continue all week until the last of us left. Over the following five days, I spoke to Albert, Morgan, Andrea and Martin Sr. All of them felt they were too old to make the arduous move and start over again. Albert was the only one who hadn't put on excess weight nor slowed down, but he felt he was needed there for his blacksmith skills. Vince would take the spare forge and tools with us. Andrea was the only one who was adamant about removing all the weapons. The others who decided to stay shook hands warmly, but their minds were made up. I didn't argue with them but thanked them sincerely for all their past support and hard work. That they couldn't accept the basis of my position didn't upset me; the danger they had chosen to expose their families to did.

Wagons left, returned and left again until all our possessions and small livestock were hauled away.

At the end of that week's work, Kira yelled, "Giddy Up" and slapped the reins on the two hind horses pulling the last wagon load of belongings. She'd told me the date was May Third, 2033. I sat atop a large roan stallion and waved to the few folks who'd come to say final farewells. Adam Whycoff had a wistful look as he spoke to me for several minutes before I turned my mount and rode off after the wagon.

Half of our group was in the garden patch harvesting string beans, cucumbers, late sweet corn and tomatoes. Some of the younger children had eagerly pitched in at first, but they soon grew bored with the work and turned to chasing each other in play. Before lunch, most of the men put our shirts back on to protect against the miserably hot early August sun.

We'd barely gotten started working after eating when Brittney Holescheck heard them first. "Look, over there on the road. People are shouting and waving at us."

We stared where she pointed and saw a small group of people scurrying in our direction. I recognized Morgan's lumbering gait first. We dropped our harvest baskets to the ground and hurried to the people we could now put names to. As we closed on them, Sarah Thompson sank to her knees and cried. Vernon Pitchford squatted and put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her close.

Morgan panted from the exertion of jogging the short distance, "Food and water? Got any with you? We've been walking three days and haven't eaten anything but some wild berries along the road and a couple of roasted squirrels."

Several women ran to our wagon where it was parked in the shade of a giant black oak. We encouraged our visitors to follow and sit in the shade to cool themselves. The women carried water jugs and food left over from our lunch to our friends. Able Jones moved to stand by his uncle Richard.

With trepidation, Richard spoke to the group in general, "What's happened? You didn't walk here just to be sociable."

Several spoke at once until the youngsters gave way to Morgan's deep, commanding voice. "Our compound was wiped out. A gang hit us a few mornings back and killed or captured everyone but us. I wasn't there until it was over, and they'd left. I was back in the woods where I make my wine when I heard the gunshots. I knew it was trouble, but I had no idea how bad it was. Vernon was there, tell them what you saw."

"It started the day before. A guy in his early to mid-twenties rode in near supper time; he was all smiles and friendly. Verlie and Morgan fed him, and then he spent the night in the horse barn loft. He had a long line of bull about where he was from. Said he lived with a small group over the other side of West Plains and was out exploring the countryside alone. The next morning, he had breakfast, thanked everybody profusely. Even said they'd come and visit soon before he rode on. All our people were tickled to learn there were other people nearby and they were friendly. A while later, an hour or maybe two, we heard horses approach on the road and stop. Then loud voices were raised. People were shouting and cussing like mad. Sarah and I were in the cow barn. We heard a couple of shots. She wanted to go back, but I talked her into waiting until we knew what was going on. It didn't look or sound right to me. We climbed to the loft and could see everything; that guy who left earlier was with those people. I counted five riding horses and two wagons. Two young women had their hands tied to the back of the first wagon on a long tether, so they could walk but not run away. I knew then it was going to end badly. The thieves all had guns and cleared everyone from all the cabins. They gathered them into a single group up by Doc's cabin. They tried to separate people into smaller groups, but John resisted strongly. One of the women gut shot him. He wasn't dead, but he was hurt bad. Marcie tried to help him and wouldn't leave him, so that same woman shot her too. People screamed, but then they did what they were told. Adults went in one group and the kids were herded into another; there were five kids. Then they grabbed Molly, Merriam and Elizabeth and pushed them aside. As soon as that was done those bastards shot all of the other adults. The girls and the kids screamed, but there was nothing they could do. Those animals killed them for no reason. They laughed and kicked the bodies and shot some again to make sure they were dead."

I knew more atrocities were about to be revealed from the tears and fearful to

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