by Mark Goodwin
“It’s been fifteen days since the attacks. I knew we’d have some issues being in such close quarters, but I didn’t expect it to be between you and Lisa. You guys have been living together for a couple years. I thought you guys had it down to a science.”
Ken looked around as if he wanted to see if anyone else was listening. “It’s not really that.”
Everett picked up on the hint that he would rather have this discussion in private. “I’m going to look for some firewood. Why don’t you grab your jacket and come with me?”
Ken stood up. “Alright. Are you taking a rifle?”
“No, I need to be able to use both hands, and I can’t have the sling falling off my shoulder every time I bend down to pick up a log. I’ve got the HK pistol.”
“Can I borrow a pistol to take?”
“Sure, I’ll grab the Sig for you.” Everett climbed the ladder to get the Sig out of the safe.
Courtney was reclining on the bed reading an old spy novel that Jones had left in the cabin. “Where are you going?”
“Out to collect some wood. What we have will last about a month. If we get a lot of snow this winter, wood will be hard to find. I’d like to get enough to last us till April.”
Courtney started to sit up. “I’ll come with you.”
“Thanks, but I think Ken needs to talk. He’s coming with me. Lisa is asleep. Can you keep an eye out?”
Courtney resumed her position and picked the book back up. “Sure.”
“Thanks, if we’re not back in two hours, the bears probably got us.”
Courtney faked a look of disgust. “Great, then I’ll have to collect all the wood myself.”
Everett winked, stuck the Sig in his waist, and climbed down the ladder.
Ken was ready to go when Everett got back to the living room. He took the Sig from Everett. “Thanks. Is it loaded?”
Everett nodded. “One in the pipe. Just hit the safety, and you’re ready to go.”
As soon as they walked out the door, Everett asked, “So, what’s up?”
Ken sighed. “I don’t know. We didn’t have a fight or anything. But she doesn’t think we should be sleeping together anymore.”
“Whoa, sounds serious. You didn’t see this coming? She’s stuck in the woods with you for the next few months, so obviously it’s not another guy.”
Ken shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. She’s claiming that she said some prayer with that Guthrie guy over the radio back when he was still on the air. Then she started reading Jones’s Bible, and now she feels…oh, what’ the word she used?” Ken looked up at the tree limbs overhead. “Convicted, she feels convicted about us sleeping together.”
Everett handed the hatchet to Ken and pulled the ax out of the wood shed. “Bummer. Do you think she’s being legit, or is that just an excuse?”
Ken sighed. “Lisa sat me down and told me how much she loved me and all that. She looked pretty sincere.”
“Maybe it’s just a phase. You know, all the stress from the Apocalypse.”
“I don’t think so. I know this girl. She doesn’t really have phases. When she puts her mind to something, that’s how it’s going to be.”
Everett ran the metal file across the blade of the ax to freshen up the edge. “I think we let her get isolated by taking night watch all the time. She seemed to enjoy the quiet time, and it was good because the rest of us could have a regular schedule, but we need to change that. She probably doesn’t feel like part of the group and is inventing some alternate reality to make her feel safe.”
Ken used the file on the hatchet for a minute after Everett was finished. “You could be right. Jones was a Mason. Was that a regular Bible, or could it have some kind of Masonic spell on it?”
“Bro, that sounds as crazy as the story she’s giving you. There’s a logical reason for all of this. Start at the beginning. What did she tell you about the guy on the radio?”
Ken followed Everett up the hillside. “I’m not sure if I remember it all. My eyes kind of glazed over. I was half listening to her and half trying to figure out how this happened to someone as grounded as Lisa. Trust me, she’s not the coo-coo-cult-following type. This Guthrie guy was saying on his program that there was no way a person could be good enough to go to heaven. Something about how everybody has sinned, and we’re all going to die. Since God is perfect, we can only go to heaven if we’re perfect. Basically, we’re all going to hell.”
Everett laughed. “Yeah, that’s a great message. Especially right now when people really need hope. I can see why he’s off the air. How did Lisa get sucked into all that?”
“Well, here’s the hook. Jesus supposedly was perfect, because he was God in human form. Guthrie said Jesus allowed himself to be killed, to be a sacrifice for all of humanity. The Bible claims the sacrifice of Jesus’s blood pays the price for our sin. Somehow, people who believe that will be allowed into heaven.”
Everett rolled his eyes. “And the Muslims believe Mohamad will get them into heaven, and the Buddhist think Buddha will show them the way to Nirvana. Did you know there is actually a Jedi religion based on the Star Wars movie?”
“I didn’t say it exactly that way, but I gave her a similar argument. She says out of all the prophets, all the major religions, Jesus was the only one who came back to life.”
“Oh, come on. Jesus is worm food just like Mohamad and Buddha. That resurrection thing is a fairy tale.”
“I told her that too.”
“And what did she have to say?”
