by Ralph Gibbs
“Kayla,” the president said over the intercom. “Send in my guests.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And have some drinks and sandwiches sent up.”
“Right away, Mr. President.” Kayla turned to the trio. “Miss Justice, Mr. Turnipseed, you may go in now.”
Danica, Franklin, and Paris stood up to go into the president’s office.
“I’m sorry, Miss Ishida, the president only wants to meet with Miss Justice and Mr. Turnipseed.”
“I’m not sure I want to go in without you,” Danica said, hesitating. “I might need you to keep me from embarrassing myself.”
“You’ll be fine. I’ll be right here.”
“Hell, I’m not even sure what he wants with me. I’m no one special.”
He’ll tell you,” Paris said, smiling.
“The president is waiting,” Kayla said sounding impatient. As Danica and Franklin approached, one of the two Secret Service agents guarding the door opened it, and one followed them in.
“It’s okay, Simon, you can wait outside,” President Dixson said to the agent. “I’m not in any danger.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Simon said. Before closing the door, he glared at them as if daring either to try anything stupid. That glare was a promise that if they tried to harm the president, he would single-handedly break their necks. Danica figured he could do it easy enough.
“Come in, come in,” the president said, greeting them. “Miss Justice, Mr. Turnipseed, you don’t know how happy I am to see you both.” He gestured to the couch. “Please have a seat.” Adjusting his suit, he sat in the chair opposite them. “Did Paris tell you what I wanted?”
“She didn’t say a damn word,” Franklin said almost grumbling.
“That’s my fault. I told her not to say anything. I wanted to present my offer first hand. I find that if someone really, really high up in an organization asks a favor, it’s harder for people to say no.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone higher than you right now, Mr. President,” Franklin said.
The president smiled. “Exactly.”
The door opened, and a man in army fatigues entered carrying a large tray with bread, cheese, and meat. There were three bottles of soda and a pitcher of iced tea.
“Tell me that’s sweet tea,” Danica said, almost purring.
“Yes, ma’am,” the soldier said. He poured her a glass and handed it to her. She emptied it. He stood by and refilled it.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re most welcome.”
“We can take it from here,” the president said. He turned to Danica and Franklin. “Would you like to eat first?”
“I’m fine,” Franklin said.
“Me too,” Danica said, taking her cue from Franklin even though her mouth was salivating from the meat and cheeses displayed on the tray.
“What is it you want from us?” Franklin asked in an even tone.
“First, let me say that I’m quite impressed with the little community you’ve started, Danica,” President Dixon said. “They’re well behaved, and there is a level of organization we’re not seeing in other makeshift communities. They’re self-reliant and resourceful. That is a direct credit to your leadership.”
“I’m not sure how much of that I can take credit for. They were already a community when they got here. Our organization just carried over from Charlotte, and they did it all without me being here. Most of the others in the area are a Hodge-Podge of strangers and don’t know if they can trust each other. It’ll take time, but they’ll get there.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Franklin said. “You’ve done a great job with them.”
The president walked over to the map and pointed at it. “The United States . . .” he started and then stopped and turned to them. “Except that it’s not as united as it once was. According to all the reports I’ve seen, before the world imploded, several groups announced their separation from the United States. They came out and said they were forming their own nation. Now, I put little stock in most of those reports because that was before the plague ran its course. Most of them are dead. And people have been declaring that sort of thing since the United States became the United States. Still, some are not recognizing the authority of the US government anymore, and that is unacceptable.”
“Like Atlanta,” Franklin said.
“Like Atlanta,” the president confirmed. “Of the groups I know about, they are the biggest. Beyond that, there are small settlements scattered everywhere in the United States. We know about three hundred settlements. The problem is that each is living under their own laws. Right now, they’re living peacefully with other settlements. However, if we don’t establish governmental authority, as supplies run low, that will change. Settlements will raid weaker settlements for supplies. Slavery will emerge again.” He stopped and glared at them. “I’ll not have it. I’ll not let history record that President National Alfred Dixon presided over the final gasp of the United States.”
“Fine Mr. President, but what do you want us to do about it?” Danica asked.
“I’m putting together a group of US Marshals, just as they had in the 1800s. These marshals will travel the United States bringing law and order back to the people. There are a lot of bad people out there, and I want them brought to justice, and I want you to help.”
