It was a long four-hour drive back to their cave. During the drive Liam explained everything, from his very first dreamcast aboard the pirate ship, to the treachery of that knave, Smith, to their narrow escape from both Smith's house and Gran's safe house. He told of their Highland retreat into the mountains of Virginia. He explained their reason for "inviting" him, the President, to meet with them and to learn how various agents — possibly whole departments and/or agencies under his control but sympathetic to a 'New Order' of things — had conspired against him and the nation, indeed, the whole world.
As the car stopped, where it and the others were hid from view in a wooded grove all the many months the "army" had been encamped. Another, containing Del, Carroll, Drew and Scott pulled up along side of them. Everyone alit, except the President, who remained seated in the back seat.
Liam bent over, putting his head inside the car and said, "Welcome to our humble home."
The President looked up, his eyes somewhat unfocused. He had been mulling over everything he had been hearing and couldn't bring himself to believe any of it. He realized the car had stopped. He looked around and saw they were in the country. Pulling himself together, he got out, stood tall, and addressed Liam.
"Young man, that has to be the biggest crock of crap I've ever heard. Do you really expect me to believe one word of it?"
"I was rather hoping you would. Okay then, how do you account for the bulletin on the radio?"
"Easy, that's a cover story given to the media. It's better to say I'm ill than to say I'm missing!"
"How'd we get you out of the White House?"
"I don't know...mass hypnosis? Some kind of 'stun' gas? You tell me."
"I already told you, but you don't believe. You told me the Secret Service knows where you are 24/7. I assume you have some kind of GPS, or something, on or implanted in you...like a chip or something. Am I right?"
"Something like that, yes. Not that you'll ever find what, unless you have a state-of-the-art laboratory hidden in this cave you say you live in."
No, we don't. Just the same, how do you account for the fact that your people didn't find and stop us before we'd even left D.C.?"
"I can't. There must have been a glitch in the system. Either that or you've got some kind of device in that car, that scrambled or jammed the signal."
"No, there isn't. But for the sake of debate, let's say there is. Now, you are not in the car. You are outdoors, nothing electronic anywhere near you. Do you think you are now locatable?"
"You bet! Within the hour, this place will be assaulted by land and by air, and you'll be arrested. All of you," the President barked, confidently. "I'm not moving an inch. I'm going to plant my keister right were it is," he said defiantly as he sat down where he stood.
"Suit you" Liam told him, with resignation. "I'm tired, and I'm hungry. You'll pardon me if I go get something to eat. Can I bring you anything?"
"No, thank you. I don't think I'll be here much longer."
As he turned to leave, he stopped and looked at the leader of the most powerful nation on earth sitting on his backside, looking decidedly more like a petulant child than the man he thought he was. Liam sighed, "If that's what you think...but if, in a couple of hours, they don't show up as you think they will, would you be willing to concede maybe you're wrong, and that I've been telling the truth?"
"If I'm still here an hour from now...well, you'll see."
"Well, one of us will be surprised, that's for sure!" Liam chuckled. As he began walking away, he said over his shoulder, "It will be dark soon, and the nights get a bit nippy out here in the mountains when the sun sets. I'm leaving two friends with you, so you don't wonder off in unfamiliar settings. Wouldn't want you getting lost or anything. If you get cold, they'll show you where we are. We've a nice fire and plenty of hot food."
The President looked up and saw two men taking position, one on either side of him, not ten yards from him. He didn't care, he had no intention of moving. He wanted to be found.
The sun had set and the air was getting chilly. Half the day had passed and still no rescue. He was more than a little surprised at that, and he was even angrier that he hadn't been. Somebody's head will roll for this! he thought to himself. He suddenly came out of his revere and realized he was shivering… and hungry. No point in being the martyr and biting my nose off to spite my face, he thought as he started to get up, stiffly, his muscles cramped from the cold ground. As he stood, his two guards also stood.
"Need something, Mr. President, or are you just stretching?" the one on the left asked.
"Yes, and yes; yes I need to stretch, and yes I need some warmth and something hot to eat. Drink, too. But first I need to visit your toilet facilities."
"Yes Sir. You'll find the bathrooms inside the cave, down the right corridor, next to the gym and opposite the sauna."
The quizzical look on the President's face caused both guards to burst out laughing. The one on the right explained, "We don't have 'facilities', as such. This ain't exactly the Ritz. Depending on which 'need' you have, there's a slit trench for 'Number Two' over there in those trees behind you, or behind any rock or tree for the other."
Abashed, the President looked for the nearest tree and accomplished his business. Rejoining his guards, he asked, with a grin, "Would one of you mind informing the Chef that I will be dining momentarily? I'd like a nice bottle of bubbly. French, of course. Perhaps a tossed salad with a little olive oil, then a nice Porterhouse, medium, with red potatoes and mushrooms… and, a mixed berry sorbet for dessert. But first, I'd like to wash up."
