Convergence

by Frank L. Williams

  www.AftertheRepublicBooks.com

  Frank L. Williams

  Copyright © 2017 Frank L. Williams

  All rights reserved.

  Convergence.

  noun con·ver·gence kən-ˈvər-jən(t)s .

  1. The occurrence of two or more things coming together; 2. The act of converging and especially moving toward union or uniformity.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  With sincere and heartfelt gratitude for those who helped pave the way for Convergence:

  God, who endowed me with a creative mind and a knack for the written word.

  My parents, Ike and the late Martha Williams, who expected me to be a good student from day one and who instilled in me a love for America and an appreciation for our freedoms.

  Lori, who provided a more-than-welcome distraction and delayed the release of this book by stepping into my life, saying “Yes” when I asked for her hand in marriage, and saying “I Do” at the altar.

  The teachers under whom I studied at Cape Fear Baptist Church Christian School, Lincoln Primary School, Leland Middle School and North Brunswick High School.

  James Shoemaker, Jay Strickland and Andy Yates, who read initial drafts of Convergence and helped refine it.

  Amy Bliss Hall of AB Squared Design, who designed the Convergence cover and social media graphics.

  Mary Fonvielle, my editor. Her insights have made this a better book, and I look forward to working with her on future projects.

  Jonathan Harding, a Pioneer Strategies Fall 2017 Communication intern from the University of North Carolina Wilmington, for his proofreading assistance.

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  Chapter 1

  Monday, October 8, 2018 – 11:30 a.m. – Fontana Dam, N.C.

  Joshua Winston’s mind wandered as he leaned back against the boulder, admiring the ornate patchwork of yellow, bright orange and red foliage on the mountainside below. Only a few wispy clouds graced the otherwise clear blue sky, and the usual mountain breeze was nowhere to be found. Joshua removed his faded red N.C. State Wolfpack cap that featured a strutting wolf logo, revealing short, black hair that was highlighted by an increasing number of gray specks and streaks. He scratched his head and returned the cap to its prior position, then picked up a small branch and began whittling the bark off with his knife as he contemplated the turbulent events of the past year and a half.

  Twenty months had passed since a series of devastating terrorist attacks had brought America to its knees. Nearly two years since I led my friends to this mountain camp to escape the chaos, Joshua thought. Since Rebecca and I have seen our beloved farm. He fought back a tear as he thought about their Chatham County farmhouse, his dream home, where he had hoped to enjoy a quiet retirement from politics with the love of his life. No such luck.

  Joshua thought he had put politics and civic leadership in his past after he had chosen not to seek re-election to the State House. He had neither expected or planned to be in a leadership role again, and had only reluctantly assumed the mantle of leadership after the terrorist attacks forced his hand. That reluctance was now also a thing of the past.

  Joshua and his wife, Rebecca, had been watching newly inaugurated President Alan Wagner’s State of the Union address with friends at their farmhouse when the first nuclear attacks happened 20 months ago. Wagner’s election had given Joshua great hope for a turnaround in America. Those hopes had been shattered by the attacks, which decimated Washington, D.C. and eleven other U.S. cities, killing President Wagner and most of the nation’s leadership. An electromagnetic pulse weapon had wiped out the digital infrastructure in San Jose and Silicon Valley, and the aftermath of a dirty bomb detonation had killed thousands in Cincinnati. The terrorist group calling itself American Islamic State, or AIS, had left the United States a mere pale reflection of what was once a shining city on a hill. The nation Joshua so dearly loved had been decimated.

  In the wake of the attacks, Joshua had organized and led a group of friends on a treacherous move to Fontana Dam in North Carolina’s Great Smoky Mountains, where they had established the camp in which they still lived. The trip included two scrapes with armed bandits. Without the leadership of Command Sergeant Major Bob Kendall, they might never have made it to the camp.

