Chapter 24
In Spirit And Truth
Services were set for late in the morning on Wednesday. The Daughters of the King with Sister Bernard filled up four cars and a pickup truck with food, sandwiches, kool-aid coolers, and bags of bananas. The whole community of Sewanee got into the act this time. Scott Brannon and the professor followed later. It was another warm November day, perfect like picnic weather should be. It took them less than ten minutes to slowly move out to Sanctuary. As they turned into the campsites, they heard children singing. It was a heavenly sound, comforting, and uplifting. From one corner of the campground, they could hear the Lord’s Prayer being sung, from another, the Psalm of the day, then the sharp sounds of clapping with following shouts of, "And also to you!"
Sister Bernard grinned and clapped, saying, "Isn’t this exciting? It’s like when I was a kid. My folks were Baptist, and we went to church and had a songfest with feeding on the grounds."
They all laughed at the Sister's enthusiasm with her excitement bubbling over, which was contagious. The kids saw them driving up and swarmed their cars. They were hugging the Sister and mobbing the rest. They were told that the ladies with the bananas and Kool-Aid were coming today. It was the best welcome any of them could ever ask for. They looked around for the angels and noticed there weren’t any.
"Where are the angels?" asked Sister Bernard to a little boy.
"Oh, they’re staying away this morning, but they said they’ll be around. Do you know the angels too?"
She picked the boy up and kissed him saying, "Of course, I do. I know Irish, and Aaron, and Isaac."
The boy interrupted, "Do you know all of Irish’s sisters?" He waited for her answer.
"How many sisters does Irish have?" asked Sister Bernard.
"Oh, she's got gobs of them. They like to take care of us littler ones, and they’re good cooks too."
Sister Bernard was fascinated with the other angels like Irish, but she was on a mission. "But how about Aaron and Isaac?"
"They left a couple days ago, right before we all got baptized in the cave." He pointed to the Boy Scout storage units, and the Sister shook her head, not understanding but thinking, "What cave?"
"Looks like I have a lot of catching up to do. Here, you take this jug of juice over to the," then she spotted the outdoor kitchen, "over there, I guess."
Enya and Nash came running over and embraced the Sister. They picked up some grocery bags and headed back to the kitchens with the Sister running after them. "Sister, the kids have been practicing for church since yesterday. They’re so excited."
"Enya, Enya, wait a minute! I have to talk with the angels, including you and Nash before we leave. Dar-Raven is up to no good."
Enya slowed to an easy walk while answering, "We know, he sent some helicopters to kill the kids. Or kill some of them, we believe. Hoping to drive us out of Sanctuary, we think."
"Yes, yes, that’s exactly what he wants to do. A battalion of soldiers set up camp at the interstate covering the top of the mountain as well as the Westside where the battle took place. They are blocking anyone from getting here, including food." Suddenly, the Sister realized what had been done at the camp. "Where did these buildings
come from and the cross, and where have you been getting enough food to take care of the children?"
"Whoa Sis, one at a time." She laughed at the Sister’s big eyes. She thought it must seem strange to have so much done in such a short time. More miracles she thought.
"You should know. You called different places to get folks to help. You haven’t seen how helpful they were. The buildings came from those same people, and so did the first couple of days’ rations. The angels bring us what else we need. The cross is to the thanks of Isaac, Caleb, and Aaron. They made it special just for us and put on quite a show for the local folks. Afterwards, Aaron asked them to continue to pray for the kids, but they needed to leave. He told them this place was sanctified only for the children."
"Oh my, is it okay for us to be here?" she asked.
"Oh mercy, yes! You’re our guests, but this place is truly run by the kids. You remember, Keel?" she said as she pointed to Keel standing on a make-shift stage made of plywood on cinder blocks.
"He saved my life. How could I forget him? He really seems to be in charge. Look at him, directing everything." She pointed his direction, and Keel looked up, then waved at the Sister and returned to his tasks.
"He is, Sister Bernard. He is. God has chosen Keel to lead the children. He even baptized the kids yesterday in our private, underground swimming pool." The Sister looked where Enya was pointing and still couldn’t figure out where it was.
"It’s just like God to take a kid and anoint him to do what God needs done. Kind of makes seminary look a little silly," replied the Sister.
"Sister Bernard, not silly, just no time, no more time. This is the end. There can’t be much left now, don’t you think?"
"Bless the Lord, yes, Enya, yes."
She smiled happily, and they both started unloading sandwiches from their bags, then putting them in two-foot stacks on the tables. She was confident that God would take care of the kids, regardless of Dar-Raven’s soldiers. Their understanding of Dar-Raven’s intentions meant a lot. She couldn’t count on Sewanee’s response about the soldiers; but as far as she was concerned, it would have to work out.
The children were getting organized and filling up the rock arena. They had put the stage in front of the cross, and the kids covered the ground like a huge ant colony—working from the ground all the way to the top of the arena. There were thousands of kids carrying boards, but they didn't sit on them, just put them on the ground in front of them.
The Daughters of the King pointed to them questioningly, "What are they for?"
"Got me?" another said, "never can tell with kids. Let’s go get a front row seat."
In front of the plywood stage, the kids put 21 rocks; and when they saw the Daughters of the King heading their way, they put pillows on them.
When the Sister got there, she said, "Hey, padded pews folks. You can’t ask for any more than this."
Scott and the professor arrived driving a Suburban. They had it filled with prayer books and boxes of service leaflets with instruction material. Scott was a little apprehensive, not knowing what to expect. He especially hoped there wouldn't be any miracles. That would be too much for him to come to terms with. As he got out of the vehicle, a little child came running up and handed them a program.
"What’s that?" asked the professor.
The professor was even more skeptical than Scott. They were also here to bring back a report. The professor had already made up his mind that the kids were nothing more than a band of heathens. What could kids know about doing church? When he saw all the activity, he sized it up as chaos, but it was some pretty well-organized team work.
"It’s a program! It’s liturgy! Look at this, Professor! The kids made up a program with crayons and colored paper. This is great! It’s got the acclamation and all the parts. This isn’t half bad. I mean for a bunch of kids."
Scott was caught off guard. He expected nothing even close to high church here. Something about being at Sanctuary was changing his sarcasm. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted to find it all messed up, but something in him said it may not be.
"Let’s give the kids a break, Professor. After all, this place belongs to the children."
