The Nation Chronicles: Book Two (The Nation Chronicles Trilogy 2)

by Wendell Sweet

The camera swung back to the right, and dropped lower to where the young dark haired man was now seated in front of a dual screened computer. One screen was blank, and the other was flashing on and off, but Frank could not make out what the words on the screen said. "Can any of you read that?" Frank asked, his voice tinged with panic. He had a pretty good idea what the screen said, but wanted to hear it from someone else.

  "Can't make it out," Gary said.

  "It'll be clear in a second," Ira responded, turning his attention back to the monitor. Frank noticed there was a rock hard set to Ira's jaw. He looks angry, Frank realized. Frank turned back to the small television set.

  "Now," the young man continued, "let’s get a couple of things straight, shall we?" his face took on a grim look as he spoke, but the smile seemed to still be twitching at the corners of his mouth. "First thing is this, by my order you are to turn over the following individuals to my people on the north side of Rochester." He paused, and then began to read from a list.

  "Ira Pratt, wanted for being a no good bastard, who has been spreading lies about me," the young mans’ face became serious as he spoke, and he looked up at the camera. "He is wanted dead or alive, and of course we will offer a reward. Next, Franklin Wilton Morgan, oh this guy is a real snake, a real low life," he stared into the camera, "a real chicken-shit bastard too, no balls at all, just turn him over to me folks, and of course there will be a reward."

  Franks face was going pale as he watched.

  "Next," the dark haired young man said, "is a real crafty old fuck. Gary Jones. Jones?" he said, raising his eyebrows, "sounds like an alias to me. This old bastard thinks he can figure all of this out," the young man grinned into the camera, "I want this one alive," he said, as he licked his lips. "Next, James Johnson. A cop friends and neighbors, a fucking cop! And he's been lying to you. No reward, dead or alive I don't care. Now lastly," he pretended to squint as he read from the paper. "Oh yes, Annie Davidson, now this little bitch, I want her bad. I intend to hang her right up on the wall next to that other little bitch."

  Franks face flushed red. "That son-of-a-bitch," he said through clenched teeth.

  The young man smiled from the television. "That piss you off, Frank?" he asked.

  Frank drew in a quick breath. "How the hell..."

  "Oh yes, I know about you two," the young man said, as if he could hear Frank, and even read his mind. "You think you had her first, Frank? You, my friend, are sadly mistaken," the camera swung down as the young man grabbed his crotch, "she munched this a few times, let me tell you."

  Frank let out a wordless roar and lunged for the television.

  "Frank, it ain't real!" Ira yelled, as he restrained him, "it's what he wants you to do."

  "I'll show that bastard what I want to do," Frank said, as he struggled in Ira's grip. Ira held him fast, as Jimmy reached over and paused the recording.

  "It don't matter, Frank," Ira continued. "Frank, look at me," he waited until Frank looked into his eyes. He could see the anger, and he understood it. "Frank, it's what he wants, he can't touch her, he can't touch any of us, believe me, Frank, I ain't lying to you."

  Frank calmed down, but the anger stayed in his eyes. "I swear Ira, if I get my hands on him..."

  "Watch the rest of the recording, Frank, we got other considerations, it gets worse." Frank nodded his head curtly, and turned his attention back to the television, as Jimmy punched the play button.

  "...right on the wall," the young man was saying. The camera swung back to the wall, once again showing the young girl.

  She can't be more than eighteen, Gary thought.

  The camera moved back to the young man.

  "Now, new business. I think it only reasonable that since I know your names, you should know mine. My name is Luther, only Luther. No middle initial, no last name, and that is what you'll call me when you bow down and worship me... You see, I am your God now. Me, I am that I am," his grin became horrific as he spoke revealing sharp rows of yellowed teeth.

  "Bastard believes it too," Jimmy said, staring at the television screen.

  "We do have some other problems to resolve," Luther continued. "I don't mind if you insist on praying to that other God, at least for now, but once I kill that other God, and I will, you can bet your ass I will, I will be your only God. No others before me at all... I will not allow it," his grin disappeared and a grim mask of determination now rode his face. "Which brings me to the end of this little pep talk, Ron?" the camera zoomed in on the flashing letters on the screen.

  ARMED!...ARMED!...ARMED!...

  "Shit," Frank muttered, "the bastard's gonna do it." Jimmy looked at him sharply, as did Ira, but neither man spoke.