“I’m not qualified to do something like that,” Danica said.
“You were a state trooper. I’d say that makes you qualified.”
“No, I wasn’t. Look, Mr. President, my family has been in law enforcement for generations. My father was a cop, my father’s brother, uncle, grandfather and a good many wives. My father trained me my entire life to follow in his footsteps, but I didn’t get a chance to go to the academy. I put on my father’s uniform as a way to keep idiots from causing me trouble. Since it worked, I just kept it on and let them think what they wanted.”
“I know. Paris filled me in.” He walked over to his desk, picked up an object on the desk, and tossed it over to her. “I also know how young you are, and I don’t care about that either.” Danica looked at the badge in her hand. “You put that on, and you are a US Marshal.”
“Shit,” Danica said, looking at the badge.
“Franklin? What about you?” the president asked.
“Mr. President, I must decline,” Franklin said.
“I don’t understand,” the president said. “I thought you wanted to bring this character . . . Wendell . . . to justice.”
“No, Mr. President. I want to kill him.”
“Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to,” the president said. Franklin reached into his pocket and pulled the list from the plastic bag and handed it to the president.
“What’s this?”
“My crimes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Danica hasn’t been the only one deceiving people. I was never a guard at the Virginia State Penitentiary. I was a prisoner with Wendell. It’s where we met and where we became enemies.”
“What were you in for?” the president asked.
“Manslaughter. I’m was . . . Am. . . An alcoholic. I was driving home drunk and hit and killed a cop and his family. The plague started shortly after I arrived to serve my sentence. For some reason, the plague never affected me. I eventually escaped.”
The president looked at the paper in his hand. “And this list?”
“After I escaped my cell, I went through the prison records. Those I deemed too violent or deviant to live . . . I executed. The others I set free. Wendell got away before I had a chance to deal with him and his friends. That paper lists everyone I executed, and those I set free, along with their crimes.”
The president frowned. “I see.”
“I request at this time that you lock me up to serve out the rest of my time.”
“It says here the rest of your time equates to several life terms.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“What ab
out Wendell?” the president asked.
“I hoped you would still let me go after him. I would have gone after him first, except I wanted to make sure Danica got here safely. If you let me go after Wendell, I give you my word, I’ll take care of the problem; then come back for the rest of my sentence.”
“The president picked up the phone. “Kayla, can you call the master-at-arms to my office?”
“Wait a minute Mr. President,” Danica said. “You can’t be serious.”
“Is there a problem?” the Secret Service agent said rushing in.
“Yes, but nothing I can’t handle, Simon,” the president said. When the master-at-arms arrives, show him in. The master-at-arms must have been close because he arrived within a few minutes and flanked by Simon and his partner.
“Sergeant Andrews,” the president said when he came into the office. “Please escort Mr. Turnipseed to a cell and lock him in until I can figure out what to do with him.”
“Yes sir,” he said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.
“What’s going on,” Paris said, coming to the door.
“Come in Agent Ishida,” the president said as the master-at-arms started to lead Franklin away. “I’ll explain.”
Paris stepped in front of Franklin, stopping the master-at-arms and the two agents.
“Step aside,” the master-at-arms said.
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s okay Paris. This is what was always going to happen,” Franklin said.
“No, it’s not okay,” Paris said. “The past is the past. You have more than made up for your crimes.”
“We’ll talk—”
“Agent Ishida, step aside,” the master-at-arms said more forcibly. She didn’t move.
“Stand down Agent Ishida,” the president said.
“Yes sir,” Paris said but didn’t move.
“Paris, don’t get yourself in trouble over me. Do what the president says and stand down.”
“I am standing down,” she said, still standing in front of the master-at-arms. “This is me standing down.”
“You can’t take them all,” Franklin said. He nodded at Simon. “Besides, this guy’s a brick. I’m not even sure I could take him.” Paris looked at him like he was a fruit bar. Simon stood over six feet tall and looked as if he could crush walnuts in his eyelids and pop someone’s head like a zit by flexing his biceps. He was the immovable object.
“I don’t see him being a problem,” Paris said, confidently. “I can wade through the three of them in about a minute.”
“That fast,” the master-at-arms said, mockingly.