The professor was shocked to hear Scott say that, but not more shocked than Scott. "Haven’t we always taught tolerance? Us Anglicans have always been accepting of everybody and anything. Why change now? Let’s see if we can help."
Scott said to himself, "What’s happening to me? I can’t believe I’m feeling excited about the service. Why am I excited about what these kids can do?" He pinched himself for feeling so strange and so upbeat about it all, but he couldn’t help himself.
Nash and Cole approached the professor and Scott and shoo
k Scott’s hand as they grabbed the prayer books. "Thanks Father Scott. The kids have it pretty well planned out, but we’ll need this stuff for the next time." The professor refused to shake their hands and stuck them in his pockets.
Scott caught Nash by the arm and asked, "Who’s the acting priest for the service today, Cole?"
"You’ll see," said Nash as he smiled and carried off a box and put it under a tree.
"Hey, Nash, I have something else which may be helpful." Scott went back and pulled out a ten-foot pole, which he quickly attached a cross.
"Fantastic, Father Scott, fantastic! Thank you so much. Just a loner, huh?"
He took it from Scott and heard him saying after him, "You’re not kidding. They’d kill me if All Saints knew I borrowed it." It was a beautiful Celtic cross of heavy, inlaid silver, mounted royally on a walnut pole.
The kids were all seated, and they gave Scott and the professor the highest seats in the back. When Keel saw Scott, he came up and introduced himself. "I’m so glad you came. Your people have been wonderful to us. First, helping us get to the top of Sewanee, then food, and thanks to your Anglican input, we actually have some form of worship. Father Scott, don’t be surprised. We’re only kids here. We know little of your worship ways. We've prayed together and came up with our own worship. If adults participate, I'll not be able to help them. God has called me to lead the children, not the grownups."
Keel turned and left for the grand entrance. The professor exclaimed, "What in the heck did he mean about being their leader? A 16-year-old can’t lead these kids!" The professor was hyperventilating, and his face turned red.
Scott put his hand on the professor’s shoulder and said, "Chill out, Sam. He’s right. This is one place where we are, not only out numbered 5000 to 2, but what he is said is true. Children must lead the children."
Scott shook his head again. Where did he ever come up those thoughts? Was he going crazy? Deep down inside he knew what Keel said was the way it had to be. The professor sat down on his rock with his arms crossed while putting his head on his knees.
Scott saw him and thought, "Jimminie Cricket, the man is pouting. And to think this guy taught me hermeneutics."
The procession was simple. A child carried the cross upfront and placed it in a knot hole on the stage. The children, as on cue, bowed their heads as it went by in true Anglican tradition. Keel stood in front of them with his blue jeans and his long-sleeve t-shirt, wearing the green Trinity sash. He reached back and picked up the Shepherd’s Staff, raising it into the air and shouted,
“Prepare ye the way of the Lord!
Prepare ye the way of the Lord!”
The children resounded, thundering back with their hands raised in the air.
“Prepare ye the way of the Lord!
Prepare ye the way of the Lord!”
The Daughters of the King and Sister Bernard clapped and slapped each other on their backs, "It’s great! It’s wonderful! So much life! So much wonderful Godly noise! Only kids can do it like that!" The Sister was happily beside herself.
The professor looked up and saw the Shepherd’s Staff and started to go ballistic, "It’s the Bishop’s Staff, his Crosier! I can’t believe it! He can’t do that! Who does he think he is?"
Scott grabbed him again, and this time forced him to sit down saying, "Sam, you need to calm down! What do you expect from children? This is their place not ours. You’re the guest here, just like I am. So chill out, now!" Scott couldn’t believe he was talking to his old professor this way, but the Holy noise of the acclamation rocked him deep in his inner man, and he couldn’t help but love it.
The children immediately went into a praise hymn. It didn’t take long to get the main chorus down, and the presence of God swelled up in everyone’s heart. They couldn’t stop singing for almost 20 minutes. Their hands were in the air, and they swayed with the music as tears ran down the kids’ faces. They were in the presence of God and felt the anointing pouring out onto them.
Keel shouted at the top of his lungs, "The Lord be with You!"
The kids shouted a grand response that shook the arena, "And also with you!" Thousands of kids with their wooden boards stomped the boards in unison to accent their shout. The sound of it cracked the sky, and it was earth shattering.
Keel, "Let us pray."
When he ended the prayer, the kids applauded and hooted. "Whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop" while making circle movements with their hands.
A little kid came up and read the scripture. As he ended it, he shouted to the kids, "The Word of the Lord!"
They all yelled back together, "Thanks be to God!" and clapped together, accenting the end of their proclamation.
They sang the Psalms, using a chant of high-and-low note rhythm. It was haunting and mystic. Their voices carried through the trees and pushed their sound against the leaves and heavenward.
They had another scripture reading with more exuberant responses until Keel got up and read the Gospel to them. They went completely silent, and his voice was like his father’s. Even now, it was anointed more powerfully than his father’s had ever been, and his words cut through to the very soul. The kids felt the Word of God more than heard it, and it fed and nourished them. They felt their hearts overflowing with the Holy Spirit.
He was reading from his own chosen scripture. John 14:1-3,6, 12-14, "The Holy Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ according to John."
The children shouted back, "Glory to you. Lord Christ!"
Keel continued, '"Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.'"
"Jesus said to him, 'I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me. Most assuredly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father. And whatever you ask in My name, that I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask anything in My name, I will do it.'"
Keel raised his hand in the air shouting, "The Gospel of the Lord!"
The children clapped and shouted back, "Praise to you, Lord Christ!"
The professor was furious, and Scott thought he might have a stroke. When Scott tried to calm him, he kept pushing him away like a traitor. He kept saying, "Someone needs to stop this! Someone needs to stop this!" Scott thought the professor might do something stupid like actually trying to stop the service.
Scott prayed, "Lord, this is new to me too; but somehow, I believe it’s Your will. Help me to control the professor, please."
Scott felt someone behind him, but he felt more than just someone; he saw the winged shadows of many behind him. Around him, the colors of the air were changing to rainbow colors.
The professor stood up with his fist clinched saying to Scott, "If you believe this kid is qualified to do this, then I suppose you believe in those angels too? What kind of idiot do you take me for? I’m an educated man, not some dimwit!"
Scott caught a good look at Irish out of the corner of his eye. He answered the professor, "As a matter of fact, I do?"
