Karen sighed. “Oh Jesus.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Karen’s body went limp and she fell backward to the floor, no longer having the strength to hold herself up. Her mouth fell open and she began to cough uncontrollably. Jason knelt beside her and propped her head up on his arm. His other hand went instinctively to her head again as he began to rub Karen’s temples and stroke through the tangles in her hair.
“I’m dead now, aren’t I?” she pondered. “I’m as good as dead.”
“Baby, I don’t know the answer to that,” Jason replied. “I honestly just don’t know.” He paused. “I’d do more, but my hands are almost as tied as yours are right now.”
“I don’t want to die like this, Jason,” Karen appealed. “I can’t just die like this!”
Tears fell from Jason’s eyes. “It kills me to see you like this, Karen,” he said. “And I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. God—I’ve been so worried about you. I wanted to come sooner, but I didn’t want anyone to suspect anything.”
Karen nodded but said nothing. Jason pulled another bottle of water from his other hip pocket and twisted off the top. He helped her to turn her head and then poured the water into her mouth while she took shallow gulps. Once finished, she smiled slightly. She was broken and in pain, but she was loving every minute of the attention he was giving her.
“You said they’re not bringing you food or water anymore?” he asked.
“They were, but for some reason, they stopped.”
“I’ll see what I can do about that,” Jason said.
“Can I keep the blanket?”
“Of course.”
Jason maneuvered the blanket around her as she lethargically snuggled into it.
“Listen, I’m going to try my damnedest to get you out of here. In the meantime, I’ll visit as often as I can, but I can’t make it look too obvious. I should go. I don’t want to leave you here, but I don’t have any other choice right now.”
“I understand,” Karen said. “Go. Just go, then.”
Chapter 8
“I shall earnestly and persistently continue to urge all women to the practical recognition of the old Revolutionary maxim. Resistance to tyranny is obedience to God.”
—Susan B. Anthony
FEMA Resettlement Camp Bravo
Woodstock, Virginia
Wednesday, August 4th (Several months earlier)
“You know what to do, Faith.” Her husband’s voice echoed over and over inside her mind, repeating itself incessantly like a broken record. It had been that way since the last time she’d seen him—which Faith now assumed would most likely be the last time she’d ever see him—at least, in this lifetime.
Faith lay silent and still in her bed. She’d remained virtually motionless for several hours, her eyes fixated on the dulling paint on the ceiling, her heart fixated on the last words she’d heard her husband repeat to her. You know what to do. What did it mean? It was a message to her. He’d been encouraging her to do something, but for the life of her, she didn’t know what it was. She needed time to figure it out, and that was just fine with her. All Faith had now was time.
When Faith wasn’t passing the time trying to decipher her husband’s words, she did the only other thing she knew would be of some comfort to her. She passed the seconds, minutes, and long hours immersed in prayer. Her husband’s fate was unknown. The fate of Karen Mitchell, who’d been her only other advocate since being taken to the camp, was a question mark. Her own fate had yet to manifest itself, and after what she’d done, she assumed the consequences in this place would be harsh. The only things that Faith knew, and therefore confided in, was that God had never forsaken her and that prayer had always made her feel better. She prayed for Sam, and she prayed for Karen. She even prayed for herself on occasion. It was all she could do.
Sam’s words constantly haunted her. Was the DHS really exterminating those proving disloyal to their cause? Were they purging the remaining populous of patriots, conservatives, constitutionalists, and the self-reliant? How long would it be before they began targeting religions? How long would it be before all religions and ideologies were subject to discrimination? There was no way that this was really happening in America—in her America, she thought. But it was. If Sam said it was happening, it was a certainty. This was tyranny, and it was occurring in the same America that had fought for its own independence against that very concept nearly two and a half centuries ago.
Her husband had his faults, but Faith had to admit, it was a rare occasion when he’d been wrong about something. Sam was an interminable seeker of information. He’d always been addicted to knowledge and getting to the bottom of things. He’d always used a multitude of sources—news outlets, books, magazine and newspaper articles, and the now nonexistent Internet—to completely research topics that keenly interested him to beyond the point of exhaustion. He prided himself on being able to speak intelligently on just about anything. If Sam didn’t know enough about something that piqued his interest, he’d spend days, even weeks learning what was necessary to achieve an exceptional level of comprehension. That was just his way. And it was among the many things that she loved about him.
Faith was in familiar surroundings. She’d been relocated back into her old room in women’s detention, which hadn’t yet been reassigned to anyone. Since being brought here, her emotions had been an out-of-control roller coaster. She had allowed sorrow, anger, depression, doubt, and a host of other negative emotions to cloud her mind. It normally wasn’t in her character to feel such ways, but it couldn’t be helped. Her sorrow couldn’t be suppressed and her anger couldn’t be abated.
In her last conversation with her husband, he’d all but resigned himself to his fate and expected her to do the same for him. Due to his religious and political affiliations, for both of which he was tremendously outspoken, and the fact that he’d refused to obey the mandates set forth by martial law, Sam knew that he and others like him were destined to be systematically euthanized. He’d known it ever since first setting foot inside the camp.
