They lowered the stretcher onto the porch, and both Amos, Tiny, and Andrew Chapman examined the ashen-faced man whom it carried. Marvin remained unconscious, and his quick, shallow breaths and cold, clammy skin didn’t bode well for his continued survival.
“Could someone please get him some water?” Vince pleaded.
Miriam put down the SATCOM to fulfill this request, while Junior said, “Our Fed knows him. Pa. They’re most likely in cahoots together.”
“His name’s Lewis Marvin,” Vince interjected.
“We served together in Vietnam. The last time I saw him was some thirty years ago. He was on his way into Cambodia for a Search and Rescue mission. Not a single member of his unit ever came back, with Marvin himself listed as missing in action.”
Amos snickered.
“SAR mission, my ass. He was no doubt part of the CIA’s secret war, and they purposely listed him MIA to use him for other clandestine operations, like the one he’s currently involved with.”
“Though I was too young to serve in Vietnam,” interrupted Andrew Chapman, “I got a chance to serve on a Senate Intelligence committee during my stint in Congress that was tasked with investigating the CIA’s involvement in the war. I have no doubt that they were indeed involved in some activities that were never reported to the American people.”
“Yeah, like selling opium on the streets of America to finance their One World agenda,” Amos retorted.
“I never saw any proof that such a thing ever occurred,” replied Chapman.
“That’s ‘cause you’re either a fellow conspirator or dumb enough to believe their doublespeak,” said Amos.
“You politicians are all alike. You’ve sold out to other interests, forgetting that your true purpose is to serve the people.”
“I beg to differ with you,” countered Chapman.
“You’re making an unfair generalization.”
Amos spat at Chapman’s feet.
“Like hell I am! You’re nothing but a bunch of self-serving crooks. It’s time to clean out Washington, and tar and feather the whole lot of you.”
“You can do that with your vote,” said the VP.
Vince didn’t like the direction this argument was taking, and he cringed when Amos Stoddard began laughing wickedly.
“Like this country has ever seen a fair election,” said Amos, looking directly at the VP.
“We might be poor, but we ain’t stupid.
The only candidate who wins is the one that best serves the corporate. One World interest. Us folks at the bottom of the economy don’t have any real say in the government. We’re too busy fighting to survive, and ‘cause we never had the time for a decent education, the system has passed us right by. The trouble with you politicians is that you’ve lost touch with the American heartland, and deserve to be shot for your inattention.”
Tiny alertly rammed a shell into the barrel of his shotgun and offered it to Amos, saying, “Come on, old man. It’s time to back up those bold words of yours with some action. Let’s shoot the Federal bastards.”
“Yeah, Pa,” Junior put in.
“Now’s our chance to really make a difference.”
Vince knew it was time to intercede and defuse this volatile situation, and as he was mentally formulating a strategy to do so, Lewis Marvin began to stir. He issued a low moan, and when his eyes opened, Vince took advantage of his return to consciousness to divert attention from the VP.
“Lewis, it’s Vince Kellogg from A Company, First Battalion, Third Group.”
Marvin’s bloodshot eyes slowly focused on Vince, and he didn’t appear to display the least hint of recognition, prompting Vince to add, “Our teams were assigned to the Rung Sat Special Zone together, under Colonel Sharp.”
“That bastard,” cursed Marvin, his hoarse voice but a whisper.
“It were pencil-dicked sons of bitches like Sharp who lost the war for us. Jesus, Kellogg, it looks like I really screwed the pooch this time. What the hell are you doing out here in these infernal woods?”
“I was all set to ask you the same question, Lewis. I was part of the canoe convoy you attacked.”
Marvin winced in pain, and as he struggled to scan the faces of those gathered around him, his stare finally halted on Andrew Chapman.
“So you were hanging out with the likes of him,” he said, his vehement hatred of the Vice President most obvious.
“I’m working for the Secret Service now, Lewis, and for the most part, it was my team that you managed to slaughter.”
Miriam arrived with some water, and Marvin took a drink and began coughing violently. Vince waited for this spell to pass before continuing.
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what did you hope to prove with this act of cold-blooded murder?”
Marvin redirected his gaze back to Vince.
“I call it fulfilling my sworn duty to God and country. I see that you’re still part of the problem, Kellogg. If I remember correctly, you always were the type of gung-ho soldier who truly believed in the legitimacy of your orders. I was privileged to learn otherwise.
“It’s no different today, and I’m proud of the movement I serve. Your boss and the administration he represents are the real enemies, Kellogg. They’re in the process of selling us out, with the Union at risk like never before.”
Marvin hesitated for a moment to catch his breath, then said, “It’s not too late to join us, Kellogg. But don’t tarry, for the time to act is now. Someday the patriots gathered beneath Freeman shall be likened to Washington’s men at Valley Forge. Though this time our mortal enemy stands elected amongst us.”
Marvin pointed directly at Andrew Chapman, and tapping his last reservoir of strength, he struggled to sit up, all the while reaching out toward the astounded VP with his outstretched arm.
“Damn you!” he cursed, his voice quivering with rage.
“Because of you, the greatest nation ever to grace God’s good earth shall be no more!”
Another coughing fit possessed him, and before Vince could assist him, blood started to flow from his nose and mouth.
“Eternal vigilance is the price of our freedom!” he managed, before his body began convulsing in the first throes of death.
It took several minutes for him to die, and it was Vince who shut his eyelids for the final time.
“What in the world was he talking about?” asked Andrew Chapman, clearly traumatized by this confusing encounter.
“It appears that someone else is aware of your traitorous ways,” observed Amos.
“Because now it looks like you have stolen not only our land, but the rest of the nation along with it.”
“Cut the crap!” Chapman protested.
“There’s no damned conspiracy!”
“I don’t suppose any of you can explain what Marvin was referring to when he mentioned the patriots gathered beneath Freeman?” Vince questioned, ignoring the VP’s outburst.
“Is Freeman a local landmark of some sort?”
“Freeman Hollow is located just south of here, in the heart of the Irish Wilderness,” Miriam told him.
“The Tater Hill swamp lights!” exclaimed Junior.
“Pa, that’s where you saw the UFO.”
Amos shut his son up with a single menacing stare. The damage already done, Amos looked at Vince and explained what Junior was talking about.
“We suspected that the black helicopters could be operating out of Freeman Hollow for some time now.”
Vince sensed the legitimacy of this revelation, and he tried his best to voice himself with sincerity.
“I realize that I’m asking a lot, but if you can just take me to this hollow, I’ll do my best to determine if a clandestine military group is really operating out there.”
“And if there is?” asked Amos, his tone noticeably softening.