by Conti, Gene;
I pulled into the parking lot at ICC and saw our ‘school’ bus running and ready to go with the courtesy lights on inside and out. It was an impressive new monster Prevost with a tag axle. Nice! Immaculate Conception College was painted in beautiful script on the side, as well as our mascot—a knight on a white charger—and logo—the Crusaders. The paint job was exquisite. Brother Francis stood outside the passenger door with Fred.
“Where’s Cindy?” I asked Fred as I walked up and shook their hands. Fred’s hand felt like an icebox.
“She’s inside at the rear, napping, where it’s warm. Why Brother Francis and I are out here freezing our bippies off, I don’t know.”
“Let her sleep,” I replied. “She probably worked both her jobs yesterday. Hey, who’s watching your kids?”
“Her mom said she’d do it so we could get away by ourselves.”
“Get away? Hopefully our ‘kids’ will not be a chore for you guys.”
“Hey, Doc,” Brother Francis entered the conversation, “the scuttlebutt was that the trip was going to be cancelled, and possibly your class as well. How did you turn that around?”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
THE DEAN
“Trust me I had nothing to do with it. When I arrived at Dean Avery’s office, Dietrich was there. Why did I suspect his hand was involved in it?”
“Rich Avery is a tough straight shooter,” Fred injected. “I’m sure he didn’t let Dietrich push him around. Do you know his background?”
“I believe he was a West Pointer. I saw his class ring when I was first introduced to him by Father Flanagan.”
“He was a Heisman Trophy winner his senior year at the Academy,” Francis added. “And Ebony magazine named him Black Athlete of the Year.”
“And Time magazine had him on the cover a few years later as Renaissance Man of the Year. Did you fellas know that?” Fred mentioned while shivering in his lightweight Columbia jacket. “I thought it was supposed to get up close to seventy today.”
“Perhaps, after the sun comes up,” I chided him. “For now, it’s still pitch-dark out, and we are on the top of a mountain; it is probably close to freezing.” I deliberately exhaled to show my breath forming a cloud of condensation in front of Fred.
“Fred, I didn’t know about the Renaissance Man thing. What’s that about?”
“Doc, the guy also has a gift for languages. He is fluent in at least four tongues that I know of. And he can read and write in those, equally as well.”
I started to think out loud. “I seem to recall seeing some military commendations and plaques on the wall of his office from Iraq and Afghanistan. Ah, now I see. Father Flanagan—military and CIA, Avery—military, languages … does Rich Avery speak Arabic?”
“I believe he does,” Francis said, stroking his goatee.
“And how does Dean Avery know Father Ed?” I asked, posing the question to both Fred and Francis.
We all looked at each other and concluded that they must know each other somehow from “the Company,” which must have been the common denominator.
“That explains why Avery didn’t take any guff from Dietrich when I was the one suppose to be on the hot seat.”
“Yeah, Avery’s not going to be harassed by some pencil-necked geek bureaucrat,” Francis adamantly added.
“So, what was Dietrich accusing you of?” Fred, still shivering asked. It appeared that his lips were turning blue.
“Some gobbledygook about lying to the kids in class about evolution and Mother Gaia, which is a social injustice. That I’m being intolerant of alternative lifestyles and that I claimed there are absolute truths. Dean Avery let him drone on a while about his being personally offended.”
“I heard that Father Flanagan and Dr. Mercurio showed up,” Brother Francis declared, anxious to hear the juicy parts.
“Yeah, and both of them were hot under the collar. Dorothy was standing, rocking back and forth on those sneakers of hers. Father Ed had his stone face on, standing legs astride and his arms crossed.”
“Did they say anything?” Francis probed.
“Not until Dietrich started castigating me using ad hominem attacks regarding my teaching against millions of years and accusing me of personally assailing the ‘heart of Mother Gaia.’”
Fred, almost dancing around to warm up, stated, “Typical leftist crap. They can never defend their points straight on and always stoop to personal insults, eventually.”
“That’s when the proverbial s**t hit the fan in Avery’s office. Father Flanagan and Dr. Mercurio let Dietrich have it with both barrels—verbally that is. I really thought Dorothy was going to kick Dietrich in the family jewels, she was so mad.”
Francis and Fred both had a good belly laugh, knowing that Dorothy was perfectly capable of doing it, too. I chuckled along with them.
“So, what did Dean Avery say?” Francis pushed for a response.
“Actually not much. He comes on like a mild-mannered Dr. Ben Carson, the cerebral type. But then he responds like a Donald Trump when either he, or one of his faculty family, is attacked.”
“So, what did he do, what did he do?” Francis asked, getting very animated.