“The guys who perpetrated this fairy tale, they all died because they wouldn’t just admit that it was a lie. One was crucified upside down, a bunch of them were beheaded. Out of all his main followers, only one survived, and that guy was exiled and boiled in oil. How do you explain that? We work in intelligence. You know how easy it is to turn someone who doesn’t believe in the cause. These guys were true believers. This whole religion is based on some guy coming back to life to prove he’s God. If that part is a lie, the whole thing is a lie. You’ve been an analyst long enough. People won’t die for something they don’t believe in, and nobody would endure that kind of a death for something they know to be a lie.”
Everett didn’t like where this was going. It was bringing about that same old feeling of discomfort that he’d felt with Jones. Was this what Lisa felt? Was this what Ken called conviction? Everett thought back to classic cartoons he’d watched as a small child. A common depiction of internal conflict was an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other shoulder—each trying to convince the character to follow a specific course of action.
He quickly changed the subject. “But what does any of that have to do with you two sleeping in the same bed? If Jesus paid for her sins, she should be all good, right?”
“I don’t know. She said something about treating the blood of Christ as a license for sin. I guess there’s a rule that you can’t do that.”
“And that’s in the Bible? I’d make her show it to you. It sounds made up to me.”
“She’s reading it all the time. If it’s in there, she’ll probably find it. At this point, I don’t want to challenge her on it. Seems like she’s got an answer for everything.”
Everett found a downed tree about eight inches thick. “Think we can drag this back to the cabin and work on it there?”
Ken pulled a couple of the smaller branches off. “If we knock off these larger branches, yeah, I think so. Good thinking to look for wood up hill. It will be a whole lot easier to drag it back down.”
“Thanks.” Everett swung the ax against one of the longer branches. “So what are you going to do?”
Ken worked another branch. “I’m not sure. I love her. I guess I could marry her and make an honest woman out of her.”
Everett dropped his ax and laughed. “That sounds like something out of an episode of Leave it to Beaver. What if this religion kick goes on with Lisa for years? Do you think you can deal with that?”
&nbs
p; Ken kept chopping. “That’s what love is, right? You stay with someone, no matter what.”
“Whatever. The Apocalypse will be over with, and things will get back to normal. There are other fish in the sea.”
Ken stopped chopping long enough to look at Everett. “Normal? I thought you said things would never go back to the way they were.”
“You know what I mean. It will be a new normal. We won’t be stuck in the cabin forever. I’m just saying you’ll have other opportunities.”
“I don’t want other opportunities. I love Lisa. I think I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Ken kept swinging the hatchet.
“You’re my friend. I’ll support you whatever you decide.” Everett finished the limb he was working on.
“Thanks. There’s going to be a market set up in Strasburg on Friday. It’s about five miles north of Woodstock. I was thinking of going down there to see if anyone would trade something for a ring.”
“Seriously? What type of market?” Everett found a section of the small tree to grab and started pulling it down the hill.
Ken took hold of another part of the tree. “They’re calling it the Black Friday Trading Post.”
“That’s right, Thursday is Thanksgiving. I guess I’ve depended on the decorations in the stores to let me know when a holiday is approaching. Lisa and Courtney are going to want to go if they find out about it.”
Ken glanced over at Everett. “There’s no way to hide it from them if I go. Could you stay behind and watch the cabin?”
“We haven’t had any trouble yet. If we don’t spend too much time there, we could be back in two hours. I think we could all go.”
“That would be great. Another reason I’d like to go is to try to find a copy of some guerilla newspaper going around. Everyone is talking about it over the Ham. Supposedly, it’s called the Tallmadge Letter.”
“Like Benjamin Tallmadge, the leader of the Culper Spy Ring? Sounds like something someone from intelligence would write.” Everett dropped the tree so he could free a limb that had caught a sapling while passing by.
Ken helped him reposition the tree, so they could continue down the hill. “Yeah, I guess that’s the inspiration. There are other editions popping up around the country now. One out of the inland Pacific Northwest called the Northwest Tallmadge Letter, the Southern Tallmadge Letter, and the Iowa Tallmadge Letter. Since alternative media sites are being shut down as soon as they speak out against the state, these newsletters are trying to fill in the gap.”
“Are they all connected?”
“Nobody knows, but the consensus is that it’s a completely decentralized movement. Sounds more and more like people are ready to start fighting back. I heard two more reports of attacks against DHS yesterday. One was an ambush against a supply convoy. Sounds like they got a lot of stuff. The other was another attack to liberate a detention camp. When DHS is going in to round up these military guys who are suspected as being affiliated with APC, they’re taking lots of casualties. Most of the militia know they’re on the round-up list, so they’re bugging out. When DHS is able to locate them, the militia are fighting to the death.”
“I’ve told Courtney that I don’t think I can go back to work for the Company. If I were going to get involved, it’d probably be to help the patriots.”
“You’d be going up against the most powerful war machine in the history of the world.”
Everett glanced over at his friend. “I know. But, as CIA employees, we took an oath to uphold the Constitution. Our agency bends the rules more than most for what we’re told is the good of the country, but this op has gone way off the reservation.”
“You’re right. Maybe I should reconsider trying to reach out to Spindle.”
