his dad's gun again in its cross-draw holster. "Why do you wear yours like that instead of on your side like the others?"

  Jim let his rifle hang to his side and put the canteen back in its pouch. "I'll show you."

  He squared himself to Aedan and clasped his hands in front of him about belt high. Have you ever noticed that a lot of us stand like this when we're watching something or talking to people?"

  Aedan thought for a moment. "Well, Bill stands with his hands in his pockets and Tom stands with his hands at his sides. So does Mike, sometimes."

  Jim smiled. "You're pretty observant. You're right. Bill stands with his hands in his pockets a lot because he was a lawyer and used to wearing suits that have vertical pants pockets that lended themselves to putting hands in them. It's just comfortable. The military guys were taught to keep their hands out of their pockets because it detracts from a professional appearance when in uniform and keeps their hands ready. But you'll notice that a lot of cops and fighters hold their hands in front of them like this so that they can respond to a sudden attack. It's kind of an almost-ready stance."

  He saw that Aedan was listening closely and continued. "So, when I'm standing like this, how close is my hand to my gun?"

  Aedan looked, beginning to understand. "Just a couple of inches."

  Jim nodded. "That's right."

  "So you can draw faster when you wear it like that?"

  Jim shrugged. "There's an old saying that slow is smooth and smooth is fast. It's not about drawing fast, but about getting your gun into play in time and hitting your target."

  He raised his gun, pointing it to the side. "Did you see me draw?"

  Aedan's eyes widened as he shook his head. "I was listening to you, looking at your face."

  Jim nodded, re-holstering his gun. "If you need to shoot something, you should already have your gun in your hand. If a person needs to draw fast, it usually means that he has missed a clue or two that he may need his gun. If you need your gun it should be in your hand, not your holster. The reason you didn't notice me draw was because it came out smoothly from where it was. You would have noticed if I had drawn from a holster on my right side because there would have been more movement in my arm and shoulder."

  He looked at his son and saw that he was understanding. "The key is not to get ready, but to be ready."

  Aedan nodded in understandi
ng. "What's that?" he asked, suddenly looking to the north.

  Jim turned in the direction Aedan was looking to see a low black cloud on the horizon. "The city. The watch crews have reported an increasing number of fires over the past few weeks."

  "You think there's people still alive there?"

  Jim thought for a moment. "Yeah, maybe," he answered slowly, "though I can't imagine what it would be like."

  Aedan looked at his dad. "Do you think it's like ... " he paused, "like that Lowe's store?"

  Jim continued to watch the smoke, thinking about how much he should say. The basics of the captives and cannibalism at the Lowe's that Grim had taken over had been shared with all of the residents of Stonemont and its surrounding communities, even with the older children, but some of the more gruesome details had been shared more judiciously. Still, Aedan was mature beyond his years and it was important that he learn the harsh realities of this new world he was growing up in.

  He nodded. "Yeah, maybe worse.”

  Aedan looked up, a questioning look on his face. "Worse than at Grim's? What could be worse than that?"

  Jim thought about answering, but now was not the time. He patted his son on the shoulder. "We'll talk about it later. Let's head back and see what's going on."

  All the tables had chairs and benches around them when they re-entered the commons, and women were setting up the long line of serving tables where the food would be placed.

  Children ran around while the women tried to control them, the excitement of the day and the promise of fireworks later that night being too much to contain, and most of the men who had carried out the tables and benches now stood around the pit talking and watching the hog roast.

  "Do you mind if I go find Brody and Morgan?" asked Aedan.

  Jim shook his head. "No, go ahead. Clear and rack your rifle and have a good time."

  "Okay," Aedan smiled. "I'll see you later."

  Jim watched as Aedan walked toward the house, his rifle hanging by his side.

  "He's getting big, isn't he?"

  Jim turned to see Christian walking toward him from the direction of the hall. He nodded. "Yeah, he is."

  He turned back to watch his son. "I just realized the other day that I'm not looking down at him much anymore."

  Christian stopped next to him. "He's going to be taller than you pretty soon. Smart, too. Was I that smart when I was his age?"

  Jim smiled and shook his head. "I don't know, but I know I wasn't. He's a different kind of smart."

  He turned to Christian and nodded up at his Stetson. "You're starting to look almost normal in that thing."

  Christian chuckled. "Thanks. I started wearing it mainly because I think it makes Naomi feel good since her dad and brothers headed back, but I'm starting to get used to it."

  Jim nodded. "How's she doing?"

  "She's doing great. It was really a mind-twist for her to have her family show up like that and great that her mom is staying longer. I'm seeing a whole new part of her."

  Jim looked at him sideways. "Is it a good part?"

  Christian smiled. "Yeah."

  "So, married life is good?"

  Christian's smile broadened. "Yeah."

  "And you get along with her family okay?"

  "Yep, they're good people."

  Jim nodded slowly, looking around the commons. "Yes, they are. Hopefully, they're indicative of what populates a lot of the country."

  He looked at his nephew. "What do you think about things around here?"

  Christian thought for a minute. He knew that the question was more than just idle chat. Jim was asking for an informal report before the next day's meeting.

  "I'd say it's about ninety-five percent good. We're accomplishing a lot and I'd say that security is pretty tight. Of course, like we've said before, we haven't really been tested. We may not be as good and tight as we think we are, but I don't see any potential threats at the moment."

