Homeland Security

by William L Casselman

  “Look, Seattle is playing Thursday night. Maybe you can come on over and watch the game with Dad and I. Mom hates it, so she usually goes out shopping or visits a friend at one of the senior centers. She and her friends used to schedule cards for football night, but too many of the regular players moved away, and the card games stopped. But, Dad and I go all out with popcorn, pop, and some deep-fried wings. Maybe he’ll barbecue something if you’ll be there. What do you say?”

  “Do you think it will go better than last time?”

  “We made up, didn’t we? Emy asked. “Dad and I have buried the hatchet, and even Mom lets him sleep in their room again. So, come on over and show my parents everything is okay between us. Besides…I’d like you to be there.”

  “Before we leave this joint, I wanted to ask you something,” Clay said in a low tone. “The Colonel…my boss arranged all this and don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he did, but are you part of this Militia…this Alaska Defense Force?”

  “Yes, Captain, I am. I was already called and was told you signed up for the Militia, and I was overjoyed to hear it. Now I’ll have to address you by your rank when we're out in the field or training class, but I don’t mind. I retained my NCO status, but I am hoping to eventually work my way up to 2nd lieutenant someday, but I’m in no hurry for the moment. For now, though, I’m with A Company and leading a squad of pampered overweight weekend warriors.”

  “You’ll find I’m a pretty tough training officer, Sergeant. So stay sharp.”

  “It’s a good thing the Militia doesn’t have any regulations about enlisted and officers being…sort of involved.” Emy tossed her napkins down, stood up, and waited for Clay.

  “They call it fraternizing, Sergeant and I agree with you.” Clay then looked down at the barbecue sauce splotches on his shirt. “I need to make a stop and wash-up. You can watch some more football, and I’ll see you in a moment.” Clay first stopped at the register to pay the bill and then walked into the restroom to wash the sauce off his face and inspect his clothes for droplets. He grinned when he looked down and saw a droplet of Gold Rush Sauce on his shoe. “I’m a real pig.”

  Washing up, Clay looked in the mirror and thought about what was happening; I really hate doing this… I feel like a big-time chump. Yet, I care about this girl, I may be falling for her, and on the downside, she could very well turn out to be a traitor or even a terrorist. I can’t believe this. I’d rather be in a firefight with a mob of fanatical Muslims than hurt her…or her dad.

  It was Emy’s suggestion to follow Clay back to his apartment, and she was really surprised, almost shocked when he declined her offer. She was actually offended but gave him a chance to explain himself, before breaking both of his knee caps. “Listen, Emy, let’s not rush this thing between us. We’re both adults, sure, but we’ve also been through a lot, and I’d rather enjoy this gradually…letting it blossom slowly. This is really different for me, and I want…If it’s real, then we’ll make a connection that will last forever. Does this make any sense to you? I don’t need an overnighter, which could ruin our friendship. Can you understand that? You mean more to me than a roll in the hay.”

  “A roll in the hay...?” Emy said. “I haven’t heard that said in a long time.” She looked hard at him for a moment and then asked, “Clay, are you a Christian?”

  Oh boy! How do I answer that? I’ve never been asked that while working undercover, except by those missionaries in Egypt. Why would she ask this now, just because I don’t want to go to bed with her? He gambled and went with the truth. “Yes, Emy, I’m a Christian, though I’ve had a hard time walking the walk and talking the talk as a soldier. I gave my life to the Lord while attending college at UAF.”

  “I suspected as much,” Emy said. “You’re always so nice, respectful and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you take God’s name in vain…and not trying to be vain, I know I’m a good looking babe and I’m stunned by your refusal to have…what was it?...’A roll in the hay with me’… But, it explains a lot, and I can respect it.”

  “What about you, Emy?” They were leaning against Clay’s loaner in Jaybird’s parking lot, under the glow of a parking lot light. The air had turned cold, and the temperature was now around the freezing mark. Clay had a windbreaker on and had retrieved a jacket for Emy from her car.

  “I’m pretty much a nothing, Clay. Oh, I went to Sunday school as a kid and Vacation Bible School, but once I became a teenager, I was more interested in cars, sports, and my hobbies. I worked with my dad when I wasn’t in the books, so I never had time for church. Mom attended, but I don’t remember where. She tried to get me to come, but then gave up.”

