Monitoring? Russo interjected. Shouldn’t we be taking action to recapture the power plant in Florida?
Abdar’s voice ticked up to a higher, more shrill frequency. They just seized the plant yesterday. We are on top of the situation!
Mr. President, we have Federal Protective Service assets in the area, Russo said. I can have them on site in no time.
Abdar’s pitch became even more harsh. If I were granted permission to use military assets, we could solve this problem in no time!
These two really despise each other, Benjamin thought. And they’re both right about the other.
President Armando interrupted the back-and-forth. Enough! Abdar, anything else?
Yes, Mr. President. Abdar lowered his eyebrows as he spoke, glaring at the screen. We have received another video posted by the AIS Supreme Leader. He promises new attacks on American soil in the immediate future. AIS is specifically threatening U.S. government leaders and military and security personnel.
All the more reason we need to unleash the full power of our Homeland Security personnel, Russo interjected.
That’s enough, Russo, the President declared. Everyone, be advised that General Palmer will handle our response to AIS from this point forward.
Benjamin’s eyes darted to the portion of the screen where Abdar’s likeness appeared. Abdar appeared rattled by Armando’s declaration. Interesting, he thought.
Abdar attempted to object. But, Mr. President--
Abdar, it’s done. We can discuss this privately if you’d like. On a related note, have you received any intelligence on a potential AIS threat to infrastructure in southeastern North Carolina?
No sir. Abdar was unusually concise, and his eyes displayed the anger of a scorned lover.
Let us know if you do, President Armando instructed. As you know, General Cloos seems to believe there is a threat to the area, and he has once again taken matters into his own hands by sending assets to that area. General Palmer.
Sir? General Palmer answered.
General, make contact with Cloos. See if you can convince him to stand down and be a team player. Having a high-ranking Marine officer handle a situation in this manner communicates weakness and disunity, but we need to handle this peacefully if possible.
Yes, sir.
General, please update us when you have made contact, Armando said. Russo, do you have anything to report?
Thank you, Mr. President. Yes sir, I do. Austin Phillips and our operatives in western North Carolina captured former North Carolina State Representative Joshua Winston, who is believed to be an associate of Drew Thompson, yesterday. Mr. Winston and his associates escaped this morning with the help of an accomplice. Russo smiled broadly. However, I am pleased to report that we have him back in custody, along with his accomplice. We believe they have information about Mr. Thompson’s whereabouts. Our personnel we will be transporting them back to base camp and interrogating him shortly.
Benjamin glanced at Abdar’s image again. His eyebrows were lowered, and his lips were pursed. He was breathing heavier than normal, and his eyes seemed distant. Next he studied Adilah’s image. As usual, she was expressionless. Hard one to read, Benjamin thought.
Good work, Russo, the President said. That’s all for today. Meeting adjourned.
The participants’ images faded to black as the meeting window closed. Benjamin tapped the touch screen and opened the meeting application’s menu, then clicked on “replay recorded event.” He fast-forwarded through the just-completed meeting, stopping just prior to the president’s revelation that General Palmer would now be handling the administration’s response to AIS.
Benjamin utilized a feature that allowed him to scroll through the recording one image at a time. As a participant in the meeting, he had clearly observed Abdar’s reaction to the news in real-time. Now, he fixated on Anthony Russo. As frame after frame passed, Russo’s countenance remained consistently neutral. He’s got quite a poker face, Benjamin thought. And then, there it was: a brief smirk that passed so quickly the average observer would never have noticed it -- just before Armando revealed that Palmer would be his administration’s new point man for dealing with the terrorists.
***
10:45 a.m. – Fontana Dam
Caroline gripped Perry’s hand as they quickly walked up the path from their camper trailer to the community shelter where a crowd had gathered. She and Perry had become increasingly concerned when Joshua, Rebecca, Thomas and Jack had not returned from the community market the day before. Word of their disappearance had now spread throughout the camp.
