Crowns and Cabals

by Dina Rae

  “Raphael,” Brick whispered, “I think we won. My dad would have been so proud. I hope wherever he is, he can see us right now at this very moment. Now finish the show.”

  I looked out to the ever thickening crowd that spilled over in the small grassy area across from the hotel. People were everywhere. There was no way I could find Chad or Marta. They would have to find me. I needed to include them in this televised moment. These survivors had to see the faces of bravery. Where were they?

  “We, the Patriots and we, the people, have turned the tide of oppression for now. This calls for a celebration. But make no mistake, this is probably far from over. There are still four of the Twelve alive. Let us not forget their hundreds of minions and millions of followers who are also part of their inner circle. We can hope for their demise, but we must prepare for their return. We Patriots started off rattling cages. Look around. Look around and see what we’ve accomplished. We took over the city! I see food tents being set up and hear music. There is a liquor store bringing out boxes and boxes of spirits. I want to thank all of the shopkeepers for sharing what they have. Wendy Grossman, God rest her soul, would have done the same. She was a baker over in Brookline.

  “Speaking of Patriots, has anyone seen Chad Whitley or Marta O’Malley? They were with me back at the symphony. You all seen Chad earlier on my show. He explained the coronation to you. Marta is his beautiful and brilliant girl…”

  I saw them step outside of the crowd. They approached from a hundred yards away by the food stands. Chad was jumping and waving to get my attention. Two other people were with them. A man with dark hair and a woman, blonde, tall…They were too far to see. Gloria turned around with the camera and zoomed in on them. I saw the footage from her small screen. Dylan was the man. Somehow he found his way here. My eyes fell upon the gorgeous blonde. Harper. I dropped my microphone. They ran towards me and I ran towards them. The crowd cleared a pathway in the street for all of us to connect.

  After I hugged Dylan, I took Harper into my arms and kissed her long and hard, in front of the crowd with Gloria’s camera recording every second. This moment would be replayed at our wedding if she’d have me.

  “How did you get here?” I asked as tears gushed out of my eyes.

  “Dylan. Before he cut out of town, he came to the school, looking for you. He talked me into joining him. Nashville was our first stop. I had some favors to call in. We then drove up to Boston. He knew you’d be somewhere in the city. We saw your show. You weren’t answering your phone. He eventually reached Marta. She and Chad met us a few blocks away and led us here. I can’t believe you did all of this!”

  “Listen to me. I know we do not know each other that well or for that long, but I think I love you. If we are alive one year from now, would you marry me?”

  She nodded and cried. We kissed again. The gray afternoon was bluer and brighter than I remembered since the war. We celebrated with the Boston people for a few hours as more people came and more vendors provided. Calls from Americans across the country came in with similar stories. As it turned out, we weren’t the only vigilantes. Small groups everywhere came forth and told their stories. New World Order puppets were executed or imprisoned. Chad, Marta, and I covered all of it as Gloria kept up with us through the camera lens.

  As the hours flew by, I suddenly remembered I hadn’t slept in days. Brick interrupted the show with his radio in hand. I handed the microphone off to Chad.

  “Raphael, it’s Jaxie. I don’t know if this is real or she is under duress. Talk to her.”

  I took the radio from Brick and said into the speaker, “This is Raphael.”

  “It’s me, Raph. I am home, my home.”

  I heard her sobs and she probably heard mine. “Thank God.”

  I wrapped up the show, grabbed my Patriots and slipped away from the crowd. “I’ll meet you at Jaxie’s,” I announced to my own inner circle of Patriots.

  We hailed down two separate self-driving cabs and headed straight to Jaxie’s townhome. I went with Gloria, Harper, and Dylan, while Brick and Sai took Chad and Marta. We arrived at Jaxie’s townhome within minutes of each other. Three Peacekeeper SUVs were parked in front of the townhouse. We stood several buildings away from her address in confusion. Jaxie opened the front door and waved us in.

  I nervously glanced at everyone, and they stared me down, demanding that I make the final decision. Was this a trap?

