The Journal: A Prophecy, A President & Death

by Parker, W. Leland

  James is beside himself. Looking to read Lauren’s eyes, to see if she shows any signs of crying, he doesn’t see the large male deer that steps in front of their car on the expressway! Catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye his heart rate doubles, everything seems to slow down and get very quiet. Lauren, who perhaps saw the animal a split second sooner, the moment its eyes reflected back their headlights, already has her hands on the wheel on top of James’ as she snatches the responsive sports coupe to the right, to veer off the road behind the deer. Her effort is only too successful and the car appears headed for the very trees from which the deer emerged. But James has control enough to guide the vehicle back onto the road. Lauren’s gaze never leaves the magnificent animal as they slide by at the brink of control and pass by within ten feet! The car’s rear wheels bite hard, spraying gravel into the woods as it safely remounts the road surface. The car that was directly behind them is not as successful as it slams on its breaks and slides sideways towards the huge ten-point buck! The small sedan had almost decreased in forward motion enough to perhaps just merely bump him, but then a pickup truck behind it hits it at full force, pushing it hard into the deer!

  Lauren can scarcely believe this is happening as she sees the animal’s antlers smashing the windshield of the sedan, having been snatched off it’s feet, and then go down hard to the asphalt. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” She leaps from the car, and she’s ten yards back on the highway towards the scene, when she begins to wonder where James is. Dropping protocol for the first time like the rookie agent she is, she yells back to her protectee, “James, come on!”

  Continuing on without him she attentively halts southbound traffic to keep the downed animal from being struck again. Meanwhile James has not budged. He instead seizes the moment to just pray. An eerie cry rises from the quiet, which could only be the deer in pain! When Lauren arrives at the gathering crowd, someone is heard to say, “It’s suffering, it’s suffering! Can’t somebody put it out of its misery!”

  Lauren thinks of her weapon, which is in her gym bag in the car, but even the idea of performing such a nightmarish task is too much for her, “It’s still breathing for goodness sake!”

  The driver of the pickup has a rifle, but perhaps ironically, the hunter on return from a failed trip is completely out of shells. My God, what can be done! The situation is unbearable. Ominously standing next to his vehicle two cars back, is one of the NSA agents from the car that had been following them, and he is looking right at Lauren. The young agent looks back with a pleading in her eyes, but he just stands there, unmoved. Upset she checks to see if James can see her, and then, with fire, she walks around the struggling deer, thru the thick of the crowd, and approaches the agent! He looks at her sternly, cupping his ID in his hand, so only she could see who he was and perhaps back down. The ID reads NSA, Clarkson, Peter. But Coles seems undeterred; so, when she gets to about ten feet, he glares at her and mouths and motions, “Where’s your protectee?”

  Angry, her heart in her throat and tears building in her eyes, she says aloud, “Sir, can’t you help!”

  Quietly, but very firmly he replies “Miss, I suggest you return to your vehicle!”

  Finally, realizing what she’s getting into, she backs down and turns around wiping tears from her eyes. The NSA agent then says a few words to his partner in the car, unsnaps the guard of his weapon’s shoulder holster, and heads toward the wounded animal.

  His partner shakes his head, saying, “I don’t believe this!”

  Hearing him the agent glares over his shoulder at his partner as he continues towards the difficult task.

  Lauren, who is now not only angry, but also very emotional, decides she is going to drag James over to help if she has to! But as she passes back by the deer, she is transfixed by his helpless face; by his eyes. Crouching down, looking at his big beautiful brown eye staring back at her she reasons, “It is completely impossible that this can be the same animal from Delaware! Even less so the one from Denver, and yet …”

  Suddenly the NSA agent approaches from nowhere, his hand already on his service weapon! “Oh, No!” She turns to see James who seems to have his head bowed. Suddenly her heart begins to race faster than it was already running! “What if this deer can be saved! What if this dear is sent by my father! Oh, God please! I can’t let him do it!”

