by H. L. Wegley
But Julia’s answer, based on conscience, seemed too simplistic. Did it square with God’s moral absolutes? It was a bit relativistic. That’s what Brock would say, just before he destroyed her reasoning with apologetical arguments and theology. He would say killing was either right or wrong and she needed to come to a conclusion, the correct conclusion.
But not tonight. She would cling to her simple answer for now, and Brock didn’t have to know anything about it.
A second wake-up came as a blow to the side of her head. Steve’s arm had bumped her as he swiveled in his seat to look back. “Jeff, there’s a vehicle in the left lane that’s been closing fast for the past mile. Just now, it slowed and swung in behind us.”
Seats creaked throughout the van as everyone turned to look.
Benjamin, gun in hand, moved to the side door. “Remember our plan. If we get stopped, Jeff pulls over. I disable the police car with a short burst, and keep shooting at it until we drive away. Believe me, the officer will be down in the floor board until I stop firing. We get away. His car is damaged, so he can’t follow, and no one gets hurt.”
“It’s a good plan, but we don’t need it,” Jeff said. “The car took the exit.”
Julia took a deep breath. She let it out slowly and nestled against Steve’s neck.
His arms slid around her and held her. He could use a shower, but then so could she. Now, where was she?
Another thought startled Julia. This relatively uneventful run for the other side of the mountains was becoming mental gymnastics, a metaphysical roller-coaster ride. Taxing her mind when she was exhausted was not what Julia wanted, but the question that arose would plague her until she answered it.
When Steve got the call from Craig to go to DC, would he go? If her and the rest of the group’s safety were in doubt, would Steve go anyway and make the assault on Hannan, an assault that could end this American dystopian misadventure? She wasn’t sure.
One thing Julia was sure of … if he refused to go, it would be because of her. She had witnessed the sway she had over Steve when he wouldn’t shoot to kill Deke and his sergeant. And, as unlikely as it seemed, Julia Weiss, with her influence over warrior, Steve Bancroft, could alter the history of the United States … maybe the history of the world.
Just thinking that was beyond crazy. Surely she was blowing things out of proportion, thinking irrationally, or something. But, the more she analyzed it, the more the logic seemed to hold. She might cause the assault to fail, leaving Hannan in control.
This was more than ironic. How could wimpy Julia, the weak link, the one who didn’t belong in this group of awesome people—people born for greatness like Brock and KC Daniels, world-class athletes like Jeff Jacobs, world-class warriors like Steve and Benjamin, and Allie, the beautiful, Hispanic woman who glued them together like a family and mothered them all—how could Julia end up holding their destiny in her hands?
When the time came, if Steve vacillated in his decision to go to DC, she would have to make the right choice, not for Julia Weiss and not for Steve Bancroft, not for their consciences, but for the entire nation.
God, please, you’ve got to help me with this.
* * *
Like the other six people in the van, Steve sat silently for the next two hours while Jeff drove Highway 97 as fast as possible without drawing undue attention.
Nearly everyone was on edge, watching for that set of headlights that could signal trouble.
Jeff turned and glanced back into the darkness of the van’s cabin. “Ten minutes to Chemult.” He kept his voice down because one member of the group was sleeping, Julia. “A couple of miles north of Chemult, we veer off 97 onto Forest Service roads. Then we'll be safe in the backcountry all the way to Sisters.”
No one replied, but it seemed that everyone relaxed a little in their seats. They were going to make it, barring a last minute encounter with police, which appeared unlikely in this remote area.
Julia must have been exhausted. She slept most of the way except for the one stop where Jeff risked getting food and water for them at a small store outside of Klamath Falls, red territory, supposedly.
Each time Julia woke, she would draw a few deep breaths, wiggle her feet, sigh, and snuggle closer to him … if that was possible. Her arm was inside his ragged shirt. If she tried getting any closer, he was going to stop her invasion.
He chuckled softly. She would be mortified to think she had violated the bounds of propriety.
His chuckling roused her.
Here we go again.
“Jules…” He whispered. “I think you need to—”
“Oh.” She sat up and pulled her arm out from the rip in his shirt, the place it had been tucked inside for the past half hour. “Steve, I … didn't know.” She folded her hands in her lap and sat shaking her head. “You should've said something. I was behaving like some hormonal teenager in my sleep.”
“Asleep?” Brock's voice came from the back seat. “That's too bad, you didn't even get to enjoy it.”
Steve glanced at Brock's big, shadowy silhouette behind him. “That sounds like a newlywed to me. We don't need advice from the newlyweds.”
“I don't know…” Brock paused. “I'd say some bonding’s been going on since you two ran off together in the woods.”
“Don't tease them, sweetheart.” KC's voice, soft and rather alluring.
Alluring. Just thinking in those terms told Steve he’d totally lost his focus.
The van veered sharply to the left. “Hang on, people. I almost missed the turn. Okay, we’re on National Forest Service Road 200. We're safe for the next four hours, unless I get us lost out here.”
Maybe it was time to get them all back on track. In a little over four hours, they would be at Julia's house and they needed to hit the ground running.
