Chapter 5
Pasadena, CA
The New Capital of the United Republic
of the Alliance
Earlier that Morning
A man stood before a full-length mirror in his office. He straightened his double Windsor red tie and slipped on a fine Italian cut pinstripe navy blue suit jacket over a white twill cotton French-cuff dress shirt.
“The nation of the west is fallen,” he recited to himself. “The nation of the west is no more. Ahem. America is no more. Hmm. America, the great has fallen. The nation of the west belongs to the strong."
There was a knock on the door.
“Enter,” the man said.
A young Caucasian woman opened the door and came into the room, carrying a tablet and wearing an earpiece. “They’re ready for you, Mr. Graham,” she said.
The man’s faced soured and he waved an index finger at her. “Try that again,” he said.
“A thousand apologies,” the woman smiled. She took a lent roller and began brushing his sleeves. “The press is ready for you, Spokesmen Graham.”
“Thank you, Alice,” he said. “Just to be clear, I could care less about a title. The message I bring to the now fallen patriots of this corrupt society needs to be concise and direct. There’s no better way to douse the hope of insurrection than by delivering this message from a Brit.”
“We’ve all looked forward to this day, Mr. Spokesmen,” Alice said. “I can’t believe it’s finally arrived. No more listening to the lies of corrupt politicians or having to endure brutality from the police."
“No more financial banking parasites living off the backs of the hardworking middle class.”
“And an end to greedy education board members plunging millions of college students into debt.” She finished with the lent roller and handed him his notebook. “Per your request, every major news outlet in the world is present.”
“And they have been briefed that I will answer events regarding the war, despite that white devil of a senator, Fitzpatrick’s objections, correct?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“They have, sir.”
“Alice, you are one out of a million gems found in this godforsaken land. Alright. Let’s go make history.”
***
John realized that Claire hadn’t said a word to him since they were chased away from their home under gunfire. After learning why Miles was after them she seemed cold and distant. Miles wanted John to cash in on Sasha’s two-million insurance policy and give him and his people the money. But Claire’s behavior told him that she thought he was attempting to keep that information from her. He had attempted to explain to her that he only learned about the policy the day before the funeral and didn’t want to bring it up while burying her mother. Claire didn’t respond. She only stared out the window and shook her head.
Margaret decided that they should go south towards Pittsburgh. She got on the highway and took the Two Seventy-Nine until they reached Casino Drive. They settled on stopping at an abandoned building where Rivers Casino Pittsburgh business used to be near the Ohio River. Once they found a way into the building, John took off his shirt and removed the Kevlar body armor. He grabbed Bill's flashlight and surveyed his torso. A huge bruise formed on his chest from the impact of the sniper bullet.
“You’ll be hurtin’ for a couple of days," Bill remarked. “But trust me, you got off easy, compared to me.” He beamed and winked at John. "And you thought I couldn’t hold up under torture. I took it like a man and gave it back to em’ ten-fold.”
“You sure did,” Claire said, taking the flashlight and turning it on him. “I’m so proud of you. Alright, cowboy; Let me see what you have here.”
“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” Bill said as Claire surveyed his injuries. The former army sergeant had indeed fared worse than John. He suffered a gash above his right eye, two dislocated fingers, and cuts and scrapes on his face and neck.
“CW,” John said, as she surveyed Bill. “Are we going to talk about your Mom’s insurance policy?"
Claire said nothing. She sutured the gash on a squirming Bill’s eye with a turner kit she always carried with her. John would never admit it, but it infuriated him when Claire ignored him. He found this type of behavior juvenile. She had graduated from medical school at the top of her class and was the youngest chief resident in Pennsylvania state history. She had shown remarkable patience when taking care of her ailing mother and even looking after John.
Yet when Claire became angry, she resorted to immature tactics. She would fold her arms, blatantly avoid eye contact with him, and make remarks under her breath. When asked to repeat it, she would only chuckle and shake her head. John felt like she did it to provoke him and it often worked. Navigating the intricate terrain of Claire’s mood swings and facial expressions made him want to pull his hair out. But of all days, he wasn’t about to get trapped into a losing battle.
“Fine,” he said. “But don’t ask me about this again later.”
“What we should talk about is the fact that we don’t have a plan,” Bill interrupted. “Ouch, that hurts!” he protested to Claire as she struggled to close the wound over his right eye.
“Tex, please,” she sighed. “If I don’t patch this up, it could get infected. And then you’ll be yelling at me for not making you sit still."
“Where’s Marge?” John said.
“Over hear,” the restaurant owner called out in the dark. Claire shined the flashlight in her direction and found her sitting on the floor.
“Marge?” she said to her. “Are you alright?”
