Infringement (30 page)

“I’m going to check upstairs,” she said, and ran toward the stairwell in the family room.

“I’m coming with you.”

They sprinted up the stairs, and Evan followed Jessica into her parents’ bedroom. Seeing nothing at first, Jessica scanned the room and suddenly gasped, putting her hand to her mouth as she caught sight of two bare feet on the floor, protruding from behind the bed.

“Oh, God,” she screamed.

Evan reached to try and grab her, to hold her back, but Jessica had already rushed toward them. When she saw her parents’ bruised lifeless bodies lying next to one another on the blood-soaked carpet next to the bed, she simply broke down, tossing herself onto the floor at their feet, and wailing aloud.

_______________________

Declan wrote a coded message for Megan to email back that, when decoded, simply read, “Coming.” Megan’s Uncle Ignacio had called and spoken with her father and asked that the plane be sent back to Cusco to pick them up. Anxious to get the rest of the family out of the rapidly imploding situation in the United States and to the relative calm of the high Andes, Megan’s dad made arrangements for everyone to fly to Cusco two days later.

Despite his desire to get back and do what he could to help his family, Declan was happy to have the extra time. He asked Megan to take a walk with him around the mountainside property. They strolled slowly in the misty rain, looking out over the valley below, Declan half-heartedly responding to Megan’s discussion of a plan.

“You’re really quiet this morning,” she said finally.

Declan turned to her and smiled. He looked into her eyes and loved the fact that he never had to guess what she was thinking. Megan’s eyes, her smile, were the most beautiful sights in his world.

“What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Without saying a word, Declan took her hand and slowly bent down on one knee. Looking up at her he said, “I don’t know where all this is going. I don’t know where it will all end up or even how much longer we have in this world, and I don’t care. What I do know is that I love you. I love you as much as any person can love another person and I want to spend each and every one of my remaining days here, beginning today, however long or short they may be, as your husband. Will you do me the considerable, and completely undeserved, honor of marrying me?”

With joyous tears flowing down her beautiful light pink cheeks, Megan simply responded, “Yes, absolutely.”

“I don’t have an engagement ring, but I’ll buy one for you in Cusco today.”

“I don’t care,” Megan said embracing him. “Ring or no ring, I love you and I want to be your wife. That’s all that matters.”

It took a little time, but Louis found an operating taxi and made his way along the damaged, yet quiet, route from Jerusalem to Ben Gurion Airport. For obvious reasons, the airport and skies overhead had been a priority point of protection for the Israelis. The airport had suffered no damage during the fighting, remaining unaffected but for the grounding of all commercial flights.

Limited commercial flights had resumed and Louis managed to get a ticket aboard a United Airlines flight bound for his hometown, Chicago. Once off the ground, the steady rhythm of the engines brought Louis a strange sense of ease, and, for the first time in days, he was able to sleep. He slept for all but the last hour of the flight, waking up somewhat refreshed and finally able to clear his head enough to get the beginning of a story about the Israeli conflict and bombing of Damascus down on paper.

When the plane landed in Chicago, Louis grabbed his carry-on, made his way down the jet way to the gate and, finally, to the customs desk.

“Good afternoon. Passport please,” the customs officer said.

Louis handed his passport and customs forms to the officer and stood waiting. The customs officer looked up and compared Louis to his passport photo. “You’re returning from Israel?”

“That’s right.”

The customs officer looked down at his computer again and, a few seconds later, picked up his phone. As the phone rang, he looked up to Louis and said, “Just a moment.”

After a pause, the officer spoke into the phone, “Louis Martino… Okay.”

“Is there a problem?” Louis asked.

“No, sir. It’ll just be a moment.”

A few seconds later, two armed Homeland officers approached. One asked, “Louis Martino?”

“Yes.”

“Please come with me, Mr. Martino.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“Please come with me, Mr. Martino,” the officer repeated.

“Why?”

“We need to speak with you about your activities in Israel.”

“What activities? I was in Israel covering the conflict over there. I’m a journalist.”