After they had all laughed together, and now feeling friendlier disposed towards one another, the three walked into the cave entrance. One guard, who introduced himself as David, said he'd ‘go inform the chef'’. The other guard said his name was Stephen, and led the President over to a pitcher and bowl, hewn from wood, that served as washing facilities. Once his ablutions were done, and noting that there wasn't a towel, he dried his face on his sleeve, and hands on his pants. The President was led to a wooden table with benches, much like an outdoor picnic table, where he sat, looking at the activity around the cavernous room.
He saw perhaps two dozen people, mostly men, almost all occupied at some task. Others clumped in small groups, sitting and talking quietly. Four were over in a corner, laying down in what he supposed was the sleeping area. No one paid any attention to him, no one even looked up as he'd come in; something he definitely was not use to. Ever since he'd first been elected to Congress, and especially once he became President, people seemed to go out of their way to gawk at him or introduce themselves, to shake his hand. At first he found this new indifference to him a little disconcerting, but then he realized how nice it felt to be left alone. He sensed a presence and saw a young woman standing before him.
"Good evening, Sir. My name is Marie, and I'll be your server tonight. Fortunately, the 'reservations required' crowd is gone so your dinner will be served shortly," she announced with a curtsey, and turned to leave, suppressing a smile.
Before he could ask for something to drink, —he was parched, he hadn't anything since his morning coffee — a man came up to him, holding a carved, wooden pitcher and matching goblet.
"Good evening, Sir. My name is Mike, and I am your Sommelier. Would Monsieur care for a glass of wine?"
He smiled. This little charade was beginning to amuse him. "Indeed, my good man!”
"My apologies, but we are fresh out of the Continental vintages. May I tempt you with one of our more popular domestic varieties? Perhaps this 'Grotto de Shenandoah'? You'll find it unpretentious, yet satisfying. But, I'm afraid, as a white, it may not compliment the main course as well as a red might."
"You're the expert."
"You flatter me, Sir."
The President watched as the liquid was carefully poured from the jug into the mug; the "steward" then raised the mug and gave it a swirl, sniffed
it and handed it to him. Thanking him, he accepted it, smelled it himself, and announced, "Pleasant bouquet", and took just enough into his mouth to coat his tongue. He swallowed.
"This is quite good! What grape is it's from?"
"No grape. Weed. Just your everyday, common garden-variety Dandelion."
"Dandelion wine, oh my. I once read a book by that name. By Ray Bradbury. The story of a boy and a summer. Great book. But I was always curious, if dandelions could really be made into wine".
"Sure, as you now know. Everything — well, almost everything — that grows can be made into some kind of spirit. To paraphrase an old saying, 'The proof is in the drinking."
"Well I'll be. Live and learn! And where did you learn your craft?"
“Back in the early ‘70’s I ran across one of those counterculture Whole Earth catalogues. It was an eclectic collection of just about everything ‘off the wall’ — odds-and-end sale items, articles, Hippy stuff, survival needs, etc. Anyway, there was an article on making homemade wine, using frozen concentrated grape juice and baker’s yeast in a glass jug covered with a big, strong balloon. Would you believe they suggested a condom? Gave it a try. Nasty stuff, but it intrigued me and I started reading more about making wine and refining my methods, trying out new ingredients, and before I knew it, I knew a lot about wine and how to make some really good stuff. Thought about trying to do it for a living, but never got it past a hobby.”
Just then, as the wine steward left, Marie, his server, came back and sat before him a bowl of salad that he couldn't readily identify made of what, his main course, some kind of meat, and generous helpings of new potatoes and mushrooms. He looked at her with questioning eyes.
"Try the salad," she suggested.
He noticed, but wasn't surprised, to find his fork and knife, bowl and plate, just like his mug, made of finely crafted and well sanded, polished wood. He took a taste of the salad. It was wonderful, like nothing he'd ever had before.
"Now, the meat."
Picking up his knife and fork, he cut a small square, placed it gingerly into his mouth, and gave it a chew. Definitely not cow he thought, not mutton, either. A little 'gamey', but not bad he decided. He looked up at her with a questioning look.
"The salad is dandelion greens, wild onions, and tomatoes. And that's venison, rubbed with salt and pepper, and just a little wild mint leaf," she explained.
"Delicious!" he told her. "My compliments to the Chef."
"Thank you. It's a dish I only make for special guests," she told him as she walked away.
Liam had been watching the exchanges between the President and the others, and now watched as the President dug into his dinner. He seemed more relaxed and less tense than before, even friendly. Liam got up and made his way to the table.
"Is everything okay, Mr. President?"
