Cabal

by Mark Goodwin

  “You know, like believe the parts about math, and science, and history, but that doesn’t mean you have to accept the part about there not being a God.”

  “Seriously?” Micah turned back to his mother. “You guys are going to tell me this was all a joke when I turn thirty, right? Because you never formally owned up to the Santa hoax.”

  Josh wondered how Micah’s ideas and values had shifted so far from what he and Stephanie had tried to teach their son. “We’re going to church on Sunday. That debate is closed for discussion.”

  His phone rang. “Nicole. Hey.”

  “Josh, things are getting bad down here. A bunch of protestors tackled an armed security guard trying to deliver cash to a bank downtown.”

  “How did that happen? Didn’t the guy have a gun?”

  “Yeah, but evidently they encircled him, and kept getting closer and closer daring him to shoot. He didn’t and finally, the mob pounced on him and took the money bag.”

  “Let me guess, they divided the money equally like Robin Hood and his merry band of gentlemen.”

  “Not quite. One of the protestors tried to take off with the cash and another one of them took the guard’s gun and shot the other protestor in the back.”

  “What a tangled web of betrayal. Who could have imagined?”

  “It’s not funny, Josh. The police have issued a county-wide curfew over the incident. People aren’t supposed to be on the streets unless they’re going to or from work, the grocery, or somewhere like that. The police are setting up random roadblocks. It’s like something out of a movie!”

  “So, are you ready to come up here?”

  “Yes. Will you come to get me?”

  “I can’t come get you! I told you to come with us. You ignored that plea, then I begged you to ride up with Emilio. I’ve already started my new job. Between that and the house, I barely have time to sleep.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “It’s a road trip. You’ve driven farther than this before.”

  “Not when entire cities are being placed on lockdown.”

  “It’s just Tampa being placed on a curfew. Once you’re out of town, it will be smooth sailing.” Josh didn’t mention his carjacking incident.

  “It’s not just Tampa! Chicago, LA, New York, Miami. Haven’t you been watching the news?”

  “You don’t have to drive through any of those places.”

  “I have to go through Atlanta.”

  “Take the bypass. You have a gun.”

  “I can’t hit the broad side of a barn with that thing.” She regularly refused his invitations to go to the range.

  Josh said, “The bad guys don’t know that. Did you get extra gas like I told you?”

  She was quiet.

  “Did you at least fill up your tank?”

  “My tank is full, but that’s not going to get me all the way to Kentucky.”

  “Yeah, I tried to tell you that.”

  “Home Depot had a long line when I tried to go. Besides, the fuel cans were probably sold out anyway.”

  “Just start driving. If you get somewhere tomorrow and can’t get gas, I’ll come pick you up where ever you are.”

  “And abandon my car?”

  “Yeah. That’s the best I can do. If I come pick you up, you won’t have a car anyway.”

  “I was thinking you could like rent a car to come down and we’d take mine back.”

  “Nope. Even if I could come get you, I’d have to source twice as much fuel as you. I’d be making a round trip.”

  “Yeah, but you have enough gas to do that, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t.” He hated the situation. He already felt like he’d gotten off on the wrong foot at work because of the carjacking incident. He certainly couldn’t afford to miss the Patriot Pride demonstration on the following day.

  “Do you think Emilio would come to get me?”

  “Call him up. I’ll give you his number.”

  “I’m not going to call him!”

  “Then how will you know if he’ll come get you?”

  “Can’t you ask him for me?”

  “Oh, no! I’m not putting my foot in that bear trap!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not getting involved in all the why-can’t-her-boyfriend-bring-her and all of that. I survived high school by the skin of my teeth. I ain’t going back.”

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

  “I’m not doing it, Nicole. If you want him to come get you, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  “I can’t believe you’re making me do this!” she huffed.

  “Do you want his number?”

  “What is it?” she demanded.

  Josh gave her the number and ended the call.

  ***

  An hour later, Josh was catching up on his homework. He was watching the PBS documentary and studying the SPLC watch list.

  Emilio called.

  “Hey, brother. Did you find a place?” asked Josh.

  “I think so. But your sister just called me.”

  “I gave her your number. She’s in a jam. I’ve got a thing for work in the morning. I can’t possibly go get her.”

  “I guess I could drive down there tomorrow and come back Sunday.”

  “Please don’t feel like you have to do it for me. She’s had every opportunity to get here. She has a full tank. She could make it past Atlanta. I told her I’d come get her if she gets half way and can’t find gas.”

  “She sounds pretty upset,” Emilio said.

  “I bet she does. Did she tell you that she doesn’t have a boyfriend?”

  “I asked her why he couldn’t bring her. She said they broke up.”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Just remember what I told you about her.”

  “I think I’m going to go get her. I’ve got twenty gallons in reserve cans besides a full tank. I managed to fill up at a little place out here in Shelbyville.”

  Josh replied. “It’s up to you. If that’s what you want to do, I’ve got about another fifteen gallons here that you can take. Siphon off the gas from her car when you get there. Hopefully, you’ll be able to refuel somewhere, but you can’t count on it.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll take you up on that.”

