This We Will Defend [Book 2]

by C. A. Rudolph

  Sasha sighed—almost growled at the remark. She swiftly turned her body around to face the young man, who moved the flashlight’s beam back to her face. She shielded her eyes with her hand, unable to see anything but the bright light in front of her.

  “What the hell? Lady, are you trying to get shot?”

  “Look, kid, just listen to me…for thirty damn seconds, okay?” begged Sasha. “You—and the people who live in the valley below here—are going to be attacked tomorrow and I came here to warn you. That’s all.”

  The flashlight beam soon found its way to the road and out of Sasha’s eyes. As her pupils began to contract, the figure in front of her started to take shape. The young man appeared to be in his early twenties. He was covered in camouflage clothing and face paint and had a large-caliber handgun pointed at her.

  He frowned at her and his eyebrows lowered in interest. “What are you talking about? Attacked by who? Who are you?”

  Sasha sighed and droned, “I’m just someone who’s trying to do something right for a change.”

  “But you’re one of those bikers,” the young man said. “You were with them the other day. Why should I trust what you say?”

  “Yes. I’m one of them,” continued Sasha. She then began providing as many details about Damien’s plan as she could to the young man standing before her, including how many to expect and what time to expect them, the weapons they planned to use and what their preferred tactics typically were.

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’ve been made aware of the plan by my husband. He’s in a…position of authority in the club. And tomorrow I’m going to be with them,” Sasha said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because there’s no way I can’t be. Because if I betray them, they’ll kill me. Because there’s always been just one way out of this for me. If they knew that I came here tonight, they’d tie me to a truck and drag me to death.” Sasha paused and reached for a pack of cigarettes in her jacket. “Hell, there’s still a chance of that happening when I get back tonight.”

  The young man’s look changed to one of grave concern. “Look, we appreciate the information—more than you know. But I don’t know what you expect in return,” he said. “If you roll in with them, there’s no way we can guarantee you won’t be killed.”

  Sasha nodded. “Oh, I understand that,” she said grimly, lighting up a cigarette. “I’ve been in way over my head, caught up in this game way past my expiration date. I’ve always known that no matter what, the only way to be completely out was to wind up dead somehow.” She took a deep drag and blew the smoke out into the night air. “But this time, I couldn’t let it go without doing at least one thing right.”

  “I’ll forward along your info to the people that need to know,” the young man said. “And for what it’s worth, thank you…”

  “Sasha.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Sasha,” he said, and then hesitated a moment. “I’m…Mark, by the way. I guess there’s no harm in telling you that.”

  Sasha blew out another cloud of smoke and then smiled. “I hope you kill them, Mark. I hope you kill every last one of the fuckers. Wipe them off the map. Make them extinct. Because if you don’t, they’ll keep doing horrible things, and there’ll be no hope for anyone anymore—especially for people like me.” Holding the cigarette between her fingers, she pointed it at Mark. “I do have one small request, though…if you and your people do manage to pull it off.”

  The young man sidestepped and brought his pistol closer to his chest when he noticed Sasha make a move for her back pocket. When her hand came back into view, she was holding a map. She presented it to him and he reluctantly took it from her.

  “What’s this?”

  “There’s a neighborhood just outside of Edinburg circled on that map,” Sasha began. “There’s some young girls there in a couple of the larger houses near a cul-de-sac. They usually keep them locked up in a room in the basement. They were taken from their families. Some of them will probably need some sort of medical attention. My associates used them as their…well, use your imagination.”

  Mark unfolded the map and looked it over.

  Sasha continued. “I know it’s a lot to ask right now, especially after all I’ve told you and what you know is coming. And for all you know, it’s probably some sort of trap and that’s my only purpose for showing my face here tonight. But you must believe me, Mark—please believe me. They need help. Please, try to help them if you can. I’d do it myself, but—”

  Mark gave Sasha a stern look. “After we get done wiping your friends off the map, I promise you we’ll look into it.”

  Sasha smiled. She dropped the remaining portion of her cigarette on the ground and reached forward to give Mark a hug. He moved back defensively at first, but eventually allowed it to happen.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Chapter 22

  Royal Harbor Religious Facility

  FEMA Resettlement Camp Bravo

  Woodstock, Virginia

  Wednesday, October 20th (Present day)

  Chief Correctional Officer Beatrice Carter leaned silently against the cold, painted concrete block wall in the rear of the room. Her arms were crossed and an irritable, incredulous look dwelled on her face. She listened intently, her ears fixated on every word that the distinguished older woman spoke while standing at the pulpit at the front of the room. Beatrice’s eyes scrutinized each member of the congregation before her—paying special attention as they reacted to what was being said by the speaker. She didn’t know what to fully make of what she was seeing and hearing, but it was obvious to her that there was much more to it than what was displayed on the surface.

