Kyle Pratt - Through Many Fires

Caden nodded. “You’ve got my vote.”

“Thank you.” His faced relaxed into a smile. “However, there is another reason I’m here,” the Governor said in a more upbeat tone, “I’ve got to get back to Olympia, but before I leave I wanted to ask you to join my advisory staff, if you’re up to it.”

Caden smiled. “This is a great opportunity—joining the team of the leading presidential candidate….”

“Actually, at the moment, I’m the only candidate.”

Caden’s mind raced for a moment and then recalled. The other candidate had been Senator Horton. He would have been at the joint session of Congress on the night of the bombing. “Oh, yes.”

“Will you join me?”

Caden was unsure why, but he looked at Maria.

She shrugged.

“Yes, I would be proud to work for the next president.”

“Great. I’m heading back to Olympia this afternoon. I talked with the nurse on duty. She tells me you should be released tomorrow. Meet me at my office in the capitol when you get there. I’ll just keep you a little while and then you can head home and check on your family.” They shook hands and then the governor stood, nodded to Maria, and left the room.

Caden turned and smiled at Maria. “It will be nice to get home.” As he said it, he realized his home was not her home. “Well, when we get to my house…it’ll be nice for you too.” His face burned. “You’ll like it… they’ll like you.”

“I know what you mean. I’m fine now. I’ll be fine there too.”

Again he smiled, grateful for her understanding heart. Slowly his eyes lifted to the still muted television. The caption at the bottom of the screen said, “Presidential Press Secretary.” There behind the podium stood Rebecca Thornton—Becky.

Caden pushed buttons wildly attempting to turn on the sound.

“What’s wrong?” Maria asked.

“Ah, nothing…”

Caden 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.