Steve cleared his throat. “You all know things are coming to a head. It's only a matter of days, or possibly hours, until Craig goes after Hannan, all the way down to the DUCC, if need be. I suggest we decide what we need to do to support that effort and make it succeed.”
“Don't we also need a plan … in case Craig fails?” Jeff hesitated as he spoke the words.
“Your plan would be pretty simple, Jeff,” Steve said. “Run to the nearest place where you can ask for asylum. Probably Kingsley Air Force Base. Hannan would be hopping mad, looking for people to blame and people to kill. But he wouldn't attack an Air Force Base.”
“Come on, guys.” Brock's voice rose. “We need to be planning for success, here.”
“For success…” KC said, “… I need to develop my little gift for Hannan, then I need a lot of Internet access time. I've got to detect him while he’s on the White House networks in order to deliver the gift.”
Steve turned toward KC sitting behind him. “Sounds like a long shot, catching him online and hacking his laptop when you don't even—”
“You worry about your own responsibilities, Mr. Bancroft. I left a back door on his laptop when all this started six weeks ago. Hannan’s only partially computer capable and, after I examined his laptop in his study, he’s paranoid about letting anyone touch it. I'm betting that the back door’s still open. I've got the Israeli military laptop with satellite capability. But to be safe, I think we need two more laptops. One for Brock's blogging and a backup machine, just in case.”
“Major Katz gave me ID and a credit card.” Benjamin said. “Is there a safe place to buy the laptops we need?”
“Yeah,” Jeff said. “The Super Walmart in Redmond. We can pick up food and other supplies there, too.”
“You know…” KC paused. “I left my … uh … actually Julia's old laptop at Jeff’s and Allie's the day that I—the day I’d like to forget.”
“We don’t want to forget all of it, Kace,” Brock spoke softly.
“No. Not all of it. But the laptop might still be there.”
“We can stop by and see since we’ll be in the vicinity,” Allie said.
“Steve?” J
eff’s voice rose half an octave, begging for help.
The source of his angst had to be the four bodies of Hannan’s black ops team they had left in the living room of the Jacob’s house nearly a month ago … a month of hot summer weather.
“If we swing by, I’ll run in and get the computer equipment. I know how to disconnect it and which cables we need.” KC was sharp. She had been there and realized the horror Allie would have at seeing the state of her living room … and perhaps smelling it.
Brock shuffled in his seat. Evidently, he wanted to distract Allie from focusing on her house, too. “You know, I haven't blogged since the day before our wedding, four days ago. The people need to hear something. No telling how Hannan will spin my lack of blogging, especially after his attempt on our lives. He might be claiming we’re dead.”
Julia took Steve's hand and gave him a warm glance. “It sounds like you'll need my house for a while for Internet access and a place to stay. It's got six bedrooms.”
“But, now, we only need five of them.” KC's voice was low and soft. Maybe meant only for Brock's ears.
Steve looked down at the shadowy image of his and Julia's clasped hands. Maybe someday they could have a rebels’ reunion and they would only need four bedrooms.
As he learned more of Julia's secrets, her strengths, which she seemed oblivious to, and about her hopes and dreams, Steve wanted her in his future. And maybe she—
“Seriously…” Julia sat up in her seat, “… how long do you think we can stay at my place before Hannan comes looking for us there?”
Steve had been pondering the question for much of the van ride. “Eventually, he’ll send someone to check out the place. But keep in mind, this area is getting redder by the minute, and the Air Force Base will make him think twice before starting anything over here.”
“I don't think Hannan has the stomach for a real civil war,” Brock said.
But that didn't eliminate the danger to them. “Brock's right, but think about this … twice Hannan has sent a small team of his elite Special Forces in a black operation and he's failed both times. He'll come, but I believe it will be with a much bigger force and an operation that’s been carefully planned.”
“And so how long, Bancroft?” Brock asked.
“I think we'll have two or three days, then all bets are off.”
“Then we need another evacuation plan,” Benjamin said. “But you all know the area much better than I do. If we have to hide again, it must be in a place where we cannot be observed by air or satellite.”
“I know a place,” Jeff said.
“Jeff…” Allie looked his way. “Please don't tell me you're thinking of the Skylight Cave?”
“You know what they say about great minds, Allie.”
“But mine is thinking about that cave in a negative sense.”
“Tell us about the cave.” Benjamin squeezed Jeff’s shoulder. “Then we can decide.”
“Well, it's a lava tube, running parallel to the ground, about eight miles southwest of Sisters. It has cracks in the ceiling along the length of the cave, providing some light during the day. The cave is about a quarter-mile long, so it has places inside to hide. It will be cool during the day, while the temperature outside is in the high nineties. But we might need blankets at night. If I remember correctly, the cave temperature hovers in the sixties this time of year.”
“But we won't have water or … you know, facilities,” Julia said.
Steve looked down into the dark eyes peering back at him. “Neither did the pioneers.”
“I guess we’ll manage.” Julia sighed in resignation.
“Come on, Jules. We did just fine on Bolan Mountain.”
“But we had nothing to eat, little water, and we ran a marathon so … you know … we didn't need to …”
“Point taken.” Jeff chuckled. “Hey, you have two special forces dudes here, survival experts, who can probably turn that cave into something with all the conveniences of home.”