He couldn’t very well deny what he was seeing or experiencing. Something else started changing with Scott. He seemed to hunger for a miracle, and he felt his skepticism melting away. Scott recognized Irish from somewhere else. He had seen her before but couldn’t place it. He thought it may have been at a funeral. He wasn’t sure, but she was all too familiar to him. Who could forget a woman as beautiful as Irish? He thought she may have been connected to someone at Sewanee, but he couldn’t remember who.
Keel spoke loudly while trying to project his voice to the very tops of the arena. "Jesus promised us another house. Hey kids, it’s in heaven, but it’s right here too. Jesus pro
mised a place just for us. Hey kids, this is it! Jesus..." then he saw the professor on the brink of losing it.
The professor started to shout, "You can’t…"
Keel saw and heard the professor. He made the movement of zipping up his lips and locking them closed, then throwing a key over his shoulder. The angels reached out and touched the professor. He felt their hands all over his back, then he felt nothing in his throat. No words, little air, and he couldn’t speak. He saw Keel’s sign language and couldn’t believe this was happening to him, a true Zacharia experience. He panicked and turned to run back to the truck, but he was facing 51 angels with their wings extended blocking him. He couldn’t handle it and fainted. Some of the angels tried to help him up, but Irish stopped them.
She shook her head and said, "Leave him be," then added, "there are worse things." She knew he could be dead rather than unable to speak.
Scott turned as the professor did and got a full dose of all the angels. Scott's doubts went flying through space far from him. He knew he’d never find them again. He was overjoyed, and Irish stepped up beside him while putting her arm around his shoulder.
"You okay, Scott? We knew you’d come around. Glad to have you here."
Scott glowed with this explosive angel knowledge, and then he clearly heard Keel say something. It was as he was hearing it for the first time. At least, he was certainly understanding it for the first time. He always wanted to believe everyone made it. He really did. What Keel was saying was instantly teaching him something else. He had never felt its impact like now. He understood the truth, in spite of his educated opinions, and they didn’t matter anymore.
Keel quoted the scripture, "Jesus said, 'that He was the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.' Case closed!"
There was no escaping the Word, and Scott knew it clearly now. Since Jesus was the only way, it meant there were some who weren’t going to be saved. The all-inclusive Jesus didn’t exist to Scott anymore. Those with other ways, other opinions, other faiths, were excluding themselves. No Mohammad's, Buddhist’s, or any other manmade way cuts it—Jesus was exclusive. The Lord wanted him to know that. The Lord wanted Scott to understand that salvation was a journey, but a complete surrender to Him was necessary before the journey could begin. To Scott, the revelation
freed him from the shackles of liberalism and opened his heart to the power of the Spirit.
Keel continued, "We will do greater works than Jesus. This is what Jesus promised. We can ask anything in His name and receive it. The Word gives it to us." Scott felt the shackles of his miracle-less faith disappearing. He believed for the first time in his life about a Jesus, who really intended for miracles to happen—even miracles greater than those He had already done.
He continued, "These promises are ours. We need to use them now, no waiting. Jesus wants us to." Keel bowed slightly as he ended.
On cue, a group stood up and started reading the Nicene Creed. "We, believe in one God," they clapped together and stomped their feet loudly.
"The Father, the Almighty," accenting each pause with excited claps.
By the time they finished, they rushed the wooden stage carrying their boards with them. They started the Confession of Sin in the same manner.
Freckles led with the first words, "Most merciful God," clap, "we confess that we have sinned against you." They stomped their boards. The sound rattled against the mountain. They continued the same way until they were done.
Keel raised his hands towards the kids and said, "The peace of the Lord be always with you."
The kids shouted back, "And also with you!"
Everyone hugged each other saying, "Peace, the peace of the Lord, peace,” but then they added to each other, “I give my live for you.”
Keel started preparing for the communion, and he motioned for Scott to join him. Scott was elated and walked down with Irish, hand in hand. The kids saw Irish and started shouting and clapping louder, then The Daughters of the King ran around Scott.
Sister Bernard saw Scott and shook her head in disbelief. "A miracle, a real miracle. Truly the unexpected, just like the angel said. Where’s the professor?" She looked up; and at the back of the arena,
the professor was trying to stand but was clutching his throat, then fainted as the angels fluttered around him.
Keel gave a shout, and they responded with a practiced victorious response.
"The Lord be with you!" shouted Keel.
The kids shouted back, "And also with you!"
"Lift up your hearts!" shouted Keel again.
They thundered back, "We lift them to the Lord!"
"Let us give thanks to the Lord our God," led Keel finally.
They finished with a great explosion of joyous clapping and shouting. "It is right to give him thanks and praise!"
Keel continued, "It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth."
Keel sang the words. His voice was beautiful, no a frog voice this time. "Therefore we praise you, joining our voices with Angels and Archangels," the angels clapped this time, "and with all the company of heaven, who forever sing this hymn to proclaim the glory of your Name:"
Everyone sang, "Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory, Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest."
Keel continued to follow Enya’s prayer book and finally everyone shouted together, "Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again." They burst into the loudest applause yet so far.
Shortly after, a group of children, who had been practicing the Lord’s Prayer, heard their cue from Keel, "And now, as our Savior Christ has taught us, we are bold to say."
They led everyone in singing the Lord’s Prayer. It seemed to Nash and Enya that it must be the way heaven sounded. The harmony and sound were beyond their comprehension. The kids were reaching notes and pitch, which were well beyond their capability. Everyone looked up because they heard a chorus from heaven joining them.
Keel never lost a beat, "Alleluia. Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us."
The kids responded enthusiastically, "Therefore let us keep the feast!"
Keel was finishing up with, "The gifts of God for the people of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts by faith, with thanksgiving."
Keel gave the bread and wine to Hunter, Anne, and Carey saying, "The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ keep you in everlasting life. The Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ keep you in everlasting life."
They turned to help give communion to the kids; and immediately, the children applauded. They were ready to receive, and it was time. It was the same basket of bread and goblet of wine that Jesus left for them; they never ran out of either.
Keel handed the bread to Scott to administer to the Daughters of the King, Enya, Nash, and Cole. Scott said out-loud to those who could hear, "'The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all My holy mountain.'"
They all spent another hour singing praise songs and glorifying God. The mountain seemed to rejoice with them, and the rocks seemed to cry out in praise as their sound echoed through the trees.