  Since the previous summer, the congregation of Pastor Wigfield’s church had grown exponentially in numbers. What was once a rather small group of parishioners had grown into a mass of nearly two hundred. In addition to the increase of attendance, the impending cooler weather brought forth the need for the camp pastor to relocate his operations from its usual outdoor gathering location into an enclosed building. What was once the Royal Harbor Assisted Care Facility had been repurposed into a chapel and an office to serve as a base of operations for Pastor Wigfield’s ministry.

  Church services were now being offered on Wednesdays in addition to their normal Sunday service and were held in the old cafeteria. It was the only room with enough real estate to accommodate the increasing numbers of the congregation. The tables that had once filled the room had been moved out to make space for hundreds of chairs that were now set up in two long, narrow columns.

  The aisle that ran the length between the columns of chairs to the front of the room gave Beatrice a grand view of the pulpit, where Faith Gallo was now standing. She had preached an amazingly uplifting sermon to those in attendance today and was nearing the final portions. Pastor Wigfield was seated beside and just behind the pulpit, a magnificent smile pasted on his countenance. He was one of Beatrice’s coworkers, but she couldn’t help but feel suspicious of him after what she’d been witnessing.

  Faith’s smile held the entire time she thundered her message to the men, women, and children in front of her, most of whom were on their feet now. Over and over, she received rounds of applause and cheers of ‘Hallelujah!’ and ‘Praise God!’ Using the simple gesture of holding up a hand, she silenced the people and, in turn, had them bow their heads in prayer.

  When the prayer ended, Faith said, “And here’s the verse I want each of you to take with you as you leave today.” She paused, almost melodramatically. “The book of Jeremiah, chapter twenty-nine, verses eleven through fourteen. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the LORD, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I
have driven you, declares the LORD, and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.”

  After shaking hands with the much-overjoyed pastor beside her and taking her leave of him, Faith descended into the crowd amidst a reception of mixed cheers and applause. She received handshakes and hugs from many of those in attendance. As she made her way to the rear of the room, she noticed that Beatrice Carter was no longer standing where she’d been during the entire service. Faith had noticed that Beatrice had been attending the services more regularly and had a feeling that it wasn’t because the young CCO had decided to find religion. Something else was up her sleeve.

  When Faith moved to the exit, a young, masculine-looking woman with short hair approached her.

  “Hey, lady,” the woman said gruffly. “Remember me?”

  Faith’s face contorted. “I’m afraid I’m not sure…”

  “It’s me, silly…your old bunk mate,” the woman said. “Kat. You know…Kitty-kat.”

  Now reintroduced, Faith’s mind began putting two and two together. This was the young woman who’d introduced herself to Faith rather informally as a lesbian within Faith’s first few minutes of being relocated in senior quarters.

  Faith smiled graciously. “Yes—yes. I do remember you. Katherine, isn’t it?”

  “You got it. But I told you…you can call me Kat.”

  “Okay. Well, it’s very good to see you again, Kat.”

  “Yeah, you too. Hey, listen, I don’t want to take up too much of your time—I know you’re a real busy lady now and all. But I gotta tell you, I really like what you’re doing. You speak some real shit. I mean, real shit.”

  “Thank you, I suppose,” Faith said welcomingly, unsure of any other way to respond. She changed her tone to a whisper. “But you might consider toning down your language. I know it doesn’t look like much, but we’re in the Lord’s house.”

  Kat stomped her foot. “Damn…I mean…darn. I’m still working on that. Sorry.”

  Faith smiled. “Is this your first time here?”

  Kat shook her head. “No…it’s like my third or fourth time,” she said. “It felt real weird at first. But I gotta tell you, I’m really starting to like it. The people here are nicer than I expected.”

  “I’m very pleased to hear that, Kat.”

  “I’ve never been much for…well, this whole God thing. But I’m really starting to dig it now. I never thought I’d be allowed to be involved with a church before. I didn’t think they, well—served my kind, if you know what I mean.”

  Faith crossed her arms over top of the dog-eared Bible she’d been provided by Pastor Wigfield a few months before, not long after she’d met him. Until recently, she’d never had a chance to understand or compare the differences between the younger generations and her own. She’d never had a reason to do it before. Faith had always been able to choose the people that she surrounded herself with. She’d always preferred to associate with persons of a more sophisticated class—social conservatives, the economically successful, protestants, and of course, heterosexuals—like her parents had always done before her. Until now, she’d never been exposed to other social paradigms before and, as such, never made any effort to understand them. Her current predicament in a post-collapse society had caused her to change her way of thinking and instilled within her a new level of acceptance.

  “We are all God’s children, Katherine,” Faith said. “We’re all brothers and sisters—we weren’t put on this earth to judge one another. His word and His promise of eternal life is for all of us, no matter how we classify ourselves.”

  Kat began to both nod and shake her head. “There you go again! Like I said…you speak some real shh…stuff.”

  “I’ll confess to you, Katherine…there was a time when I believed staunchly that…well…that being attracted to one’s own sex was an unforgivable sin.”

  Kat’s expression went flat and she nodded in recognition, but didn’t respond.

