THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  “Friends, listen to me. President Walker is right. We have a long road ahead of us. It’s going to take time to rebuild this nation to the state of greatness she once enjoyed. But you have to believe me. I and others believe that what President Walker would have us do—or not do, I should say—will ruin the very fabric of our country. Yes, we need to rebuild. Yes, we need to help our fellow citizens as they struggle through this crisis. And yes, we can be the great nation we once were. But we cannot get there by letting the Chinese occupy our lands. They must be dealt with.

  “Now, listen. The infrastructure of this country is in shambles right now.” He looked at the congressmen and congresswomen who sat and stood on either side of him. “And many of you are also responsible. Shame on you!”

  This time, it took a full two minutes before he could quiet the crowd.

  “The bottom line is this: President Walker would have you believe some higher power has, for whatever reason, taken out His frustration on our country. He would have you believe the only way to see this country flourish again is to remain in the state we are now. I disagree. I believe we have been shown we are—have been—vulnerable. That we have enemies, both foreign and domestic. And if we don’t pull our heads out of our rear ends, we’re never going to see greatness again.

  “Folks, I want to see America returned to greatness. I want to be able to take my family on a vacation to Colorado to go skiing again. I want to take my family to the beaches of Gulf Shores again. I want to be able to cross that mountain range and not fear that I’m going to get shot by someone pretending to have ownership rights over the land my forefathers bled and died to secure! We can be that nation again. But we cannot be that nation under this administration.

  “I have been the governor of North Carolina for going on seven years now. I have the executive knowledge it takes to run this country. And I know this is somewhat unprecedented, but I think we’re a little past normalcy at this stage in the game. Therefore, in front of all of you…” He turned to face the cameras. “And to all of you watching or listening across these thirteen states that we now call a country…I want you all to hear what I’m about to say.

  “Mr. President, the Constitution provides for you the opportunity to nominate a new vice president—yet another charge you have neglected. Given my experience as an executive and my desire to see this country back on the world stage—in its rightful place—I am officially demanding that you do so. And I submit to you that I am the right person for that position.”

  The crowd exploded with applause. It was as if he had been on the campaign trail for months and his opponent had been ousted for having an affair. The people were practically worshiping him. He didn’t even bother to quiet them this time. He wanted them roused. He wanted the people watching on television to feel the energy in that place. He turned his head toward the rotunda entrance, as if Walker were still standing there listening.

  “Look at these people, Mr. President. Listen to them as they applaud my courage to stand up to our enemies. Listen to them as they show their support for someone who desires to lead them!” Turning back to the cameras, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your country. You have the right to demand that President Walker listen to you. That he do as we ask him now and nominate me as vice president. And I make you this promise. As soon as he bows his ego and narcissism to the will of the people, I will see to it that he pays for his neglect of this country. My first order of business, as your new vice president, will be to oversee the process of having him removed from office and tried for crimes of treason against this nation! Then, by the power granted to me by the Constitution, I will assume the rank of your commander in chief. And unlike my counterpart, I promise to act like one! Thank you!”

  With that, Nolan stepped back from the bank of microphones and raised his fists in the air. By tomorrow morning, the entire country would be calling for Walker’s head on a plate. And he had just served it up.

  CHAPTER 44

  Raleigh, North Carolina

  Gavin Pemberton didn’t dance. He’d never liked it. Never thought it held any value. What was the point in bouncing around, jostling your insides, and looking like a fool in front of others. Even at his own weddings, he had to be forced to participate in the couple’s first slow dance. It just wasn’t something he did.

  Until just now.

  He sat on the edge of his seat, watching Joe give it to Walker. And, boy, did he! Joe had just taken the world’s biggest sledgehammer and bashed Walker’s skull with it—metaphorically, of course. Though he did enjoy, for a second, the thought of that actually happening. But Joe…good ol’ Joe! He couldn’t remember when he had ever been that proud of someone in his whole life. It took everything he had just to sit still and listen. Joe had him so fired up halfway through his speech, he couldn’t sit still. And when he delivered that last line—the one about how Joe promised to act like a president—he was so excited, he shot up out of his chair and began to dance a jig. Right there, in the middle of the floor, smacking his palm against his leg and bouncing around the room, whooping and hollering. He was so excited, he almost forgot he had just had his best friend killed.

  The thought jarred him and brought back the anger and bitterness he’d been dealing with all day. He sat back down in his chair, turned the television off, and threw the remote across the room. He was wrought up with contempt—how had Milton allowed himself to be found and manipulated by those agents?

  Earlier the local news had reported that Hayes had been found dead in his home. The report said that they believed it was a home invasion. That gunfire had been exchanged and the home had been damaged, showing signs of a struggle.

