by Mark Goodwin
Ava put her phone in her back pocket. “Green beans and lettuce are coming up. So is the corn. But we could use some rain. Charity and I try to water every day, but it’s a lot of ground to cover.”
Buckley jumped off the couch and walked to the window.
“What is it, Buck?” Ava watched him closely.
Buckley started with a low growl, which soon grew into a full-fledged fit of barking.
She got up from the couch and peered out the window. “Humvees, two of them!”
Ulysses stood quickly. “Charity, take Buckley to the bathroom, then get your rifle and take cover near your bedroom door. Ava, get my rifle and stash it behind the door. Get yours and take up a position in the kitchen. If you hear me say I have no choice, come out shooting.”
“Yes, sir.” Ava sprinted to get Ulysses’ rifle and her own. She propped Ulysses’ gun against the wall near the front door where he stood peeking out the peephole. Ava squatted behind the refrigerator with her AR-15 ready to engage.
Ulysses called out to the girls, “The Hummers have Alliance insignia on the doors, but that still doesn’t explain why they’d be here with no invitation and no advanced warning. If they’re aware of who we are, they should have known better than to come slipping up on us.
“Two people just got out. One has on a black suit. The other has on a full military dress uniform, highly decorated.” He paused for a moment. “Silver Eagles, he’s a colonel.”
Ava’s heart sank. If they were being attacked, the hostiles would send more than two people. And they wouldn’t be wearing dress uniforms. This was worse than an attack. The only possible reason for the visit was to inform her that Foley had been killed.
Seconds later, she heard the knock. Ulysses didn’t open the door, rather he called out from inside, “What do you want?”
“We’d like to speak with Ava Wilson.”
“It’s Mitchem,” she whispered under her breath. She was honored that the military had sent such a high-ranking officer to notify the widow, especially since Foley was in the militia and not the regular army, but she couldn’t understand how they’d botched her name.
“Sorry, no one here by that name,” Ulysses replied, still not opening the door.
“What about Ava Adams?” the voice inquired.
“Getting warmer, but still not right,” she said under her breath.
“I’m sorry, you have the wrong address. Have a nice day,” Ulysses said.
The voice implored him yet again. “Am I speaking with First Sergeant Ulysses Adams?”
Ava had never heard anyone address her father by his rank.
The voice continued, “We have a message for Ava, First Sergeant. It’s from the acting president.”
“Condolences from Blackwell,” she whispered to herself. Ava felt sure it was nothing more than a form letter that may or may not have Blackwell’s actual signature. It would say something about the great debt of gratitude that the Alliance owed to Foley Mitchem for his faithful service and absolute sacrifice in the contest for freedom. To not take it would be dishonoring to her husband. She leaned her rifle against the refrigerator and stood up. Ava checked her pistol tucked in the back of her jeans and pulled her shirt down over it. With her head already hung in mourning, she made her way to the front door. “It’s okay, Dad. It’s about Foley.”
Ulysses seemed to know the nature of the visit without her explanation. His lips pressed tightly together and his eyes looked pained. He nodded and stepped back from the door.
Ava swallowed hard, took a deep breath, straightened her arms to steel herself for the grim report. She unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. “I’m Ava. Ava Mitchem.”
The man in the dress uniform looked at the one in the black suit as if this reply had taken him by surprise.
The man in the dark suit nodded to his compatriot as if to indicate this was indeed the woman in question.
“Ms. Mitchem,” said the colonel.
“Mrs.” She was aghast at the colonel’s lack of decorum, especially over such a sensitive matter.
The colonel said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mitchem, Acting-President Blackwell requests the honor of your presence for a private meeting.”
“Excuse me?”
“The acting president would like to speak with you, in private.”
She looked behind the door at her father, then at the two vehicles parked out front. Ava was totally confused. “Is he dead?”
“Pardon me?”
“Is he dead?”
“Are you asking me if the president is dead?” The colonel looked as if he’d just awoken from a strange and disturbing dream.
“No! My husband, Foley Mitchem. If he’s dead, why can’t you just tell me! What’s all this business about Blackwell wanting to see me?”
Ulysses stepped forward. “What’s going on? Why are you people here? State your business plainly. If you have some news about Foley, just spit it out. Can’t you see that you’re upsetting my daughter?”
The man in the black suit pulled out a business card and handed it to Ulysses. “Look, First Sergeant, I’m not sure why you think we’re here, but I assure you, we have no other motive than the one Colonel Barr has already told you.
“But please, allow me to restate our assignment. I’m Agent John Schaub with the Secret Service. Unfortunately, we do not have any information about Foley Mitchem. We do, however, have a request from the acting president for an informal meeting with Ava. You’d be welcomed to come along, First Sergeant, as the acting president may want to involve you in the conversation as well.”
“Blackwell is here?” Ulysses looked out at the Humvees.
“No, but he’s very close. We can take you to him,” Schaub replied.
Filled with hesitant-relief, Ava looked at her father, then at the two men. “So, Foley is still alive?”
The colonel took a deep breath. “As Agent Schaub has said, we don’t have information regarding your husband. Since he’s fighting with the militia we don’t have any means of finding out his status or location.”