The Dark Awareness
Dar-Raven had only a few thousand soldiers in place by Wednesday; but by Thursday, Monteagle looked like a full-fledged, army camp. Dar-Raven got the news about Father Johns and knew it may only be a matter of time before questions were asked about his disappearance. He felt that he could take care of the children quietly in the mean time, at least in the next ten days.
It didn’t take long for the campus to get the idea it was something different. Jeff confided to his gi
rlfriend, and it took off from there. It wasn’t long before the whole community was in an uproar.
The camp of soldiers around the Hardee’s off Exit 134 on I-24 became even more expansive. It was more like an army base than an interstate exit. There were so many troops that they pitched tents on the sides of the interstate and in the grassy medians. The Smoke House Lodge was taken over as well as other motels.
Sewanee finally got the picture and took a very safe position. In a town meeting, they announced the true motives of the soldiers, and they felt it was important not to let on they knew. That should keep the soldiers at a distance for the time being. If they ever knew that they were on to them, they’d go ahead and move right on into the town and take over the facilities, the dorms, and private homes.
Their community could be worse off than being strangled for supplies and isolated from the outside world. They could send out teams to get fresh game, and they still had supplies enough to make it at least a week.
They felt that if they could get through to another community like Winchester that they could alert the news media and bring attention to their plight. Unfortunately, very few volunteered to make the trip. The students finally got two groups together. Two in each and sent them to South Pittsburg and to Altamont. No one had any idea how far down the mountain and into the communities the blockades went. They figured that it’d take each group less than three days because they couldn’t use the paved roads. They would be in raw wilderness with only compass headings to guide them.
The Quidnunc Café would have to use everything it had in freezers along with everyone else’s cupboards to get by. They brought in food from everyone and pooled what they had, then stored it in the cafe. Starting on Friday, the community would need to come by the restaurant to get a ration of food.
The soldiers moved up the mountain to the gate on the Westside and set up a roadblock manned with no less than a hundred soldiers. The FBI moved small groups of its men infiltrating the prisoners. It was more of a safety measure than anything. With the FBI close by, they seemed to be restrained. Otherwise, the federal boys thought the prisoners were prone to go on a free for all. Right now, they couldn’t afford that kind of publicity.
Scott and Sam with the Daughters of the King arrived back at Sewanee in the middle of the food collection.
Scott asked them, "What’s going on?"
"The soldiers are really prisoners, and they're here to kill the kids. They’re planning on starving everyone in order to drive the kids off the mountain. They’re a bunch of killers," a very excited student was yelling at Scott while unpacking a pickup loaded with food for the restaurant. Other families were bringing kids’ wagons and cardboard boxes filled with groceries.
The student grabbed a sack of groceries and continued, "Father Johns is dead. They shot him when he tried to get back to Sewanee. They got us locked down tight. Hey, did you see the kids? Are they okay?"
Scott started to answer; but Pendwight, who was sitting in the Suburban staring blankly out the car window, jumped out and ran up to Scott. He wrote on a piece of paper torn off a paper bag. "We have to stop Sanctuary. They're not doing things according to our tradition. We have to stop them now."
Scott looked at him sadly. He wadded the paper up and threw it on the ground. "Sam, haven’t you learned your lesson? The next time those angels are going to do more than just shut your mouth. Listen, from what I see here, I don’t really think anyone cares or gives a hoot about how someone has church, do you?"
Sam squinted as he paid attention to the crowds rushing around him. It was obvious that Scott was right. There were more serious problems than the kids’ worship style. He turned and started walking towards his home a couple blocks away. His shoulders hung low on his frame, and he looked broken and defeated. As he walked away, he shrugged, grumbling to himself, the only sound that he could make.
The Daughters of the King came up and stood in a shocked stupor about the soldiers. It was a surprise to everyone except the Sister. One of the Sister’s closest friends came up and asked about the kids. "Are the kids going to have enough food to make it? We barely have enough of our own. What should we do?" Scott looked at the Sister as did the Daughters of the King, not knowing the answer.
Sister Bernard said, "The kids are fine. The angels bring them food. They should be the least of your worries." Scott and the rest breathed a sigh of relief.
Scott wished he was at Sanctuary himself. The kids taught him about liturgy, liturgy with the power of the Spirit. He went to change them, and God changed him instead. He thought, "What interesting times we live in." He remembered that was something like a Chinese curse so he quickly changed it, "How great is this end time."
Sister Bernard looked at Scott and said, "Talking to yourself again, Mr. Scott?"
She jabbed him lovingly in his side, and they walked hand in hand to the main chapel to have evening prayers. They both felt what they had experienced today was worth more than a lifetime of spiritual retreats and seminars. They knew the Lord was coming soon. They were glad that they shared with the kids and tasted of the heavenly gifts, so to speak, before that time came.
Scott looked at the evening sky, "The sky’s red tonight, Sister."
She answered, "Very." They weren’t talking about the sky.
Glorified Weak Things
As the kids slept, Sanctuary was clothed in prayerful silence. The crickets and a single Tennessee mockingbird continued to break the evening with their ongoing orchestra. At the arena, Keel knelt in prayer for the children and beside him were Hunter, Anne, and Carey. The service was a resounding success, and they truly felt God brought them to a place of victory.
A wingless angel appeared quietly in front of them waiting for them to notice. Finally, they all saw him. He was as tall as Aaron’s group but slender, and they could see through him. He wore a gold band around his head and a gold sash around his waist. Under his sash was stuck a large-capped urn. His hair was a beautiful blonde, and he radiated with the glory of God. Heavens’ glory still clung to him. He carried a small scroll, which he unraveled and started reading.
"I am of no-name, sent as a thought of God in the likeness of heaven. You must all go to the tent meeting in Winchester tomorrow. Take Freckles with you. Take care. There are many soldiers waiting. If they catch you, they will kill you or worse. Take this oil for healing." He handed Keel a quart-size urn and turned away from them and flew wingless into heaven.
"Wow," said Keel, "they always catch me off guard."
Anne spoke next, "Why does God want us to take Freckles? Where were that angel’s wings? Why do we have to go off the mountain? What do we do when we get there? What tent meeting? Where in Winchester?"
"Whoa Anne," said Hunter, "one question at a time. What if we told you that we don’t know? But, we have to do as the Lord asked."
Carey spoke what they all were thinking, "This is a suicide mission."
