Convergence

by Frank L. Williams

  “Everyone just stay calm,” Joshua said.

  Two male agents in black uniforms approached the vehicle as it came to a stop and Thomas rolled down his window.

  One of the agents held up a photograph. “We’re looking for this man. Have any of you seen him or do you know of his whereabouts?”

  Thomas leaned out the window. “Man, he doesn’t look familiar to me. Mind if I show the other fellas the picture?”

  The officer handed Thomas the photo, and he passed it to Joshua. “Do any of y’all know this fella?”

  Joshua clenched his teeth as he stared at the photograph of Drew Thompson. He hesitated for a moment. “No… I, ummm… I don’t know him.”

  “Are you sure?” The officer leaned in.

  I hope I didn’t give us away, Joshua thought, then answered. “I’m sure, officer.” He turned and looked at Jack and Perry, who were in the back seat. “How about you guys?”

  “No, but he looks like a tool,” Perry said.

  “Don’t know him,” Jack said.

  Joshua could feel the officer’s eyes focused on him. We’re done for, he thought. After a moment the officer backed away from the vehicle and motioned for them to pass. Joshua exhaled a deep sigh of relief as they rounded the next curve. “I thought they were on to us.”

  “It’s a good thing you don’t play poker for a living.” Perry pointed out the right window. “Check this guy out. Heck of a place for a panhandler.”

  Joshua looked and spotted an old man with scraggly white hair, a white beard and moustache seated on a log beside the road. He was attired in bib overalls and a red-and-white checkered long-sleeve shirt and wore a denim conductor’s cap. The man made eye contact with Joshua, held up a hand-written cardboard sign that read “Will work for ammo” and flashed a grin. Mordecai!

  Jack leaned forward and pointed at Mordecai. “It’s that crazy old man from up on the mountain! Let’s stop and take him to camp!”

  “Not here,” Joshua said. “We’re too close to the checkpoint.”

  Jack leaned back in his seat and sighed. “You’re right. But I’d love to question him.”

  “How did that turn out last time, tough guy?” Perry sneered.

  “Very funny,” Jack answered. “I didn’t see you up there. Next time, get out of your camper and come up there with us.”

  Joshua shook his head and again made eye contact with Mordecai. When he did, the old man flipped his sign over to reveal a second message: “You still have a mole.” Joshua bit his lip as the old man flashed a grin and faded in the rear-view mirror.

  As they rounded a curve three miles down the road, Joshua’s eyes were drawn to the right shoulder. He pointed.

  “What in the world?” Perry asked.

  “I don’t know, but it could be bait.” Jack drew his Glock .40 and rested it on his thigh.

  “Bait?” Thomas asked.

  “Bait to get us to stop,” Jack said. “Just like the burning truck.”

  As the vehicle slowed Joshua’s mind flashed back to a scene he recalled from eight months earlier on this very road. He, Perry and Jack had stumbled onto a burning vehicle on their way back from the community market. When they stopped to investigate they were ambushed and taken hostage. Joshua shuddered. They had come within an inch of being beheaded by the AIS terrorists who had captured them.

  Joshua rolled down the passenger window as the Suburban approached the strange sight on the roadside.

  “What the hell?” Perry said. “That’s a bit on the sick side.”

  As the vehicle came to a stop Joshua silently stared at the bodies of five dead terrorists. The corpses were still clothed in the black robes that AIS militants typically wore. The bodies were riddled with bullet holes and each one had what appeared to be a knife wound in the abdomen. A pig’s foot protruded from each dead terrorist’s mouth, and a severed pig head sat atop the pile of bodies.

  “Somebody wanted to make a statement,” Jack said.

  “A pretty warped statement,” Joshua said. “Get us the hell out of here.”

  Thomas gunned the Suburban and they sped away from the twisted pile of terrorist carnage.

  ***

  1345 – Camp Lejeune

  General Cloos spat loudly into a Styrofoam cup as the video screen on the conference room wall flared to life. Colonel Brookhart was seated across the table. After a moment Major Chinn appeared on the screen.

  “What’s the latest, Major?” Cloos again spat into the cup.