Perry released Caroline’s hand and stepped to the front of the crowd. He motioned for Ruth Moore and Drew Thompson, the other camp council members present, to join him. A hush fell over the group as Perry spoke. “Here’s what we know. Yesterday, Joshua, Rebecca, Jack and Thomas went to the community market. A couple of hours after dark last night, Kim Page came to our camper, worried because Thomas hadn’t come home. This morning Chuck, Tommy, Caroline and I went to the market site. Thomas’ truck was still parked there.”
Kim Page started sobbing. Ruth left the front of the room and put her arm around her. Caroline joined them and did the same. “I’m sure they’re okay,” Ruth assured her. “We’ll find them.”
Jim Davidson raised his hand. “Perry, were there any witnesses? Did anyone see what happened?”
“There weren’t many people there this morning, but we did find one person who had some info. He said some federal agents took a few people into custody. We have to assume they were talking about our people.”
Caroline felt a spike of rage pulse through her being. The terrorists that killed my babies are still out there, and these agents are busy arresting good people who just want to be left alone? She clenched her right fist so hard she could feel her veins bulging against her skin. “What’s our plan, Perry? We have to go find them!”
Perry paused for a moment. “We don’t have a plan at this point. We need to think this through.”
Caroline pursed her lips. “We don’t have time to sit around and talk. We need to do something!”
Jim weighed in. “Caroline, I can understand the desire to take action, but we need to be smart about it, especially with Jack not being here.”
Chuck Jones, who had worked as a deputy sheriff for over 20 years, stepped to the front. “Here’s the plan. Jim, you and John Moore stay here and guard the camp. I’ll take Perry and Tommy and form a search party.
I’ll be damned if you’re leaving me here, Caroline thought. I’ll be joining the search party.
Chuck continued: “We will provide you with our planned search route before leaving, and we’ll be back before dark. If we don’t come back, stay here overnight and look for us in the morning. Any questions?”
“Good plan, Chuck,” Perry said. “Thank you. Meeting adjourned. We’ll see you guys tonight.”
Caroline clenched her teeth as Perry walked to her. He grabbed her hands and said, “Babe, will you be okay here while I’m out?”
“No.”
Perry arched his neck. “No?”
“No, because I’m not staying here. I’m going.”
Perry’s brow furrowed. “Caroline, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We have no idea what we’re going to run into out there.”
Anger charged through Caroline like a lightning bolt. She felt her face flush red. “I’m absolutely not staying here.” She jabbed Perry in the chest with her index finger. “And don’t you try to convince me otherwise.”
Perry heaved a deep sigh. “Okay…”
Caroline grabbed her husband’s hand and squeezed it tightly as they started down the path toward their camper. A series of images, memories and feelings flashed through her consciousness. The day Perry proposed. Their kiss at the altar on their wedding day. The feeling of sheer joy just over twelve years ago, when the doctor told her and Perry that she was pregnant with their first child. The image of her newborn son, Charlie. The image of
her daughter, Allie, shortly after birth two-and-a-half years later. She felt a lump form in her throat. Moving into their beautiful home in Wake Forest. Allie’s first dance recital. Charlie’s first tee ball game. She squeezed Perry’s hand so hard she felt him recoil. Pulling up to Joshua and Rebecca’s picturesque Chatham County farm. Sitting on the back deck with Joshua, Rebecca, Jim and Drew. The bright nuclear flash that lit up the sky over Raleigh.
She struggled to hold back tears. My babies. Burned alive, she thought. She gritted her teeth as the images continued. The mushroom cloud billowing over Raleigh as Perry drove toward the blast zone in a futile effort to find Charlie and Allie. The arrogant Homeland Security officer who refused to let them enter the blast zone to search for their children and who confiscated their cell phones for no reason. The AIS Supreme Leader brazenly bragging about killing Charlie, Allie and millions of other Americans. Nelson Armando, the spineless excuse for a president, blowing hot air at the television screen while doing absolutely nothing to fight the terrorists who had murdered her babies.
