Convergence

by Frank L. Williams

  Austin Phillips, Joshua thought. Maybe there is hope for him.

  Another male voice responded: “Our current situation has changed people. Some we believed were loyal have turned against our country.”

  Homeland Security Agent, Joshua thought.

  The man continued: “Regardless of what you may have once known about Mr. Winston, we have reason to believe he is connected to Drew Thompson. We need to find Thompson, and then we need to transport all of them to Virginia Beach.”

  “How do you intend to locate Mr. Thompson?” Austin asked.

  “That would be easier if Miss Pennington’s inside source would give us the location of their camp.”

  Joshua and Rebecca made eye contact. So we do have a mole, he thought.

  A female voice with a southern drawl jumped into the conversation, speaking with an agitated tone: “We’d still be looking for Mr. Winston if it wasn’t for my inside source. Moore just doesn’t trust you Homeland Security types.”

  Joshua stomach twisted as he made eye contact with Jack and whispered, “Moore?”

  Jack’s eyebrow was cocked. “John?” he mouthed in response.

  I never would’ve suspected John Moore to be our mole. Joshua shook his head and tuned back into the conversation.

  “Enough marking your territory,” Austin said. “Both of you. While I still have my doubts about whether Joshua Winston could be involved in something like this, it’s not for me to decide. We’ve got him in custody. Once we secure Drew Thompson, we’ll transport them all to the headquarters in Virginia Beach for questioning.”

  “And just how do we plan to find Thompson?” Virginia asked.

  “One of these four will talk,” an unknown male voice growled.

  ***

  1517 – Camp Lejeune

  General Cloos sat at his desk, flanked by a sergeant and a corporal. The images of Colonel Brookhart and Major Chinn appeared as the screen on the back wall flared to life.

  “Good morning, men.” Cloos scratched what was left of his short, brown hair. “Status reports, please. Colonel, you first.”

  Thank you, General, Brookhart said. We have arrived in Wilmington. Our first objective is to scout the area in and around the port. We have made contact with the remaining Coast Guard personnel in the area. Once we have a good feel for the situation here, we will turn our attention to assets on the west side of the Cape Fear River in Brunswick County.

  “We have no time to waste Colonel. Anything else?”

  Understood, sir. There is one more thing. Not directly related to our mission, but I thought you’d find it interesting. When we arrived, we noticed several small boats moored in the Cape Fear River near the Battleship. There are also tents lining the parking lot near the ship.

  “Who are they?”

  Apparently local veterans who’ve taken it upon themselves to protect the ship. They caught some AIS terrorists casing it a few months ago. They disposed of the terrorists and have been there ever since.

  “My kind of people.” Cloos spat into the Styrofoam cup on his desk. “Major Chinn, you’re up.”

  Thank you, General. I’ll start by saying that it was a privilege meeting Colonel Lester Wade yesterday. I understand he was your CO.

  Cloos let out a sarcastic chuckle. “That he was. Don’t believe everything he told you about me.”

  Major Chinn grinned. He said you were tough as nails from day one.

  “Son, you know I’ll demote you for lying.”

  Yes, sir. He did say to tell you that he taught you everything you know, sir.

  “Actually, he taught me everything he knows. And it’s only part of what I know. How is he these days?”

  He seemed to be doing well for his age, and he was very helpful. He gave me a lead on where I might track down Drew Thompson this weekend.

  “That’s good, because that trail appears to be running dry otherwise. I may need you back here sooner rather than later.”

  ***

  Sunday, October 28, 2018 – 0916 – Fontana Dam area

  Kane could sense the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he slowed to a jog. This morning’s run had commenced well before dawn, and he had been at least eight miles. He took a deep breath as he trotted down the trail toward the camp he now called home. The camp where his new friends lived.

  And Virginia. Sweet Virginia. Kane had never felt this attracted to a woman. She was beautiful. Her eyes hypnotized him. He melted at the sound of her syrupy southern drawl. She listened to him in a way no one ever had, to the point that he had unloaded his frustrations about Joshua and the camp on her. They had spent hours talking about the America that had been lost and what had to be done to restore the nation to its former glory. She was a true patriot, and he trusted her. Kane had only known Virginia for a few days, but could not imagine a day without seeing her. He felt butterflies in his stomach as he approached the edge of the woods.

