The Last Stand (Book 3) (The Repentant Demon Trilogy) Read online

  “You were loved, Sunshine… I mean Abby,” Uma said enthusiastically, “We loved you so much, but we were stupid. Our whole lives were about feeling good. That was our religion. Your father and I smoked a lot of pot, and we started selling it just to pay for our own supply. Then we dabbled in selling harder stuff, though we never used it. I had seen what it did to people, and we were both afraid to touch anything but marijuana. That's how we were busted and went to jail. I was out of it for quite a while; devastated at losing both you and your father. Wolf-song was killed in a prison fight after about six months into his sentence. Then a few years later, when they came to me with papers to give up my parental rights, I thought it was best for you. I felt like I'd been a terrible parent and that anyone would be better than me. Besides, I had eight years yet to serve. What choice did I have with no relatives to keep you for me?”

  “You did do the right thing,” said Abigail, who had completely confiscated Cal's bowl. Brady got him another. “The two years in four different foster homes was horrible. But then I was adopted by a wonderful family. The Fitzgerald’s gave me love, security, and a faith that has made all the difference in my life. I had six brothers and sisters. We all had wonderful times together until everyone except my mother and I were killed in a tragic highway accident. She was left paralyzed in a wheelchair and died in 2008. I truly loved that amazing woman.”

  “It eases my pain a lot to know that,” said Uma, sitting beside her. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Abigail reached out for her, and Uma fell into an embrace with her long lost daughter. Then Abigail began to cry in huge sobs, more like an eight-year-old child being taken from her mother's arms than a grown woman. They hugged hard, and Uma rocked her until she had cried herself out. When she stopped her face seemed peaceful, and she smiled at the fact that she had eaten an entire bowl of Uma's chicken n' dumplin's.

  Abigail helped with the dishes, and the men went to the living room talking about hunting and fishing. Uma, who did not have a written recipe, promised to show Abigail how to make a meal just like the one they had eaten. By the time Abigail and Uma joined them, Cal was telling what he knew of the terrorist plot.

  “Well we're sitting ducks!” exclaimed Brady. “This is a military target sure to be attacked in an all-out war. What are they doing setting up a residential area inside an armed base?”

  “They seem to be very confident about their ability to protect us,” said Cal, “I saw a lot of military equipment inside the mountain. Tanks, guns, fighter jets, even a Patriot missile launcher. There are several floors of living quarters in there, too. I saw huge generators that supply air, water, and power. Agent Foley said they could take us all inside if there was any danger of radioactive fallout. He said we could live inside there for years.”

  “This is certainly not like any other war we've ever fought before,” mused Brady. “But the people around here are not going to come begging the government for help. They're going to hunker down in their own homes. Most of them routinely stock up and prepare for unexpected emergencies, especially heading into winter. Out here you get snowed in or some volcano threatens to erupt often enough to provide plenty of opportunities to learn survival skills. The kids around here are raised like that. Most of the residents are descended from sturdy mountain people. They'll stand their ground against any rag-heads that might dare to step on their land. I can't see them running inside some mountain to hide.”

  “That might not be a good thing,” said Cal. “not if there's a danger from radiation. Their guns and survival skills aren't going to protect them from cancer.”

  “You might be right about that,” said Brady, thoughtfully. “So you think we can take on another six thousand visitors, Uma?”

  “I'm feeling kind of glad they'll be at the government's door instead of ours,” she said. “At least these two cabins were built with nice basements. Those cracker-box buildings they're putting up by the lake don't look safe to me. Let those people go inside the mountain. I'll stay here.”

  “Actually, they are fairly safe,” said Cal. “True, they don't have basements, but they're per-fabricated out of cement board and heavy lumber. From the outside, they appear to be a typical ranch-style house, but inside they have protective glass windows like those made for automobile windshields and they seal up tight. They don't have air filtration systems, but at least when they get back into their homes from the mountain facility they'll know they will be safe from radiation.”

  “What if we're hit by bombs?” Brady asked next.

  “The Patriot missiles should be able to shoot down anything coming by air,” explained Cal, “and they're located high up in the mountain from a vantage point where they can fire from any direction.”

  “There are two other set-ups like this one, in Colorado and Montana. The president, his cabinet, and members of Congress have a similar underground fortification in the east. But if that part of the country is completely devastated, who knows when they'll be able to come out, or where they'll go after that. Can you envision a country governed by people you may never again see in person? It's like science fiction. Our Supreme Master whom we only know from seeing his face on a video screen.”

  “But what really concerns me,” Cal continued, “is all the people out there, the every day working people in Missouri and Alabama and Connecticut. All of those people who will have nowhere to run. They're all going to die. If the thirty targeted nuclear plants, excluding the three we will be able to stop, are successfully attacked, thirty hydrogen bombs will go off. These have been strategically chosen in order to destroy our infrastructure, causing maximum fatalities and untold horror. The experts estimate a loss of over three million lives and economic losses of over three trillion dollars. If 9-11 was bad, this is a thousand times worse. While we're busy recovering from theses attacks, they're going to strike Israel, then easily take over all of Europe with hardly a shot being fired. Europe is already sixty per cent Muslim. I wasn't supposed to talk about any of this, but I'm no Rick Foley.”