  Pemberton knew what the struggle was. Alex Smith was the struggle. Obviously, Milton had fought with the woman, trying to escape and save his life. He was disappointed that Smith hadn’t been more tactful. But what did he know? He wasn’t a professional assassin. Perhaps the struggle was staged to look like a home invasion. Perhaps that was how she worked. And obviously it did work. The police had said they were looking for more than one suspect, given the amount of damage and gunfire at the scene.

  But as old and mean and set in his ways as he was, Pemberton still felt some sadness for his friend. In some respects, Milton had been closer to him than any of his wives. He and Milton had shared secrets he had told no one else.

  In the end, he decided that Milton was a hero. The man died promoting the sovereignty of the country. He was just an unfortunate casualty of war. And it was better this way. Eventually, Milton would have become a liability. His flippancy about the social order and his extremely liberal ideals would have caused problems. Not to mention Milton was really a coward when push came to shove. Pemberton knew that eventually those agents or someone else would’ve gotten to him. And then who knows what kind of bad could’ve happened? No, it was better this way.

  He walked over to the wet bar, poured himself a glass, and held it up. “Milton, my friend, may you rest in peace. I promise I won’t let your death be in vain.” He tipped the glass back and drained it.

  He grabbed his car keys and his jacket. The weather was finally starting to turn cooler. He pulled the collar up over his neck and stepped outside. He had thought about calling, but he knew the old coot would be home. Besides, he didn’t feel like messing with trying to get a landline call placed. It was still a crapshoot half the time. The idea had just come to him as he had watched Joe’s speech. And he didn’t want to explain over the phone.

  He fired up the old pickup and pulled the lever in gear. He was going to see Jake Irving.

  CHAPTER 45

  Washington, DC

  Keene woke up with a headache. He went to the bathroom, grabbed some ibuprofen, and chased it with a glass of water from the sink. He reached behind him and turned the shower on as hot as it would go and got undressed.

  Last night had been the first night in almost a half a year that he had spent in his own bed. After the debacle at the Capitol, he and
Boz had gotten President Walker out of there before a full-on riot could break out.

  Walker had been furious and dumbfounded, all at the same time. He couldn’t understand how this had happened—how what was supposed to be a defining point in the nation’s history had turned into a series of attacks on his character, the nation’s weakness, and the outright sovereignty of God. Keene, of course, didn’t have any answers. They both had looked to Boz for his take.

  “Guys, I don’t know what to tell you,” Boz had said. “All I know is that Quinn warned us this was happening. I guess we should’ve expected it.”

  “I expected some criticism,” Walker had admitted. “But nothing like what I just saw. I mean, it was like getting picked off by a sniper. Who knows what the fallout of this will be!”

  Keene had a pretty good idea. And he wasn’t all that excited about it. But he wasn’t going to debate it right then with the president in the car. He would wait until he, Jennings, and Boz could huddle up privately.

  “Go home, Jon. Get some sleep,” Jennings had said. “You need it.” Then, “You, too, Boz. We’ll meet up tomorrow morning.”

  As much as Keene had wanted to go back to the hospital and check on Megan and Eli, he knew Jennings was right. He desperately needed a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t caught more than four hours at any given time since he’d gotten back to Washington.

  The sleep had been good; he had pretty much drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow. He didn’t even have time to enjoy—even for a couple of minutes—the fact that he was home and in his own bed. But when he woke the next morning, he just lay there, enjoying the feel of his mattress. Wrapped himself around his comforter, jostled the pillow around to get it just right. He’d almost, for a second, thought he was going to drift back off. But then his thoughts went to Megan. Last night. The Prophet. Chin and the Chinese. And the next thing he knew, his head was pounding with a headache.

  He turned the water off and got out. Heading downstairs, he almost lost his footing and fell as he was startled to see Boz in his kitchen. His foot slipped and bounced to the next step, but he caught himself on the rail.

  Boz turned around to see what the commotion was. “Hey, glad you’re up. I’m making breakfast.”

  Keene continued down the steps and into the kitchen. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.” He stole a piece of toast from the plate sitting on the counter.

  “How do you like your eggs?”

  “From a chicken,” Keene said.

  Boz turned and gave him a sour face.

  “Scrambled is fine.” Then, “What are you doing here?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. Been up for about two hours. And since you and I are going to be spending the rest of the day together, I just came here. How’d you sleep?”

  “Couldn’t tell you. I was out before my head hit the pillow.”

  Boz brought plates filled with eggs, toast, and bacon to the table and set them down. Keene poured himself a cup of coffee and refilled Boz’s. He sat down and looked at the food. “Thanks for this.” He crammed a whole piece of bacon in his mouth. “I’m starving.”

  When they were finished, they headed straight for the car. Boz drove while Keene fished the sat-phone out of his pocket and waited for Jennings to answer.

  “Where are you?” Jennings said.

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” Keene said. “We’re on our way to Bethesda. Going to check in on Megan and Eli. See if there’s been a change.”

  “Good. You see any coverage from the speech?”

  “No. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open long enough to get inside my house.”