  As he left the woods and entered the clearing he spotted three Suburbans, two white and one black, exiting on the opposite side. They were following a dark green Hummer. Kane cocked an eyebrow; he had seen several black SUVs in the camp, but had not previously noticed the white ones. As one of the vehicles rounded a curve he noticed “Federal Protective Service” emblazoned on its door. Homeland Security police. Jayvee military. They shouldn’t even exist. What are they doing here?

  As he slowed to a walk his legs began throbbing, as though some creature trapped within his calves was trying to burrow its way out. He used a large log near the edge of the woods for support as he stretched his calves, then hamstrings and then thighs. He gritted his teeth, igniting each muscle as he extended it to the breaking point. The pain was energizing.

  After completing his stretching routine Kane made his way to his tent, which was positioned near several other tents behind the first cabin. He retrieved a tattered washcloth, made his way to the rippling mountain stream behind the camp, removed his sweat-drenched shirt and wiped the sweat off his face, torso and arms. Soaked in cool stream water, the washcloth sent shock waves throughout his body. He felt goosebumps form on his arms and back. The cold water was as refreshing as the stretching pain was energizing.

  Kane made his way back to his tent, used a makeshift towel that was actually the remnant of an old t-shirt to wipe the beads of cold water from his torso, and put on clean clothes. He made his way past a lone black Suburban to the center cabin. Since no one else was milling around outside, he assumed most of the camp residents had been in the three vehicles he saw leaving. His heart quickened as he approached the door, which was ajar, and pushed it open.

  “Good morning, soldier.” Kane was spellbound by Virginia’s southern drawl. She made a beeline for him, and he barely noticed the Homeland Security agent who had entered the hall behind her. Kane embraced Virginia, who was nearly his own height, and felt her hand caress his neck. The kiss was electrifying, sending sparks throughout his entire being. He forgot about everything else – for a moment.

  “Kane!” The deep, male voice invaded the moment of euphoria.

  Kane recognized the voice. He pulled back from Virginia. The Homeland Security agent was standing in an open doorway that had been closed moments earlier. Looking past the agent, he spotted Jack McGee standing in the room. A spark of rage surged through him. These were the people who had betrayed him. “What are you doing here?” he boomed.

  “I could ask you the same question,” Jack said.

  The agent in the doorway turned to face Jack and stepped toward him. “And you won’t say another word unless I ask you a question.”

  Jack’s face flushed. “Back off. We know Kane. And the last time I checked, we still have freedom of speech.”

  “Not here, you don’t. Now sit down and shut up!”

  Kane pursed his lips and looked at Virginia. “Why are they here? What’s going on?”

  Virginia’s striking blue eyes penetrated Kane’s with an icy stare – a marked contrast from her warm, inviting demeanor
moments earlier. “They are suspected of being affiliated with a known domestic terrorist.”

  Kane’s stomach twisted. “Virginia, I know these people. I’ve had my differences with them, but they are not terrorists and would never support terrorism against this country. And what is your connection to these Homeland Security police?”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion from within the room. Kane’s peripheral vision picked up the agent stumbling backward, followed by a deep, authoritative directive from Jack. “Back off!” The agent quickly recovered and launched a right hook at Jack. Jack blocked the right hook, but a follow-up left hook connected with his jaw, sending him to the floor.

  Kane glared at the man through narrowed eyes. Homeland Security scum. As he stepped toward the room his peripheral vision picked up a quick motion that was followed by a command that almost sounded palatable in Virginia’s twang. “Stop! Don’t do it, soldier!”

  Kane turned toward her. Instead of being met by her seductive blue eyes, he found himself staring down the barrel of a SIG P229. “Virginia, this is wrong.”

  Virginia tightened her hands around the pistol grip. “These people are aligned with enemies of the United States government.”

