Hannibal is at the Gates

by David Kershner

  Their timing couldn’t have been more perfect. That was, assuming the United Nations and their posturing could be taken as fact. If the PM and the rest of the assembled core that owned U.S. debt had the stomach for an actual invasion, then Suhrab and his men would make their job all that much easier. He relished the thought of the Americans in the streets throwing rocks at tanks.

  Chapter 5

  November 15, 2022 – January 20, 2023

  General Brent Howard sat on the front porch of the cabin licking his wounds. Josh exited and handed him a bag of ice and a glass of bourbon, neat. He would need both to assuage the shame in having being beaten on by Katherine.

  “Your daughter has one hell of a right hook, Josh,” the General said in an attempt to break the ice.

  “Yeah well, she’s got a lot of pent up anger towards her mother. Thanks for not fighting back though.”

  “Fight back hell! It was all I could do to keep my head covered! That girl’s a fighter.”

  Josh chuckled at the comment, sat down, and said, “The three of them just learned the truth about Amanda and her treachery. You dropping in out of the sky didn’t help,” Josh replied.

  “Me? What the hell did I do?”

  Josh leaned forward to retrieve Amanda’s confession from his back pocket. He had placed it there knowing full well that the General was going to need to read it. Brent Howard was the lone remaining person that needed to understand. When he was done, Josh was set to burn it. All of the vile truths contained in step nine of Amanda’s AA derived letter had harmed enough people.

  “You read that and then we’ll talk some more,” Josh said as he got up and re-entered the cabin.

  While the General read, Josh returned to the task of reassembling the relay for the driveway alarm system. After a few minutes of tinkering, reconnecting, and soldering wires, the device began chiming anew. Josh thought he had misconnected some of the wiring when the thing kept going off. When a realtor with a ‘Mossy Oak Properties’ magnet on his door swung down out of the woods, he realized his mistake

  Josh had used the realty company to help locate the farm property in the rural southeastern region of the state. He hadn’t chosen the area or the location at random though. Of the eighty-eight counties in the state of Ohio, the barely four hundred square miles comprising Vinton County was the most heavily forested and least populated in the entire state. If you were looking for a life outdoors and away from people, there was no better place.

  Brent knocked on the cabin wall and yelled to Josh, “You have a visitor,” but his host had already seen the man approaching.

  Josh put down the soldering gun, walked through the threshold of the cabin, and saw a familiar face exiting his SUV. The realtor was a bit taken aback to see a Marine Corps General in full dress uniform sitting on Josh’s porch, but progressed toward his potential client all the same.

  “Hey Scott, what brings you out this way?” Josh asked.

  Surprised, the man said, “Hi, Josh, I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

  “Of course. What can I do for you?” Josh inquired.

  “I don’t know if you are aware of it, but your neighbor recently passed on.”

  Josh nodded that he knew.

  “Well, seeing how you have right at a hundred and fifty acres here and she has another fifty adjoining. Long story short, her kids want to sell. I thought I’d check with you and see if you were interested.”

  “What’s she got over there?” Josh asked feigning intrigued.

  “Other than the acreage, it’s got a farm house, four hundred foot well, a couple of out buildings, some older machinery, and a good sized barn.”

  “Is her well pump in good order?”

  “Seems to be working. The inspector will be by in the morning though.”

  “She had about half and half, timber and field?” Josh asked already knowing the answer.

  “Yeah, that sounds about right,” the rep replied.

  “Why come to me? Why don’t they keep it in the family? That land has been paid off for some time now, right?” he asked inquisitively.

  “It has, but her husband passed some time ago and their children aren’t interested in being farmers.”

  “Seriously, with all of this going on, they are gonna sell their birth right?” Josh asked amazed at Scott’s answer.

  “Yup, damn fools if you ask me, but,” he said with a sigh. “I do what the client wants,” he replied.

  “What are they asking?” Josh offered.