Ava’s worry over Foley slowly faded. “But why does President Blackwell want to talk to me?”
“The subject matter is confidential.” The colonel straightened his jacket.
“Can I refuse?”
“It’s a free country—at least for a little while longer. But the acting president really hopes you’ll speak with him, ma’am.”
Ulysses crossed his arms tightly. “Hold on! How did you people find us? And how did you know Foley is in the militia?”
Agent Schaub answered. “We spoke with some people at Altus Air Force Base. We heard Ava had been there with her father and her wounded fiancé. Sorry, we didn’t know the two of you had gotten married since you were at Altus.”
“That doesn’t answer either of my questions completely.”
Schaub put his hands in the air. “Please, allow me to finish. The sergeant who we spoke with at Altus said he thought you might be heading in this direction. We passed out pictures to military outposts and border security teams to keep an eye out for you folks. We got a call from a militia commander two days ago saying that he’d recently deployed Foley Mitchem and knew where he’d been staying.”
Ulysses' eyes showed that he still didn’t totally trust the man. “If Blackwell wants a meeting, he can call us.”
The Secret Service agent frowned. “Very well.” He pulled a phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. “Mr. President, I’m afraid they need confirmation from you personally.” Seconds later, he said, “Yes, sir. I’ll put you on with Mrs. Ava Mitchem, now.” He paused. “Yes, sir, she’s recently been married.”
Ava took the phone. “Hello?”
CHAPTER 8
And David said unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and there came a lion, and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock: And I went out after him, and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote hi
m, and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of the living God. David said moreover, The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine. And Saul said unto David, Go, and the Lord be with thee.
1 Samuel 17:34-37
“Mrs. Mitchem, I was hoping to have a word with you. I wanted to personally thank you for your efforts in supporting the Alliance, but I also have a request which is . . . rather confidential in nature. Do you think I could have a few minutes of your time? I assure you I’ll get right to the point and won’t tie you up any longer than necessary.”
Blackwell had been Ava’s first choice in the Republican primaries. She held him in higher regard than any other politician because of his staunch position on freedom and many other issues she held dear. She recognized his voice, yet she was dumbfounded to actually be speaking with him on the phone. Her mouth hung open but made no sound.
“Mrs. Mitchem, are you there?” Blackwell asked.
“Um, yes, yes, I’m here. Of course, yes, sure. I’ll follow Agent Schaub.”
“Great, but Agent Schaub will give you a lift. They’re being a little persnickety about keeping my location under wraps, even amongst friends. Markovich would stop at nothing to find out where I’m at. I’m sure you understand.”
“Absolutely, Mr. President.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. “I’ll see you soon.” She hung up and immediately began rethinking her word choice. See you soon? That’s what I’d say to Charity. What a klutz! Ava handed the phone back to the agent. “Thanks.”
“Shall we proceed?” Colonel Barr held his hand out.
Ava looked at her father.
He asked, “What are we doing?”
“Going to meet the president, I guess.”
Ulysses said to Agent Schaub, “We’re both armed. I understand you people have protocols when it comes to the president. Is that going to be a problem?”
The agent began walking down the steps. “Normally, yes. But the acting president specifically requested that we not infringe upon your rights.”
“I’ll just let Charity know where we’re going. Or why we’re going, rather. I guess I can’t tell her where if I don’t know.” Ava turned to go back in.
Charity was waiting in her bedroom, still holding her rifle. “I heard the whole thing! Are you sure it’s Blackwell? Do you think it could be a trap? Like somebody impersonating his voice, a computer or something?”
“No. It’s him. I’m sure of it. I’ll see you when I see you,” Ava said.
“Be safe. I’ll let Buckley out after the vehicles leave the drive.”
“Thanks, bye.” Ava felt the excitement rising in her stomach over the opportunity to meet Blackwell.
They approached the first Humvee. Agent Schaub handed a black cloth head covering to Ava and Ulysses. “Sorry I have to ask this of you, but if you’ll put these on, it will be better for everyone. If you know where the acting president is staying, it could make you a target.”
Ava watched Ulysses get in the vehicle and put the bag over his head. She did the same.
Ava listened as the vehicle drove for about an hour with very little chit-chat between the driver, the colonel, Agent Schaub, and herself. Finally, they came to a stop.
Ava’s door was opened for her, then she heard Agent Schaub’s voice. “Please leave your coverings on until we’re inside.”
Someone, Agent Schaub she assumed, led her by the hand through a door.
“You can remove your covering,” said Schaub.
Ava pulled the sack off her head. She was inside the foyer of an old farmhouse. It must have been a brilliant spectacle in its day, but the antique dwelling had been neglected and never restored.
“Follow me, please.” Agent Schaub led Ava and Ulysses through a set of double doors to the formal parlor.
Inside were several men and women, most of whom were dressed like Agent Schaub. Ava’s eyes went straight to Blackwell standing nearby.
“Mrs. Mitchem, Mr. Adams, thank you for joining me.” Blackwell extended his hand and embraced Ava’s.
