The Called

by Justin Price

  "Daughter, this is not the end of your life but the beginning. All that I require is that you put your faith in me from this day forward. I have called you to be among those in the world and to bring the glory and splendor of my Kingdom with you. I have called you to prepare the way for me. I come quickly."

  Suddenly she found herself opening her eyes in the hospital room. This time there was no fear, sadness, or anger. Although it was a dream, she could still feel his warmth wrapped around her and a sense of safety enveloped her. She knew that somehow she was going to be alright and that her life was changing.

  The morning came quickly for John. He at least assumed it was morning. There wasn't really any sense of time underground. He slowly sat up on the small cot that had been his bed. He had been through so much for such an extended period of time as a prisoner of war and then a fugitive in his own country that a good night's sleep, even in the company of total strangers, felt like the best thing to happen to him in a long time.

  The tours that he had served in overseas had conditioned him to be able to sleep almost anywhere. He always had to do so with one eye open because the enemy could always be lurking around the corner. Lesser men would have broken under the pressure, but John Robertson seemed to be born for this. He was a warrior in every sense of the word. Even when he was taken captive and thought to be dead, he found a way to survive and eventually escape while taking out a dozen of his captors in the process.

  He immediately learned while on his way to civilization of the military's techniques on soldiers that had experiences trauma during war. He received enough reports to know that if he returned, then they would completely erase his memories, and with it, who he was. He couldn't live with that thought. Yes, many of the memories were bad, but they were his. It was what made him the man he was.

  He managed to remain anonymous upon arrival to the United States. What he found out about the purpose of the government planting new memories and thoughts into former soldiers was chilling. They were going to be turned against some U.S. citizens to get rid of certain 'undesirable' parts of society. The government knew that there were too many soldiers that would not join in the fight against believers, even if they didn't share their convictions. After all, they were still fellow citizens of a free country.

  Freedom, however, was only a perceived notion that had long since eroded. It was only an illusion now; nothing more than a saying with no real substance. With the cerebral reconditioning of soldiers coming home from war, they would take on a new mission at home to eradicate every adherent to religion. They would be sent to prison camps or killed. There was no more freedom, only subjection to the culture and world government.

  John's mind wandered to his wife as he sat there in the dimly lit room with about five other men who had not yet stirred, much less awoken from their slumber. He wondered what Maggie was doing now and if he would ever be able to get close enough to ever see her again, let alone continue their marriage. He was secretly a wanted man. John was considered to be a danger to society because according to the government, he shouldn't be alive. He was a very high profile war hero and if he was seen and recognized by enough people, then that would destroy the government's credibility that they had worked so hard to attain.

  "Pssst...."

  "Pssssst...."

  John looked around and noticed David peak his head in through the door, motioning him to come out. John put his boots on and walked out of the makeshift communal bedroom to a brighter lit main subway terminal. There were already a few men out and about for the morning. A large old fashioned clock on one of the walls read 4:36; a good night's sleep for a soldier.

  "Welcome to our control center John," said David.

  "Today you get to see what we do here from day to day to not only survive, but to thrive here underground. It has taken several years to get where we are now. There are many second generation believers here that have grown into adults themselves."

  "I never had any idea that there was a whole different culture beneath the surface. This is almost surreal," said John.

  "Yea, well after this long here, the only thing surreal is when we see what the world above us has become. So shiny and sophisticated, yet lacking in human goodness or compassion. It's like there are millions of robots or zombies up there that live only to feed on what the government has chosen to give them. There is no more true individuality and life is no longer valued like it once was."

  "That's an interesting viewpoint, Mr. O'Reilly. Sadly, I have found that to be all too true in my own way. Have you ever heard of cerebral reconditioning?"

  David glanced up at him with a half grin. "Sounds like a government program."

  "I guess you could say that. It's definitely not one that I want to be a recipient of."

  "Walk with me."

  The two men continued through the large underground terminal and came to a steel door. "Not that I don't trust you John, but could you look away for a moment please?"

  John averted his eyes and David entered a code on a keypad on the door. With a click, the door was unlocked and the two walked in.

  John was amazed at what he saw. It looked like a fairly sophisticated operation. It reminded him of some of the movies he had seen of some of the old war rooms of the early 21st century. There were probably twenty men and women in this room. There were holographic screens scattered throughout with a main screen at the end of the room showing a map of the world with several dots scattered about.

  "What is all of this?" John asked as he waved his hand across the room.

  "This is our command center. We have people throughout the world who represent us and we can't always be in a hidden place. There are times that we have to go out into the big bad world. This is where we keep tabs on many of our fellow believers."

  "Everyone?" asked John with raised eyebrows.

  "No. This is only a small portion of everyone. We have been working on identifying other believers before the governments of this world do and connecting them with the tools, hiding places, and resources that are so desperately needed."