  “Good. Bring those guns with you, and I’ll give you the cash I owe you. It might come in handy on your trip.” Josh opened a new maps window on his phone. “I doubt you’ll find much gas in Florida. You might get lucky and come upon some between Valdosta and Macon. After Macon, I wouldn’t stop until you’re at least fifty miles outside of Atlanta. And take 75. Don’t go through Nashville, whatever you do!”

  “Yeah, I learned that lesson coming up here.”

  “Come on by whenever. I’ll give you those gas cans.”

  “I’ll probably swing by tonight then. I’d like to head out first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m doing it for Nicole.”

  “I know. But still, she’s my sister. So, thanks.”

  “Sure.” Emilio paused. “I’m not going to lie. I’ve still got a thing for her.”

  “I can’t stop you, but remember, you’ve been warned.”

  CHAPTER 11

  A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife, temperate, sober-minded, of good behavior, hospitable, able to teach; not given to wine, not violent, not greedy for money, but gentle, not quarrelsome, not covetous; one who rules his own house well, having his children in submission with all reverence for if a man does not know how to rule his own house, how will he take care of the church of God?

  1 Timothy 3:2-5

  Josh arrived at Triangle Park in downtown Lexington on Saturday morning shortly after 11:00. Although Josh had never visited the city before, he was sure the intersection of Main Street and Broadway was normally much busier. He had no trouble finding parking on the street which was lined with boutique shops, bars, and restaurants. Several of the es
tablishments were closed. Others were open but had few patrons. The weather was mild and pleasant with a gentle breeze heralding the coming autumn.

  The first group Josh saw in the park was associated with the Occupy movement. Several had 99% signs, others had hand-written signs with slogans like Sold out again, and Good job, Wall Street. He counted about forty or so people milling around.

  The next group was far more organized. Sixty or seventy black-clad youths, mostly with face masks, waved red and black flags. Unlike the hand-made poster-board Occupy messages, the Antifa signs were professionally printed with a consistent design style. Josh recollected the research he’d done the night before. “I wonder why the SPLC watch list didn’t have these guys listed. They seem like a bigger threat than most of the groups I read about.”

  Then, Josh spotted his target. A gathering of around fifty people stood under a large American flag that was waving in the soft wind. Some wore military-style clothing. Most simply wore jeans and tee-shirts. He smiled at the messaging of one of the shirts which read If the government says you don’t need a gun… then you need a gun! Several of the people wore tee-shirts with a lion’s face colorized by the stars and stripes of the American flag. This was the same design Josh had seen on the Patriot Pride Facebook page.

  Some of them held signs. One read, If you don’t exercise your rights, they’re already gone. Another said, Now do you believe me? End the Fed! Another had the Roman numeral III and the words, We’re watching.

  Josh was surprised to see a black man in the group’s numbers. The man was clean-shaven, stood tall above most of the others, and wore an Iraq War veteran hat. “I thought these people were supposed to be all racists.” He began to feel like perhaps the SPLC website where he’d done much of his research was less reliable than his new SAC had led him to believe.

  A man with a gray beard and a 1776 cap approached Josh. He pointed at Josh’s join-or-die cap. “I like the hat.” The man was tall and slender with kind eyes and deep wrinkles on his face, as if prematurely aged by a hard life.

  “Yeah. Yours, too. I’m Josh.” He offered his hand to the man.

  “Pleasure.” The man shook hands with Josh. “The folks here call me Rev.”

  “Let me guess, you’re a preacher.”

  The man chuckled. “Used to be.”

  “What happened? Did you lose your faith?”

  “I didn’t. No. You might say I found it.”

  “Oh?”

  “My wife left me for the music director at the church where I pastored. My daughter is a professed atheist now.”

  “Wow, that’s tough. But, it’s not your fault. Did the church fire you over that or something?”

  “No. I stepped down. I’m a mechanic now. I always liked tinkering with motors and such. But the Scripture says that if you can’t keep your own house in order, you’ve got no business leading a church.”

  “Still, that’s a tough break. You’re not responsible for other people’s actions.”

  “I was soft, in the pulpit I mean. I spent more time studying commentaries about the Bible written by men than I actually spent reading God’s Word. I didn’t want to frighten people off with all that hellfire-and-brimstone preachin’. I figured you could just tell people about the love and mercy of God and that was good enough.

  “It worked—for a while. The board was happy with me. Attendance grew five to ten percent every year the whole time I was at the church. But I neglected to teach about the truth of God. You see, the reason the good news is so good is because the bad news is so bad.”

  Josh cracked a lopsided grin. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “Nope. That’s the only way of lookin’ at it,” said Rev.

  “Even so, I don’t think you can blame yourself if your daughter chose not to believe.”

  “I sent her to public school where they taught her that everything happened out of nothing and God is just a fairy tale. Then paid for her to go to a secular college where the very idea of a creator is laughed at. I spent my days busy with the salvation of a big church and dropped the ball on my own daughter.” Rev swallowed hard.