  “We’ve got it priced at $199,900 right now.”

  “And the mineral rights?”

  “Transfer with the property,” the realtor answered.

  Josh had been thinking about the influx of visitors to the farm and this would be a perfect way to start letting his daughters spread their wings. He looked down at Brent with a smirk and said, “Tell them I’ll offer $175 cash. Offer’s good ‘til sundown.”

  Scott smiled at the answer and pressed ‘Send’ on his cell phone. He had already dialed the number while they were talking. He knew full well that Josh wouldn’t pass up on a large piece of adjoining property. Once the sellers were on the line, he proposed Josh’s offer. The realtor gave him the thumbs down.

  Josh replied with, “$180, as is.”

  He relayed the raised bid and listened intently. He frowned and mouthed the words ‘eighty-five’? Josh nodded his agreement. In truth, given the infusion of Amanda’s life insurance funds, Josh would have paid the asking price. If they were foolish enough to accept a lower offer then they deserved it. I guess Sam was right, he thought. Spend it on the girls she said.

  The pair filled out paperwork for the next twenty minutes and then Josh cut him a check for the agreed upon amount to put into escrow until the closing. The two shook hands and the realtor headed back to his office with the promise to stop by tomorrow with the finalized dates and details.

  “What the hell, Josh,” Brent said as Josh took the seat next to him on the porch.

  “What?” Josh replied.

  “You just bought fifty acres sight unseen and stroked a check for $185,000. Is this normal for you?” Brent asked, amazed at the speed of the process and the amount involved.

  “That wasn’t my money! I don’t have that kind of dough just laying around,” his old friend replied incredulously. “Amanda left my name on a life insurance policy. What I did do, however, was ensure that my girls would be close by when it all goes sideways. Plus, I wouldn’t say it was sight unseen either. I’ve been surveying her land since we got here. Now we have almost thirty acres of free hay fields for my animals. Besides, that old ‘nosey Nelly’ was practically giving the stuff away some years. That and she’s got the deepest well in these parts. The well pump fills a five hundred gallon cistern. The farmhouse is in good shape and the concrete storage tank uses a gravity feed to supply the house.

  “That old lady may have been a pain in my backside, but her husband was a genius. The man had homesteader in his genes. To be honest though, I needed to get some of these people out of my cabin,” he finished with a laugh. “If I’m reading the signs right, I think I might be getting remarried.”

  “Seriously? Who’s the lucky girl? More importantly, is she sane?” Brent questioned as he handed the letter back to his friend.

  “More so than me and the woman that wrote that at this point,” he replied with a smile. “I haven’t asked her yet though. I need to talk to the girls first.”

  “Well good luck. Nobody deserves to be happy more than you. As for that,” the General replied as he motioned toward the letter. “I don’t know what to say. As a father, I think we can both attest to the fact that I did what I thought was best for my child. You have children of your own now. I don’t think there’s any argument there.”

  Sighing, Josh flatly said, “Agreed.”

  “I’m telling you now, as God is my witness, I had no idea Amanda had so many issues. When I asked her to hide things about Jessica from you I meant while
you were in the hospital. I never intended for her to continue the charade through a marriage.”

  “She had a number of skeletons in her closet that I wasn’t aware of, I’ll grant you that. Here’s the problem though, and the reason why Katherine just went after you. The girls, Heather included, have read this letter. All three are feeling different things right now. I’m pretty sure Layla is still processing it so you might get another beating once she’s done. Your granddaughter’s is guilt. She believes that she was the basis for Amanda cracking. My youngest on the other hand...” Josh said before his voice trailed off.

  “She is one angry young lady who thinks I poisoned her mother against her and her sister before she was even born,” Brent said with great empathy.

  “Unfortunately, yes. That is exactly what she’s feeling,” Josh replied in earnest.

  “Where are they?” Brent asked.

  “The girls? They are all up in Layla’s room. Why?”

