THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO (35 page)

They both laughed a little and Megan began to cough. “Ohhhh. Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

Keene reached up and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

He had done this every time he’d been here—hold her hand, that is. But it felt different with her awake. He liked how it felt. He even noticed that his heart had begun beating a little faster.

Megan began to cry. “I thought I’d lost you.”

She squeezed his hand tighter. He squeezed hers back. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

She wiped her eyes with the other hand and the crying gave way to a light chuckle. “I guess maybe we’re meant for each other, huh? We can’t seem to get rid of each other.”

Keene laughed and said, “I guess not.”

They sat there for a few seconds in silence before Megan spoke again. “I never stopped looking for you. I just kept believing you were alive. That I was going to wake up one day and you were going to just show up.” She started crying again. “But you never did, and I prayed and prayed. I—”

“I know. Boz told me.”

He had thought about what he wanted to say to her the whole ride there. And now, here was his chance. But for the second time in as many days, he felt a tinge of fear. What if Boz was wrong? What if he told her and she just laughed at him? He took a deep breath and let it out again. He didn’t care. He was going to say it. And whatever happened, happened.

“Megan, I want to tell you something…and I hope I’m not making an idiot out of myself.”

Megan calmed herself again and wiped her cheek. “Okay.”

“I had a lot of time to think when I was in that cell. I spent the first few weeks fighting back against Chin. I swore he wouldn’t break me. But eventually…Well, you know what they say. Everyone breaks. And when I broke, I realized two things. One, that I had run from God for so long I couldn’t even remember what I was running from. And one night, when I literally couldn’t take it any longer, I prayed to God that He would just let me die.” He looked up to see tears running down her face again. This time, he reached up and gently wiped them away. “But He didn’t. Instead, I realized He had broken down all the walls I had built up, so I could see Him. So I could come back to Him.”

“And have you?” she asked. “Come back to Him?”

“Yes, I have.”

“I prayed for that. Every day.”

“I needed it.”

“What was the second thing?”

“What?”

“You said you realized two things.”

“Oh, yeah. The second thing.” He realized his palms were sweating. He wiped them on his pants and took her hand again. “I realized the biggest reason I had to get out of there…was to get back here to you.”

Megan covered her mouth with her hand. Keene couldn’t tell if she was trying not to laugh hysterically at him, or if she was completely freaked out and was trying not to show him.

“Megan. I–I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

She reached over and grabbed his shirt and pulled him up till they were face-to-face. “Yes, you should have.” She pulled him in and kissed him softly.

T
ony Ramirez turned his vintage 1998 Audi TT Coupe Roadster off Connecticut Avenue and headed for Jennings’s place. He’d only been on the road for ten minutes, but General Markus had told him that it was imperative that he get there as quickly as humanly possible. Those were the magic words. The tarp came off, the top was put up—but only because the temperature had now dropped below sixty—and traffic laws became less of a mandate, more of a suggestion.

He had been cruising on Connecticut at about sixty-five mph, weaving in and out of the light traffic. But now that he was turning off the main thoroughfare and into a series of neighborhoods, he slowed it down. The last thing he needed was to hit some dog. Or worse, a child. He shuddered a little as he thought about why people would even let their kids play outside at night.

Jennings’s house, according to the directions Markus gave him, was only another three or four blocks away. He slowed down a little more to make sure he didn’t miss any street signs. He was beginning to think that he’d somehow passed his turn when he came around a bend and saw the Y in the road that Markus had told him about.
Good
, he thought. Jennings’s place should be the next street up. He was already later than he wanted to be, seeing how he was the only one coming for now. The rest of the guys from the unit were all on their way, but they had been out on a training exercise when Markus called and had just gotten in. They had to check in and debrief first. Ramirez hadn’t gone with them because he had been assigned to test out a new antiaircraft weapon earlier in the day, so he was free to leave as soon as the general called.

Finally
, he said to himself as he came up on the four-way stop in front of Jennings’s place. He stopped. Looked right. Looked left.

Wait. What was that?

He looked right again. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or did he just see someone sitting in a car parked on the street a little way down?

Immediately, he sensed something wasn’t right. He turned the car right—away from Jennings’s place—and started slowly down the street. As his headlights played along the cars parked on the side, he tried to recall what he’d just seen. How far down was it? Was it a car? Or was it an SUV? He had seen it so briefly, he wasn’t sure.

The street was like any other street in any neighborhood. Some people parked in their driveways. Some people parked in their garage. And people who had multiple cars—pretty much everyone, nowadays—and packed their garage full of old furniture, basketball hoops, and boxes of useless stuff, parked on the street. So there were a handful of different vehicles on either side of the road. He was pretty sure, though, he’d seen it on the left side. He slowed down to look but didn’t see anything. Maybe he imagined it. He’d already driven past the point he would’ve been able to see a person in a car—in the dark—from the stop sign. He went a little farther, just for good measure, and then turned around in a driveway and headed back.

Farid was getting nervous. Alex had told him to sit tight. She would be right back. But she had been gone now for going on twelve minutes. What was taking so long?

She had told him to get in the driver’s seat. And if he saw a car coming, to just duck down out of the way. And if she wasn’t back in fifteen minutes, then he was to drive away. She promised him she would meet him at the gas station on the corner of Connecticut and Knowles—the one they had passed on the way here.