  "Yes, it is what it appears to be folks," Luther assured them, "and, sad to say, one of your own has known all along, yet didn't tell you. Now why do you suppose that is?" he winked at the camera. "I'll tell you why, cause he's a chicken-shit pussy," Luther said calmly. "I am of course talking about your own Franklin Morgan. That chicken-shit, that very same one, or... could be he's a spy for me..." he left the accusation hanging for a few seconds. "Well time will tell friends and neighbors, time will tell. I regret I must leave you now, but I prepared a special recording concerning the young lady on the wall that I thought you might want to see. Oh yes, you have 48 hours. That's it. Turn the aforementioned criminals over to me, or," he turned and placed the index finger of his left hand on the keyboard of the terminal, "BANG," he yelled into the camera, and began to laugh.

  Jimmy reached over and ejected the DVD. "You don't want to see the rest of it," he said, shaking his head sadly, "it's awful bad."

  "Frank," Ira asked, "did you know?"

  "Yeah," Frank replied in a low voice that was still tinged with anger, "I did, but I wasn't trying to hide it like he said, I just didn't want to scare everyone."

  "I didn't believe that, and neither did Jimmy," Ira said. "But, Frank is it true? Are the missiles really there?"

  "Yeah, I'm afraid they are," Frank said sadly, "but he'd have to be nut's to think he wouldn't kill himself if he launched them."

  "Maybe he is nuts," Gary said, "maybe he's a raving lunatic, I mean he has to be anyhow..."

  "Oh, he's a nut-case all right," Ira said. "But I have no doubt at all that he'll push them buttons. You see...It don't matter to him 'cause he ain't human," Ira finished quietly.

  Silence hung in the room for a few minutes no one seemed willing to break it.

  Frank finally spoke. "How do you know, Ira? Gary said the same thing, not more than a half hour ago. How do you know?" Frank was pretty sure that he knew what his answer would be, but he needed to hear it from Ira.

  "God, of course," Ira said. "No, God didn't tell me he had missiles, and God didn't tell me he would launch them, but I saw that man with my own two eyes. I saw him dragged from the pit, and I know who he is. He's Satan, pure and simple, or to put it another way, he's evil, and he'll do his best to kill us, don't doubt it for a second."

  Frank lowered his head into his hands. He suddenly had a bad headache, that pulsed along with his heart, and every beat sent sharp slivers of pain into his head, making it harder to think straight. "Ira," he said as he raised his head, "you believe that? You believe he's some creature? Not human, but... But spirit, or something?"

  "Yes, Frank, I do," Ira responded, "and I ain't about to make no bones about it. What is it that bothers you so much, Frank, the believing, or maybe that you have a place in God's plan?"

  Frank lowered his aching head back into his hands, and spoke from there as he gently shook his head from side to side. "I don't know, Ira... Believing in God, believing you're Cora's husband, believing that God wants me... I don't know I don't."

  "You're afraid Frank, you're afraid that God might ask too much... God don't ever ask too much, just what you kin handle, Frank," Ira stated calmly. "God didn't say you have to change, or tell you that you have to give up anything either, if that's what you're thinking. If a change comes to you, it comes to yo
u because you wanted it. God just helps you to see what you want. What you really want, inside."

  "Okay," Frank said, raising his head from his hands, "okay, Ira, I believe in God... It was a hard decision, maybe I'm thick headed, can't believe what I don't see sometimes, but... I'm out of explanations, and the only one that seems to fit is God. I don't know why in hell he would want me, but I'm his if he does," Frank finished, as he once again buried his face in his hands. He peeked up briefly. "Aspirin, Jimmy, got any aspirin, Tylenol, anything?"

  "Hang on," Jimmy said, as he rummaged through a desk drawer. "Here," He handed Frank three tablets along with a cup of coffee to swallow them with.

  Frank swallowed the tablets before he spoke again. "So what now?"

  "We have to stop him, that's for sure," Gary said, "we can't just let him do it."

  "Do you know exactly where them missiles are, Frank?" Ira asked.

  "No, not exactly, I know I could find them, but I haven't seen them." He spent the next few minutes telling them how he had found out about the missiles. "...Peter's, I mean Black, said they're not actually in the facility. They're a good ten miles away, in Fort Drum," Frank continued, "on the old Jeffery's farm he called it..."