Keel rebuked her, "That didn’t sound like faith, Carey?"
She felt the spiritual slap and shamefully ducked her head saying, "I know, but you know how bad it is out there. Sister Bernard told Enya that they shot a priest. What do you think they’d do to us girls if they caught us?"
Keel wasn’t paying attention. He started walking towards Enya and Nash’s tent until he saw Irish sitting outside looking into the night sky. She was sitting under the telephone pole cross with her back against it, not moving. Tears were running down her cheeks; she wiped at them self-consciously as she saw Keel. When Keel approached, he noticed that her colors looked dimmed, and she looked sad and melancholy. She tried to hide it, but it was too obvious.
"You okay?" asked Keel as he neared.
She never got up but stayed seated. Her energy seemed to have waned too. "No, but I’ll be okay. Only feeling some pain, that’s all."
"Pain," Keel said, "I didn’t know angels felt pain."
"Not physical
pain, Keel. When you hurt inside, we feel it too. We have been created to take on the burdens of human sorrow to comfort you. We pick up the pain and absorb it into ourselves. It’s our way of helping."
"Who’s in that kind of pain? We’re all fine." Keel was totally mystified. He wondered if something was wrong with some of the kids.
"Are the kids okay, Irish?" He saw the other angels sitting throughout the campsites acting the same way. They looked lonely, and Keel could almost see dark clouds over their hearts. "What’s going on, Irish?"
"Keel, I’m sorry, but it’s something I can’t talk about. There is nothing wrong, now."
Irish put her head in her hands and cried openly, shamelessly. The rest of the angels began to wail to themselves, and it threatened the night quiet: it was mournful and foreboding. Keel thought someone had died, then he understood. Someone one was going to die. It hit him hard. Someone in their group was going to die. This was for them.
"Irish, who is it? Who’s going to die?" he looked at her sternly, and she shook her head while refusing to speak.
He stayed a couple more minutes until he realized she wasn’t going to say. Almost angry, feeling the hurt himself, he went off to find Freckles. There was no telling who or how many of them would die. He couldn’t believe God called them to this mountain, anointed them to do his work, then would allow them to be killed. This didn’t make sense.
He thought about Freckles. "Oh, no," he said out-loud, "it can’t be." With that thought, he stopped for a while and prayed for an answer. There was none. He felt there was something blocking his prayers, and he wasn’t getting through.
Irish came up behind him where he was kneeling and put her hand on his shoulder, but this time it didn’t comfort him, and she knew it. She knew he was speculating, but she still had something to ask him, a favor.
"Keel, I know this isn’t the time, but you’re going to run into some of my girls in Winchester."
"You know about Winchester already?" he looked surprised. "By the way what kind of angel was that?"
"It was a 'Malak,' a messenger. Angels come in many forms. Some are created by God from His thoughts for only one assignment. They are sent out to deliver a message. Didn’t he tell you he was from God’s thoughts?"
"Yeah, but I had no idea angels could be pure thought. I thought they were all like you and Aaron with wings, you know?" He turned and was sitting looking up at her. She was regaining some of her color and smiled at him, almost amused.
"Keel, we are all God’s creations. We are all born of his thoughts. There are Cherubs sometimes called Seraphim’s. There are Thrones, and even Powers like Aaron, who can turn into Thrones. There are those created for battle and guardian angels, then us. We call ourselves heir-servants, created for comfort and service, then there are those, lasting only long enough to deliver a message of warning, of deliverance, or a command from God. We come in all sizes and, as you see, all colors. We can be anything and anyone, although we are commanded not to morph, one of your new age words, unless absolutely necessary."
She continued, "We can't go contrary to the Word of God nor to the promises of the Word. We are not to be worshiped; but as you might expect, we are always to be respected, and sometimes, even feared. We are there to carry your souls to heaven just as you die and to comfort those left behind. We are near to warn you when trouble is about to come so you prepare. We are around to pull you out of harm’s way if you fail to listen. We are made up of millions of legions and are like the stars of heaven."
"With that grand speech, I need you to tell my girls, Lydia and Maggie, that it’s time to come back. I’d do it, but you can handle it. You’ll see them at the tent meeting." With her seminar on angels finished, she turned and walked away.
Keel sat motionless for a while. Maybe, he was being paranoid. Maybe, none of them would die, especially Freckles. Anything could be making them sad. Maybe it was from a kid going to have the flu. He seemed to make himself feel better for the moment and got up to wake Freckles. As they all discussed the trip, Freckles was so excited that he couldn’t stand it. He was going with the most important kids in the Sanctuary, and it was dangerous, just like in the movies. He thought of it as a great adventure.
He spoke to Anne, "I’m not riding on any handle bars this time."
"Not to worry. We still got the side-car bikes."
Keel spoke confidently, "We can take the bikes as far as the first curve before the gate. I understand from Sister Bernard’s short wave message that’s where the first blockade is. They got the whole mountain covered to the bottom, then a little piece towards Cowan. After that, it’s pretty free going. We can cut across the cornfields, but we’ll have to climb above the gate, higher up on the mountain, and make our way straight down to the bottom. Sometimes going down is harder than going up. We need to wear heavy jeans and tie pieces of cut-up blankets on our knees and hands to protect them. We’ll carry extra blankets strips in my backpack."
Hunter added, "I’m nervous about you girls. I’d die if anything ever happened to either of you. Are you both okay with this? Don’t take it wrong. I just care, that’s all."
Carey answered respectfully, "Thanks Hunter, but we’re in this together. This is God’s doing. When we chose to follow Jesus, we meant it. We’re just proving it now; that’s all."
"I know," said Anne, "if we get in trouble, you guys divert, and we’ll run like banshees." She giggled nervously and moved up close to Hunter while purposely brushing her arm against his. "But you’ll have to make sure whoever has the best chance of getting away has the oil, guy or gal. It came from God. It seems important to Him for us to get it there."
"Agreed, Anne, but Hunter has it wrapped up in a small blanket. If we dropped it off a cliff, it wouldn’t break. It’s tied so it can be dragged along behind us or passed like a football." Keel and Hunter checked the gear, and they all headed out to the bikes.
Enya came running over to them at a dead sprint. She grabbed Freckles and hugged him, "If you let anything happen to my son, I’ll beat you all with a stick."
Freckles beamed from ear to ear, "Thanks, Mom."
