One of the main stories that had shocked Megan to her core involved the burning of a church in Atlanta. A crowd had objected to the pastor’s delivery of a message about the Tribulation, and they’d burned the church to the ground. Thankfully no serious injuries had come of it.
Everyone remained afraid and uncertain, though many people simply tried to bury themselves in their lives as if nothing had happened. They went back to jobs and routines. Megan had seen similar instances at the post. In the end, that wasn’t going to work. Denial never kept bad things from happening.
Megan stood, smoothed her dress, and shoved the legal pad into her tote. She followed the corporal into the major’s office.
“Ah, Mrs. Gander.” Major Francher was a big man and had put on a few extra pounds since drawing the desk assignment, but he appeared dedicated and alert. The fact that he was at his desk before seven thirty said a lot. He waved her to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Please. Have a seat.”
The office definitely belonged to a man. Pictures of past postings, of children involved in sporting activities, and of Francher fishing hung on the walls. Manuals filled the bookshelves, but there were a few paperback thrillers as well.
Megan sat and put her tote beside the chair. “You’re working early today, Major.”
Francher sat and smiled. “I think a lot of us are. I know from several people that you’re burning the candle at both ends these days.”
“And maybe in the middle as well.”
Francher’s smile broadened. “I’d agree with that assessment.” He spread his hands. “So what brings you to me?”
“They tell me that your office is the shortest route to the base commander’s ear.”
Francher leaned back in his chair and looked wary. “Sometimes, I suppose,” he admitted. “Depends on the subject matter.”
“The subject matter,” Megan said, making her voice strong and trying not to think about Goose facing down the Syrian army along with so many other men whose children and families she knew, “is the Ranger unit over in Sanliurfa.”
Francher sighed, and his shoulders bowed slightly. “That’s a tough situation. If you came here to ask us what we’re doing to help those soldiers, we’re doing everything humanly possible.”
“I believe you.”
“It’s just that we’re spread so thin over there now, and there are a lot of problem areas. I don’t have to tell you that a number of countries blame the United States for the disappearances because we’re the last superpower remaining and because we’re known for pushing science when it comes to developing superweapons.”
“No, you don’t,” Megan agreed. “The situation around the globe is complicated. I understand that.”
A puzzled expression filled Francher’s face. “Okay, you’ve stymied me. Maybe I’m more tired than I thought, because I have no clue what you’re here to talk about.”
Megan considered how to lay out what she’d come to say. Deciding how best to do that had consumed her thoughts, and she was nervous that she still didn’t know.
Just put it out there. This is in God’s hands. Let Him do the heavy work.
She cleared her throat and began. “I’ve been in discussions with some of the other base wives, Major, and several of us are in agreement about this matter.”
Francher grinned hesitantly. “Sounds potentially scary already. With everything going on, there aren’t a lot of people agreeing with anybody about anything.”
Megan had thought about the ways she could present what she wanted to say. Different approaches existed, but none of them seemed any less troublesome or more honest than the naked truth. “Those Rangers in Turkey need help,” Megan said.
Start with the undeniable facts. Keep him in safe territory.
“They need support staff. Medical assistance.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but finding people to pick up those duties—”
“You don’t have to find those people,” Megan stated quietly. “We’re already here.”
The major frowned. “I’m not quite following what you’re suggesting.”
“Several of the wives, husbands, and families want to go over there,” Megan said. “To Turkey. To Sanliurfa if possible. As close as you can get us. We want to be with our soldiers. We want to help them survive what’s going on over there so we can get them home.”
Francher leaned back in his chair. He took in a deep breath of air and let it out. Then he flicked his gaze to the ceiling for a moment more before looking back at Megan. “You’re suggesting that the United States Army send civilians into a war zone?”
“Civilians have worked in war zones before,” Megan said. “Volunteers as well as employees. The military remains one of the highest employers of civilians in this country.”
“Those people work on defensible posts, bases, and camps. Not on the battlefield.”
“You’ve got an untapped workforce here at Fort Benning,” Megan said. “Some of the wives and husbands of those soldiers are medical personnel. Some of them have been in the military before. As soldiers. Others are clerks, mechanics, food-service employees, and a dozen other things that the army—and those Rangers—need.”
“No one’s going to just draft those people—”
“You don’t have to draft anyone,” Megan said. “We want to volunteer.” Francher was quiet. “What you’re suggesting is impossible.”
“I disagree.”
“Mrs. Gander—”
Megan cut him off and made her voice harder, more crisp. “Major, right now you’re talking to me. I’m one soldier’s wife. If I go back to the people I’ve been talking to and tell them that you stonewalled me, your office is going to be flooded with people by lunchtime. Do you want that?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. They wanted to come with me. I got them to let me talk to you first. This way you can have a discussion, not an invasion.”
Francher looked slightly overwhelmed. “I appreciate that.”
“Please forgive me for being so blunt, but I need to take back more than your appreciation to them. They’ll want something more concrete.”
“Don’t they realize how dangerous what you’re’re suggesting is?”
“Of course they do. But they believe they’re potentially in as much danger here. And we want to be with our soldiers. With the way things are, no one can be certain we’ll see those soldiers again.” Megan’s voice broke. “Especially not after everything that’s been going on over there yesterday and today.”
“Even if we could put this together, those soldiers …” Francher hesitated. “Well, to be brutally honest, they may not be anywhere we can help them.”
