Josh adjusted the sleeves of his suit as he shifted in place and looked around the church. Everyone was smiling and happy. The joy being exhibited was a stark contrast to the grim and worrisome faces he had seen for the last several months.
In the front two pews sat a healthy collection of close friends. On one side were Mama Mimi and her new French lover, Jacques, President Sarkes and his ever present shadow, Agent Monahan, along with the Sheriff and his wife and daughter. On the other, were the three remaining Tin Foil Hat Club members, Bryan, and Josh’s former sister-in-law, Kristin. Behind them were the mayors and associates from the neighboring towns. The townsfolk and numerous residents from Lake Hope filled the rest. As Samantha and Dallas took their places, before a single word was uttered, Alysin began weeping.
“Please be seated,” the Reverend stated. “We are gathered –,”
Before he could finish, the Sheriff’s walkie crackled to life.
“Come in! Come in! Anyone there? Damn piece of junk!” echoed throughout the church amid the static of the transmission.
Jim hastily grabbed at the device on his belt as he headed for the front doors and better reception. The entire congregation watched on in anticipation.
“This is Sheriff Watson, identify.”
“F— Hoplite,” came the haggard response.
Heather reflexively held her breathe at the resonating broadcast.
* * *
A four man team of French Foreign Legion soldiers trudged their way down the steep hillside. The men half stumbled and tripped in the dense underbrush as they did so. By the time they made it back to the column head and their commanding officer, a Sergeant was finishing up his assessment of what remained in the town.
“Oui, Mon Capitaine. There don’t appear to be any residents. I’d say it burned to the ground in the spring.”
“Very well. And you?” Capitaine Philip Marceau asked as he turned his attention to the returning men. “What did you find up there?”
“By all appearances, it seems there was a OP sitting just below the crest of the hill.”
“They probably torched it with the town,” he replied dismissively.
“Je crois que non, (I think not,)” the man answered in French. “Il y avait des braises. Ce était récente… au cours des deux derniers jours. (There were embers. It was recent… in the last two days.)”
“Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit? (What did you say?)”
“I found shell casings all over the place,” his mother, Colonel Sophie Desjardins, announced as she inspected the few in her hand. “Those cars are full of holes from large caliber weapons fire and all of the road signs are missing too.”
“Merde!” her son exclaimed from atop his horse drawn wagon.
“Mon Capitaine!” a Private called out as he too approached. “Il ya une traînée de sang ici. (There’s a blood trail over here.)”
“Where!?” Philip proclaimed.
“In between the two cars,” the man replied in heavily accented English.
Slowly, the Captain surveyed his surroundings trying to make sense of the information being presented. He quickly stood so he could turn and retrieve his map from the communication officer’s satchel. As the he flipped it open, the pages snapped taught.
Why would an outpost be burned months after the town was ransacked, he thought to himself. What the hell is going on? All of the road signs and landmarks are missing or destroyed. Two disabled vehicles block the road and they’re riddled with weapons fire.
Making the best decision he could with the information at hand, he declared, “We turn south, Mon Colonel. This is Route 93. McArthur is twenty miles in that direction,” he concluded as he pointed.
The men started loading back up when Sophie abruptly shushed them. “Everyone quiet!” she stated harshly, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. “Do you hear that? What is that?”
The one hundred strong force representing three platoons of the Foreign Legions 2nd Foreign Infantry Regiment became instantly silent, ceasing all movement at the Colonel’s terse command.
“Sont-ils cloches de l'église? (Are they church bells?)” her son asked quietly.
The soldiers looked around, expecting their eyes to aid them in pinpointing what they were hearing.
“Non, mon cher fils. Cela ressemble cloches de marriage, (No, my dear son. That sounds like wedding bells,)” his mother replied with a smile.
Chapter 20
The mid summer’s heat continued to beat down on the slow moving convoy as it made its turn off of Route 93 onto McArthur’s tiny Main Street. In front of them stood a solitary figure.
“Qui est-ce? (Who is that?),” the Second Class Legionnaire (Private) said as he brought the horse drawn wagon to a halt fifty yards short of the man.
“Looks like the Prefect of Police,” his CO replied in his native tongue. “Wait here. I’ll go see what this is about.”
As the Foreign Legion Captain approached, Sheriff Watson slowly, deliberately moved his hand to the butt of his side arm. It wasn’t unnoticed.
“What’s the phrase from your movies? We come in peace? I am Capitaine Philip Marceau. Are you the Prefect?”
“Foreign troops on American soil doesn’t scream ‘peace’, bub, and I have no idea what a ‘Prefect’ is, so who about you translate for me,” Jim replied.
“Uh, Prefect… it’s like the police,” Philip answered as he continued his approach.
“I am the Sheriff of this town. That’s close enough el Capitaine.”
“Monsieur, I’m French, not Spanish.”
“But you ain’t American, and that’s a big problem. You say you come in peace?”
“Oui.”
“We?”
“Means ‘yes’.”
“Okay, prove it. Tell your men to lay down their weapons.”
“Not all French soldiers surrender at the first sign of trouble. You have been watching too many films.”