“We can give it a shot tonight if you want. What are you planning to trade for the ring?”
“My Rolex. It’s the only thing I have of value.”
Everett thought about the coins in the safe. He had planned for them to be his means of starting over once the smoke cleared. The ones Jones left him hadn’t cost him anything. He considered the situation with Ken and Lisa. They’d been perfectly happy, until this Jesus guy came along. Why was someone who is supposed to be such a nice person creating all of these headaches for me?
Then another thought hit Everett. If it hadn’t been for what Jones believed about that Jesus guy, I might not have this cozy little cabin. I might be stuck in Ashburn and having an entirely different apocalyptic experience—one of the zombie variety. Well, I’m not about to say thank you to an imaginary being, but I could offer to help Ken get an engagement ring. If God does exist, that should make him happy for now. Seems like I remember hearing that Jesus said, “Do good unto others,” or something like that.
“We might have some stuff you could trade for a nice ring. You can keep your watch.”
Ken kept pulling the tree. “I can’t let you do that.”
“I insist.”
Ken smiled. “Will you be my best man if she says yes?”
At that moment, Everett realized that Ken was his best friend. If he wasn’t, what were they doing surviving in the woods together? “I’d be honored.”
***
That evening after dinner, Everett watched Ken as he connected the appropriate cables from the tablet computer to the Ham radio to broadcast the PSK31 encrypted message. Everett typed, “This is Undertow. I’m trying to reach Spindle. I’m a friend of a friend.”
The message was put through the text encryption program, then sent out as an encrypted text message via PSK31 over the specified frequency at the specified time on the Word document that Everett had found on the flash drive.
Minutes later, the radio chirped and made a high-pitched series of hums and whirrs, similar to an old fax-machine connect tone of years long past.
A string of letters poured out across the text field of the Fldigi program. The letters were nonsensical. It had to be a coded message.
Ken cut and pasted the line of gibberish into the text box for the encryption program. The message was quickly deciphered. “This is Spindle. Go ahead, Undertow.”
CHAPTER 18
Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him; do not fret when men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes. Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret—it leads only to evil. For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the LORD will inherit the land. A little while, and the wicked will be no more; though you look for them, they will not be found. But the meek will inherit the land and enjoy great peace. The wicked plot against the righteous and gnash their teeth at them; but the Lord laughs at the wicked, for he knows their day is coming.
Psalms 37:3-13
On Wednesday afternoon, Noah poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down at the table to read his Bible.
Cassie called for Lacy, “Lunch is ready.”
“Coming,” Lacy answered.
Cassie poured some alphabet soup in a bowl and cut the grilled cheese sandwich into four triangles, just the way Lacy liked it. She placed it on the table in front of Lacy’s chair.
Lacy climbed into her chair. “Where is you and Daddy’s food?”
Noah tussled her hair. “You go ahead and eat. Mommy and I are fasting. Isaiah asked all the grown-ups to fast today.”
“Why?” she asked.
Noah glanced at Cassie, then back at Lacy. “Remember when the lady took you away from Mommy and Daddy?”
Lacy’s face lost its glow as she nodded.
Noah knew she remembered; Lacy would often wake up screaming in the middle of the night because she couldn’t forget. He hated to remind her of the violent event, but he knew acting like it never happened wouldn�
�t help either.
“Those same people took some other folks away from their family. A lot of people got involved to help Mommy and Daddy bring you home. Now, it’s Daddy’s turn to help bring those other folks back to their families. We really need God’s help with this job, so we’re fasting and praying for help.”
Cassie stood behind Lacy and stroked her hair.
Lacy played with one of the sandwich triangles but didn’t eat it. Finally, Lacy put the sandwich back on the plate and looked up at Noah. “Then I want to fast too. I want God to help you bring those people home to their families.”
Noah nodded. He could feel the emotion welling up in his throat. He stood, kissed his daughter on the head, and briskly walked to the bedroom. He shut the door and buried his head in the pillow as he tried to suppress his wailing. He regained his composure and tried to understand why he’d gotten so upset. He prayed silently. “God, my heart is so heavy. I don’t want to leave my family, but I know what I have to do. I pray that you’ll grant us victory and bring us all home safely. But your will be done. If I am to die, I pray you’ll watch over Lacy and Cassie and provide for their every need. I’m so grateful for the time I’ve had with them. I thank you for their faith, especially Lacy’s. She’s just a little child, but she believes that if she skips a meal, you’ll hear her petition for me and the people we’re going to rescue.”
Noah positioned the pillow on the floor beneath his knees and continued to pray. Cassie and Lacy came in a few minutes later. They knelt by the bed, next to Noah, and prayed together as a family.
***
The next morning, Noah prayed again before leaving the bedroom. Afterwards, he stretched and went to the kitchen. Lacy was up and petting the cat when Noah walked in. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Good morning, Daddy. Are we still fasting?”
“No honey. Today is Thanksgiving. We’re feasting today.”
“Good. Can I have some pancakes for breakfast?”
“Sure thing. Did you pack some toys to take out to the cabin?”