  BAM! A loud sound shatters her thoughts into a million pieces! “What was that! What happened? Did he shoot it? No! The buck has kicked out striking the sedan that was pushed into it! That’s what that loud sound was, as the hoof dent clearly proves! “It’s recovering! It’s recovering! Stand back everyone!” cries the same woman who wanted to relieve its suffering earlier. Suddenly and dramatically the buck stands up! All of eight feet from hoof to horn he is as intimidating as he is beautiful. Every one moves back towards their cars as he silently turns and launches himself over the car that struck him and disappears into the woods. Lauren looks to catch the eye of the NSA agent who was there but he is nowhere in sight, and the car from which he came stands quietly again, ready to fade into obscurity.

  • • •

  At an undisclosed, and exceedingly non-descript location, Harold Danning leads his friend, FBI Manager, Bill Ramirez to a guarded door. The armed military guard comes to attention and says, “Good evening, sir.”

  Danning replies, “Good evening, at ease. This is FBI Station Manager Bill Ramirez, he will be acting as my plus-one tonight.”

  “Thank you, sir. Please proceed”

  Danning proceeds to a security handprint reader, scanning his palm, he then also inputs a code to unlock the sealed door. Once the system acknowledges him, he leads Ramirez by the arm as the two men enter the secure room. Inside, he greets another Secret Service agent, and after asking Ramirez to remove his shades he makes their introductions. With those formalities out of the way he gets to work.

  Opening a locked cabinet, Danning straps on and then hands Ramirez a headset mic and belt transmitter, and pointing towards the far end of a conference table says, “Here, you’ll use these at your workstation.”

  “Workstation, hey, I’m just here out of, what do I wanna say, convenience! Besides …” looking around, “I have to tell you this whole room is probably above my, um, pay grade!” He references the fact that the large concrete walled room is lined with flat-screen monitors flashing data for what’s going on in just about every region of the world! There is a large oval table in the center with eight workstations inset, with 20-inch, touch-screen monitors, and digital card and USB device ports. As Danning seats him at the workstation he continues, “Besides, might I remind you, that it’s Saturday afternoon, and–”

  Tapping on the screen in front of Ramirez, and largely ignoring his remarks, Danning points at the time listed for US EASTERN; he taps on an area marked as US3EAST which enlarges and lists various coded project names. He then taps the one called, Lifesaver1, and the screen changes to reveal all contact information and GPS locations of Agents: Al Hinton, Lauren Coles, and George Sandoval; as well as Mary Sorensen, Mark Clark, three other people whose names Ramirez does not recognize, and James, Robert, and Joanna Market. And all begin to flash green on the dark display.

  In slightly hushed voice Danning says, “Please use this information to keep track of our project. If you want to call one of them simply tap on their phone number under their name and you’ll hear it begin to dial in your headset.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “If you want to text or email them, tap on their email address and a screen will popup with an option for email or text, select the one you want, then start typing. When any of them call, email or text us, you’ll see this number next to either their phone, email, or this symbol, increase,” he says pointing at the screen; “like, see here? Hinton’s sent a message.”

  Shaking his head in disbelief Ramirez says, “Humph, cranky old Al was right, we are getting the short end of the stick over at the Bureau.”

  �
�Well, we can talk about that later, meanwhile take a look at what Hinton has, I’ve got to go deal with this chemical weapon attack.” Danning walks back around to the far end and far side of the table and gets involved with the other Service agent who is now joined by an agent from Homeland Security. They study a map of the area in question and begin to review computer projections of where an airborne toxin might spread at various time intervals.

  Meanwhile at the opposite end Ramirez’s screen has come alive with text messages and indicators from most of the team. He tries to get Danning’s attention, but is unsuccessful. He begins checking and reading the text and emails, quickly figuring out how the system works. A message from Coles simply states that they were delayed briefly but will arrive within 30 minutes. Hinton’s message covers a conversation he just had with Robert Market that confirms that Carla Brayson really enjoys having the boys at the office.

