Phoenix Rising

and I’m all right with it.”

“Are you sure?” Karin asked.

Becky nodded. “I am sure,” she said.

Karin smiled. “Folks, we are going to be getting an addition to our little community. Becky is pregnant.”

“What?” Sarah asked. “Who is the father?”

“I don’t know,” Becky replied.

“You don’t know?”

“Before anyone asks, I already knew about it, and I’m not the father,” Marcus said. He was sitting next to Becky, and he reached out to take her hand in his.

“Do you remember the time when the men came and robbed you, and you found Becky unconscious on the road?” Karin asked. “She was raped. This pregnancy is the result of that.”

“And you are going to have the baby of a rapist?” Sarah asked, incredulously.

“Sarah, you can’t be just a little pregnant,” Becky said. “I’m three months pregnant—it has only one possible conclusion.”

“You can abort,” Sarah said.

“I don’t want an abortion.”

“But the baby’s father is a rapist.”

“And I am its mother,” Becky said. “You cannot hold a child guilty for the sins of its parents. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I’ve kept it secret all these months. The way I look at it, this child, be it boy or girl, is the first link to my future. I will have this child.”

“And we will be here for you,” Ellen said. She looked at Sarah. “Won’t we?”

Sarah broke into a smile, then went over to give her aunt a hug. “Yes,” she said. “We will be here for you.”

Gaye and Cille brought the two geese out. They were golden brown and aromatic. The table was also set with carrots and peas, mashed potatoes and biscuits, and scuppernong jelly.

“Jake, before you give your blessing, I have something for you,” Karin said.

Jake looked at Karin with an expression of surprise and concern. “You do?”

Karin laughed. “Don’t get nervous, it’s not what you think,” she said, and the others, who by now knew of the depth of commitment between Jake and Karin, laughed as well.

“What is it?”

She went into the little cabin that she shared with Julie, then came out with something wrapped in a sweater. Smiling broadly, she opened up the sweater to show what she was holding.

It was a can of root beer.

“Ahhh!” Jake said. “I haven’t had a root beer in three months! I love you! I could kiss you!”

Karin laughed. “James found it in one of the houses,” Karin said. “So if you are going to kiss anybody, you need to kiss James.”

“Okay, James, I’ll kiss you too,” Jake said. He held up his finger. “But there will be no tongue.”

The others laughed again.

“A handshake will do,” James said.

Jake took the root beer from Karin, kissed her, then carried it over to the table and put it down lovingly by his plate.

“I’m sorry there’s not enough to go around for all of you,” he said.

“That’s all right, Jake. I’ve gotten used to drinking water,” Deon said. “It’s a lot healthier for you anyway.”

Bowing his head, Jake began the blessing.

“Unser himmlischer Vater—Our Heavenly Father, I ask that you bless these wonderful people today for their generous hearts, helping hands, and loving souls. And we thank you for the women who prepared the meal that will sustain us through this day. Segnen Sie dieses Essen zu unserer Verwendung, und wir zu Ihrem Dienst—bless this food to our use, and ourselves to thy service. Amen.”

He had included the German phrases in the blessing because it was an Amish prayer, the same prayer Mr. Yoder had prayed when Jake had gone back home to help build the barn. He wondered for a moment about his parents, and added a silent prayer for them.

“Now, let’s eat,” he said, popping open the can of root beer.

After a very satisfying meal, Bob went back into his and Ellen’s quarters. As he did every day, he turned on the TV, then hit search.

Suddenly the search stopped and a picture filled the screen.

“Hey!” he shouted. He ran to the door and stuck his head out. “Hey! We’ve got TV!”

“What?”

“We’ve got TV!” Bob shouted again.

The others came running down to Bob’s apartment ; then all of them crowded in, finding seats anywhere they could.

At the moment the screen was blue, with the words STAND BY.

The standby card went away to be replaced by a picture. The man in the picture, short blond hair, cherubic face, slightly pudgy, was familiar to them all.

“It’s George Gregoire!” Jake said.

Hello, America.

This is a simulcast over shortwave radio, satellite radio, and satellite TV. That’s right, I’m back on TV, though the size of my TV audience is probably less than a cable access show of the joys of scrap-booking. Nevertheless, I am extremely proud of our little group of technicians who have managed to put our show up on the bird so that those with electricity and a TV can see us.

First, I will bring you up to date on the latest news we have been able to gather.

It appears that the so-called Islamic Republic of Enlightenment holds only Washington, D. C., and Detroit. The fact that they hold our capital city has given them a great deal of cachet in the rest of the world, but we, here in America, know that they are unable to expand beyond that. Already there have been isolated and uncoordinated raids against the Enlightened ones, none of which, at this point, have been much more than a nuisance. In the meantime the Enlighteneds’ atrocities against our people, especially the women and children, continue.

Ohmshidi is alive and well, somewhere, we know not where. From time to time he will make a radio broadcast to rally his base.

Really? Rally his base?

Tell me, friends, does he even have a base any longer? I think not. I think that once we reestablish control, put decent Americans back to work, and reconstitute our government, we will then have time to find Ohmshidi and bring him to justice for all the crimes he has committed.

That means we have much to do, America, and since last I spoke to you much has been done. I have been contacted on 5110LSB by several groups of brave Americans who have banned together to fight this evil that has come into our midst. I will not disclose at this time how many groups I have been in contact with, where they are, or what their strength is. I will only say that for the first time since Ohmshidi was elected president, I am feeling optimistic.

It is my sincere belief that there are many, many more groups than have yet made contact with me, so I feel that, even though Americans made the colossal mistake of sending an arrogant, incompetent fool to the White House, those same Americans are now prepared to rectify that mistake.

During those days when we existed as a democratic republic, we often heard one party or another—whichever party was out of office—adopt the political slogan, “Take back America.”

Well, my friends, this is no longer empty political rhetoric. This is a real, and vital, battle cry. And I urge you, with all that is in my being, to hold yourselves in readiness until we can coalesce as a mighty