Times of Trouble
a Christian fiction novel
by
Cliff Ball
Smashwords Edition
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PUBLISHED BY:
Cliff Ball
Times of Trouble
a Christian fiction novel
Copyright © 2012 by Cliff Ball
Lewisville, Texas
cliffball@cliffball.net
Visit www.cliffball.net
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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All Scripture quotations taken from King James 1611 Version of The Bible.
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“For yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord so cometh as a thief in the night.”
1 Thessalonians 5:2, King James Bible.
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Times of Trouble
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Chapter 1
My wife, Lynda, was about to give birth to our third child, but she seemed to be having a lot of complications, so I was incredibly worried about her and the baby. For the fourth time in what seemed to be as many days, she said she felt like she was going into labor. We’ve lived in Omaha for the past three years, so now I was taking her back to the hospital to see if my wife was actually in labor.
Doctor Ryan was telling me: “Brian, we’re going to have to induce labor,”
Since I was worried about Lynda anyway, this sent my imagination off on a wild goose chase, and I could imagine all sorts of potential problems. Questions of all sorts ran through my mind, but I asked, “What will that involve? Will it be dangerous?”
“No, it won’t be dangerous; it’ll mostly involve a lot of drugs. Don’t you worry, your wife is safe in our hands.”
“Thanks, Doc.” I went to sit down on a couch, because as incredibly nervous and worried I was about this, the hospital staff decided that my wife shouldn’t feed off of my nerves, because they didn’t want to cause complications to the birth of the baby. I made my wife nervous the other two times she gave birth, which is also why I’ve never seen my other two children born.
In times like these, I tend to reminisce and think about how we’ve come this far. My name is Brian Atwood. I’m thirty-four years old, the middle child of three, married to Lynda, and we have three children, including the one that’s being born. I currently work as a field agent for the FBI in Omaha, after having served as a military policeman in the Air Force at Barksdale Air Force Base in Louisiana. Both of us are originally from a little tiny town in northern Nebraska, closer to Rapid City, South Dakota, than we were to our own state capital. My grandparents moved there right after my grandfather was mustered out of the Army after Vietnam. He wanted to try his hand at farming, which didn’t work out, because he ended up selling John Deere tractors to the farmers in that part of the state.
My parents met at our Baptist church, got married in the same church, and shortly afterwards, the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001, occurred. My dad felt it was his patriotic duty to join the military campaign to rid Afghanistan of the Taliban, which took a whole lot longer than anyone even anticipated, but he came home three years later with a Purple Heart for getting shot up. Fortunately, he was missing no limbs, but did have a problem with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for a few years afterwards. He followed his father into the selling of farm machinery, until he and my mother died in a car wreck four years ago while I was attending classes to be an FBI agent. The business landed in Frank’s, my oldest brothers’ lap, who had worked with my father since he was sixteen. My sister, Melissa, is the youngest. She’s currently living in Dallas, working for the Dallas Mavericks as one of their public relations people.
Lynda’s family settled in Nebraska in 1870, five years after the Civil War, since Nebraska had become a state three years earlier. They dropped stakes, built a couple of buildings, named it Delaney, which is their family name, and began farming. The Delaney’s lived fairly close to Sioux lands, but the Sioux never troubled them, even during the Indian Wars, because the Delaney’s treated the Sioux fairly. The Delaney’s continued to farm through wars and depressions, and even through heavy-handed government regulations. Even now, her brother, Mike, who is the youngest, continues to farm the land, claiming he makes a lot of money off of all those people who still think ethanol is the future of fuel.
My mom and Lynda’s mom were best of friends from the moment they met in school. Her mom met her dad as a teenager, when they were introduced at a church social. Lynda’s parents married after 9/11, and her father was sent to Iraq for combat. He went on four tours of duty, and each time he visited home, nine months later another child was born, Lynda was the third of the four. Unfortunately, her father was one of the last killed two months before the withdrawal of Iraq by the United States military. Lynda’s mom never re-married, and still lives on their family farm. Lynda’s other brother, the second oldest, is Paul, who is in the military. The oldest is Heather, she lives in Colorado, and is the webmaster for Focus on the Family’s website.
My wife and I have known each other all of our lives, since our mothers were best friends. She is a year younger than me, so we never had the same classes together in school, but we always saw each other while waiting for the school bus, at church, and other events around town. Before I left to join the Air Force, I saw her as a good friend, and that’s about it. While I was in the Air Force, she went to Pensacola Christian College in Florida to get a teaching degree so she could teach in Christian schools.
I returned to Delaney after my four years in the Air Force, and Lynda returned to town the same time during a summer break. We laid eyes on each other at church for the first time in four years, and I fell instantly in love with her. Some people think that was just weird, but it’s the truth. She eventually told me she felt the same way when she saw me that first time in years.
The best description I can give of her is that she looks almost like the actress who plays Scarlett in Gone with the Wind, only prettier. She is five-five, chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, tanned because of the Nebraska sun, and is slender. While I’m an introvert, she is an extrovert, and can talk about anything under the sun with no trouble at all. Most people sometimes wonder if I even talk, but she assures everyone that I’m a chatterbox when I’m comfortable with people. She loves children and loves being a teacher.
She claims that I look a lot like that guy who played Greg in that old 1990’s sit-com, Dharma and Greg, and he also played an FBI character in the crime drama Criminal Minds that was on when we were kids. I don’t know about that. While the character and I are both FBI agents, I think the resemblance ends there.
