Hannibal is at the Gates

by David Kershner

  As the two shook hands, Josh asked, “And who, exactly, gave you this impression?”

  Before he realized what he was saying, Gregg offered, “President Sarkes implied that my wife had run off when I asked him –,”

  “And how is old Ironsides these days?” Brent interrupted.

  “He’s good, sir,” Gregg quickly answered.

  “And where did you happen to meet the former President?” Josh pressed further.

  Gregg explained, “We met at Camp David on another matter.”

  “Intrigue and mystery, I like this guy already. Can we keep him?” Dallas mocked.

  * * *

  A steady stream of people continued to enter the cabin for dinner. Gregg was formally introduced to Sam and Josh’s daughters first. Then Evan arrived and the Martinez family followed him a few minutes later. Everyone wanted to speak with Gregg. They peppered him about his background and skill set. No one asked about his captivity.

  After grace, the meal was served and the hard questions came at Gregg a mile a minute. The comment that immediately quieted the table was asked by Heather, “What did you mean when you said you watched a video from the cave?”

  All eyes trained on Gregg as they awaited a response.

  He eschewed the question when he responded, “I’m sorry. That’s classified.”

  The former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs guffawed the answer, “Son, it’s no more classified than the British designs for our nation around here. Now out with it.”

  “But sir, I – ,” Gregg started to say when his wife cut him off.

  “It’s okay, honey. I think it’s safe to say that we are among friends. By all accounts, it seems as if there are no secrets here.”

  “Or I could just tell you it’s an order,” the General interjected.

  Gregg pondered the request for a few moments before speaking. “I’d like some answers first, if you don’t mind,” he directed at Josh.

  “All right, fire away. What would you like to know?” his host answered as he leaned back in his chair.

  “Well, on the surface, this looks like a normal farm. Last night I did some recon and this place is far from it.”

  “Oh, how so?” Josh asked as he leaned forward and steepled his fingers and hands above his plate.

  “To begin with, where did you people come from?”

  Sam laughed, then added, “Sorry. That was my first question too. Please continue.”

  “As I was starting to say, there was the .50 cal in the barn and a sniper’s nest overlooking the property. I found some spider holes spaced fifty yards apart along the driveway. I counted several hidden pumps that were fed by underground tanks. The other structures look like ordinary things; greenhouse, smokehouses, root cellars, storage, etcetera.”

  “Fair enough,” Josh said interrupting the man. “The .50 was for my daughter’s protection. They were abducted some years ago and the lunatic was only recently caught,” he said glossing over the details.

  He continued by adding, “The pumps are attached to fuel tanks for the various machines, vehicles, and heat oil. As for us, we are an assembled band of misfit toys. Let’s see,” he started to say as he directed Gregg’s attention to the people around the table.

  “I’m a retired Marine officer. Now I’m just a lowly farmer. Samantha is former pararescue and is soon to be my wife. Brent, you know as the former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and once upon a time, my CO. Dallas and I grew up together. He’s the outdoorsman, tracker, and hunter. James was a sergeant in my old unit who also happens to have made a rotation or two as a Recon sniper. Basilia is a doctor. Her husband is my farm manager and his sons are mechanics, welders, and machinists respectively. My daughter Layla and your wife, for all intents and purposes, are herbalists or simply biologists if you prefer, Emily. Heather was an actress, but she’s learning her way. My youngest, Katherine, is our resident butcher and quite the effective tactician.”

  Josh would have continued on, but was interrupted by the General’s cell phone.

  All focus immediately shifted to Brent.

  The retired General embarrassingly answered the call, “We’re in the middle of din—,” he began when he abruptly stopped. When he spoke again he said, “Patch them through.”

  Brent listened as a series of dings and clicks chimed in his ear. He heard the caller say, “Hello?”

  The former Joint Chief answered with, “This is General Brent Howard.”

  “Is that really you?” the voice said.

  “Yes, it’s really me. Whom am I speaking with?” Brent answered as the collective group looked on with anticipation.