He acted very adult and straightened himself up, then walked between the guys towards the bikes. He was happier since Enya came to see him off. Enya ran back to her tent to cry, but Nash left her alone and went to check on the lunch program.
Irish was watching the kids leave, then she yelled, "Don’t forget to bring my girls back!"
They waved, doing an okay with their fingers and disappeared into the woods. Next, everyone heard the sound of the bikes as they revved up and moved out onto the main road. It didn’t take them long before they passed University Avenue on their right and headed down the mountain towards the gate.
Holy Distractions
The small town of Altamont sent a short-wave message to Sanctuary. "Are the kids interested in some fiddling music; and maybe, learning to line dance? We have a small group who can get through the Exit 134 blockade by offering to perform for the soldiers. Can be there Thursday night."
Nash’s response was instant, "Wonderful! I’ll tell the kids to get ready. The kids got so excited that they acted like it was like Christmas. It was quite a treat to take their minds off their leaders being gone.
When Irish’s girls found out about it, they had all sorts of questions. Irish asked first, "What’s line dancing?"
Nash tried to explain, but he finally said, "It’s square dancing but in a line. Country music with fiddles. You know, somewhat like Kentucky Bluegrass, country."
Irish lit up, "You mean Celtic fiddling Americana style? There isn’t much difference. Now, that’s what I call music! We have a lot of music in heaven, but my favorite is the fiddling."
It was near three in the afternoon when the musicians showed up. They heard there were lots of kids, but they were still shocked to see so many. They also heard there were angels, but they chalked it up to fantasy. They pulled up in a ref
urbished school bus with two fiddlers, two callers for the dances, several harmonica players with two base fiddlers, including two banjo players, and a set of drums.
As they got off the bus, Enya and Nash met them, then shook their hands and thanked them for coming. Nash pointed to the long houses. "We cleared a long house out, but we have so many kids that we changed our minds. Thought it might be better outside. So, we cleared our eating area and put down plywood for an extra 30 yards back. Looks more like a plywood runway than a dance floor."
The performers set up to play. It was the callers’ job to teach the kids how to dance. "Bob Chancey is my name, kids, and my calling partner is Steve Harper. I want to you to give my band a big applause."
The kids caught Bob off guard. Clapping and shouting was their most proficient habit. Bob got the kids to line up, and they all watched as they practiced some quiet steps together. The plywood creaked and snapped under their weight. They finally got 2000 kids in lines. Bob was still astounded at how many kids were here.
"How are we going to play loud enough for all these kids when they start moving to more robust tunes?"
Steve shook his head, "You got me. Let’s give it a try. The kids were lined up a hundred in a line and went back over halfway down the plywood. They tried the first time and failed miserably; everyone was stumbling over each other.
Nash said to Enya, "This isn’t working out too well, is it?"
Irish and her girls were staying out of sight for the time being, but Irish snuck around and discreetly whispered something to Enya, "Have the kids pray about it."
Enya laughed, "Pray about dancing. Isn’t it a waste of good prayers?"
Irish shook her finger at Enya, "Do it, Enya. You have to trust me." Irish slipped back out of sight.
Enya went up to Bob and said, "I need to make an announcement that might help."
"Lady," said Bob, "if it doesn’t help, we’ll just play for you. It looks hopeless now."
"Okay, kids. How many want to dance tonight?" The kids shouted and waved in a "yes" response. "Whom do we all love most in life?" She put her hands into the air.
They all shouted enthusiastically "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!"
"Then, let’s dance for Jesus. I want every kid to kneel down where you are and pray that God will anoint our dancing so we can glorify God. Then, I want us to get up and let the band play for our dancing. Okay?" Enya was crossing her fingers. She had no idea what she was doing. Irish had better be right.
They all shouted their agreement and knelt in prayer. Only one of the musicians was a Christian, and even he didn’t expect to be in a middle of a prayer meeting. It made them all very uncomfortable, especially when the kids started singing "praaaissee" together. It gave them chill bumps, and it was really getting under their skin. Suddenly, they lost a banjo and base player, who got up and went to the bus—not
able to stand it anymore. They didn’t come to have some religious fanatics praying like this.
"Bob, we really are short now. These kids will be lucky to hear anything once they start stomping."
"Steve, I don’t know. Let’s just try it and see what we can do. We’ve come a long way to do this. We might as well give it a try," replied Bob.
The music started playing and the mood with the kids was exceptionally high. The prayers seemed to jell them together, and Bob saw 1000 percent improvement. As Steve called out the dance, they saw the kids fall in place. It spread like a wave over the group, and it wasn’t long before another 1500 kids joined them. They still weren’t stumbling over each other, and they moved easily to the music, but the music was still weak as the kids moved over the plywood, spinning and stepping together perfectly. After 15 minutes, Bob thought they were better than professionals, but they just couldn’t play loud enough.
After a break in the dancing, Bob remarked, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this in my life. These kids could go on tour like this. Did prayer do all this? Hey, Enya, why do they call this place Sanctuary?"
Enya noticed the excitement in Bob and Steve’s faces along with their band’s disappointment that they couldn’t play any louder. A group from the band went to get the others who left, but they knew it wasn’t enough. The kids started putting down more plywood, even using plywood from the eating tables, and it wasn’t long before they laid down another 50 yards.
Bob and Steve laughed loudly, "Someone said you had angels; but from what I see, it must be those angel five-year-olds, right?" Their band was cracking up at the mention of angels, and even the Christian guitar player chuckled.
Enya let it go, waved them off, and returned to the girl’s long house and found Irish. "These guys are real skeptics. They do have a problem about the volume. I don’t blame them. Once the kids started the dancing, I could barely hear them."
Irish said, "I’ll fix it. Get the kids dancing again."
Enya told the band to start anyway. They’d make do. Again, the kids seemed to match their steps perfectly, but now almost all of the kids were dancing. The music was still barely audible. As the kids continued to dance, they lifted one hand into air, and the presence of God became noticeable. The kids were truly dancing in praise to God,
and this wasn’t country music to them; this was church again. A moment later, a guy in overalls appeared around the corner of one
of the long houses carrying a base and sat down with the band. The band looked at him, and Bob shrugged. They picked up a lively tune, then five more fiddlers appeared from either side of the band and were carrying their own chairs, then sat down with the rest. The sound was beginning to pick up. One by one other musicians carrying banjos, guitars, a flute, and zither appeared until the number of new players out numbered the band ten to one.
