The White Warrior

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The White Warrior Page 9

by Marilyn Donnellan


  Brogan offered to help with dinner preparations, but Alice said dinner was catered so they sat down in the great room to chat. She asked about her parents, her school and about Book Liberators, which Bryan already told them about. Alice’s excellent listening skills made her easy to talk to and it wasn’t long before Brogan happily chatted about everything close to her heart, including Bryan.

  Spirited discussions continued over an excellent dinner of tapas and flat bread. Naturally, talk again turned to Book Liberators. Steve and Alice mentioned their efforts to establish BL cells and to move books to Bighorn Cavern and Sunray-sunset cave systems in Montana, Acoustic Cave and Cabin Creek Shelter Cave in Oregon and Carlsbad Cavern in New Mexico. They had not yet been able to hide books in Granite Mountain Records Vault in Salt Lake City. Bryan told them one of their council members was already there, ostensibly doing some research for a video but checking it out for book storage locations.

  The only sour note in the conversations occurred when Bryan made the mistake of mentioning the assassination attempt on Brogan’s life. Stunned, his parents understandably tried to talk them out of continuing their work with the protest movement.

  “The two of you have your whole lives ahead of you,” Stephen said, “Let us older folks pick up the rebel banner. You need to let it go, and let it go now, before either of you gets hurt.”

  Alice nodded her head in agreement, tears welling up in her eyes as she considered the dangers facing the young couple.

  Before Brogan said anything, Bryan spoke up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything about the assassination attempt. But I believed the two of you would understand how important this is. No one can stay out of the fight. It is a fight for everyone.”

  He reached over for Brogan’s hand, took a deep breath, and said quietly, “Mom, Dad, when Brogan and I bonded, we did so with mutual commitment to the BL mission. And there is nothing either of you can say to stop us from doing everything we can to protest what the empire is doing to destroy everyone’s freedoms. Destruction of books and banning of writing are just symptoms of the government’s attempt to control our lives. We are not asking for your permission.”

  There was a thick silence for a moment. Stephen cleared his throat, looked over at Alice who nodded, and he said, “Obviously, you have both thought a lot about this. You are right. You are adults. It is not our place to tell you what you can and cannot do. Although we do not like you putting yourselves in danger, we will respect your choice and do everything we can to support you.

  “I know you planned on only spending a couple of nights here before heading north to Salt Lake City, but is there any chance you can attend our local BL meeting tomorrow tonight? I know it will be a real encouragement if you spoke to them.”

  The couple agreed. The rest of the evening was spent poolside. It was a warm summer evening, perfect for relaxing under the stars with a glass of wine in hand, after some exercise. Brogan and Bryan tried to stay in good physical shape with daily runs or swims, plus karate practice. They brought swim suits and workout clothes with them. There had not been many opportunities for exercise since they left Austin City, so now they did some karate sparring while Alice and Stephen watched. Although Bryan, with his long arms and legs, was the better swimmer, Brogan was faster and better at karate and he had a hard time defending himself against her flurry of attacks.

  Because of the ban on books and writing, Brogan was frustrated she could not write in her journal every day as she had before the ban. It had become a habit for the couple to rehash their day, as though writing in a journal, before they went to sleep. They had a lot to talk about this evening. Her eidetic memory would ensure she would be able to someday record their conversations in a journal.

  After a great night’s sleep and a delicious breakfast cooked by Bryan and his father, Alice and Stephen drove them to Gypsum Cave, one of several locations where books were stored in California Province. Located only twelve miles from Las Vegas, the five-room cave was perfect for storing books. Dry desert air diminished chances of book decay. Because the desert was flat, it was easy to see if they were being followed as they traveled toward the cave in the Douglass’ large, solar-powered robo-car.

  The cave was relatively close to the city, so the BL cell decided to hide the main entrance by disguising it with a construction site. Since all property in the province was government owned, the Douglass’ had to procure a permit to build a restaurant and resort for tourists, renting land from the government. What the government did not know, the site was right over an underground cave. Most of the city’s planning records had been destroyed during the war so there was no public record of the cave’s existence.

