W: The Planner, The Chosen

by Alexandra Swann

  “What about Kris?” Keith held the passport in one hand and patted it gently with the other.

  “There’s nothing I can do for her. She has to show up tomorrow; she has to be in court to hear the ruling. If she were to disappear now it would trigger an instant manhunt that would risk all of you being captured. Kris has made her decision. If the Court rules in her favor, she’ll get her life back; if not she’s already as good as dead. But you still have a choice. You can live through this. You’re holding in your hand a literal ‘get of jail free card.’ Use it.”

  With those words David stepped back into the tunnel, leaving Keith alone in the basement holding his own exit strategy as well as Jessie’s and Kyle’s.

  He stood thinking for what felt like a long time. Of course, he would help Jessie and Kyle. He had to—he had gotten them into this mess. But should he go himself? He had secretly wished a thousand times that he had never gotten into this predicament in the first place. He had wished an equal number of times that he could wave his hand and make it all disappear. If only there were an easy way out. Now there was—all he had to do was drive away and keep driving. After all, it wasn’t his fault that his parents had died; it wasn’t his fault that Kris had fallen in love with Mike. It wasn’t his fault that Mike and Jeff had gotten arrested or that Kris had decided to die trying to free them. None of it was his fault. David was right—he had done everything that he could.

  And yet, he could not fight off the tremendous sense of loss and sadness. Kris was the last remaining person who was really a part of his life. They had spent the last three years together. When he left tomorrow, she would be all alone. She would be arrested alone, and she would never know what had happened to him. Probably she would assume that he had been arrested too; she would probably never realize that he had escaped. It would be better that way—for her not to know that he had left without her.

  He would also be alone—more alone than he had ever been. At least, when he had lived in the forest he had known that he had family, even if he chose not to see them or talk to them most of the time. This time it would be different. His niece and nephews were living in a foreign country; he would never see them again. He would never see Karyn again. And even though he found Mike odd, he liked him—he’d always liked him. He’d always liked Jeff. Everyone was gone—everything was gone. Now the only two choices left to him were to run away and pretend that he had never known any of them or to stay here and die with them. There was no big glorious ending for his life after all—just a choice about how he would live the next twenty-four hours and how he would die. To believe anything different than this required a faith that he had not allowed himself for many years. Only God could help them now, but Keith had not allowed himself to think about God for a very long time. For the first time in years, he wanted to ask for His help, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. By asking he would be admitting that he was wrong—that he had been wrong all along. As the reality of his situation sank in, as he sat all alone in the house, his own fear and sadness and sense of inadequacy crashed over him, and he put his head in his hands and sobbed as he had not done since the day he had buried Cassie and his baby.

  Chapter 28

  Kris arrived at the house just as the sun was setting. Keith was still in the living room. His eyes looked puffy. “I gotta go…gotta finish up some stuff with Jessie and Kyle, since this is the last night,” he mumbled as he walked out the front door. She heard him insert his key and lock it behind him. After purposely loitering on the street for about five minutes, he reentered the basement by the side door and then exited through the tunnel without her ever being aware that he had returned.

  Kris was sorry to see him go; she had hoped that they could spend this last evening together—not to talk, not to do anything, just to be together. Just the presence of another human being would have been some comfort, but now she was completely alone in this tiny, ugly hovel. As the sun set, the wood siding walls seemed to close in smaller and smaller around her, and she could hear every creak of the floor and gurgle of the old pipes as if they were being magnified through an amplifier.

  She thought about the day nine months earlier when she had first gone to see Julian. She had been so confident that they would win this suit that she had not even taken time to consider whether she had any other options. She had told herself over and over that God would not have allowed her to meet Michael, would not have let them fall in love, would not have given her the beautiful baby she had always wanted but had given up hoping for, only to take them all away. That thought had sustained her during the most difficult parts of the process—the assurance that in the end they would all be together. Now that she was less than twenty-four hours away from learning the outcome of all their work, she was not so sure. Maybe it was only a test—maybe they were never meant to win. Maybe Michael and Jeff were meant to die in prison, and she was destined to be executed.

  Alone in the house with only the sound of her own thoughts, Kris walked through the rooms and talked to God. She thought about her parents. Of everything she regretted in her life, she was the sorriest for their deaths. If she had made the decision to quit her job even one week sooner, they might still be alive. If she had not walked into the FMPD headquarters and accepted the job as a Level I Planner that day in March of 2014, none of this would have happened.

  Kris looked at her watch—it was past midnight. She did not want to go to bed; although she was exhausted, she was too nervous to sleep. Sitting down on the bare floor she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Suddenly, she was transported back in time; it was the Fourth of July, 2014. The night was hot and clear and she and Karyn and Jeff were sitting outdoors at Enchanted Island watching fireworks with Jim and Janine. She could feel Seth’s head in her lap as she stroked his warm, sweaty curls. She could feel the warmth of Faith’s hand as she held it in her own. She remembered exactly how everyone had looked and sounded and how she had wanted to stay in that moment forever. Just as unexpectedly as she had dozed off, she awoke with a start to find herself on the floor alone. Her dream brought back all of the events of that year with startling clarity.