  “This is President Thomas Sarkes and I’m afraid we are in a bit of a bind.”

  “President Sarkes, sir. It’s a pleasure to hear from you. I’m not sure I can offer any assistance at this –,” he started to answer before Gregg grabbed the phone out of his hand.

  “This is ‘Longbow’,” Gregg said as he invoked his moniker from his former Special Operations team. “What do you need ‘Ironside’?”

  “It can’t be,” the President replied.

  “It is, sir. If you’ll forgive my candor, but you called us.”

  “Right, please hold for ‘Hoplite’.”

  Gregg whistled at the pronouncement of his team commander’s call sign.

  “This is Hoplite, do you copy?”

  “Loud and clear, it’s good to hear your voice, sir,” Gregg answered.

  “You too, listen, we’ve got a big problem. Ironside is telling me you are familiar with our cargo, is that correct?”

  “That’s affirmative. I’m with the ‘Old Grunt’ and a number of others that appear to have been read in,” Gregg replied. He then turned to Brent and said, “Sorry, sir. That was their codename for you when you were Chairman. It wasn’t my idea. No offense.”

  Brent quickly replied, “None taken,” and motioned for him to return to the call.

  “Excellent,” Hoplite answered. “What is your current location? We are en route.”

  Gregg turned to Josh. “My old commanding officer needs to know how to get to the farm,” he said as he handed him the phone.

  Emily had never been so happy to hear those words, ‘my old commanding officer’. She smiled a genuine smile at him. I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words, she thought. He’s truly home to stay.

  Josh hastily took the phone and asked, “Can you handle coordinates, or do you need an address?”

  “Either is fine. Ready when you are,” Hoplite replied.

  Josh quickly and clearly recited the location of the farm. When he finished, they were read back to him as confirmation.

  “What is your ETA?” Josh asked.

  There was a pause and then, “One hour.”

  Josh hung up the phone and handed it back to Brent. “Young man, come with me,” he directed at Gregg and started walking to his office.

  Without being invited, Brent trailed and closed the door behind him as he entered. Josh turned and sat on the edge of the large oak desk, crossed his arms, and said, “All right, let’s have it. What are we missing?”

  “I’m not telling you sh—,” Gregg started to say when Josh cocked his eye as a warning. “I don’t know you people from Adam. It’s National Security. That’s all you need to know. Who the hell are you anyway?”

  Brent was about to lay into Gregg for his insubordination and indignation when his friend held up his hand. “It’s all right, Brent. Perhaps he needs some confirmation that we know a few things too.”

  Josh then directed his gaze at Gregg and said, “Let’s review what we hicks out here in the boondocks do know.”

  Josh proceeded to tick off the list of items that had been confirmed. “We’ve got the British and the international finance law changes. The UN plans for an occupation if Rayburn tells the King to go spit and doesn’t pay up. Then there’s Operation Delta and the redistribution of the nation’s hard assets to Omaha and Cleveland. Seeing how I just had a conversation
with the Team Leader of a SpecOps group handling one of those convoys, I’d say they ran into to some trouble. Oh, and let’s not forget about that EMP that brought down a cargo plane over a suburb seventy-files miles from here.

  “From there it’s just speculation. The Brits have probably planted some of their MI-6 rank and file personnel over here to keep an eye on our Federal Reserve and Mint facilities. Maybe some SAS teams too. Frankly, I wouldn’t be overly surprised to hear that they linked up with assets from other countries. My guess is that somehow you’re right in the middle of whatever hailstorm is heading our way. So I’ll ask it again, what are we missing? Who’s after them? I can help, but only if I know what I’m dealing with.”

  “That’s an impressive bit of conjecture,” Gregg answered. “You could have determined half of that by paying attention to the nightly news. The rest of it could have come from grandpa over here when he was talking in his sleep.”

  Emily, quietly listening on the other side of the closed double doors had heard enough.