  Cell members acted as a rather inept construction crew, dragging out construction time while they hid books under the site at night. Currently, four brick walls surrounded the cave site, along with scaffolding and mounds of bricks, and other construction material. Wooden trusses sat beside walls for an eventual roof. A restaurant and resort lobby were the first buildings being constructed over the cave’s entrance. Accommodations for tourists would be added after their completion.

  “Ingenious!” Bryan said as they toured the site. “No one will ever guess there are books hidden underneath.”

  Stephen showed them a cleverly disguised staircase below the floor of the eventual kitchen. A very heavy looking industrial stove sat to one side of the entrance. They made their way carefully down stairs. The first chamber was stacked with boxes of books on shelves. Stephen pushed a hidden release switch and a shelf moved to reveal another chamber, also stacked with books.

  They then went on a tour of Las Vegas, which included a look at ruins of edifices destroyed or seriously damaged by terrorist attacks: the miniature Eiffel Tower laying in a twisted mess, Luxor Pyramid hotel with one whole side nothing but rubble, remains of the famous Caesar’s Palace with its fake Roman columns and art crumbling to dust, and even the iconic Los Vegas sign laying on its back at the entrance of what used to be called the Strip.

  They returned home, and after a delicious lunch and another swim in the pool, Brogan and Bryan sat down with his parents to discuss more BL issues. Brogan wanted to know what the cell wanted to hear at tonight’s meeting. She listened closely, since she would be the one doing the talking. Although they did not bring their masks, afraid of a security check, Alice and Stephen had some extras. They decided to wear their generic black jumpsuits, as they were less apt to reveal where they came from.

  The afternoon passed quickly. Dinner was another delicious catered meal, with a Mexican theme. Tacos, tostados, queso, and salad, rounded out with the best flan Brogan said she had ever tasted.

  Just before 8 pm, the family placed their T-chips into the two dogs’ collars and walked down the darkened street to ruins of an old mission. Without speaking, they moved quietly into the mission, pulling on masks as they walked down worn steps into a large wine cellar where two dozen people already sat on benches. Stephen, who was evidently cell leader, stepped to the front and announced, “I am delighted to tell you, with us tonight are two of the original founders of the Book Liberators movement. I’ll call them Susan and Tom, since they must remain anonymous to protect their identity. They are here to talk to you tonight.”

  Brogan and Bryan were shocked when everyone stood to their feet and started clapping enthusiastically. Calls of “Welcome!” “Great job!” and “Thank you!” continued until Brogan stepped up and raised her hands calling for quiet.

  Bryan saw her clear her throat from emotion overwhelming her at the warm welcome from a group of complete strangers.

  “Thank you so much for making us feel so welcome. But you should receive the accolades. Each one of you is responsible for preserving the legacy of books, preserving our heritage for our children, protecting our freedoms, and protesting infringement on those freedoms by the corrupt empire. Book Liberators is not about two people who happened to show up to speak to your group, but about thousands of people
committed to the cause in the same way you are.”

  A sudden clanging of the old mission bell interrupted Brogan. Immediately everyone jumped to their feet and headed to the back of the room. They swept aside an ancient Navajo rug hanging on the wall and an entrance to a cave was revealed. Without a word, everyone ran into the tunnel, Stephen beckoning Brogan and Bryan to follow. As the last person entered, Stephen turned and sealed the large wooden door by lowering a heavy timber beam into a metal bracket across the entrance. Bryan helped.

  He turned toward Alice as he heard a gasp from her.

  She suddenly gripped her chest and fell to her knees, gasping for air. Stephen swept her into his arms and kept running, Bryan anxiously running by his side. Brogan behind him.