  But it is a message from Alice Wheaton that changes the entire situation. Alice’s name, which was nowhere to be seen all of a sudden appears and begins flashing in white letters. Because her current location cannot be tracked, she has accessed the system directly. The system uses GPS tracking built into cell phones to locate people, but she, Ramirez, and Danning are out of reach. She sends a message pointing everyone on the team to review information added to the data file from her assistant at NSA.

  Ramirez opens the message and reading as fast as he can finds that it states that Calvin Stone is untraceable beyond his employment history provided to the church, which unfortunately now appears to have been fake. Additionally he has purchased at least seven firearms in the last five years! Before Ramirez can read further a picture icon begins flashing next to Alice Wheaton’s name. He clicks it and up pops a live video feed of Alice, a video chat!

  He hasn’t time to be impressed as Alice asks, “Have you read the file?”

  Ramirez, “I was doing so when you called, where are you?”

  “That’s not important, and I couldn’t tell you even if it were. I need you to read line one fifteen and comment, ’cause I’m about to pull the plug on this and bring everyone in.”

  “What! Without consulting Har-Harold?”

  “Bill, Carla Brayson has three tickets leaving the country tomorrow at two in the afternoon.”

  “I’m reading I’m reading,” glued to the screen, he goes on, “One for herself, one for her husband, and one for a fourteen-year-old son, who is sedated due to a surgical procedure to be performed in Brussels. This matches both ransom and torture scenarios 11268, section IV, 12589 sec—”

  “Bill this is very bad, I’m going to order the field to take the Markets in.”

  Ramirez is not at all comfortable with Alice’s decision. He motions to Danning, trying not to seem too obvious to Alice, who he assumes can also see him via the video chat. But Danning, with his headset covering one ear, is immersed in conversation and partially obscured by the monitor that he and the other agents are using. Knowing Alice as a woman of action, Ramirez is certain that she will place the order without Danning’s consent if she feels she has to. So the brilliant, and until recently, career-field-operative, says:

  “They told me you might pull something like this!” And he turns his back to the monitor and walks out of sight.

  Alice says, “What? What are you talking about? Who told you that?”

  Ramirez uses the subterfuge to walk around to where Harold Danning is working with the other men. He grabs a hold of his wrist with a positively excruciating hold, leaving the Deputy Director no choice but to follow wherever he leads. While continuing barbed comments with Alice, he takes Danning back to his screen, “When I was making inquiries about working for you at the Bureau, before you moved over to NSA, a senior field op told me that you had issues. That you would take over my cases.” Pointing to his screen Ramirez directs Danning’s eyes to see the pertinent content of what’s transpired.

  Alice, outraged by what he said, exclaims, “What in the– What nonsense! Who would say such a lie! Bill, you must tell me who said that!”

  “Um, I will. Hold on, Danning is reviewing the intel!”

  Switching frequencies, Danning points to the screen and shows Ramirez where to click to have him join their call while Alice insists, “Bill, tell me who said that! Don’t make me call Marcy! Bill!” In a moment of panic, or perhaps mischief, Ramirez answers, “Al Hinton. Here’s Danning, now.”

  Danning joins in, perplexed by their conversation, “What about Al Hinton?”

  Alice and Ramirez say in unison, “Nothing.”

  Danning, having seen the action Alice was about to take, says, “Alice, I see you’re about to place a remand order. Didn’t you say I call the shots, as long as I cleared them with you?”

  Feeling a tiny bit self-conscious she replies, “And I stand by that, but I was concerned by this report, and you seemed preoccupied by your first security drill.”

  Danning, “Alice, I have to disagree with where you are headed. Neither of us have time to debate this because of the other thing, but let me simply say, we need the Markets as bait. Provided your guys lay low, we’ll likely catch Brayson and Stone sometime between now and one p.m., tomorrow, when they come for their sick child.”

  Alice, “Can we agree to bring everyone in at the first opportunity tomorrow?”

  Danning, “Agreed.”