“We’re prepared to grieve, Major,” Megan said. “But we’re also prepared to do something to help those men. We expect the military—we expect this fort—to do something about that. About helping us help them.”
Francher was silent.
“We’re not going to go away,” Megan said. She kept thinking about the footage she’d seen of Goose and Sanliurfa. The need to be over there with Goose and the other soldiers grew stronger with each passing minute. “For the moment, the others have agreed to let me represent them. But if no one listens to me, they’re going to become louder. They’ll keep getting louder until someone listens.”
“But—”
Megan cut him off. “People believe the end of the world is at hand, and they want to be united as families. If it can’t happen here, then they want it to happen there.”
The major sat silent for a moment. “The end of the world.” Those words obviously didn’t come easily to him.
“Yes. It sounds silly when you say it aloud, but there’s no other description that fits. I don’t know what kind of faith you have, or how strong it is, but surely you can feel what’s going on.”
Francher nodded. “I don’t doubt you, Mrs. Gander. I heard about what happened that day in court. I can guarantee you’ve made believers of a lot of people.”
Some of the army chaplains who had opposed her had taken leaves of absence. They’d seen the video footage of Gerry Fletcher disappearing in midair. The story had been told and retold throughout the fort.
“It wasn’t me, Major. God made believers out of those people.”
Francher nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I suppose He did.” He took in a quiet breath and let it out. “I have to be honest with you. Since I heard about that, I’ve been making sure I spend a little more time with my Bible. I make sure my wife and kids do too.” He grimaced. “None of them disappeared. My kids are all older. I don’t know whether to feel relieved that we didn’t lose anyone or scared because we might not all be together … later.”
“If you’re thinking like that, if you turn to God, you won’t have anything to worry about.” Megan knew how much her own perspectives had changed since she’d asked God to come into her life.
“I’m working on believing that. As far as your request goes—”
“We’re being polite,” Megan insisted. “If we wanted to, we could simply book a flight over there. Several of the people I’m talking to want to do that now. I’ve asked them to wait.”
“Why?”
“Because if we’re going to help those soldiers, this needs to be an organized movement. We need supplies and equipment. We need to help them, not become additional worries for them.”
Francher rubbed his stubbled jaw, and his rough palm made a rasping sound. “Mrs. Gander, I appreciate what you—and these other people—are offering, but I don’t think you see the danger you’re suggesting the U.S. Army help bring you into.”
“I do see. So do they. We believe in what we want to do, Major. Very much. Like I said, either the army can help coordinate our arrival over there—and provide us meaningful ways to help our soldiers—or we’re going over there on our own. Either way, we’re not going to stay here when they need us there.”
“The fort also needs many of those people here,” Francher pointed out. “Those support positions you’re wanting to fill over there? Many of them exist here. Stripping this fort of valuable personnel isn’t the answer.”
“We’ll go over in waves,” Megan said. “We’ll train our replacements. The economy’s restructuring. There are people who have lost jobs and now need work.”
“The work you’re doing with the kids on this base is invaluable. If that stopped—”
“It’s not going to stop,” Megan interrupted. “We’re going to transition. Like I said, we’ve talked among ourselves. We know our responsibilities there—and here. We’re not willing to walk away from either.” She paused. “But mark my words, Major. We’re going to go. One way or another, we’re going to go.”
Francher eyed Megan levelly. “I believe you will, Mrs. Gander. I believe you will.”
Downtown Sanliurfa
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 1408 Hours
Alexander Cody sat in the bar of the American Hotel and drank while he watched the television intermittently flash on and off as the signal was interrupted. A few other people sat somberly at the tables and booths, surrounded by pictures of sports and entertainment stars that seemed a lifetime removed from the world they all currently inhabited.
Danielle felt strange spying on Cody, knowing that he was watching a news story that covered their current situation. It was all surreal.
She thought she recognized one of the patrons as a soldier who usually hovered around Remington, but she couldn’t be sure because he was in street clothes. The haircut fit, though. And he watched her as she approached Cody.
She put the other man out of her mind for the moment and focused on the CIA section chief.
“Excuse me,” Danielle said.
Cody didn’t move, but his gaze cut to the big mirror behind the bar. “Miss Vinchenzo.” His voice came out flat and uninviting.
An explosion sounded outside. Danielle grabbed the bar and prepared to hurl herself behind it. When she glanced back at Cody, the man grinned at her.
“Somewhat apprehensive, aren’t you?” he taunted. He tipped his drink and sipped casually. “You’ll never hear the one that gets you. Those missiles travel faster than the speed of sound.”
Danielle ignored the comment. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“As a reporter? Or as a woman?”
“A reporter.”
“Too bad.” Cody sipped his drink and set the glass on the bar. “I’m not currently interested in talking with the press.”
“You’re a CIA section chief.”
Some of the spirit went out of Cody’s smile, but he kept it in place. “Quite an imagination you have there.”
“It’s not my imagination.”
“If you air something like that, you’d better have proof to back it up.”
“When I air it,” Danielle said, “I’ll have proof.”
“Bully for you.” Cody drained his glass and gestured to the bartender to bring another. “Did you just come down here to share conspiracy theories, Miss Vinchenzo? Or did you have something you really wanted to get around to?”
Danielle slid onto the stool next to Cody. She looked at him in the mirror. The bartender approached and asked her if she wanted a drink; she politely refused.
“Marcus Allen,” Danielle stated. “Your guy that shot down the helicopter I was on?”
Cody didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anyone named Marcus Allen, and I don’t know about any helicopter.”