As much as I want to meet Aunt Kimberly, Uncle Trevor, and Martha’s parents, we decide Ogallala has too many Federal agents around for comfort. Mount Carmel House, the local Four safe house, is outside of town to the west, and the only hover line goes down 5th Street - right past the cemetery. As the bus passes, we can see a contingent of Federal agents scouring the ground in the area of my parents’ headstone, picking up pieces of granite.
Have fun with that, boys, I took every piece with engraving on it that I could find.
We jump off the bus at the end of the line, where it turns around and automatically glides away, back towards town. The complete lack of trees to use as cover makes me uncomfortable. Martha catches me scanning the sky for drones and reads my thoughts.
“You get used to it,” my native Nebraskan wife says.
There’s a working farm to our west, growing wheat. We can see the automated tractors out spraying fertilizer, and the water rigs making sure that each plant gets exactly what it needs for maximum production; but there isn’t a farmer anywhere in sight. The edge of the farmed land is defined by a deep, dry creek bed that finally gives me some comfort. If we stay in this bed, it’ll be very difficult for a high-altitude drone to spot us.
We follow the bed for a few kilometers, when I spot what was once a small farm building sitting atop a low rise. It must have been some sort of a pump house, because it has an ancient windmill next to it that’s still turning in the steady breeze. We leave the creek and travel uphill for only a few hundred meters, when Cindi leads us to a hidden tunnel entrance.
“The house is still a long way off. This tunnel must be almost a kilometer long,” I say.
“It’s amazing what you can accomplish - when you borrow farm equipment at night,” Cindi replies.
The tunnel turns out to be just the beginning. The facility under the tiny farm building is huge - at least three times larger than Bethany House. For all its size, however, it’s lightly staffed. There are just three members of Four doing the job of silently gathering information.
“Just three left?” asks Martha, when she sees an old friend that everyone calls Hank.
“What do you expect? First, you two run off to Colorado to kill Cephas; and then Geoff and James run off to follow Cephas to Africa; and the rest run off to join Zip in McIntosh…”
Hank’s voice trails off, when he sees me.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hi. Oh. Hey, what I just said about Martha and Cindi coming to kill you…”
“Don’t worry about it. Many relationships get off to a rocky start, but we worked it out.”
I laugh and Hank looks more at ease.
“Just you three? What about…” Now Martha trails off.
They all look as awkward as teenagers at their first dance.
“Cameron?” I finish the sentence.
Martha closes her eyes.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she says.
“Zip said someone named Cameron was eager to move to Bethany House,” I say. “Then Cindi mentioned his name as a childhood friend, and you got uncomfortable. It stood to reason when you looked uncomfortable again that he was the unspoken subject.”
“He swore from the time he was ten that he and Martha would be a couple and have children someday,” Cindi says.
“You’re not helping,” Martha replies.
“He was really broken up about you leaving for Colorado Springs,” Hank adds. “He took off right after you left. I think he ended up in Ohio or Illinois or something. Andrew went with him, I think just to keep an eye on him.”
“I’m sorry it worked out that way,” Martha replies. “I never meant to hurt him.”
“I’m glad you’re back,” Hank continues. “We’re one of the few houses that’s still operational, so we’ve been trying to coordinate information.
“Sorry, Hank. We’re just here for a rest, and to see if we can uncover some information,” I say; “but since you mentioned it, how do you have full power?”
“That’s my family farm. Those machines use a lot of power; so it’s easy to disguise using a little extra when we need it. Plus, Martha upgraded the old windmill so it feeds power to us or back down to the farm to even things out. It sure has been a blessing. Having constant power means we’re the house Zip contacts first to relay her updates. She should be calling anytime now.”
“Really?” Cindi says. “I’d like to find out where Geoff is assigned and maybe send him a message.”
Hanks eyes go wide and, from behind Cindi, Martha gesticulates wildly for Hank to keep his mouth shut on the subject of Geoff being missing.
“Sure. I’ll see what I can find out.”
Thankfully, Zip choses this moment to call. Her face is tired; her hair matted. We can hear sporadic weapons fire somewhere outside her command post.
“Hank? There isn’t much time. There’s been a major buildup of their men on the west side of town, and I just got word that they’re coming through with armored drones. Any news I should know about?”
“Just that Cephas, Martha, and Cindi escaped their appearance in Colorado and are here with me,” Hank says.
I walk to where Zip can see me on the screen.
“How’s the water holding out, Zip?” I ask.
Her distaste for me is still apparent, but she answers the question.
