Kyle Pratt - Through Many Fires

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.

He called home again, but the ring this time was strange and no one answered. A long night stretched out before him. In a desperate attempt to push back the darkness he turned on the lamp beside him and there in a small pool of light he sat as the demons overtook the world and sleep slowly overtook him.

Loud knocking roused Caden from his chair. He stumbled toward the door as he wiped sleep from his eyes and then his mouth on his sleeve. Finding the knob he opened the door and squinted at the fresh-faced private who stood before him.

“Are you Caden Westmore?”

“Yes.”

“General Collins would like to see you.”

“Who?”

“The base commander.”

“He would? Now? What time is it?”

“Eight thirty.” The private looked Caden up and down, “In the morning.”

“Give me a minute.” He stumbled toward the bathroom. As he passed the still sleeping Adam an unpleasant aroma hit him. “Unless you want to change a diaper, I’ll need a few more minutes.”

His face washed and shaved, Caden hurried up the steps to the Administration building wearing his least creased clothes and with a more pleasant smelling Adam in his arms. Once inside the secretary had offered to look after the baby, but Caden felt Adam might be helpful in getting Maria released, after all a mother should be with her child.