  “They are here to protect me! I swear!” Jaxie yelled. She took a gun from the soldiers holster and shot at the sky. “I am not their prisoner.”

  Reluctantly, we walked inside of her home. Everything appeared to be in order. Jaxie had her soldiers bring in food and drink. Some of them even ate with us. Eventually, we accepted their new allegiance. They stood outside of the townhouse and around the block for our protection. We could be blown up at any second. I silently prayed for faith. A wave of peace swept over me, and I let go. Sitting with Jaxie in her townhome with the people who I loved most filled me unimaginable joy.

  Jaxie seemed happy, but preferred to listen to our stories over telling us about hers. Still, there was a sense of family. I proudly introduced her to Harper, Gloria, and the other Patriots. We talked, laughed, and prayed until midnight.

  Jaxie played hostess, setting up her extra rooms with blankets, pillows, and toiletries, all provided by the former Peacekeepers. They stayed outside and kept watch while we got ready for sleep.

  Before we all bunkered down for the night, Brick grabbed his bag and asked, “Anyone want to guess what Sai and I stole today?” We were all too tired to play guessing games. No one responded. “Okay, then. In the name getting some sleep, I’ll keep it short. As you all know, Sai and I personally killed six of the Twelve. For those of you who aren’t too bright in math, that’s half or fifty percent. Not bragging, it’s just a fact.”

  We laughed at his pompousness and let him and Sai bask in their success. I headed up the stairs in desperate need of sleep.

  “Excuse me, Patriot, but there is more. We took all six of their crowns! I had an epiphany. Maybe we can start a museum once the dust settles. Chad, you got to blog about these pieces. They’re gorgeous, even magical. Jaxie, you saw them glow during the coronation, right?” She didn’t answer as Brick pulled them out of his bag. He passed them around for us to examine. Jaxie seemed uninterested. Something was very wrong. Were they a bad reminder of the horrific evening she witnessed? I gave her some space. We all had demons to wrestle with.

  The evening ended, and we all found a bed or couch to crash out on. I didn’t dream of George or my father or the Twelve, just blacked out sleep. Tomorrow would be the resurrection of America.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Jaxie

  One Year Later, 2045

  I considered myself a Patriot for life which is why I refused the U.S. presidential nomination. I wanted to see smart people with great ideas debate different ways of putting America back together. Elections were needed, but not just for candidates. We needed referendums on what laws needed to stay and what laws needed to go within our legal system.

  It took a week to destroy an ancient cabal’s New World Order. No one expected America to be up and running overnight, but our country’s progress astounded the world. Our determination and pride got us to work together in rebuilding the country instead of dividing us for others’ political gain.

  Radiation threats dissipated. The skies turned blue and the sun could be seen. Temperatures still ranged in radical extremes, but scientists believed the drastic cold and heat would soon steady.

  Although the economy was unstable, the world currency of units was banned from use. Units were replaced with dollars and dollars were backed by the old gold standard. Silver was added in for more backing. Everyone agreed that our money should be worth something. A committee of American citizens with financial backgrounds provided safeguards against bad loans. Government bailouts were outlawed. Banks could only lend what they had.

  The rest of
the world was still subject to the laws of the World of Peace. Global censorship prevented America from knowing whether citizens of the world were for us or against us. No one wanted another war. Brick Theriault had a temporary solution. He organized the enlistment of a professional army. Many of the new American soldiers were surrendered Peacekeepers. Allowing former Peacekeepers high ranking roles among our new military didn’t sit well with me, but I kept my opinion out of it. We needed soldiers at this very fragile moment and didn’t have the luxury of being selective.

  Brick proved himself an amazing soldier over and over. I needed to trust in my Patriots, and as Raphael also told me, I needed to trust in God. The former was easier than the latter. Unlike him, I wasn’t exactly sold on the Holy Trinity, but I kept an open mind.

  Brick created another defense organization that resembled America’s old C.I.A. and Homeland Security. He offered the directorship to Dylan. The two young men hit it off immediately. Dylan’s sordid past and patriotic loyalty was an asset to our defense.