We were married a year later, I was recruited by the FBI, so we moved to Omaha so I could work in the office there. Lately, I’ve heard rumors that the Treasury Department wanted to recruit me to work on the President’s security detail, as a member of the Secret Service. That would be a great opportunity, even though I didn’t vote for the man, but I think I could lay my politics aside to protect a President of the United States. Of course, that’s only a rumor, so nothing may come of it.
While I was waiting for news about the birth, I picked up my Kindle to read one of the novels I recently downloaded. I’ve had this Kindle since I was a kid. I’ve never felt the need to replace it with the smaller ones with the streaming capabilities and all the high tech gadgets that are currently available on it. All I’m doing is reading, so for everything else, I either use my computer or TV.
My nerves had finally settled, when three hours later, Doc Ryan came out, shook hands with me, and said, “Congratulations, Brian, you have a baby boy. There are some problems, however,”
My happiness went to concern in a matter of seconds, “What’s wrong?”
“Your son had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, which is why your wife had false labor a couple of times. He came out blue due to lack of oxygen, but appears fine otherwise. There’s also another issue,”
I knew that babies have died from being choked by their umbilical cord, so I was glad to hear that he was fine, but Doc Ryan saying there’s another issue seemed just as grave. “What is it?”
“He has Down’s Syndrome. He can live a normal life, but you need to know that the United States Health Administration is on the look-out for children that will cost them a lot of money. Normally, I’m supposed to report this, and I know you’re FBI, but they’ve taken way too many children and it needs to stop,”
“The USHA takes kids?” I had never heard that before.
“Yes. Ever since the health care bill became effective in the mid-2010’s, the government has taken newborns they think will cripple our economy. I’m sure the only reason you haven’t heard about it, is because parents are threatened, and there’s a tight control of what’s said online about it. I just thought I’d warn you of that possibility,”
“Thanks, Doc. Will your nurses support your decision?”
“Yes, they feel the same way. Be lucky that you found me as your Doctor. Would you like to see your son now?”
“You bet.”
Doc Ryan led me to my wife’s room, while I thought about his warning to me about the government taking away sickly children. I decided not to tell Lynda for now, because I know how upset she gets with most of the government’s policies, and I really didn’t want her to worry about something that may not even come to pass. Maybe old Doc Ryan was just paranoid.
I walked into my wife’s room to see her beaming with pride and holding our baby. I walked over to her, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and asked, “How are you two?”
“Other than being tired and sore, I’m wonderful. What do you think we should name our son?”
“How about Joshua James, JJ for short?”
“After our dads? I like that idea. I like the fact that we left this as a surprise. Getting a sonogram would’ve left all the fun out of it. Doc, when do we get to take him home?”
“Would tomorrow suit you?”
“Are you sure it wouldn’t harm her?” I asked with worry in my voice.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. This is the wonders of modern medicine; mother and baby get to go home within twenty-four hours. Lynda, we need to let you get some rest, so we’ll put little Joshua here in the nursery and he can get some sleep too. Brian, why don’t you go home and get some rest? You can come back to the hospital bright and early tomorrow to take them home,”
“Can’t I just stay here?” I protested.
“Doctor’s orders. Your wife needs her rest and sleep. If you stayed here with her, she’d probably worry more about you. Go on now.”
I went home only because Doc Ryan insisted on it. I couldn’t get my brain to stop running a thousand miles an hour, so I stayed up past midnight watching old movies from the 1990’s. At eight in the morning, I discovered that I had fallen asleep watching the second Jurassic Park movie. I shaved, took a shower, ate breakfast, and then went back to the hospital to retrieve my wife and son. My other two kids were staying with their grandma back in Delaney, so I didn’t have to worry about feeding them or sending them off to school, even though this was summer vacation. Next week, Lynda and I will drive to Delaney to introduce the family to JJ and bring the kids back to Omaha.
Lynda was dressed and waiting for me when I arrived, and one of the nurses went to the nursery to retrieve JJ. Lynda was told to sit in a wheelchair, since that was hospital regulations, and the three of us left the hospital for home an hour after I had arrived there. I put JJ in the safety seat in the back of my car, and helped Lynda into the front seat. I waved at the hospital staff and Doc Ryan, who were outside watching us leave, and they waved back. I put my car into gear and drove home.
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Chapter 2
It took us a little over three hours to get to the family farm outside of Delaney. Grandma Elizabeth Delaney and our two children, ages four and seven, were waiting for us as we drove up to the Victorian style farmhouse. As we got out of the car, the kids and Elizabeth, who was Lynda’s mom, hugged Lynda and me, and said, “I’m so glad to see you. I bet you’re tired, Lynda.”
“I am, Mom. I’ll go inside to rest, but let me introduce to you your grandson, Joshua James Atwood. Ron and Suzie meet your new brother,” Lynda picked up JJ out of the car and showed him to the three.
“You named him after both grandfathers?” asked Elizabeth.
“Yes Mom, we wanted to honor them both,”
“If they were still alive, I’m sure they would be honored,”
“By the way, where are Mike and Traci?” Traci was Mike’s wife, they had only been married two years, and she helped Mike run the Delaney family farm.