She released Perry’s hand as they approached their camper, picked up a hatchet that was leaning against one of the awning supports and flung it at a tree, ten feet away. The blade easily penetrated the thick bark, and the hatchet remained embedded about five feet above the earth. She glared at Perry, whose eyes were fixated on her. His eyebrows were furrowed.
Caroline pushed her way past Perry and silently made her way into the camper. She stopped at the storage cabinet, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and looked at the scar that was still visible on her left wrist. I will cut your throat the way I tried to cut my own wrist, she thought. She pulled her shoulder-length auburn hair into a ponytail and donned a denim baseball cap. Upon opening the cabinet door she retrieved a faded denim haversack, .22 caliber Ruger SP101 revolver with a faux wooden handle and silver barrel, two boxes of ammunition, a small serrated knife and several other exotic weapons. She loaded the pistol, hid the knife in her jeans and slung the haversack around her shoulder.
Perry greeted her as she made her way to the door. “Caroline, are you okay?”
“I don’t mean to be gruff, but I’m tired of sitting here in this little camp and not doing anything.”
“While I still think it’s a bad idea for you to come with us, I understand where you’re coming from,” Perry said. “And I’ve got faith that we’ll bring Joshua and Rebecca back safely.”
“It’s about more than just Joshua and Rebecca,” Caroline said. “It’s about hiding up here and pretending like things are hunky dory, when the world all around us is burning to the ground. We need to do something.”
Perry nodded but did not otherwise respond.
They made their way to Perry’s red crew cab Dodge Ram. Perry claimed the drivers’ seat, and Chuck snagged the passenger seat. Tommy Page, Thomas’ 18-year-old son, claimed the seat behind Perry, and Caroline positioned herself behind Chuck. She unzipped the haversack, sat it on the floor between her ankles, and placed the revolver in it for easy access.
Jim Davidson approached the vehicle, along with his wife, Keri, and John and Ruth Moore. “I’d like to pray for you before you leave.”
Jim removed his cap, and Tommy followed suit. Caroline bowed her head toward the floor, but did not close her eyes. Jim offered up a prayer: “Father, we come to you as your humble servants in these uncertain times. We don’t know what’s going on or why it’s happening, but we do know that you’re in control. I ask you to keep those in this vehicle safe, and I ask that you empower them to find our friends and bring them back here safely and without incident. I ask these things in the mighty name of your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
How could God allow this to happen? Caroline asked herself. Sometimes I wonder if He is even up there.
As Perry started up the truck they heard the whirring of a motorcycle engine. Drew waved as he passed.
“Where the hell is he going?” Perry asked.
“There’s no telling with that kid,” Chuck said. “I just hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“I do wish he’d tell us what he’s up to,” Jim said.
John Moore chuckled. “Some people never learn. One of these days he’s going to get himself in trouble.”
Perry put the Ram in gear. Caroline silently stared out the window as they made their way down the path, then took a left onto Route 28. All she could think about was exacting revenge on the sub-human pieces of garbage who had killed her babies. She squeezed the armrest with a death grip that would make a boa constrictor jealous. A short time later they turned right onto Route 143 toward Robbinsville. The vehicle remained silent, with all eyes fixated on the terrain. Several miles later she felt the vehicle begin to decelerate.
“What the hell?” Chuck said.
Caroline leaned forward and peered through the windshield, where she saw the burning remains of a vehicle. On the far side of the vehicle sat a pile of something, but she was unable to identify it from this distance.
“I’m not sure, but it could be a trap,” Perry said. “We stumbled onto a similar scene when we were captured by AIS.”
Caroline reached into the haversack and retrieved her revolver, resting it on her right thigh. To her left, Tommy rested his 12-gauge Remington shotgun on his lap, with the barrel pointing toward the door, and clicked the safety off.
As they rolled past the charred remains of an old Jeep the previously undiscernible pile came into clearer focus.
“Is that what I think it is?” Chuck asked.
“Yep,” Perry said. “A pile of dead terrorists.”