  "I know where that is. I know exactly where that is, Frank," Gary said suddenly "When you told me, I thought you meant they were in the facility itself, not there. But what the hell are they doing there, Jefferey's wouldn't go for that at all, I know it, I went to..."

  "He would and did, Gary," Frank cut in, "Jeffery's was in on it. He was CIA, Gary, he knew."

  "Jumped up Jesus," Gary said. Ira shot him a grim look. "Sorry Ira, I mean God, but Jeffery's? I went to school with him... I guess... Well, okay. Okay then if you say so, Frank, I believe you, but where? It's a farm, Frank, where the hell..." Gary's eyes suddenly flew open and Frank nodded. "The silos, Frank? The silos?"

  "Yeah. I'm afraid so, Gary, school chum or not he did it, and they're there. No doubt about it, two of them hidden in the silos."

  "Okay, okay," Gary said, "but what can we do about it..."

  "Go back," Ira said calmly, "we have to go back." He pointed at Gary. "You, me, Frank and Jimmy. We have to go to Fort Drum and disarm them somehow, Gary."

  "Well now, this is where I have a problem with it," Gary said, in an angry tone of voice. "Where is God now? Why can't God just reach down and smack the shit out of those missiles and end it that way?"

  "It doesn't work that way, Gary," Frank responded, "that's why God needs us," he looked at Ira.

  "Frank's right, Gary, it don't work that way, and you ain't stupid enough to believe that it does, are you?"

  Gary released a deep sigh. "No, I ain't," he said, in a low voice, "But..."

  "But nothin', Gary, it's us that have to do it. Us, there ain't nobody else that'll do it for us...We all agreed?"

  Frank's headache was beginning to worsen when Ira asked the question, but he nodded his head in agreement, along with Gary and Jimmy.

  "One other thing, Frank," Ira said. "I said I could prove to you who I was, and I aim to keep that promise." Ira walked over to the small television screen, and six pair of eyes followed him. The screen was blank, and Gary began to puzzle until he looked at Frank. Frank's eyes were bugged out as he stared at the blank screen.

  "Jimmy?" Gary asked.

  "Blank," Jimmy responded.

  "Not to him it ain't," Ira said calmly.

  Gary turned his attention back to Frank. His eyes were no longer bulging he noticed, and a smile had come onto his face, as tears rolled down his cheeks.

  "The children," Frank said, in a barely audible voice, "the children, oh my God, Ira, why didn't you tell me?" Frank whispered.

  "You needed to see yourself, Frank," Ira said, nearly whispering himself. "Cora will take good care of them, you needn't worry."

  "Frank," Gary asked, "Frank, what's going on, Frank, hey..."

  "It's okay Gary," Frank said softly, "the kids are okay." He shook his head, suddenly realizing that the headache was gone, and blinked his eyes. When he opened them, the screen was as blank to him as it had remained to everyone else in the room. "We need to go," Frank said, in a stronger voice, "we don't have much time. Jimmy, when did that come in?"

  "About an hour ago, so if he was serious we only have forty seven left... Is that enough?"

  "Not if we stand around talking it isn't," Frank said, "Ira?"

  "Yep," Ira replied, "we gotta get a move on. The sooner the better." That seemed to end the conversation for a minute, as each man looked around at the others in the room. "One more thing," Frank said, "I think we need to pray." Frank got down on his knees in the small room, and was joined seconds later by the others. They joined hands, bowed their heads, and Ira lead them in prayer.

  While Jimmy searched out Hank Nelson, one of his ex-police buddies who had been helping to coordinate things, Frank set off with Gary to find Annie. Jimmy could fill Hank in, and Ira had gone over to the television station to set a plan in motion, that they had all agreed upon. Frank needed to find Annie. He couldn't leave without seeing her, even if it only made it harder for him, and she was also part of the plan they had come up with, and, she needed to know about the children, Frank reasoned.

  He found her with Lisa and Connie, in the old County Court House building, setting up the make-shift Red Cross kitchen for lunch.

  "Frank," she asked when she saw his red eyes, "what's wrong?"

  "Nothing is," Frank said, mildly, "but I need to talk to you..." he looked over at Bessy, the formidable woman who had run the kitchen on her own for three days, "Bessy?" he asked.

  "Go on ahead," Bessy said, "we're just about finished here anyhow. Annie, go on ahead, Lisa and Connie can help me serve." The old gray-haired woman nodded her head sternly at Annie as she spoke.