"Yes, very! Please. Sit down. I like conversation at dinner."
As Liam sat opposite to him, he was told, "And let's drop the 'Mr. President', and the 'Sir'. I hear both so much that I think my name is 'Misterpresidentsir'. Call me Al."
"Thanks" Liam responded with a laugh. "It was getting a little tiresome saying it all the time, Al!"
Al smiled back. This kid just may be shooting straight, he thought. "Okay, Liam. Look. You seem to be a nice kid, you're polite, but you don't kowtow to authority. I respect that in a man — a man who is sure of himself and doesn't bend a knee just because it's expected. Okay," he said, taking another bite of deer meat, "just for the 'sake of debate', as you put it, say I'm willing to believe you, as unbelievable as it seems. What do you want me to do about it?"
"What do you think you should do?"
"If...and that's a big ‘IF’...what you've told me of your and the other's abilities, and how elements of my government are not only actively seeking your capture but are also plotting some kind of world domination, then I'd say I have to mobilize the Armed Forces to assist you. As Commander-in-Chief, I am sworn to defend the Republic and the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and...domestic."
"You would declare war?"
“Seems to me they're insurrectionists and traitors, and some of my predecessors have done as much with less cause. There would be some legal challenges, I'm sure, but we'd deal with them afterwards. However, even if I accept everything you say as true, I wouldn't - couldn't - initiate such an action without tangible proof."
Liam saw Scott hovering close by, behind the President. He'd been standing there for some minutes, apparently, trying to catch Liam's attention. Liam excused himself and went over to Scott. Al was pleased with the interruption; he'd been talking so much that his food was getting cold, and he wanted to finish it.
"Liam, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've gotta tell you something...I think maybe important!"
"Go ahead, I'm listening."
"I think...no, I'm pretty sure...I've had a vision...you know...about something that's going to happen."
"What did you see?"
"Well, I was sitting over there, with Drew, when I kinda felt my mind wonder from something he was saying to me, when..."
"Go on..."
"I saw a helicopter over us, and armed men - all dressed in black, like Swat Teams, you know? Rappelling down. I saw them coming at the cave!"
"Do you know when?"
"No, but I had the sense that it's soon. And it was dark, but not real dark."
"Did you see anything else? Did they take us?"
"I don't know...there was confusion, a lot of yelling. But I don't think so...I had the sense that they didn't. I don't know if we got away, or we overpowered them, or what, just that they didn't get us."
"You're certain about all this?"
"Yeah. It felt just the same as that time I knew you were in trouble with Smith."
The President had just finished eating and was drinking the last from his cup, as he looked up and saw Liam returning with another boy.
"Sir", Liam said. "This is my close friend and cousin, Scott. He just told me something I think you should hear. Go ahead, Scott."
Scott was a bit awed at standing before the President of the United States. He couldn't find his voice at first, but with a nudge to his ribs from Liam, he proceeded to retell his vision. When he finished, he turned a little red in the face and said, "It’s an honor to meet you, sir!"
The President was silent for a minute, looking back and forth into the faces of the two boys standing there. He could see in their eyes that they weren't joking. He thought himself a pretty good judge of “bull” — thirty years in politics had taught him to know it when he heard it and, besides, as a politician, he'd spewed a good deal of it himself.
"Thank you, Scott," he finally said. Then looking at Liam, he added, "I'll add that to everything else you've told me that falls into the 'if it's true' category."
"Well, Al, Scott has never been wrong before." He omitting to say that Scott had had prescience only once before. "I guess, if he is right about this, you'll have your 'tangible proof'. And I'm betting he's right. Come with me, please, I want to introduce you to my Privy Counsel. Scott, would you get everyone and come to the room?"
Scott turned as he gave a half-way salute, saying, "Sire", which caused the President to raise an eyebrow that Liam caught and who merely said, "Private joke," and led Al from the dinning area, past the 'kitchen' and into a passageway that meandered a few yards deeper into the cavern, ending in another chamber. The last four or five feet were so narrow only one man at a time could walk through.
Inside the room, looking around, Al could see a rough-hewn table and a half dozen or so like chairs in the center of the room. Unlike the main chamber, which had been partially lit by the cooking fire and several other smaller ones here and there, this room was well lit by several crude torches that had been jammed into small crevasses in the walls. Assorted along the far wall he could see caches of rifles and ammo, bows and arrows, and spear-like staffs. Along
the side walls were what appeared to be stores of food and water.
"If this cave is our castle, this would be our Keep," Liam explained, just as the others filed in behind Scott. Liam introduced his father, uncles, Carroll and Carol, and Drew. After everyone sat down, Liam asked Scott to tell his premonition one more time.
At his conclusion, Gene asked, "Dark but 'light’? How light? Light, like a full moon?"