“Child, get that flashlight off me. What do you think? After a day like today, I was looking forward to was getting home to sleep in my own bed. And now I can’t go home; can’t even go back to my diner.”
“Maybe we can get a hotel outside the city,” Claire suggested, looking at John.
“And make digital paper trail?” he replied. That’ll lead JKF right to us. I’ certain that they already have an APB on us."
"I have a better idea,” Margaret said.
Claire turned the flashlight toward her but thought better of it and continued to work on Bill.
“Let’s get out of Pennsylvania. I know a place we can stay in West Virginia. It ain't much as far as comfort goes, but it’s off the grid. I got enough money on me to make it last about a week, give or take. We can put a plan together and go from there.”
“Well,” Bill said, wincing as Claire finished stitching his eyebrow. He nodded to John. “Tom Clancy over there brought the black ghost of Christmas present into our lives, so we might as well haul-tail it out of Pennsylvania before the JKF closes the roads.”
“If they haven’t already,” Margaret said.
“Wait,” Claire interjected. “Marge, this place you’re talking about; is it the one in Mill Creek?”
“It is.”
“That cabin belonged to Jermaine.”
"We don’t have many options right now, CW," said John.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Claire retorted. “Marge, are you sure about this?”
“Girl, will you hush?” Margaret said. “It ain’t like my son can use the cabin anymore, God rest his soul.” She motioned to Claire and John. "Besides it’ll give y'all an hour to fix whatever goin’ on between you two. Cause’ I ain’t listening to no drama when we get there. I’m taking a bubble bath and goin’ to sleep. Y’all can do whatever.”
***
The adrenaline had begun to wear off, as the gang made their way down Saw Mill Run Blvd and US-19 S. The chatter had died down, and all was quiet. John was plagued with guilt as he pondered the decisions he had made. In the span of twelve hours, he had not only put the lives of his loved ones in danger, but they now had to uproot their lives and go on the run. They were being hunted by a madman because of his ego.
“Let it go, for now, John,” Bill said when the Navy vet attempted to apologize. "Right now, we are too hungry to think about the fact that you are largely responsible for putting Marge out of business, and that I will probably never see a pension check again.”
“I wasn’t the one who asked you to come along, Tex,” John fired back.
Margaret gaped at him through her rear-view mirror. “No, but I did. What are you tryin’ to say?”
“I didn't say anything."
“You just said you weren’t the one who asked Bill to help you find Claire. So, what does that mean?”
“Sounds to me like he’s blamin' you,” Bill said.
“Yeah,” Claire said quietly. “Perfect thing to say to the woman who saved your life twice.”
“I thought you weren’t speaking to me,” John said to her. “And what about you? This would’ve been a lot easier if you hadn’t run off earlier.”
“Oh, real nice, Dad. That is so typical of you. Blame everyone else but yourself.”
“John, if you had a brain, it’d die of loneliness,” Bill said.
“Cram it, Gramps,” John said, seething. “Everybody just shut up, OK? We’ve all been through a lot and I need to think about our next move.”
“Who said you get to decide what’s next?” Margaret hollered. “Because of you, I no longer have a job. I’ve lost everyone and everything I loved because of this stupid war. My restaurant was all I had left. I made a promise to look after you, John.” She shook her head. "But I didn’t know it was gonna’ cost me this.”
“Marge,” John whispered. I’m… I don’t-
“Just don’t say nothin’ to me right now,” Margaret said, as tears began to stream down her face.
“Alright, let’s find some tunes," Bill said. He began to fiddle with the radio and sifted through the stations.
“Wait,” Claire said, pointing ahead of them. "What is that?”
John looked up and saw that a checkpoint had been set up on the West End Bridge just before reaching the Ohio River. Blue and yellow flashing lights indicated that Justice Keeper Forces, a national law enforcement agency established by the GRA had set up a roadblock.
“Crap,” John said. "It’s JKF. I’m going to strangle Miles when I see him again.”
“They must be combing every inch of the city by now,” Claire said.
Margaret pulled up behind a line of cars waiting to go through the checkpoint. “What do we do?”
“Whip this thing around of course,” Bill said. “Let’s go.”
“And where we gon’ go, Bill?” Margaret said. “We're boxed in. This is a one-way road.”
“If there’s anyone who can get us out of this, it’s you, Marge,” Bill replied.
John knew Margaret was right. Hundreds of cars in two lanes lined up in front of and behind them, waiting to pass through the checkpoint.
“We’re not going anywhere,” he said, shaking his head. “We’ll just have to risk it.”
“You are about as crazy as a bull-bat?” Bill said. “We are wanted and you expect us to go rollin’ through that checkpoint like it ain’t nothing?"
“Miles didn’t blow our cover,” John said. "He just wants us to think he did. He probably just made a few anonymous calls to scare us. He wants to force us to make a mistake."