  Kane made eye contact with her. He froze for a moment, fixated on her alluring yet volcanic blue eyes. The beautiful woman who had mesmerized him was now pointing a gun at him, and was apparently connected to the Homeland Security Police. She was falsely accusing people he had lived with for the past twenty months of being enemies of the United States. While he had his differences with Joshua and the others, he knew they were not domestic terrorists. He wondered if he had unwittingly aided and abetted these Homeland Security goons in capturing Joshua. Now, he had a decision to make: was his loyalty to the beautiful woman who had rapidly captured his heart and his imagination, or to Joshua and those in the camp?

  Virginia pursed her lips and tightened her grip on her SIG P229. In that instant, Kane’s loyalties became crystal clear in his mind. In one quick motion he grabbed her wrists and pushed them to his left. He secured her right wrist with a vise-like grip and claimed the pistol. He spun her around, clasped his forearms around her neck and applied pressure to her carotid artery. Within moments the exotic blonde who had captured Kane’s heart just days earlier collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

  His senses on high alert, Kane heard footsteps behind him. He spun just in time to block a right hook from the agent who had punched Jack. The agent responded with his weaker hand, and Kane deftly deflected the strike. He grabbed the agent’s shirt and jerked him closer, head-butting him in the nose. Kane felt the agent’s blood splatter onto his face. He landed a blow to the agent’s throat, crushing his windpipe, and kicked him to the ground. The man gasped and moaned in a futile struggle to secure the oxygen needed to prolong his life.

  Jack was back on his feet, caressing the jaw that had fallen victim to the agent’s punch. Kane motioned for Joshua, Rebecca and Thomas to get up. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Kane, I’m glad we ran across you here.” Joshua jumped to his feet and extended his hand to Rebecca. “Thanks for bailing us out. At some point I’d like to know what the hell you were doing here.”

  “Later.” Kane quickly bound and gagged Virginia, who was still unconscious. He gently kissed her on the forehead. Such a waste. He retrieved a keyring from a desk just inside the front door and tossed it to Thomas. “You’re driving. Black Suburban out front. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Kane, where would they put weapons they confiscated from us?” Jack asked.

  “Probably the storage building behind the house. Joshua, come with me and check the storage building. Jack, go with Thomas. Pull the truck around back.”

  “Man, see if my car keys are there,” Thomas said.

  ***

  9:31 a.m. – Fontana Dam Area

  Joshua followed Kane out the back door as Rebecca, Jack and Thomas exited through the front. Kane pointed him toward a small storage building, where a musky odor greeted him when he opened the door. A rat that looked like it could take down a small squirrel bolted across the dirt floor and disappeared into a wall. Inside, Joshua found the weapons that had been confiscated from his group, along with a number of others and countless boxes of ammunition. He found an empty box, loaded it with fifteen handguns and about twenty boxes of bullets, then put the weapons belonging to him, Rebecca, Jack and Thomas on top. There was no sign of Thomas’ keys.

  Joshua quickly made his way to the Suburban, where Kane was loading a tent, sleeping bag and duffel bag. Joshua put the weapons into the back and joined Rebecca and Jack in the back. Kane claimed the front passenger seat. Thomas put the vehicle in gear and gunned it. The road was so bumpy it felt like one long rumble strip.

  At the end of the dirt road Thomas slowed the Suburban just enough to make sure they weren’t going to be t-boned by an oncoming vehicle, then hit the gas and spun out onto the paved road. Two white Suburbans were approaching the intersection as they pulled out.

  “Damn it!” Jack said. “Gun it, Thomas!”

  “Man, I am. I ain’t a Nascar driver.” Thomas nervously twisted a toothpick in his mouth.

  The SUV tightly hugged the narrow, winding road, with its pursuers close behind. Jack turned and looked through the back glass. “They’re tailing us, but aren’t pushing us too hard.”

  Rebecca looked at Joshua and whispered. “Is that good or bad?”

  Joshua squeezed her hand. “I’m guessing it means they’ve called ahead.”