The music was starting to reach a good crescendo. As the kids danced, their worship sped up. Bob had never heard the music played quite this fast, but the new guys were leading the way. They were pulling the rest along with them at an exhausting pace. The callers admitted that the sound was perfect and reached the sky. The pace kept getting faster and faster, but the kids never lost pace and moved together with ease. It was as if they had been doing it for years. Five thousand kids and the enlarged band shook the mountain. Bob looked over at his guys and knew that they had never played this well or fast in their lives. One of Bob’s player’s eyes was as big as saucers; and when
he stopped playing his fiddle, it kept playing by itself.
The kids were in complete worship, and the anointing moved from their mouths as Irish and her girls came out front to join them. This was heaven to Irish; to the angels, it was their way. The music was different, but the power of God was here just the same. Bob and Steve stopped calling, but the kids kept dancing anyway. Sweat was pouring from the band players as they stayed at the feverish pace. They continued to be compelled and drawn on into the music by the visitors. Irish and the other angels finally spread their wings and pointed them skyward while moving with the kids in a Holy Ghost dance of glory.
Bob and Steve almost fell into their own band at the sight, and one player dropped his base, but like the fiddler, the strings kept playing. Most of the band members ran off to the bus, but Bob and Steve were so stunned that they hung to the back almost hiding. Irish stopped dancing and went to where Bob and Steve cowered. They moved back against the long-house wall the closer Irish came. She took her wings and caressed Bob and Steve’s face lightly.
"Didn’t anyone ever tell you this is God’s Mountain, boys?" She was riding them for their previous laughter.
She turned her back, and they both started running for the bus. Everyone else, except the Christian band member was left. He stayed long enough to hear the bus starting, then realized that he was being left
behind. He barely made it to the bus in time, but the angels played on for another hour.
God's Little Martyr
Keel’s group ditched their ri
des in the woods and climbed carefully up the side of the steep mountain rock above the gate. At first, they stumbled and fell while making so much noise that they sounded like a herd of elephants.
Keel stopped everyone, "We’re too loud. We need to pray to be quieter. We can’t fool anyone this way."
They all agreed and while they lay on their stomachs looking at the blockade some 100 feet below them, they prayed silently together. They all felt a cushion around them; and as they stepped down, they didn’t even hear leaves crushing or twigs breaking, just a slight swish. Keel shook his head in disbelief. God gave them Holy Ghost silence; and even when they pushed sticks and brush out of the way, they seemed to snap back noiselessly.
Hunter kept an eye on Anne, helping her when he could. She squeezed his hand as he helped her along and sometimes steadied her. He enjoyed helping her over the difficult spots. Keel and Carey noticed the sparks and smiled. It made them feel good how God drew people together like Hunter and Anne. It gave them additional hope for the future.
They saw what looked like a group of thugs guarding the road. There were mounds of beer cans and bottles all around the Sewanee rock gate. Most of them had discarded their army shirts or had their t-shirts rolled up above their shoulders exposing flamboyant tattoos. They strutted around like a bunch of drunk roosters, yelling and cussing at each other. Keel knew they were dangerous and that these men were picked by Dar-Raven, just his kind of men.
They moved slowly down the mountain, now. It took them two hours to get to the bottom. They were only moving about eight- to- ten- feet per minute. At two in the afternoon, they had made it to the bottom, then they saw the bad news. The soldiers had bush hogged a large area of the cornfield for parking their jeeps and equipment. Now, they had to cross a flat open space before getting to the protection of the corn rows.
Keel said to himself, "This is really bad."
The distance was an easy 75 feet. There were very few soldiers on this side of the road, but it was still wide open. Only a parked jeep stood halfway and sat in the narrower corner of the cleared field.
Keel and the rest heard it at the same time, "Take the jeep."
"Did you all hear that?" Keel whispered.
Anne whispered back, "I wish I hadn’t."
Keel asked, "Hunter, can you get to the jeep and drive it through the cornfield? If we got into it fast enough, they won’t know it wasn’t one of their own going for a joy ride. They look too drunk and distracted anyway. There’s only the one guy with his back turned to us. What do you think?"
Hunter said, "That one guy has an M-16. Look, there are two others coming down the mountain. They look different than the others. One is wearing a suit coat, and the other, slacks and a leather vest. Look, when he turned, I saw a gun holster strapped to his back belt. Isn’t that how some of the fed boys wear their guns?"
Anne asked, "Are they the good guys?"
Keel responded curtly, "There aren’t any good guys anymore. If they’re here, it’s because Dar-Raven wants them here."
Keel took his backpack off and ran along the woods until he was at a right angle to the back of the jeep. "Keys are in it," he said to Hunter, who followed shortly. They both saw the rabbit’s foot attached to keys hanging from the visor. They just looked at each other.
"Let’s push it," suggested Hunter.
"Push it where?" asked Keel
"Let’s push it to the cornfield. At least, a little closer before we start the engine. How about starting it when we get in the field?"
The confirming thought came, "Pushing it is fine."
Hunter whispered, "I wish, sometimes that I didn’t hear that voice so much. Sorry, Lord. I’m just scared."
Keel responded too, "I think we all are."
The rest were still in the woods and made it down to Hunter and Keel. Anne asked, "What’s the plan, Stan?"
"We’re going to push it," said Hunter and Keel together.
"All the way to Winchester?" chuckled Carey. "Sorry guys, when I get nervous, I get silly, don’t you know?"
"Anne, you and Carey secure the steering wheel and help get it pointed to the nearest part of the cornfield while the rest of us will push. It’s only a jeep. It shouldn’t be too hard. Everyone stay low and move slow. Don’t get in a hurry. No sound, just push it slowly to the field."
"Okay," they all whispered.
Anne led the way; and as she got to the jeep, she noticed it was still in gear. She immediately jumped into the jeep and shifted it into neutral. As she got out, she slammed the door loudly behind her saying, "Oh, boo!"
She rolled out onto the dirt and tried to stay out of sight. Everyone froze, not making a sound. Carey crawled underneath the jeep to watch the guards and tried to see if Anne was spotted, but she wasn't.