“It stopped raining before we could get effective water collection systems into place. We tried distilling contaminated water, but the toxin must have a very low boiling point. Just enough gets through that it affects some people, but not others. We’re also trying to dig up some of the ancient wells; but it looks like we’re going to die of thirst long before they shoot us. From what I’ve seen, it’s still better than dying from the plague.”
The sound of the weapons is suddenly very close to Zip’s location.
“This building is targeted! I’ve got to go.”
Before she can move, we see the building shake behind her and the picture goes sideways as her screen is knocked over. When the picture clears, we can see the front half of a massive, tank-like drone that has rammed through the wall of the building, but is no longer moving.
“Zip, get out of there! Those things carry a self-destruct,” Hank yells at the screen; but Zip is on the floor and moving slowly.
We watch as an armored panel slides to one side to reveal a screen that is projecting a familiar face. I cover the camera on Hank’s screen so we won’t be seen, but we can still see and record what’s happening.
“This is Henry Portman, Director of the F.B.I. I’m looking for the Four leader in McIntosh.”
Zip’s lower right leg is bleeding and she’s holding her ankle, but she manages to sit up.
“A white flag is traditional for negotiations,” Zip says.
She drags herself to the screen and rights it.
“Negotiate? Why would I want to negotiate, Zipporah?” Henry asks. “You’re surrounded, low on water, and I can drop my choice of weapons on you when it suits me.”
“Cut to the chase, Portman, I have more cult hunters to kill.”
“I see the reports of your natural charm were not exaggerated. As I was saying, your destruction is a simple matter; but you’ve intrigued me so much with your cunning and boldness, that I’m prepared to offer you a deal.”
“Let me guess, you want me to lead Cephas Paulson into a trap.”
“My sources say you’ve never liked him anyway. Something about killing your brother, I believe? I’m offering you a chance for both life and revenge, and to show you my sincerity I’ve sent you a gift.”
Another armored panel slides to one side to reveal a compartment containing a small white pill. Cindi squeezes my arm, as she sees an opportunity to get another dose of vaccine to work with.
“Here is a dose of my life-giving vaccine.”
It’s obvious that Zip’s in pain, as she slides forward and removes the pill from the compartment.
“This dose is marked for Garai,” Zip says.
“We didn’t make tablets for those living off the grid, Zipporah.”
“So not only would I receive the mark of the beast; but I’d also be responsible for killing Garai?”
“You could take over his organization. You’d lead thousands instead of hundreds. No one need know that you’ve taken it - or whose name was on it.”
She throws the tablet back into the compartment.
“I’d know the truth, and more importantly, the Lord would know.”
“I’m disappointed, but not surprised,” Henry says. “Luckily, you were just an insurance policy. I’ve already offered my deal to someone else.”
“If they take anything you offer, may they rot in hell alongside you, Portman.”
“I’ve changed my mind about your fate, Zipporah. Rather than bomb McIntosh, I’ll watch you suffer from thirst, and then - when it seems your pain can’t get any worse - I’ll watch you die from the plague. That, of course, assumes you survive the next thirty seconds.”
The screen on the drone goes dark, but the camera remains active. Henry intends to watch what happens next. A red light starts to flash on the front of the drone.
“Run, Zip,” Hank yells.
Zip tries to get to her feet, but falls from the pain; so she crawls towards the door instead.
“Faster, Zip,” Cindi whispers behind me.
Michael appears in the doorway and doesn’t hesitate. He picks Zip up and heads for the door.
We hear Henry say: “Two for one.”
Michael is just about to clear the doorway, when we see a flash and the connection is cut.
*****
It’s over an hour before another call comes in from McIntosh. Although she was scorched when the drone exploded, we’re all relieved to see Zip’s face.
“Thank the Lord,” Hank says.
“Thank Michael,” Zip replies. “He shielded me from the worst of it. He wants to talk to Cephas.”
Zip lowers the screen to a nightstand next to the bed where Michael is lying. He’s badly burned and bloody. Although he’s on his side, we can see a large piece of metal lodged in his back.
“Hi, Cephas. I did it. I baptized everyone in McIntosh.”
“There are still plenty of towns out there that need you, Michael.”
“I don’t think so. It’s your turn now, Cephas. It’s okay. I trusted the Lord, just like we said we would. I’ve lived every part of my life for Him the last few months, and it was beautiful.”
“It’s not over, Michael…”
I stop, because his eyes shift to another part of the room, and he smiles.
“I know you,” he says.
In the background, we hear Zip ask: “Who’s he talking to?”
“I saw you roll back the stone,” Michael says.
He lets out a deep breath, and closes his eyes for the last time.
It takes a moment before Zip picks up the screen and leaves the room with it.