“Oh, they’re in town getting supplies for the party we’re going to have for you and little Joshua tomorrow. They left an hour ago, so they should be back any minute. A lot of people are eager to meet the newest member of the family. Come on, let’s all go inside.” Elizabeth had us all go into the house, but told Lynda to go ahead and go to the bedroom to rest, taking JJ with her, while the kids and I would sit down to watch TV. Elizabeth said she had some cookies and other treats cooking in the oven, so she went back to the kitchen to check up on them.
“Daddy, can we play with JJ?” asked Suzie, who’s four.
“No, silly, he ain’t a doll,” remarked seven-year-old Ron.
“Ron, be nice to your sister.”
“Ok Daddy.”
“Sorry, pumpkin, but JJ is too little to be played with. He also has some special issues, so when he’s a little older, you’ll have to be careful when playing with him. Do you understand?” Her head bounced up and down, indicating that she was saying yes. Then, I asked them, “So, what have ya’ll been doin’ with grandma, Uncle Mike, and Aunt Traci?”
“We got to ride the horsies again, Daddy,”
“Really? Did you have fun?”
“Yeah! I got to ride a black and white horsie that grandma said was a baby horsie. Ron got to ride a grown-up horsie. It was black.”
“Ron, did you have fun?”
“Yup. Uncle Mike led us to that river that’s near here and then we had a picnic. We even got to go swimming, while Uncle Mike tried to fish. He didn’t catch anything though,”
“Did you do anything else?”
“Um….we got to go up in a hot air balloon once, but I don’t ‘member how long ago that was.” Ron said, with a scrunched up face, trying to remember how long ago they went in a hot air balloon.
“Wow. It wasn’t scary was it?”
“Naw. Suzie was kinda a scaredy cat at first, but then she wasn’t a scaredy cat no more. We got to see the town and farmland and even mountains from way up there. I had fun!”
“Have you met any of the kids from town?”
“Well…. we played with some kids at church, but I don’t ‘member if we saw them after that. We did get to see a movie on a big, huge screen though,”
“What did you see?”
“I think Grandma said it was a movie that was made before you were born, Daddy. It was called Toy Story. The graphics were kinda lame, but I thought it was a good movie. Suzie thought it was the bestest movie ever, but she’s just a kid. But, we missed you and Mommy real bad. When are we gonna go home?”
Then both of my kids came over and hugged me, so I hugged them back, and said, “I missed you too. We’re going to go home in a couple of days, and then you’ll get to see your friends who are back there.” then Grandma called us into the kitchen for some fresh baked cookies.
The next afternoon, our friends, family, and neighbors who could come, arrived at the house to meet the newest member of our family. While the women were cooing and fawning over JJ and the kids were playing, the husbands went outside to talk about world events. Since I’m an FBI field agent, I can’t exactly reveal classified information, but I can still talk about stuff that everyone else knows. Mike began, “I hear tell that our government wants us exclusively on ethanol soon. The events in the Middle East are creating problems for the oil producers,”
“The government has been saying that about the Middle East and oil since before some of you were born. So far, none of this talk of trouble has really come to pass. Sure, Iran has blustered about using nukes since the early 2000’s, but they never have. Plus, you know that The Bible says that there will always wars and rumors of war, so this is just another rumor in another long line of rumors. I don’t think we should get all worked up gentlemen.” remarked Pastor Justin Hammond of the Delaney Independent Baptist Church, which most of the people who came to this party attended every Sunday and Wednesday.
He was nearing retirement age, but kept the congregation from going off the deep end like some Baptist churches have done over the last few decades. We continue to sing the old Gospel hymns from our hymnals, we still use the 1611 King James Version of The Bible, and the few visitors the church did get (since it is a small town after all), would never get the impression that they were attending a rock concert. Pastor Hammond preached in meat and potatoes style, or fire and brimstone to some, which is to say that he preached to a lot of older in spirit Christians who didn’t need all that pap about their best life or whatever that some mega-church pastors preached.
Having been in the Air Force myself, I never felt like I grew as Christians at those churches. In fact, I felt like I had regressed. In Omaha, my family attends a church that has the combination of the two. The first service is for us traditional folks who want our spirits refreshed and the other service is for the people who need their fleshly tastes, mostly in music, satisfied. My mom used to say that our family probably could’ve fit right in at churches run by Jonathan Edwards, Cotton Mather, or even the Amish and Mennonites.
While I was letting my mind wander, the men continued to talk, and I finally focused back on what they were saying. Mike was talking, “Well, if we do have a war, this farm by itself could take care of a lot of people in this area if we lose electricity. I would start plantin’ wheat in the field that I don’t use now, but the government would throw a fit, so I can’t do that without bein’ heavily fined. Back in our shed, we still have old-fashioned plows, and even a couple of very old International tractors that run on steam, so we could do it, if the need arises,”
“Could you convert all of this corn into fuel if you had to?” asked Mr. Meyer, an older man who owned some land himself twenty miles from the Delaney’s.
“You’re kidding, right? Nobody in this family has ever made moonshine, so do you think we have a big ol’ still out in the barn somewhere?”
“Well, no, as a matter of fact, but I know some folks in town who could help you convert it to what the government calls ethanol. Most of our machines can run on it, but I was just wonderin’ if the farms around here that grow corn could produce enough to last for a few years?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea, Mr. Meyer. Most of the farms around here are owned by major corporations, so we’d have to find that out if a crisis ever occurred. The foremen of those corporate farms might not be open to the idea of letting a bunch of local townspeople be the only ones to run our machines off of their potential profits. Luckily, if a crisis did occur, the major cities are too far away for a mass of city people to descend on these lands and strip the land bare. I’d rather they all cannibalize each other,”
All the men laughed.