  “So how did you end up in Wyoming?” asked Abigail, changing the subject as she noticed the stunned silence in the room. “And how did you meet Brady McFarland?” she said, addressing Uma.

  “I worked in his restaurant after I got out of prison,” Uma answered, not wanting to hear any more about the coming war. “He was the only one who would give me a job. Said he liked my cooking… that's why he married me. I'm convinced he did it to get himself a free cook for the restaurant. So we had a little place on Cherokee Street called Brady's. Then, five years ago Brady inherited this place from his uncle. It was a dream come true for both of us. Of course, it wasn’t a vacation resort back then. We borrowed hundreds of thousands to make it what it is now.

  “He had always loved rural life,” she continued. “When I met him, he had just recently arrived in Saint Louis to pursue his dream of owning his own restaurant, but he had never quite completely adapted to city life. Brady had been raised on a farm in Barnett, Missouri. They grew corn on six hundred acres amidst the Mennonite communities. He still to this day doesn’t care to eat corn, no matter how I fix it. When his dad died and left the farm to him he sold it to invest in Brady's. But even though the business was a success, the neighborhood started going bad, and he regretted leaving behind his quiet rural life.”

  “It was when the gangs started moving in,” added Brady. “The quaint little area where we lived above the restaurant just changed almost overnight. Everything I had was tied up in the restaurant, so I really felt stuck there until Uncle Lenny died. I had only met him once, so I was shocked that he left his estate to me. This place was one of the few parcels of land out here that was privately owned. We were so happy renting out the cabin to nice families on vacation. Met a lot of nice people. It was like a miracle coming here.”

  “I believe in miracles,” said Abigail. “Cal thinks it was God that brought us all together here. I agree with him.”

  “Maybe you're both right,” sai
d Brady, “If it’s God working His will through all of this, then I feel like maybe somehow we will be blessed with his protection. We're definitely all in the middle of something pretty awesome. Something major is happening here.”

  Angel went to the door and whimpered that she had to go potty. That was about the time the visitors decided they needed to go home. They had called it home for the first time, and Abigail wondered how it would be if they stayed there forever.

  The angel Ashriel had called them a new Adam and Eve. And Cal, the former demon Calumnius, had chosen to fight for humanity over an option of becoming an angel—his heartfelt dream. Yet, he hadn't even hesitated to consider the thing he'd wanted so badly for eons of time. He loved Abigail that much, as well as the humans he had once hated. And he now loved God, too, with his whole heart—his beating human heart. As many stories that had been written about kingdoms cast aside for love, this was a story truly greater than any of those.

  * * *

  Chapter 4. Christmas Plans

  Abigail wanted to do nothing but lay in bed. This was one of the common symptoms at the early stages of pregnancy. She wiped the sleep from her eyes while running to see who was knocking at the door. Sandra, Jodie, and believe it or not, Ruthie, looking like a watermelon was bulging under her coat, had all ridden over on their bicycles. The group had not brought any of their vehicles from Saint Louis, opting to drag cargo trailers behind their RV's rather than tow a vehicle. But there were bicycles for all family members.

  “I feel so guilty,” said Abigail, opening the door, still looking rumpled from her nap. “I am wasting my life away in bed. Come in, please, and help wake me up. Even coffee doesn't help, of course that’s partly because I can't keep it down.”

  “This will pass,” assured Ruthie, “just wait until you get to the mood swings, the leg cramps, the cravings. But it's all worth it and forgotten once you have that baby in your arms.”

  “You are just what I need right now, Ruthie,” she said sincerely.

  “We came to talk about Christmas,” said Sandra Edwards, Mike's wife, “and everything else we need to prepare for. Babies, world-wide nuclear war… typical girl talk.”

  “Christmas is something I thought I'd just skip this year,” said Abigail, “except for the religious part. I planned to spend my Christmas Eve praying. Now that kids are in the picture, I realize we need to do what we can to preserve normalcy for their sakes.”

  “We've pretty much decided to not give gifts except for the kids,” said Jodie Decker, “but then we realized this is your first Christmas with your new husband. That's too special to ignore. So we thought about having a party.”

  “Maybe you're right,” said Abigail, “I do want to show him how much I love him. He deserves something really special.”

  “We were thinking,” said Ruthie, “that the kids would open their gifts on Christmas morning under their own trees decorated with ornaments they made themselves. But it would be nice, under the circumstances, for all of us to get together for Christmas Eve, unless you would rather be alone with Cal. That would be understandable, so just tell us what you want.”

  “I like the idea,” she answered thoughtfully, “a little party. And it would be really nice to all be together. We should invite the McFarlands, too. You won't believe my news about them. They’re family.”