  “What about in the military?”

  Emy hesitated and then replied, “Saw too much I guess and the Base Chapel services were so…mellow-like. I had trouble believing in a god who would allow all this death and destruction and all the hatred. I just couldn’t accept it. Nope. But, I can accept your desire or need to…and I’ll wait for you. Remember, you’re my knight, and I hope to be your princess.” She punched him lightly in the stomach and said, “Got it, buster!?”

  “You have a delicate way about expressing yourself, Sergeant Sanders.”

  “So, will I see you early Thursday evening at 4 p.m. for the game?”

  “Probably closer to 6, and only then if the boss lets me off. Weeknights are not the easiest nights to get off early. Our workload is picking up with the roads becoming icy. Snow is around the corner, and I’m thinking 12-hour shifts for the winter…lots of overtime.”

  “You want me to give him a call, see if you can be excused for the game?”

  “No, Sergeant, I can handle this matter myself and remember, we have training on Saturday morning at 7 a.m. I’ll give you a call Friday night, and maybe you can pick me up, and we can go out for donuts and coffee on the way out.”

  “What is it with you and donuts? If I didn’t know you better, I’d suspect you were a cop.”

  Clay could imagine his heart missing a beat, and then he replied, “The Lord’s food for soldiers, cops, street cleaners, and wayward sailors.”

  “You’re crazy!” Emy exclaimed and turned to head for her car. She then looked over her shoulder and said, “Drive home safely, Captain. I have plans for you, and they do not involve you putting your car around a light pole.”

  “The Colonel wants me to buy a new car, so you’ll probably have to help me pick one out. I hate to break it to him, but I’ve grown up a Ford man. But having a Ford on his lot would be a sacrilege and someone, probably one of the dealers would set fire to it.”

  “You’re right, don’t say a word. We’ll look at his lot and find a nice family vehicle, room for lots of kids. She had a big smile on her face, then moved up and kissed him on the lips. Though it began lightly, it quickly turned into a patient exchange. “That was nice,” she said and then turned away, and made a dash off to her vehicle. Clay was left standing there with that awkward mouth open look on his face and his arms slightly extended from just holding her. Then he thought, Kids!? We’ve just had our first real kiss. Could she be feeling the same flutter I’ve got in my chest right now? We’ve only had our first date…sort of. Yet, when I look at her, I’m ready to just sink into those eyes of her. Oh man, I’m in real trouble here.

  Driving back to his apartment, Clay kept wondering, I’ve known this girl such a short time…we’ve seen each other only a few times and let’s not forget she upchucked on the back seat of my cab after flipping me off. Now I’m her knight in shining armor- again, and she’s talking about kids! Oh, I know she was joking…Yet, strangely enough, it doesn’t feel all that weird after talking it out in my head. She’s beautiful beyond comparison, loves to work on cars or anything needing tools, loves guns, she’s a decorated veteran with wonderful parents…Her dad has the most beautiful Camaro I’ve ever seen…Hold it, kid, you’re really blowing it here, Clay. You’ve got to keep that Camaro out of her good points pile, not fair to you or her, and it’s because
the old man will never give it away. When he goes to prison, he’ll leave it with his wife.

  Clay pulled out his semi-clean handkerchief and wiped his face. Think rationally, boy. You cannot be already falling in love with her, you’ve never believed in love at first sight, and you’ve counseled a lot of young troops to stop doing what you’re doing right now. Get your head working and not your carnal desires… and yet, I know it’s happening, but I can’t believe it’s happening to me. If I don’t get control of this, I’m looking at a lot of hurt. Chances of us having a real love-thing, possibly a marriage and even a squad of beautiful children… it’s ridiculous! But, I bet her parents would be wonderful grandparents… even when I visit them in prison! Clay pushed down on the accelerator, and his speed increased to 65 mph, which was pushing it for this 6-cylinder loaner with nearly 200,000 miles on the odometer. I really need a drink…and it’s the one thing I’ve got to avoid. Being a loose cannon, an intoxicated loose cannon is a sure-fire way for me to end up dead…a body floating down the Chena River.