Faith couldn’t help but wonder…was she next? She didn’t want to believe it, but she had to admit to herself that in this new world, in these tremendously uncertain times, it was completely conceivable. Their captors were not the helpful benefactors that they pretended to be. The America that she’d known—that her family had known—had fallen. And with nothing in the way to stop it, this new reality seemed destined to become the future of the country. The fundamental changes had been planted, fertilized, and were growing well now. It would take an act of God to uproot them.
A sudden, loud banging on the door to her room startled her, but Faith didn’t move from her position on the bed. She remained motionless.
“Inmate 0710, on your feet. Turn and face the wall, please,” a man’s voice said from outside the door.
Faith didn’t respond. She heard the man’s words loud and clear, but had no intention of complying.
A moment later, the voice repeated the order.
“Inmate 0710, stand up, please! Turn and face the wall!” the voice thundered.
Faith simply lay there as if she were comatose. She’d always complied with their orders before—often urgently. This was the first time she’d disobeyed them. Would they come in and subdue her by force? Would they beat her? Harm her in some way? She decided that she didn’t care what they did. Faith was convinced that there wasn’t anything her captors could do to her that could cause her more anguish than what she’d been living with since last seeing Sam. She still didn’t move.
“Suit yourself. We’re coming in!”
The door burst open and two burly guards ran in with their batons in hand, ready for a fight, but didn’t get what they were expecting once inside. They turned to each other, confused.
“Is she dead?” the first guard said with an eyebrow lifted.
“Hell if I know,” the other responded. “Inmate, are you dead?”
“You’re an idiot,” the first jeered. “Inmate, can you hear us?”
At first, Faith just lay there like a slug. Then, she nodded her head in the affirmative and blinked her eyes a few times.
“Okay—we’re going to need you to stand up, please.”
Faith didn’t want the situation to escalate, but she also didn’t have any intention of making this easy on them. She was done with easy. She was done with being compliant. It was time to stand her ground. It seemed pedantic, like a child defying his parents while being told to keep his or her elbows off the table. Sometimes, small and seemingly frivolous efforts were stepping-stones to larger, more formidable ones. Let’s see how this plays out, she thought.
“Would one of you kind gentlemen be able to help me up?” Faith asked with a smile. “My joints are a little stiff.”
“Ma’am, we’re not allowed to do that,” the first guard said.
“I’d appreciate very much if you could make an exception this time,” Faith requested. “My back isn’t as strong as it used to be. I promise I have no intention of causing you any trouble.”
The first guard looked at his colleague and shrugged and received a blank stare in return.
“Oh, the hell with it.” He approached Faith and gently helped her to her feet.
Faith sighed and then thanked the guard with a smile.
“Can I ask you gentlemen what this is about?” she asked graciously.
“We’re here to escort you downstairs, ma’am,” the second guard said. “At the request of Chief Carter.”
“Chief Carter? Is Chief Mitchell no longer here?”
Neither responded to Faith’s question. The first guard stepped behind her and placed a set of zip cuffs onto her wrists and tightened them. The guards then led Faith from her room, down the corridor and into the elevator. When the ride downward was completed, they exited the elevator at the lobby level. A tall, skinny, female guard stood just outside. Faith noticed that her uniform was almost identical to the one that Karen Mitchell had been wearing the last time she’d seen her.
“Nice to see you decided to come quietly, Mrs. Gallo,” the skinny woman said with a high-pitched but delicate voice that carried a Southern accent. “I’m Beatrice Carter, CCO.” She paused and, after a few seconds of looking Faith over, turned her attention to the guards. “This lady didn’t give y’all any trouble, did she?”
“No, ma’am,” the first guard blurted out.
“Uh, we had to help her off her bed,” the second guard followed hesitantly.
“Oh?” Chief Carter asked. “Are we not feeling well, Mrs. Gallo? Or was that an act of…civil disobedience?”
Faith stood motionless and did nothing at first but exhibit a contented smile. It was truly ironic to her that Chief Carter had chosen the phrase.
“Young lady, you just jarred my memory. That’s one of my favorite dissertations. Have you ever read it?” Faith quizzed.
“Excuse me?” asked Chief Carter, her expression standoffish.
“Civil Disobedience,” Faith replied. “The narrative…by Henry David Thoreau. Certainly you’ve heard of it. Or perhaps him?”
Chief Carter scowled. “I don’t believe I’ve been allowed the pleasure,” she declared. She nodded to the guards and they escorted Faith into an office not far away. Beatrice took a seat at the desk and Faith was offered a chair. She refused at first, preferring to stand, but Chief Carter insisted. Faith took her time, but eventually acquiesced.
“Now, I’m going to make this conversation brief,” the chief said. “I don’t have any room for you here, Mrs. Gallo. There’s a few minor stipulations we’ll discuss, but aside from that, I’m here to inform you that you’re being sent back to senior quarters.”
“Again?”
“Yes. Again. Is that a problem?”
Faith shook her head. Chief Carter grinned and pulled out a soft pack of long, thin cigarettes. She pulled one out and let it balance for a few seconds on her lip before lighting it.