The other officer moved toward Louis and put his hand firmly on Louis’ shoulder. “It won’t take long,” he said. “Now please, we don’t want to make a scene.”

“I’m not concerned about making a scene. I’m concerned about why Homeland Security has questions for me, an American citizen and journalist, about what I was doing in Israel.”

Two other armed Homeland officers moved in behind Louis. The crowd of passengers in and around customs had gone silent, each watching the action closely and wondering who Louis was, what he’d done, and what would happen next.

Realizing there was no point in resisting further and that the scene was about to get ugly, he finally conceded, saying, “Fine, I’ll come with you, but I want to know what this is about.”

“I’ll be happy to explain it to you in my office,” the officer replied as the four led Louis away and through a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only”.

_______________________

Evan finished shoveling the cold light-brown soil and earth onto the shallow grave he’d prepared in the backyard for Jessica’s parents. He felt an overwhelming obligation to shield her as much as possible from the unpleasantness, to allow her to grieve inside quietly. Evan had cleaned and wrapped the bodies in blankets, dug a hole in the backyard large enough for them to lie in side by side, and gently placed Jessica’s parents into their final earthly resting place.

After covering the grave, Evan put the shovel back into the tool shed, and prepared two small memorials, to serve as makeshift headstones, out of rocks and small stones he’d found in and around the yard. He piled the stones side by side on the ground above where their heads lay below. When he’d finished, Evan did his best to clean the dirt and dust from the clothes he’d taken from Al Rawlins’ house, and went back inside.

“Jessica,” he said softly, “I’ve put your parents to… um… to rest outside. It’s not much, but it’s something in remembrance. Would you like to come outside and say something?”

Jessica sat staring at the wall in front of her and replied flatly, “I wouldn’t really know what to say. I’m not religious like you are… and they were.”

“Maybe, if you just said goodbye. It may not feel like it now, but if you don’t, I think you’ll regret it later.”

Jessica turned to Evan slowly, taking in the gentleness and clearly caring tone of his voice and mannerisms. “Okay,” she said, getting up. “I’ll come out.”

The two walked out into the backyard together and slowly over to the stone markers Evan had made.

“Thank you,” Jessica said to him. “This is nice. They would have liked being buried together.”

She looked up at the blue sky overhead, and then back to the ground. “I don’t know what to say,” she began. “Other than to say I love you both with all my heart. I’m sorry I wasn’t always the best daughter or the best person, but I loved you. I’ll miss you both, wherever you are.” Her voice was intentionally flat and lifeless as she tried to fight back the tears. Standing over her parents’ grave, Jessica felt as if she’d soon have no more tears left to give.

“They were Baptist,” she said to Evan. “I’m nothing, but I think they’d appreciate it if something was said, something from the Bible maybe. Would you mind?”

“Of course not,” Evan replied. “Mr. & Mrs. Ehlers, I never knew you, but I’m getting to know your daughter and, through her, I can see clearly that you both must have been extraordinary people. Extraordinarily strong, extraordinarily loving, extraordinarily resilient. As believers in the Lord Jesus, as children of the one true King, I know, we know, that you’re at home with our Lord now, finally at peace by His side. One day, when the Lord wills, we’ll see you in the place He’s prepared for us. A place filled with His love and His light, New Jerusalem. Amen.”

“Thank you,” Jessica said. “They would have appreciated that. I’m not so sure I’ll see them again, but thank you for saying it.”

“I wondered that myself for a time when my dad passed away.”

“How old were you?”

“I was seventeen. My younger brother was only eleven. My dad was strong in his faith, as is my mom. They introduced us to God, to Jesus, at an early age, and I loved Him from the beginning. As I grew older and came to know more of the world, my faith only grew. I never went through a rebellious phase, never questioned God or His love, except once, on the day we buried my dad. As well as I knew God, as well as I knew His Word and His promises, I questioned everything that day. I worried that maybe there was no God, no heaven, and that I’d never see my dad again. I questioned why God would take away such a great guy, take him from his wife and his two boys. I remember thinking how that seemed totally contrary to the God I thought I knew. I stopped trusting Him.”

