by Mark Goodwin
Ava turned to her father. “Can you imagine all of the Christians who are in the regime states listening to this right now? They have to be freaking out!”
Ulysses adjusted his leg on the ottoman. “They shouldn’t be surprised. In every communist revolution around the world, freedom of religion has been taken away in the very next breath after the guns are gone. In fact, every Christian who turned in his gun at one of the collection points should have handed in his Bible at the same time. It would have saved him a trip.”
Ava smirked. “Yeah. I guess all those pastors who told their congregations to turn in their guns will be looking for a new line of work.”
Ulysses sipped his coffee. “I’d imagine most of them are ranked pretty close to a ten on the SVA scale. They can go to a voluntary re-education camp until they get an even ten. They’ll all make fine Social Value Auditors.”
CHAPTER 5
And when he had fasted forty days and forty nights, he was afterward an hungred. And when the tempter came to him, he said, If thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread. But he answered and said, It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.
Matthew 4:2-4
Ava felt weak Friday morning as she made her way to the living room. “Did you go to bed last night?”
Ulysses was sitting in the same place on the overstuffed couch. “Yeah, but my leg was bothering me, so I got up.”
“You need rest for your wound to heal.”
“And you need food. It’s been forty-eight hours since you ate.”
Ava filled a glass with water. “I’ll have some milk or juice today if Foley doesn’t get better.”
She drank the entire glass of water, then picked up the phone and dialed the doctor. “Captain Murphy, hi, it’s Ava.”
“I was just getting ready to call you.”
“Oh?” Her voice betrayed her worry.
“Relax, good news. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Foley’s fever is completely gone. His system is functioning strongly, and all his vital signs are normalized.”
“That’s great! What’s the catch?”
“I need to get him into surgery this morning.”
“To take his leg?”
“Yes. I would have preferred to give the antibiotics another day, but resources around here are about to be stretched thin. Refugees are flooding out of Texas because of what Shane Lawrence said about the Bible yesterday. Blackwell is asking all Alliance military bases near borders of regime states to set up relief camps.”
“That won’t affect the hospital, will it?”
“I think it will. At best, we’ll have folks coming in who are dehydrated, with various scrapes and bruises. Worst case scenario, we’ll have combat casualties.
“I doubt Markovich is going to just let them walk out the door. If he does, he’ll be the first communist dictator in history to allow a mass exodus of people who don’t agree with his politics. They wouldn’t be setting up re-education camps if they were planning on giving people a choice of staying or going.
“The Alliance States will be flying sorties along the borders for the next two weeks. We’ll engage any troops or aircraft we see harassing the refugees trying to flee.
“Since Altus is so close to Texas, I’m sure we’ll have lots of folks coming here over the next few days.”
Ava listened closely, then replied, “I understand. When will he come out of surgery?”
“He should be waking up around noon. It would be good if you could be in the recovery room. He’s been out for two days, plus he’ll be waking up to one less leg than he had. It’s going to be tough on his mind. A friendly face might help him cope.”
“I’ll be there, of course! You think the surgery will go okay?”
“Like I said, I wish we could have given the antibiotics another day, but I promise, I’ll do my best. See you at twelve.”
“Thank you.” Ava placed the phone on the cradle.
“What did he say?” Ulysses inquired.
Ava relayed the information to her father, including the part about the refugees who were coming to the base.
“You’ll eat? After Foley comes out of surgery?” Ulysses' eyes showed his concern.
Ava nodded. “If he comes through okay, and he’s stable, that’s all I’m asking for. I’ll consider that an answer to my prayers. Maybe I’ll wheel you down to the recovery room, and we can all have dinner tonight.”
“I can get over to the medical hangar on my crutches.”
“You’re not even supposed to have crutches. Why don’t you let me push you in the chair? You wouldn’t want to get Sergeant Griffith in trouble for going against the doctor’s orders.”
Ulysses grimaced to convey his displeasure. “I can wheel myself.”
Ava took a shower, got dressed, and fixed herself up so she’d look nice for Foley. She said goodbye to Ulysses and began walking over to the hangar at 11:00 AM. On the way, she watched several giant C-17s land. Some were already on the tarmac and being offloaded. She mumbled to herself, “They must be bringing in supplies from other bases for the relief center.”
Multiple cargo trucks filled with equipment drove by Ava before she reached the hangar. Once there, the building was buzzing with activity. She checked in with the front desk. “Hi, Captain Murphy told me to come by. I’m sure he’s in surgery right now, but can you send him a text and let him know that Ava is here waiting when he’s finished?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s my privilege.” The young private behind the desk quickly sent the text.
“Thank you.” She took a seat on a modest couch. A small television sat atop a simple metal storage shelf, which was backed up to a thin partition. Power was provided by heavy-gauge extension cords, which ran along the ground. Duct tape covered the electrical cords and secured them to the floor to mitigate tripping hazards.
The television played a live-streaming newscast produced from inside the Alliance States. Ava quickly recognized the broadcast as being supportive of Blackwell and the patriot states.