“It is the conclusion of my superiors that you were in the wrong place at the outright wrong time. They’ve decided not to charge you with a crime…for now, and with that, forgo any further punishment, provided you keep your nose clean. Does that sound acceptable to you?”
Faith sat back in her seat as her sore lower back began to register a numbing pain. With her hands bound behind her, it wasn’t easy for her to get comfortable. Questions began to rattle off in her mind. What happened to Sam? Where’s Karen Mitchell? She wanted to know a lot of things, but decided it best to play her hand smartly.
“Ms. Carter—”
“Missus,” corrected Chief Carter. She took a long drag from her cigarette, held up her left hand, and thumbed a moderately tarnished gold wedding band.
“My apologies. Mrs. Carter,” Faith said, “I never intended to be a thorn in anyone’s side. It’s not in my character, and I’m sorry if I caused you or anyone else any trouble. If you could convey that, along with my thanks and appreciation to your superiors, I’d be indebted.”
Chief Carter smirked and nodded, then flicked some ashes into the glass ashtray on her desk. “I have a facility full of outlaws here, Mrs. Gallo. Murderers. Thieves. Persons caught in possession of illegal contraband…I mean, we’re talking very unscrupulous people,” she said. With her free hand, she opened a file folder and began flipping through the papers inside it. “You, ma’am, from what I’ve seen and read…are perceived to be none of those things—at least as of this moment.”
“Will I get my old room back in senior quarters?”
“No, ma’am,” explained Chief Carter. “I’m sorry to say it won’t be. That’s one of the stipulations I mentioned. You will also be reassigned to a different work detail. That’s the other stipulation.”
“Different?”
“Yes, ma’am. Something supervised with a little less…freedom of movement.”
“I see,” Faith said, and began contemplating her next move while Chief Carter smoked her cigarette and toyed with her fingernails. She could hear Sam’s voice begin to echo his final words to her again—and just then, she heard him mention something else to her.
“Mrs. Carter, would it be possible to request one specifically?” Faith asked.
“Request one what?”
“Sorry…a work detail.”
Chief Carter flicked her cigarette. Her eyebrows lifted, adding to her already resolute look of indifference. “Did you have something in mind, Mrs. Gallo?”
Faith nodded, her eyebrows raised. “I did, actually. In fact, it just came to me.”
“And that is?”
“The chapel.”
“Chapel? Oh, you mean the little church thing they do on Sunday mornings, right?” inquired Chief Carter.
“Yes, that’s it,” Faith confirmed with a gracious nod. “I have a lot of experience in the ministry. I was an associate pastor at my church before—well, before.”
“Hmm,” Chief Carter uttered. Her Southern drawl had become stronger as the conversation carried on. She used her lips to grip her cigarette and reached for a bound notebook to her right, then began thumbing through the pages. When she found the page she was looking for, she folded the notebook in half. “It’s rather unconventional…but I think it might actually work out,” she said. “Pastor Wigfield would probably appreciate the help. He’s not getting any younger…poor thing has been with FEMA for over forty years. He should’ve retired a couple of years ago but, well, extenuating circumstances prevented it.”
Faith’s heart filled with anticipation and a feeling of satisfaction overtook her. This was it, she thought. This had to be the first step of what she was supposed to do. What she was feeling left her with little doubt. She was smiling inside—almost glowing, but did her best to conceal her joy.
“We’ll make the arrangements, then,” Chief Carter said as she placed the notebook back onto her desk. She pulled the cigarette from her mouth and set it in the ashtray, then motioned for the guards to
return. “Now, Mrs. Gallo…I don’t want to hear about any more trouble on your part. I hereby advise you—you are to keep your nose clean. I don’t have to tell you what’s at stake.”
Faith nodded and stood. One of the guards began removing her cuffs. “Consider me so informed,” she said. “I do have one question though, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Carter.”
“Yes…what is it?”
“What’s become of Karen Mitchell?”
Beatrice Carter rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, an indignant look on her face. “Mrs. Gallo, asking questions like that…well, isn’t the best way to begin your path to righteousness,” she said. She snapped her fingers, motioning to the guards. “Get her out of here, please.”
Faith’s ride from women’s detention back to senior quarters was uneventful, and the guards escorted her back into the building in a monotonous, terse manner. Once at the front desk, she recognized Officer Hewlett immediately. It looked as though she hadn’t moved a single inch since the last time Faith had seen her.
“Back again, huh?” Officer Hewlett said brashly as she fumbled through her paperwork.
“It would appear so,” Faith replied.
Another familiar face appeared from a door behind the front desk. Faith recognized him as Officer Brown.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Gallo,” he said. “How’ve you been?”
“I’ve had better days.”
Officer Brown nodded and grinned. “We’ve all had better days.”
“Mike, here’s her room assignment,” Officer Hewlett said as she hurriedly handed a clipboard to him.
After glancing at the papers, Officer Brown said, “Looks like you’ve been relocated, Mrs. Gallo. Room B8. Your personal items have already been sent there—do you need me to show you the way, or—”
This We Will Defend [Book 2] Page 13