  Joshua and the others were fortunate that Thomas Page had allowed them to establish the camp on his land along the shore of Fontana Lake. Thanks to the camp’s proximity to the dam, Thomas’ inside connections had helped them maintain electrical power as much of the country’s grid faded to black. Camp member Caroline Edwards, a cyber-security and computer guru who had worked for Securitas Systems in Research Triangle Park, had utilized her expertise to help Joshua access a satellite television signal. While he was grateful for the connection and the opportunity to stay informed, he and the others had been horrified by what they had seen on the news.

  The American people had been wholly unprepared to survive in the aftermath of the attacks. Hunger had reached epidemic proportions, as grocery stores were cut off from their supply chains and few Americans had the knowledge or skills to grow or hunt their own food. This, combined with the abrupt halt in government benefits and the collapse of the nation’s financial network, had left millions desperate for food. Widespread looting ensued, and grocery stores – especially those in urban areas -- were out of food within days. Once store shelves had been pillaged, homes were robbed -- not by people looking for money or electronics, but by people scavenging for something to eat.

  America spiraled into widespread violence and hunger that overwhelmed state and local governments and law enforcement. The death toll from unrest and starvation was as incomprehensible as the number of lives snuffed out by the terrorist attacks, reaching into the tens of millions. People who owned weapons used them to defend their homes and food supplies against equally well-armed intruders. As most local law enforcement agencies faded into oblivion, agents with the U.S. Department of Homeland Security Federal Protective Service had stepped in to fill the void, especially in urban areas. Twenty months later, they were still in place and were acting as a federal police force accountable only to President Nelson Armando.

  In Texas, Arizona and New Mexico, Mexican drug cartels had taken advantage of the chaos to seize control of the southern border. In many cases the remnants of local law enforcement and National Guard personnel were split between defending the border and sparring with Homeland Security police.

  Street gangs had claimed control of large chunks of territory in urban areas. In Texas and Arizona gangs were battling drug cartels for control of many cities’ streets. The Texas National Guard had prevented the cartels from advancing north past San Antonio. In the remnants of New York and Chicago the gangs’ primary opposition was newly emboldened organized crime.

  AIS had made good on its threats to launch ground attacks on American soil. The first came in Philadelphia, where they had seized control of a large chunk of the city, destroyed the Liberty Bell in a mainly symbolic victory and raised an Islamic flag over the city hall. The terrorist group was eventually defeated – not by local law enforcement or the American military, but by a well-organized, well-armed street gang that wanted the city for itself. AIS had continued a steady stream of attacks in the ensuing months.

  As Joshua had watched the carnage unfold on the television, he had grown increasingly thankful for his decision to lead Rebecca and their friends to Fontana Dam. The area was fairly remote, and the locals were tough and resilient. While much of America had descended into chaos, the people in Fontana Dam, Bryson City, Robbinsville and other nearby communities had demonstr
ated remarkable proficiency in developing their own food supply and barter system economy. The nation had become more stable in recent months, sadly due to the deaths of many who were unable to hunt or grow their own food.

  No matter how remote the location or how tough its residents, they had not been immune from the chaos. Joshua felt his jaw tighten as he thought back to a horrific day eight months ago. On that day, one full year after the initial round of terrorist attacks, Joshua had stared evil in the face. He and his friends, Perry Edwards and Jack McGee, had been captured by American Islamic State terrorists only a few miles from the camp. They had been forced to watch as the terrorists brutally beheaded two innocent hostages. In a church. Joshua’s veins bulged as he violently slammed his knife into the log beside him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then yanked the knife out of the log. They had barely escaped with their lives that day, thanks to the help of some locals enlisted by fellow camp member Drew Thompson. Unfortunately, Bob Kendall had died a gruesome death at the hands of the terrorists.

  A switch had flipped somewhere deep inside Joshua’s being on that gruesome day eight months ago. He was no longer hesitant. He was determined. He was angry – but he still lacked clarity on where to focus his energy.

