by Bobby Akart
He inched toward the front porch, and as he reached the front corner, an exterior floodlight turned on. Duncan froze and looked straight up. It was a motion-sensor light immediately over his head.
I’m a lousy burglar, he thought to himself as he quickly retreated to the cover of the pickup truck parked near the garage. He forced himself to breathe slowly, as the clear night produced cool temperatures, which caused condensation as he breathed.
The front door slowly opened, and Yancey walked out onto the porch. He was carrying a shotgun. First, he walked along the porch in the direction of Duncan’s position. Then he descended the steps and began walking into the front yard toward the four-wheelers.
Duncan’s heart raced as he removed his sidearm and reached in his pocket for the silencer. He glanced through the pickup’s cab to watch Yancey’s movements as he spun the silencer into place.
Yancey stopped, and then the corner floodlight turned off. He stood there in the darkness, and Duncan considered moving on him.
“Hey, Dad! Is everything okay?” The man’s voice came from the front door. Yancey’s son.
Yancey didn’t respond at first, and then he began walking backwards towards the house. His movement caught the attention of the motion sensor, causing the floodlight to illuminate once again. Startled, he immediately swung around and pointed the shotgun toward the garage and the open space between them.
“Who’s out there?” he shouted.
Duncan detected that Yancey was frightened and even paranoid. This would make Duncan’s job more difficult.
“Dad, it’s probably nothing. You set off the motion sensor light when you came back toward the house. Why don’t you come in out of the cold?”
Yancey took another look around, and then his body relaxed. He cradled the shotgun under his armpit and walked back toward the house. “You know what, son? I think I’ll hang out here and have a cigar. Would you grab me a glass of brandy to keep my bones warm?”
“Of course, but you can smoke inside, you know. Since Mom passed away, we’ve kinda relaxed the rules around here.” Widower. Father. Scumbag.
Yancey laughed. “Well, I’m sure she’s still watching us. I’d better stay out here just to be safe.”
Duncan relaxed and looked at the stars, which filled the sky. It was a beautiful night, and he was watching a father and son discuss their deceased loved one while they enjoyed a tender moment together. Now the man whom Duncan came here to kill was settling in on the front porch of his family’s home with a cigar and a brandy.
He considered his options. If he attempted to charge Yancey, the motion-sensor light would turn on immediately, and even an untrained homeowner could manage to point the shotgun at Duncan and pepper him with buckshot.
Duncan dropped to a crouch and approached the truck’s tailgate. He calculated the distance and angle to the target. He could pull off the shot. At the worst, the bullets would imbed in the decking, startling Yancey while Armstrong charged forward. The best case, besides a kill shot, would be a hit to the torso, again enabling Duncan to rush his target.
But neither of these options provided Duncan the closure he needed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stood up where he could be seen. Duncan walked several steps toward Yancey, who was calmly smoking his cigar, when the floodlight caught his motion and lit up the front yard.
To Duncan’s surprise, Yancey didn’t react. He calmly took another sip of brandy and a long drag on his cigar. As he exhaled, three rings of smoke floated into the air until a slight breeze carried them away.
“You’re trespassing, Armstrong,” said Yancey calmly.
Duncan stopped, and his eyes darted back and forth, looking for an ambush. Have I unknowingly walked into a trap? Did Yancey cunningly lead me out into the open? But how did he know?
“Hands away from the gun,” Duncan snarled. “Keep them both where I can see them.”
“Fine,” said Yancey, who continued to avoid eye contact with Duncan. He took another puff of his cigar. “You’re a long way from home, Armstrong. Shouldn’t you be watching over your father, the new vice president?”
“He’s in good hands,” said Duncan, who was uneasy playing Yancey’s game. The man was a snake and couldn’t be trusted. He wanted to change the dynamic. He continued to approach Yancey, with his gun trained on the man’s chest. “Get up. Let’s take a walk.”
“Nah. No, thanks. I’m comfortable right here. If you’re gonna kill me, let it be on my doorstep. I’m not gonna let you drag me out in the woods like some animal.”
Duncan got frustrated. “I’m not playin’ games with you, Yancey. Let’s go.”
“Listen up, Armstrong. I’m not surprised that you’re here. I personally leaked my plan to come home so that it would reach your father’s ear. I know what Monty said to his wife as he died. It was a matter of time before you and I had this conversation.”
“Let’s talk, then,” growled Duncan. He continued to be keenly aware of his surroundings. He listened for broken twigs or noise from the forest. His eyes constantly looked for movement inside the house, where Yancey’s son could be preparing to take a shot at him.
“This won’t take long,” continued Yancey. “When I’m done, either you’ll kill me, or you won’t. As you’re about to learn, it’s just the business we’re in. All I ask is that you keep my son and his wife out of this. This is between you and me.”
“I’m not a murderer,” Duncan shot back.
“I know that. I used to be you, Armstrong. I was the guy that got the cryptic messages and the sealed dossiers from couriers in the middle of the night. I was the one who slipped out of my wife’s bed to an awaiting jet, whose crew told me where we were going after we landed.”
“Let’s get straight to the point, then,” started Duncan. “Why’d you leave us behind?”