“That’s just so funny, Mike,” I said.
“Well, I thought it was,” he sheepishly said.
“You know, you read far too much post-apocalyptic fiction,”
“That may be true, but I can see where the authors are getting their ideas. Sometimes, I think the Mormons have it right…”
“Mormons have what right?” interrupted Pastor Hammond.
“Uh… they prepare for disasters by havin’ root cellars and closets full of food and emergency supplies, that’s all I was saying,”
“Got it. I was hoping you weren’t planning on converting, or something.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t do that, Pastor. But, don’t you guys think havin’ a disaster kit ready is a very good idea?”
“It may be a good idea, but my fellow agents in the FBI would get alerted to too many big purchases of certain kinds of supplies you would need for disaster readiness. I don’t want any of you to be arrested for suspected terrorism just because you were preparing for a possible disaster. It’s a fine line we walk, my friends, because you wouldn’t believe just how paranoid our government is. Remember to be careful, got it?”
The men indicated they understood, and we continued to talk about politics, sports, and agriculture prices. Hours later, Grandma Delaney told everyone to go home, since Lynda and JJ needed their rest. When we were alone in bed after this somewhat very long day, I asked Lynda, “Did you have fun today?”
“Totally. It was great to see all of our old friends, and to hear all of the gossip going on in town. I miss living here, Brian. I wish we could move back and raise our children here.”
“I wish we could too, but we need our jobs. You would have to home school our kids if we lived here, but at least you have a Christian school that you can teach at in Omaha. I personally can’t see being a County Sheriff or the town’s Police Chief, because being an FBI agent has so much variety to it, and the most important detail of all, I get paid really well to do it. Maybe when we retire?”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m really too tired to talk about this right now, so I really want to go to sleep. Love ya.” then we kissed, she turned off the light on her nightstand, and almost instantly fell asleep.
“Love you too.” I turned off my nightstand light and I fell asleep an hour or two later.
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Chapter 3
We came back home a week later, and I still had three more days off. As I was about to settle down to read, my cell phone rang; it was Doc Ryan. “How can I help you, Doc?”
“I think you’re going to have a problem soon,” said Doc Ryan, direct to the point as always.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just had a visit from the Health Administration. They weren’t happy at all. I think they’re on their way to your house to speak to you,”
“What did they say?”
I listened as he recounted the events: A man and woman walked into my office, went directly to my receptionist, and the man demanded, “We’d like to see a Doctor Jon Ryan. The sooner the better,”
“Do you have an appointment?” my receptionist, Vickie, asked.
“We’re the government, we don’t need an appointment. Where is he?” the woman demanded.
“Ok, ok, let me go get him. I believe he’s with a patient. Wait here,”
“I think we’ll go with you. Lead the way.”
I was with one of my patients, who was suffering from a severe flu virus, and I was about to prescribe them some medication, when Vickie and the two agents barged in. “What’s going on here?” I demanded.
“Sorry, Doctor, but these two want to see you, and they’re from the government.”
“Ah, I see. Vickie, please take care of this patient. Would you two please follow me?”
Once we were back in my office, the woman began before I even had a chance to sit down, “We’re with the Health Administration. We have some questions for you. It seems some of your paperwork regarding some of your pregnant patients has yet to be filed. We were wondering what the delay was,”
“I file the paperwork that the government tells me to file. I have no control over what happens after that. Perhaps the files were lost in the massive government bureaucracy,”
“Perhaps, but we still demand to know why some of your patients have very little records of their pregnancies and the health of their fetuses. I have with me a couple of records we’d like to show you, and then you can explain to us about why the paperwork is missing. Perhaps you should tell your receptionist to take a break,” ordered the man.
“Uh, right.” I got up, went to speak to my receptionist, and told her to tell any patients that would be arriving that there would be a slight delay. I returned to my office, sat back down, and said, “All right, I took care of it,”
“Do you know a Lynda Delaney?”
“Of course I do. I’m currently their family doctor,”
“Are you aware that there is almost no record of the health of her fetus, whether there are any genetic anomalies, and that we only heard about her giving birth a few days ago? Can you explain?”
“I filed all of the proper paperwork involving the Delaney child. I can’t help it if got lost somewhere along the way,”
“How come we never received the results from her amniocentesis?”
“I think she was sick that week, but she never re-scheduled the appointment. I can’t force people to keep track of everything, you know,”
“Perhaps you could have paid her a home visit,” replied the man.
“First off, I’m far too busy to pay anyone a home visit. Secondly, the government doesn’t pay me enough to take time out of my day to conduct home visits. Maybe if you Washington types would get out of Washington more often, maybe you could understand that,”
“Now, now, Doctor, no need for hostility. You understand that we will have to investigate whether you get to keep your license to practice medicine, and you may be asked to retire from this profession. Your life would be so much easier if you cooperated with us. Understood?” the woman stated.
“I shook my head in an affirmative motion, and did my best to cooperate with them. They demanded the addresses of the dozen or so women who had supposedly lost paperwork. That’s where you come in, Brian, they should be on their way to your house any minute to demand answers from you. I’m sorry, I did my best,” Doc Ryan said to me.