  “I know now though that I was wrong,” Faith said despondently. She put her hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “While I personally can’t comprehend your romantic attractions or choice of lifestyle, that gives me no right whatsoever to judge you or them. And I am sorry—truly sorry if I judged you unfairly.”

  Kat’s expression softened and she smiled. “It’s no sweat,” she said. “I used to think old Bible-thumping church ladies were kinda weird. But I’m coming around.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Faith said.

  “Oh, by the way…I wanted to give you this.”

  As her hand lifted, Kat produced Faith’s long-lost Bible. The one she’d brought with her and had kept for a while after being confined at the camp. The one she’d taken when she’d been transferred for the first time to senior quarters. The one she’d subsequently lost in the mess of events that followed. Faith took the Bible from Kat and looked it over. She opened the cover and thumbed through the silky pages on which she’d highlighted hundreds of verses.

  “I wanted to give it to you at last week’s service, but the entire friggin’ camp was locked down for whatever reason,” Kat explained.

  Faith smiled gratifyingly. She closed the Bible and then handed it back to the young woman before her. Kat took it with a look of uncertainty.

  “Kat,” Faith said, “this Bible…belongs to you now.”

  Chapter 23

  Southern Annex Area E

  FEMA Resettlement Camp Bravo

  Woodstock, Virginia

  Wednesday, October 20th (Present day)

  Muffled noises that mostly consisted of screams emanated through the concrete block exterior of the building known as Area E, but they didn’t last long. Regardless of the time it took for the cries to dissipate into relative silence, DHS Special Agent in Charge August Carter couldn’t bear to listen to them. They consistently haunted him for days—even weeks—after and were the primary catalyst of the nightmares that plagued him each time his head met the pillow. He’d used earplugs, earmuffs, and a combination of both—and had even tried simply placing his hands over his shemagh-covered ears during the procedures to smother the sounds. Nothing he tried seemed to work.

  August had been a Homeland Security Investigations special agent for several years before the collapse and, at one time, had been placed in charge of training for the Immigration and Customs Enforcement DRO, or Detention and Removal Operations, for the region. He’d spent most of his tenure capturing and removing or deporting illegal immigrants and training department methods and procedures to other future ICE DRO agents. He’d spent his career honorably serving the United States federal government and had been a recipient of many commendations over the years for exemplary work. Now, as the SAIC, or special agent in charge, for the Southern Annex at FEMA Resettlement Camp Bravo, his responsibilities encapsulated a completely different type of removal, for which there was no known accolade.

  Executive orders enacted under the umbrella of martial law had authorized the use of deadly force against enemies of the state, and the humane termination program that August had been placed in command of performed procedures on a weekly and sometimes case-by-case basis. Any individual inside or outside the FEMA camp’s confines that was labeled a disruptive element—protestors, dissenters, political or religious extremists, or any other type of agitator—was denied their right to trial by a jury of their peers and delivered to the Southern Annex for what was sometimes referred to as ‘the final walk’.

  Depending on the circumstances, procedures would sometimes be carried out immediately and prisoners were dispatched either by firing squad or execution-style with a single bullet to the back of the head at point-blank range. If the prisoner wasn’t lucky enough to have his or her sentence carried out expeditiously, he or she would spend his or her final days confined inside one of a group of conexes referred to colloquially as ‘purgatory’. When the time came, the malefactors would be blindfolded and marched at gunpoint into Area E.

  Agents who car
ried out this task wore masks and uniforms without name tapes to effectively conceal their identities from the detainees and, as well, from each other. Once full, Area E would then be hermetically sealed and a potent biological agent paralleling sarin would be introduced into the room. After five to ten minutes had elapsed, all life within the cold, ominous confines of Area E would cease to exist. The interior would be rinsed with ammonia and the bodies then removed.

  With today’s procedure nearing completion, August took his leave of the agents under his charge and left them to finish the custodial portion of the procedure, which included donning hazmat gear and relocating the bodies to a large pit not far away for disposal and ultimately, incineration. It was a gruesome task that August wasn’t particularly fond of and, as the Southern Annex lead, could recuse himself of, if it suited him. On some days, the procedures were especially trying for August, and today, it suited him to take his leave.

  Back in his office, August plopped into his seat and pulled off the shemagh he’d been wearing as a head scarf, then used it to wipe the sweat that had collected on his forehead. He reached for a pen and opened a folded notebook just as the door to his office swung open. He looked up, startled at first, only to see that his wife, Beatrice, had come to visit.

  August smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Did you miss me or something, Bea?”

  “Save it, Augie,” Beatrice hissed in her delicate Southern twang. “I love you, but I don’t have time today. I need to know if you and your cohorts have had my predecessor put down yet.”

  “Whoa, whoa…slow down,” August requested. “Who are you talking about?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Beatrice asked, her voice showing her increasing displeasure. “My predecessor. My antecedent. The previous chief at women’s detention. Karen, Karen Mitchell.”

  “Okay—okay,” August pleaded. “I got it…hang on a sec.” August began shuffling through a pile of papers, most of which were haphazardly stapled together. “Why do you want to know?”