by H. L. Wegley
So they were headed back to Eastern Oregon. There was only one way to end this stalemate and Hannan wanted it ended now. These six people—or was it seven—had given him far too much trouble and, in the process, wiped out two Ranger detachments, a Stealth Hawk and left only the incompetent and not-so-loyal Captain Deke alive.
Maybe this was a good thing after all. He’d found what Deke was made of before Hannan had to trust the man with POTUS’s life on the line.
It was time to call in an army to take out Daniels and company. No more black ops. No more detachments of special warfighters. He would bring a whole company after these rebels, with an arsenal that could wipe out an entire city.
“Sir?” Deke’s voice sounded far too confident after the meager information he’d given Hannan.
“Deke, you’re still fired.”
“What if I get Daniels for you?”
“You tried that and failed. Got all your men killed.”
“No, sir. I think some were only wounded.”
“You think? What’s that creed that you guys recite say about that?”
“I didn’t leave them in the hands of the enemy.”
“Blast it, Deke! You get my drift. You’re a failure and—”
“But what if I complete the mission and get Brock Daniels?”
“I’m not giving you any more men.”
“But I’ll need access to intel, sir?”
“You can have that. If you manage to kill Daniels, and have proof, maybe I’ll reconsider.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. President. When I kill Brock Daniels, you will have ample proof.”
Hannan terminated the call.
Deke had to know that there was no place for him in Hannan’s future plans, no place for failure. Deke was expendable. He had to earn his way back to Hannan’s good graces or the man was dead. Knowing that, Deke was certainly motivated enough to do the job, but could he?
His words played again in Hannan’s mind. “Don’t worry, Mr. President. When I kill Brock Daniels, you will have ample proof.”
He had sounded sure of himself, not cocky and not desperate.
So what did Deke know that he hadn’t told Hannan? He knew something. Regardless, with a company of Rangers, 200 highly trained executioners, Hannan didn’t need Deke.
Where Daniels and company would go next wasn’t hard to deduce. It wasn’t like they had many options left. They would be found in Central Oregon, surrounded by an overwhelming force, killed, and roasted by the media with all kinds of manufactured evidence, exposing Daniels as a ruthless, deceiving, power-hungry young man.
In the wake of Daniels’ death, Hannan could already see the red states recanting and the entire resistance crumbling. Then, he could end martial law and give the people what the progressives wanted, not that he gave a rip about that. Most of the citizens would love him, certainly those with a hand stretched out to the government. The others would be silent or they’d be prosecuted as criminals. And Hannan would rule until he grew tired of the role and passed it on to a person of his choosing.
With Daniels gone, life would be good and Hannan’s legacy would be a tribute to his greatness among all the world leaders in human history. He was so close to having it all and only one person stood in his way … a twenty-four-year-old kid with delusions of grandeur.
Chapter 20
The Van couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes from Happy Camp when Julia hit the wall. Fatigue she hadn’t experienced since her bout with Ebola turned her body into a blob of silly putty that seem to be conforming to the shape of Steve's shoulder.
They had only exchanged three words in the past four hours, “I’m so sorry.” Julia’s words. But they seemed to be enough to melt the polar ice cap that had formed after the shooting incident.
Steve leaned back in the seat and Julia's head slid into a comfortable position against his neck. She turned toward him and nestled into this place of security and … maybe much more.
His arm curled around her shoulders and his hand slid down her side until it found her hand.
Almost instinctively Julia’s free arm reached around Steve's waist. What would the others think seeing her wrapped around Steve and in his embrace? She had never allowed any man to hold her, let alone so intimately.
Exhausted, and with every muscle in her body aching from the brutal run, she didn't care what anyone thought. This felt too good to worry about trivial things.
Julia woke from her nap when the van stopped.
Jeff eased it forward, bouncing gently on its shocks and then brought it to a complete stop.
Benjamin stood and opened the side door. “I'll watch the main highway to make sure no one is curious about our hiding place.”
