by Mark Goodwin
Rev turned around and watched for a moment. “No. Looks like he’s posting up right there.”
“Tennessee will set up a roadblock on the state line and Kentucky will cordon off the entrance to the park.” Josh continued driving for another two miles then pulled to the side of the road.
“Everybody out. Quick!” Josh jumped out and quickly ran to the trunk. Popping it open he began hurtling the guns and suitcases into the thick bush. Mackenzie and Rev assisted him.
Once the car was thoroughly unloaded, Rev said, “I’m sorry about this. Is there anything I can do?”
Josh hurried back to the driver’s seat and pulled the door closed. “Take care of Stephanie and Micah for me.”
“You can count on me for that.” Rev waved.
Josh put the vehicle in gear and raced away. He traveled another four miles through the densely wooded park before he saw the flashing lights of an oncoming patrol car. He took a hard left and sped down the narrow-paved road. Josh had no map and no phone to consult but figured the road would eventually dead-end at the lake. The asphalt soon gave way to dirt and Josh had to slow down. Two state troopers turned onto the bumpy path behind him, yet Josh did not quit driving.
Finally, the road came to an end. Josh shoved the door open and began running into the woods.
“You can’t run forever!” yelled one of the troopers who’d exited his car to pursue Josh on foot.
Josh glanced back only for a moment to see that both troopers were behind him. “I don’t have to run forever. Only until you give up,” he whispered to himself.
Motivated to get away, Josh ran faster than the troopers. He circled through the forest and back to the location of the vehicles. Seeing that he had approximately a thirty-yard lead on his pursuers, he sprinted to the nearest patrol car. Josh jumped behind the wheel, put the vehicle in gear, and pulled out of the area.
“They’ll have the roadblock set up at the park entrance. I better head south.” He turned back onto the main park thoroughfare and raced in the direction of Tennessee. He took the first left and drove down the long road. Two more police vehicles turned onto the side road. Josh saw that he was in a densely wooded area. He could pull off and get enough of a head start to evade capture on foot. But if he did, they’d bring in helicopters and dogs. If that happened, perhaps he would be able to slip through, but Rev and Mackenzie would most certainly be caught. He had no choice. He’d have to allow himself to be captured. Josh arrived at a large campground area where he drove around and around until the patrol cars eventually pinned him in.
By now, two more state troopers had joined the chase and he found himself encircled by four vehicles. The troopers all exited their vehicles and stood with guns drawn behind the cover of their doors. “Get out of the car with your hands up!” yelled one.
Josh slowly complied.
“Hands on your head. Lie face-down on the ground,” yelled the lead trooper.
Again, Josh did as he’d been instructed.
Immediately, the officers pounced on him. They quickly cuffed him and rifled through his pockets, searching for weapons or contraband. Once he’d been declared clean, they stood him up.
“What’s your name? Why did you run? Are you sick?” The lead trooper wore a surgical mask over his mouth and nose. He wore blue nitrile gloves. His badge said Miller.
Josh decided that playing on their fears of the virus might be his best hope to gain an opportunity to escape. He feigned an uncontrollable coughing fit. He sniffed and said in a nasal voice, “Joshua Carter.” He thought perhaps his previous FBI alias might still be in the system. Either way, he would not divulge his real name and most certainly could not use the name Peter Gray.
“Social?” The lead trooper backed away, as if trying to avoid contact with an infected person.
Josh let his head hang low. “I don’t remember.”
“Where’s your ID?”
“Lost it.”
“Simmons, bring a thermometer.” Sergeant Miller turned back to Josh.
Trooper Simmons returned from his vehicle with a no-touch infrared thermometer and scanned Josh’s forehead. “98.9. Looks normal to me.”
The other two troopers whom Josh had led through the woods arrived. “He wasn’t running like someone who’s sick,” said the infuriated trooper who’d lost control of his vehicle.