  Four of the Twelve were still alive. The eight Elders we killed were replaced as easily as a battery inside of a remote control. Max Steele became their new prince. We heard the new inner circle and the Twelve relocated to South America. Once we were back on our feet, we planned on offering the world our help in breaking free from the World of Peace.

  Dylan found others in the world like us. Their coups failed after what they once called “Glexit” or global exit, named after Britain’s attempted Brexit only decades ago. Dylan privately briefed us on his findings. We were the only people in the world whom he trusted, especially Sai White. The two of them started dating. I hoped something real would come out of it.

  Sai, my first and forever best friend, went back to Fogle’s headquarters in Brookline. She took over Camden’s Director of Security position. With Max no longer around to run the corporation, she, a few other employees, and I made up the new board of directors. None of us knew how legal any of this was, but the tech world was much too important to abandon.

  Fogle’s first order of business eliminated all of the filters that blocked information. We went even farther by ending surveillance of drones, hidden cameras, and microphones. Free kiosks set up in grocery stores throughout the nation removed everyone’s microchips. The same kiosks removed all automatic content recognition on smart televisions, tablets, phones, computers, and smart speakers. Microphones and cameras within household products were officially banned in our new America. Exceptions would be made in criminal instances.

  We were far from finished with undoing the harm that the old Fogle caused, but at least Americans were given back their expectation of privacy. Sai suggested splitting the corporation up into different parts as an act of good faith. All of us agreed. Different departments were offered through sale. I thought of Gloria Prestwyck, Raphael’s half-sister. She proved to be even more versed in computers than I was. But she had different plans.

  Technology played a huge part in allowing a global takeover, but so did the media. Together, the two industries were probably the most helpful tools used by the inner circle in obtaining world domination. Gloria preferred the media. She claimed that Raphael’s class impacted her career choice.

  Gloria, Chad, and his new wife Marta started their own media empire called the Patriot Gazette. They created a news channel, newspaper, e-zine, and syndicated radio show. Their content concentrated on sharing new ideas about rebuilding laws, towns, corporations, education, and entertainment.

  Besides the press, Chad and Marta spent a great deal of time promoting the freedom of religion. They even helped Gloria become a believer. Their news programs featured segments that hyped religious services throughout the city. Vacant venues that could hold large groups of worshipers were given free and premium advertising spots. They put God first in everything, only living off of what they needed.

  Chad, Marta, and Gloria set up their media empire in Dallas, but encouraged competition in Dallas as well as the rest of the country. All three of them vowed they would never monopolize the industry. Chad proposed several laws that held American media accountable when false information was broadcasted. Giant media corporations were illegal.

  The three new American journalists wanted Raphael to join them. They even promised to make room for his fiancé, Harper Bensen. He had lost his taste for the news and turned them down. Teaching became his new passion. He met with America’s top educators and came up with an entirely new public education system.

  Raphael and Harper planned their wedding for November 2nd, the one year anniversary of our revolution. Chad’s minister would marry both of them in a Christian church they had revitalized. Both Raphael and Harper dedicated their time to restoring museums. Their goal was to preserve history, believing it can too easily be rewritten once it’s gone. There first donation was from Brick and Sai. They gave Harper and Raphael the six crowns they took from six Peace Elders they killed.

  I asked Raphael what he planned on doing with his own crown. He said it would stay put somewhere on his grandfather’s farm. His excuse was simple. The diadem was stolen and Alberta Ross was still alive. I didn’t quite believe him. The ancient crowns had a power that I couldn’t describe. I never told him or any of my Patriots about Stephen’s crown. Maybe one day I would, but like Raphael, I, too, did not want to part with it.

  Raphael and Harper also took the lead in remembering our fallen. They commissioned artists in Dallas and Boston to sculpt marble statues of our dead Patriots. They would stand on the vacant pedestals of other great men and women in America.

