by Mel Odom
“What?”
“That woman news reporter just showed up.”
“What’s she doing there?”
“Nothing at the moment. Looks like she’s just watching him.”
“How did she know where the target was?”
“Don’t know, sir. You want me to-”
“Stay out of it,” Remington commanded. He didn’t know what Danielle Vinchenzo’s game was, but he was willing to let that develop a little as well. “Let her draw the heat for a while. Maybe she’ll force the target’s hand.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If something changes-”
“I’ll let you know immediately.”
Remington flipped frequencies and concentrated on the board, where Archer labored to put up the latest stats relayed by the intelligence teams. Men and women talked incessantly as they brought information together to hand off.
The monitors that fed video from cameras strung through the city kept breaking down. The feeds had to restart constantly. But the blank screens gave only a short reprieve from the absolute carnage unleashed on the city.
Dead lay in the streets. Survivors fought with the United States Army and with the United Nations units, demanding to be taken to a place of safety or to have help with a loved one who was wounded or dead.
In addition to death, the heavy hand of madness lay over the city as well.
“Hey, get back!” a man’s voice yelled.
Drawn by the fierce protectiveness in the words, Remington turned to face the entrance. A handful of soldiers held four civilians back. Three men and one woman, all Americans or Europeans from the sound of them, fought with the soldiers.
“Get those people out of here,” Remington commanded.
The soldiers pulled at the intruders, but they weren’t making much headway.
“You need to evacuate us,” the oldest man said. He looked like he was in his late thirties, powerfully built and broad. “You have planes. We’ve seen them.” He swatted one of the soldiers away with a vicious backhand that showed he was no stranger to violence. “We just want out of the city. You owe us that. We’re civilians. You’re supposed to save us. That’s your job, and I expect you to do it.”
The soldiers formed a line but gave up trying to remove the people.
They didn’t have the heart to do their jobs. Most of the younger soldiers hadn’t ever had to fight the people they were supposed to be rescuing. Remington understood, but he faulted them all the same.
Without another word, Remington walked over to the group. The soldiers stepped away. The big man leading them smiled and looked at Remington.
“Now this is more like it,” the big man said.
Remington stopped ten feet from the man, well out of range of an easy grab. “Sir, I’m asking you one more time to vacate these premises. This is a very sensitive area.”
The man scowled. “You’re supposed to save us.”
“You were told to leave days ago,” Remington said. “Leave this room. I’m no longer asking you. This city is under martial law, and I’m the law.”
“I want a plane,” the big man said. “I know you can make that happen.”
Rage hammered Remington’s temples. He wasn’t going to brook insubordination, and something like this could undermine his authority.
Smoothly, without warning, he drew his sidearm and took immediate aim at the man. The man stood his ground, jaw thrust out defiantly. Dispassionately, Remington shot the man in his left thigh, aiming for the thick meat of the outer thigh so he wouldn’t accidently nick the femoral artery and kill him.
The pistol report cracked loudly inside the building. All the techs, and even the security men, stepped back as the man dropped to the floor. Shock twisted his face and pulled his mouth into a gaping O of surprise.
“You can’t-,” one of the civilians started to say.
Remington pointed the pistol at that man, putting an instant halt to the objection. The man threw his hands up in front of his face and turned away.
“Anybody else want to make any demands?” Remington asked calmly.
No one responded.
Remington didn’t put his pistol away, but he did drop it to his side. “We’re in desperate straits here. The army is doing the best that it can. You will not interfere with the command post again.” He flicked his glance to the security teams. “I don’t want to have to shoot another civilian to enforce something you should already be doing. If I do, you’ll be in lockdown. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” one of the men responded. The others quickly nodded.
The wounded man wrapped both hands around his bleeding leg.
“Get this man to medical,” Remington said. “Have them patch him up.” He glanced at the man writhing on the floor. “Once they’re done with you, if you feel like walking out of the city, be my guest.” He waved to the security team.
Quickly the soldiers herded the civilians out of the building. They carried the wounded man.
Remington glanced around the room. Every eye was fixed on him. The OneWorld NewsNet team shot footage. Remington idly wondered when they’d started filming and suspected it had been from the beginning.
“We’re facing a crisis,” Remington stated. “I’m not going to settle for saving a handful of people. I’m going to save us all. And no one is going to prevent me from doing that.”
He said that as forcefully and believably as he could, but he knew he wasn’t the only one in the room who wasn’t convinced he was able to deliver on that promise.
36
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 0723
“Mrs. Gander?”
Megan looked up from the yellow legal pad she worked on. A young corporal stood at Major Thomas Francher’s door and regarded her expectantly.
“I’m Mrs. Gander.”
The corporal looked a little bleary-eyed, but he smiled all the same. “Yes, ma’am. I figured that you were.”