“Probably an act,” said Miller. “But I don’t want him in my car. Call the quarantine van. They can clear him before we take him to the tank.”
Sergeant Miller took out his phone and snapped a photo of Josh. “We’ll figure out who you are soon enough. I’m no fan of the GU, but this facial recognition software from Omniscience makes my job easier.” The sergeant pressed a few buttons and waited. His lips tightened as he read the phone. “Says you’ve got a DGS warrant, Mr. Carter, or Mr. Stone, whichever you prefer.”
“Two names?” Simmons looked over the sergeant’s shoulder. “Two complete profiles? Why would he be in the system twice?”
Miller glared at Josh. “He must have been a fed. Probably worked deep undercover.” He turned away from his captive. “Anyway, he won’t be our problem for long. DGS will pick him up tonight or tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 12
And Job spake, and said, “Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, ‘There is a man child conceived.’ Let that day be darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon it.”
Job 3:2-4
Josh sat on the bunk of his cell Monday morning. The bars were covered in thick plastic. He couldn’t see outside, and he had nothing with which to pass the time except his own thoughts. He’d slept little the night before and had no idea what time it was.
A trooper pulled the plastic down from the bars. “Good news.”
“This was all a misunderstanding?” Josh stood up from the bunk.
“Ha-ha,” laughed the trooper. “Not quite. But at least you don’t have the Red Virus. Here’s your breakfast.”
Josh took the tray of food passed to him through the slot in the door. “Thanks.” Josh prayed before eating, then cracked his boiled egg and ate the hard, square cube of bread wondering if it was supposed to be some kind of biscuit.
Shortly after he’d finished eating, two men in black suits showed up to his cell. A trooper opened the door. “Your ride is here. Turn around and face the wall.”
Josh complied, and the two men in black came inside, shackled his hands and feet, then escorted him out of the facility. He was placed in the back of a white transport van with no windows. During the long ride, he had plenty of time to think about Stephanie and Micah. “I should have never gone to California with Rev. I’ve sacrificed whatever time I had left with my family for a lost cause, some dyed-in-the-wool liberal that is never going to come around anyway.” Josh could feel the dark poison of regret infecting his soul.
“No. I can’t let myself think like that. God will take care of Stephanie and Micah. I took the only course of action I could take and still live with myself. If this is the outcome, then so be it. Who knows, Mackenzie may see the light yet.”
Josh thought about three hours had passed when the van doors opened. He was in a subterranean garage, and the two men escorted him to a room where he was left all alone, still shackled hand and foot.
“This looks familiar. They brought me to the FBI field office in Louisville.”
The door opened and in walked Carole-Jean Harris. “Mr. Stone. We meet again.” She motioned to her pair of henchmen. “Take off his handcuffs, but leave the chains on his feet.”
“You’ve got the evil villain thing down pat,” he smirked as he rubbed his sore wrists.
“Evil villain?” She drew her eyebrows up toward the center of her forehead. “I’m the hero in this story. You’re the treasonous malefactor. That should have been made relatively plain for you by the restraints—unless you’re completely delusional.”
She pulled up a metal stool, took a seat, and crossed her leg
s. “So, tell me, what have you been up to these days?”
“Fishing, mostly. What about you?”
She smiled, as if to show his smart-alecky comment didn’t bother her in the least. “Mr. Stone, you’ve obviously been in contact with the remaining members of Patriot Pride. They left town about the same time you did. I also suspect you and Agent Vega were closer than you let on. Evidently, he was in possession of information from one of your raids in Tampa when you were still with DHS. He caused quite a stir by withholding evidence.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” said Josh.
“Mmm. Is that so?” She handed a photograph of Emilio and Josh in the faded-blue Nissan. “This was taken by a traffic cam in Elizabethtown, Kentucky on September 13th. We also have a hotel room booked by Melanie Fisk in E-Town. I believe she utilized her position with DGS to provide information to Agent Vega, although I can’t quite figure out why she would jeopardize her freedom.
