United We Stand_A Post-Apocalyptic Novel of America's Coming Civil War

by Mark Goodwin

  “I will, but you’re limited on what you can do if I get in trouble. We couldn’t bring guns on this trip.”

  “If you don’t call in, I’ll get a gun.”

  “Where?”

  “I’ll take it from one of those SJL punks at the checkpoint.”

  “I’m just going to fill out a job application.” Ava grimaced. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to get ready.” She got up from the bed and went to the bathroom for a quick shower.

  Two hours later, the Uber dropped her off at the catering company which, according to the message in her surreptitious dead-drop email, was to be the food provider at the upcoming affair. Ava pulled down her too-short skirt and checked her lipstick before entering the office.

  Her heels clacked on the bare concrete floors of the catering company. “Hi, I’m here about a job.”

  The girl behind the desk looked her over with a snarl. “We’re not hiring right now.”

  “Are you sure? Even part-time?”

  The girl didn’t look up but simply shook her head.

  “Can I speak to your manager?”

  The girl pressed a button on her desk phone.

  “Yes?” came a woman’s voice over the speakerphone.

  “Some girl is looking for a job. I told her we’re not hiring.”

  “Give her an application. Tell her we’ll call if we have any openings.” The woman hung up.

  The receptionist held up a piece of paper for Ava.

  As bad as she wanted to tell the girl where to stick the form, Ava forced a smile and sat down to fill out the application. She placed it on the receptionist’s desk and said, “Thank you.”

  The girl behind the desk did not reply. Ava walked out and requested another Uber.

  The car arrived a few minutes later. Ava got in.

  “Ma’am, you know Lure is not open at this time?”

  “That’s fine. I’m trying to get a job.” She looked down at her phone to try to avoid further conversation with the driver as he drove across town to Sunset Boulevard.

  Thirty minutes later, they arrived. “This is the club, ma’am.”

  She looked at a double-wide wooden door on a wall covered with ivy. “I don’t see any signs. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How do I get in?”

  The driver looked at the rearview mirror. “I don’t know. Maybe they have an entrance for deliveries in the back.”

  “Can you drive around to see?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The driver took her around the block. A steel roll-up door was half open.

  “Thanks!” She exited the vehicle and proceeded through the warehouse-style entrance. No one was around so she meandered through the club looking for a manager.

  “Hi, can I help you?” A girl’s voice came from behind.

  Ava spun around. “Oh yeah, hey! I was wondering if you might be hiring?”

  “What position?” the young slender girl asked.

  “Cocktail waitress?”

  “Probably not. Have you ever tended bar?”

  “No,” Ava replied.

  “Sorry. Maybe try back another time.” The girl offered a pleasant smile.

  “Thank you. Could I fill out an application for you to keep on file—just in case something opens up?”

  “Um, yeah, I guess that would be okay. You can have a seat at the bar. I’ll be right back.”

  “Thanks.” Ava had no intention of sitting at the bar. If this was to be her only opportunity to reconnoiter the premises she’d make the most of it. She walked around from the outside patio through the various spaces in the club. She made a mental note of all the exits, bars, and bathrooms.

  A tall man in his late forties with a beard, short hair, and large-rimmed dark sunglasses walked in from outside. He wore dark jeans, a white shirt, and a dark vest. “Is someone helping you?” His accent was distinctly British.

  “Yes, the young blonde girl from the office, she’s getting me an application. Are you the manager?”

  “I’m Roman, the owner.” He looked at Ava’s muscular thighs and calves.

  She waited uncomfortably for his eyes to make their way back up to her face. “Nice to meet you.”

  “What position are you applying for?”

  “Cocktail waitress, but I could be a hostess as well.”

  Roman walked behind the bar and pulled down a bottle of tequila. He poured himself a shot. Even though no lights were on inside, he still did not remove his sunglasses. “What’s your SVA score?”

  “Nine.”