She felt like a school girl meeting her favorite movie star. “Please, call me Ava. It’s a pleasure and an honor to meet you, Mr. President.”
Ulysses also shook hands with the man. “Thank you for having us, Mr. President.”
“Please make yourselves comfortable.” Blackwell led them to the sitting area where they all took a seat.
Ava told herself the whole trip over that she wouldn’t mention it, but whether it was nerves or uncontrollable geekiness, the instant she sat down, she blurted out, “I voted for you in the primaries.”
Blackwell smiled. “I’ll confess. I may have trolled your old Facebook posts before I invited you. I saw what an avid supporter you were. Thank you.”
“Oh, I deleted my Facebook page.”
Blackwell smiled. “Facebook is sorta like Hotel California. You can check out but you can never leave.”
Ava curled her lip in disgust. “I wish someone would have made that creepy analogy to me before I signed up for it.”
“Don’t we all.” Blackwell chuckled but his smile faded quickly. “I wish the circumstances of the meeting were better.”
Ava sat forward on the couch and gave Blackwell her full attention.
“As you know, Markovich has taken Boise. In fact, his forces are currently holding the entire southwest corner of the state, all the way to Twin Falls. Boise is a big loss. It was very disruptive for us to pack up shop and relocate our administrative offices. But in the battle for confidence, it’s absolutely devastating.”
“You’ll retake the ground. You’ve got the troops and the equipment. Right?” Ava didn’t like the tone of defeat she was hearing in Blackwell’s voice.
He exhaled deeply before continuing. “We can and we will. But Markovich understands what this invasion has done to the spirit behind the Alliance States. For him, any sacrifice to keep us out of Boise is worth it. And if we announce another capital, say Helena or Bismarck, he’ll target that city as well.
“At some point, it’s a numbers game. Markovich has the population. He has masses of millennials who have been indoctrinated into a die-hard commitment to socialism through the public schools and colleges.”
“You mean communism,” Ulysses corrected the acting president.
Blackwell nodded. “Communism, but they’ve been taught that it’s socialism, so that’s what they think it is. It softened it up a little, kept their parents from doing anything radical like jerking them out of the public brainwashing camps and homeschooling them.”
“Right.” Ulysses nodded.
“In addition to the huge pool of potential soldiers, Markovich is demanding two years of military service when people graduate from level-two re-education camps. That’s how folks atone for their sins of dissent and prove they are good comrades, loyal to the regime.”
“I don’t understand why you’re sharing all of this with me. What could I possibly do?” Ava instantly regretted asking.
“I’m glad you asked, Ava.” Blackwell crossed his hands and looked her in the eye. “Rumor has it that you took it upon yourself to rip off the Social Justice Legion for a couple cases of explosives.”
“Is that so?”
He nodded. “Subsequently, similar types of explosives were used to take down firearm collection centers around your stomping grounds. As a matter of fact, the regime thinks C-4 was used in the NRG Stadium attack in Houston when Steve Woods was assassinated.”
“Wait a minute! Woods was knocked off by Markovich because he didn’t want to wait until January to ascend the throne,” Ava protested.
Blackwell nodded pensively. “So you have first-hand knowledge of the Houston attack.”
Ava shrugged her shoulders. “As you say—rumor has it.”
Blackwell grinned as if he were enjoying
her coyness. “Fair enough. But let’s assume for a moment you were somehow involved in such a string of events. Ripping off the SJL, perhaps we could write that off as luck or providence. But then, taking out all the major firearm collection points in Austin, and getting away with it—that took planning, skills, and determination.
“Now, to the grand finale, the assault at NRG—that took all of the above: providence, skill, planning, determination. But to hit a public gathering that you, or whoever, knew would be swarming with security and regime Secret Service, that took—guts.”
“Or stupidity.” Ava looked at her folded hands. “I’m afraid you’re inventing some superhero in your mind that doesn’t exist, Mr. President. One thing you left out in your list of attributes for this mysterious heroine is a team. And don’t assume because some of the people involved in those actions were never caught, that everyone escaped the wrath of Markovich. Some people paid the ultimate sacrifice for those actions.”
She looked at the floor, remembering Dr. and Mrs. Hodge, James, and how perilously close to death Foley had come. “At least that’s what I hear through the grapevine.”
“I wish I could offer my condolences to the friends and family of those brave souls.” Blackwell took a solemn tone.
Ava did not reply.
Blackwell paused a moment as if to let her remember her fallen friends before continuing. Then he said, “And what was this incident down at the Texas Oklahoma border? Some sort of prisoner exchange? I know without a doubt that you were involved in that one. Altus Air Force Base bailed you out. That’s how I found you.”
Ulysses interrupted, “Can you tell us what you’ve called us here for, Mr. President?”
“Okay.” Blackwell’s eyes shifted back and forth from Ava to Ulysses. “As I stated, this war is going to come down to a numbers game. And to put it quite simply, we don’t have the numbers. Maybe we can hold out for a year, maybe even two, but at some point, the Alliance will be defeated. Millions of patriots are going to fight and die, and we’re still going to lose. That’s the brutal facts.”