  “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  “Your mother was just recently diagnosed with a heart condition, son. Apparently, she left her nitroglycerin pills at home. We need to get her home quickly. She needs a heart transplant, but she has refused. They don’t tell you, but heart problems are one side effect of life-extending drugs.”

  The exit for the cave was just around a bend, near the old Las Vegas sign. BL members scattered, whipping off masks and slowly walking as though viewing the sites. It was an agonizing few blocks before the family made it close to home. Stephen started showing the physical strain of carrying Alice.

  “Dad let me carry Mom the rest of the way. You run ahead and call the emergency officials. You can recover T-chips on the dogs’ collars. Tell them her T-chip is not working right. We will make it home before they arrive and transfer our T-chips, too.”

  The family arrived home in time to make the T-chip switch just as emergency vehicles pulled up to the house. Alice had stopped breathing and Brogan started doing chest compression, something she learned in First Aid classes Allison taught all BL members. Bryan and Stephen hovered anxiously, feeling helpless. EMT’s took over and quickly transported Alice to Las Vegas hospital, Stephen in the robo-ambulance with her. Brogan and Bryan followed in the robo-car.

  The rest of the night the family paced the small room near the surgery unit, waiting for some word from the cardiologist who rushed Alice into surgery. Stephen paced non-stop, Bryan by his side, their faces drawn and pale as they worried and prayed. Brogan tried to get them to sit down or at least drink some coffee, but neither was interested.

  The hospital was small but seemed well equipped with modern robotic equipment and qualified personnel. Although they were alone in the tiny waiting area, hospital staff frequently bustled by. Each time they heard footsteps both men stopped their pacing and looked toward the door expectantly. It wasn’t until 4 am the surgeon finally appeared, lifting a sterile mask from his face, a grim look on his face.

  “Mr. Douglass?”

  Stephen stepped forward, his son by his side, Brogan a step behind.

  “How is she, doctor? Is she going to be alright?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we weren’t able to save her heart. Damage was too extensive from this last heart attack and we cannot repair it. She fought hard, but the heart just won’t work anymore. She is alive, but only because an artificial heart is beating for her outside her body.”

  At the doctor’s first words, Stephen collapsed into a nearby chair, thinking she was dead. But then it registered what the doctor said.

  “Are you telling me there is still a chance she will live?”

  “What I’m telling you, sir, is she needs a heart transplant immediately. We can either insert an artificial heart or wait for a match for a human transplant. Right now, she is on an external heart. If we implant an artificial heart, we do not know if she is strong enough to make it through another surgery, or if her body will reject it since she is so weak. Our auto-doc is still evaluating her other organs to see if she is strong enough to handle a transplant. If we decide on a transplant, we must send for one immediately from the organ bank in Salt Lake City. And, in the meantime, the rest of her organs will start shutting down. Or, you can authorize me to shut down the external heart and she will die naturally and peacefully. I’m going to give you and your family a few minutes to discuss it, but we need your answer very soon.”

  Bryan was on his knees in front of his father where he sat, tears streaming down his face as he read the anguish on his father’s face. What a decision to be forced to make. What would his mother want? Blindly he reached for Brogan’s hand. She knelt and put her arm around him. Although she had only known Alice a very short time, she had come to appreciate her warmth and caring. They looked up at the sound of footsteps entering the waiting area. The head nurse walked in.

  “She’s asking for all of you to come into ICU. We removed the ventilator, so she can talk to you,” the nurse said quietly.

  “You mean she is conscious?” Stephen asked.

  “Yes, but she is fading in and out from the medication and she keeps asking for you.”

  The three followed the nurse a short distance to an ICU unit where Alice lay with an array of machines around her, tubes everywhere, and the clicks and buzzes that went with them.

  Her eyes opened as the trio quietly came into the room. Stephen found a spot on her hand without tubes to touch and leaned over to kiss her forehead. She smiled weakly. She tried to speak but her voice was barely a whisper. Stephen leaned down to hear her. When he stood up, his eyes looked bleak.