A manicured young man in a suit and tie delivered a report from a modern desk in front of a professional studio background. “Acting President of the Alliance States, Turner Blackwell, is requesting challengers to throw their names into the hat for a special presidential election for the Alliance States. Since he was appointed to the vice-presidency by President Ross, he does not want there to be any doubt about the legitimacy of his leadership role in the Alliance States.
“He has said that if he does prevail in the special election, he vows to step aside and resume his role as vice-president when President Ross is returned from his illegal incarceration by the Markovich regime.”
“All eight of the other Alliance States governors held a vote of confidence yesterday evening in which they unanimously signaled their support for Acting-President Blackwell.
“In other news, the eastern half of Washington State has declared itself free and independent from the western portion of the state. The new state, which has joined the Alliance States, is called the State of Liberty. Liberty has tried unsuccessfully in the past to break off from the western half of Washington, but now that shots have already been fired, residents of the eastern side no longer have to worry about triggering a second civil war.
“Acting-President Blackwell welcomed Liberty with open arms. The move not only strengthens the Alliance States but also shields the upper panhandle of Idaho from sharing that portion of its border with a state complicit with the rogue Markovich regime.”
Ava smiled at the word choices of the reporter. She was pleased to hear him use terminology that acknowledged the Alliance States as the legitimate government and condemned Markovich’s administration as the traitorous regime. Far too long had the right played fair while letting the left act with impunity in the political world, particularly when it came to the media.
“Ava.” The doctor came
from behind the partition.
“Captain Murphy, how did it go?” She stood up and waited in hopes of good news.
The doctor’s expression did nothing to reassure her. He shook his head as if perplexed. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Is Foley okay? Is he alive?” Her forehead puckered, and she held her breath in anticipation.
Murphy quickly closed the space between them and put his hand on her shoulder. “Yes, he’s fine. But his leg, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You had to remove more than you thought?” Ava felt concerned, but as long as Foley was alive, she could handle it.
“No, no.” He shook his head, his face still showing his confusion. “I probed his leg on Wednesday when he came in. I took out the bullet. The tissue inside was irreparable. I saw it for myself. I’ve even got photographs.”
“I don’t understand what you’re telling me, doctor?”
“The wound channel—in his leg—it’s nearly healed up. I didn’t do anything.”
Ava looked skeptically at the captain. “So, he might not have to lose his leg?”
“Oh, he’ll definitely keep the leg. The only question is whether I let him walk out of here on it tonight.”
Tears of joy flooded Ava’s eyes. Emotion rushed through her stomach, heart, and throat. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Are you serious?”
“I would never joke about such a thing. But I really don’t have any way of explaining it other than a miracle.”
She looked upward. “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, God!”
Ava brought her gaze back to earth. “Is he awake?”
“I’ve cut off the sedatives. He’ll be coming around soon. Come on. I’ll take you back to him.”
She followed Captain Murphy. “When can we leave? To go home?”
“I’d like to see Foley and your dad a couple more times, but things are going to get hectic around here. Bring them both in tomorrow morning. As long as everything looks good, you can all go home after that. Your truck is down in motor pool.”
“We left our truck at the battle site.”
“Right. Two of the men drove it back here. Motor pool took the liberty of cleaning it up for you. Tune-up, oil change, the works. I think I mentioned that you’re something of a celebrity.”
“Yeah, you did. Wow. That’s so fantastic. I suppose I could hang around if you guys need help with the refugees.”
The doctor shook his head. “We don’t have a vetting process in place for the refugees yet. In all likelihood, Markovich will have spies mixed in, wolves among the sheep. Given your notoriety, I think it would be better if you kept your distance. But thanks for offering.”
Captain Murphy pulled back a curtain to reveal Foley sleeping on a bed. All the tubes and monitors had been removed from him.
“Thank you again for all you’ve done.”
“Glad I could help with the infection, but the leg, I can’t take credit for that.” He waved and walked away.
Ava stood at Foley’s bedside for the next half hour. His eyelids moved from time to time and his head shifted, but he did not wake up.
An orderly brought her a chair. “Here you go, ma’am. It might be a while. I can keep an eye on him and call you when he wakes up if you need to take a break.”
“No, the chair is fine, thanks.” Ava took a seat and held Foley’s hand for another forty minutes.
Finally, he gripped her hand. His head turned toward her. His eyes opened slightly.
“Hey there. How you feelin’?” She smiled gently at him.
His eyes opened wider, and he returned the smile. “Thirsty.”
Ava took the small sippy cup on the stand next to his bed and held it to his lips. “Here. Drink.”
Foley took a shallow sip. “Thanks. How long have I been out?”
“Four years. The war is over.”
“Are you serious? Who won?”
She giggled and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m kidding. You’ve only been out for two days.”
He chuckled. “You’re cruel.”
“If I were cruel, I’d have kept it up. I’d have told you Markovich won.”