Yancey finished his brandy and set the glass to the side. Duncan continued to watch his hands carefully. The shotgun was in plain view, but a pocket-sized handgun could be retrieved easily.
Yancey responded to his question after inhaling his cigar. The cigar was also a potential distraction, but Duncan remained focused.
“Monty and I made a business decision, just like the one you’re about to make. We couldn’t get a team in there without being discovered. Even if you’d been successful, the mission would’ve been blown by the discovery of our extraction team. The magnitude of the international outrage over the incident would have destroyed America’s credibility and severely damaged our relationship with our allies.”
Duncan was incredulous. “Come on. You knew the extraction plan before you sent us in. Why didn’t you give us a plan B?”
“You sell yourself short, Armstrong. You and Park were our best operatives. If anyone could find their way out of North Korea, it was you two. Frankly, after you killed the wrong guy, it was a wonder the two of you made it out of Kusong alive.”
“Yeah, about that. What happened? Did you set us up for failure?”
Yancey chuckled and took another puff. Just two old friends having a chat on a crisp evening in the Panhandle of Texas. Duncan didn’t like the nature of the drawn-out conversation. He was exposed, and that might prove to be a fatal mistake.
“No, we were double-crossed by Kim’s sister. I don’t know when she had the change of heart, but at some point, she alerted her brother of the planned assassination. I was frankly amazed that he didn’t use it to his advantage from a geopolitical standpoint. The EMP, in my opinion, was a brilliant strategic move on his part.”
Duncan had heard enough. Monty and Yancey had planned to extract them and then changed their minds. There was never intended to be a plan B other than he and Park using their own experience to find a way out of the country. He was starting to feel the pressure of time.
“There was no business reason, as you call it, for leaving us to die. If we were captured, the DPRK would’ve tortured us until one of us broke. You knew—”
“Plausible deniability, Armst
rong. Two rogue agents with a grudge against Kim and his regime. We would’ve documented your file and manipulated the media before your parents were notified of their loss. Make no mistake. The CIA is always one step ahead of everyone else.”
“They would have publicly executed us for the world to see!”
“Maybe, but if they did, we would have reacted with force.”
“And start a hot war?”
“You bet, Armstrong. Don’t be naïve. People like me within our government wanted a war with North Korea, just on our terms, not theirs. It turned out this way because Kim got the jump on us. The only reason we held back all these years is because we thought he was just crazy enough to push that button.”
“Heckuva way to conduct international diplomacy,” Duncan scoffed.
“Come on, Armstrong. Think about it. Reagan always pushed the concept of peace through strength. Yet the media accused him of being a madman in charge of the nuclear football. They said the same thing about Trump. You can throw Putin and Khrushchev into the group, along with Kim. The world’s nuclear powers have held back for decades because of peace through strength, plus the fear a madman may lose it and push the button.”
“So you wanted a nuclear war?” asked Duncan.
“No, but we should’ve used the power of our Pacific Fleet to stop Kim’s nuclear program in its tracks. Kim’s assassination, if successful, would’ve brought peace to the Korean Peninsula. Frankly, your capture and the aftermath would’ve given us the excuse to attack militarily.”
Duncan had had enough conversation, so he stepped forward. The fact that he was being used as a political pawn didn’t bode well for Yancey’s chances of survival.
“Why shouldn’t I just kill you and walk into the woods?”
“You probably should,” replied Yancey dryly. He took another puff on the cigar, which was approaching the end of its useful life. In the moment, Duncan wondered what Yancey would do when his cigar was spent—get up and go to bed, leaving him on the front porch alone?
Yancey sensed Duncan was conflicted. He saw an opening and he went for it. “Armstrong, you’re starting a new life now. I suspect your career as an operator is over since you’ve chosen Texas over the United States. I doubt Texas will need a man of your talents in the near future. You and your family have full-time military protection, so the days of battling bad guys is done.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Duncan interrupted, but Yancey continued.
“Do you realize, for the rest of your life, there are two kills you’ll replay over and over again in your head? Your first and your last. Your first kill will be a burden upon your soul because it opened the door for the darkness to enter you. After the first, it always gets easier.
“Your last kill will be the one that makes you the proudest. Not just because it was the last time you took another human being’s life. But because it will be replayed over and over again in your mind to the point that you have to justify the kill.
“So ask yourself. Right here. Right now. Who was your last kill? And then look me in the eyes and ask if you’ll be prouder to put a bullet between them. But, Armstrong, make a decision, because I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”
Duncan had experienced visions as he’d neared death in the freezing waters of Sinmi-do before he was rescued by Sook and her father. Near-death experiences had a way of accelerating moments in your life in a fast-forward manner.
As he stared down Yancey, he was experiencing similar visions of Sook, his family, and life at the ranch. Then his last kill surfaced. The one that he could arguably tell his grandchildren about someday. The kill that ended the North Koreans’ assault on their new nation. The death of a great warrior who’d challenged him and Texas during the early days of the collapse.