“Somebody wanted to make a point.” Chuck gestured toward the pile. The scene was virtually identical to the one Perry, Joshua and Jack had seen a few days earlier: the terrorists’ bodies were riddled with bullet holes and each one had what appeared to be a knife wound in the abdomen. A pig’s foot was protruding from each dead terrorist’s mouth, and a severed pig head sat atop the pile of bodies.
“That they did,” Perry said. “Jack, Joshua and I stumbled onto something like this a few days ago.”
Caroline’s peripheral vision picked up a subtle motion and a flash of yellow behind the dead terrorists. She gestured. “What is that?”
Perry slowed the vehicle to a stop. Chuck leaned out the window and described what he saw. “Looks like a flag of some sort. Yellow flag with a coiled rattlesnake in the middle.”
“Gadsden flag,” Perry said. “Dates back to the American Revolution.”
“This one is different,” Chuck said. “The words ‘Don’t Tread On Me’ are missing. And in the top left corner there is what appears to be a modified American flag.”
“Modified how?” Perry asked.
“The stripes are consistent with the American flag, but there are no stars.”
Caroline rolled down her window and fixed her gaze on the strange flag, which appeared to be about a foot tall and a foot-and-a-half wide. It was attached to a branch that had been converted into a makeshift flagpole and stood four feet above the ground. The flag whipped in the breeze. Who did this, and what does this flag represent? she wondered. Someone out there is intent on making a difference.
***
11:15 a.m. – Fontana Dam area
An hour and a half after being recaptured, Joshua, Rebecca, Jack, Kane and Thomas were still at the location where they had been reacquired by Austin Phillips. They had been bound, gagged and sequestered in the back of a pickup truck, but were not blindfolded. Although their captors had forced him and Rebecca to opposite sides of the truck bed, Joshua had managed to switch places with Jack and had taken the spot next to his bride and pressed his arm against hers. He felt more at ease being next to her and touching her, even though the gags prevented them from conversing. Joshua watched as Jack identified a sharp spot on the bottom of the toolbox that was affixed to the truck bed and began slowly grinding away at his bindings.
Joshua perked up when a black Suburban whipped into
the parking lot. The same tall blonde who had shown great affection for Kane stepped out of the passenger side, slammed her door, and marched directly to where they were being held. A male agent was close behind.
Virginia jerked the gag off of Kane. “I can’t believe you knocked me out! And you killed a federal agent!”
“I can’t believe you pointed a gun at me. And I can’t believe you’re in league with these Homeland Security thugs.”
The male agent glared at Kane. “Watch your mouth!”
Kane fixated a laser-like stare on the agent. “The fact that your job even exists is an affront to the Constitution! You are doing work that should be done by local police. And the National Guard. You’re just a low-level enforcer for a would-be dictator. A federal rent-a-cop.”
The agent took a step toward Kane, but Virginia waved him off.
Kane shifted his gaze to Virginia. Joshua could see the conflict in his eyes. He appeared both hurt and angry. Both betrayed and infatuated.
Kane held up his bound wrists. “Virginia, why don’t you take these off and let me settle this with him man-to-boy?” He refocused his glare on the agent. “I promise it won’t take long.”
Virginia silently stared at Kane for several seconds. Then she abruptly grabbed his head, kissed him, replaced the gag over his mouth, and marched back to the Suburban. The vehicle kicked up a few rocks in its wake as it spun out of the parking lot and ventured off in the same direction from which it had appeared.
As the Suburban left the parking lot Joshua sensed Rebecca’s gaze focused on him. She was always beautiful to him, even now when her straight brown hair was disheveled and her countenance conveyed sheer exhaustion. Her puppy-dog brown eyes met his and, somehow, reassured him in spite of the visible bags beneath them. He could almost hear her saying, Josh, you’ve got this. I know we’ll get out of this somehow. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes and nuzzled his face against hers. How do I keep getting you into these situations? he wondered to himself. Am I going to get you killed by staying here and leading the camp? Should we leave this area and go somewhere else, by ourselves? Even further off the grid? He felt a lump form in his throat.
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