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Lord will go with us, as He always has," Zechariah added quietly.
    They were all afraid, he could see it in their eyes. Then: "I will," Hannah Flood announced loudly. She looked at the others.
    "As will I," Amen Judah volunteered, nodding at his wife Abigail, who involuntarily held out a restraining hand but then took it back immediately. She bit her lip to hold back her tears.
    "And I too, Father," said Comfort Brattle, Zechariah's daughter.
    Zechariah started involuntarily. "You are too young," he protested.
    "I am twenty, Father, and strong and not afraid . . . well, not afraid to go with you," she added.
    Zechariah hesitated. It would not be fair to the others if he rejected his own blood for what would appear to be the sake of saving it. He had always advocated a person's responsibility to the community. If Comfort had the courage to volunteer, then he would take her. "That's it, then. The four of us will go," he announced.
    "There are enough elders to remain behind to take care of the children, if we don't . .
    . don't . . ." his voice trailed off. It seemed the other members breathed a sigh of relief as they came forward individually to wish the party well.
    "Zach," Amen said, "I suggest we leave tonight."
    "Yes," Hannah added. "Let us go as we came, in easy stages, moving in the darkness. We can get water on the second day, at the pond we passed coming up here. We won't need much food."
    Zechariah put his arm around his daughter and drew her close as he talked to the other two. "Good. Let us take with us whatever tools we can use as weapons. We have some knives among us." He knew perfectly well that the few knives they had would be useless if whoever had attacked the camp returned, but knives were all they had, and the possession of even those useless tools might give them some slight confidence.
    "Father! Let me come too!" Samuel shouted. He had come back from his post at the cavern's mouth, attracted by the sound of the meeting his father had called.
    "No!" Amen Judah shouted. He looked at Zechariah. "No," he continued more softly, "you must stay with the rest. We cannot spare all our manpower on this venture."
    "You have left your post, Samuel. Get back to it at once," Zechariah said. When Samuel made no move to return to the cavern entrance, his father stepped up to where he stood, seized him by the arm and dragged him back. "Boy, you are a watcher! You watch. You observe. You report what you see out there. You do not leave this spot until relieved by another watcher. The next time I give you an order, dammit, you will obey it, understand?" Zechariah breathed heavily as he spoke.
    Samuel looked up at his father in astonishment and with a twinge of fear. He had never heard him speak that way before. The tone of command was a dimension to his father's personality he did not know. "We are like soldiers now, son," Zechariah continued in a gentler voice. "Like those Confederation Marines you admire so much, we obey our orders."
    Zechariah looked at his son. He will grow into a handsome man, he thought. "You are my only son. If Comfort and I do not return, it will be on you to continue the Brattle name, Sam." He put both hands on the boy's shoulders. "Until we are all out of this trouble, I am counting on you."
    Back with the others again, Zechariah suggested that since it was hours before sundown, they should get some rest to prepare for the long night's trek. He took his place on a pallet beside his daughter. As he was about to fall asleep, Comfort nudged him. "Father?"
    "Yes, daughter, what is it?"
    "Father, this idea to go back to the camp now, did it come to you as a Particular Faith?"
    Zechariah sighed resignedly. He recognized that tone in her voice. Sometimes Comfort's orthodoxy was questionable. "Daughter, don't bug me now, okay?"
    The campsite was a vast shambles. Flesh-eating scavengers had fed sumptuously on what remained of the dead, but there was enough left to . . .
    "No power of our world could have done