by Akart, Bobby
Delta paused and responded, “Yeah, except Ethan doesn’t know what we know. He would’ve taken the direct route through the city, right into the heat of the frying pan. Besides, I’m not worried about any of that. I can handle myself.”
“Sooo?” Blair was growing impatient.
“Okay, Meredith and Donna both promised to watch over Sky for me and, without saying it, they are fully aware that something might happen that would prevent me from coming back. You know?”
“Yeah,” said Blair. “You’re chasing after a runaway teen and leaving a loving, vulnerable daughter behind.”
“I know, Blair. That’s not lost on me. But am I a piece-of-crap father for not trying?”
“Delta, who cares what others think about you?” Blair was blunt in her response. “I know you’ve talked to a lot of the others to get opinions and advice. Here’s mine. Stay put. Take care of that beautiful little girl. Ethan’s fifteen going on thirty, from what I can see. He seems street smart. Just because he’s not eighteen, or technically not an adult, doesn’t mean he can’t fend for himself.”
Ryan glanced over at Delta. “Man, I’ve got to agree. Either trust that Ethan makes it home or he comes to his senses and returns to the Haven. You should be here, either way.”
Ryan wheeled the Ranger into the parking area in front of Delta’s cabin. Skylar came out the front door, waving to them with a big smile on her face. She was holding up the painting that Blair had commissioned her to create.
Blair was the first to exit the Ranger and approach Skylar, who proudly presented the painting of their cabin to Blair.
“Miss Blair, it’s perfect timing. I just finished it for you. Whadya think?”
Blair accepted the watercolor painting from the young artist and a slight tear came to her eye. She studied it for a moment, dropped to one knee and gave Skylar a big hug.
She whispered into the child’s ear, “I absolutely love it, Sky. Thank you so much for making it. Would you like to come up to the house and help me pick out the perfect frame, and then we can find a place to hang it?”
“That would be awesome,” responded Skylar. “And while we’re there, we can talk about any other paintings that you’d like commissioned. I’m getting better at this. Practice makes perfect, right?”
“It sure does. Now, go get your coat on and we’ll ride up together, okay?”
“Deal!” shouted Skylar as she bolted back into the cabin.
Blair turned around to Ryan and Delta, who were standing in front of the idling Ranger. Her demeanor immediately changed as she walked straight up to Delta and looked into his eyes.
“If you abandon that sweet girl to chase after a kid who’s nothing but trouble,” she snarled, “you’d better not come back, or I’ll shoot you myself. C’mon, Ryan. Delta has work to do.”
Chapter Six
Haven House
The Haven
Tom and Cort were pacing on the front porch of Haven House when the Smarts, with Skylar in tow, arrived. Blair hustled Skylar inside for a mug of hot chocolate while Ryan escorted the guys into his study. The guys worked together to build a fire and then got settled into the distressed leather chairs to talk.
“Okay, guys, there’s a whole lot more to this Minutemen, patriotic rigmarole than meets the eye. I need some straight shootin’ here. Did we attack ourselves?”
Both Tom and Cort began speaking at the same time.
“Here’s the thing—” started Cort.
“It may take some—” began Tom.
They both stopped and gestured to one another to go first. Ryan made the decision for them.
“Listen, it’s just us now. If either one of you are gonna equivocate and blow smoke, then I don’t wanna hear it. I can do plenty of that on my own.”
Cort laughed. “You sound like Senator McNeill. He was never interested in long stories with no ending.”
“Neither am I, ’cause we don’t have time. From what I’ve seen on the news, unrest is spreading outside the big cities into midsized towns as well. Richmond and Charlotte are just examples based upon our personal experiences. Before the meeting, there was a report out of Florida that there was a shoot-out between militia types and a bunch of college kids in Gainesville, for Pete’s sake. Nearby Durham had a similar incident near Duke.”
“I think we saw that developing,” added Tom.
“Here’s my point, y’all,” continued Ryan. “I love our location and the security we have in place. But if half a million people race out of Charlotte and head for the hills, as they say, although in this case, it would be the Smokies, we’re gonna have our hands full.”
“We can all speak frankly, right?” asked Tom.
“Absolutely,” replied Ryan. “What’s on your mind, Tom?”
“If, and this is a huge if, our government, or those who pull the strings of government, orchestrated this attack, it’s possible that—” Tom caught himself and abruptly stopped as if he didn’t want to say the words aloud.
Cort, however, didn’t hesitate. “What Tom’s trying to say is that if we were behind it, based upon the targets and methods, it’s quite possible that the president will order our National Guard to stand down and let the fire burn itself out.”
“Chicago, Detroit, LA, Seattle,” Tom began before he took a deep breath. “They’d be on their own without government intervention.”
“They’ll kill one another in the streets,” added Ryan.
“Exactly,” said Cort under his breath. “It’s tantamount to ethnic cleansing.”
“Or a reset,” said Tom. “Listen, I’ve worked around these people for a long time. Patriotism is just another way of saying we want things the way they used to be. You know, when America worshiped the flag and was proud of its leaders. A time when the nation was not self-absorbed or hung up on political correctness and social justice.”