He looked at his watch. Only one minute left. He began to argue with himself whether or not he should do as she instructed. He knew she could handle herself. But she had already been shot once in the last couple of days. He didn’t know if she would be able to get out again if something happened.
No
, he decided. He wasn’t going to leave. He would stay and make sure he got her out of there. He leaned over and reached inside the glove box and grabbed the .40 caliber Ruger she had put there. Alex had said not to use it unless he absolutely needed to. But he knew he would feel better if he had it in his hand.

Just as he was sitting back up, he saw a car pull up to the stop sign. He hesitated for a split second but then remembered what she had said.
“If you see a car, get down.”
He quickly pulled his knees up and slouched down under the steering wheel. His heart began to race. And then—headlights. He saw the lights playing against the inside of the roof of the car. And they were getting brighter. The car was coming toward him.

He pulled the slide back on the Ruger and readied himself.

He could tell the car was slowing down as it approached where he sat. The beam from the headlights moved slowly just above his head past the door, and then out the back window. The car passed him and he let out a quick breath. Then he heard it come to a stop. Only a few cars behind. His hands were beginning to shake now. He leveled the gun just above his head and was ready to pull the trigger. The car was turning around. And coming back toward him. He tried to steady himself, knowing that at any second, someone was going to rip his door open and find him there.

But it never happened. The car was going back the way it had come. He waited another couple of seconds and then slowly pulled himself up. Just enough to see over the dashboard.

Alex was in trouble.

B
oz stood just off to the side of the set, behind one of the cameras. Walker had been interviewing now for almost ten minutes. The first few were the perfunctory greetings and small talk. Boz knew the reporters would afford Walker the respect of his office—for a few minutes anyway. But after that, it would be open season. And Boz figured they had just about reached that point. Butch Larson, the interviewer and host of the program, finished fake-laughing at something Walker had said about his dog. Then he shifted in his seat. And his demeanor shifted with it. Boz knew it was time.

Here we go
, Boz thought. He bowed his head and said a quick prayer for Walker. That God would give him the right things to say and not allow him to get tripped up or flustered. Larson cleared his throat.

“So, Mr. President, as you know, Governor Nolan of North Carolina has brought some pretty substantial charges against you. How do you want to respond?”

“Thank you, Butch.” Walker folded his hands and set them on the table they were seated at. “Governor Nolan, I’m sure, loves this country. I do not question his patriotism. What I
do
question is his leadership and judgment in this situation.”

“I’m not sure I follow you, sir.”

“Butch, Governor Nolan is suggesting we take a military which is already stretched—let’s don’t forget that the previous three administrations did everything within their power to cut military spending, forcing us to decrease the size of all four branches significantly—and he wants to go punch the Chinese in the nose.”

Larson laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, but who doesn’t!”

Walker nodded. “I agree. I myself would like nothing better than to see the Chinese forced back to where they came from.”

Larson thumped his hand down on the table. “Then why are we sitting here? You can’t seriously think—even with a leaner military—that the men and women of this country who wear the uniform can’t take our country back?”

Boz smiled because he knew what was coming. He and Walker had talked about this line of questioning on the way here.

“First of all, Butch, I would never suggest that our men and women couldn’t accomplish anything. You know as well as I do that they are the best-trained soldiers in the world.” Walker held up a finger. “But they are men and women who have children, families, mothers, and fathers who love them and want to see them safe. As president, I have assumed a responsibility that says I won’t put their loved ones in harm’s way unnecessarily or when the deck is stacked against them. The Chinese have an estimated one million soldiers on this continent. Have you done the math on that, Butch? They outnumber our men and women almost three to one now. It would be reckless to send—”

“Mr. President, we’re talking about the sovereignty of our nation. You mean to tell me that men and women—of all walks of life—wouldn’t take up arms, just as our forefathers did, to secure this nation?”

“Oh, now you want to demean the capabilities of our military men and women by suggesting the average citizen is capable of doing what they train months—years—to be able to do? All so you can suit your agenda? Sounds like someone else I’ve heard recently.”

Larson’s face turned red. He looked like a deer in headlights. Boz knew Walker had just landed a brutal roundhouse punch. And Walker didn’t wait for a reply.

“Let me tell you something, Butch. This nation has walked around for years believing that we were invincible. We’ve been proud, arrogant, and foolish. Not because we aren’t one of the greatest nations on earth. We were—no, still are—a great nation. The problem is we lost our way spiritually. Our own forefathers—the ones you so readily want to speak for—did a pretty good job of speaking for themselves. And with every chance they had to give us wisdom, they did so through the teachings of Christ and the Bible. They warned us, time and time again, to trust in the sovereignty of God. To turn to His ways when troubles sat at our doorstep. And what have we done? We’ve taken prayer out of school. We’ve taught our children it’s more important to make sure we don’t offend anyone, rather than stand up for God’s truths. We manipulate and circumvent our Constitution when it suits us. What we’ve become is a nation of fools. And five months ago, God decided to remind us of that.”

Larson seemed to have regained his composure. “About that, Mr. President. Let’s talk about this Prophet. Who is he? Where did he come from? Why haven’t any of us seen him? There are many who believe that the whole Prophet thing is a hoax.”

“Butch, I can assure you the Prophet is real. When we first learned about him, we sent a team of our best people to investigate who he was. President Grant’s own personal spiritual adviser—a man who, by the way, has served our country as a Navy SEAL—was on that team. Everything the Prophet told us would happen, happened. Just like he said it would.” Walker took a breath and let it out again. “I’ll tell you another thing, too. He not only warned us, but he worked actively with us to help us secure the border we now share with China. If it weren’t for him, we might all be raising the Chinese flag.”