“Well, after he read him the riot act, Avery literally grabbed Dietrich by the collar and the seat of his khaki pants and ‘escorted’ him out of his office, under a stream of protests from Dietrich, while his Birkenstocks were dragging across the carpet. It was what Dietrich said that made me very uncomfortable.”
“What did Dietrich say?” Fred inquired.
“First, Dean Avery made it clear to Dietrich that this was a Catholic institution that abided by Christian biblical principles, and that he was not going to compromise those principles for political ends, and that’s when he forcefully grabbed him.”
“A-a-and t-t-then?” Fred’s teeth were chattering.
“As Dietrich was being escorted out, he was saying something to the effect that ‘this was not going to be a Christian college much longer. That Washington would make sure of that.’”
The eastern predawn sky was just starting to lighten and the clouds were breaking up.
“Hey, Brother Francis, I think we better get Fred onto the bus, before he turns into a block of ice.”
“Good idea. I see some of the students’ headlights pulling into the lot now, anyway.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
BLUESHIRTS
The Prevost is the Cadillac of buses and RVs, and the investors, again, did not spare any expense when it came to customizing that one. The seats were all akin to being in a first class cabin of a jetliner, two per row, with the aisle in-between. The seats fully reclined and had a button to inflate the headrest to create your own personalized pillow.
There was even a flat console with retractable cup holders that gave adequate room between each pair of seats so there was no bumping of elbows. The back of the seat in front of each passenger had a recessed flat Insta-Screen with a USB drive for streaming devices. The entire seat back could fold down to create a work desk, with individualized adjustable LED lighting surrounding the work area’s periphery, so not as to disturb the passenger next to you.
Part of the reason for so much spacious comfort was that the unit was custom designed with only thirty-six seats. This unit had a bathroom that rivaled any high-end RV. There was even a small kitchenette with a stocked frig at the back with bottled water and soft drinks.
Tom was the last to board, as he was usually late. We crept out of the parking lot at 7:15 AM without Jude. Matt said he decided not to come at the last minute.
Fred and I were seated in the last row at the rear and were talking quietly while Cindy slept across the aisle from us with a blanket covering her. The sun’s rays were now peeking over the mountaintops. Most of the students had their side window curtains pulled down and were napping. A few were playing with their cell phones.
The Prevost was rolling down the main college road toward the palatial bricked entrance of ICC. We hadn’
t even arrived at the entrance circle when Brother Francis slammed on the brakes, which jolted everyone from their seat. I thought maybe a deer jumped in front of the bus. Everyone was now wide awake.
Brother Francis turned in his driver seat and called to me, “Doc, you better come up here.”
I walked to the front of the bus as Brother Francis was apologizing for hitting the brakes so abruptly. “They just jumped out on the road in front of me, I could have killed them.”
I looked out the massive windshield to see two of Erik’s Blueshirts standing only a few feet in front of the bus, one with his hands on his hips and the other like a crossing guard with his arm and hand extended demanding us to stop.
There were bushes on both sides of the road in front of the bus that they apparently had jumped out from behind. Erik must be insane, I thought, willing to literally sacrifice these men for Dietrich’s cause. Hoping also, that if we had injured or killed these men, the trip would have ended on the spot.
Then, from out of the foggy shadows, on the grassy sides of the road further down the lane, Erik and his band emerged and walked toward us as rays of sunlight filtered through the mist and trees, sporadically illuminating the group as they walked.
They formed a semicircle in front of the bus about fifteen or twenty feet away. All had holstered sidearms. I’ve never seen that before on the campus. Five of them had, what appeared to me, to be M4 automatic rifles. Where did they get those?
Erik approached the door of the bus and proceeded to take his wooden nightstick and beat on the window. “Open up,” he commanded.
I nodded to Brother Francis to open the door as I walked down the steps, but remained inside.
“And how can I help you on this bright crisp morning, Erik?”
His piercing blue eyes cutting through me with spite and malice, he stated, “Turn the bus around at the circle and return to the main campus. You have no authority to leave.”
“Erik, what are you talking about? This trip has been approved by administration for over a month now. Would you care to see the papers?” I’m flashbacking to some of the old World War II movies when the Gestapo was running around demanding ‘papers, papers’ from everyone.
Still in his driver’s seat, Brother Francis hollered out, “Let me get out and kick his butt.”
“Your paperwork has been rescinded,” Erik snidely remarked.
“How’s that? Who has countermanded the administration’s permission?” I forcefully demanded.
“The United States Government!” Erik exclaimed, almost spitting the words in my face. He stood firm with his feet apart and slowly smacking his billy club on the palm of his left hand.
Obviously Dietrich was behind it all, but I played along with Erik. “And why is the United States Government so interested in a school bus trip?”
“Because you’re using this trip for proselytizing purposes. Your trip itinerary includes stops at Christian religious themed parks and museums. Is that not so?” He interrogated, continuing to beat his hand red with his stick. “You need special government permission to pull a stunt like that, and I don’t think you’ll get it.” Erik had a devilish smile on his face.
“So if I understand you correctly Erik, with the new Freedom of Worship rules, we are free to talk about religious subjects here at ICC or at the museums; it’s just that we can’t get from here to there. Am I correct?”
“That’s about the size of it, unless of course, you have Scotty teleport your bus to the museums.” He looked at his crew, and they all started to laugh derisively at us.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
THE SOLUTION
The students were getting a practical lesson in revised constitutional law, specifically the Bill of Rights. Most of them never understood the phrase inalienable rights. That these were God ordained and could never be revoked by man. But since there was no God, due to Darwin, government dictated the rights in our new Age of Enlightenment.
Tom said, “Jefferson’s words have come to pass; ‘When governments fear the people, there is liberty. When people fear the government, there is tyranny.’” He then subsequently turned and blindly stared out his window, apparently deep in thought.
“I’m going to make a call,” I told Erik, as I walked back up the bus stairs and nodded at Brother Francis to close the door.
We all heard Erik boisterously call out, “Make all the calls you want, but don’t attempt to leave. Once you cross the entrance to the public road, we have orders to shoot—and we will.” He smacked his wooden baton against the door window a few more times as a final warning.
As I passed by Brother Francis, I saw the anger and frustration on his face, as well as on the students’ faces. “What are we going to do?” I heard him say. Others added their embittered comments, as well.
I sat next to Fred; he looked at me depressed, shaking his head.
“I’m calling Father Flanagan at his personal number. I’m sure he’ll have some solution to this mess.” I had Father Ed on speed dial. His number only rang twice before he answered.
“Joe, I wasn’t expecting you to call so soon. You lads get a flat tire or something?”
“It’s more of an ‘or something’ problem we have.” And I proceeded to explain the situation to him.
He was silent for about ten seconds, as I know his brain was conjuring up a viable solution. Then I heard him laughing to himself. I wished he’d let me in on it.
He then proceeded to give me the solution. “Yes … yes … good … excellent … okay then.” I hung up.
Fred was all over me. “What did he say? Is the trip still on?”
Cindy was wide awake, leaning across the aisle, listening in on the action.
I told Fred and Cindy, “You guys are going to love this. Can’t believe I didn’t realize this myself. Piece of cake.”
I got up, and walked back up to the front, leaving Fred and Cindy puzzled as to what was going to happen.
All the students’ eyes were on me as I passed by them. I nodded at Brother Francis, and he opened the door again. I moved down to the bottom step. Erik was standing there at the roadside with the same devilish smile he wore when I left him. He was now rotating the club in his left hand.
“Erik, I believe we left off discussing the nuances of the new Freedom of Worship amendment and how it applies to only government-approved locations.”
“Yeah, so what?” He caustically remarked, as he pounded the baton into his left hand again.
“I just had an enlightening conversation with Father Flanagan and—”
“That old sot of a so-called priest; he’s all washed up.” Erik rudely remarked.
I was ready to pound Erik into the ground myself at that point. I heard Brother Francis start to get up from his seat. I put my arm back behind me and waved for him to sit down.
“Anyway, the ‘old sot’ as you call him, mentioned that when the United States Government approved our charter as a college, it included all buildings and properties of this institution. The tractors, repair trucks, security vans, and buses were included as property. In this case rolling property. This bus is still ICC ground!”
Erik’s eyes got as large as saucers, and his face, since his complexion was so fair, turned steamy red. His jaw tightened, as his eyes then drew down to a hostile and hateful squint.
“Oh and by the way, firing on any vehicle outside of the campus grounds is beyond your jurisdiction. Homeland Security would need to be notified in addition to the local Front Royal Police. Have a nice day.”
Brother Francis slammed the door in Erik’s face. I then proceeded to walk to the back to the cheers of the students. Brother Francis put the Prevost in gear and the massive heavy-duty Volvo diesel engine wound up as we started to roll.
The kids’ faces were glued to the windows, mugging and laughing at Erik and his Blueshirts as we passed them by.
Erik’s men were completely bewildered and perplexed as to what had just occurred. Erik screamed at them to l
et us by. Those who were not moving fast enough got a taste of Erik’s nightstick.
As we rounded the circle just prior to making our escape out the grand entrance of the college, I saw Erik bent over thrashing the asphalt with his baton—still screaming.
TO BE CONTINUED….
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Coming Soon:
Satan’s Gambit – Book Two
The Forces of Darkness Unleashed