“They want us to tear each other apart, but not just on social media,” added Cort. “They want us to fight it out and let the best side win. And, I suspect, if the other side begins to gain the advantage, you can rest assured another attack of some kind will occur to even the playing field.”
“Are you guys both saying that we can expect lawlessness? Intentionally?” asked Ryan.
Cort and Tom looked at one another and nodded their heads in unison. The room remained silent for a moment before Cort spoke up.
“Here’s what I envision happening, and most likely the media will scream bloody murder.”
“What?” asked Ryan.
“I understand Washington and I also know this president. He’s very streetwise and he knows how to play the game now. I see him marshaling his assets by using traditional methods of helping those in need through the Red Cross and FEMA.”
“But it’s too dangerous in the streets,” interrupted Ryan.
Tom smiled and looked over at Cort. “I see where you’re headed. Ryan is correct. It’s too dangerous to send FEMA and the Red Cross out there alone. They’ll need protection. The president will say something to the effect that if we focus on keeping the peace, we won’t have the resources to help the needy.”
“They, whoever they are, want a second civil war,” surmised Ryan with a sigh. “Listen, don’t get me wrong, there’s no love lost between me and the radical leftists who’ve tried to take over this country. But don’t you think wiping out innocent Americans in an effort to create some kind of reset, as Tom called it, is a little much?”
Cort smiled. “A revolution is a struggle to the death between the future and the past. Conservatives, by their nature, try to hold on to America as it was envisioned by the Founding Fathers. Liberals, or Progressives, as they like to call themselves now, see our nation as evolving from the eighteenth century, and our political institutions need to keep up with this natural evolution of society.”
“Peaceful revolution doesn’t work,” added Tom. “Most times, to create drastic change within a society or government structure, you necessarily require armed co
nflict. Consider the Civil War. Slavery was entrenched in the South and many other states across the Sunbelt. Those in Washington tried, through legislation, to halt the practice, and they were met with strong resistance.”
“If you oppose peaceful change, then you’re necessarily making violent revolution inevitable,” interjected Ryan.
“Yessir,” said Tom as he leaned back in his chair. “Somebody way above our pay grades decided that the time was right for both sides to duke it out for the heart and soul of our country. The question becomes whether we can sit it out on the sidelines.”
Ryan stood and walked toward the windows of his study that looked out onto the front lawn. Blair and Skylar were walking through the yard together. Every few feet, Blair would stop and point something out to Skylar, who’d make notes on a pad she toted under her arm. Ryan sighed and turned to his top lieutenants.
“Call me selfish, but we have a duty and obligation to the ones we love right here at the Haven. I’m not interested in relitigating the past or doing the dirty work of others by getting involved in a second civil war. Make no mistake, however, if their war comes to our doorstep, then they’ll get their fight.”
Chapter Seven
Haven House
The Haven
“All right, boys, what did I miss?” Blair announced her late arrival to the meeting with a question. She had given Skylar another project to work on, and the child immediately got to work. Blair saw it as a way to keep Skylar focused on something other than the drama surrounding her brother.
“Well, the country’s going to hell in a handbasket,” replied Ryan.
“I knew that before New Year’s Eve,” said Blair with a chuckle as she backed up to the fire to warm her body. “Anybody have an opinion as to why? I mean, all of a sudden, somebody fired the first shot, am I right?”
Ryan laughed and looked at the guys. “She’s wise beyond her years. No amount of college degrees or residing in the Washington swamp can substitute for good old-fashioned intuition. Right?”
“I agree,” said Tom, who then turned his attention to Blair. “Our consensus is that a second civil war is coming, and the people who pulled the trigger, as you say, are powerful and have access to all the toys in our military’s arsenal. The guys on the other side, the usual suspects, are more adept at a ground war, speaking, of course, in military parlance.”
“Gentlemen, the second civil war is already upon us and it’s been raging for some time,” said Blair. “Ask the families of fallen police officers or those who’ve lost loved ones to MS-13 gang members. Or the wife of Steve Scalise, the congressman who was nearly assassinated while playing softball. The way I see it, the second civil war has already begun, only the guns are now bigger and badder.”
Ryan joined his wife’s side and put his arm around her shoulder to help her warm up. “The question we were about to address is how this affects us.”
“Well, I can tell you this from news reports this morning that cities are burning and neighborhoods are being destroyed. Innocent bystanders are getting caught up in the fight between the thugs who are coming from all around and the armed militia that have always vowed to take up arms in the event of societal breakdown. I’m hearing the media use words like lawlessness, collapse, and yes, civil war. The pundits are no longer looking for a bogeyman from abroad. They’re starting to point fingers of blame within our borders.”
“At who?” asked Tom.
Blair chuckled. “My goodness, Tom, who else? The Commander-in-Chief. The wild accusations are everywhere. Not only has he committed these heinous acts in order to save his hide in front of the Supreme Court, but he’s delaying sending in the military to save the cities. They’re calling it a form of ethnic cleansing.”
