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STORM WARNING
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Chapter XXIX
Some had been members of the elite “Night Stalkers”. Some were trained in explosives. Some were mechanics. They were all highly trained, physically and mentally, to kill and to work as a team. They would take their stand and form their own clan. They were destined to become cave men.
They had reached the border of what was Kentucky and found the old roadside rest area. The ramp was passable and the building still stood. The Military convoy, with its cargo of supplies and civilians approached at a slow pace. A man steps outside the building with an assault rifle. More barrels poke through the barricaded entrance. No glass remained in the original glassed wall entrance. It was now trees stacked helter skelter across the front of the building. Trees that had been blown over, were chopped up and dragged to the entrance, stacked in crude fashion so there was only one way in through a hallway running parallel to the front of the building.
The “Chaplain” is the head of the wandering tribe. He climbs out of the lead vehicle holding up his right hand, as if to say, "Hello. Peace, I'm a man of my word."
Words are exchanged instead of bullets. An understanding takes place. Two men of honor have recognized each other, realizing their shared fate. The people and supplies are unloaded, trucks parked in the back, and greetings and introductions made. They will stay for a day sharing food and shelter with the eight well armed men, five women and four children who had commandeered the former public facility.
It was almost festive. Meeting new friends, sharing familiar backgrounds and stories. Happy to be alive and inside. Out of the trucks and sheltered from the brewing storm.
The children played games, they played school, they made up families in different happier circumstances. What a priceless commodity in times of calamity. The Imagination.