“Is everything ok, dear?” Karen asked, showing signs of concern.
“No. Everything is not ok, Karen,” Faith said sternly. “I want to see my husband.”
Karen turned her head and smiled at the two guards behind her. She nodded to Faith and they walked a bit further away, her hand still on Faith’s shoulder. “I’ve told you, I can’t help you with that, Faith. I’m sorry—it’s out of my power,” she said.
“I know what’s happening here, Karen,” Faith said indignantly and she stopped in her tracks in the middle of the road. “You—and everyone that works here should be absolutely ashamed of yourselves.”
“What are you talking about?” Karen asked, sounding somewhat annoyed. Her voice was several octaves lower than normal.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Karen,” Faith responded. “I’m too wise for that game and quite frankly too old. People are being put to death here—here in this camp. You know that it’s happening and now I do, too. I want to see my husband now—before he becomes the next victim of your agency’s humane termination policy.”
Karen looked baffled. Her clipboard was now hanging by her fingers near her hip.
“Faith, I—” Karen began before being interrupted.
“I don’t want to hear your explanation, Karen. Tell me though, if you can—what exactly is humane about putting someone to death for doing nothing wrong? Can you tell me that?”
Karen looked horrified. She turned around and nodded to the guards who were looking at them curiously. She put both hands on Faith’s shoulders and turned to look her in the eyes. “Listen—I’ll try to arrange a meeting with your husband, but you have to stop this talk right now, Faith,” Karen pleaded. “There are things that go on here that even I don’t understand or particularly agree with. Just because I wear the same uniform, doesn’t mean I follow the same path.”
“Prove it then,” Faith said. “You go get Sam and let me speak to him, privately. Then, you’ll prove to me that you care more than these animals do. You’ve been nothing but nice to me and I’ve always thought you were different, so if I’m coming across as judging, I apologize. I just cannot sit here and allow these things to go on in my own backyard.”
Karen stood up straight, as if she was using her body language to assert her authority. Faith had seen her posture herself this way before, but she stood her ground and didn’t falter. Karen’s eyes zeroed on Faith’s, then turned to the guards.
“We’re good here. I’ll be back shortly,” she said to them as they nodded and waved. She turned back to Faith and offered a sullen grin. “Come on,” she said.
Faith was dubiously surprised at Karen’s willingness to help her—almost to the point that she didn’t fully trust her but at this point, she really didn’t care. If she had done something that had consequences, she would endure them. She was no stranger to accountability. Since her first day here, this was the first time she had overstepped, yet she felt—knew in her heart that it was absolutely necessary.
As they reached the front of the men’s detention center, Karen motioned to the guards and they opened the chain-link gate, allowing her and Faith to pass through. A few confused nods were exchanged, but Faith didn’t notice anything that would subvert her trust in Officer Mitchell at this point. She walked just behind her as they approached the front door to the old Holiday Inn Express, where Karen swiped a key fob, opening the door. They walked inside and Karen nodded to the guards at the front desk. One guard, a large-framed muscular man with a thick beard, stood up and held up a hand.
“Here to see Mr. Harden?” he asked her, referencing the chief of the men’s detention center.
Karen shook her head. “Not today, thanks,” she said.
“Anything I can help you with?” the guard asked again with a curious look on his face.
“No, thank you. I need to arrange a visit with one of your inmates. It won’t take long,” she assured.
“Roger that,” the guard said. “I have to inform Chief Harden, ma’am.”
“That’s fine,” Karen affirmed. “You can tell him now or I can tell him later.”
Faith looked at her with an unsure gaze and Karen shook her head slightly at her dismissively.
“This isn’t a conjugal visit, I assume?” the guard asked lightheartedly.
Faith, always the proper woman, and at times, to the point of appearing prudish, turned to him, her face aghast. “Absolutely not!” she said, her voice sounding mortified.
The guard chuckled and waved them off.
Karen looked over at Faith with a grin. “I don’t think he was being presumptuous,” she whispered, “I think that was his attempt at a joke.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Faith concluded. “I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression of me—I don’t care who it is.”
The two turned around and walked toward the stairway.
“What did you mean when you said that you could tell him later?” Faith asked curiously.
“We have a bit of a relationship,” Karen said. “I’m just hoping that he’ll understand this.”
Taking the stairway up to the second floor, Faith followed Karen down a hallway devoid of excessive lighting. The carpet had been removed long ago and all that was left was the bare concrete. They approached a door with a placard on it that displayed a serial number. Karen knocked hard on the door, simultaneously peering through the reversed peephole. She could see a slender man inside, his bare feet hanging off the bottom of the bed that he was laying on.
“Mr. Gallo, on your feet, please,” Karen requested. She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and fiddled with them until she found the right one, and slid it into the lock.
Faith’s anticipation was reaching an amazing level, having not seen her husband in a very long time. She could barely contain her excitement. She wondered why Karen had been so easy to convince, but decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. In a few seconds, she would be reunited with her husband. Once near him, she would no longer fear anything. She could die right then and there. So long as she was with him, nothing else mattered. Karen opened the door and the two walked into the room, Faith following slightly behind. Inside, Faith’s husband was standing up with his hands on his head, facing away from them. Faith couldn’t help herself, and ran past Karen right up to him.