Jeff yanked the wheel to the right. “Sorry, guys. Big pothole in the road. You know, we'll need transportation. They might have a description of this van.”
Brock tapped Steve on the shoulder. “Ask your girlfriend about that SUV parked in her garage.”
KC slapped Brock's leg. “That's enough, Brock.”
The van went silent, except for the sound of the purring engine.
Julia looked up at Steve. “Well, are you going to just leave it like that, Steve?”
Darkness hid her lips. Was she smiling? It looked like it. And she was waiting.
Steve cleared his throat. “Julia's not the girlfriend type.”
Her head snapped up, eyes focused on his face.
“I mean she’s the all in or all out type. Courtship headed toward the altar, or nothing at all.”
Even the darkness couldn't hide her smile. “That's pretty good for a guy who's only spent one night with me.”
“Come on, guys.” Allie had turned sideways in her shotgun seat. “This conversation is going downhill in a hurry. It needs to be a little more productive.”
Julia leaned close to Steve and whispered. “I thought it was very productive.” She squeezed his hand and sat up. “About the SUV … it belonged to my grandparents. It came with the house. I've never driven it, but I have the keys and it's practically new. If you pull up the rear seat, it seats seven.”
“Great,” Jeff said. We can hide the white van in the garage and drive the SUV.”
“What about weapons?” Brock asked. “We only have two M4s and the handgun Benjamin gave me at Jeff's place.”
Brock leaned forward toward Benjamin. “What happened to the bodies of Blanchard's Rangers and their equipment after Major Katz killed them all in that firefight?”
“We buried the bodies, Brock. They are hidden along the Deschutes River below Steelhead Falls,” Benjamin said. “We wrapped their weapons and ammo in plastic and buried them south of the trailhead.”
“We’ll have our own arsenal,” Steve said. “Are the weapons and ammo usable?”
“Some are. But some were damaged by explosions during the fight. We didn't have time to check them out and couldn't take extra weapons with us, so we buried everything, together.”
“Let's see …” Brock tapped the seat behind Steve with his finger. “There were about fifteen men when the second detachment surprised you. We should be able to get at least one M4 for each of us.” When Julia turned her head toward Brock, he looked directly at her.
“Yes.” Benjamin said “That's about right.”
“I don't want one,” Julia said and looked away from Brock.
Brock blew out a sharp blast of air. “Julia, Hannan's men are like animals. We've seen that. If they got you—”
“Stop it, Brock.” KC said. You can't do that to her—force her to do something she doesn't—”
“It's all right, KC,” Julia said. “Brock's right. Just having a gun might deter them, even if I don't shoot anyone.”
“Changing the subject,” KC said. “I just remembered that we took the router from your house, Julia. We have no way to connect to the Internet except one hardwired connection on your modem. Brock and I both need to be online.”
“Kace, doesn’t your Israeli laptop have satellite communications built in?”
“Yes. But what if I have trouble connecting to a usable satellite over here?”
“KC, aren't we picking up your laptop from our house,” Allie asked.
“If it's still there.”
“Then you can borrow our wireless router.”
“That works,” KC said.
Steve sat up in his seat and scanned the group in the van. “That about does it. Can anyone think of anything else?”
“Yeah,” Jeff said. “How do we get you to Kingsley when Craig calls?”
Julia laid her head on Steve’s shoulder. They had been together nearly 24-7 for the last month. And over the past two days, things had grown—he didn’t know what else t
o call it but—rather intimate.
“Yeah … uh … let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. Craig might make some arrangements with Kingsley when he talks to the pilot again. Where are we, Jeff?”
“Still quite a way south of Bend.”
“Can we get any news out here?”
Jeff nodded. “There’s a twenty-four-hour news and talk show radio station in Bend. Shall I try to find it?”
Allie reached for the audio system controls. “You just drive, Jeff. I’ll dial the station.” She turned on the radio.
The speakers in the van squawked and spit static for a few seconds until she hit the Bend station’s frequency.
“… resistance grows in strength and numbers as dissatisfaction with the protracted martial law spreads across the fractured nation. The consensus from interviewing people on the streets is … they just want it to be over. Citizens in the blue states seem willing to agree to President Hannan’s demands that they compromise rights and freedoms to bring an end to martial law. Such compromises raise two questions. First, are citizens relinquishing rights that Americans should never give up and, second … will they ever get them back? And that’s the way it is folks on this hot August night in the Dystopian States of America.”
“I’ve heard enough. Turn it off, Allie.” Brock’s voice came from the back seat, angry and loud.
KC’s voice came much more softly. “That’s why the American people need to hear from Brock Daniels, now.”
Chapter 22
At four thirty in the morning, they emerged from the back roads. Jeff pulled the van into a dirt lot at the intersection with Highway 126 on the edge of Sisters.
Julia listened as Jeff, Steve, and Brock discussed their options.
“It’s going to be light enough to see us in another hour,” Jeff said. “I suggest we fly down 126, hit our house as we go by, then head straight to the 24-hour super store at the north end of Redmond.”