  By the time he got to his apartment, Clay was really stressed out. He stripped off his clothes, threw them into the corner by his full dirty clothes hamper, and climbed into the shower. The hot water made his scars stand out, but the heat relieved some of the stress. With eyes closed, he stood under the nozzle and allowed the hot water cascade down his neck and back. Slowly, he began to relax, and only then did he began to shampoo his hair. Later, once he was dried off, he set his alarm and was asleep within a moment of hitting his pillow. Thankfully, he didn’t have any nightmares tonight, but he did see a pack of small unidentifiable dark-haired children running across someone’s lawn, and when he awakened to the alarm, he knew where the suggestion for that dream had come from. He recalled how Grandpa had said his Germanic side reportedly supported a lot of dark-haired relatives and ancestors, but one of the little girls in his dream was a red-head. His own father was born a dark blonde, but by the time he was 10-years old, he had transformed to a light brown haired young man. This made him wonder, with his own hair following the traits of his mother’s family, how would it mix with Emy’s red hair if and when the two of them had children? Oh, man…I’ve got to quit thinking about this.

  Getting dressed, Clay shook his head, having a hard time believing he was even beginning his morning with such crazy thoughts, knowing that on any operation, even one like this, he could end up very dead if he fouled up and didn’t keep his head in the game. Besides that, he knew the reality of this could also endanger Emy. If they somehow figured out who I actually was, they could very easily believe Emy was now playing a mole for the government. That I had turned her with my spy skills. So, can I keep this platonic, stop everything cold? But, would that then cause Silas to suspect… Maybe, he’d think I wore soft shoes, that I was gay? Oh, I’ve really got myself into a mess. He’d probably toss me out on my ear, and I would’ve fouled up the whole job.

  Thursday night was a scrub. Clay didn’t get off work until 10:40 p.m. and only had time to call Emy before going to sleep. She was, of course, disappointed, and he was beat, plus the Seahawks lost to make matters worse. Friday, he had his upcoming meeting with Doc Adams and spent several minutes in the room alone, going over everything in his head before their session began. He didn’t want to waste the Doctor’s time and was relieved when he could recall nearly everything that had happened since the last appointment. Doc Adams was surprised by how fast the Militia was moving on Clay, but at the same time hoping this meant something was either happening or they could wind this case up before Christmas as a No Threat. Doc hoped to put in his retirement papers but didn’t want to abandon Clay until this operation was over. A new man could upset everything and blow the operation and even endanger Clay. No, he would hang on and hope for the best. He also had his other patients that might feel abandoned if he just up and pulled the pin on them. But, Doc knew that time was rapidly approaching. By the time he was getting home at night, the exhaustion he felt was getting hard to handle, and his sleep was restless. All signs that he needed to take some time off and head for sunny Florida.

  The session lasted longer than an hour, with the digital recorder running all the time and Doc Adams making several pages of his hand-scrawled notes. Then he surprised Clay when he turned off the recorder and asked him about Emy, “I’ve decided to keep her relationship with you as private as possible, something between us. I will keep it in my notes, but only my impressions of your mental and physical health brought about by this relationship. In the event, I hope to write a book. Of course, I’d never use your real names, dates, or locations.”

  Without the monitor running, recording his every word, Clay began to relax some as he began describing what had happened at the eatery in North Pole, afterward and the suggestion of an overnighter in their future. How he refused taking her up on it that night, which had surprised her and then her questions about his faith. He had been honest with her, to some allowable degree, which had surprised him. He even told Doc of how she had shocked him with the brief mention of children.

  Doc grinned as he made a few notes. He was actually somewhat surprised by Clay’s refusal for a lovemaking session. Mainly because he couldn’t think of too many men he knew who had the strength of will to turn down such an offer. “Clay, you may not wish to hear this, but I believe you’re in love with this lady. It shows all over you, and I believe this can compromise your assignment. Do you agree?”