“Sam…” she said in a very satisfied voice.
Sam Gallo turned around with an extremely surprised look on his face which, in addition to the surprise, showed signs of wear and abuse. He looked like he had aged ten years since the last time she had seen him. Faith looked up to him and put her palm gently on his cheek, her eyes beginning to well up with emotion. Not known for being over-emotional or for being very affectionate, Sam stared down at his wife and a couple tears escaped his eyes. He reached around her and hugged her, not able to close his eyes. He was confused and a bit preoccupied with the red-haired guard standing behind his wife.
“Faithy,” Sam said. “Oh baby, it is so good to see you.”
The hug lasted all of about ten seconds but regardless, it felt good to Faith. She wiped her tears on her sleeve as they pulled away and said, “What happened to your face?”
“You look well,” he said to her, ignoring her question.
“Honey, what happened to you?” Faith repeated.
“The same things that happen to anyone who is incarcerated and refuses to go along with the program,” Sam said, his voice showing no emotion. He stared at Karen, who stood silently in full uniform.
“You’ve got five minutes,” Karen said sternly. She turned around and walked to the door. “I’ll wait outside.”
“Ten,” Faith dictated.
Karen nodded and walked outside, closing the door behind her.
“Sam, are you o—” Faith began before Sam hushed her.
“Honey, I’m fine, but we need to talk and it doesn’t sound like we have much time,” Sam said.
“Ok,” she relented.
Sam took a seat on the
bed and motioned for Faith to do the same. “Are they treating you fairly?” he asked.
Faith nodded. “Yes, surprisingly enough, they are. The lady outside—that’s Karen Mitchell. She watched out for me while I was in women’s detention.”
“You’re not there anymore?”
“No—they transferred me to the population,” Faith replied. “They said they needed the room—people who were charged with more serious crimes are being moved in.”
“I see,” Sam uttered.
“Debbie and Ben are there. I’ve been palling around with them.”
“Good,” Sam said. “It’s good to know there are other trustworthy people here.”
“I’ve asked about you every day since we’ve been here,” Faith said. “They’ve always told me they couldn’t do anything and they wouldn’t let me see you—until today.”
Sam looked at her quizzically. “Why today?”
Faith looked down at the floor. “I found out about what goes on here,” she said quietly. “I went to Karen—the only person who works here that I know has some sort of integrity. I told her to bring me to you and she did.”
Same looked confused. “Let’s pray that it is that and not something else. But I too am well aware of what goes on here,” he said.
“You are?”
“Of course. They’re purging the country of anyone who would stand up against them,” Sam said.
“Purging?” Faith urged.
“The executions,” Sam said firmly. “They’re killing off all divergents. Anyone who doesn’t go along with their plan to fundamentally change this country. People who love the country, like oath-keeping law enforcement and veterans, survivalists, preppers, etcetera. Patriots. People like me.”
“Sam, please don’t say that,” Faith pleaded with a sorrowed look. “I don’t want to hear you talk like something is going to happen to you.”
“It’s too late, Faithy,” he moaned and shuffled his body on the bed. “I already have a bullseye on my head.”
“What? What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Faith shrieked. She hadn’t uttered a word that even remotely sounded like vulgarity in years. It was probably the fourth or fifth time that she had done so in her entire life. It caught Sam’s attention immediately, and he turned to her, holding both of her hands.
“You listen to me, and you listen to me like you never have before,” he began, “we all have to die. All of us. Our birthdates and the day we die is written in the Book of Life, long before any of us were ever put on this earth. Faith, I’m not afraid to die—and neither should you be. This is all in God’s hands how—this is God’s will. If He wants me there with him instead of here, then I must accept that. So should you.”
Faith began to cry; it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Never in a million years would she have ever guessed that she’d be here right now, having this conversation with her husband. He squeezed her hands and allowed her to deal with her emotions naturally. He was a stubborn man but this was his wife of many years, and he loved her more than anything in the world. If this was the last time he’d see her, he wanted to take it all in, good and bad.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Faith said in between her sobs.
“We will be together no matter what,” he assured. “You will never lose me.”
“What should I do? How do we get you out of this mess? Should I try to fight them?”
“Absolutely not,” Sam said. “You should know the futility of something like that. These people are more than ready for an uprising. I’m actually surprised that they haven’t incited one already, in order to expedite their agenda.”
“Then what? Tell me—I’ll do anything,” Faith whispered, now aware she was making more noise than she intended.
“You being here right now, tells me that you’ve earned some high opinion from these people—perhaps a bit of clout?”
“I suppose,” Faith said.
“That’s a fantastic beginning for something much greater,” Sam said. “You’ve always been a born leader. People have always been drawn to you—the words you say and the way you say them.”
Faith nodded. “My mother was the same way,” she said. “People just loved her and she could never explain why.”