“Still think of him as nothing more than bait, Zip?” I ask.
*****
I spend some time praying, then return to the command center, where Martha, Cindi, and Hank are talking.
“You said you’re here to uncover some information. What’re you trying to find?” Hank asks.
“What do we know about where Garai’s headquarters might be?” I say.
“Less than nothing,” Hank replies, while Martha and Cindi nod in agreement.
“Is that the lion’s den?” Martha asks.
“Just the first of many. The night my parents died, their group met Garai and his uncle at a restaurant in Dayton, Ohio for dinner. They were all supposed to travel from there to Philadelphia, but at the last moment, Garai and his uncle chose not to go. I’m betting his headquarters is somewhere in Dayton.”
“Why?” Martha asks. “If I had a secret organization, I’d hold high-level meetings as far from my headquarters as possible.”
“In a public restaurant? With waiters and other guests able to overhear your conversation? Garai isn’t that bold, and I’d guess that his uncle wasn’t either. It was a restaurant where they felt comfortable and in control.”
“You may be right, but it’ll be difficult to prove,” Cindi says. “Garai’s people were driven out of electronic communications because of your work with The Corps. Until you came back from the Travelers Initiative, it was unheard of for Garai to use any electronic communications to contact anyone. Even now - as far as we can tell - he’s the only one in his organization to do so, and it’s only with you. There just aren’t enough communications between us and them to find an electronic trace.”
“Okay, so they still use mostly paper,” Martha says. “Is there a way we can find Garai through that?”
“Maybe,” Hank says. “We know they buy paper through antique dealers. What if we sift through antique purchases?”
“The Corps assigned a dozen people to that idea, and came up empty,” I say. “Paper is considered a black-market item; so no records are kept. Besides, there isn’t much antique paper left. It wouldn’t be enough to supply the millions of followers Garai claims to have.”
“Okay, then let’s assume they’re making paper,” Cindi says. “What’s their source of fiber?”
“Two dozen people tried to answer that question when I was at The Corps,” I say. “They concluded Christians recycle used paper.”
“That makes no sense,” Cindi says. “Fiber can’t be recycled indefinitely. After a few times of being processed, it breaks down too far to make good paper. Since the world stopped making and using paper a hundred years ago, they’d have run out of materials to recycle a long time ago. I’m sure they recycle; but there also needs to be a source of fresh fiber.”
“Paper is made out of hemp fibers, which is why Cephas and I saw the government bringing in massive amounts of hemp for paper,” Martha says. “Garai can’t just import tons of hemp without any records.”
“Before hemp, paper was made out of wood fiber; but that ended when tree cutting on public land was banned,” I add. “There’s also no way he can be cutting down large numbers of trees, without someone noticing.”
“He doesn’t need to cut down whole trees,” Hanks says. “What if he’s just using pruned branches from trees, raked up leaves, or even grass clippings? Wouldn’t those things all contain fiber? Heck, the wheat chaff produced on this farm alone would be enough fiber to make tons of paper.”
“The Corps team looked into that too,” I say
Hank is taken aback by the idea that his family farm is being watched.
“Your harvesters weigh both the wheat kernels and the chaff being dumped onto the ground, and automatically upload the data to the Feds. Before and after the harvest, drones will take high-resolution pictures of the fields to determine how much chaff has stayed on the ground. They’d know if you were picking it up and making it into paper.”
“We’re pretty sure Garai’s family came from Egypt. Maybe he’s using papyrus,” Cindi jokes.
“That’s it,” I say.
“Papyrus?”
“Not papyrus, but something else the Egyptians have loved since the pyramids,” I say. “Did the Bethany back-ups come here before we self-destructed?”
“Sure,” Hank says.
“Display all known images of Garai and his uncle,” I order the computer.
Most of the images of Garai are from his contact with Bethany House, but there’s one old image that includes Garai and his uncle. I wince when I see the image was taken at a dinner that included my parents. It’s dated the night they died.
“Isn’t that your …” Cindi says.
“Yes.”
“Computer, analyze the clothing worn by Garai and his uncle and display on each image the most likely material from which it’s made,” I say.
One by one, on each image, the word “linen” appears.
“Now display the location of the largest importers of linen fiber in this country.”
The computer displays a map of the United States, with dots on New York, Atlanta, New Orleans, Portland, Oregon and Dayton, Ohio. The company in Dayton is called “Antiquity Mills” and is known for producing high-quality linen and cotton fabrics.
“Display a map of Dayton, showing Antiquity Mills and the restaurant where the group image was taken,” I say.
They’re only two blocks apart. I look at Hank.
“Find a cargo car to Dayton.”