“On top of everything else, I have this sneaking suspicion that you and Agent Vega were involved in a shooting that occurred in Cincinnati on the morning of the 13th.”
Josh held up the photo. “I have an alibi. I was in Elizabethtown on the 13th.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m not impressed, Mr. Stone. It’s two hours away.”
“If you’re speeding.”
“Which I assume you were, after your hit.”
“Who is it that I supposedly killed?”
She let one corner of her mouth turn up. “Okay, Mr. Stone. I’ll play along. But know that before all of this is over, you’ll be the one providing me with the details that I want. It was a pair of exchange students from Saudi Arabia. Does that ring a bell?”
He shook his head. “If you know anything, you know they weren’t exchange students. Not that I was there, of course.”
“To be perfectly honest, I don’t care one bit who they were. That’s not why I’m here, and it’s not why you’re here,” she said.
“So, you’re not interested in the truth?” Josh wanted to see if Carole-Jean was involved in the cover-up. “You’re not the least bit curious about why the Tampa DGS SAC Brian Smith was killed?”
“Smith had a heart attack.” She said smugly.
“One day after he received an email detailing the intentions of four terrorist cells around the country to carry out a biological attack. Specifically, to release a weaponized virus and trigger a pandemic.”
“You and your conspiracy theories. You were only undercover for a matter of weeks. I can’t believe you were so easily indoctrinated.”
“You’re supposed to be protecting the country! I can’t believe you’re not willing to face the facts!”
“The facts? I openly embrace the facts. And the facts are you are in my custody. You have information on the whereabouts of the missing Patriot Pride members, Agent Vega, and Melanie Fisk. And you will give me that information, sooner or later. My resolve is much stronger than yours, Mr. Stone. Of course, I’ll be sitting in my leather office chair while you’re attempting to resist enhanced interrogation techniques, so perhaps that’s not an entirely fair comparison. Either way, I’m going to win.”
Josh shook his head. “No, Carole-Jean. You’ve chosen the wrong side. You’ve already lost.”
“We’ll see about that.” She smiled and signaled to the men in black suits. “Hans, Turner, let’s get Mr. Stone settled in and introduce him to phase one of the interrogation process. We need to get this going so I can locate the rest of the group.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The taller of the two agents returned the cuffs to Josh’s wrists. “Let’s go.” The big man ushered Josh out the door and down the hall. He was led to an elevator, which took him to sub-level 2, the floor below the one where he’d just been. When the doors opened, Josh was pushed down yet another dimly-lit concrete corridor, past a steel door where a row of small cells awaited. The shorter agent opened the solid steel door to one of the cells, which looked to be only three-feet wide and six feet long. The air inside was icy cold. The tall man shoved Josh inside.
Josh protested, “This cell isn’t big enough to lie down in with the toilet. It doesn’t even have a bunk. Where am I supposed to sleep?”
“Luckily, you won’t have to worry about that, at least not for a while. For the first part of the day, you’ll be standing on a wooden crate with your arms chained to that ring.” The agent pointed to the iron circle bolted to the ceiling. “If you get tired, just tell us what we need to know, and we’ll have you transferred to a medium-security facility with all the comforts of home. You’ll get a standard-sized cell, mattress, three meals a day, television, a bunk, blankets, showers, other inmates to play cards with, it will feel like a luxury spa compared to this place.” He looked at the other agent. “Turner, can you go down to the supply room and get the two-foot crate?”
“Sure,” said Turner.
Agent Hans added, “And grab the eighteen-inch crate while you’re there. Maybe looking at it will motivate Mr. Stone to cooperate sooner rather than later.”
“Absolutely.” Turner left the cell.
“You should be fairly comfortable with the two-footer,” said Hans. “I’m guessing a foot and a half will be tight. You’ll be standing on your tippy-toes at one foot, and if you last long enough to go to the six-inch crate, you’ll pretty much be dangling from the ceiling. I don’t recommend holding out that long.”