“My mom always told me not to play with my food,” she responded, without a hint of malice.
“She might be able to do it faster with my help,” Danica said starting to move to Paris’ side.
“Stop it, you two,” Franklin said loudly. He then lowered his voice. “Let them do their job.”
“Listen to him,” the president said. “Your loyalty to your friend is commendable but unnecessary. Stand aside and let me explain.”
Franklin looked at Paris and nodded. She reluctantly agreed. The master-at-arms escorted Franklin away.
“Sir, you have the power to pardon him,” Danica said when the door was closed. “He’s done enough good and helped enough people to earn a pardon.”
“I do, but I won’t,” the president said. He held up his hand to forestall her protest. “Relax, Miss Justice. If I pardoned Franklin, it would do him more harm than good. I was a lawyer before I entered politics, and I’ve seen this before. He feels so guilty for what he’s done he feels he needs to be punished. If he’s not, it’ll eat him up inside. He’ll become depressed, and he might even start drinking again. He’ll look for ways to redeem himself, maybe in more destructive ways. In the end, he won’t be satisfied until he’s dead.”
“So, what do we do now?” Paris asked. “We need him. I need him.”
“I still intend to use him, but that is contingent on the two of you,” the president said.
“I don’t understand,” Danica said.
“I wanted Franklin to lead a group of US Marshalls around the country to help restore law and order and bring settlements back under the authority of the United States. Given his confession, I can’t exactly put him in charge. I’m not going to put Agent Ishida in charge because I want her to remain a Special Agent. I might want to use her in a different role from time to time.” He looked at Danica. “That leaves you. Since you’ll be the most experienced person in your group, not charged with a crime, and not an FBI agent, I want to put you in charge.”
“And Franklin?” Danica asked.
“I won’t pardon him, but I can see that he’s put on a work-release program. After each mission, I’ll lock him up, but only after he spends at least a month with his son. When out in the field he’ll be released into your custody. I figure after a few years of fieldwork, if you’re not all dead, I’ll broach the subject of a pardon.”
“And if I don’t want to lead this group?” Danica asked.
“Your friend stays locked up.”
“That’s blackmail,” Danica said.
“It is not,” the president said, sounding indignant. “It’s political leverage.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Danica said and then sighed. “I’ll agree on two conditions.”
“And they are?” the president said surprised, but knowing even if he turned the conditions down, she would accept his offer.
“I want someone to teach me how to fly a fighter.”
“Why?” the president sounded taken aback. There were a lot of conditions that ran through his mind, but that wasn’t one of them.
“It’s what I wanted to do before the plague.”
The president shrugged. “Okay. And the other?”
“I want to bring a few more people in on this,” Danica said. “Other marshals.”
“I have more stars in the desk,” the president said. He reached in and threw out a handful. Danica looked at the array of badges and then pinned the one in her hand to her chest.
The End of Broken Justice, Book I of the Justice Files.
Book II of the Justice Files, Hard Justice, forthcoming.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As a former Intelligence Specialist with the United States Navy, Ralph Gibbs, when added up, spent more than a dozen years at sea on the ships USS Coral Sea (CV-43), USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63), USS Author W. Radford (DD-968), and USS Spruance (DD-963). He spent time in Norfolk, Virginia, San Diego, California, Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage, Alaska, and Mayport, Florida. He participated several Operations including Desert Shield, Desert Storm, Southern Watch, Enduring Freedom, and Iraqi Freedom. For his efforts, he earned more than a dozen awards including the Meritorious Service Medal, and the Navy & Marine Corps Commendation Medal. While he would be the first to admit he didn’t love every minute of his time in the service, if he had it to do over, he’d make the same choice.
During his time in the navy, the author developed a love for doomsday novels during the many years he spent at sea traveling the world. As a love letter to the great apocalyptic novels of the past, the author created a smart and realistic story with diverse characters that make intelligent decisions. After retiring from the navy, Ralph worked as a newspaper reporter in North Carolina and Kodiak, Alaska where he wrote hundreds of articles about sports, crime, local personalities, and the environment. His work gained national attention. Ralph has a degree in history from American Public University and works in the telecommunications industry. The author currently resides in North Carolina with his permanent girlfriend, two spoiled dogs, and three deranged cats.
ayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share