  “It could if I allowed it to. But, I am more interested in finding a way to get her out of it, if indeed she is involved in a terrorist plot. This Militia itself is lawful and not a problem, but I feel there is something lurking underneath it and Emy is a part of it. I’d like to go deeper, become a part of it, and find a way to pull her out before we bust them. If I can take her out of it, maybe…”

  “Clay, you have one chance in ten of accomplishing that goal. But, you are in deep, and it would be nearly impossible for us to get anyone else in this deep in time to stop whatever it is they have planned. The thing you have to do is focus. If you love her and want to save her, you’ve got to do your job. Or you’ll be sending her postcards in a Federal Facility somewhere, and you could be looking at a Bad Conduct Discharge. Plus, I’m risking your life by leaving you in place, do you realize this. Still, a lot of lives could be at stake here. I’ll have to let your superiors know all this and let them make the decision. But, being a mission-minded group, they’ll decide it is worth one life to save many.”

  “Doc, I knew all this going in. I lost two of my men in our last operation…they were ‘expendable,’ and they knew this when they volunteered. I’m also expendable, Doc….especially if my job can save lives. Oh, I still don’t know what this militia has planned, but it is something big and its very important to them…something surrounding the 1959 statehood vote.

  “Will, my advice is to move slow with Emy, especially concerning pressing what she might know concerning future actions by the militia. If she tells you anything, then she’s volunteered it, and you might not have to feel so bad concerning future events. I doubt it though. But, Clay, you’re an experienced operative. You know what you have to do, but my concern is also what happens to you once this operation is over. I seriously believe you are going to need at least a month of leave time, outside this state, to handle the after-effects of this Op. Unless events transpire that prevents Emy and her father from serving any jail time, I believe this could be your last undercover detail for a very long time. I’ll be recommending you need to return back to regular Special Force assignments. Where you can be a Captain again.”

  Clay got off work Friday night at 8 p.m., and though he was invited out by several people to share in a beer, he declined graciously and drove home. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day, and he wanted to be at his best in meeting these people. According to the Colonel, nearly half of the Fairbanks Militia Unit would be out for this Training Day. A lot of them wanted to meet their new training officer, including the unit’s
top non-commissioned officers. Instead of waiting for Emy to call, he telephoned her at her home, chatted with her mother for a moment and then spent the next hour on the phone with her. Oddly enough, Clay couldn’t recall the last time he’d spent longer than ten minutes on the phone with a girl, without becoming bored to tears and making up some excuse to hang-up. They agreed for her to pick him up after she stopped for coffee and donuts. They had a 22-mile drive, so she thought he could probably consume 3 or 4 cake donuts by the time they reached their destination. She had learned his favorite to be a white cake donut, with white icing and covered over in chocolate sprinkles, and one of the local bakeries usually had a dozen on display early in the morning.

  “You know, Clay, eventually, you’re going to have to start some kind of exercise program… either with the Fairbanks Athletic Club or one of the others. But I will not be dating a tubby!”

  “A tubby,” Clay replied. “I’m far from being a tubby, but I do admit I am in need of some exercise. I used to jog quite a bit and hit the free weights two the three times a week. I also enjoy swimming, so I joined the Fairbanks Athletic Club. They have a great winter program, a pretty nice Olympic-sized indoor pool and an indoor track.”

  “Yeah, I used to be a member before I left for the military,” Emy said.

  “So, Sergeant, how come we have to come out by Eielson for our training classes? I would’ve thought we could’ve gone out behind Fort Wainwright.” Clay pulled a iced donut ring out of his white bakery bag and took a nice bite out of it and then remembered to wipe his mouth with a paper napkin.

  “Across from Eielson is this massive piece of land owned by the state and federal government. There are a few homesteads on it, and recently, there have been some land sales by the state. But, there is enough land still out there to hide Los Angeles in. About like the land distance between Fairbanks and Minto, say 90-miles, and just as flat and most likely the same amount of waterways. We have our pistol, rifle and machinegun weapons courses out there, along with compass courses and other spots for field training exercises. Occasionally we operate with one of the National Guard units, and we’ve even conducted emergency exercises with the Royal Rangers from the Assembly of God Church and the Boy Scouts of America. A lot of our people will got out there to hunt for spring bear and the occasional moose, but I think its been pretty well hunted out for moose.”