KC's hand touched Julia’s shoulder. “Get some rest you two. You need it. Brock and I want to check out the Klamath River.”
“Don't expose yourself along the river,” Benjamin said. “There may be fishermen and boats.”
“We'll stay hidden.” Brock's voice.
“Allie and I just want to walk around a bit, stretch our legs. But we’ll watch the van,” Jeff said as the van bounced to the rhythm of Allie's footsteps.
The van bounced again, then the driver’s door closed.
Julia was alone with Steve. So very tired, but no longer sleepy. She closed her eyes to rest them.
“You okay, Jules?” Steve's voice was low and soothing as he spoke softly near her ear. His first words in nearly five hours.
“Mmmhmmm. Except for the blister on my heel.”
Steve's muscles flexed, as he leaned forward.
“Don't move, please. My foot is fine.”
Steve relaxed beside her again and adjusted his arms, cradling Julia even more snugly. “You probably should try to sleep. We'll be traveling most of the night tonight.”
“Shouldn’t you sleep, too, Steve?”
“I'm tired, but a little…” His voice trailed off as he mumbled something that sounded like “distracted.”
In his arms, she was a distraction? Julia smiled, but kept her eyes closed. Now that Steve was talking to her again, she needed to keep the conversation going until they had worked through the events of five hours ago and their aftermath. “I must smell awful after all that running?”
“I’ve smelled worse.”
“Steve, that's no way to—”
“You ought to smell a detachment of Rangers when it's a hundred and twenty in Afghanistan. But you're different. I've never smelled anyone so…”
“Can we talk about something besides BO?” Another subject came to mind, but Julia didn't want to destroy this moment. She rephrased her question. “How long can a guy be a Ranger?”
“Once guys reach thirty-five or so, it's pretty tough. I’ve heard it gets really hard to stay in top shape. But then I hadn't planned to go career when I enlisted.”
Good. Steve had taken the subject where she wanted. “What about now?”
“I still plan to get out at some point.”
“When's your current enlistment up?”
“In about ninety days. But—”
“But your enlistment could be in limbo in ninety days if Hannan’s still around.” Julia opened her eyes and looked up at Steve's face.
He clenched his jaw. “Yeah. But any way you look at it, his days are numbered.”
At the moment, Julia was concerned that her days with Steve might be numbered. Craig wanted Steve in DC. Deke wanted Steve dead. And she wanted him right where he was, by her side. “Did you make any plans for after you leave the Army?”
“I … well … Julia, I did two rotations in Afghanistan. I saw kids orphaned by the war. I saw little girls married off to what in America we call pedophiles. I saw young boys abused by perverts in positions of authority. The US government told us it was just their culture, but it was pure evil embedded in their worldview—reduce people to nothing more than a man’s property and you can do anything you want to them. I was ordered to ignore it, all of it.” Steve�
��s voice grew intense. “But I couldn’t. I did some things that could have gotten me in a lot of trouble, but Craig bailed me out.” Steve's sigh sounded more like a moan. “If I knew how, I'd like to help kids who have no one to care for and protect them.”
Had someone told Steve to tell her this? Someone who knew her hopes and dreams. Maybe Jeff or Allie? “You're not pulling my leg are you?”
“No. Do I need to? You got a charley horse after all that running?”
She'd given herself a lot of reasons not to fall for a man like Steve. But since she first met him, she had a feeling there was more to Steve than her concept of a warrior. And she had misjudged him, badly. But even worse, she’d said things she shouldn't have.
Julia tried to blink back her tears, but they fell, followed by a steady stream that ran down her cheeks and splashed onto Steve's hand.
“What's wrong, Julia? You're crying.”
“My dream…” Her voice broke, more tears came. When her voice returned it quivered as she tried to speak. “My dream was to start an orphanage somewhere in Central America. But that's almost impossible for a young, single woman to do on her own.” She stopped. Had she said too much?
Steve didn't reply. He remained silent, holding her for a moment. His lips kissed her forehead, tenderly.