  Thankfully, things in this remote corner of the North Carolina mountains, near Fontana Dam, had been quiet since that day eight months ago – but Joshua knew that the threat posed by the terrorist group that called itself American Islamic State, or AIS, was still very much alive. Unfortunately, AIS was not the only threat Americans faced.

  President Nelson Armando, who had taken office shortly after President Alan Wagner’s death during the attack on Washington, seemed more intent on controlling American citizens than fighting the terrorists, and his enforcers came in the form of federal Homeland Security Police, also known as the Federal Protective Service. President Armando’s apparent ambivalence toward the war against AIS was mind-boggling to Joshua, especially in light of the fact that the First Lady had been moved to a secure, off-the-grid location because of direct threats against her and the president. Our country is gone. Joshua heaved a deep sigh. It’s every man for himself. Where do we go from here?

  Joshua instinctively reached for his sidearm when he heard footsteps on the trail. The stranger’s eyes narrowed for a moment as they made eye contact. The man nodded, but kept his eyes focused on Joshua as he passed. You’ve got to be more alert, Joshua thought. He was on top of you before you knew it. On any other trip up the mountain his beagle-bulldog mix, Reagan, would have alerted him to the man’s presence well in advance. Today Reagan was holed up in the cabin nursing a paw that had been injured in an altercation with a wayward possum. Joshua smirked; the encounter had proved fatal for the possum.

  Joshua closed his eyes for a moment, deeply inhaling the cool mountain air. He relished his trips up the mountain to think and reflect in solitude, away from the demands of being the camp’s leader. He also felt safe here. Too safe? he wondered. I can’t get complacent. His ears alerted him to more footsteps. He opened his eyes and nodded as a man and woman passed on the trail, both wearing backpacks. A side effect of the camp being located so close to the Appalachian Trail was that he had seen more and more people in the past few weeks, a fact he hoped would not compromise the security of their location. The camp’s security team had stepped up its efforts after traffic on the trail began to pick up, but thus far the strangers seemed to be nothing more than innocent hikers. He did not recognize the people he had just seen, and had no idea whether they were just passing through or were here for other reasons. It would be tempting to overreact to the strangers’ presence, but that would only serve to unnecessarily arouse suspicion.

  After the sojourners passed Joshua again closed his eyes, hoping for another moment of quiet. That hope was shattered when the rumble of a distant boom reached his ears. Off in the distance a thick, dark plume of smoke was billowing toward the heavens. So much for peace and quiet.

  Joshua retrieved the brass Stanley London spyglass telescope from his backpack. He extended the telescope, which was just over six inches long when collapsed, to its full 18-inch length and zoomed in on the source of the smoke. As the scene came into focus he saw a small barn beside the burning remnants of what he assumed had been a farmhouse. A spark of anger shot through him as he spotted three shadowy figures in black robes dragging a man across the dirt. AIS. Joshua instinctively un-holstered his Beretta 9mm and aimed it at one of the hooded figures before realizing the terrorists were well out of range. He re-holstered the pistol and again peered through the telescope. Joshua felt his blood boil as the terrorists forced the man to his knees. He closed the telescope when one of the militants unsheathed a large knife. I saw enough beheadings for a lifetime at that church. There’s nothing I can do from this far away. Joshua closed his eyes and said a prayer for the man. He shuddered as he started down the mountain. Two years earlier, he would have fretted about the fact that he couldn’t do anything to help the man. Now, he understood he could only do so much. Protecting Rebecca was his first priority, followed by the others in the camp.

  The trip down the trail seemed to take longer than usual. Joshua swallowed hard as he reached the edge of the clearing – the same clearing in which, eight months earlier, Reagan had twice gone on high alert, fixating on some mysterious, unknown point on the mountainside. After eight months passed without anything out of the ordinary happening on the trail, Joshua assumed it had been a false alarm. That sense of security had been shattered a week earlier, when the vigilant canine again alerted on some unknown threat on the mountainside.