  Without warning, she burst through. “I’ve had it with you and your incessant need to mark your territory!” she decreed as she placed herself between Josh and her husband. Without skipping a beat, she continued to forcefully address Gregg as she turned to face him. “You’ve been here less than half a day and you’re already alienating these people.”

  “But –,” her husband started to say.

  “But nothing. So help me, I love you, but you lied to me... for years you looked me in the eye and you lied. You will spend the rest of your life making that up to me. To that end, the first thing you’re gonna do is trust me. They’ve been far more gracious then you’ve ever been!”

  Gregg was stunned. He said nothing. He could say nothing. The Emily he remembered hated confrontation. She would have never done that before.

  Emily stared at him waiting for an answer or a reply. Still no response came.

  “Fine,” she said as walked to the door and closed it. She spun around and demanded, “You two need some common ground to get things started? Here ya go. Both of you, take off your shirts.” She shifted her gaze briefly enough to command, “Brent, you’re excused.”

  Brent started to say something, thought better of it, and quietly departed the office.

  “What? Hell no. I’m not doing that,” Gregg said indignantly as the General shut the door behind him.

  Without warning Emily stepped toward her husband and slapped him as hard as she could in the face.

  “Don’t you dare tell me ‘no’ after what you did to me you son-of-a-bitch!” she hissed at him. “Do it now or you can pick your shit up off the front lawn on your way out!”

  She hadn’t realized it, but she was crying. Gregg wanted to grab her and hold her. He wished he could say the right thing, but the words were too far out of reach.

  Realizing the gravity of the secret she had just blurted out in the tirade against her husband, Emily turned Josh’s direction and said, “I’m sorry, Josh. Samantha told me about some things while I was working with the Secretary. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Josh waved her off. “It’s fine.”

  Emily slowly turned back and faced her husband. “Do it for me. Please,” she whispered.

  “I –. It took everything I had just to show you, Em,” he said softly after absorbing her venomous rage.

  “It’s something you both have in common and need to see,” she replied as she slowly began unbuttoning it for him.

  Gregg was powerless. He never could refuse her.

  His shirt silently fell to the floor and the pair turned to see Josh had already removed his.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Josh deadpanned.

  The Chastain’s chuckled. Emily snorted back snot and phlegm in a very unbecoming fashion as she laughed.

  “Are those bullet wounds?” Gregg asked as he approached.

  “Yeah,” Josh answered as he glanced down at his chest. “What’d they use on you?”

  “A branding iron, tasers, belts, and whips mostly... oh and a chair. Bare knuckles occasionally. You?”

  The pair cathartically swapped the horror stories that comprised their captivity separated by twenty years of history. Somewhere in middle of it all, Emily slipped out of the office. Half an hour passed before they emerged. When it was said and done, Gregg had bared his soul about Suhrab, Abbas, Cecil, and the meeting with President Sarkes at Camp David.

  “Evan, James, and Dallas,” Josh barked as he flung the doors open and continued to button his shirt. “All essential electronic gear needs to be put in the back room of the barn, ASAP,” he proclaimed as he threw James the keys. “Keep those doors shut and locked until further notice.”

  The trio started heading for the door as Josh continued.

  “Girls,” he said as he directed his attention to his daughters. “Take the Rhino and drag the sleds out to the well pumps here at the cabin and the Three Sisters,” he commanded as he referred to their neighboring farm. “I want those shrouds clamped down tight.”

  “Jesus and Abelardo,” he continued as he shifted his focus. “You boys handle to the greenhouse and your farmhouse.”

  The cabin emptied immediately and efficiently. Everyone knew their tasks. Only Josh, his bride to be, Brent, and the Chastain’s remained.

  “Uh,” Brent started to say as he slowly raised his hand.

  Josh looked at him quizzically. “What are you doing? This isn’t school. You can put your hand down.”

  As it sheepishly came back down, the General asked, “What are we supposed to do?”