How could two people with such different views on important issues share the same dream? But it was true. And Steve's skills and his drive to protect others, after the guilt from his sister's death, could certainly protect Julia and a group of orphans.
Was God orchestrating something here?
The van bounced on its shocks as Benjamin bounded through the door. Steve's body tensed and he dropped Julia’s hand.
“Stand down, Steve. No reason to get excited, yet. But I've seen two state patrol cars pass by on the highway in the past fifteen minutes. And we’re out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Brock now stood beside the open van door with KC behind him. “Which way were they headed?”
Benjamin’s long sigh sounded like a punctured tire. “Toward Happy Camp.”
The magical moment had ended. Steve sat up in the seat. “Deke. I'd bet on it. He's putting the word out about us.”
Julia had caused this. The sick feeling in her stomach grew to a nauseating knot. “I'm so sorry, Steve. It was my fault. I …” She couldn’t say the words. They would paint Steve in a bad light, too.
Steve looked down, peering deeply into her eyes. His look was intense, but she saw no condemnation.
“It's not your fault, Jules.” He spoke softly. “I was the one who aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.”
But she had influenced him. How could something she thought was right be so wrong? Julia had endangered everyone. She shouldn't be in this group. All she did was put their lives at risk.
A thought hit her so hard it flew out her mouth before she could stop it. “If that rocket had killed me, you would all be safe.”
Oh-no. Jeff and Allie were back. Julia had spoken too loudly. They had all heard her.
Benjamin’s gaze swung back and forth between her and Steve. He obviously understood the issue but wasn’t going to weigh in on it.
Steve cupped her chin and turned Julia's face toward his. “Jules, that's not the way to look at it. I made a mistake, but we're all okay. Rangers simply thank God they’re still alive and plan their next move.”
“That goes for Sayeret Matkal too,” Benjamin said as he looked into her eyes. He had probably deduced what happened but, like Steve, there was no condemnation in Benjamin’s eyes.
Julia didn't doubt their sincerity, but the truth didn't make her feel any better. Because the truth was she held too much sway over Steve. Yes, it meant he cared for her, but it also meant she could get them all killed if she tried to influence Steve to do anything other than follow his Ranger training and instincts.
Julia opened her mouth to voice her concern, then stopped when Steve’s satellite phone lit and flashed, indicating an incoming call.
Steve pulled out the phone. “It's Craig.”
Julia could guess where this phone conversation was going.
“Sir, permission to put this on the speakerphone? … I know, Sir … If we can't trust this group were toast … No, I have no problem with them hearing anything as long as it doesn't put you or your mission in jeopardy.” Steve switched on the speakerphone and the team crowded around Steve and Julia.
He placed the phone on the seat beside her.
“Captain Craig, here. How can I say this? I am so proud of you, all of you. You've performed on a par with a trained military force. Now, moving on to the main topic … what is the status of Captain Deke's Ranger detachment?”
Steve leaned toward the phone. “All of Deke's men are dead or severely wounded, but Deke got away about ten miles north of Happy Camp.”
“That's good news, Sergeant Bancroft. I don't think Hannan will be anxious to replace Deke's men after he lost eleven of them.”
“Twelve, sir. He lost a Stealth Hawk and its pilot, too.”
“Good grief, Bancroft! What have you been up to?”
“You don't want to know, sir. Suffice it to say, after Julia saved my life by flagging down the Stealth Hawk before it could fire on me, I took it out with a stolen thermobaric rocket and a grenade launcher.”
“And Miss Weiss wasn’t injured?”
“She's sitting right beside me, looking fine. Just a little tired after a five mile run up a mountain and a downhill marathon this morning, twenty-four miles.”
“This is the Julia Weiss who had Ebola six weeks ago?”
“One and the same, sir.”
Julia's cheeks grew warm. At least as warm as the looks Steve was giving her as he laid on a thick coat of praise.
