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My mount fed, watered, and brushed as I prepared for my exit. My choices are few. Next, I trudged up the ladder to my cubical for the last time, gathered a few remaining artifacts, a bedroll, saddlebag, a couple of books, and tacky knick-knacks from my past.
Head down then approach the main gate alone, I can see small groups huddled about, whispering. Staring at me while a few flipped me off. Days earlier they would have cheered me, or us, as we arrived with a wagon of sought after supplies.
Outside, a line had formed at the gate. Here, the homeless would arrive each morning before sunrise, hoping beyond hope they could receive an invitation to stay. Few ever made it in. I could see Ms. Bishop interviewing newbies, look up and upon seeing me clearly upset, a mixture of disappointment and anger, and Mr. Maddox. He is always serious, focused on the task at hand. Approaching asks, “What do you think you are doing?”
Society was not improving, more tribal, certainly more violent, still broken, struggling, and… as a ‘retired teacher and lover of words’ seeking that all-encompassing term to describe our shared situation… turbulent, characterize by conflict, disorder, or confusion; neither controllable nor calm. Turbulent people… broken lives… My thoughts -punctuated by a bolt of lightning striking nearby, causing my horse to rear up as folks cringed.
There was a PLAN! The night before, we sat for the last time around the table.
Everyone sat, waiting, listening. Silence. It was simple, but first, “Time for that conversation.”
“Who should I give credit?”
Brett answers, “Everyone,”
Joshua remarked, “We played the hand we were dealt.”
Cord added, “We just thought, What would Jesse do?”
“Addison?”
“What did you envision would be the outcome of the meeting? Sandra, would let you just walk away? I was not about to test trust. Been there, done that,” Addison replies.
“I thought.”
“Grow up. Our days are running out, our choices are few. Susan still has a choice: stay and forget, stay or regret that she didn’t pull the trigger and fulfill her commitment to Sandra -yours or Mr. Eldridge’s son. Meanwhile, our welcome is ending soon and believe it’s time to move on.”
“She’s right, it’s decision time,” Brett adds, “as the bounty grows, the likelihood someone or some group will plot to collect the reward. Someone from inside, maybe, or from outside. Add to that by staying we endanger members of the Well.”
As the sun sets, shadows approach, stepping into the light generated by a flickering candle. Four or five bunched together and arriving with a mission.
“Indeed, trouble,” Joshua warns.
Stopping as the table’s edge, a familiar voice announces, “As a representative of the Leadership Committee and Mr. Maddox our security officer, we’re here to share our concern that you have placed us on the map and the word is, trouble is coming.”
Silence.
“So, after expanding the Well’s capacity, and providing materially, you are expelling us?”
“We feel that perhaps you all should vacate the Well.”
Standing, “Is this a request or…? Mr. Maddox, question… when trouble comes, would you prefer we are inside the gate or outside, looking in?”
Silence…
“Trouble is here and certainly we all appreciate all you’ve done, but the governor’s demand is clear. Hand you over or expect a grim reckoning.”
“And this is how you repay us for our loyalty? Just kicking us out?”
Head down, stepping back, “You’re the problem. You gotta go.”
Silence, until a single gunshot breaks the moment.
“They outnumber us… we out number you… Get gone.”
A flash of lightning lit the sky for a moment, followed by a rumble announcing the approaching storm. The lightning exposed the group, fearful yet determined, as well as others nearby, backup in the shadows, prepared to join in should there be resistance.
“See ya in the morning.”
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