“That’s perfectly all right, Doc. I will be prepared for the visit. I’m sorry you got into trouble,”
“Don’t worry about me, this was going to happen eventually. Good luck when you meet with them. Hopefully, I’ll see you and your family later.” Doc Ryan hung up.
Lynda was taking care of JJ, when I walked into the bedroom, and said, “We’re going to have some trouble soon,”
“What’s wrong?” she asked with a worried tone to her voice.
“The Health Administration just visited Doc Ryan, now they plan on paying a visit to us. They’re going to demand answers,”
“Demand answers for what?”
“We were supposed to check for genetic abnormalities while you were pregnant, and if we found anything, the child was supposed to be aborted. They’ll ask us why we didn’t and then they’ll want to take him away,”
“Can they do that?”
“Unfortunately, they can. Are you up to facing them?”
“I’ll do my best,”
“If you want, take the kids and go shopping or go to the park. But, that’s up to you.”
“I’ll stay. We need to show the government we aren’t afraid of their stupid policies or their goose-stepping goons.” she said, defiantly.
Nearly two hours later, our door bell rang. Both of us said a little prayer a few minutes earlier to steel us for the possible verbal assault we would probably be getting from the Health Administration agents. I opened the door to find the man and woman that Doc Ryan described standing at my door. Their general presence was disturbing to me, there was something dark about them, and I instantly felt uncomfortable being near them.
“Are you Brian and Lynda Atwood?” the woman asked.
“Yes ma’am. You must be from the Health Administration. Would you please come inside?”
“So you were told about our coming. That always seems to happen. Do not think that being prepared will alter our decision one bit. We demand answers,” the man said in a rather rude tone as they sat down on our couch. They didn’t bother giving us their names.
“What answers do you seek?” asked Lynda.
“We demand to know why you didn’t inform us about your child’s condition. There are procedures to follow, and we will not have people usurping our authority. What excuses do you present us?” the woman demanded.
“Can you be more specific?” I asked.
“Your child has Down’s Syndrome. This is why the government requires an amniocentesis during the first trimester, to filter out potential problems to the stability of our health care system. Why did you not have it aborted?”
“We were going to keep our child, no matter what happened. I felt that submitting to an amniocentesis was against my religious beliefs. We do not abort children,” replied Lynda through gritted teeth.
“You religious types think you can just do what you want, in spite of government regulations. If it weren’t for the Amish, Mennonite, Mormon, and other fringe groups like yourselves, our genetic pool wouldn’t be polluted with genetic mistakes. Due to your attitudes, we have to pay for these problems throughout their lives. We have to give them long-term health care, pay for specialized schooling, and even hospice care when their old and gray. They do nothing to add to the overall condition of their fellow man. We could have done something immediately if you had done what was required, but this mistake will now take years to correct. If you so-called True Believers were out of the way, the overall condition of America would greatly improve. But, we do not make those laws, in spite of our best efforts.
“We will give you a month to prepare before we take your child to a specialized government health facility in Washington that you can visit for a while when you have a chance, but your son will be weaned off from seeing you. You may work for the FBI, Mr. Atwood, but that fact doesn’t exclude you from ignoring the law. We will inform your superiors of this transgression, you can be sure of that. Take care, Atwoods, you will be watched closely for the next month. Now, we must go.”
As the two were walking to the door, my wife began to sob, but was also very angry at the same time, “You can’t do this!”
“Oh, but we can. We are the government; we can do what we want.”
I slammed the door as they walked out, and the feeling of being uncomfortable, along with the general dark atmosphere surrounding them, evaporated as they moved further away from the house. Lynda hugged me, and started crying, “They can’t, they just can’t.”
“They shouldn’t, but they have the power. I wish I could do something about it at work,”
“If you do that, won’t the FBI fire you? Didn’t they just threaten to take your job away from you? I don’t want you to get fired,”
“That was nothing but intimidation. The USHA people won’t really go to my superiors, and I won’t get fired. I’ll see what I can do though. We should pray about it,”
“Ok.”
“Dear Heavenly Father, we come to you in this time of trouble to ask that if we can’t raise our son ourselves so that he may follow you, and please protect him. Please provide him with people who will look after him and keep him from harm. I also pray that someday he’s returned to us safe and sound. Please help Lynda and I not to be consumed with anger, and please help us to raise our other two in the way they should go. Thank you Lord for listening to our prayer. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
The next day I went to see Doc Ryan to see if there was any possible way of dealing with the Health Administration, since he probably dealt with them all the time. I approached the door to his office in a medical complex, only to notice the name plate was not on the door, so I opened it. When I walked in, the place was deserted, and emptied of patient records and some vital equipment. It was as if no one had ever even worked in the office. So, I went next door to the office of an optometrist. At the receptionist’s desk, I asked, “What happened to Doctor Ryan?”
“He was visited by USHA yesterday. That’s never a good sign,”
“I knew they visited him yesterday, he called me to warn me about a visit to my home from them. But, why is a visit from them not a good sign for a doctor?”
“Well, it means you did something very wrong if they send people out to talk to you. Doc Ryan probably disappeared or was terminated by USHA,”
“I see…” I left the idea that he was terminated hang in the air, not liking the implication of that idea, since I really didn’t want my imagination to run away with me. “Will they replace him and his staff?”