Josh glanced down at the bare cement floor. He was not looking forward to the coming days and hours. Turner came back into the cell. He placed the wooden box beneath the metal ring on the ceiling. “Go ahead and step up on there for me.”
Josh frowned. “I’m not making this easy for you. If you want me up there, put me up there.”
Hans slid the wooden crate out the cell door with his foot. “Bring in the shorter one. Let’s try this again.”
Turner brought in the next size shorter crate. “Step up onto the crate.”
Josh realized he’d just bypassed a much more comfortable position. He complied.
“Raise your arms over your head,” said Hans. Josh did so, and the taller of the two agents clipped his cuffs to a steel carabiner and fastened it to the ring on the ceiling. Josh could stand with his arms stretched and his feet flat on the box, but just barely.
“We’ll be back to check on you in a while.” Hans stood ready to close the steel door. “Unless you have something to tell us?”
Josh lowered his gaze and mumbled. “No. I don’t have anything to say.”
“Okay. See you in a while.” The door screeched as it shut and the locking mechanism echoed inside the cell as it locked.
Josh tried to ready his mind and spirit for what he was about to endure. “God, give me strength. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this, but you have to protect Micah and Stephanie, please God, that’s all I ask.”
Twenty minutes of standing in that position was all it took for his shoulders and wrists to start feeling uncomfortable. An hour later, and his back began to ache. Time began to lose meaning. Josh could only focus on his breathing. He supposed he’d been hanging from the ceiling for at least four hours.
More time passed. He couldn’t be sure how long. Finally, he heard the sound of the lock. The door opened. Hans and Turner walked in. Hans stood up on the crate and removed the carabiner. “We got a late start today, so think of it as orientation. We’ll get a jump on things first thing in the morning.” When he let go of Josh’s arms, he dropped straight to the floor. “Here’s some bread. That’s your dinner.”
Josh looked up with defeated eyes. “Can I have something to drink?”
“You’ve got water in there.” Hans pointed to the toilet. “It’s clean.”
Josh was too tired to care. “Can I have a blanket for the night?”
“Blankets are a luxury. Give me what I want, and you can have all the blankets you want,” said Hans.
Josh curled up next to the toilet on the floor.
“Should I tell him the good news, or do you want to?” asked Turner.
“I’ll let you do the honors,” said Hans.
Turner pointed to speakers in the ceiling. “This cell has surround sound. We’ll play you some music to help you sleep.”
Hans laughed, “See, this isn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be. Do you prefer death metal or speed metal?”
Josh knew exactly where this was going. He didn’t respond.
“And we’ve got a night-light, so you don’t get scared of the dark,” laughed Turner.
Josh had already noticed the two halogen spotlights mounted in opposite corners of the small cell and figured sleep deprivation might be on the menu. His torture had only begun and already he wanted to cry.
“Sleep tight.” Hans pulled the door shut and turned the lock.
Josh decided against eating the bread. He flushed it down the toilet so no evidence would indicate that he was trying to die. And despite the unbearable dryness in his mouth, he would not drink water. “I can’t stick it out forever, but if I can make it three or four days without talking, I should die of dehydration.” He saw no other way out but death. “It’s the only chance I have of not telling them where the compound is.”
Shortly after the agents left, the blaring, distorted sounds of heavy-metal guitar accompanied by incomprehensible screaming permeated the small cell. Seconds later, the piercingly bright halogen light flooded the room. Josh curled up into a ball, shielded his eyes from the light, and stuffed his fingers into his ears.
All night, Josh prayed that God would take him from this earth. He prayed that he might not live to see another day. The anguish assaulted him constantly, and the torment seemed unending.
CHAPTER 13
And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched: where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. And if thy foot offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter halt into life, than having two feet to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched: where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out: it is better for thee to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire: where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.