And then he focused on the CIA man who had nonchalantly orchestrated regime change in foreign lands like most people would decide which shirt to wear with their jeans. In the end, Duncan knew Yancey was right. It was business. Both he and Park had known it when they signed on for every operation. There was always the threat they’d be left behind, on their own, and with the potential to disappear without a trace.
That night, if he and Park had only walked a little slower, or faster, to avoid detection by those soldiers. If he’d only darted to the left or the right as he’d descended that creek bed, Park wouldn’t have been shot. So many variables played a part on that fateful evening. It was easy for Duncan to assign blame and seek revenge. But would it really make him feel better at this point?
Yancey cautiously rose to a point where he stood over Duncan. “I think we’re done here, right, Armstrong?”
Duncan continued to point the gun at Yancey’s head. His finger slowly slid toward the trigger. For the first time, he felt his hand quiver ever so slightly. Then he exhaled.
“We’re done.”
Yancey made no effort to pick up the shotgun or his glass. He dropped his cigar onto the porch and stamped it out with his foot. He turned his back to Duncan and walked into the house, where he gently pushed the door closed, barely making an audible click.
Duncan continued to stand in the front yard of Yancey’s house, staring as the final lights turned out in the CIA man’s bedroom. He casually unscrewed the silencer and returned it to his pocket before he holstered his weapon.
For Duncan, a new life was awaiting him. Park’s death and the circumstances surrounding it, while a tragedy, could no longer be a burden upon him. Duncan would’ve never known true happiness until he let it go and moved on. Adding Yancey’s blood to his already stained hands wouldn’t bring Park back. It would only add to the burdens Duncan carried.
In that moment, Duncan learned that to heal a wound, you have to stop touching it. He slowly turned around and began the long road home, at peace with himself.
Chapter 54
February 9
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
Lucy finally sat down at the dinner table to her husband’s right and reached for his hand. “Honey, would you mind saying the blessing?”
Major squeezed her hand and smiled. He immediately bowed his head, and everyone at the table joined him. For the first time in many days, all of the Armstrongs, including the newest addition to the family, Sook, was present. Even Espy was invited, and he had proudly taken a seat between Lucy and Palmer.
“Heavenly Father, thank You for the nourishment You have provided us on this afternoon. Thank You for keeping us safe during these trying times and for meeting our physical needs of health, hunger, and thirst.
“Forgive us for taking this simple meal for granted when there are those who live in starvation and sickness. We ask that You bless and relieve the starvation of those who hunger, and inspire our hearts to seek out ways that we can help from our abundance.
“Especially, on this day, Father, thank You for bringing us together as a family, free from the worldly burdens that can stain our souls from time to time.
“We thank You for all of the gifts and talents You have provided us around this table. Help each member of our family use these gifts to Your glory. Guide our mealtime conversations and our family time together in order to steer our hearts for Your purpose. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” said Palmer, who looked at Espy and smiled. The two of them continued to hold hands longer than others at the table, an act that didn’t go unnoticed by anyone except Riley, who was the first to reach for the bowl of mashed potatoes.
“Yes, thank you, dear,” said Lucy as she leaned over to kiss Major. She turned her attention to Espy. “Espy, I’m glad that you joined us. There’s always a seat at our dinner table for you.”
Espy, who was always in uniform, smiled and replied, “Thank you, Miss Lucy. I’ve come to know all of you and consider you my friends. It’s an honor to be with you.”
“Did y’all know Espy was promoted to lieutenant the other day?” asked Palmer as she passed the green beans toward Sook, who sat to he
r right.
“That’s right,” interjected Duncan. “He’s on the fast track to general. Heck, just a little while ago when we met, he was a corporal. At this rate, he’ll be runnin’ Fort Hood by Christmas.”
Everyone laughed, and Major shook his head as he wiped his mouth. “Trust me, Espy, you don’t want that job. That command has its hands full.”
“It can’t be worse than the stresses Fort Bliss is under in El Paso, can it?” asked Duncan.
“Not quite as bad, but at least the soldiers trying to defend El Paso can sleep in their own quarters at night,” replied Major.
“Defend? That’s an interesting use of words, Daddy,” said Cooper.
Major took another bite of beef barbecue and responded, “That’s what it has come down to, Coop. The border between Mexico and New Mexico is nonexistent. The Fort Bliss command has to fight two fronts—Mexican drug cartels to the south and New Mexico refugees on the west. Coupled with the unrest in the city itself, it truly is a war zone there.”
“Dad, where are the Fort Hood units deployed?” asked Duncan.
“Well, San Antonio has been contained. That’s the good news. Houston, on the other hand, is burning out of control in certain parts of the city. The unrest is spreading to suburbs where folks used to live a safe, comfortable lifestyle. Now they’re being attacked by large mobs of desperate people led by inner-city gangs.”
“Does Austin have a plan to get Houston under control?” asked Espy.
“Yes, but it’s come down to the use of force. Urban warfare has taken over, and a lot of innocent civilians are getting caught in the crossfire. It’s gonna take a tremendous surge of military personnel to clean out the trash and restore peace in the city.”
Everyone sat silently for a moment as they ate their dinner. Living in a remote area of West Texas, the challenges facing big cities during the apocalypse were unknown to them.
