Northburg was a rambling, sprawling town that had once been populated by fifty thousand people. Even after the bombings and the subsequent lootings, twelve thousand had survived.
Reports had filtered in to Riddell about the Northburg people, and he hadn't liked what he heard. This fellow Barr, for example—a wiry farmer who had pushed his way to the top, had taken charge of Northburg the way Riddell had Center City and the way strong men all over the country had probably taken over whatever town they were in. It was the only way to survive.
Only Barr wasn't like the others. Whereas Riddell wanted peace, prayers and prosperity for all the population of Center City, Barr was hungry for his own power and supremacy. After a lifetime of farming, suddenly he had control of a miniature kingdom, and he wanted more.
From the outskirts of the town, Northburg looked much like Center City or any other small town.
But a striking difference became evident as Riddell drew closer.
There was a wall around Northburg.
It rose some ten feet high, made out of row on row of gray bricks, and it seemed to encircle the entire city, turning it into an almost medieval-looking fortress.
"You going somewhere, friend?" a deep voice asked him suddenly.
Riddell turned and saw a man in a blue uniform approaching him, hand on holster. "I'm—I'm just out for a walk, sir," Riddell said, as timidly as he could.
"Outside the walls? Where's your permit?"