  Frank waited until they were outside before he spoke. Gary had followed them out, but walked a short distance away. "First," Frank said, "I love you, Annie, I do with all my heart, and I should've already said it."

  "I love you too," Annie said, through the tears that had begun to spill down her cheeks, "I-I didn't think you loved me."

  "That's only because I can be so stupid sometimes, Annie. I didn't see it. No... I saw it, but I was afraid of it. Annie, that isn't all, we Gary, Ira, Jimmy and I have to leave. I can't tell you all reasons right now... it has to do with something I know about those caves, but we have to go, Annie. We have to."

  "Okay," she said in a low voice, as she brushed tears from her eyes, "just come back, Frank, I-I lost my k-kids, Frank, I don't want lose you too," she burst into fresh tears as she finished. Frank took her chin in his hands, and gently lifted her face to his. "You didn't lose your kids, Annie, any more than I lost mine," he waited for a second to let what he had said sink in, "I saw them, and... It sounds crazy, I know, but I saw them, they're okay."

  "You saw Tony, Molly and Robert?" she asked. "How, Frank, how?"

  "Annie, do you trust me?" Frank asked.

  "Of course, Frank, but my kids, you saw my kids, where are they, Frank, I want my kids, where are they!" she was crying harder but her voice had taken on a rough edge, a panicked pleading was mixed in with it.

  "Annie, trust me. I don't know where they are... Yes I do," he realized, "they're in Oklahoma, Annie, and they're safe. I can't tell you how I know, but they are there, and they are safe, you just have to believe that."

  She nodded her head as he spoke. "Annie, I have to go, right now, but you have to know some things before I go," he paused and motioned to Gary, who quickly walked over to them. "You have to come with us right now, Annie, we have something to do before we go, can you?"

  "Yes," Annie replied, as she continued to fight the emotions that were raging through her mind. She drew a deep shuddering breath. "Yes, I'm okay, let's go, Frank. For real, you really do know?"

  He kissed her before he answered, and let her go. "Yes, for real, and I really do love you, it'll be okay, I swear it," he said.

  "I know you d
o, Frank. I love you too, and knowing...Knowing will help me hang on," she replied.

  The three of them walked quickly toward the television station, meeting Jimmy along the way.

  "All set?" Frank asked.

  "All set," Jimmy answered, "Hank, will see to things here."

  They walked in silence to the station, and Ira met them at the door. "Think it'll work?" Gary asked him.

  "No way to know, but it can't hurt," Ira responded.

  Two hours later, Frank, Ira, and Jimmy, as well as Gary, were standing at the village of Fairport's main dock.

  "Several to choose from," Gary said, as he stared out over the muddy banked channel.

  "At least they're not all in the mud," Frank agreed. "Makes me wish we had John with us. I'd feel a heck of a lot better with him steering us out to the lake." They had gone to John before they left to find out which was the quickest way to get to the lake, without chancing a trip through the north side of the city. John had suggested Fairport, because of its man-made channel that served the lake.

  "Well, let's do it, Gentlemen," Ira said, as he walked across the concrete lip of the channel, and out onto a short pier. A length of yellow nylon rope was still bound, although it was pulled tight, around a wooden piling, and Ira followed the rope to its ending, at a fairly good sized fiberglass speed boat about three feet below them. Lilac City Baby, was stenciled just below the port side in script. After carefully untying the knot in the nylon rope; holding it tightly against the wooden piling as he did, allowing the tension to slowly bleed off, Ira jumped down the three feet to the deck.

  "Well?" he said looking up, "you guy's gonna just let me float away?"

  The remaining three men jumped down to the deck, as Ira made his way back to steering console.

  "No keys," he said frowning.

  "I can fix that," Jimmy said, "lemme see..." he reached his hand under the panel, and emerged with three pig-tail ends of wire. "I learned this at the jail," he said, as he slid two of the wires together, "listening to a kid we had in one night, talking about how he did it." The small red indicator light to the right of the switch lit up. "Now," Jimmy said, as he touched the remaining wire to the already connected two. "Presto-chango," he finished as the electric starter began to whir, turning the in-board motor over. He reached to the throttle and edged it forward slightly, while still holding the wires together with one hand. The engine caught, and the low burble of the motor came to him from the exhaust that bubbled up from the rear of the boat. "No probleemo," Jimmy said, as he released one of the wires. "I don't however, know how to drive this thing," he finished sheepishly.