The Alliance by Jolina Petersheim Page A

swing. His face is twisted with repugnance. But I am not sure if it is directed toward Charlie’s insolent manner, or if he is as irritated as the rest of the Englischers .
    Jabil’s shoulders square, and though his expression remains impassive, his voice is far from it as he says, “Another ordinance you must obey, in order to live under the protection of the community, is to attend the Sunday services at the schoolhouse. Also, everyone who is able-bodied must work on every day but the Lord’s Day, or else they won’t eat. This goes for both Englischers and Mennonites alike. Trust in our Savior, patience with one another, and a hard work ethic are the tools we need to survive.”
    “Sounds like Jamestown,” someone quips.
    I turn toward the voice and see that Moses has made his way over to the schoolhouse and is leaning against the siding with his foot resting lightly on the middle step. We stare at each other, and then he lowers his gaze, his brows furrowed. Whatever kinship we established earlier today—when we were standing close together along our back porch railing, staring at the smoking carnage of his plane—has all but disappeared. I miss how it felt to have him speak to me like an equal, as if I had a say in the matter. A mind and a will of my own.
    The man in the floppy hat lights another cigarette. Holding the smoke for a second, he expels it through his nose and says in a graveled voice, “I’d rather starve than live like this.”
    Jabil stares at him, jaw working, and then addresses the entire community so the older man does not feel singled out. “It is easy to say you want to leave when you are well fed, but there is a benefit to being shielded within the community. You can help offer us protection, yes, for which we are grateful. And in exchange, we can teach you all how to live without the modern conveniences to which you are accustomed. We can teach you all how to preserve meat and vegetables, gather seeds for the next harvest, sew, can, bake, prepare tallow for candles and soap, and a thousand other skills that most Englischers forgot generations ago.
    “Some of these practices, even we Mennonites have forgotten due to the convenience of purchasing items ready-made. But there are no convenience stores now. Or according to the pilot, they soon will be destroyed by looting. Moreover, if this EMP truly exists—” Jabil halts midsentence. My stomach clenches at the touch of his eyes upon my skin. “If this is what we think it is . . . then we are going to need to cultivate a whole new way of life. So I would think carefully before anyone says he will not agree to the community’s edict. Without the community, you allwill probably not survive. That being said, we must all get along and work together, even if we come—”
    Charlie interrupts, his face reddening. “And without us protecting your hides, you all’d be dead the first time someone comes up that lane with a gun.”
    Moses pushes off the side of the schoolhouse and tries to use his body as a barrier between Charlie and Jabil. But I am not sure, in his condition, what he could do if a defense were needed. Jabil holds up his hand and shakes his head, letting Moses know he’s all right. And I find it odd that such disparate men are—for the time being, at least—functioning as a team.
    “Charlie,” Jabil intones, “as Bishop Lowell mentioned before, you are free to walk away right now. But if you decide to stay, then we must maintain a civil tone with each other.”
    Charlie doesn’t say anything more. Taking his cue, the rest of the Englischer men also remain silent. Perhaps we will need Charlie’s considerable size as a scare tactic when faced with the people who wish to devour our land. But I do have to wonder if he’s going to be more trouble to our community than his brawn is worth.
    Jabil concludes his oration and holds up the edict, upon which everything he has said was no doubt written beforehand by the bishop