Through Many Fires (Strengthen What Remains) (8 page)

Caden
pushed buttons wildly attempting to turn on the sound.

“
What’s
wrong?” Maria asked.

“
Ah,
nothing…”

C
aden looked out the
window. Rays of light shone through the trees at the edge of the hospital
grounds.
The day has been bright, but now the sun is setting.
Returning
his gaze to the television, he continued his fruitless flipping from one
channel to the next. For several hours he had searched the networks for more
video or information about Becky, but all he found was that one brief sound
bite that told him she was alive. How had she escaped Atlanta? How had she
become President Durant’s press secretary? Why was she working for Durant? He
had no answers, but he was determined to find them.

*
              
*
 
             
*

Maria
told him that many of the soldiers from the base had deployed to provide
security and assistance for a wave of refugees moving south, away from the
Seattle destruction and contamination, but none of that made it into the news.
All he had seen on TV was stories of the valiant Coast Guardsmen who pursued
the terrorists and lost their lives in the blast. He was sure that medical
facilities were overwhelmed and the doctor had more urgent tasks than to
release him, but he was anxious to go.

The
doctor finally appeared around ten the next morning. After examining Caden he
said, “You have a concussion. Two weeks ago I would have kept you another day,
but…well…you’ll be fine.”

He
scribbled notes on the medical chart. “Get a copy of your record when you
leave, and see a doctor when you get home.”

Caden
nodded.

Maria
left Adam on the bed with Caden and returned moments later with a wheelchair.

“
I
don’t need that,” Caden said.

“
It’s
a rule,” the doctor mumbled. “Just till you’re out the door.”

If
you’re well enough to go home why do they make you use a wheelchair? Another
one of life’s great mysteries.

After
the doctor departed, Caden said, “Let’s get packed.”

“
I’m
done.”

“
Okay,
I’ll get started.”

It
didn’t take them long to pack his duffle bag. As they folded and locked the bag
he asked, “Where’s my gun?”

“
Military
police,” She retrieved a slip of paper from her pocket. “They have it. The
officer said you could get it when you leave.”

Caden
grumbled as he looked at the receipt for his gun.
I guess I wouldn’t expect
the Army to allow patients to keep guns in a hospital.
They would have to
stop by the MP office as they left.

As
soon as they were out the door Caden stood—and wobbled.
Okay, you do have a
concussion.
He touched the edge of the wheelchair to steady himself.
Take
things a bit slower.
He had planned to sling the duffle bag over his
shoulder and march away from the hospital, but dizziness changed his mind. He
dropped the bag on the sidewalk while Maria returned the chair to the hospital.

They
walked slowly to the military police office adjacent to the front gate. Several
dozen people packed the small lobby of the office when they arrived. Every
chair was filled. After several minutes an older man waved Maria over.

“
You must
be tired carrying that baby,” he said. “Take my seat.”

“
I
couldn’t.”

He
pointed to a young man near the head of the line. “That’s my son. We won’t be
here that much longer.”

“
Thank
you,” she said, sitting down.

For
more than an hour the line inched forward. Caden was hungry, but close to the
front of the line when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Maria stood beside
him. “You should have stayed seated.”

“
My
butt is sore.”

Caden
nodded. His feet were sore.

Up
ahead they heard, “I’m here to see my client.”

The MP
behind the counter said, “May I see your security badge?”

“
Why?
You know me.”

“
Orders,”
he said as if it were the millionth time. “That’s all.”

The
man pulled out his badge.

Maria’s
eyes widened as she whispered. “I don’t have one of those badges.”

“
Don’t
worry. It’s my gun. They don’t need to talk to you.”

Five
minutes later Caden was at the head of the line. Placing his badge and the
receipt on the counter he explained they had his revolver.

The
corporal nodded. “Are you heading directly off base?”

“
Yes.”

“
I
need either military or homeland identification and a concealed carry permit.”
He pulled out a form. “Fill this out while I get your weapon.”

When
the corporal returned Caden noticed the gun was unloaded. “Where’s the
bullets?”

“
You
don’t really expect us to give you a gun
and
the bullets do you?” The
corporal paused for just a moment. “Keep it concealed until you are out the
gate and clear of the sentries. If they see the gun they will take it from you
or worse.”

The
corporal looked past Caden. “Are you with this man?”

Maria
nodded.

“
May I
see your badge?”

“
Why?”
Caden asked.

He
sighed. “Orders, that’s all.”

“
I
don’t have one.”

“
You
can’t be on the base without one.”

“
I was
on the plane that landed during the attack on Seattle.”

“
Boarding
an interstate flight requires a Homeland Security badge. Do you have a
passport?”

She
shook her head.

Concern
crossed his face. “Maybe a driver’s license?”

Maria
smiled and quickly pulled it from her pocket.

His
eyes remained fixed on the license. “I’m sorry this doesn’t meet the
requirements of the Real ID law. “Lieutenant, could you come here?”

While
the two MPs talked, Caden’s concern grew.

“
Do
you have any other identification?” the Lieutenant asked.

“
No.”

“
Anyone
on base without proper ID must be taken into custody.” The Lieutenant looked at
Maria and shrugged. “Orders. Sorry.”

Mari’s
eyes begged Caden to find a solution. “You better take Adam.”

Anger and
adrenaline flowed. Caden’s every muscle was taut. He wanted to punch the two
soldiers in the room, but knew it would solve nothing. Reluctantly he took the
now crying Adam into his arms.