  Jim looked at him. "You think that's going to hold?"

  Christian shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Our scouts are going farther out, and Mike says they haven't run into any real problem areas yet. Of course, we haven't probed the inner suburbs or the city. No telling what we would find if we did."

  Jim nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think we should?"

  Christian looked at his uncle closely. "What? Probe the city?"

  Jim nodded.

  Christian thought for a minute. He hadn't really considered it and no good reason immediately came to mind. "For what purpose?"

  "That's what I'm asking you. Can you think of any good reason that we should?"

  Christian shook his head. "Not right off. I'm sure there's a lot of stuff in there we could use, but at what risk? I can't think of anything we really need.”

  He looked at Jim. “Are you thinking about it?"

  Jim stood for a moment without answering, scanning the commons while he thought. "Kelly is going to bring something up at the council tomorrow. I think I'll wait till then. I still haven't thought it through myself."

  "The council?" chuckled Christian. "Is that what we're calling our meetings now?"

  Jim smiled and nodded. "I always hated meetings. I even hate the word. I used to say that meetings were what managers and bureaucrats did when they didn't know what to do or wanted to hide their decisions or incompetence in a group. Council sounds better."

  Christian laughed. "Does that make me a councilor?"

  Jim smirked. "Would you like a little name plaque?"

  Christian puffed up his chest and grinned with fake pride. "Nope, the title is enough. I can't wait to tell Naomi."

  Jim chuckled. "I'm sure. What do you have going on this afternoon?"

  Christian pushed his hat back on his head. "Naomi is going to be helping Kelly with the medicinal herb class so I'm going to ride over to town and check on things. You want to come?"

  Jim shook his head. "No, thanks. I think I'll just wander around for a while and relax. I'll see you when you get back."

  Christian nodded. "Okay. See you in a bit."

  Jim watched Christian walk toward the stables, then turned his attention back to the commons. The laughter of the playing children was soul-filling to him and was a perfect complement to the activities of the adults working around them. The challenges of the past year had caused a real feeling of community to develop among those who now called Stonemont and Jamestown their homes, and a new sense of promise seemed to permeate everything they did.

  He walked over to talk with the men at the barbecue pit for a few minutes, then headed toward the woods that separated the main compound from the old Eddington place to the east.

  He thought about the Eddingtons as he entered the trees, wondering what had happened to the family. Bruce Eddington had been some kind of computer analyst who travelled a lot and his wife Linda had quit her job as a nurse at a local hospital to homeschool their two kids, a boy and a girl. They had moved from a nice neighborhood in the suburbs to get away from the economic and social stresses of the hectic lifestyle they had lived and had been trying to establish a simpler, more value-centered life in the country. He thought that Bruce might have been on a business trip when the collapse happened, but he didn't know about Linda and the kids, though he knew that she often took them into the city on field trips to the zoo or to Science City in Union Station. None of them had returned, and he stopped himself from bringing their faces to mind before he could form thoughts of what had probably happened to them.

  He stopped for a moment, consciously pushing the past away and refocusing on the present. Years before, he had run every day on a trail that followed the bank of Indian Creek in eastern Johnson County. It had been a high stress time in his life, and while the running had helped keep his physical energy high, it had been the time at the end of the runs when he had slipped into the woods and stood knee-deep in the fast-flowing creek that settled and cleared his mind. The woods had always done that for him, and he found himself being draw
n to an area where he had rarely ventured.

  Following a sense more than an actual trail, he ascended a gradual rise through the trees until he came to a small clearing on the crest of the hill. In the center of the clearing was the outline of an old stone foundation almost covered with moss and towered over by a stone chimney blackened with soot from the fire that had claimed the building.

  He stopped, looking at the chimney and foundation and thought about how well they served as a metaphor for the world around them. Walking beyond them, he looked out over the land below.

  To the east, he could see almost to the Missouri state line. To the north, the tip of Redemption's steeple poked through the trees to indicate the location of Church Crossing. Looking to the west, he could see miles of rolling hills, and to the south, miles of checkerboard fields. Looking back to the north, he saw that the smudge of dark smoke from the city had seemed to grow.

  He watched the smoke for several minutes, trying to imagine the scene of its origin, then, seeing a seat-high stump, sat down to think.

  2

  Bill Garner was trying to dodge all the running children when he saw Jim emerging from the woods. It was still about an hour before tree-top, but the kids were getting antsy for both food and fireworks and had finally broken through the half-hearted attempts of their mothers to settle them down. Carefully navigating through the ever-changing mass of young, screaming humanity, he moved toward Jim until he was within shouting distance. "Where have you been? Everybody has been looking for you!"

  Jim answered with something that was lost in the shriek of a girl running past Bill.

  "What?" he yelled.

  "I've been in the woods," Jim shouted.

  "Yeah?" said Bill, drawing within conversation distance. "Doing what?"

  "Thinking," answered Jim, stopping and looking around the commons.

  "Thinking? About what?"

  Jim continued looking around for a moment, then looked at Bill. "Everything."

  "Everything? So, do you have all that quantum physics stuff figured out?"

  Jim chuckled, looking at Bill sideways. "I think you've been spending too much time around Christian."