  Joshua put his hand in his pocket to make sure his Beretta was readily accessible, then dropped to one knee and scanned the mountainside with his telescope. Nothing, he thought. I’d sure feel safer if my dog was here. Joshua kept his hand near his Beretta as he crossed the clearing without incident. As he rounded a curve into a more thickly wooded part of the trail he spotted a young man seated on a rock. The man, who appeared to be in his mid-20s, was more than slightly overweight and had hair trimmed so close to his scalp that it was barely visible. He wore a pair of wrinkled cargo shorts, a white t-shirt that featured a bright yellow smiley face with a bullet hole in the forehead and was at least two sizes too small, and sported the thickest pair of glasses Joshua had ever seen. That’s a strange looking individual, he thought, keeping his hand near his pistol as he stepped to the opposite side of the trail. I think he can see the future with those glasses.

  The man started swaying from front to back, focused a creepy stare on Joshua and let out a high-pitched “eeeeeeeeee!” He repeated the “eeeeeeeeee!” over and over as Joshua passed.

  Somebody left the asylum doors open. Joshua smirked as he passed, trying not to make eye contact. That guy’s just not sane. The “eeeeeeeeee!” stopped as soon as Joshua rounded a curve out of the man’s sight.

  That was weird, Joshua thought. He turned back and looked around the curve, briefly making eye contact with the man. “Eeeeeeeeee!” The strange sound again stopped as soon as the man was out of Joshua’s line of sight.

  Joshua shook his head and chuckled as he continued down the trail toward the camp. As he rounded another curve he spotted another man, this one seated on a log. The man had scraggly white hair and a white beard and moustache peppered with splotches of black. Another one? Joshua sighed and stepped to the far side of the trail.

  The man whittled a piece of wood as he looked up at Joshua and flashed a grin. “How you doin’ there, sonny?” He sported a denim conductor’s cap, bib overalls and a red-and-white checkered long-sleeve shirt. “Name’s Mordecai Stone.”

  “Fine,” Joshua answered. I think the circus bus got lost up here today.

  “You’re not as good as you think, son,” Mordecai said.

  “Ohhhhhkay.” Joshua walked past without making eye contact, hoping to get around the next curve and out of sight before the crazy old man spoke again.

  “You folks think you’
ve got a good thing going in your little camp, but you can’t hide down there forever.”

  A chill shot down Joshua’s spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “History will come knocking on your doorstep, sonny. You can’t avoid it. And you’ve got a mole in your little camp. Not everyone there is on your side.”

  “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Joshua kept walking.

  “You’ll find out in due time,” the man said. “And it was a shame about your Sergeant Major. Kendall was a good fellow.”

  Joshua felt the hair stand up on his neck. He froze for a moment, then drew his Beretta and spun to face Mordecai. “What did you say?”

  The man was gone. Nowhere to be seen. Joshua scanned the area around the log where Mordecai had been seated, but saw no sign of the strange old man.

  “Who are you?” Joshua called out. “Where are you? Show yourself!” Nothing.

  Weapon drawn, Joshua went back up the trail in search of Mordecai. He found no sign of the man’s presence apart from shavings from the stick he had been whittling. Joshua gritted his teeth. How could he just disappear? After he rounded a couple of curves he heard “Eeeeeeeeee!” Well, at least I know that guy’s still here. As soon as he left the young man’s line of sight, there was silence. Joshua stopped and chuckled, then looked around the curve. “Eeeeeeeeee!” That one’s a few bricks shy of a full load. The noise again stopped as Joshua made his way back down the trail. Bizarre. There was still no sign of Mordecai.

  Upon reaching the camp entrance Joshua concealed himself behind a bush. The gravity of everything he just seen settled onto his shoulders as he surveyed the mountainside and trail with his telescope. AIS had just launched another attack, here in Western North Carolina, where Joshua had led his friends to escape the mayhem. Now this strange man claimed that there was a mole in the camp. Joshua would have discounted the man as a lunatic if not for his disturbingly accurate reference to Bob Kendall. We must find out who this Mordecai is and how he knows so much about us.