  We are still at the cabin you secured in Fontana Village, Chinn answered. The people in this area seem to be holding their own. Fontana Dam is still operational. Today we visited a community market where citizens trade goods. The market was active, and people seem to be getting by. We were even able to barter for several cans of gasoline. Some of the infrastructure is beginning to show wear and tear, but all in all the folks people here are hanging in there.

  “What about the reports of an increased AIS presence in the area?”

  There have been several reports of recent AIS attacks in the surrounding area, Chinn said. Within the past week there have also been reports of locals standing up to AIS. At least two attacks have been thwarted, and whoever stopped them seems to be intent on making a statement.

  “What kind of statement?”

  Well, they stopped an attack in Bryson City, killed all of the terrorists and hung their bodies from signposts outside the town. Here in Fontana, we’ve heard reports of authorities finding a pile of dead terrorists with pigs’ feet stuck in their mouths and a severed hog head on top of the pile.

  Cloos chuckled. “Then whoever stopped these attacks sound like my kind of people.”

  Maybe so, sir, but there is also a strong Homeland Security presence in the area, Chinn said. Based on what we’ve seen from the Armando administration, my guess is that the Homeland Security Police will focus on stopping what they view as ‘vigilante justice.’

  Cloos leaned back and cupped his chin in his hands. After a few moments of silence he cocked an eyebrow. “It sounds like we have some people with passion to fight these terrorists, but they need training. See if you can find out who they are.”

  Yes, sir.

  “One more thing,” Cloos said. “Homeland Security is after someone named Drew Thompson. They think he is in that area.”

  Who is he?

  “They are trying to connect him to the attack that killed the governors, but I don’t buy it. Based on our research he is a former Chief of Staff to the Speaker of the State House in North Carolina. While you’re there, see if you can find this Drew Thompson.”

  What do you want me to do if I find him?

  “Keep him safe.”

  Yes sir. Chinn looked away from the camera for a moment. What about Miss Blanchard?

  “You keep her out of harm’s way as well,” Cloos said. “We are in a whole new world, and we need every bit of help we can get.”

  Yes, sir. Chinn looked away and pursed his lips.

  ***

  2:30 p.m. – Virginia Beach

  Benjamin was fixated on his computer monitor when he heard a knock on his office door. He deftly opened a new window to conceal the one he was viewing. “Come in.”

  Anthony Russo entered, closed the door behind him and took a seat. “I’m disappointed that you chose Abdar’s side on the issue of whether to use military personnel to fight AIS on our soil.”

  “I didn’t choose Abdar’s side. I simply happen to agree with him on this particular issue.”

  “Be that as it may, you’re wrong on this one. The Posse Comitatus Act clearly limits the powers of the federal government in using military personnel on American soil. This is a job for the Federal Protective Service.”

  “You are partially correct,” Benjamin countered. “The Posse Comitatus Act does place limits on the use of military personnel to enforce domestic policies on American soil. But this isn’t about enforcing domestic policies. It’s about fighting a foreign invader. Speakin
g of that, why haven’t you pushed for more action against the terrorists? It seems like your Homeland Security police would be more valuable in that effort than wasting time trying to prevent citizens from defending themselves.”

  “We cannot let anarchy reign in our streets,” Anthony said. “We must maintain order.”

  “At what cost?” Benjamin shook his head. “If we lose our nation to AIS, we’ve lost our liberty.”

  “AIS will be taken care of soon enough,” Anthony said with a confident smirk.

  “I wish I had your faith,” Benjamin said. “But given the reports that the AIS Supreme Leader is operating on American soil, I don’t.”

  Anthony cocked an eyebrow. “The AIS Supreme Leader? Here?”

  “Based on the intelligence we’ve received, yes.” Interesting, Benjamin thought. He hasn’t heard that rumor.

  “Where did you get your information?” Anthony inquired.

  “I obtained it from a source that I believe is reliable, but who wishes to remain anonymous.”

  Anthony leaned back in his chair. “If you obtain more intelligence on that issue, please let me know.”