  The Last Fight Home

  Lauren returns to her car, partly still a little angry, partly disillusioned, but mostly relieved. “Wow, that was something!” she thinks. She gets back in the car, and the first thing out of her mouth is, “What happened to you back there?”

  James, “Nothing.”

  “I should say so!”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well,” calming down, she realizes she has little to accuse him of other than perhaps indifference. “Well, I just– I don’t know. I kind of … hoped you’d do something.”

  Looking at her as he starts up the car to continue on down the road, “I did do something.”

  Lauren thinks to herself, “Oh, no. I know where this leads; another argument about faith and God! Well, I’ve learned a thing or two now, and I’m not about to fall into that trap again.” So she doesn’t say a word.

  Two minutes go by in silence. Then five. Then ten. Then, with only twenty minutes or so left in their drive, James figures this may be the last chance he will ever get to talk to Lauren about this. So, compelled by his interest in her, he fires the first shot, “Miss Coles, in vain I have struggled, it will not do, you must allow me to tell you something I think is very important.”

  With a big smile, recognizing that he was referencing her favorite book, she says, “Well, if you put it that way.”

  He continues, “I noticed that you were set unease by my seeming lack of action with the deer.” “Yeah! I mean, what was that about? I thought we were kind of becoming a team. I would like to know where my teammates stand in a crisis.”

  Smiling at her, he says, “I feel the same way, about us, becoming, um, a team, but if you bear with me, I’ll explain.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Okay. I’d like you to forget about the deer situation for just a moment. Forget about me and anyone else for that matter; this is one of those rare few times that anyone is ever going to ask you to think exclusively about yourself.”

  “Oh, I can handle that!”

  James, “Can you? We’ll see, ’cause it’s not as easy as it sounds. This isn’t about what your mother or father may have said or not; it’s not about the person next to you, or your friends or colleagues; this is exclusively and solely about you. When I’m gone and you’re driving down the road by yourself, whether we ever meet again, none of that is relevant. This is your moment, your personal point of decision. It’s the one thing that absolutely everyone has to decide for him or herself: What they do or do not believe. I am not asking you to believe like me, or because of me. But just as important, please do not let the way anyone else has b
elieved, or behaved, because of their beliefs, shape your personal decision.”

  Lauren, “WOW! You sure are laying this on heavy! You know, maybe I don’t want to talk about this, or maybe I don’t want to believe what you’re saying. Who says I have to believe something vs. something else.”

  “We all believe something. We may not define it, or perhaps we avoid thinking about it, but everybody believes something, it’s the only way we can make sense of the world.”

  “But, perhaps I would prefer to avoid thinking about it, I have that right. Besides, I don’t know if I know you well enough to be talking about what I believe!”

  “Well, I can respect that, but please, allow me to say this much more Lauren; tonight your life can change forever.”

  “Oh, God!”

  He continues, “At this very moment you can make a decision about what you believe. Like it or not, you are at a fork in the road, and you have no choice but to take one of the paths. We both saw the deer on the road; you can believe that he just happened to step in front of our car and just happen to survive somehow. Or you can believe that God had a hand in it, spared his life, enabled us—who would have hit him at forty-five miles per hour—to swerve to avoid him, allowed you to keep anyone else from doing him irreparable harm and allowed me to pray the prayer of faith that healed him.”

  Lauren can’t help but roll her eyes.

  “One path is life as you’ve always lived it; and if you’re absolutely certain, and totally content, Okay. But, if you are willing, try the other path. See and decide for yourself if there’s more to this than what you know. We all go through this life, stuff happens to all of us, but the quality of your life comes from what you believe. If I’m right, and God is who he says he is in the Bible, then what we saw tonight was a miracle; plain and simple, and God chose us for a specific reason to be here and interact with that deer.”

  “My God, how presumptuous of you to assume that I have not already made a firm decision about my beliefs! I’ve already told you that I do believe in God, just not as you do. I don’t think most people can accept that God is intricately involved in every decision of our lives.”