“Told ya,” said Cort, looking at Tom. “You have to wonder whether the people who instigated these attacks knew the suspicion would naturally be cast upon the president. Hayden said as much when she and I talked briefly this morning. Her firm acknowledged that the president stands to gain politically by what happened New Year’s Eve.”
“Now he has a crisis to deal with, and the media is hammering him over it,” interjected Blair.
“True, but as president, he can come to the rescue,” said Tom.
“Or let it play out,” Cort quickly added. “Think of it this way. If he was aware, or even if he has conducted the same analysis as we have, delay in restoring order benefits him. He can walk the fine line between helping those in need and bringing order to the streets until the balance is tipped in his favor.”
“Listen to what you’re saying, Cort,” began Ryan. “Innocent people are getting slaughtered in order to gain a political advantage, am I right?”
“Yes,” replied Cort dryly. “It’s no different than the first Civil War. Consider this. When General Sherman began his march through the South from Atlanta to Savannah in late 1864, the Civil War was over for all practical purposes. Lincoln didn’t stop his advance or try to rein him in. He allowed Sherman to deliver a message to the Southerners who still wanted to hold onto the old ways. Don’t doubt me on this, Sherman wanted to wipe out the Southern way of life and kill as many Confederate sympathizers as he could in the process.”
“And you think that’s what might be happening here?” asked Blair.
“I do,” replied Cort.
“Bottom line it for me,” said Blair. “How does it affect the way we protect ourselves?”
Ryan took that question on. “It’s all about security. We have enough supplies to weather the storm. We just need to stay abreast of the news and especially what’s happening outside our walls. If we’re about to be overrun by scared citizens, or mobs laying waste to the farms around us, we need to be forewarned that they’re coming our way.”
Blair sat in Ryan’s chair and brought up X-Ray. “Well, our newest member of the team was supposed to keep tabs on all of this type of stuff. Have you guys received any reports from X-Ray as to whether we’re threatened by a mass exodus or refugees out of Charlotte, for example?”
“No, not yet, but I haven’t asked for that either,” replied Ryan. “We’re still trying to get a handle on all of this as we speak.”
“Has he provided you any intel, using Tom-speak, about what’s going on around the country?”
“No, not yet,” replied Ryan. “I know you’re wary of X-Ray, and I’m keeping an eye on him as well. He has the ability to monitor military and governmental communications that will give us a heads-up on anything that directly impacts the Haven.”
“That’s great, and I’m anxious to see his work product,” began Blair. She was operating the Haven like a business. “There’s another thing I want to address about him. Did anyone else notice how he was acting during the morning meeting?”
“What do you mean?” asked Ryan.
“He was fidgety and unsocial,” she replied. “I didn’t see him make an effort to interact with anybody.”
“Well, I can say this from my brief encounters with him around the Haven so far,” started Cort. “It may just be his way. He’s kind of an introverted geek.”
“So, does that explain why he disappeared in the middle of the meeting this morning, just as you began your discussion about the text messages, the attacks and who was behind them?”
None of the guys had an answer for that, so they remained silent.
After a moment, Blair said what was on her mind. She swiveled in Ryan’s chair so she could look directly at Cort. “It’s time for some brutal honesty here, Cort.” Blair’s piercing eyes lowered as she studied him. She casually pointed as she spoke. “You have a close relationship with Meredith’s father, George Trowbridge. As do you, Tom. Now, I’m assuming, correctly I believe, that you two have never met before coming to the Haven, yet there’s this connection. A connection to a very powerful mover and shaker in Washington. One who most likely has the ear of the president, as well as his political opponents.”
“Where are you headed with this, Blair?” asked
Cort, who was uneasy with her challenging tone.
“All of the attacks of New Year’s Eve have a certain common thread, as you pointed out earlier—political demographics. But what does the attack on your flight have to do with the rest of it? Coincidence? No way.”
Cort answered quickly. “Based upon our theory that the folks who pulled off these attacks is a friend of the president, I believe the target was the man who was charged with taking him down through the impeachment process—Congressman Pratt.”
“I have another theory and, Cort, you’re a smart guy, so I’m sure this has crossed your mind,” continued Blair. “Who else on that plane might be a possible target for a complex, highly unusual assassination attempt?”
Everyone’s focus was on Cort when Ryan’s phone rang, interrupting the tense moment.
Chapter Eight
Near Cofer Road
South Richmond, Virginia
Ethan Hightower’s head was pounding. He couldn’t breathe and was having difficulty opening his eyes. But despite the beatdown he’d received outside the gas station in South Richmond, he was alive, and somehow, he was not lying in the cold against the green dumpster where he’d landed when the thugs were done with him.
As he became more conscious, he struggled to catch his breath, causing him to begin a fit of coughing and choking on his own saliva. He reached for his throat only to moan in pain as his badly bruised arm betrayed him.
“Momma! Na-na Jean! He’s awake!” A young girl’s voice pounded in his concussed brain, but he didn’t mind. It was a sign that he was alive and being cared for.
“Stand aside, Celeste,” an elderly woman said. “Let me have a look.”
Another voice addressed Ethan. “Young man, don’t try to talk or move. You’re in pretty rough shape, and we don’t rightly know how bad it is for you on the inside.”