When Megan looked around, she discovered that she was still the only one in the waiting room. She’d wanted to get here first thing to ensure she would be able to meet with Major Francher, the base commander’s right-hand man. Her time while waiting had been divided between the small television in the corner and the legal pad.
FOX News continued to carry coverage of the attack on Sanliurfa, but other breaking news stories occupied the screen as well. Paranoia over the disappearances still raged and caused riots as well as individual problems.
One of the main stories that had shocked Megan to her core involved the burning of a church in Atlanta. A crowd had objected to the pastor’s delivery of a message about the Tribulation, and they’d burned the church to the ground. Thankfully no serious injuries had come of it.
Everyone remained afraid and uncertain, though many people simply tried to bury themselves in their lives as if nothing had happened. They went back to jobs and routines. Megan had seen similar instances at the post. In the end, that wasn’t going to work. Denial never kept bad things from happening.
Megan stood, smoothed her dress, and shoved the legal pad into her tote. She followed the corporal into the major’s office.
“Ah, Mrs. Gander.” Major Francher was a big man and had put on a few extra pounds since drawing the desk assignment, but he appeared dedicated and alert. The fact that he was at his desk before seven thirty said a lot. He waved her to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Please. Have a seat.”
The office definitely belonged to a man. Pictures of past postings, of children involved in sporting activities, and of Francher fishing hung on the walls. Manuals filled the bookshelves, but there were a few paperback thrillers as well.
Megan sat and put her tote beside the chair. “You’re working early today, Major.”
Francher sat and smiled. “I think a lot of us are. I know from several people that you’re burning the candle at both ends these days.”
“And maybe
in the middle as well.”
Francher’s smile broadened. “I’d agree with that assessment.” He spread his hands. “So what brings you to me?”
“They tell me that your office is the shortest route to the base commander’s ear.”
Francher leaned back in his chair and looked wary. “Sometimes, I suppose,” he admitted. “Depends on the subject matter.”
“The subject matter,” Megan said, making her voice strong and trying not to think about Goose facing down the Syrian army along with so many other men whose children and families she knew, “is the Ranger unit over in Sanliurfa.”
Francher sighed, and his shoulders bowed slightly. “That’s a tough situation. If you came here to ask us what we’re doing to help those soldiers, we’re doing everything humanly possible.”
“I believe you.”
“It’s just that we’re spread so thin over there now, and there are a lot of problem areas. I don’t have to tell you that a number of countries blame the United States for the disappearances because we’re the last superpower remaining and because we’re known for pushing science when it comes to developing superweapons.”
“No, you don’t,” Megan agreed. “The situation around the globe is complicated. I understand that.”
A puzzled expression filled Francher’s face. “Okay, you’ve stymied me. Maybe I’m more tired than I thought, because I have no clue what you’re here to talk about.”
Megan considered how to lay out what she’d come to say. Deciding how best to do that had consumed her thoughts, and she was nervous that she still didn’t know. Just put it out there. This is in God’s hands. Let Him do the heavy work.
She cleared her throat and began. “I’ve been in discussions with some of the other base wives, Major, and several of us are in agreement about this matter.”
Francher grinned hesitantly. “Sounds potentially scary already. With everything going on, there aren’t a lot of people agreeing with anybody about anything.”
Megan had thought about the ways she could present what she wanted to say. Different approaches existed, but none of them seemed any less troublesome or more honest than the naked truth. “Those Rangers in Turkey need help,” Megan said. Start with the undeniable facts. Keep him in safe territory. “They need support staff. Medical assistance.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but finding people to pick up those duties-”
“You don’t have to find those people,” Megan stated quietly. “We’re already here.”
The major frowned. “I’m not quite following what you’re suggesting.”
“Several of the wives, husbands, and families want to go over there,” Megan said. “To Turkey. To Sanliurfa if possible. As close as you can get us. We want to be with our soldiers. We want to help them survive what’s going on over there so we can get them home.”
Francher leaned back in his chair. He took in a deep breath of air and let it out. Then he flicked his gaze to the ceiling for a moment more before looking back at Megan. “You’re suggesting that the United States Army send civilians into a war zone?”
“Civilians have worked in war zones before,” Megan said. “Volunteers as well as employees. The military remains one of the highest employers of civilians in this country.”
“Those people work on defensible posts, bases, and camps. Not on the battlefield.”
“You’ve got an untapped workforce here at Fort Benning,” Megan said. “Some of the wives and husbands of those soldiers are medical personnel. Some of them have been in the military before. As soldiers. Others are clerks, mechanics, food-service employees, and a dozen other things that the army-and those Rangers-need.”
“No one’s going to just draft those people-”
“You don’t have to draft anyone,” Megan said. “We want to volunteer.” Francher was quiet. “What you’re suggesting is impossible.”
“I disagree.”