  David looked down with tears in his eyes.

  "We have still lost too many. We are losing them every day. They are being martyred or even worse: kept like animals in these prison camps."

  He pulled a picture out of his pocket of a woman and too small girls.

  "This is my wife and my two daughters. They are in a prison camp in Philadelphia. They have been for two years. I wasn't around when they were taken or I would have had the same fate."

  "I'm so sorry David."

  "Me too. I have always wondered if I could have changed anything had I been around."

  "You can't play that game friend. It is a never ending pit that doesn't have a resolution."

  "Yea, I know. It's easier said than done though."

  David wiped his eyes and took a deep breath.

  "Listen John, we are all believers in God and the true Messiah here, but I don't want to hide the fact that we have a large militia population throughout this country and the world. We never go out looking for a fight, but we do have to train and prepare for anything. Sometimes we do run dangerous recon missions as well as search and rescue."

  "...and you want me to help?"

  "That's the idea," said David.

  "Okay, but what's in it for me?"

  David glared into John's ice cold eyes for a minute.

  "How about we reunite you with your wife tomorrow?"

  CHAPTER 7

  Maggie had several hours to do nothing but think. She was obviously being held against her will like a common criminal by the feds. She wasn't sure why, but she did know that it had something to do with her presumed dead husband. Whatever the case was, she should have the right to know what she was being interrogated for.

  She got up and started pacing back and forth in the room, looking at the concrete walls that were closing in on her by the hour. She thought, 'How long could they possibly keep me in here? Will I ever get out of
here? Nobody will know where I am. The feds would have covered their tracks too well.'

  Maggie laid back down on the small bed as panic set in and tears began to trickle down both cheeks. Sadness, regret, and anger flooded her as she clinched her fists and buried her face in the pillow. It was like she had to deal with the pain of losing her husband all over again. She couldn't imagine a scenario where he had actually made it out alive.

  She just laid there lamenting the fact that she was now a prisoner. It made her think of John and how he had been reportedly captured as a prisoner of war. She knew that this was nothing like what he must have felt because she was actually being fed well and treated with as much respect as one could expect in this situation. Nonetheless, this made her feel closer to him for a moment. She shuddered to think what may have happened to him as a prisoner in a foreign land.

  Most soldiers that were captured were tortured and eventually beheaded on camera for the world to see. She had always thought it odd that there was never a video of John being killed despite the reports that he had been. Especially someone as high profile as John. There was no single person in the years long war that had killed as many extremists as him. The only ray of hope that she had right now was that maybe he survived and had escaped.

  She just couldn't piece together exactly why he would be wanted by the government that he served so well. Maggie was done with the questions. She had enough. If there was going to be any more questions asked of her then she was going to get some answers.

  "Rakeem!"

  "I know you can hear me. I demand some answers right now. If you want any information from me whatsoever, then you are going to cooperate with me here. This isn't right!"

  She stood intently in front of the small security camera in the corner of the room with her arms folded in defiance. Her father and her husband had always said she was stubborn. If she was going to be here, then she was going to get what she wanted from them.

  Finally, after several minutes of her shouting, the officer that had initially questioned her came in the door. He looked as exhausted as she felt, but quickly stood up straight with his chest puffed out slightly.

  "Maggie, do you know who you are speaking to? You don't demand anything here. You are in no position to demand."

  She wasn't one bit intimidated by this bad cop persona. Her father had worked in the prison system for years and much of that had carried on to her home life. If there was one thing he had taught her, it was not to be intimidated by anything or anyone. She was persistent to say the least.

  "Well sir, all I am telling you is that I don't know anything and you can't expect me to answer any questions if I am in the dark here. You might as well release me now."

  "That won't be happening right now Mrs. Robertson and yes I will tell you why that is."

  Here it was... she braced herself for whatever news, good or bad, that he was about to deliver.

  "Your husband is believed to have escaped from his captors in Iran about six months ago. At first, we had reason to believe him dead, but he had been spotted in the United States by border patrol officers in Mexico. It is believed that he chartered a flight to Mexico City and essentially drove himself all the way to the Texas border where he crossed over about three months ago. He was recognized by border patrol, but he fled for some unknown reason."

  "Alright, so why is he wanted? Has he done something wrong?"

  "Yes. It is first required that all soldiers be approved by the military to come home. He should have gone to the nearest base and reported for duty and had an examination to see if he was still mentally and physically fit to continue his tour. He is essentially considered a deserter. Next, he snuck back into the country and skipped the required debriefing and counseling that he should have attended. That is also a federal offense. Last and most important to me... he is now wanted for the murder of my partner. We were in pursuit of him and lost him, but not before he could gun down my partner in cold blood. In addition, he is now believed to be siding with the Christian rebels."