  “Most Christians send their kids to public schools.” Josh thought about the racism and agnosticism conversations he’d had with Micah over the past couple of days.

  “Yes, and most of those kids will leave the church as adults. Statistics say about 65%. I’m not suggesting people go to heaven for church attendance, but it’s a good indicator of where a person’s priorities are. And those are pretty bad odds, considering a child’s eternal destiny is on the line.

  “Statistics also tell us that roughly one in three public school girls will get pregnant as teenagers. So, you might say that as the father of a girl, my crime was much worse. Of course, statistics are always trailing indicators. The data collected for any given study is always at least a couple of years old. Times are much worse now than they were two years ago.”

  “I’m sure homeschooled kids have problems, too.” Josh tried to deflect the conviction brewing inside himself.

  “Oh, to be sure. But, they’re 95% less likely to try drugs or alcohol. And I suspect if a study were to be done, we’d find a similar percentile stay connected to God after college and avoid teen pregnancies.”

  Josh frowned at how readily his rebuttal had been dashed.

  Rev changed the subject. “But enough about me. This is the first time I’ve seen you around.”

  “Yeah, I just got to Kentucky last week. I saw the dominoes starting to fall and figured it was time to bug out.”

  “Bug out from where?”

  “Tampa.”

  “I bet you’re happy to be out of there. Where’d you end up?”

  “Frankfort.” Josh caught his mistake instantly. “Well, Versailles. I’m working in Frankfort.”

  “Small towns will probably do better than most of the country, but we’re all in for a wild ride. Where do you work?”

  “Vital Statistics.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, I know. Kind of boring, but somebody has got to do it.”

  “What did you do in Florida?”

  “DMV. Same type of work. If you prove that you’re capable of pushing the right button, you can get a job in about any records-based agency in the country. It sounds easy, it is easy, but you’d be surprised how hard it is to find people to just enter the information correctly into the computer.”

  “On the contrary.” Rev looked toward the Occupy and Antifa groups. “Considering what the public indoctrination system is pumping out these days, I’m surprised anything gets done correctly. But, I reckon all of that is about to change.”

  “Oh yeah? What do you think is coming next?”

  “The New World Order. It almost sounds cliché, we’ve been saying it for so long now. But it’s finally here.”

  “And what do you think that entails?”

  “You saw the interview with the Chairman of the Federal Reserve, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “That didn’t strike you as funny?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s the Sugar Coater in Chief—the highest appointed official in charge of telling you everything is going to be okay. He could have a cannibal chewing on his foot and still tell you GDP is up 2%, inflation is flat, and the economic outlook for the country is all roses and dreamsicles.”

  “So what do you think that means, the fact the Fed Chairman admitted that the ship is going under?”

  “It means they’ve decided to pull the plug. We’re going to sweep the old system under the rug and usher in a one-world government complete with a global cashless currency.”

  “Where did you hear that?” Josh figured someone from DHS must have leaked the information.

  “The Bible, mainly. But folks have been talking about this for decades. Now it’s here.” He looked toward the protestors on the other side of the park once more. “These young folks have been wanting a revolution, to get rid of capita
lism; hope and change, and all of that. Well, they’re fixin’ to get it. I hope they like it because this one is going to be around for a while.”

  Rev waved his hand. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to some of the others.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Josh followed him.

  “This is Solomon.” Rev motioned toward the Iraq War Vet.

  “Nice to meet you.” Solomon smiled and shook Josh’s hand.

  Rev pointed to a guy who looked more like he might belong with Occupy or Antifa. He was pudgy, yet wore tight pants which tapered at the ankles, he had thick glasses and an unkempt beard. “This is Poochy. He used to work for Google. He blew the whistle on them for burying content that doesn’t align with their political agenda. You’d think the mainstream media would have loved another story about utilizing the internet for election campaigns, but it turns out that they are only interested if it suits their narrative. Anyway, he’s essentially blacklisted from working for any big tech companies.”

  “Good to meet you. I’m Josh.” He shook the techie’s hand wondering how he’d gotten the strange nickname.

  “This beautiful young lady is Christina. She’s also a former soldier who is out here to try to make a better world for her daughter. Besides being a single mom who brings home the bacon, she homeschools her 16-year-old daughter.” Rev gave the woman a hug. “I’m proud of you, Christina. I know it’s tough.”

  “How do you do it?” Josh asked.

  “I don’t watch much television,” she said succinctly. “But honestly it takes about an hour and a half to give a child a better education than what they get in six hours at a communist training camp.”

  “Communist training camp?” Josh knew she was talking about public schools but wanted to see how she could validate such a bold statement.

  She motioned at the other protestors. “You judge a tree by its fruit.” She turned to Rev. “Isn’t that what the Good Book says?”

  “Indeed it is.” Rev smiled.

  Josh felt challenged by the rhetoric he was hearing. He wondered if every undercover agent had this same experience.