“Now for the news.” Craig paused. “I received news about an hour ago from a source I cannot disclose that Kingsley Air Force Base just went red.”
Silence in the van.
“Well, somebody say something,” Craig said.
“Sir, might there be traitors still among the people on the base?”
“Bancroft, Hannan thinks they're all traitors. But, no. I heard that the entire fighter wing, which is mostly Air Guards, pledged allegiance to the Constitution and is opposing Hannan. And they are not acting under the command of Oregon’s true blue Governor … for obvious reasons.”
Steve frowned. “But doesn’t the adjoining civilian airport cause security concerns, sir?”
“Rumor has it that the base commander, fighter wing commander, and commander of the security forces had a heart-to-heart talk with the airport director and the operations manager. Other than a Hannan lone wolf attack there—”
“Lone wolf for Hannan? I don't think so, sir.” Steve chuckled.
“Only lone wolf Deke,” Julia spoke softly to Steve.
“Whose voice was that, Bancroft?”
“Julia, sir.”
“And she was talking to you in that voice?”
“Yes, I believe so, sir.”
“Now, how can I compete with that?”
“I don't believe you can, sir.”
Julia looked at Steve and their gazes locked, warm, inviting, but Julia knew what was coming.
“Bancroft … we need you back here. We need you, badly. Hannan's not going to replace Deke's men. He'll never trust Deke after your team nearly wiped them all out. So Hannan's not well protected, unless he runs for the DUCC.”
KC moved toward the sat phone. “Craig, KC here.”
“Ms. Banning … I mean Mrs. Daniels. Good to hear from you. I'll bet you’re going to tell me something about the DUCC.”
“Yes. As soon as you're finished with Steve.”
“Back to Sergeant Bancroft then. We've got a pilot at Kingsley who can fly you to a destination near DC. With one stop on the way, he can have you out here within five hours of departure from Kingsley, maybe faster if he pushes it. For our assault, we might need some innovative explosives work.”
J
ulia bit her lower lip and prayed that somehow Steve wouldn't go. But that wasn't a realistic expectation.
Steve leaned over the phone. “Getting to Kingsley could be a bit dicey. We'll have to proceed cautiously, and won't you need KC's help before I come, sir?”
“Eastern Oregon is getting redder by the minute. My guess is that all of Oregon but the Willamette Valley will go red. Steve, after KC plants her Trojan Horse and gets the information we need, you should head for Kingsley, immediately. We don’t know how long our window of opportunity will remain open.”
Chapter 21
“What time is it, Steve,” Julia whispered from his shoulder, her pillow since they had pulled out of their hiding place along Highway 26.
The van slowed.
“It’s time to get on I-5, Jules. About 2230.”
The van’s turn pressed her more snugly against Steve, a place she was coming to cherish. Also, a place she could lose forever when Steve left for DC to help Craig with the dangerous assault on Hannan.
“Next stop, Weed.” Jeff’s voice came from the front of the van.
“If we don’t get stopped along I-5,” Brock said.
Allie turned from her seat beside Jeff and looked toward the back of the van. “Well, I’m not going to stop praying until we exit at Weed.”
Jeff accelerated onto the freeway.
Inside the van it grew quiet.
Steve’s body stiffened ever so slightly against hers. He was watching, guarding. It was who Steve was, a protector. His experiences had in part made him that way, but it seemed his willingness to fight and kill if necessary came from something even deeper.
A thought hit Julia like the ring of a wake-up call. The whole issue must be a matter of conscience. For Steve, the warrior, his conscience told him he must kill evil aggressors to save innocent people, while her conscience told her never to kill a human being. And, didn’t the Bible say people shouldn’t violate their consciences, because that was like knowingly disobeying God?
If that was true, then she was wrong to try stopping Steve from doing what he believed was his duty.
This conclusion could remove the mountain between them and resolve the issue that prevented her from committing to a relationship with Steve. He had practically proposed to her at one point. He said he had been looking for someone to spend his life with and found no one until she came along.