“Mrs. Gander-”
Megan cut him off and made her voice harder, more crisp. “Major, right now you’re talking to me. I’m one soldier’s wife. If I go back to the people I’ve been talking to and tell them that you stonewalled me, your office is going to be flooded with people by lunchtime. Do you want that?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. They wanted to come with me. I got them to let me talk to you first. This way you can have a discussion, not an invasion.”
Francher looked slightly overwhelmed. “I appreciate that.”
“Please forgive me for being so blunt, but I need to take back more than your appreciation to them. They’ll want something more concrete.”
“Don’t they realize how dangerous what you’re’re suggesting is?”
“Of course they do. But they believe they’re potentially in as much danger here. And we want to be with our soldiers. With the way things are, no one can be certain we’ll see those soldiers again.” Megan’s voice broke. “Especially not after everything that’s been going on over there yesterday and today.”
“Even if we could put this together, those soldiers…” Francher hesitated. “Well, to be brutally honest, they may not be anywhere we can help them.”
“We’re prepared to grieve, Major,” Megan said. “But we’re also prepared to do something to help those men. We expect the military-we expect this fort-to do something about that. About helping us help them.”
Francher was silent.
“We’re not going to go away,” Megan said. She kept thinking about the footage she’d seen of Goose and Sanliurfa. The need to be over there with Goose and the other soldiers grew stronger with each passing minute. “For the moment, the others have agreed to let me represent them. But if no one listens to me, they’re going to become louder. They’ll keep getting louder until someone listens.”
“But-”
Megan cut him off. “People believe the end of the world is at hand, and they want to be united as families. If it can’t happen here, then they want it to happen there.”
The major sat silent for a moment. “The end of the world.” Those words obviously didn’t come easily to him.
“Yes. It sounds silly when you say it aloud, but there’s no other description that fits. I don’t know what kind of faith you have, or how strong it is, but surely you can feel what’s going on.”
Francher nodded. “I don’t doubt you, Mrs. Gander. I heard about what happened that day in court. I can guarantee you’ve made believers of a lot of people.”
Some of the army chaplains who had opposed her had taken leaves of absence. They’d seen the video footage of Gerry Fletcher disappearing in midair. The story had been told and retold throughout the fort.
“It wasn’t me, Major. God made believers out of those people.”
Francher nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I suppose He did.” He took in a quiet breath and let it out. “I have to be honest with you. Since I heard about that, I’ve been making sure I spend a little more time with my Bible. I make sure my wife and kids do too.” He grimaced. “None of them disappeared. My kids are all older. I don’t know whether to feel relieved that we didn’t lose anyone or scared because we might not all be together… later.”
“If you’re thinking like that, if you turn to God, you won’t have anything to worry about.” Megan knew how much her own perspectives had changed since she’d asked God to come into her life.
“I’m working on believing that. As far as your request goes-”
“We’re being polite,” Megan insisted. “If we wanted to, we could simply book a flight over there. Several of the people I’m talking to want to do that now. I’ve asked them to wait.”
“Why?”
“Because if we’re going to help those soldiers, this needs to be an organized movement. We need supplies and equipment. We need to help them, not become additional worries for them.”
Francher rubbed his stubbled jaw, and his rough palm made a rasping sound. “Mrs. Gander, I appreciate what you-and these other people-are offerin
g, but I don’t think you see the danger you’re suggesting the U.S. Army help bring you into.”
“I do see. So do they. We believe in what we want to do, Major. Very much. Like I said, either the army can help coordinate our arrival over there-and provide us meaningful ways to help our soldiers-or we’re going over there on our own. Either way, we’re not going to stay here when they need us there.”
“The fort also needs many of those people here,” Francher pointed out. “Those support positions you’re wanting to fill over there? Many of them exist here. Stripping this fort of valuable personnel isn’t the answer.”
“We’ll go over in waves,” Megan said. “We’ll train our replacements. The economy’s restructuring. There are people who have lost jobs and now need work.”
“The work you’re doing with the kids on this base is invaluable. If that stopped-”
“It’s not going to stop,” Megan interrupted. “We’re going to transition. Like I said, we’ve talked among ourselves. We know our responsibilities there-and here. We’re not willing to walk away from either.” She paused. “But mark my words, Major. We’re going to go. One way or another, we’re going to go.”
Francher eyed Megan levelly. “I believe you will, Mrs. Gander. I believe you will.”
37
Downtown Sanliurfa
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 1408 Hours
Alexander Cody sat in the bar of the American Hotel and drank while he watched the television intermittently flash on and off as the signal was interrupted. A few other people sat somberly at the tables and booths, surrounded by pictures of sports and entertainment stars that seemed a lifetime removed from the world they all currently inhabited.
Danielle felt strange spying on Cody, knowing that he was watching a news story that covered their current situation. It was all surreal.
She thought she recognized one of the patrons as a soldier who usually hovered around Remington, but she couldn’t be sure because he was in street clothes. The haircut fit, though. And he watched her as she approached Cody.