He put his head down and closed his eyes. “I knew you were kidding anyway.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
“You’ve still got that silly ring on. No way you’d wait four years for me.”
She kissed him. “I’d wait forty years for you. And don’t ever call my ring silly.”
“What did I miss?”
“You just rest and take it easy for now. I’ll fill you in later. Once the doctor releases you, we’ll all go have dinner together in the dining facility— you, Dad, and me.”
“Dining facility? You mean like a DFAC? Where are we?”
“Altus Air Force Base, Oklahoma.”
“Near your dad’s home?”
“Not far; it’s about five hours from here. And it’s our home—at least for now.”
“I thought you said Texas would always be your home.”
She held his hand tight. “Wherever you, Dad, Buckley, and Charity are; that’s my home.”
CHAPTER 6
Thine hand shall find out all thine enemies: thy right hand shall find out those that hate thee. Thou shalt make them as a fiery oven in the time of thine anger: the Lord shall swallow them up in his wrath, and the fire shall devour them. Their fruit shalt thou destroy from the earth, and their seed from among the children of men. For they intended evil against thee: they imagined a mischievous device, which they are not able to perform. Therefore shalt thou make them turn their back, when thou shalt make ready thine arrows upon thy strings against the face of them. Be thou exalted, Lord, in thine own strength: so will we sing and praise thy power.
Psalm 21:8-13
In a small ceremony at Ulysses’ farm, Ava and Foley were married on New Year’s Day. Many weeks passed and March arrived. With it came the first mild days in northeastern Oklahoma.
Ava sat at the foot of the bed watching Foley pack his rucksack. “If your militia team leaves, who’ll guard the border?”
Foley did not look up. “Markovich would never hit Oklahoma from the Missouri border.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. If he were to target Tulsa, he’d have to come across the Missouri border. Arkansas, like the other southern states, is neutral. If he launched an attack across the Arkansas border, he’d risk tipping them over to the Alliance.”
Foley packed several pairs of socks and dark-colored tee-shirts into the mouth of the pack. “That whole neutral thing isn’t going to last long. The fight is getting bloodier by the day. Sooner or later, the south is going to have to pick a side. Iowa and Minnesota thought they’d remain neutral as well, but the SJL is using them to launch border skirmishes against Nebraska and the Dakotas.”
She crossed her arms. “Which validates my point about you being needed here, to guard our border with Minnesota.”
“The militia is strong. They’ll still be able to hold the border without my team. When Markovich makes his play, experienced soldiers like us will be needed to counter the attack. The intelligence on this assault is good. Markovich will be moving in the next few days. My team has to be ready to mobilize the moment we know where he’s taking the fight.”
Ava fiddled with the simple gold wedding band on her finger. She wore the homemade wire engagement ring on a thin chain around her neck. It was too fragile for daily wear. She thought back to the days when she’d worried if Foley was going to pull through and survive the infection. Ava realized many more days enduring a heart heavy with concern awaited her.
God had healed Foley’s leg, although she hadn’t specifically prayed for such a miracle. She’d only requested that He spare Foley’s life. She’d not asked for God to heal his leg because she’d thought it too great a thing for which to petition. But sitting in their small bedroom at her father’s house, watching Foley pack for war, she wondered. Had I known that God would heal his leg, would I have asked
Him to? If he’d lost his leg, he wouldn’t be running off to war. Yes, I’d be waiting on him hand and foot, but he’d be here, with me; safe—and done with fighting.
Ava recognized her terrible selfishness in the thought, but she couldn’t help it. No matter, God had done as He so desired, and Foley would follow his heart into the battle. Ava could change neither of those things. Her duty was only to accept them as they came. However, she didn’t have to like it.
The bedroom door creaked open. Buckley nudged his way into the room, tail wagging.
“You won’t leave me, will you, Buck?” Ava patted the bed, signaling for the dog to join her.
Foley dropped his pack on the ground, came to her and embraced her face for a long, passionate kiss. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back. I promise.”
She believed him, at least as far as it depended on him. But she was not so naive as to think the circumstances were very much under his control. After the kiss she pressed his head to her chest, caressing his hair with her fingers. “It would be so much easier if you’d just stay.”
He lay next to her, motionless for a few stolen minutes. “Easy has never been my way of doing things. And you, of all people, should understand what it’s like to have this conviction. You dragged your dad and your friends into the fight because you knew it was the right thing to do, and that it had to be done.”
She wondered if she’d have done things differently—knowing what she knew now, the violence, the death, the sorrow, the stains on her mind, the images of brutality that would never go away. “I won’t try to stop you, Foley. But I do not consent. You’ve done enough. So has Dad. And I’ve given all I’ve got to this war that just keeps on taking. Now it wants my husband. I’ve earned my right to hold a grudge against this conflict.”
Foley got up and resumed packing. “That’s what war does. It takes and takes, and never cares about the feelings of those it deprives. Believe me, if the stakes were anything less than the freedom to worship my God and protect my family, I’d gladly stay on the bench for this one.”