*
              
*
              
*

Gray
clouds darkened the sky as Caden stumbled into his barracks room late in the
afternoon. Without turning on a light he laid Adam on a blanket. “Kid, you sure
are heavy. How does Maria carry you around all day?” After caring for the
child, Caden collapsed in a chair.

He
reviewed the day. The one bright spot was that he was able to get this barracks
room. Most soldiers were deployed.

He had
to admit that the MPs had been polite—but firm. They had escorted them into the
back and reviewed their story. Caden tried to phone Governor Monroe, but the
phone’s screen was black, the battery dead. The lieutenant let him use his, but
Caden reached only a secretary at Monroe’s office. Everyone he talked to
informed him it was illegal to board an interstate flight, cross state lines or
enter a government facility without some type of Real ID, preferably a Homeland
Security badge or a passport. As far as the military police and the Office of
Special Investigations were concerned she would remain in custody until it was
determined how and why she had boarded the flight. Caden tried to get an
appointment with the Base Commander, but he refused to see him. He had no idea
how to help Maria.

Adam
slept surrounded by bundles of blankets. Caden picked up a newspaper someone
had left and attempted to read, but he just stared at the page. He tossed the
paper aside and grabbed the TV remote and clicked from one news program to
another. He zoomed past one station, then paused and tapped the controller
back.
Lyon Chapfield.
He sneered as he remembered the many times they
had spoken.
He’s so far out in left field he’s in the bleachers.

He was
about to move to another channel when Lyon’s words caught his attention.

“
Tonight
in closing I feel I must speak out about the security policies of President
Durant.”

Here
it comes, commentary from the lunatic left.

“
I do
not argue with the need to apprehend the terrorists who have murdered hundreds
of thousands and destroyed eight major cities, but in the process of waging
this war we have become a police state.”

Caden
focused on the screen. A few weeks ago he would have laughed at the idea of
America being a police state, but with Maria in jail he found himself nodding
in agreement.

“
Homeland
Security badges required for travel from state to state, long distance phone
lines and Internet service seized and shutdown except for government use and
now,” Chapfield looked to his right, “government censors at the network….”

Caden
heard pounding in the studio.

Chapfield’s
words were rushed. “All this in the name of security. Well, it was Benjamin
Franklin who said, ‘Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a
little temporary safety…,’” Chapfield looked to the side, “They…deserve…”
Shouts came from off screen. The network logo appeared on the TV accompanied by
soft music.

Caden
finished the quote. “…deserve neither liberty nor safety.” He stared at the
screen as the music continued. His stomach knotted. Had doors been busted down?
It sounded like it. Had the ‘Homeland Security Advisors’ taken Chapfield off
the air, arrested him, for speaking his mind?

Caden
turned off the sound, but kept on the television while he tried to absorb all
that had happened both on the screen and in his life. The agony of the
terrorist attacks had morphed America into something unrecognizable. His eyes
were open but all he saw were visions of fire and death in the nation’s
capital, refugees trudging along the highways, Becky on the television followed
by static.
There is a need for security, but censors busting down doors?

He shook
his head. Maria languished in jail because she didn’t have proper travel
documents, but she was not a terrorist; even Chapfield was not the enemy.
Do
I agree with Lyon Chapfield?
His mind rebelled at the thought. After some
deliberation he concluded they had a mutual agreement with Benjamin Franklin.

Caden’s
father would say that rights were God given; that government could not take
them away but, in every practical sense, the government was taking away rights.

Caden
had learned the habit of reading newspapers and watching the news from his
father. Politics, current events, God and liberty were often topics of dinner
table discussion—at least among Dad, Caden and his younger brother and sister.
He smiled as he recalled the many times his mother asked, “Can’t we talk about
things normal families discuss at dinner?”

Since
leaving home he had remained informed about politics and current events. Home.
God. Liberty. These had been taken for granted and now seemed so distant, so
elusive. “God help me. Help Maria.”

Thoughts
of Maria merged into thoughts of family.
I should phone my parents.
Once
again he imagined how the conversation might go. Who’s Maria? Why is she in
jail? They think you’re married? Who’s Adam? But, he decided to call anyway. He
flipped open his phone, and then remembered it was dead. He dug through his
duffle bag, found the charger and dialed. The number rang and rang, but there
was no answer. He swore and Adam stirred. Caden remembered the many times his
dad had said, “if someone really wants to talk to me, they’ll call back.”
Dad,
get an answering machine.
He looked through the phone address book for his
brother or sister’s number, but was embarrassed to conclude he had never
entered them. They had always communicated online and now that was impossible.

He
leaned back in his chair, eyes closed in frustration. When he opened them the
network had returned to news. He turned on the sound and watched as a man he
had never seen before introduced stories of FEMA work in refugee camps,
government food distribution and how Homeland Security had apprehended five
more terrorists. There was no mention of Lyon Chapfield or growing tension in
Asia. Caden turned off the television and threw the remote aside.

His
eyes drifted to the window as the sun dipped below the horizon. He continued to
watch as inky blackness spread across the sky. Caden imagined demons, released
by the bombs, pouring out from the gloom of the cities. As they raced across
the land they spread terror and consumed all light and hope.

Like a
drowning man, his thoughts reached toward Maria. Desperately he yearned for her
to be with him, to lift him from the blackness. He was conflicted and confused
that it was not Becky that he wanted by his side.