Steeples

Paul had been at the campsite for a week. The weather stayed dry and relatively comfortable throughout the day and continued that way most of the time he spent at his campsite. He had developed a routine of rising at dawn and riding his bike. Occasionally, he checked on his truck to make sure it was still where he had parked. It was. Paul found that routine helped him cope with the loss of his brother and the confusion he was feeling about Dianne, her parents and even his faith. The small store six miles from where he was camped served hamburgers and hot dogs so Paul ate there when he wanted a hot meal. On one particular day back at his campsite following a ride to the store for supplies, Paul heard the sounds of footsteps moving across the dry, dead leaves that carpeted the floor of the forest. He hid in the prone position several feet from the site with his buck knife and waited for the intruder. The stranger reached the tent, knelt and looked inside. Paul snuck up behind the intruder, grabbed him and held the knife to his throat. “Hold it! Hold it, Paul. It’s me.” Paul recognized the voice. “It’s me. It’s Ace.” Paul released him and let him turn around. It was Ace. “What are you doing here? How’d you find me?” Paul looked as though he was ready to attack. Ace was the last person, other than a certain judge, who Paul wanted to see. “Come on, Atkinson. This is what we do. Or, have you forgotten?” Ace brushed the leaves off his pants from where he was kneeling in front of the tent. “I went by your place and talked to Dianne.” Paul didn’t give Ace the chance to utter another word. He planted a right hook on Ace’s left jaw that sent his former team leader falling backward onto the tent. The flimsy tent didn’t break his fall. Ace’s weight collapsed the tiny structure. He wasn’t ready for the punch, and Paul could deliver one faster than anyone Ace had ever seen fight. He stood back up slowly. Once standing, Ace began rubbing his jaw with his left hand. “Paul, I only went there to get information about your whereabouts. She said she had no idea where you were, that she had been searching for you for over a week. “How was she,” Paul asked. “How’d she look?” Ace was still rubbing his jaw. “You can still punch like you always did.” Paul pulled a hooded sweatshirt from his broken tent. “I took it easy on you, Ace. I thought about breaking your jaw. Now, how’s Dianne?” “She looked very tired. She misses you.” Ace paused. He knelt and picked up a small tree branch off of the ground and began snapping it into small pieces. “Paul, I know about your brother. I’m sorry.” “How’d you find out about my brother? Did Dianne tell you?” Paul slipped the sweatshirt over his head, pushed his arms through the sleeves and pulled the shirt down. “No, Paul, Dianne told me nothing. We’ve been keeping tabs on you for three months.” “Why? Why me? I resigned my commission, the Pentagon accepted the resignation, and I can’t be touched. Why are you watching me?” Paul was ready to launch another attack. “We need you for a mission.” Ace knelt again and picked up another small tree branch. Paul couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What would the Pentagon want from him? Paul had been very clear concerning his desire to leave military service and to never look back. Now, a former team leader stood in front of him with another mission. “How’d you find me here, Ace?” “Easy. I followed the scent of your bankcard being swiped at that store just down the road. I asked the cashier if she had seen your photograph. She hesitated at first, but I assured her that you weren’t in any trouble.” Paul interrupted. “Then what did you tell her?” “The truth, Paul. The truth.” “What happened? Turned over a new leaf?” Paul never really liked Ace and nearly three years after leaving Quantico the feelings hadn’t changed. “You could say that. I simply told her that you are a United States government secret operative and that your country needs you for an important mission. She told me that you came to the store every few days and purchased a few things. She admitted that she, at first, thought it was strange to see someone riding a bike with a backpack, but after seeing you peel off the road and onto the trail while she was driving home one afternoon, she just assumed you were an out-of-towner doing a little camping. I think she’s officially in love with you.” Ace chuckled at his attempt to be humorous. “You must enjoy pain,” Paul responded. Ace rubbed his chin, seemingly reminding himself of the punch he had received just moments earlier. “Listen, Paul. We really do need you for this mission. We feel with your knowledge of the personnel involved and your combat skills you can help us catch these guys before they create a really bad problem for our country.” “What’s the mission?” Paul had no plans on going, but he thought he would at least get the intelligence information on what was actually happening. “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable so we can talk.” Ace began heading for the trail. “We talk here,” Paul insisted. “We talk here, or we don’t talk at all.” “Alright, Paul.” Ace reached inside his jacket and pulled out an envelope. Out of it, he pulled three photographs and showed each one to Paul. “Do you recognize any of these men?” “All of them. They were on our team.” Paul took the pictures from Ace and examined each one. “Correct. They were on the side of America eleven months ago before they joined a little known, highly trained and well-financed home based domestic terrorist organization.