Sudden Threat (29 page)

Better than Iran-Contra!

CHAPTER 50

Greene County, Virginia 

Karen Garrett, Matt’s and Zachary’s sister, had been calling the Department of Defense, the Central Intelligence Agency, and her congressman for the last twenty-four hours, but only ran into the usual bureaucratic nightmare. Nobody could tell her the location of either of her brothers. Not only because they did not know, but also because everything was “classified.”

Angry and frustrated, she had not slept for almost two days. Their mother had passed away, and the funeral was scheduled for that day. They really could not put it off any longer. She reported to her father, almost shamefully, that nobody could locate his two sons. Her father looked away, sad. “Bring the boys home,” was all he said, then walked away.

Karen turned her coffee cup in her hand, looking out the window, recalling the events of the past few days. With the help of the bourbon, she had not cried, but her eyes remained moist, ready to gush whenever the switch flipped. She watched curiously as a sedan pitched and rocked, slowly making its way to the house. By then she could see some writing on the door of the car.

Usually, uninvited visitors in that part of the country did not bring good news. Had she paid the taxes this month, she wondered? Was she behind on her fertilizer payments? As the car parked in the gravel lot to the front of the wooden porch, she read the words: u.s. government on its side. The car stopped, and she watched the blond woman step out of the driver’s seat. She was wearing a nice blue dress with high heels. Karen checked her own visage in the hallway mirror as she stood. Trademark ponytail yanked into a knot revealing a fresh, sans-makeup look.

The funeral was not for another two hours. What could she be doing here? And who was she? She let the woman knock on the door.

Walking to the door, she pondered what bad news the woman would bring. Her mother was dead, her father was ill, and she had been in her room crying for two days. Where she got her strength, she did not know. But it seemed to grow with each passing moment. For some reason she knew she could hold on. Opening the door, she stared at the mountains behind the woman’s pale hair.

She could feel their strength building inside her, as if her mother’s passing had left something tangible in her character; another I-beam. She would need it.

“Hi. I’m Meredith,” she said, seeing Karen in person for the first time. “You must be Karen.” Meredith looked at Karen’s clean face, so fresh and pure. Her eyes were penetrating, like they knew what she was thinking.

“That’s right,” Karen said, blankly, not making a connection. She held the door open with one hand, her body blocking the entrance to the wooden foyer.

“Karen, may I come in for a second? I’ve driven down from DC.”

“No. Let’s sit on the porch,” she said, closing the door behind her, as if to protect what remained of her family from the intruder. The porch was a typical farmhouse addition. The roof hung over a high wooden structure that had old metal chairs that would rock if one leaned back in them hard enough. The red bricks from the house were stained with red clay. She let the screen door slam behind her and walked over to a metal chair, taking a seat.

“I’m sorry, Meredith, did you say?” She cupped her hands on her knees. “The funeral’s not for another two hours—”

“I’m so sorry for the loss of your mother,” Meredith responded, covering her mouth with her hands. She had been traveling for the past two days on her return from Palau. A secretary had told her that Matt’s mother had died and that a woman was trying to get in touch with him for the funeral.

Her first stop, though, had been at the home of Chief Warrant Officer Ron Peterson outside of Seattle, Washington. She accompanied the casualty-assistance team on their grim notification duties and passed Ron’s identification tags to his wife, as she had promised Matt. Now, having just arrived on the East Coast, Meredith was exhausted, but decided to travel to the farm, two hours away, immediately, and inform the Garrett family of the situation.

“Karen. I have some information on Matt and Zachary,” Meredith started.

“Yes,” Karen said, eyes darting up quickly, “tell me.”

“Both of your brothers are in the Philippines. We have communications with Zachary, who is in the jungle with his company. They have been fighting, but he is fine. Matt,” she sighed, “Matt …” She hesitated again.

“What’s happened to him?” Karen screamed as she stood and approached Meredith dangerously.

“Karen, Matt’s been taken hostage by some Filipino rebels,” she said, finally.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” she screamed. “My family. What’s happening to my family?” Meredith stood and hugged her, dropping her purse on the wooden porch. Karen was limp in her arms and actually pushing away from the bearer of bad news. Meredith’s clutch was too tight, though, and they both were crying.