“And you’re willing to bet our freedom on that?” Claire challenged. “What if JKF already knows who we are?”
“Then I’ll handle it,” he said. John realized that Claire might be right. He knew Miles like the back of his hand. Yet, the freedom fighter had proven to be unpredictable on many occasions when they crossed paths. What other options did they have? John pulled his knit cuff winter hat over his brow and pulled the collar of his flight jacket up around his face. Removing his Glock from his jacket, he reloaded it with a single clip.
“Dad,” Claire whispered. “What are you doing?”
“Where’s the weapon I gave you? Give it to Tex.”
“Why? What are you going to-?
“For the love of all things sacred, CW, will you just listen to me for once? Just give Tex the darn gun.”
Shaking, Claire lifted up her shirt and removed the Sig M25 from her waist. She handed it to Bill, who stared at John, bewildered.
“What’s the plan here?” he said as they got closer to the checkpoint. "We have two firearms and there are about five cruisers up there. Best case scenario only one or two of us escape with life-threatening injuries. Worse case, we all get shot up like Bonny and Clyde.”
“I got this,” John said, sticking his Glock into the right pocket of his jacket. “Marge, when I say go, I want you to floor the pedal and get us out of here as quickly as possible. CW, get down and don’t get up for anything, understood? Tex, be ready with that pistol in case they start shooting. We’ll need to provide cover fire for Marge.”
"I hope I get lucky and cap one of those bastards,” Bill said.
“Wait!” Margaret said. “Are we really doing this? We gettin’ into another shootout? This time with law enforcement?"
John laid back into his seat. “Hopefully it won’t come to that. But it’s better than being hanged. Everybody, just do your part and we’ll be fine. Stay calm and don’t do anything suspicious.”
Claire nodded nervously and pulled her hoodie over her head.
“Oh Jesus," Margaret whispered when they were next in line. “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…”
***
"Good evening,” A JKF officer said when Margaret stopped at the checkpoint. “How are you all doing tonight?” By his accent, Claire figured the man to be Latino and in his late twenties; the type she would usually be attracted to if it were a different situation. His blue and yellow leather trench coat and police hat bore a soldier carrying a spear, JKF’s insignia.
“We’re doing alright,” Margaret said pleasantly. “Just taking some friends home.”
The Justice Keeper raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “This time of night? Where’s home?”
“We’re headed to Morgantown, sir,” Margaret said, without flinching. “It’s not that far; about an hour out.”
“So where are you guys coming from?”
“Blueberry Park,” Margaret said.
“The cemetery?”
“We went to see my husband’s grave. Today is the anniversary of his passing and my friends didn’t want me to be alone.”
“Uh-huh,” the officer grunted and shined a flashlight into the SUV. "So, let me get this straight. You drove all the way to Morgantown, brought your friends back to Blueberry to spend the day? And now you’re taking them back to Morgantown, only to have to drive all the way back here at this time of the night?” He shined the flashlight in Bill’s face. “What about you, old man?”
“What about me?” Bill stammered, squinting his eyes.
“You're going to let this woman do all the driving?” the officer questioned. “Or are you going to be a gentleman and offer to take the wheel?"
“Sir, what is your name?” Bill said, appearing to grow increasingly frustrated.
“My name is Eric Perez."
“Well Officer Perez, if you don’t get that flashlight out of my face, son I will-
“Um, Officer Perez, is it?” Margaret interrupted, glaring at Bill. “What my friend is trying to say politely, we don’t see how these questions pertain to the purpose of this checkpoint. Whatever arrangement my friends and I have made are well, between us.”
Perez nodded and moved toward the front of Margaret’s Cadillac CTS. He looked at the hood and put a hand on the front of the SUV.
“What is he doing?” Claire murmured, her pulse racing
“Looks like he’s checking out the damage,” Bill said. “This guy is really starting to piss me off.”
“Hey!” John whispered furiously. “Keep it cool, Tex. You don’t make one move without me giving you the signal. Understand?”
Perez called to one of the other officers and pointed at the car. A tall black man came over and conversed with him. Claire nearly jumped out of her skin when Perez pointed at her and her father in the back.
“That signal might be coming sooner rather than later,” John said, slipping his hand into his right jacket pocket. Claire heard the click of the safety switch on his Glock. God, please help us, she whispered.
"Officer Perez is talking to tall, dark, and handsome over there about the bullet holes in the vehicle,” John muttered. "And even though tall, dark, and handsome reminds him that more than half the vehicles they stop have suffered some kind of damage during the war, Perez insists that the bullet holes are fresh. Get ready; here they come.”
Perez and the tall officer approached the vehicle and shined both their flashlights on Claire and John.