  Maggie's head was spinning by this point. She wondered to herself how much of this could actually be true. Right now, it didn't matter to her if all of it was true or not. The only thing that mattered was that her husband was alive. Her emotions and thoughts were being pulled in a dozen different directions, but she had to remain calm.

  "...and you think that I am now guilty by association?"

  "We have to cover all of our bases mam. You are the obvious person that he would have contact with after coming back into the country."

  She knew he was right. If John had been back in the country for three months, why hadn't she heard from him? She let that roll around in her already cluttered mind for a moment. She knew why... John knew that she would become a target if he didn't stay away.

  "Now that you know, I am going to ask you again Maggie. Have you had any calls from odd numbers or any type of contact or attempted contact with him or anyone who could now be working with him?"

  "No. I have not....and you actually have the gall to basically kidnap me from my home and lock me up and then tell me in this environment that my husband is alive and he is now a wanted terrorist?"

  "I didn't use that word Mrs. Robertson. You did."

  Rakeem stood up and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Maggie sunk down into her chair completely drained not only due to lack of sleep, but because of the raw emotion and adrenaline that had been running through her body. She wondered now if there was ever any hope of being able to see her husband again. It would be a cruel fate to learn that he was alive, and then have that snatched away from her again before she could ever embrace him and tell him how much she loves him.

  Rakeem walked down the corridor and into the main office of the Department of Homeland Security. The busy department was bustling with agents, secretaries, and officers of all kinds working on cases and tracking thousands of suspicious persons throughout the United States. The state of the art twenty second century facility was truly something to behold.

  Up above the controlled chaos stood a large screen about twenty yards in height and twice as long. A huge sprawling map of the United States was featured on it with thousands of flashing white dots. These dots represented every citizen that had been picked up by the new recording devices being rolled out across the country.

  These people were all suspects now and that number would grow exponentially once the rollout of this new technology was completed across all fifty states. The U.S. government knew where they were at all times and continued to track their conversations whether it be on their mobile devices, public transportation, or just out on the streets that had been equipped with the listening bugs.

  As Rakeem walked down the middle of the large main floor, he passed by Tom's old desk directly in front of his. It was difficult for him to believe that it had only been two days since his passing. Everything these days, including funerals, moved so quickly. His replacement would be starting on Monday and Rakeem had to be ready to help train him.

  Tom's personal belongings had already been gathered up and taken to his wife. He took a seat at his desk and stared at the back of his partner's old work space. Rakeem allowed his mind to wander back to his first day as a special agent.

  Rakeem was as nervous has he could be. Even though he had spent five years in the NYPD as an officer and an investigator, nothing could really prepare him for the massive institution called the Department of Homeland Security. From the humble beginnings after a terrorist attack at the dawn of the 21st century, this department had become "big brother" for everyone. As the decades passed, the department was as concerned with keeping the country safe from its own citizens as much as it was protecting it from outside forces.

  He remembered walking through the massive space on that Monday morning not knowing what he was going to encounter when he came in. As the receptionist ushered him to his desk, he noticed an older man in his fifties sitting on a desk twirling a bas
ketball on his finger.

  "You must be Rakeem."

  "Yes sir. It is a pleasure to meet you."

  "Likewise. My name is Tom. I will be your superior partner, leader, and you will call me daddy while you are here. Do you understand me son?"

  "Sir, yes sir."

  They looked at each other for a moment with neither one cracking a smile. After what seemed like an eternity, Tom just chuckled and smacked Rakeem on his shoulder gleefully.

  "I had you there for a minute. You can call me Tom. Son, I've been in this line of work for nearly thirty years now. If there is one thing I have learned, it's that we all bring our own strengths to the table, but in the end, it's all about teamwork."

  Rakeem breathed a sigh of relief once he realized that his partner was a jokester. He listened as Tom mustered up his best sage advice.

  Eventually Tom said, "Alright, now let's go to the rec area and play some basketball. I did my homework on you. I heard that you were the highest scoring ball player in your state back in high school. Let's see if you've still got it."

  Rakeem recalled that first day fondly. They shot hoops and talked for most of the day. They got to know each other and they eventually became like family. He never really knew his own father, but now he could honestly say that Tom had become as close to a dad as he ever had.

  He came back to reality and hung his head in the full realization that he would never see Tom again. He had already been grieving for the last couple of days, but this was the first time that he had truly grieved for his own personal loss. Not the loss of Tom's family, or of his friends, but his own personal loss.

  Tom had been a family man. His wife, children, and grandchildren were a huge part of his life. In the five years that Rakeem had worked with him, this is the biggest lesson he learned from him. It was all about family.

  That was it.... family.

  It all clicked in his mind what he needed to do to capture his partner's killers.