“Faithy, you need to keep doing what you’re doing. You need to continue gaining their trust and as well, find a way to gain the trust of the people, too. You need to find a way to unite them. There’s a lot of strength in numbers, Faith. The problem is, just as it was before the world changed, that we are too busy fighting amongst ourselves to realize who the real enemy is. Sun Tzu said that an enemy divided is easily defeated—now look at us. If you can find a way to unite everyone here, you may be able to end the suffering that goes on here. I’m not saying it will be easy or even possible, but who knows? You’ve been known to be very persuasive.”
“Gallos don’t give up easily,” Faith said.
“No, we don’t,” Sam agreed.
A smile broke across his face and he ran his fingers across Faith’s aging hair. Faith kissed him on his cheek and they embraced, just as they heard a few loud voices from outside the door.
“I think our time is up,” Faith said with a grave smile.
“Be strong,” Sam said. “Do not let these people get the best of you. This is our tribulation—and the only thing left on the other side of it is salvation. You can do this, Faith. I know you can.”
“I will pray for you,” Faith said.
“And I you,” Sam responded. “There’s one last thing…”
Faith looked up and into the eyes that she had fallen in love with so long ago. “What?”
“If something does happen to me…I want you to avenge me…”
The door burst open and two armed guards walked in with Karen Mitchell walking beside them, her arms raised in deep protest. Pushing Karen aside, one of them grabbed Faith by her arm and pulled her to her feet. Sam reached forward in an attempt to remove the guard’s hand from his wife, but was met with a punch to his face that knocked him to the ground. Faith shrieked.
“Be easy on her, you bastard!” Karen exclaimed. “She hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“She shouldn’t be here and you know it, Mitchell,” the guard who had punched Sam said.
Faith looked down at her husband, who was already recovering from the blow and was beginning to sit up. He was bloodied, but he looked at her with a visage that showed no fear. He was as steadfast and as strong-willed as she had always seen him be. These people didn’t scare him—she hadn’t been sure at first, but now she knew it.
Faith’s head was pushed down onto the bed as the guard who restrained her placed his zip cuffs onto her wrists. He pulled her upright and escorted her out the door with Karen following behind. The second guard followed.
As the door was being closed, Sam exclaimed, “You know what to do, Faith! You know what to do!” until the closed door muffled his voice to the point it couldn’t be heard.
Faith closed her eyes as she was led down the hallway and began to pray. She could no longer hear her husband’s voice. All she could hear now was Karen arguing with the guards. Under her breath, she prayed, “Lord God, comfort my husband. Place your hands on him and comfort him. He needs you now, Father. We all need you. Guide us, and protect us. Amen.”
Chapter 17
Trout Run Valley
Hardy County West Virginia
Present day
Norman pulled his Dodge up to the long hardened dirt driveway, but didn’t enter it. He instead, parked on the edge of the road just beside several rusty mailboxes, all of which had the name Brady stenciled on them in faded black paint. The driveway beside the mailboxes led through some trees to a cluster of small houses which seemed to all share the same yard. The houses, either had painted wood or well-weathered cedar siding, and looked fairly dilapidated with rusty tin roofs. There were old rusted bicycles in the yard, as well as a host of other children’s toys,
including a couple metal swing sets which themselves, showed signs of weathering. Fred, who sat in the cab seat behind Norman was the first to get out of the truck. As he got out, he placed his M1A gently on the floorboard and removed his pistol belt, setting it down beside his rifle. Norman got out of the truck, shortly followed by Michelle and Grace, who both had been sitting in the front seat with him.
“Leave your weapons in the truck,” Fred instructed.
“You really think that’s a good idea?” Norman inquired.
“I think if we step foot on their property with firearms, it will give old man Brady a damn good reason to cut us to pieces with his shotgun,” Fred said firmly. “So yes, I think it’s a good idea.”
Norman nodded and set his AK inside the truck, then removed his pistol belt and set it on the floorboard. Michelle turned around and did the same with her pistol belt. Making sure that no one noticed, she unholstered her Glock and slid it into her waistband, pulling her t-shirt and hoodie down over it to hide the protruding grip. Grace stood still, her AR still slung over her shoulder. She didn’t budge. Fred noticed and snapped his fingers at her, a notion she ignored. Michelle tapped her on the shoulder and Grace quickly turned to her. The evening before this meeting had been a bit of a joke to them—now, it had become serious.
“Grace—you awake?” Fred asked.
“I’m not putting this gun down,” Grace asserted. “Sorry.”
Michelle looked at Norman who stood emotionless and then glanced at Fred, who appeared both a bit nervous and annoyed. She said, “Grace, we can’t appear as a threat to them.”
“What about them being a threat to us?” Grace quipped. “Sorry. I feel safer this way.”
“Stay in the truck then, and cover us,” Fred quickly inserted. Grace looked to him, then nodded and got into the rear passenger seat. She closed the door and rolled down the window, setting the barrel of her rifle on the door frame. Her eyes were darting all around her.
What's Left of My World: A Story of a Family's Survival Page 29