  “I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

  “Roger that. We’ll head that way soon as we check on Megan and Eli,” Keene said as he heard the click on the other end of the line. He turned to Boz. “Jennings asked if I saw any of the reaction from the speech. You see anything?”

  “Nope. Went straight to bed.”

  Keene decided to turn the radio on and see what the pundits were saying.

  It didn’t take long to find it. The first two stations were playing music; the next one was on commercial. The fourth, however, a local talk program, was right in the middle of it. The show’s host was going on and on about how Walker had been made to look like an idiot. That Governor Nolan was the man of the hour. Nolan had in ten minutes gone from a virtually unknown politician—outside of North Carolina, anyway—to a rock star. It seemed that the majority of the country, so far, was calling for Nolan to be the next vice president. And in the next breath, that he do as he said and see that Walker was brought up on charges.

  “Man, this isn’t good.” Keene reached over and turned the radio back off. “That guy is exactly what Quinn was talking about. And if I find out he had anything to do with Megan and Eli…” He let his thought trail off.

  “Yeah,” Boz said. “We definitely need to squash this as quickly as we can. I’m just not sure how.”

  Keene looked at him with narrowed eyes.

  Boz shook his head. “And we can’t just kill him. So stop thinking about it.”

  “What?” Keene shrugged.

  “Don’t what me.” He laughed. “I know exactly what you were thinking.”

  “Would make it easier.”

  They rode in silence the rest of the way. When they got to Bethesda, the guard waved them through and they drove around the compound to the place they had parked before. They went inside and split up: Keene went to check on Megan while Boz went to see about Eli. Though they were in the same wing, their rooms were at opposite ends of the hall.

  Keene found a nurse and asked if there had been any change. The nurse said that there hadn’t, but she allowed him to go in and sit by Megan. He pulled the chair over to her bed and sat down. He reached up and took her hand.

  “Hey, kiddo. How you doing? I know they’re taking good care of you. I threatened them within an inch of their lives if they didn’t.” He smiled, though she couldn’t see him. He watched as the plunger from the breathing tube rose and fell.

  The door to the room opened and Boz came in. “Any change?”

  Keene leaned back in the chair and let go of Megan’s hand. “No. Not yet. Eli?”

  “Doc said he woke up a couple of times, but that’s about it. Didn’t talk or anything. Just opened his eyes. Then he was out again.” Boz pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed with Keene. “Jon, I want you to know something.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want you to know that God hasn’t abandoned Megan. Or Eli. Just because they are lying in these beds like this doesn’t mean He has lost control over this situation.”

  Keene bit his lip and turned his head away. He knew deep down that Boz was right. But he was still new at this whole believing thing. And he was having a hard time dealing with the fact that Megan was lying in the bed in front of him, and she had done nothing to deserve it. Himself, maybe. He had deserved a lot of things that had happened to him. He had fought against God for so long…well, he just understood things on his end. But Megan was different. He felt Boz’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Hey, look at me for a second.”

  Keene turned to face him.

  “I know you’re thinking, Why her, God? What has she done to deserve this? The answer is maybe she didn’t do anything to deserve it. But we need to understand, Jon, bad things happen to good people sometimes. And it’s not because God can’t control it. It’s because we live in a fallen and broken world. Remember what I told you before you went to Texas to look for Quinn?”

  He remembered. “Yeah. This is how it’s going to be until Christ comes back and restores all things.”

  “That’s right. And we might not understand it fully, but we have to believe that God’s plan is being worked out. The way He intended it.”

  “So if I were to go back across the border and kill Chin, you’re saying God intended it?”

  Boz let out a huge sigh and scratched his head. “Not exactly…m
aybe…but that’s a theological discussion I don’t think is necessary for us to have right now. Let’s just say God is sovereign over all things, but we’re responsible for the choices we make. And what matters is that we seek His guidance in all things.”

  Keene didn’t fully understand it, but he mostly did. And really it didn’t matter anyway because, ever since that night in his cell when he’d cried out to God, his whole paradigm of decision making had been changed anyway. It was as if, without thinking, he just automatically thought about what God would have him do. So he guessed that was a good enough explanation for now. “What are we supposed to do, then? Just sit and wait?”

  “That, and we continue to pray for them.” They sat there in silence for a minute. “And…we do what we’re called to do. Right now, that’s trying to figure out what’s going on out there and putting a stop to it.”

  Keene thought about that for a moment. He agreed. But what were they supposed to do? They had no direction. They had nothing to go on except the Prophet’s vague directive: stop the insurrection. And besides, right now all he really cared about was being here with Megan. He looked at Boz. “Every day, while I was in that cell, all I could think about was her.” He looked back at Megan. “I mean, how ridiculous is that? I barely spent two weeks with her.”

  “Jon, sometimes it just happens that way. I can tell you she feels the same about you.”

  “How do you know that?”