“Is that right?”
“Oui, I mean, yes,” Capitaine Marceau stated as he slowly began moving his hand to his own sidearm.
“Have it your way,” Jim replied and made a quick circling motion with his arm as he whistled loudly.
The roar of engines could be heard all around them as vehicles were cranked up and quickly moved into position, blocking every direction. Large yellow school busses blocked the road in front and behind. Deuce’s and Humvee’s with their top mounted Browning’s wheeled to their places, taking the north and south. Windows were flung open with abandon. The glass replaced with the barrels of long guns and shotguns poking through the opening. Foreign Legion troops instinctively began reaching for their weapons in defense.
Above them, on the roof tops, men and women peered over the edge of buildings, weapons trained on the stopped convoy. The clicking of safeties and the clacking of rounds and shells being chambered filled the narrow death box of a street.
As the last of the residents fell into position, Sheriff Watson said, “You were saying?”
Capitaine Marceau removed his hand from the sidearm and made a slow turn, taking in his new surroundings.
“Did you really think we weren’t watching every road?”
“Very impressive display of force. You’ve effectively blocked all means of escape and taken the high ground,” Philip responded impressed. “I thought this town might have had eyes.”
The Sheriff smiled broadly.
“Les positions défensives!” the Capitaine barked abruptly.
Without warning, two columns of soldiers wearing green and brown T41 camouflage, body armor, and bush hats quickly exited a narrow alley and began dispersing up and down Main Street. Their FAMAS assault rifles securely abutted to their shoulders, up, and at the ready.
“And what do we have here?” Capitaine Philip Marceau announced in accented English
It was the Sheriff’s turn to observe his new surroundings.
“Looks like we got ourselves a Mexican standoff to me,” he stated in a
nonchalant manner.
“I told you, we’re French, not Spanish,” Philip growled.
“Uh oh,” Jim proclaimed as he nodded for the man to look behind him.
“Philip,” his mother whispered hoarsely from behind him. “I think you should reconsider your position.”
He quickly turned to see her in a headlock with a Glock pointed at her head. Calmly, he glanced around and beyond her assailant. The remainder of his force was standing in the street with their weapons on the ground and hands in the air. Had he had the time to count, he would have been astounded. Philip’s ninety odd men were outnumbered almost three to one.
“Like he said, did you really think we weren’t watching every road in an out of this town,” Hoplite growled.
President Sarkes and the wedding party slowly emerged from the church doors. Tom glanced at the nearest soldier and observed the French flag patch and ‘Foreign Legion’ identification badge that were staring him in the face.
“Ne tirez pas, (Don’t shoot,)” he stated calmly to the soldier. “Permettez- moi de vous expliquer que vous êtes amis. (Let me explain that you are friends.)”
“Oui,” the Sergeant grunted.
The former President began making his way onto the street, toward Hoplite. “Captain Rayna,” he called out. “These men are Foreign Legion. Look at their insignia. They are allies.”
Philip turned ever so slightly to afford Carlos the view he was seeking. He was weak, but was able to discern the vertical red, white, and blue striping of the French national flag. With a grunt he let her loose and said, “Here, you can have your Colonel back.”
The ordeal from the previous day, coupled with activity far too soon after surgery, taxed the man and he half collapsed. To keep himself from falling over, Hoplite quickly recovered and was able to take a knee to steady himself.
“Carlos!” Heather exclaimed as she shot from the front of the church and started to rush toward him. Before she was halfway down the street, Philip reached out to help him. He didn’t have to see the man’s wounds to know he was wounded, he could smell it.
“Monsieur, you should be in hospital.”
“I’ll live,” he groaned as Heather rushed over.
“Looks like I made it to Josh’s wedding after all,” he said jokingly as the pair began helping him across the street.
“Josh?” Sophie asked herself quietly. She trained her eyes on the front of the church. “Il ne peut pas être, (It can’t be,)” she declared as she followed the three toward the bride and groom.
The former POTUS made his way toward her, stopping her progression. With an extended hand, he introduced himself to the French Officer. “I’m President Thomas Sarkes, and you are?”
“Colonel Sophie Desjardins,” she stated as she accepted the handshake. “And this is my son, Capitaine Philip Marcaeu.”
Now it was Josh’s turn to be shocked.
“Sophie? What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Josiah,” she replied with a warm smile.
“Do you know her, Josh?” Sam inquired from behind him.
“I should say so, Madame. I’m the one that shot him.”
“No freakin’ way!” His daughters exclaimed almost in unison as they exited from behind their father.
“Philip? Look at you!” one continued. “You’re all grown up!”
“Layla and Katherine, right?” he replied just as astonished and quickly approached, leaving Heather to get Carlos into the church by herself.
Sheriff Watson grabbed his walkie and announced, “Stand down, folks. They’re friendlies.”
Weapons immediately withdrew from the open windows as quickly and efficiently as they had filled the void.
“Enchanté,” Philip said as he took each young woman’s hand and kissed it in turn.
Josh’s daughters giggled in response.