  “Because I need to set this right, that’s why,” the General answered determined.

  “Good luck with that,” Josh said sarcastically. “When you’re done, I might as well talk to them about Samantha and see if I can get their blessing.”

  * * *

  Airman Hector Ortiz awoke with a start when the pounding on his door began. The male voice on the other side was speaking rapidly in Spanish. They were asking for help. Their wife was in labor and the subfreezing temperatures had killed his car battery. Hector understood the man’s pleas. He threw off the covers and quickly went to the door to offer assistance.

  Hector hastily unlocked it, turned the knob, and yanked it open. In front of him was a man so similar in stature and appearance that he could have been looking in a mirror. Without warning, the man raised a suppressed weapon, aimed it at Hector’s forehead, and pulled the trigger. With a ‘thwack’ from of pistol, the assailant was in the room before Hector’s body barely had time to hit the floor.

  He quickly shut the door to the motel room and began the search for the dead man’s transfer order. Hector had just completed his technical training for Missile and Space Systems Maintenance, and was scheduled to report for duty at 9:00 AM that morning. As the assailant searched the room, he saw that all of Hector’s Air Force issued possessions were still neatly folded in his duffle, or on top of the dresser. This made searching for the assignment orders all that much easier. It took him less than a minute to find what he was looking for carefully placed in the nightstand drawer.

  Once found, he threw it on the bed and walked over to Hector’s body. He grabbed the deceased under the arms and dragged the leaking corpse to the bathroom. After placing him in the bathtub, he caught his reflection in the mirror as he exited. He saw blood splatter from the kill shot adorning his face. He quickly turned on the faucet and began washing it off. As he stood, the assassin stopped and starred at himself.

  You’re a bad man. A very bad man.

  His mother had said that to him numerous times throughout his youth. Usually after he had been picking on his sister or fighting with his older brother.

  He dried his face with the hanging towel and headed to the bed to review the orders. He had four hours to memorize the contents, make the latex fingerprint overlays, brush up on anything he might not have already known about the Airman, and report for duty. On top of that, he also needed to dispose of the body. The gunmen already knew a great deal about his counterpart though.

  The man had been under observation for some time. As a result, the dossier was quite extensive. Spending habits, family contact frequency, likes, dislikes, tastes, and female companionship preferences littered the documentation. Unfortunately for the deceased, he had no enemies and therefore had no reason to survey his surroundings. The Airman had failed to notice the tail following him all the way from Texas.

  As he read the packet, he was struck by the thought that his Oxford education had cost about fifty thousand pounds while the late Hector Ortiz had received comparable training for free from the U.S. military. Had he been born in the States, instead of the U.K., he too would have probably taken that path.

  Three and half-hours later, he completed his tasks at the motel and was just about to finish the thirteen mile trip. The murderous doppelganger turned off of Route 83 on to Missile Avenue and approached the main gate of Minot Air Force Base. The remote northern North Dakota airbase was home to the 5th Bomb Wing, and its aging B-52 Stratofortress’, as well as the 91st Missile Wing. Hector Ortiz, or rather, the man wearing Hector Ortiz’s uniform and carrying the dead man’s orders, was about to report for duty and start working on the hundred and fifty Minuteman III guided nuclear missiles currently residing on station. Hector’s body, on the other hand, was spread all over the little town in every available dumpster he could find, carefully placed in double layered black trash bags.

  While he waited in line to be checked through the gate in the Airman’s car, he began scanning and memorizing the locations of all sentries, guards, and patrols. Relax. Just relax, Abbas. You are Airman Hector Ortiz from Tuscan, Arizona.

  * * *

  Colonel James and Gregg exited their rental sedan in the parking lot of the Bear Claw Saloon in Crestline, California and stretched. After spending a day observing the home in Albany, they saw no sign of Cecil Sullivan’s presence. The pair decided enough was enough and Colonel James approached the house. As he approached, Gregg went and stood concealed by the back door.