  “I will,” Benjamin said. “Are your people any closer to finding Drew Thompson?”

  “We’re getting there,” Anthony said. “Austin Phillips’ team believes Thompson is hiding out somewhere in the vicinity of Fontana Dam, and we believe he is being assisted by locals.”

  ***

  Tuesday, October 23, 2018 – 5:47 a.m. – Fontana Dam

  The lone wayfarer stood silently in the edge of the forest before dawn the next morning, surveying the landscape ahead of him. Cautiously confident that he was alone, the man pulled his cap down close to his eyes and stepped out into the open.

  The man silently traversed the trail across Fontana Dam. The moon felt like a spotlight exposing his every step for all the world to see. Every hundred feet or so he checked to make sure he was not being followed. So far, so good, he thought. After crossing the dam, the man remained exposed as the trail paralleled the road through several turns.

  The traveler breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the woods southeast of the dam. He made his way up the trail, guided only by the moonlight. Fifteen minutes later he deviated onto a side trail, then stopped to catch his breath before resuming his search. After another five minutes he came upon what appeared to be a hedgerow of some sort. Is this it?

  The man ran his hands along the hedgerow until he found an opening. The entryway was concealed by a patchwork of foliage that someone had taken great pains to assemble. He gently removed the cover, exposing a door into a passageway. This is it. He stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him.

  ***

  6:11 a.m. – Fontana Dam

  Joshua sat up straight in the bed, suddenly wide awake. What was that sound? he wondered. Was I dreaming?

  Rebecca rolled over and rubbed her eyes. “What is it?”

  “I heard something.”

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  The words had barely left her mouth when Reagan, who had been asleep in the living room, unleashed a torrent of angry barking and growling.

  “It’s something.” Joshua jumped out of the bed, pulled on a robe and grabbed his Beretta 9mm. “Stay here.”

  As he entered the hall Joshua heard three loud knocks on the door. Reagan, who was positioned just inside the door, responded with five deep barks, followed by an ongoing, low growl. The dog’s tail was pointed straight up into the air.

  “Who is it?” Joshua raised his weapon toward the door.

  “It’s Jack,” came the answer.

  Joshua looked through the peephole. After verifying that Jack McGee stood on the other side of the door he opened it. “It’s 5:30 in the morning.” Reagan bolted through the door as soon as it was opened, still growling. He calmed down and Jack scratched him on the ear. Joshua did a double-take when he realized Drew Thompson was standing beside Jack.

  “Look what the cat drug in.” Jack pointed at Drew.

  “Where in the world have you been?” Joshua asked. “You guys come inside.”

  Joshua flinched when he turned around, startled to see Rebecca standing behind him with her compact Beretta .380. Jack shoved Drew through the door, then followed him in. Reagan made his way back to his cushion in the corner and curled up.

  Joshua took a seat in his recliner. Jack pushed Drew onto the couch and claimed the seat beside him, fixating on him with an angry glare. Rebecca claimed the other recliner.

  “Drew, you’ve got some explaining to do,” Joshua said. “The news is reporting that you had something to do with the bombing at Watts Bar Lake that killed the governors. We got stopped by some Homeland Security police asking if we knew you. What’s going on?”

  Drew removed his wire frame glasses, wiped his face with a handkerchief, then leaned back and closed his eyes. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Jack back-handed him on the chest. Drew grimaced and jerked forward. “How about with the truth?” Jack snapped. “You’ve really put us all at risk this time.”

  Joshua shook his head and leaned forward. “Jack, lay off. I don’t trust any of Armando’s propaganda. Let’s give Drew a chance to tell his side of the story.”

  “Thank you, Joshua,” Drew said. “I was there when the bombing happened.”

  “Did you have anything to do with it?” Jack demanded.

  “No, I did not. I had been keeping up with Governor Harper for some time. I wanted to be a part of what he was doing, and was able to get into the summit.”

  “Why do they think you had something to do with it?” Joshua asked.