  She remembered the first day she had met Michael in the cafeteria at W. She had thought then that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen; she must have loved him from that first day. He had always been so strong—he could not have always been as unafraid as he appeared to be, but he acted unafraid, and through his courage he had given all of them courage. If she had known how this would end, would she have allowed herself to fall in love with him? If she could have looked into the future and seen this night, would she have married him and borne his child? Or would they both have been better off if she had thrown away the mobile phone he had smuggled to her on her last day as an employee of FMPD?

  No, whatever happened tomorrow, she would never regret having married Michael or having had Mitch. For all of the suffering they had all experienced, and for all of the suffering that might be ahead, becoming Michael’s wife was probably the best decision she had ever made in her adult life. Her happiness with Michael had been so intense that it had made all of the pain worthwhile. These past months she had prayed for him every day, all during the day, and suffered each day knowing that he was in prison, sick, ill-treated and malnourished. She could not change what had happened, or even what would happen tomorrow, but she had fought for her husband and her child with everything that she had at her disposal. If that were not enough, then it was not enough. But knowing Michael, just having been his wife, had helped her find a strength she had never believed she could possess. She would die loving him, whether that death came in a few days or in forty years.

  And Mitch…he had been only eight months old the last time she had seen him. Now he was almost two years old. She wondered what he looked like now. She tried to imagine him walking and talking—did he call Karyn “Mama”? She had missed his first word, his first step, all of the happy exciting firsts that parents wait and long for.
She took his picture out of her purse. It was carefully folded behind her Social Security card in her wallet. Taken just before Michael and Jeff had been arrested, it was an eight-month old Mitch, his light brown curls curving gently around his face and framing his huge blue eyes with their dark lashes. His mouth was open in the shape of an “O” revealing a raspberry pink tongue and pink lips. He looked so happy and expectant in the picture. She had been holding a cookie just off camera to coax him to smile, and he was frozen in time waiting for it with an eagerness that only a baby can experience.

  Tears began to splash from her eyes onto the picture that she clutched in her hand. As the tears fell, her entire body was racked with deep sobs—for the parents she had loved and lost, for the sister who was gone, for the husband who might be about to die, and for the baby she might never hold again. After a long time, she cried herself to sleep.

  Kris opened her eyes—a tiny rim of gold was just lining the underside of the dark clouds. It was morning. She had been awake most of the night; she must have dozed off just before dawn.

  The tear-stained picture of Mitch was lying next to her—she picked it up and put it in her purse so that she would not start crying again. The night was over; morning had come, and there was no more time for tears.

  She got some water from the kitchen faucet to swallow a couple of the few remaining aspirin she had in her purse. Her head hurt, her throat was sore, she ached all over, but she thought her pain was due to stress and exhaustion rather than flu.

  Keith had not come back. She had wanted to say goodbye to him—to tell him how much all of his help and hard work had meant to her. She needed to find a way to tell him now, in case she did not see him again. His laptop was still on the desk. He would almost certainly come back for it. She would leave him a note—just in case. Kris’ hands trembled as she logged on and tried to formulate exactly how to tell her brother goodbye. When his homepage came up she hardly noticed The Line Up with its photos and descriptions of “domestic terrorists”, but something caught her eye that made her heart skip a beat and riveted her attention on the photo in front of her. “Lena St. Clair arrested April 1, 2018, along with co-conspirators Edward and Lexy St. Clair…” Kris’ mind went numb and she was unable to read the remainder of the information accompanying the photo.

  “Oh my God!” she cried. “Please help Lena and Ed and Lexy. Please, Lord, please don’t let them die. Keep them safe and set them free. They have given up so much to fight back this evil that threatens our country. Please help them, and please make the Court strike down the NDAA.”

  When she had gained control of herself, Kris opened the word processing software and typed carefully:

  “Keith, I want to thank you so much for everything you have done for all of us—for Mom and Dad, for Karyn and the kids, for Michael and Jeff and for me. I don’t know what I would have done without you. No matter what happens today, I want you to know that I will always be grateful.

  “Now that this is finally over, I pray that you will start a new life somewhere safe. I want you to be happy, Keith, and to find the joy and peace that comes from having a relationship with Jesus. And I want you to be at peace knowing that all of us know that you did everything that you could possibly do. I love you very much.”

  She closed the notepad and left it on the desk. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, smoothed her hair into a chignon at the nape of her neck, and walked out the door.

  The air was cold as she stood on the lawn of the Capitol. The rain had turned into a wet slushy snow that fell like great frozen teardrops against her skin. From her taxi she had seen the cherry blossoms. How was it possible to have a morning that cold when lovely pink cherry blossoms were in full bloom all over Washington D.C.? Kris thought that these next few hours would determine her future—whether she would live, whether Michael and Jeff would live, whether she would ever hold Mitch again, but the trees blossomed just as they had every spring. Long after she and Michael and Jeff were all just memories, the trees would be blooming and the bright blue and green mallard ducks would be swimming in the reflecting pool of the Washington Mall.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” the voice behind her was Keith’s. “I spent the night destroying hard drives. Jessie and Kyle crossed the border into Canada early this morning. I stayed behind to make sure that if things go bad today the Feds won’t be able to find anything to implicate those guys. I thought I could make it back before you left so that I could drive you.”