“It’s likely. Probably with a more compliant physician who has no problems taking orders. While you’re here, would you like a check-up of your eyes?”
“Thanks, but no. I have to go now. Thank you for your time.” I left, went home, and informed Lynda about this unfortunate news. She really did not take the news well at all.
******
Chapter 4
I went back to work two days later. My job mostly consisted of monitoring the internet for keywords that related to terrorism being searched for on the search engines. I would tag the searches, and then I would investigate the IP addresses for possible visitation to the home address by the FBI. Occasionally we did actual field work. The last major one dealt with a terrorist threat against Offutt Air Force Base, which is the headquarters to the U.S. Strategic Command. I was the one who connected the dots and stopped what would have been the biggest terrorist attack on a military base since Major Nadal Hassan’s attack on Fort Hood back in the 2010’s. My boss, Luke Anderson, recommended me to the Secret Service because of my excellent work, but that was nearly a year ago, and I hadn’t heard a thing.
An hour after I got to work, my boss called me in to his office. When I opened the door, he was looking at some paperwork, so I asked, “What’s up?”
“Hey Brian, good to see you back. How’s the wife and new child?”
“Good. Unfortunately, we were visited by USHA,”
“Ouch. That’s never a good sign. How come?”
“Our child has Down’s Syndrome. USHA claims that we violated several health care laws, so now they are going to take him away at the end of the month. I’m wondering if the FBI can do anything about it?”
“I’m sorry to hear that. No, the FBI can’t do anything, but I wish we could. When I worked for the Douglas County Sheriff’s department, we got called out a lot when parents objected to the heavy-handedness of USHA. USHA always won the argument. Once they were given power, they kept taking more and more, so now they’re practically as powerful as DOJ. I don’t think Congress realized what they were creating back in the 2010’s. Anyway, you must be wondering what I called you in here for. Am I right?”
“The thought did cross my mind, sir,”
“You remember that I recommended you to the Secret Service, right?”
“Of course,”
“Well, I was just informed that you were accepted. While I don’t know the details of what you’ll be doing, they want you in Washington by the first day of July. You’ll report to a Xavier Doolittle at the White House, who is the overall boss of the agents who serve the President. Congratulations!”
I was overcome with joy. July was a month and a half from now, and little JJ was going to be housed in a government facility in Washington, so we’d probably get to see him a lot. I think Lynda will be more than thrilled by this news. Thank you Lord!
I must’ve been deep in my own thoughts for a few minutes, because Anderson asked, “Anything wrong?”
“No, not at all. I’m just really excited, filled with joy, and thanking the Lord for all of my blessings,”
“Brian, that’s great, but I need to give you a little piece of advice. The President doesn’t care for or like Christians, so you’ll have to tone it down a lot when you’re around him. Also, don’t bet on USHA letting you see your new son just because you’re even closer, they’ll actively discourage it, and they would probably push to get you fired if you get obnoxious about it. I recommended you because I think you’ll be a great agent for the Service, so don’t let me down. Got it?”
“Got it. Mind if I go home to tell my family?”
“Sure, but get back here as soon as you can, you still have work to do.”
“Will do.” He handed me the file with the information about who I should report to in Washington, and I went home to tell my family the news.
When I walked in the front door, Suzie saw me first, “Daddy’s home!”
“Hi, pumpkin! How are you?”
“I’m fine, Daddy. I’m helping Mommy take care of JJ,”
“Where’s your brother?”
“I think he’s playing with his friends, but I don’t know for sure.”
Lynda appeared with a questioning look on her face while holding little JJ in her arms, so I said, “I have some great news, but I’d like to have our entire family hear it. Where’s Ron?”
“He’s next door, playing video games with his friends. I’ll call him.”
Lynda retrieved her cell, called our son, told him to come home immediately, and within five minutes he ran into the house, asking, “Am I in trouble?”
I laughed, “No, but should you be?”
He scratched his head, thought about it for a minute, and said, “I don’t think so, Daddy.”
“I’m kidding you, kiddo. What I wanted all of you to know is that we’re moving to Washington, D.C. I was approved for a transfer to the Secret Service,”
“That’s great! We’ll get to see JJ even more. When do we have to be there?” asked Lynda, who looked happier than she had in days.
“We have to be there by the end of June, and I start work the first week of July. I have the information right here. Do you think we can be prepared to move before then?”
“I bet we can be. We can get our siblings to help us pack and move, while mom can help me take care of JJ. You’ll have to file paperwork with the TSA before we make a car trip of more than five hundred miles, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s another government agency I’d like to get rid of. I’ll get that all taken care before we leave. I’ve got to get back to work though,”
“Daddy, does this mean I won’t get to see my friends no more?” asked Ron, who was looking a little sad.
“I’m afraid so. But, you’ll get to make new friends where we’re going, and you can still e-mail your friends here. It won’t be that bad. It’ll be an adventure. You like adventures don’t you?”
“I guess so.” he shrugged his shoulders.
I kissed him and Suzie on the forehead, and then kissed Lynda as I went back to work. I was hoping that this news was a prayer being answered about being able to see JJ even more when we moved to Washington.
Unfortunately, when the end of this month came, the agents from USHA re-appeared, and had local law enforcement as back-up in case there would be trouble. While we were understandably upset, they would get no trouble from us. However, the four of us cried as we watched JJ being taken away, but we were all hopeful that we’d see him again. In the meantime, we still had to make preparations to move, which included help from a couple of our siblings.