  “Sam and I are gonna go oversee all of this activity and. You, my old friend, are about to be briefed on one whopper of a tale. So hold on to your butt!”

  Chapter 19

  January 25, 2023

  At three in the morning, Chester Daniels stepped out of the muddy Toyota 4x4 truck in downtown McArthur. He walked over and looked at the sign that read; Hours 6:00 AM – 8:00 PM. He peaked in the truck to check on his travel companions. Alysin and Lily looked about as exhausted as he felt.

  After relieving himself behind the service station, he climbed back into the cab and said, “We’ll get some sleep here until they turn the pumps on. By dawn we’ll be at Josh’s farm,” he said to his comatose passengers.

  They grunted in reply.

  In truth, he only knew how to get to the small town because they had a road atlas. It had been a decade since they had been to the cabin. He figured he would ask directions from the gas station attendant when it opened.

  The trip from Portland to McArthur took close to four weeks instead of the one or two they had planned. After watching their adopted city burn, the three Tin Hatters and Officer Vic thought one last adventure was in order before they returned to reality. As a group, the four travelers opted for the warmer southern route and drove down the coast to LA.

  Alysin was so overcome with emotion when Vic departed in the median outside the city limits of his hometown that she broke down in tears. Without telling Chester and Lily, she whispered their destination to him and told him to head there if things got too bad in St. Louis.

  The three cracked the windows and settled in for some much needed rest. They were all asleep within minutes.

  At 5:30, they were startled awake by the continued clanging on the glass. As they started to stir, the halogen beam of a flashlight illuminated the cabin.

  “Step out of the truck, please,” came the instruction.

  Chester turned the key to begin drawing power from the battery and pressed the down button for the driver’s side window.

  “What?” he said drowsily. “What’s going on?”

  “Please exit the vehicle, sir,” the unidentified voice said again.

  “Why? We’re just waiting for the gas station to open so we can be on our way,” Chester replied.

  “That’s fine, sir. Please step out all the same.”

  Chester groaned, but complied.

  “Do you h
ave any weapons? Any paraphernalia on your person? Any needles?”

  “What? No,” Chester answered indignantly.

  “Do I have your permission to search you and your vehicle, sir?”

  “No, you certainly do not,” he replied clearly annoyed. “We haven’t done anything other than sleep. There’s no probable cause.”

  “Oh, just let him get his jollies and look. We’ll be on our way soon enough,” Lily said as she started climb out the passenger side.

  “Ma’am, please exit slowly and come around the front of the vehicle.”

  Lily and Alysin complied with the order.

  Once the three were assembled, the man identified himself. “My name is Sheriff Jim Watson. Would you guys like to explain why you’re sleeping in a parking lot for a gas station that been closed for four years?”

  “Is that a crime?” Chester replied sarcastically.

  “No, but this road here is a major thoroughfare for contraband headed to Columbus from Meigs County. Your Washington plates drew a red flag. I tapped on that window for over a minute before you showed any signs of movement.”

  The three looked around and realized the Sheriff had been correct. The stationhouse windows were boarded up.

  Chester turned to Jim and sheepishly said, “Oops. It was a working gas station the last time we were here. I was so tired I didn’t notice.”

  “We’re exhausted, Sheriff. It took us almost a month to get here. All we want is some gas,” Lily added.

  “From Washington State to here? Where are ya’ll headed,” Jim asked quizzically.

  “We are going to see our friend. He’s got a farm not far from here,” Alysin said.

  Chester and Lily shushed her with their glares.

  “I see. And who’d that be?”

  “Josh Simmons. Do you know him? Chester doesn’t know where it is since it’s been so long. He thinks I don’t know,” Alysin offered innocently.

  “I know Josh. Everyone knows Josh around here. Let’s go over to the station and call him. He’s not a fan of people just stopping by though.”

  “That’d be great!” Alysin answered. “When you reach him, tell him the Tin Foil Hat Club requests his assistance. I told him if we ever came back that would be our code word.”