  “I don’t have any full-time positions right now, but we have a special event this weekend. The host is . . . sort of picky. A lot of Hollywood’s elite will be here and they don’t want any staff with an SVA score below eight to be working. It’s a political thing—kind of like a fundraiser but not really. I don’t actually know what they’re doing. But they’re renting the club for the evening so they can do whatever they like as far as I’m concerned. I’m not going to start laying people off because they don’t have a high enough SVA score, but this sort of thing may become a trend. If you’d be willing to help me out for this weekend’s gala, it could become a full-time gig in the future.”

  He threw back the shot of tequila and looked Ava up and down once more. “You look like you’d fit in rather nicely around here.”

  “Oh! There you are!” The little blonde girl came by with the application. “I was looking all over for you!”

  Ava hoped Roman wouldn’t realize that she’d been snooping around. “Thank you.” She took the application. “Sure. I can work this weekend. Do I still need to fill this out?”

  Roman poured himself another shot. “No. Tiffany will have you fill out a W-4 form. She’ll have to verify your SVA score. Come in Friday night. I’ll have you follow Mercedes so you can get the lay of the land. Then you’ll more or less know where things are for Saturday.

  “Some of our clients can be a bit rude on occasion. You don’t have to take any unwanted advances or anything, but we do expect you to be cordial, even with guests that may be less than pleasant. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No, sir.” Under any other circumstances, Ava would never put herself in such a position, but this operation was for all the marbles.

  “Good. Be here at nine on Friday night to start setting up. We open at eleven. Seven o’clock on Saturday. The event begins at ten, but they’ve given us an excruciating list of demands, so set up is going to be a bear.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “Come on, we’ll get your paperwork knocked out,” said Tiffany.

  Two hours later, Ava walked into the hotel room. “I’m in! I got the job!”

  “No kidding!” Ulysses looked up. “I would say thank God, but I’m waiting to see how this plays out.”

  “It’s going to be alright.” She kicked off her heels.

  “Why don’t you put on something a little more modest, and we’ll go have dinner out of the room. We can eat at the steakhouse across the street.”

  “Okay.” She smiled and went to the bathroom to change.

  At dinner, Ava made a rough sketch of the club on the hotel notepad she’d brought for just such a purpose. “I’m training Friday night, so I’ll be able to draw a better map before Saturday. I only saw one door on the front, then the delivery door and one fire exit.”

  Ulysses pointed at a box on the notepad. “You said this area is a courtyard, right?”

  “Yeah, but it has barbed wire hidden under the vines.”

  “A jacket thrown over barbed wire can keep it from snagging you. But one exit is all I need anyway. We’ll be long gone by the time Lawrence starts feeling the effects of the nerve agent.”

  “Now we have to figure out how we’re going to get you in,” she said.

  “Check out that fire door when you go in to train. If we can disconnect the alarm, maybe you can bump it open and let me in.”

  “That should work. I won’t have any trouble sne
aking in the VX since it looks like hand sanitizer.”

  Ulysses shook his head. “No. I’ll bring it when you let me in. Lawrence will have heavy security. They may search the staff regardless of their SVA scores.”

  “But if you can’t get in for some reason, we’ll miss our chance. If I have it, I can still make a play.”

  Ulysses said, “No, I’m not going to budge on this one. If I can’t get in, we’ll scrub the mission.”

  Ava was familiar with that determined look in Ulysses’ eyes. She didn’t bother arguing. “So, how are we going to get the VX on Lawrence?”

  “I guess I’ll bump him with it.”

  “What if he’s in a VIP area where you don’t have access?”

  “Then you’ll have to get me in.”

  Ava looked at the thick varnish on the wooden table. She wondered how well her father was going to fit in. His lazy eye and long scar down his mouth and neck didn’t exactly make him look like someone who belonged in a posh nightclub. “We’re going to have to get you an outfit. And maybe some sunglasses.”