  “Keith, you shouldn’t be here. You’ve done everything you can do. You need to be some place safe.”

  “I am some place safe. Living or dying we follow the Lord. Come on; let’s go,” he took her hand and led her up the cold, wet concrete steps.

  Chapter 29

  Escorted by two Capitol guards sent by House Speaker Richards to meet them, Kris and Keith made their way through the halls of the Capitol. Across the marble floors and through the National Statuary Hall, they followed their escorts. Out of the corner of her eye, Kris caught sight of the statue of Father Damien—a small, stout representation of a priest who gave his life in Hawaii to help lepers when no one else would. How ironic that a statue commemorating his courage stood in a building housing the same government that had arrested and imprisoned Nathan O’Brien for demonstrating his courage.

  During her real estate years, Kris had been to Washington D.C. on multiple occasions lobbying for the real estate industry, and she had been on multiple tours of the Capitol building—some better hosted and more extensive than others. Keith had also traversed these halls multiple times during his years as an award-winning photojournalist for cable news. Keith had never paid much attention to the art or architecture or the beautifully crafted floors and ceilings—he was there chasing a story about some deadbeat politician or trying to get set up to record a sound bite (which was undoubtedly a lie anyway) and then transmit it back for the news. To him the gilded surroundings were just as ridiculous and wasted as a sapphire necklace adorning a pig’s throat. But to Kris, the Capitol Rotunda and the hallways had always seemed magical—a glittering, glorious reminder of the specialness of America. Today, as they made their way through the halls behind the security sent to escort them, she felt as though she were having an out-of-body experience. Every sight, every sound was magnified one thousand times. She might be walking down this hall to her own death sentence, and she felt as if she were doing so in slow motion.

  She looked at Keith; he was walking beside her with his head slightly bowed—as if he were already a condemned man. With his left hand he brushed his hair back slightly and she saw that his lips were moving—was that a prayer? In spite of the stress she was feeling and the awfulness of the circumstances, she felt one moment of intense joy. Only God could have changed Keith’s heart after so many years of bitterness and anger, and that was something for which to be joyful; only God could bring something good out of events as tragic as these.

  Something from the past was trying to force its way into Kris’ conscious mind—something her father used to quote, “The Lord has His way in the wind and the whirlwind”—that was the way Jim always quoted it, but as the seconds passed Kris remembered what the text really said, “The Lord has His way in the whirlwind and the storm, and the clouds are as the dust of His feet.” As the verse flooded her mind it gave Kris the courage to pray one final prayer, “Oh Lord, thank You for saving my brother. The Bible says that You have Your way in the whirlwind and in the storm—please have Your way in this ruling today. Please save our country and us, and give me back my husband and my child, and give Jeff back to Karyn and their children. Please restore freedom in this country. In Jesus’ name.” That was all she had time to do—they were now standing in front of the small chamber.

  Julian Cicchetti was waiting for them inside. He shook their hands and motioned for them to be seated. “The ruling will be handed down at 10:00. That is exactly five minutes from now; and the Court will be punctual,” he informed them in a low, seriou
s voice. Julian looked as thoroughly neat and prepared as he had the first day she had walked into his office, but although he was trying hard not to show any emotion, the stress on his face was impossible to hide. He had risked as much on this as she and Keith—except that Julian hadn’t done it to save a family member. He had done what he had done to save Freedom, if it could be saved. He had risked his own life, and possibly the lives of his staff and family, on the outcome of this ruling.

  Only three media outlets were allowed into the chamber; they were already set up and waiting. All of the others were gathered on the Capitol steps awaiting the ruling so that they could transmit it back. Kris wondered how these three earned the honor of being in the room; Keith did not have to wonder—they were the three most consistently in line with the Administration on every issue. Additional security appeared with a new spectator—the Speaker of the House took a seat at the front of the room. He had opened the Court’s chambers for this moment, and he was going to be in the room to hear the ruling.

  “All Rise,” called the bailiff. One by one, each of the nine Justices filed into the chamber. Kris did not remember all of the Justices being present when other decisions were handed down, but then again this was a very historic occasion. For the first time in nearly four years the Court would be issuing a ruling, and all of them wanted to be present when it was read. The familiar call of the official crier was beginning:

  “…All persons having business before the Honorable, the Supreme Court of the United States, are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the Court is now sitting. God save the United States, and this Honorable Court.”

  The Justices were seated, and the Chief Justice began to read, “In the Matter of Kristina Mitchell Linton on behalf of Michael Aaron Linton and Jeffrey Ray Conners vs. The State of Nevada, The United States of America, Homeland Security and The Department of Justice, the United States Supreme Court, on this day, April 2, 2018, finds the following: