Flashpoint (Book 5): Convergence
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Tom set a hand over top of hers on the railing. “The military isn’t the only threat out there,” he said grimly. “And if these guys know about Mercy, we’d better get ready. They’ll be coming.”
Chapter 4
GENERAL MONTGOMERY
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
General Montgomery’s office door flew open and Colonel Walsh barged in unannounced. He gripped a sheet of paper and his face was ashen. “We’ve just gotten confirmation that an assault was successfully launched against FEMA Shelter AZ1 early this morning,” Walsh blurted before setting the report down on Montgomery’s desk.
He glanced down at the memo and noted the familiar handwritten words. Their shortwave radio operator was good at what he did, but his penmanship left a lot to be desired. Pushing it aside, he preferred to get it directly from Walsh. “While we weren’t expecting them to move this soon, it’s not as if it’s a surprise.” Though he outwardly remained unfazed by the news, Montgomery was silently relieved that they’d managed to get the admiral there in time. He had faith that Sergeant Owen successfully completed his mission. He wasn’t the kind of soldier to accept failure.
“Of course we knew something was being planned,” Walsh confirmed, frowning. “Except it was very coordinated. That was in part due to the insurgents being made up of more than just local civilians. We’ve got good intel that it was led by some police officers and even state guardsmen. As a result, we took more casualties than anticipated in the attack.”
“You mean the terrorist attack.”
“Sir?”
Montgomery rested his hands on the top of his desk and leaned forward while leveling a stony gaze at Walsh. “From now on, any communication regarding this incident will refer to it as a terrorist attack. Are we clear?”
“But, sir—”
“Is there a problem, Colonel?” Montgomery growled, his voice getting dangerously loud.
“No, sir.” Walsh cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. “It’s just that some of those men and women involved in the confron—I mean, terrorist attack, were locals. And the National Guard members live in the area, too. People aren’t going to blindly accept that they’re terrorists simply because we say so.”
General Montgomery rose halfway from his leather office chair before slamming his fists down, causing Walsh to jump back. “We’ve gone from a world of instant, constant data exchange, to one where only a handful of people can communicate by tapping out a code!” he spat. “We now control the information both coming and going. It’s never been easier to shape our own reality and because of this, I fully expect the world to believe those terrorists are whoever we say they are.”
“Yes, sir,” Walsh mumbled, shaken. “I’ll go speak with our communications center personally.”
“I can’t stress enough how critical this is,” the general insisted, stopping Walsh from turning away from him. “You know why this battle has to be depicted correctly. Right, Colonel? Admiral Baker must be made into a martyr. Only then can we make it the military’s mission to avenge his death, and close the book on any possible civilian government. Not even the remaining governors or senators can support blatant anarchy.”
Walsh tipped his head questioningly, his face suddenly becoming stoic. “That was my next report, sir. That Vice Admiral Baker might be one of the casualties. It hasn’t been confirmed yet.”
General Montgomery swallowed hard, his face unflinching. The clock ticked from its perch on the wall, confirming the number of seconds the silence stretched as the two men stared at each other across the desk.
“That will be all, Colonel,” Montgomery finally ordered, not feeling the need to justify himself to anyone, not even Walsh. It was better that way.
The colonel hesitated, his eyes narrowing for only a moment as he absorbed the meaning of the exchange and the fact that he wasn’t going to be given an explanation for it. In the end, he did what Montgomery knew he would do; he turned around and walked away to carry out his commander’s orders.
The general allowed him to get as far as the door. “Kelly.”
The other man stopped with his hand on the doorknob, frozen by the rare use of his first name.
“Do you trust me?” Montgomery meant to sound confident and strong in his resolve, but it instead came out as a plea to his longtime friend.
Walsh’s shoulders sagged but he didn’t turn around. “I want to.”
General Montgomery sat rigidly and watched as the colonel walked through the door without another word.
Chapter 5
RUSSELL
Mercy Parish, Mercy, Montana
Russell pulled on the large rope with all of his strength, while marveling at how the late Father White had managed to do it. An ear-splitting clanging surrounded him when he succeeded in his task, and he clenched his teeth as he made sure to ring the church bell the allotted number of times.
Madeline had made it very clear that to summon the congregation, he was to toll the bell seven times, a half-hour before the service. The pianist was proving to be of great assistance. Russell didn’t even know it was going to be Sunday until the night before. She had shown up on his doorstep, still tearful over the news of the passing of her beloved Pastor White.
Happy to invite the friendly woman in, they sat for over an hour discussing exactly how the Father had performed his Sunday mass, to be certain Russell honored his memory. Well, that was the guise he used to refresh his recollection on how the proceedings should be performed.
Thankfully, the memorial service for the pastor wouldn’t be for another three days, though they buried him right away. Madeline insisted she needed the time to prepare a proper commemorative celebration in his honor, and wanted to make sure there was plenty of notice for the community to attend.
Russell slowly made his way down the steep, rickety wooden steps of the bell tower, delaying the inevitable. He could hear people already moving about in the church below him. According to Madeline, they were eager to meet their new, young priest.
The staircase led directly into his office, where Russell stood debating whether to wear the traditional robes or not. While it might give him an additional air of authority in the eyes of his congregation, the fact remained that he wasn’t Catholic, nor had he ever pretended to be. Donning the sacred clothing could be taking his role too far, and one thing Russell comprehended was how important it was to recognize certain limitations. Staying within them while still manipulating everything else around him was how he tended to get whatever he wanted.
A short time later, after the appropriate hymns had been played, he walked out into the sanctuary still dressed in his humble street clothes. Raising his hands to silence the crowd, he stood there for a moment in the pregnant pause, milking it as much as possible. Finally, Russell slowly brought his hands together and peered out at the congregation over his fingertips.
“To my brothers and sisters of Sanctuary, I want to thank you for welcoming me into your home and church. My name is Father Russell Rogers, and I have traveled here…no, I was led here from a great distance. There are no coincidences when it comes to the plans of the universe.” Russell knew how his smooth voice and refined look affected people, and when put into a position of power, it was as dangerous as any weapon. The small nods, quick exchanges of approving looks, and beguiled smiles returned to him were all signs of how his spell was already successfully cast. And he’d only just begun.
“Although I have so much more I want to share with you, I feel strongly that this is not my time to say it. You have all suffered yet another great loss in a string of many, and in honor of Father White, I’m dedicating this service to him and his memory. For that reason, in lieu of a sermon, I’m going to ask Madeline to step out from behind her piano and speak about the man you all loved so dearly.”
Madeline stood with a shocked expression, a hand flying to her throat in what Russell now realized was her frequent gesture of surprise. Blushing furiously,
she rushed to make her way around the piano, her skirt snagging on an edge in the process. Russell stifled a snort as the churchgoers barely avoided more revelations than expected that Sunday.
The expose averted, Madeline enthusiastically spoke of the late priest and his work. As her voiced droned on, Russell was happy to take a seat and block it all out. His mind drifted to the work he was to do that afternoon at the clinic with the lovely Dr. Melissa Olsen. She had invited him to dinner later that week and he was tempted to accept, even though there was no guarantee he’d still be around.
Through his charity work over the past few days, Russell had come to learn just how desperate the water situation was in Mercy. If the leaders had been less concerned about politics, they might have foreseen other issues more clearly. He sighed. It was always the same. Even with a life-altering event, in a small and genuine community like Mercy, the basis of human nature still prevailed. They were lucky he’d arrived when he did.
“Father?”
Russell jerked to attention and looked up to find Madeline staring at him earnestly.
“Father, would you like to close the service?” Her hand at her throat again, Madeline offered him a small smile before returning to her post at the piano.
Standing, Russell reflected on the people seated at his back. His flock, desperate for leadership. Unfortunately for them, he’d be moving on soon. He still had a lot of work to be done outside of Mercy, now that he understood they were to succumb to the same natural consequences as everyone else. Although sometimes nature needed a helping hand.
Turning, Russell raised his hands with a flourish. “Let us pray!”
Chapter 6
PATTY
Outskirts of Mercy, Montana
The sun was already at her back as Patty rode along the familiar country road on the outskirts of Mercy. She’d just left the spring, where she had the pleasure of telling Tane that his daughter was waiting to see him at Miller Ranch. Patty smiled, recalling the expression on the large man’s face. It was a joy most of them didn’t get to experience lately…the reunion with a loved one once thought lost.
Patty was weary after another emotional day and was more than ready to go home, but she had an important stop to make first. Her friend, Kathy, lived by herself and was only a couple of miles out of the way. Though physically active and more than five years younger than Patty, Kathy had recently been diagnosed with an aggressive type of cancer and had undergone her second round of chemotherapy a few days before the flashpoint. Her immune system already weakened, the gamma radiation had nearly killed her, in the cruelest twist of irony. To Melissa’s utter shock, her patient not only survived, but was defying all logic and getting better.
Patty simply chose to call it a miracle. With so many stories of loss and horror, Kathy’s was one that she clung to. It reminded her that the will to live was as equally important as the opportunity. Even though Kathy had every reason to give up, including the fact that her remaining family had died on the East Coast, she chose instead to smile through her misery and come out the other side.
Urging her horse into a trot down the length of Kathy’s long driveway, Patty soaked up the nostalgic scene. The late afternoon sunlight cast warm shadows through the evergreens that lined the gravel road and birds flitted amongst them, chirping as she passed underneath. It was enough to allow Patty a moment of respite, where she could imagine it was the same as any other day she’d gone for a ride to have afternoon tea with her friend. Before they lost so much, but also gained so much insight.
“Patty!”
Patty held a hand up to shield her eyes, and saw that Kathy had come down from her front porch to greet her. She looked good. Reining her horse in, she jumped down and waved a greeting before lifting the bundle down from the back of her saddle. Inside was an assortment of apples, corn, potatoes, and beef jerky. Kathy was one of the lucky few who had a hand pump attached to her well, so she was set for water.