“We’ll get him back. He’s special, I know.” Karen hugged Meredith back, more from lack of strength than for any other reason. The dam of stoicism burst under the relentless pressure. Even the bourbon couldn’t help. The news had sapped her strength the way the sun sucked the life from a man stranded in the desert. She felt isolated, with nowhere to turn, so she held on to Meredith for no particular reason. She could not show her father such emotions. She had to be strong for him.

But her father watched from the field. He saw the two hugging on the porch and had heard her scream. Once again, he dropped his hoe, took a knee, and grabbed a fistful of dirt, squeezing tightly, trying to wrench one more drop of good fortune. He knew that something was badly wrong and only wanted to make it right. His family had toiled hard for decades. They had served their country better than most.

Looking at the loose, red dirt in his hand, he prayed for the safe return of his boys. “Bring the boys home,” he said, loudly and with passion. “Bring the boys home!” he screamed at the heavens, arms stretched high reaching toward the God he knew and loved.

Karen retrieved her father, and they moved inside to the parlor, as they still called it in the Garrett house. Karen had started to fix coffee, but Meredith quickly took over, floating around the kitchen as if she had lived there forever. Soon she came out with a tray of coffee and hot tea. The Garrett family drank heartily, warming their dank spirits. Meredith repeated the story, this time with less emotion on both sides. She said that the Departments of State and Defense were doing everything they could to get a handle on the situation. Meredith tried to be positive, talking up the actions of Zachary’s company. Word had gotten back to the Defense Department that he and his soldiers had acted bravely, she told them.

“I expected nothing less,” Mr. Garrett said, proudly.

Then Meredith told them about the airplane and how lucky Matt was to be alive. She choked on her words when she said it, but she was looking for something positive. It had backfired, though, only serving to underscore the gravity of the situation.

Meredith stayed with the family that day, attending the funeral and meeting many of the fine people of Stanardsville, who had always relied so heavily on Karen and the rest of the Garrett family. They reminded her so much of her own family and friends from her part of Virginia. The accent was the same: Elizabethan English. They all pronounced their “ou” words with the same throaty mountain drawl. The “u” was never silent. “House” became a two-syllable word, stressing the long “u.”

It seemed that everyone from town came to the funeral. The Reverend Early arrived beforehand and consoled Karen and her father. He delivered a warm and powerful eulogy, describing their mother as a woman of the soil. Recalling her family tradition throughout the county, he quoted from Romans 11: “If the root is holy, so are the branches.”

“Elizabeth Garrett was a loving and caring person,” he had said. “Someone who would give a stranger water if he was thirsty, someone who would feed a starving man, someone who provided for her family without complaint. She was holy, and her life produced three holy “branches,” two of which are not here. She was a rock, and the Blue Ridge formed around her; indeed this community formed around her. And now she returns to the soil that sustained her, the dirt she had tilled and caressed.”

They attended church that afternoon, as well. It was a small brick structure. The four of them were the only ones there. They sat in a row and prayed for Zachary and Matt and all of the other soldiers in the Philippines as well as those deployed in Kuwait and Afghanistan. It was hard, but they all had faith. Then Meredith helped cook for all of the well-wishers who stayed after the funeral and visited with the family. Many people stayed late into the evening, and she enjoyed the company, but the pall of Matt’s and Zachary’s absences hung over the room like a deadly fog. No one could concentrate.

After the mourners departed, Meredith went out to her car and changed back into the pair of sandals she had driven down in. There were cups and dishes everywhere, and Karen looked at Meredith, noting her change in footwear, and plopped onto the sofa.

“Thanks, Meredith. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Why don’t you just go to bed,” Meredith said, holding an armful of plates.             

“No. Just leave it. I’ll get it later. I think I’m gonna go sit on the porch for a while,” Karen said in an exhausted voice.

“Okay But I want to help, so just accept the fact that I’m gonna do this,” Meredith said. Karen looked at her and smiled for the first time in days. There was nothing self-serving about Meredith. She was all give and no take. She was just like Karen. Karen walked up the stairs, then came back down.