“How did you find your way here?” Josh asked Sophie.
“That is a matter best held in private, Monsieur Simmons,” her son replied candidly.
She gave Philip a disapproving look, but added, “He is correct. We should discuss this privately after,” she declared. “It looks like we’ve interrupted.” Then it dawned on her. “This… this your wedding? Josiah has finally found love again?”
“Oui,” Samantha said as she exited from behind him in her shimmering white gown carrying an AR-10. She handed the incongruous weapon to Hoplite as he and Heather made their way into the church.
Sophie was taken aback at the image of a bride with a weapon.
“Is this what it is has come to, then?”
“Sadly, yes. I’m Samantha,” she stated as she extended her hand.
The Colonel stepped through the handshake and kissed her on each cheek. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Sophie Desjardins.” She repeated the gesture on Josh. “It is so good to see you again, my old friend.”
“Come,” Sam said. “Join us. We were about to get started when the warning bells went off.”
“No, we couldn’t impose like that.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. The more the merrier, I insist.”
* * *
“Please be seated,” the Reverend began. “We are gathered here today, in front of friends and family, in the sight of God, to join Josiah and Samantha in holy matrimony. Over the last several months, I’ve had an opportunity to speak and work with both. Typically, when a couple plans to marry, we talk, and listen, and I watch them interact. Once I have a fair sense of their relationship, I then provide guidance on any issues that might befall the union.
“In all my years as shepherd of this church, and others, the majority of the couples that I worked with needed to address many things, but chief among them is communication…” the reverend continued as his assembled flock listened. Josh and Sam heard nothing except the other’s breathing.
As the two stood before God, they were equally overcome with the joy, hope, and optimism that, together, they would navigate their way through the seemingly never ending array of chaos around them.
When the preacher’s words came back in to focus, they heard, “Now, the world as we knew it was irrevocably altered, but, in many ways, it has been both a blessing and a curse. We’ve lost friends and loved ones as a result, yes. However, what I’ve witnessed recently pales in comparison. This small town in America’s heartland got its identity back. The old adage about neighbor helping neighbor is no longer reserved for Norman Rockwell and his calendars. For God said, ‘love thy neighbor’, and that my dear friends is what I see before me each and every day. The lack of electricity forced husbands and wives to talk, children to hear, and friends and neighbors to show genuine compassion.”
Then the preacher directed his comments at Sam, “Samantha,” he began. “Prior to your arrival, the man standing here, he didn’t exist. Aspects of him were there, but the entirety was broken, metaphorically speaking. His spirit crushed, his fire dampened, his thoughts dark and wrought with anger and despair. Piece by piece, through your kindness, encouragement, drive, and antagonism, he is once again whole. The transformation we have witnessed in him is entirely of your doing. Well, maybe not all your doing, per se. He might have helped a little,” the man said as stole a quick glance upward.
The congregation chuckled.
“In fact, the etymology of his very name, Josiah, in ancient Hebrew, means ‘healed by God’.” He turned his head slightly toward Josh and continued. “However, while Samantha was aiding you in your healing process, you my friend, have had a similar and profound, effect on those around you as well,” the preacher stated as he took Sam’s hand.
Josh looked at the two confused.
“Samantha, with the help of some friends, has expressed her desire to recite a few words. My guess is you have no idea just how much you mean to this community and the people you’ve encountered throughout the winding journey of your life.” Then the man leaned in real close and whispered, “I’ve heard most of them, I dare you not to cry.”
Brent steppe
d around Josh and handed Sam a folded piece of paper.
She cleared her throat and began, “You and I have been through so very much that it’s hard to imagine it’s only been a year and half. It actually feels like an entire lifetime has already been spent by your side. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing either, but we persevered. In talking with the assortment of friends and family that have graced the cabin, one thing kept repeating. No matter what memory or story was shared, there was the same recurring theme… ‘and there was Josh’. So with their help, I asked some of those friends and family members to jot down their thoughts. The poem is titled, ‘And There You Were’.”
Sam unfolded the paper and began reading the words she had written for the occasion.
“My life was a shambles. My father had been taken from me. I was wounded and cold. And there you were. Holding my hand and telling me everything would be alright.”
She quietly folded the note as James stepped out of the line of groomsmen and glanced at his palm as he read.
In a shaky voice, he continued the poem.
“Our friend had fallen, and so had I. I was broken, unable to see through the fog. And there you were. Standing on my doorstep, dragging me to other side of grief.”
“I, too, was broken in every way possible,” Gregg started with a lump in his throat. “My child was gone, my wife incapable of being found. And there you were. Staring me in the eye, proving that is was possible to survive the depravity of man.”
Heather then stepped forward.
“As I prepared myself for the worst day of my life, I didn’t think anyone could possibly understand my pain. And there you were. Whispering hints and clues from shadows, showing me that it’s never too late to re-build and discover my family.”
“After hours of surgery, and days of recovery, I finally awoke. And there you were. You had driven cross country to collect my parents and bring them to the hospital, displaying the true meaning of friends,” Dallas added.
By the Dawn's Early Light Page 25