  As for me, life was good. I sat in on the Fogle board as the temporary CEO. Ironically, I dreamt of an opportunity like this since college, and now that I was exactly where I wanted to be, it no longer seemed important. My life had changed dramatically in so many ways.

  The biggest change I encountered was the birth of my son, William Camden Nottingham. Father deceased. Paternity wasn’t a secret. I even used it as an advantage. One day my son would inherit his father’s medical center. Currently, the place served as a free clinic filled with medical volunteers who treated people with genetic disorders, defects, or designs.

  Raphael hadn’t met my son yet. He, Mister Born-Again-Christian, begged me to have an abortion. I knew more about Stephen than anyone. Abortion seemed like a logical answer. I scheduled the procedure at least four times. But the night before each appointment, the nightmares swarmed in, causing me to change my mind. Stephen’s voice would say that I was Lilith, the killer of children. That couldn’t be true. Although I was never the motherly type, I grew attached to the little boy growing inside of me.

  My son was born with a thick mop of black hair, deep brown eyes, and pink skin. He was only three months old and already crawling. He never cried or got sick. I was told by others that infants did not progress this quickly. He was special.

  Fogle’s private plane which I used on a regular basis landed in Dallas the morning of Raphael’s and Harper’s wedding. I arrived with Brick. Sai was already there as Dylan’s date. Chad, Marta, and Gloria were there to greet us. They politely fawned over my son, but I questioned their sincerity.

  The church was small and the wedding guest list was smaller. Raphael and Harper greeted us before the ceremony. Shockingly, they did not welcome my son or congratulate me on motherhood. My feelings hurt, but I kept them inside. An argument would come, but not on their day.

  As promised one year ago, Raphael ran the video clip of him and Harper reuniting in Boston. The two of them had a laundry list of vows. I discreetly rolled my eyes and thought of Aysa. Would she like Harper? The women were so different. Once the bride and groom finished, Chad recited a few verses from the Bible. William fussed in his car seat. I unbuckled him and bounced him on my knee. The baby writhed out of my arms and the church pew. Standing for the first time, he took a few steps. I tried to pay attention to the wedding, but William’s milestone was too distracting.

  I giggled and scooped him back into
my arms, but he squirmed away crying. Step by step he gained more confidence and then changed his gait into a brisk walk.

  Just as Raphael and Harper said their I-dos, William grabbed Raphael’s pant leg and said, “King.” The baby’s brown eyes yellowed as he looked up at Raphael, and Harper. “King.”

  Chad scooped up my son and held him as far away from his body as his long arms would allow. Handing him back to me, he said, “Jaxie, this child is not a child. He is a demon!”

  “King is Raphael’s last name. He must have heard it. Please, Chad! You’re overreacting!”

  “King!” said the baby with amazing clarity for an infant.

  Somewhat satisfied with my defense, Chad sat back down. The guests stirred. William was not acting like himself. Once we left the church and piled into a nearby steakhouse, he calmed down to his quiet, happy self. Halfway through dinner he fell asleep in his car seat.

  Raphael and Harper briskly greeted their guests and then Raphael bee-lined over to the empty chair next to me.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Jax. I love you. You’re my sister, blood or no blood.” I nodded. I loved him too. “I am only telling you this for your own good, for all of our own good. Little Will isn’t normal. You should have got an abortion. Babies don’t walk or talk at three months old.”

  “If it wasn’t your wedding day…I’ll save it for later. I was once your sister. All we had was each other. Here you are with your new wife, your new sister, your new career as some God-damned philanthropist! How dare you accuse my son of…Like I said, it’s your wedding day. May you and Harper live happily ever after. And by the way, Aysa would never have approved. She was a million times better.”

  I walked out of the reception with my sleeping baby buckled into his car seat. Not normal? My ass. The boy was just advanced. I was advanced. Stephen was advanced too.

  I got on my plane and flew back to Boston without Brick and Sai. They could figure out their own way home. Neither of them even attempted to defend me or my son. How could a bunch of so-called Christians be calling for Will’s abortion?