“What happened to change your mind?”

“God happened. I read Jeremiah 29, verses eleven through thirteen, which said, ‘For
I know
the plans I have for
you
, declares the
LORD
, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart’. I read that and I realized that God knows what He’s doing, not me. If we just give ourselves over to Him, give Him our whole hearts, He promises to work all things, good and bad, for His good and ours. God doesn’t cause the bad things in life to happen to us. He won’t harm us. But, you see, the key is,
He
knows, not me. It’s for me to know Him and, because of who He is, to trust Him with every ounce of my being. He had a plan for my life, and He has a plan for yours too.”

“Right now, I seriously doubt that,” Jessica replied. “It’s a nice thought, but I doubt it.”

“So did I once. So did I. Just know, God doesn’t cause evil, sadness, or pain, but He’s faithful to get us through them and to work bad situations for our good and the good of others in ways we probably can’t even see and don’t understand. Our job is simply to trust Him, and when we do that we can have joy in all circumstances.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see,” she responded beginning to walk back toward the house. She stopped, turned around, and asked, “Would you mind… would it be okay if I came with you, you know, when you try and get back home?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Thank you, Evan. You’re a very kind man, and you’ve been a good friend. The best I’ve had lately.”

“We make a good team.”

“I agree. I’m going to try and get some sleep. Why don’t we gather up what clothes and supplies we can and leave at sunrise, when the curfew lifts?”

“Okay.”

“We can take my dad’s car. It should be in the garage. My parents always kept a small stash of cash and some gold and silver coins. They told me where they’re hidden. That should help get us there.”

“It’ll make all the difference. I’ll check out the car and start getting some things loaded up.”

“Sounds good. The keys should be on a hook next to the door in the kitchen. The keys to my dad’s gun safe should be hanging there too. I’m not sure if they’d still be in there, or if they were confiscated, but it won’t hurt to look.”

“Get some sleep,” Evan replied. “I’ll take care of it.”

Jessica went up to her old room and lay down on her bed, emotionally drained and exhausted. Evan grabbed the car keys and headed out to the garage. He turned on the engine to make sure the car was working. As he did so, the radio came on, already tuned into a talk radio station. The broadcasters were discussing the strong condemnations and calls for boycotts against Israel coming from the United Nations and the various world governments in the aftermath of the Damascus bombing. Evan sat listening to the news, the overriding theme of which being that Israel was alone in the world.

“Oh God,” Evan said aloud, hearing for the first time what had happened and how Isaiah’s prophecy concerning Damascus had finally been fulfilled. “Lord, you are true to your Word and you are most certainly on your way soon, even just around the corner. Now, to get home to my beautiful Michelle and my babies, Lord willing.”

Louis was escorted into a small, windowless office, where a man in a pinstripe, heather-gray suit was sitting behind a small nondescript desk. Another man, in a navy-blue suit, stood to his left. The four Homeland officers brought Louis in and stood for a second behind him.”

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Martino,” the man behind the desk said. Louis took it as more of a command than an invitation, and, feeling resistance would be a waste of time and energy, he sat down with an audible sigh. One of the Homeland officers took Louis’ carry-on from him, removed his laptop, and handed it to the man in the navy-blue suit, who took the laptop and stepped outside. He handed Louis’ passport to the man behind the desk.

“Hey,” Louis protested, “that’s my laptop. He can’t take that.”

“You can wait for us outside,” the man behind the desk said to the Homeland officers.

“Yes, sir. We’ll be right outside,” one responded, and the four filed through the doorway, closing the door behind them.

“So, Mr. Martino, do you know who I am?”

“Should I?”

“Well, as, based upon your recent article, you seem so exceptionally well informed on the David Stanton matter, I thought you may. Regardless, I’m John Bleeker.”

“Declan Parker’s boss?”

“No, not anymore. I’m now serving as the President’s Special Advisor on Domestic Terrorism, and in some related functions in the realm of Homeland Security.”