“Here,” she said, tossing Meredith a pair of blue jeans and an old flannel shirt. “You’ll be more comfortable in these.”

“Thank you, Lord,” Meredith said, looking skyward. “My first prayer of the day has been answered.” The two women laughed, but it was a fleeting moment, gone like a rabbit into the bush. Nonetheless, Meredith changed into the more comfortable clothes, noticing that they fit rather well.

Karen walked onto the porch and sat on the steps while Meredith busily cleaned the rest of the dishes. When Meredith was done putting them away, she walked into the cool mountain air, letting the screen door slam against the door frame. Karen looked up.

“Sorry,” Meredith said.

“No bother. Daddy’s a sound sleeper,” Karen replied. Meredith sat on the steps next to Karen. Two women cut from the same cloth. Neither knew the depths of the Depression or world wars that their parents had experienced, but they recognized that life was polarizing. They maintained a source and sense of idealism, the lure of the majestic Blue Ridge, while having the grit to perform the tasks at hand. They were driven by lofty ideals but not stymied by the idealism.

“What’re you thinking about?” Meredith asked. She could see lights in the small town of Stanards-ville about a mile to the south.

“I want my brothers back,” she said softly, her voice floating into the night. Crickets chimed rhythmically. Two bullfrogs barked at each other in the pond.

“I want them back too,” Meredith said, quietly. She had known Matt for one day, had never met Zachary and yet, strangely, she felt bonded to them. She found Matt to be one of the most interesting people she had met, and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps there was a bit of electricity there when he had woken up and asked her if she was one of the virgins. She smiled at the thought.

They watched the stars blink at them from the heavens and hoped that the Man in charge up there would be good to them. They believed in so many things. They had faith in God. They believed in their country, and they believed that people were basically good.

“Thanks for all your help today. You really made a difference during a difficult time,” Karen said. After a pause, she said, “You see that light just beneath the moon?”

Meredith looked, and said, “I think so.”

“It’s blinking, sort of.”

“Yeah. I see it,” Meredith said, leaning over to gain Karen’s perspective, her hair falling across Karen’s shoulder.

“I read somewhere, can’t remember now, that you could see satellites in the sky. Never believed it, but that doesn’t look like a star, and it sure isn’t an airplane,” Karen said. Meredith didn’t respond. She just watched the dark sky flutter with millions of lights. She looked at Karen, still fixed on the bright moving object. Meredith felt a kinship to her. She was drawn to her strength. A man and a set of circumstances had brought them together.

“You can sleep in Matt’s old room,” Karen said. “You shouldn’t drive back tonight. His old twin bed is still in there.”

“Thanks. That’s sweet,” Meredith said, smiling and remembering her and Matt’s goofy conversation in Palau. It was unusual because Matt had been on heavy doses of morphine and Percocet. Rathburn had briefly joined them poolside and was playing the Rolling Stones’ “Beast of Burden” on his iPod loud enough for them to hear.

“You, okay?” Karen asked.

“Just thinking of Matt for some reason,” Meredith said.

“He’s like that, Matt is. Whatever you do, don’t get hooked on him, he’s trouble.”

Meredith smiled. She could see that in him, but there was something …

“Thanks for the clothes,” she said, as they both stood and walked up the stairs. They hugged one another before retiring to their separate rooms. Meredith was lost in her thoughts, and Karen just needed to sleep.

Sitting on Matt’s old bed, she studied the room. Half of it had an angled ceiling from the A-frame. The other half was flat. Pictures of Zachary and Matt hung on the knotty pine wall. Other than the bed with cowboy-and-Indian sheets, there were three boxes in the room. They stood stacked on the tongue-in-groove floor. She stood and looked in the top box, pulling back the cardboard flap. She saw a manila folder inside, labeled: what is going on?!

She took the folder and sat back on the bed, opening it. Several pages of yellow legal paper were folded so they would fit in the undersized folder. Beneath them was a stapled packet of about fifteen pages, once again labeled: what is going on. Though this time there was no question mark or exclamation point. “Huh,” she said to herself as she began reading.