  Drew pulled out his smartphone and launched a video. “This is why.” The video started at the beginning of the summit. “As you can tell, I was fairly far from the stage. That’s why I’m alive today.” The video captured every moment of the event. Joshua cringed when the stage was suddenly vaporized in a booming fireball. The camera jerked toward the sky, then captured a close-up of the ground.

  Then the camera re-focused on an object in the sky. “Drone,” Drew said. The video zoomed in on an unmanned aircraft.

  Joshua leaned back in his recliner and cupped his right cheek in his palm. He sat silently for a full minute before asking, “How do they know you were there?”

  “I’m guessing the drone had video capability. Either that or they had someone on the ground.”

  “What happened to the drone?” Joshua asked.

  “As I was trying to get out of there it fired a second missile and took out the cabin. Then some guy with a rifle shot it down.”

  Jack leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow. “Ummm… shot down a drone?”

  “Yep,” Drew said. “Then I got the hell out of there. I was able to hitchhike back to a trailhead north of here, and then hiked my way back.”

  “I caught him when he was entering the hedgerow passage,” Jack said.

  Joshua stood up, walked over and put his hand on Drew’s shoulder. “Drew, I want you to listen to me very carefully. For the time being, you are not to leave this camp at all. Period. Homeland Security is looking for you, and you will compromise yourself, and all of us, if you leave. If you do have to leave the camp, we need to arrange for you to do so without being exposed.”

  Drew nodded.

  “Is that clear?” Joshua asked. “And do you commit to stay here unless cleared by the council or me?”

  “Yes I do.”

  “Good,” Joshua said. “Jack, please escort Drew to his cabin. I’m going to try and get some more sleep.”

  ***

  8:15 a.m. – Fontana Dam

  Two hours later Joshua was awakened by the sound of a whining dog at his bedroom door. He threw on a tattered N.C. State Wolfpack baseball cap, lumbered into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot, then trudged to the front door to let Reagan out.

  Joshua spotted a piece of paper that had been wedged into the doorway. The paper fell to the floor, barely missing Re
agan as the anxious canine trudged across the porch and out into the yard. Joshua snatched up the paper and unfolded it, revealing a note: Thompson is not your mole. Sincerely, Mordecai. Joshua shook his head, folded the note and hid it in his pocket as Reagan made his way back inside. How in the world does he even know Drew is back?

  After pouring a cup of coffee Joshua staked himself out in the recliner. Let’s see what the Armando propaganda machine is spewing today. He fired up the television and turned it to one of the national news networks.

  The anchor was discussing the investigation into the Watts Bar Lake bombing: An Armando administration spokesman says that AIS was behind the bombing that killed Texas Governor Bennett Harper and 17 other governors. Additionally, the administration says that Drew Thompson, former chief of staff to the Speaker of the N.C. State House, is suspected of aiding and abetting the terrorists, and that he has the support of local extremist groups in western North Carolina.

  Joshua gritted his teeth. What a load of crap.

  He switched the television over to BBC, where the anchor offered an entirely different take: Intelligence sources in the United States tell us that, despite public claims to the contrary, the Armando administration has no real suspects in the Watts Bar Lake bombing. Further, there appears to be some dissent within the administration on how to best deal with the increasing trend of citizens taking up arms in their own defense.

  “Imagine that, Americans defending themselves.” Rebecca made her way through the living room to the coffee pot.

  “It’s a concept that seems foreign to Armando,” Joshua said.

  Rebecca returned with a cup of coffee and joined Joshua on the couch. He held the cup with his left hand and clasped her hand with his right.

  The anchor moved on to more global topics: The void created by America’s weakness continues to impact events around the world. Iran is being increasingly belligerent toward Israel, and the Jewish state has its forces on the highest level of alert. The Israeli prime minister has promised that his nation’s response to any Iranian attack will be “swift, merciless and complete.” The Middle East would already be in a state of all-out war if not for British support of Israel. Elsewhere, an emboldened Russia is amassing ground troops on its border with Ukraine. In a show of force that seems aimed at Russia, China is conducting joint maneuvers with North Korea. The United Kingdom and France have both promised to support and defend Israel, Ukraine, Japan and South Korea, but could quickly be spread too thin to mount an effective defense.