  Several miles later they rounded a curve and came face-to-face with a roadblock. Joshua counted three Suburbans, a Hummer and at least ten heavily armed agents. Four of the agents were pointing weapons that looked like MP5 machine guns at them. Another Hummer was parked adjacent to an abandoned store on the right, and several small homes sat atop the hill behind the store. A crowd of people had congregated at the bottom of the hill. Thomas slowed the SUV to a stop.

  Jack punched the dash. “Well, this just went from bad to worse.”

  “It’s not good, but we’re clearly outgunned,” Joshua said. “We don’t need to get ourselves killed.”

  Jack shook his head. “Forgive me if I’m cynical, but I wouldn’t put it past these guys to off us.”

  “They might, but let’s don’t do any more to incite them. Maybe we’ll live to fight another day.”

  Four agents wielding MP5s approached the Suburban, each weapon trained on a different occupant. Four additional agents fanned out and approached the vehicle from four different vantage points.

  Austin Phillips exited the Hummer closest to them and approached the Suburban, his hand on his holstered sidearm. “Open your doors slowly, exit the vehicle, and put your hands on your heads. Joshua, I always thought highly of you. I’d hate to see you get killed today.”

  Joshua’s heart pounded like a bass drum. “Do what they say and we might just make it out of here alive.” Rebecca squeezed his hand, and the two of them slowly opened their doors, exited and put their hands on their heads. Thomas and Joshua followed suit. The agent beside Austin grabbed Joshua’s left hand and pulled it down behind him, did the same with his right and started binding his wrists together.

  The agent abruptly stopped binding Joshua’s wrists. “Get out of here!”

  Confused, Joshua turned to see whom the officer was addressing. He saw the backside of an old man sporting a wrinkled, worn green coat and faded camouflage pants. The man appeared intoxicated and barely able to stand. His words sounded slurred: “Hey hey! You sell collards?”

  “I said leave, you old drunk!”

  “But I just want some collards.” The man staggered wildly, nearly falling onto his side. “You got ‘em?”

  The agent shoved the old man. “Go, now, or I’ll lock you up too!”

  The man spun around clumsily and raised his hands. “Okay, okay. But I just want collards.” He staggered away from the agent, made eye contact with Joshua and wink
ed.

  Mordecai! Joshua thought. Perfectly lucid. Not drunk at all.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sunday, October 28, 2018 – 10:37 a.m. – Virginia Beach

  Benjamin filled a glass with water from his purifier and plopped down onto the plush leather couch in his one-bedroom apartment later that morning. He had furnished the apartment with only the basics: a simple bed, nightstand and dresser, a cheap lamp and a small table with two folding wooden chairs. Those items, along with his clothes and daily essentials, were all he had brought with him when the Armando administration had set up camp in Virginia Beach after the terrorist attacks twenty months earlier. The refrigerator, washer, dryer and microwave had been supplied by the landlord, and he had picked up two small folding end tables. The apartment’s plain white walls were barren, and the couch was the nicest piece of furniture in the place. Benjamin paid his rent in cash, which seemed to please the landlord.

  He sat the glass of water on a stone coaster emblazoned with the Star of David on the end table to his left, opened up his secure tablet and activated the administration’s private videoconference application. He was placed into a queue, and the words “waiting on host” appeared on the screen.

  Several minutes later the conference attendees appeared on the display. As usual, Abdar and Adilah appeared on screen, along with Russo, President Armando and two junior staffers, one male and one female. General Mason Palmer joined the videoconference.

  President Armando’s thick New York City accent emanated from the tablet. Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We have a lot to cover, so let’s get started. Abdar, where are we on ascertaining the AIS threat to major infrastructure assets?

  Benjamin flipped his middle finger toward the screen as Abdar’s Middle-Eastern accent came through the speakers, making sure to keep his hand low enough that the camera would not pick up the gesture.

  Thank you, Mr. President, Abdar said. In addition to the assets and territory they already controlled, AIS has now seized the Intercession City Power Plant in Florida, and AIS members have been spotted near the Vogtle Nuclear Plant just outside of Waynesboro, Georgia. We are monitoring both situations.