“What a wonderful surprise,” Kathy said as she rushed to give Patty a hug. “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she lamented when Patty held the bag out.
“Of course I should have,” Patty retorted playfully. “There’s a couple of teabags in there, too. The good stuff,” she winked, eliciting gentle laughter from the other woman. “Your color is remarkably good.”
Kathy nodded and raised a hand to her cheek after hefting the bag under her other arm. “I don’t know what it is, Patty, but I feel better than I have in months. I was already planning on going into town tomorrow to help at the farmer’s market you’ve been going on about.”
Patty beamed at her friend, unable to contain her excitement. “It’ll be so great to have you there! I’ll be arriving around mid-morning, after I get caught up on some paperwork at city hall.”
“Perfect.” Kathy opened the front door and then looked back expectantly at Patty. “You’re coming in, aren’t you? I’ll make us some of that tea.”
Patty’s grin faded slightly and she wavered, tempted by the offer. “I wish I could. I really do, but I’m already late getting home. Caleb is still another hour behind me, so if I don’t get going, we won’t be eating dinner tonight.”
Instead of being persistent, Kathy gave her an understanding look and patted the bag under her arm. “Well, then I’ll have to enjoy it by myself, this one time. I fully expect you to come by tomorrow after the market and spend some time chatting with me though. I miss our talks.”
Patty rushed up the front steps and gave Kathy a quick hug, thankful to have someone in her life who could offer some balance to all the craziness. “Absolutely!”
Trotting back down the driveway, the contrast of the trees seemed harsher and the air cooler, as she headed back into her role as mayor, healer, and wife. Patty felt pulled in so many directions that she wasn’t sure what hat she truly wore anymore.
A mile down the road, she studied a small cabin set back in the woods, and had to squint at the sunlight reflecting off the windows. She believed a young man named Joseph currently lived there. Patty didn’t know much about him except that he’d been a long-haul driver who rented the place cheap so he could crash there on the days he wasn’t out on the road. Slowing, she wondered where his semi was, and assumed he must have been driving somewhere close by when the gamma ray struck.
Frowning, Patty considered whether to pay the man a quick visit. She’d seen him going into the only bar, The Last Stop, early the day before. While at the spring, she was told he’d never shown up for his shift that morning. It infuriated her that a young, able-bodied man had the energy to go into town to drink but not to pitch in and help out where he was needed.
Her good mood already precarious, Patty decided to let it go and have Caleb talk to him the next day instead. However, as she started back down the road, Joseph’s horse came trotting around the side of his house and halfway out to where she was.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Patty muttered, turning around. It was bad enough that he wasn’t pulling his weight in town, but he couldn’t even take care of his own animal?
Fortunately, the mare wasn’t skittish, and she stood quietly as Patty took ahold of the bridle and led her around the cabin. She had no idea where the gate to the pasture was, but figured it was back behind the house somewhere. She would put the horse out in the field and then give Joseph an earful.
The side yard was badly overgrown and was likely that way long before the power went out. Garbage was piled up alongside the house, and Patty grimaced at the smell and batted flies away as she walked past. Most people had taken to either burning or burying their garbage. Leaving it out like that would only lead to a rodent problem, or even lure a bear into the neighborhood.
Her list of complaints growing, Patty’s steps picked up steam along with her indignation. By the time she rounded the corner and found his body, her face was burning with anger. The heat in her cheeks rapidly faded, as well as the color, and Patty’s hand fell from the bridle to clasp instead at her chest.
A small gasp escaped Patty’s lips as a torrent of emotions welled up inside of her. She’d seen plenty of death, both as a nurse and more recently as mayor. That wasn’t what stole her breath and made her blood run cold. It was the knowledge that Joseph, a strong and able man of barely thirty, had lost so much hope that he’d been driven to take his own life.
There was a note in the dirt by his foot, but it was splattered with blood and she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up. Probably best to leave it for the sheriff, anyway. Thinking about the ride back into town caused another emotion to override the rest: shame.
Dropping to her knees, Patty looked away from the once-handsome man, and instead focused on the late-afternoon light in the field. Insects danced in the hazy glare and the silence was so complete that she could hear her heartbeat. It reminded Patty that she was still alive, and that perhaps she’d lost some of her focus amongst all the concern of what others were thinking of her decisions as mayor.
A sob escaped her then, and Patty nearly choked on the realization that she’d failed Joseph. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into the silence. She felt no resentment toward the young man, only sorrow.
Forcing herself to look at him, Patty sucked in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, Joseph. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you why you never came to the barbeques. I noticed that you always walked with your head down, and were drinking alone in the middle of the day, but I never cared enough to wonder why.”
Slowly, Patty staggered to her feet and reached back blindly for the horse that was still there, waiting patiently. She thought of her friend Kathy. Alone in the world and dying of cancer, she managed to find the strength to not only live, but love life, while a young man with so much potential gave up.