******
Chapter 5
The last week of June, we moved. We traveled fifteen hundred miles from Omaha to Arlington, Virginia, in four days. It took us that long because Lynda and I wanted to visit cities, like Chicago and Philadelphia, since we had never been to those cities before, and we weren’t sure we’d ever be able to visit them again. Plus, we had two little ones who had a hard time going more than two hours without a bathroom break, so we made a lot of stops along the way. The U-Haul was driven by my brother, Frank, who was accompanied by his wife, Mary, and their two teenage sons, Frank Jr. and Jimmy. They were going to help us move into the house, and then they would drive back to Omaha.
The house we were going to be living in was rented out to Secret Service agents and their families by the government. Having seen pictures of the house, it was bigger than any house I had ever lived in. This house had six bedrooms, a two car garage, a pool, four bathrooms, two stories, a living room and den, an office, a kitchen that was bigger than our old house’s kitchen and the Delaney family farm kitchen combined. Even though the house was a rental, we still had to furnish it ourselves, which is why we brought everything. Lynda and I hoped and prayed that we would enjoy living there while I worked for the White House.
We arrived at the house in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday. The day was sunny, with no clouds in the sky, and the temperature felt like it was in the mid-80’s. We got out of the car to see a beautiful home on the outside, with a really green lawn, a lot of trees surrounding the property, while the house itself was brick, and I think it was what people called Colonial style.
“What do you think?” I asked Lynda.
“I think it’s a beautiful house. I’ve always wanted to live in a Colonial style home. Let’s go in.”
Lynda took my hand and the kids followed us as we went to the front door, I unlocked the door, and led everyone inside. “Wow! This place is huge!” exclaimed Ron.
“Yeah it is. Why don’t you take Suzie upstairs and pick out your rooms?”
“Ok, Daddy. Suzie, last one up the stairs is a rotten egg!” Suzie ran after Ron as they made their way up the stairs to look for the rooms. Ron was a little too excited, because he tripped, Suzie overtook him, and she ended up the first one to make it all the way up.
“Ronnie, you’re a rotten egg!” then she stuck her tongue out at him, and ran to the nearest room.
Frank and Mary came in, and looked to be in awe of the place. So I said, “Frank, let’s get to work bringing everything in. Our wives can explore the house,”
“Don’t overdo it, Frank,” Mary ordered.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, that’s why we’ve got two teenage boys to do most of the work,” he laughed.
“I’m serious. You know what the Doctor said about your heart.”
“Yes, dear.” he replied, as he walked out the door, followed by me.
The boys were already unloading the U-Haul, but their dad said, “Junior and Jimmy, why don’t you take all of this stuff inside? Your uncle and I can unload the truck, and then you two can bring everything in the house.”
“Ok, dad.” they both said, while Jimmy rolled his eyes, clearly not happy with the new arrangements.
It took us three hours to bring everything into the house, and another two just to put everything in their proper places. We obviously didn’t have enough furniture to fill each room, but I didn’t know how long I’d have this assignment, so I asked Lynda, “Do you think we should buy more furniture?”
“I’d like to, but then we’d have to sell it once your assignment to the Secret Service ends, since we’d probably have to go back to Nebraska. I don’t want to waste our money.”
“Ok, I agree with you. Shouldn’t we have one of the extra rooms furnished in case we have family stay over?” I asked.
“I’ll work on that when we’re completely unpacked. Let me worry about that, ok?” she kissed me.
On Monday, I drove to the White House with the instructions on what I was supposed to do sitting on the passenger seat in a manila folder. Lynda decided to home school our kids until we found a church to go to that also had a Christian school as part of their ministry. In the meantime, she was still unpacking our things.
As I drove up to the gates of the White House, I discovered that it was very heavily guarded, more than I had ever seen before. I had visited Washington when I was in the Air Force about fifteen years ago and I don’t recall seeing such a heavy military presence. We’ve had three Presidents since then, and I don’t think I heard about this particular development on the news. I presented my credentials to the guard at the gate, who said, “There’s a parking garage down the street for Secret Service agents and other White House staff. Once you park, there’s an underground tunnel that you follow, which will lead to the employee entrance of the White House. Got it?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know, sorry,”
“Now you do, buddy,”
“You don’t need to be rude.”
The guard shrugged.
I turned my car around and headed for the parking garage down the street. I used my current FBI badge to get the automated gate arms to rise so I could go in and park my car. I found a place to park after about ten minutes of searching for an empty parking spot. I got out, saw the elevator to the basement level that would take me to the underground tunnel, so I walked over to it, and got in. At the basement level, I was greeted by a Marine, who apparently was guarding the underground entrance to the White House.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes you can. I’m new here. Can you direct me to Director Doolittle’s office?”
The Marine directed me to a map of the White House, and showed me which route to take to reach Doolittle’s office. I found Doolittle’s office fifteen minutes later, so I walked in, and was greeted by his secretary, “How may I help you?”
“I’m Brian Atwood, a new Secret Service agent assigned to the White House. I was told to meet with Director Doolittle when I got here.”
“Ah, yes, he’s been expecting you. I’ll inform him you’re here.”
The secretary buzzed the Director on the office intercom, she told him that I had arrived, so he told her to let me go ahead and come into the office. I went in, where Doolittle stood up from his desk, walked over to me, shook my hand, and said, “Good to see the man behind the credentials, Brian. How was the move down here?”