  When he knocked on the front door, Cecil’s sister, Anna, greeted him warmly.

  “Hello, you must be looking for Cecil,” she said as she opened the door and observed his military uniform.

  “Well, yes, actually. I’m Dr. James. I’m a psychiatrist from Walter Reed. I’m trying to follow-up with Cecil,” he answered. It wasn’t a complete lie. He was a shrink after all.

  “Oh, thank God,” Anna said relieved. “Please come in.”

  The two took seats on the couch in her living room. Colonel James then asked her to explain her relief.

  “Cecil has been having a rough go of it,” she started.

  “How so?”

  “Well, most nights he wakes up screaming covered in sweat. When I would run into his room he’d bark at me and send me away. He always said it was a bad dream.”

  Colonel James didn’t offer any commentary. She noticed.

  “Look, you don’t have to treat me with kid gloves. I know he was a POW for almost a year. I was briefed about the torture when I signed him out. The doctors told me all about it and I’ve seen the scars. I didn’t want to push him by asking him to talk about his experience, but I knew he was in pain,” Anna concluded.

  Colonel James did reply this time. As gently as he could, he explained aspects of the ‘bad dream’. He described the torture techniques, the beatings, the sleep deprivation, and the mental and physical toll it all took. Anna began to weep.

  Through her tears, Anna said, “He’s been drinking heavily since he arrived two months ago. I think he’s trying to drown out the voices.”

  “It’s very important that I speak with him, Anna. Where is he? When will he be back?” the Colonel asked.

  Anna discreetly removed a tissue from the box and cleared her sinus. When she finished, she said, “He took the train to JFK and caught a flight to Los Angeles a few days ago. One of his friends called a week or so ago while Cecil was out. He asked how he was doing and we got to talking.”

  “And how did that go? The conversation I mean. How did the friend react to what you told him?” the Colonel asked.

  “He seemed concerned for Cecil. He wanted to help. He phoned again later that night and they spoke. He convinced him to go backpacking near Big Bear Lake in the San Bernardino National Forest. That’s good, right? That he got out into open air, out of the house, out of the bar, right?”

  Colonel James quickly answered, “Yes, yes. That’s very good. He’s recognizing that a change is needed.”

  The doctor thanked her for the information and said his good
byes with the promise to help Cecil as much as he could. Gregg and the Colonel caught the first flight they could get from JFK to LAX the following morning. Between the airtime, time zone changes, car rental delays, and traffic, the pair didn’t reach Crestline until just before sundown and were starving.

  Crestline, California is the last town of note between San Bernardino and the village of Big Bear Lake. The car needed to be topped off after the drive up the mountain as much as they did. The thirty-mile stretch along the Rim of the World Highway from Crestline to Big Bear was going to take over an hour.

  Before heading up to Crestline, the pair stopped at the Forest Headquarters station in San Bernardino. They had no record of Cecil pulling a permit for a campsite. They told Colonel James it was entirely possible that they were renting a cabin or staying in a motel in Crestline or in Big Bear Lake.

  As they entered the restaurant, the patrons of the local watering hole turned and gave the pair a discerning eye. The two took a seat at the nearest booth and waited for the waitress. An older woman approached and sat next to Gregg in the booth.

  “Welcome to the Bear Claw Saloon, gentlemen. I’m Tammy and my husband and I own this establishment,” she said.

  Gregg slid over to accommodate her girth when Colonel James answered, “Nice to meet you, Tammy. What’s good here?”

  “The burgers are top rate, but before I decide whether or not to serve you, you two need to answer some questions.”

  This ought to be good, Gregg thought to say, but opted to keep his mouth shut.

  Colonel James, ever the psychiatrist, replied, “Well, since this is your establishment, by all means, ask away.”

  She smiled a demure, but flirtatious, smile and asked, “Question one. Are either of you boys revenuers?”

  “Like tax collectors?” Colonel James asked.