  Abigail explained that Uma was her estranged birth mother, and that they had had a wonderful reunion. The women listened to the whole story, sharing looks of understanding. All were women of faith and recognized the hand of God in the whole series of events. Then the conversation eventually led to Christmas cookie recipes and shared family traditions.

  “Well we are relieved you are on board for a get-together,” said Jodie, “because our RV's are way too small for such a gathering—ten adults and four children. By then it may be five. We were hoping to have the party here.”

  “Of course,” agreed Abigail immediately, “I'd love that. It's not that roomy here either, but we could manage.”

  “You don't feel a little invaded?” asked Sandra, “I mean, all of us inviting ourselves over to your house. That's a lot to deal with considering your condition. We'll do all the work though, promise.”

  “My condition has just gotten a lot better,” Abigail said smiling, “but what might even be better would be to have it up at the McFarlands. I'll bet they'd love it. When we invite them to join us, I'll bet they offer their living room. It was made for entertaining large groups, and they are pros at that sort of thing.”

  “I'm hoping the baby comes ahead of time,” explained Ruthie, “but if she decides to be born on Christmas Eve, I might not be able to be there, and Nathan, too, of course. He's my birthing coach. But Stephen and Mickey would be able to join the party.”

  “What are you going to do about the hospital?” asked Abigail. “I'm sure you had arrangements already made. Are you going to go to Pinedale? Surely not with what we know of what is to happen on Christmas day. Will you use the medical facilities here?”

  “Oh, none of the above,” answered Ruthie, smiling, “I've had all my children at home. Of course my midwife was with me, and Sandra also, both times. I think we can manage though, considering I’ve done it a few times now.”

  “She is amazing, Abby,” said Sandra, “Ruthie gives birth in her bathtub filled with warm water. The RV doesn't have a tub, only a shower, so we brought a kiddie pool along. I hope it doesn't flood all over the whole floor.”

  “My biggest concern is having enough hot water in the trailer,” she said with attempted humor. “The tank only holds enough for one decent shower at a time, and we'll be carrying it by bucketfuls to the bedroom. So Rayetta better hurry up or that water isn't going to feel so nice and comfortable when she hits it.”

  “So Nathan might be busy boiling water just like in the old movies,” laughed Sandra, “The doctor would always tell them to boil water, and I somehow suspected it was just to keep people busy and out of his hair.”

  “You know, I really don't want to miss the party,” said Ruthie, “and if my body is telling me right, she's not going to wait another nine days. It's going to be much sooner.”

  “If you say so, I believe you,” said Abigail. “Just remember, there are medical professionals available as close as that mountain behind us. Cal told me there's a fully equipped hospital inside. I mean, just in case. And by the way, I have a ton of diapers in my car if you need them.”

  “Thanks, but I use cloth diapers,” said Ruthie, “and we have everything ready for her. Maybe not a lot of pink, after two boys, but she'll be clothed.”

  “Cloth diapers?” asked Abigail, “I didn't know they still made them. That is probably much better for the environment. Even though they are lot more work, I assume.”

  “Oh, they're out there, with a little searching,” said Ruthie. “Have you ever wondered about what paper underwear must feel like? I prefer soft cotton next to my baby's bottom.”

  The preparations inside the cabin continued all day. They assigned food dishes among them, and discussed making decorations from greenery and pine cones, berries and various findings from their natural surroundings.

  Cal came bursting through the door and was happy to find a crowd of chattering, bustling women in his living room. They had heated up some canned tomato soup and had fixed grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. He picked up the remnant of an untouched triangular wedge from a plate that had been lying there all alone on the kitchen counter.

  “Don't eat that, Cal,” warned Abigail, “it's been sitting there for hours. I was about to start supper.”

  He chomped into it anyway. It had been a long day, and he felt like he was starving, a condition that continued to plague him.

  “Just a snack,” he said, “Anything I can do to help? You sure seem busy.”

  They told him about the party plans. He said that now he understood what the rest of the group was doing on the hillside lugging trees on bicycles. The kids were having a great time
playing in the snow, and he had been concerned about the predators of which he had heard numerous warnings from various sources, until he saw rifles slung across both Nathan’s and Jerry's backs. He mentioned this to the women, and also told them they had some beautiful trees waiting at home.

  “Mike always has a gun on him.” assured Sandra, “And so does Nathan, nowadays. So we felt safe letting the kids go with the men into the wilds of Wyoming. They're getting one for you, too.” she told Cal and Abby. “And the kids are collecting things to use for decorations. We probably should have brought some from home, but we just didn't have any room left. We had the feeling that whatever we left behind we'd probably never see again.”

  A knock on the door announced the arrival of Mike with the kids. It wasn't easy dragging trees on bicycles. Nathan and Jerry had taken theirs to the compound, and they had put the Callahan tree on their porch.

  “I think we found some real beauties,” he called, shaking the snow off of him out on the porch.

  “Look what I found,” cried little Claudia, running in all excited, “a bunch of red feathers. See how pretty they are?”