  “It’s at night.”

  “I know, but trust me on this one. I think you’ll fit right in.”

  Ulysses grumbled under his breath but did not dismiss the plan.

  Ava thought for a while and finished her ice tea. “What if you tripped, spilled a drink on Shane Lawrence? Then I could come to the rescue with a towel and dry him off.”

  “The VX would be on the towel.” Ulysses considered the move. “And you’d have on clear plastic gloves. Because any contact with the VX on your skin will be lethal.”

  “Yes. I’ll wear gloves.”

  Ulysses nodded. “Okay then. Let’s put a pin in that.”

  “Great.” Ava grinned big and pulled out her phone. “The mall in Valencia is still open. Let’s go find you a disguise after dinner.”

  He sighed. “You look like you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Master, which is the great commandment in the law? Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

  Matthew 22:36-40

  Saturday evening, Ava stood in front of the mirror in the hotel bathroom putting on her makeup.

  Ulysses walked up behind her. “Remember, if I get in trouble tonight, just get out of there. We’ll rendezvous at Staybridge Suites in Vegas. It’s off the beaten path and south of the main strip, so we’ll pass by fewer surveillance cameras.

  “Ditch all of your IDs and credit cards associated with Tamara Jones. You’ll use your secondary alias to get back to the Alliance States. If I’m not at the Vegas hotel twenty-four hours after you arrive, head straight to Utah without me. I’ll meet you back at the house.”

  Ava hated hearing contingencies for when things went wrong. It was a terrible reminder that things usually went wrong. She continued her liberal application of eyeshadow. “I’m sure you’ll reciprocate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I get hemmed up at the club, you’ll go on without me. Wait for me in Vegas for twenty-four hours, then head home?”

  Ulysses cracked a nervous smile and put his hand on hers. “Ava, I have a different skill set than you. I’m better equipped to effect your rescue. If you stick around, I’ll have to get myself out of a jam, then I’ll still have you to worry about.”

  She couldn’t think about any of that. Ava had to stay focused on the task at hand. Allowing her mind to venture into the territory of what-ifs would bring more harm than good. “Nothing is going to go wrong this time. It can’t.”

  Ulysses nodded. “I wish it were as simple as that. But maybe you’re right. Let’s pray that we pull it off without a hitch. But just in case, stick to the backup plan.”

  “I really think you should reconsider letting me carry the VX in my purse.”

  “Absolutely not,” he replied precipitously. His tone softened. “I’m going to destroy the hard drives on the computers if you don’t need them for anything else.”

  She transitioned to her eyeliner pencil. “I can’t exactly send Foley an email, so I guess I’m done with them. I’ll be glad when this is over with.”

  “Me, too.” Ulysses walked away to dispose of their electronic footprints.

  Ava continued to put on her makeup. She looked deep into her own eyes in the mirror. She wondered if she might catch a glimpse of her soul if she stared hard enough and long enough. And if she were to be successful in such an introspective venture, she pondered whether or not she’d like what she saw. “Who am I?” she whispered to the stranger in the mirror.

  Ava thought back to the first life she’d taken, the hooligan on the bridge. No doubt, in that situation, it was him or her. Little did she know at the time, but he was to be the first of many. She’d felt no sense of moral dilemma whatsoever over the ruffian on the bridge. Likewise, the people she’d killed in various gun battles over the past months, it was self-preservation.

  But the insurgency campaigns, they haunted her memories, and often her dreams. She’d felt remorse over her role in the gun collection point bombings, but there was one face she could never erase. “Delaney.” The boy from the stadium bombing visited her often, both when she was asleep and when she was awake. She wondered what he might have become had he not been indoctrinated, poisoned by the culture, brainwashed into becoming a soldier for the regime. Unlike the other bombing victims, she’d seen his horrific demise up-close and personal.

