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aura, no harbinger of his seizures and spells. No. Pure unadulterated joy filled his heart and dizzied his mind. He gazed at the rugged landscape and thanked the good Lord for giving the congregation’s planning committee the wisdom to settle here. No one would ever find them, not even the evil spies of the United States government
    “Brother Aaron,” he waved to a muscular middle-aged man and indicated that he should join him.
    Aaron clambered up onto the rock and snapped off a smart salute. “Yes, Sir.”
    “You’re not in the military now. I’m your spiritual leader.”
    With a horse shoe of hair remaining on his balding head, Aaron reminded Zeke of a monk—his monk—willing to do whatever it took to prepare for End Days. A former colonel with the US Army Corps of Engineers, Aaron had proposed situating the colony in the Sierra Madre.
    “Tell me about this beautiful place.”
    As if reporting to his superior officer, Aaron rattled off details. “Four-thousand feet above sea level. One of the most rugged, remote, and inaccessible areas in North America. Isolated from cities likely to be bombed in a nuclear war. Other than the Chihuahua al Pacífico Railroad and the Gran Vision paved road, there’s been so little development, the Army Corps of Engineers’ maps from the Mexican and Civil wars are still useful.”
    “Water and food?”
    “In the rainy season, we collect water in barrels and store it in cisterns. Apples, beans, corn, and squash. Our agricultural committee brought some cultivars and seeds they thought would be suitable for this part of the world. We’ve been living off our own plantings for the last six months.” He held his hands a foot apart. “Brother Nathan grew the biggest butternut squash I’ve ever seen.”
    “What’s the secret?”
    “Goat manure.” Aaron grinned. “We use portable corrals, pasture them where we plan to plant, and let them fertilize plots of land.”
    Zeke guffawed. “Where did you get a notion like that?”
    “From the Indians.”
    Aaron loved to play practical jokes on new recruits. Did he have the balls to try to put one over on his spiritual leader?
    “Indians? You pulling my leg?”
    “Nope. They’re around, but you won’t see them much. They’re not fond of outsiders. Chabochis in their tongue.” He waved his hand toward the panoramic view. “Some live in caves without electricity or running water.”
    “Threat potential?”
    Surprise crossed Aaron’s face. “They’re shy. Call themselves the Rarámuri—the runners. I’ve been told they can chase a deer to death.”
    Zeke unclenched his fist and smirked. “We ain’t fawns, and we ain’t running away.”
    Aaron glanced away and took a deep breath. “There was one among us who did.”
    “Who?”
    “Brother Jim.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “He’d been acting a little—weird. I caught the man whipping his back with a knotted rope. I took it away from him, told him that wasn’t the way of our community. He said he only listened to you, not me. I figured he’d get over it. Next morning he was gone.”
    “Do the others know about this?”
    Aaron nodded. “We think he wandered out into the desert and died.”
    Zeke blew out a long breath. “Well, I’m here now, just in time, it seems. Doubt is contagious. Our congregation is like a group of children. They need us to be strong and give them firm guidance, not boogey men to fear.” He dismissed the man with a curt nod.
    Time to stir up the troops and put on a show. He knew just how to do it, too. Zeke spread his legs on the altar and raised his arms to the heavens. A thousand followers flattened themselves on their stomachs on the ground, their arms outstretched in surrender to their leader, their father, their Lord and master. He liked the sounds of that: their Lord and master .
    “Dear God, we come to you in humble awe of your goodness to us. Thank you for this beautiful citadel, which we will defend as your people did at Masada. We