“Ma’am, who are your friends in the back seat?” Perez asked Margaret.
“I told you who they are,” Margaret said, clearly angry. “And please, officers remove your flashlights from their faces. Can’t you tell they are sleeping? Ain’t nothin’ suspicious about them sleeping this time of the night, is it?"
“Of course not. Except unless that young lady has nocturnal lagophthalmos, I don’t think she’s asleep. I caught her peeking at me on several occasions.”
Claire perspired. The thought of being hanged like her friends who rescued her from home paralyzed her with fear.
"Look, Officer,” Margaret said. “I know that we no longer abide under the constitution. But I pay attention to the news, OK? We do have some rights. I’m just trying to get my friends home, and right now, you are impeding my rights to do so.”
“Well again, Ma’am you’d be right. Except you have fresh bullet holes in your vehicle, your passenger has fresh cuts on his face, and your friends in the back are trying desperately to avoid talking to me. “Perez radioed to the other officers, advising them of a 219, which Sasha had taught her was their code for uncooperative and possible combatants. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to park your car behind those cruisers to the right where the two officers are waiting.”
“Go, go, go!” John yelled making Claire jump. She gasped when John tossed an object out of the window at Officer Perez’s feet.
“Grenade,” the peacekeeper yelled. “Get down!”
Margaret stomped the gas pedal and the SUV screeched and sped off. The momentum sent Claire to the floor and she heard gunfire. The back-window glass shattered and she shielded her head from falling glass.
“Tex!” John yelled as he shot through the back window.
“I’m on it,” Bill replied, returning fire out of the passenger window. “John where the heck did you get a smoke grenade? Looks like Clouds of Sills back there.”
“They’ve blocked the road,” Margaret said.
“Ram it through!” said John.
“Oh Jesus!” she uttered. “Really?”
“Yeah, go!” John replied sitting back in his seat, bracing for the collision.
Claire peeked up and saw them quickly approaching two JKF cruisers blocking the road. Officers in front of the cars aimed their guns but dove out of the way in the nick of time.
“Everybody hold on,” John said.
Claire ducked down and pushed her arms against the seat to brace for impact. The CTS rammed through the cars. The jawing impact made Claire bite her tongue and she tasted blood in her mouth.
Margaret sped toward the bridge and they quickly made their way across the Ohio River. Claire peered out the back window. As the officers recovered and fired several rounds, hitting the left taillight. “It worked,” she said. “I think we’re losing them.” She collapsed in her seat and exhaled.
“Woo!” Bill hollered, catching his breath. “That was wild. I think Claire’s right. I don’t see those toy cops following us. Looks like we’re in the clear.”
“Just keep the pedal to the medal, Marge,” John said as they blew past other cars on the road. “We need to put as much distance between them and us as possible.”
Margaret nodded and speedily weaved in and out of traffic.
Just then, a cell phone rang.
“What in the blazes is that?” Bill said.
Claire looked at her dad, who swore and slammed his fist on the seat.
“It’s the phone Miles planted in my home. I forgot I had it.”
“Well dump it,” Margaret said. “That fool is probably trackin' us right now."
“Wait, Dad!” Claire said. “You’re really going to answer that?”
“It couldn’t hurt to see what he wants." John pushed the talk button and put the phone on speaker. He glanced at Claire and she nodded to him. “What the hell do you want, Miles?”
"Woo-wee, John, you the man!” Miles laughed. “The White Terror at his finest, tearing up the road.”
“I don’t have time for this,” John yelled. “I’ve had enough of your head games, and enough of you shooting at us. This ends now.”
“Apparently, you ain’t learned your lesson yet, white boy,” Miles growled. “You don’t give the orders. I’m the one who shot up your house. I’m the one who's got you on the run. This ends when I say it ends.”
John was filled with violent rage. He wanted to reach through that phone and gauge Miles’ eyes out. “You’re not getting any money from me,” he roared. “You might as well get that through that thick head of yours.”
“Oh, I’m gonna’ collect that money, Cap. You can bet your life on that. Unless you enjoy putting your family at risk? Really? No response? OK? Time to turn up the heat. Just remember, you asked for this.”
“Whatever you say,” John said. “I’m going to finish this when I see you, you coward. He flipped the phone shut. “Stop the car, Marge.”
“Right here on the bridge?” Margaret asked.
“Right here is perfect.”
The aging woman pulled her CTS over to the side of the road. Cars honked as they blazed by. John hopped out and snapped the phone in two. He removed the battery and tossed the pieces over the bridge into the river.
“What did that maniac mean when he said he was gonna’ turn up the heat?” Bill replied when John returned to the car.
“I don’t know, “ John said, closing the door. “For now, let’s just get to Mill Creek."
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