  Yet, with this next action, she would graduate to another level. She’d progressed from being someone willing to take a life in self-defense to someone who would kill with the most vulgar implements of death available to mankind. And on this night, she would dive into the very bowels of hell; she would become an assassin.

  Ava thought about her father’s warnings so many months ago. “War will change you, and there’s no coming back from it,” she whispered to the stranger in the mirror.

  She meditated on the evening’s program. She inquired of her innermost being, “Can I do this? Should I do this?”

  She had not yet left the hotel, so backing out was still an option, albeit a bad one. Ava considered who she’d be letting down if she walked away. “Foley doesn’t even know about it—if he’s still alive, that is. Charity has no idea of the particulars. Dad never wanted to do it in the first place. He’d be thrilled if we simply packed up and went home.”

  “Blackwell, he’d be disappointed.” She wisped mascara through her eyelashes. “But I don’t owe him anything.”

  Ava’s conscience wandered around inside her mind a while, looking for a space where the quandary over right and wrong didn’t weigh on her like a dead elephant. No such place existed inside the confines of her personal gray matter. She did however, find a remote outpost of the predicament, one that was slightly removed, impersonalized.

  “What if this were Hitler? Would I assassinate him?”

  She considered every atrocity committed by the Nazis. “How was such unabated evil ever allowed to fester to such a point? Six million Jews were gassed, starved to death, worked to death in labor camps, or shot outright then burned in ovens.”

  “They were liberated of their right to bear arms,” Ava told the woman in the mirror grimly. She’d found her first similarity in Hitler and Markovich. “The Nazis were unopposed, permitted to kill with impunity. Hitler would have succeeded in eradicating the earth of Jews. Then he’d have gotten rid of the handicapped, the blind, deaf, mentally challenged, and those born with birth defects. I’m sure he’d have proceeded to get rid of all people of color.”

  “But God would have never let him kill off all the Jews. He didn’t. He didn’t let him. How did God stop Hitler then?” she asked the unrecognizable person in the mirror.

  The woman standing opposite Ava tight
ened her jaw, stiffened her back, then replied, “God stopped Hitler with a horrendous act of violence delivered via the tanks, guns, and planes of the Allied Forces. He smashed Hitler with the sacrifice of young American heroes—some who came home wounded, some who came home whole, and some who did not come home at all.”

  Ava considered the reasoning of the woman with too much makeup. “Okay, so if I lived in the forties and had the chance to assassinate Hitler, I guess I would have done it. But Shane Lawrence is my own countryman. Does he deserve the same level of demonization as Hitler?”

  The woman quickly retorted, “Six million Jews were killed under Hitler. To date, Shane Lawrence and the socialist policies he espouses have killed sixty million unborn Americans. And in their mothers’ wombs, no less. At least those Jews had a chance to see a blue sky, laugh, feel the warmth of the sun. No such luxury was ever afforded to the murdered masses killed in the abortion mills of America.

  “And that’s just the beginning. If Blackwell is right, Christians will be euthanized if they don’t renounce their faith, their organs sold off on the open market. You have a chance to throw sand in the gears of this hideous machine. Will you take it?”

  Ava shook her head. “I don’t know? What would God want me to do?”

  “What are the greatest commandments?” she asked.

  Ava remembered the words of Jesus. “To love God with all your heart, mind and soul. And the second is to love your neighbor as yourself. The golden rule. Do unto others as you’d have done unto you.”

  The woman in the mirror challenged, “If another person had the opportunity to put an end to this evil, to allow you to remain free, to read your Bible, worship in public, and live in peace with those you love, wouldn’t you want that person to take that opportunity no matter what measures had to be taken?”

  Ava nodded but did not reply.

  “Then it is a sin, a godless transgression, a cowardly shame if you do not.”

  A deluge of resolve flooded into Ava’s soul. Where hesitation and doubt had been, certainty and fortitude stood tall in their stead. She touched up her lipstick, placed the cap back on the tube, and walked out of the bathroom.