  “Son, she wants to say something to you,” he said as he walked away from the bed to the side of the room.

  Bryan leaned down, trying desperately not to cry. She whispered a few words to him, smiled, gave a little sigh and died.

  The next few days moved in a blur for the family. Brogan and Bryan stayed in Las Vegas to help his dad with funeral arrangements.

  Brogan asked Bryan what his mother said to him before she died. He choked back tears. “She told me she loved me and to take care of you.”

  Although she knew how horrible she would feel if something happened to her mother, she told him how inadequate she felt trying to comfort him. She called her parents to let them know what happened. They asked her to convey their thoughts and prayers to Stephen.

  Stephen refused to talk about what his partner said on her deathbed. He had not cried or shown any emotion at the funeral. Brogan helped Bryan plan the funeral service and holo presentation to play quietly whenever anyone approached the plaque where her cremated remains were stored at the crypt.

  Stephen’s stoicism and silence became increasingly uncomfortable. Finally, a week after the funeral, Bryan walked into the study where his dad sat in his chair, staring at the wall.

  “Dad, we need to talk.”

  Stephen started as though awakened from a sleep and looked up at Bryan as if he did not know who he was. His clothes looked slept in, his hair uncombed and he’d lost weight. Bryan knew he wasn’t eating much either.

  “What do you want, son?” his dad asked wearily.

  “I know you are having a difficult time adjusting to Mom’s death, but I don’t think she would like to see you in such a state. Maybe you need to find someone to talk to.”

  Stephen suddenly stood up and pointed his finger at his son and started yelling, “You have no idea what I’m going through! Don’t you dare tell me what your mother would want! Get out of here or I’ll throw you out!”

  As he realized what he said, he sank to the floor, sobs wracking his body as he gathered his son into his arms and rocked him back and forth.

  “I’m so sorry, son. I didn’t mean it. Oh, forgive me. I just can’t live without your mother. What am I going to do?”

  Brogan ran into the room when she heard the yelling, but quietly backed out of the den, realizing this was between father and son. It might be the breakthrough Stephen needed.

  Bryan finally calmed his Dad down, but he now held him in his arms as Stephen sat on the floor, wracking sobs wrenching his body until he collapsed, emotionally exhausted and totally drained. Bryan leaned back and looked at his father.

  “Talk to me Dad. Tell me
what’s going on. This isn’t like you. What did Mom say to you to get you so upset?”

  “Help me up, son. It is time we talked. I need to tell you what your mother wanted me to do, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  Bryan helped his father on to the big leather sofa where they sat side by side. He kept his arm around his father’s shoulder. What was so terrible and had his father so upset?

  Stephen seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment, took a deep breath, and began to tell the story of getting in too deep with MC Hernandez when he was first appointed. Apparently, Hernandez had asked him to run a couple of errands for him. which he did not know until later were transporting of illegal drugs to drug dealers. Hernandez shot videos of him transporting the drugs, even though Stephen had no idea what was in the bags. Since then, Hernandez blackmailed him into doing other shady things for him. Hernandez paid him well, as evidenced by their beautiful home, but at the expense of his conscience.

  “The last thing your mother said to me was, ‘Honey, you must go to authorities and tell them what Hernandez is doing. Make it right. I love you’.”

  “Son, since she died I’ve been trying to figure out how to honor her wishes without telling you, but I just couldn’t. The whole situation is eating me up. Why did God take her from me?”

  Tears streamed down his face as he looked at his son, looking for any sign Bryan hated him for what he had done. Although Bryan was shocked at what he heard, he also knew his father. He understood how a scumbag like Hernandez could find a way to take advantage of a good man.

  “Dad, this does not change the way I feel about you. I love you. We’ll get through this together, okay?” He put his arm around his father and helped him to stand.

  “Now, before we figure out how to deal with it, let’s get you cleaned up and something to eat.”

  The men stood up, aware of a new depth in their relationship. Stephen looked at his son and gently touched his face.

 

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