“Thank you, sir. Our move went off without a hitch. I’m excited to be here and look forward to working with you and the President,”
“Good to hear. Your boss in Omaha gave you an outstanding recommendation. He thinks highly of you, and thought you would make a good addition to our ranks. I’m sure you’re wondering what you’ll be doing,”
“Yes sir, I’ve wondered a time or two,”
“Your primary job will be personal security for President Collins. Whenever he’s on the road, you will go with him. This includes campaign stops, visits to foreign countries, golf outings, wherever he goes, you go. When he isn’t going anywhere, you screen his visitors and conduct background checks on potential visitors. Does this sound like something you can handle and are willing to do?”
“Yes sir, I can handle this assignment. I’m looking forward to the opportunity to protect the President. When do I begin?”
“You may think protecting this President is a great opportunity, but in the last three years, there has been a revolving door of Agents who didn’t last long as his personal security. Collins can be… difficult. You will need to be of strong character to deal with him. This is why we chose you. Everyone you have ever worked with has said that you are a strong man of faith. You have a good character and will not back down when push comes to shove. However, I’m sure you’ve heard Collins doesn’t like Christians, so if he bothers to engage you in personal conversation, don’t bring it up. Understood?”
“I understand. What do I need to do now?” I had a flicker of doubt about this, but decided that I could handle Collins. How hard could it be?
“The next thing you need to do is to see Chief of Staff Charles Teague. He will give you the President’s full itinerary and a brief tutorial of your secondary duties. Once that’s accomplished, I’m sure he’ll introduce you to the President. Thank you for accepting the position.” he shook my hand again, I left the office, and headed for the Chief of Staff’s office.
I was introduced to Chief of Staff Teague. He was a middle aged man, had a beard, a mostly bald head, and was quite overweight. He looked tired. He also smoked, which was something I hadn’t seen anyone do in over twenty years. In fact, I thought cigarettes were banned in this country, but since this man is in a position of power, he could probably do whatever he wanted.
“Mr. Teague, I’m Brian Atwood. I was told that I’m the President’s new personal security man,”
“Yes, you are. I’m sure Doolittle has told you the basics of what the job entails?” I acknowledged that he had. “Good. Whenever the President leaves, you go with him. Whatever the President needs done that requires a sensitive nature, you will be doing it. I will give you the rest of the day to study the itinerary and the manual for the details involving all of your secondary duties. Your office will be next to the President’s, and you will meet him later. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
I was shown to the office I would be working in. The room was small, but had a desk, a computer, an intercom linked to the President’s office, a chair in the corner, but other than that, was rather spartan. I sat down at the desk, began to study the itinerary, and then the one hundred plus page manual that detailed what my secondary duties would be. I hoped that I could eventually ask the President about getting my son back, but that would be in the future, in the meantime, I had studying to do.
Later that day, at home, I told my wife what I would be doing. She appeared to have a sad, sickly look to her eyes for an instant, and I began to become really concerned over that sickly look, but then she said, “This will be a great opportunity to get JJ back. If you talk to the President about our situation, maybe he’ll let us see him more than once a month before they stop letting us see him. It’s killing me that I can’t see him all day every day. I hate how the government has ruined our lives,”
“I know you do. I will try to ask the President when I have known him a little bit longer, but you need to be patient. It’ll be all right.”
She started crying again. I’ve lost track how often she has cried, and it kills me that I can’t do anything yet. Maybe visiting JJ will do both of us some good, so I said, “Let’s you and I go see JJ.”
We went to see our son at the address given to us by USHA. The people in charge weren’t exactly happy to see us, but they reluctantly let us see JJ. JJ appeared to be taken care of, but it was hard to not want to take him home with us. Lynda was crying as she held him, and I tried to comfort her, but it didn’t seem to work.
“I wish we could raise him up to be a proper Christian, in a proper Christian environment. Why is this happening?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But, remember that all things work together for good to those that love God,”
“In my heart I believe that, but my mind is at war with my heart. Brian, do you really think we can get JJ back?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I believe we will get him back. All we have to do is trust the Lord, and it’ll all work out in the end.”
“I sure hope so.”
After an hour, we were told that our visit was over, and we could come back in a month. So, I scheduled an appointment for next month to see our son. When we got home, Lynda looked really tired, so she went to bed. I decided to go downstairs to read my Bible in the den, so I could try to take comfort in God’s words, since I tend to not pray as often as I should or read my Bible as often as I should.
******
Chapter 6
It would be four days before Teague introduced me to the President, David Nelson Collins. He was born in Florida, his mother died in childbirth, so he was raised in an orphanage until he was ten years old, where he was adopted by a powerful political family of Democrats in Florida. He had risen quickly in the Florida political ranks, and then was elected President at the age of 40. He went to Harvard, is single, and that’s about the only thing I currently know about him. He is a tall man, about six-six, has dark brown hair, brown eyes, has a slightly darker complexion than me, and there’s just something dark about him. I say that because he looks angry, his body language seems angry, and I don’t feel at all comfortable around him, as if God is giving me the discernment to see what kind of man President Collins is. Even his handshake gave me the shivers.
“Mr. President, this is your new personal security agent, Brian Atwood. He comes highly recommended by his FBI boss back in Nebraska,”