An FBI agent turned around, tossed his cigarette towards the open field, and looked intently towards the jeep as if sensing something. He lit another cigarette and continued talking with his partner. The prisoner, Lucky, was so high on pot that he wasn’t even on this world. He swayed while standing beside them as the two agents made bets on when he would pass out. He heard them, but nothing was making sense anyway. He smiled and got a craving for chocolate cookies.
All three wandered down closer to the uncut field but were still on the road within direct sight of the jeep. Anne finally tied a blanket piece to the steering wheel, then both Anne and Carey steered it while hiding on the ground. The rest pushed quietly from the protected side. Hunter was praying first for Anne, then for the rest. Anne was praying first for Hunter, then for the rest. The dry straw seemed to
bend, not crack, another miracle. They pushed it for another 20 feet when the same FBI agent turned around again. They stopped the jeep and waited for him to look away. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong. It seemed to him that something was out of place, but he couldn’t figure out what. He looked disgustingly at Lucky still puffing on his joint.
"That’s it, getting some secondary pot smoke. Making them goofy,'" the agent thought.
He and his partner moved to the other side of the road. Their point of vision still wasn’t blocked, just farther away. They were directly in line with the edge of the uncut field. The kids continued to push until they were now only ten feet from the field. They were turning the steering wheel hard as it sloped down and picked up speed. Not what they wanted; but before they slowed down, they were in the field. The corn tops waved carelessly back and forth above them. They all sat down and shook all over, then got in the jeep.
They were counting ten, nine, eight, when Keel stopped counting. "Where’s my backpack? It has the oil hooked to it."
There was an instant when they all wanted to leave it, but they knew they couldn’t. Freckles jumped out of the jeep and scrambled across the field so fast that he looked like a ground squirrel. He got to the backpack, unhooked the oil; and for some reason, he decided to throw it. There was a different look in his eyes. He knew that he had to
throw it and tossed it like a quarterback. It landed 20 feet from the corn and started rolling down towards the field, bouncing and flipping end-over-end. He managed to get it within a yard of the high-topped corn. Keel got to it, quickly pulled it to himself, and motioned Freckles to come on.
Freckles knew something they didn’t. He was listening. He saw Freckles nod his head "yes" as if he was answering someone. He mouthed slowly to them, and they all knew what he was saying, "I love you guys."
He dashed across the field, heading away from them towards another part of the field. It was a terrible moment, then three shots were fired. The prisoner spotted Freckles and alerted the FBI agents, who had a clear view of someone running towards the field, and they both fired at the same time with both hands on their pistols. The prisoner fired last before Freckles hit the ground. Everyone hit him, leaving him shot in the neck, chest, and upper leg. He didn’t have but a second to live after hitting the ground. The kids grabbed their heads in their fists, and the girls doubled
over in pain. They did everything they could to keep from bawling hysterically out-loud. Keel realized that Freckles had deliberately run that direction to throw them off. Keel wondered how he would ever explain this to Enya. Now, he knew why Irish and her angels were grieving. He was right the first time.
The guards were so interested in Freckles that they didn’t even miss the jeep. Lucky pulled the backpack off him and dumped out the blanket parts and a Bible. He jumped up and sat on Freckles as if he was an animal kill.
Agent Charlie exclaimed, "It’s only a ten-year-old kid! We killed a ten-year-old kid! If my wife ever finds out about this, I’ll never see my kid again! I have a ten-year-old boy of my own. We could have
chased him down. We didn’t need to kill him." He was extremely shaken, then pushed Lucky off Freckles and picked up him up cradling him in his arms.
Lucky shouted, "I’m going to get a reward for this! This is one of the kids from Sanctuary! The Bible proves it!"
Agent Conrad was almost distant. He seemed to be avoiding looking at Freckles, and he hated the prisoner for being so common, but he wasn’t touched the same way as Charlie, although he had young children of his own. He mumbled to himself, "He was in the
wrong place at the wrong time." Then, he walked up the road to smoke another cigarette while keeping as far away from Charlie and Freckles as possible.
Charlie was hysterical. He’d never asked for this job. It was pushed on him. He loved his own son so much that he felt a connection going deep into his heart; he was wounded and grieved.
The kids were so upset that they couldn’t move. It was the best move they could have made. They stayed put for another hour just holding each other and hiding their faces in each other’s arms, not wanting to go on or back. Everyone’s heart ached like a piece of them had been torn away. There was also a perfect sense that if they started the jeep when they wanted to that they would have been caught. Freckles knew that too. He was the perfect sacrifice, the perfect little martyr for them, but it didn't stop their pain.
Other FBI agents came down the mountain to investigate the shots. They shook their heads in disappointment. Keel heard, "Go on into Nashville and fill out your reports. Send this prisoner over to the Exit 134 blockade. Get him away from here. There may be some prisoners who have kids too, never can tell. Don’t tell them a thing about happened over here. I don’t care what orders we have. I wanted to help them capture the kids and move them, not kill them."
They all left soon after. The kids climbed slowly into the jeep, started it, drove through the cornfield, and exited near a farmer’s house. The farmer was nearby and looking to see what happened after hearing the shots. He saw the jeep pushing its way through the field and coming out 50 feet from him. He ran towards them, recognized them, and put it together rather quickly.
"Hey, you guys, stop! Don’t drive this jeep into town!" He pointed to his old truck, a classic 1990 Ford with an extended cab. "Take it. What did they do, kill one of you guys?"
The girls couldn’t help themselves. They ran to him as they cried into his overalls, "Yes, they killed Freckles. He was only ten years old," they sobbed
"Hey, hey, girls, it’s okay. You’re from Sanctuary, aren’t you?" They nodded while continuing to bury their faces against him as they wept.
"I’m hiding my little girl from these prisoners. If they ever see her, she’d be raped and killed. She’s 13 now. Are you going to be heading back to Sanctuary?"
"Yes, tonight or early morning," said Keel while looking over the big Ford.
"Come back, and I’ll get you up the mountain, at least to the gate. You’ll have to make it on foot the rest of the way. You got to take little Missy with you, okay?"
"You got a deal," said Hunter. "Do you know where the tent meeting is in Winchester?"
"Sure, it’s on this side of town in front of the Southern Tennessee Medical Center. They say the preacher is pretty good. Hey, I saw the angel battle when you guys went up to the cross. What a show! Hey, you’re the kid who nailed that angel. I saw you through my binoculars."
They stayed with the farmer for a while and waited for things to calm down even more. They got started at 5:30 p.m. and moved easily through town.