Scott's eyes sort of glazed over as he focused his memory. "No. More like Dawn, I'd say."
"What was your sense of 'soon'? How soon?" Carroll asked.
"I really can't say. But not long from now. I mean, not next week, or anything."
There was silence around the table as everyone digested what Scott said. The President had been carefully watching everyone's face, and listening, and he realized that not one of these people had looked askance that this kid who said he'd had a vision. In fact, he himself was surprised that they were talking the kid seriously. Maybe I should, too!
Carroll was first to offer an opinion. "As a hunter, I can tell you the best time is dawn, just before the sun rises, and animals are returning to their beds for the day."
Will agreed. "In combat, the best time is also just before sunup, before the enemy wakes and is prepared to fight."
"Drew? Who's the Watch Commander tonight?" Liam asked.
"Stan."
"Would you get him please?"
The President was astounded to see Drew close his eyes and appear to fall asleep. He looked at everyone else and found they all looked indifferent to what was happening. Just as he was about to say something, suddenly before his eyes a man was standing beside Liam, and he knew he hadn't walked in!
"Yes, Liam?"
"Hi, Stan. I'd like you to double our sentries. Use our best Masters. I don't care if they are already assigned for later or not. We're expecting an attack, at dawn or just before. Tell them to work together to double their range, and to concentrate on the sky for helicopters. I want them seen before they're heard. Tell everyone, and I mean everyone, to be ready to move out on a moments notice."
Just as suddenly as Stan had appeared, he disappeared in front of the President's eyes. He looked over at Drew and saw him with his eyes now open.
"What just happened?" Al asked.
"Drew went and told Stan to come here. Stan came," Liam told him.
"But...Drew never left!"
"Physically, no I didn't," Drew said. "I went to him mentally."
"So how did Stan get here? I never saw him enter."
"Remember what Liam explained to you?" Will said. "It is possible to be in two places at the same time, just as you are here... and in a hospital bed at Bethesda. And we can communicate thoughts to another."
"I can't...get my head...around this. I can't pretend to understand any of it. But as the Monkees sang, 'I'm a believer,'" he told all of them.
"The 'who'?" asked Scott.
"I don't think The Who sang that," Gene offered.
"I don't get it!" Scott said.
"Different group," Will observed.
"Huh?" exclaimed Scott in exasperation, as the older members around the table started laughing.
Scott looked at Drew, who merely shrugged his shoulders, not understanding himself.
Del brought the meeting back to focus by asking Liam, "Do you really think it could happen this morning?"
"If Scott doesn't know, how could I? But, 'If you fail to prepare, prepare to fail'."
"Is that original, Liam?" Carol asked him.
"I wish. I once read it on the back of a tee shirt a guy was wearing. Now then...I think everyone should go and get ready. Al, would you stay for a minute?"
Once the rest left to do as Liam wisely suggested, he turned to the President. "When — not if — it happens, this morning or the next, or even the next, I don't want to put you in jeopardy. When we get the alarm, and you see for yourself that Scott's prescience is real, and that everything we've told you is true, I'm going to send you back to yourself. You'll suddenly find yourself in bed, at Bethesda."
"Thank you. As soon as I am back, the first thing I will do will issue an Executive Order, ordering a recall of the units assaulting you. Then I intend to get to the bottom of this and find out who's behind it, and take appropriate action against them."
"Thank you. I hope they allow you."
"What do you mean?"
"Al, all they back there know is that you've been unconscious and unresponsive. Once you 'wake up', and start talking about 'insurrectionists', being 'kidnapped' by a couple of kids using paranormal abilities, and a battle royale taking place in the hills of Virginia....well, keep an eye out for men in white coats. Seriously, I don't think they'll let you do anything for a while."
"You have a point. Still, I'll find a way to get something done. And thank you for considering my safety. I'm curious...if anything happened to me here, how would it affect me there?"
"If you nick yourself shaving tomorrow morning, you'll be bleeding from both faces."
"Really? Interesting! Once all this nastiness is behind us, I definitely want to know more about all this stuff."
"That’s another day. Let's get some rest; the morning will be here before we know it."
Liam woke with a start. Someone was yelling his name. He opened his eyes and saw no one. He realized the voice was in his head. Was it a dream? No. There it was again - it was Carol's voice.
Yes, Carol. What is it?
Liam! They're coming!
They? he asked, still struggling to shake the cobwebs from his brain.
The enemy, you idjit! Get up!
He bolted up from his bedding, now fully awake. How much time do we have? he called out to her.
Stan estimates maybe twenty minutes. The sentries all agree they sensed something about fifty miles out from the cave, coming in from the East, in front of the Sun. But that's just a guess. They could be here sooner. Who knows how fast —they think helicopters — can fly?
Any guess on how many?
'Copters? No.
Liam quickly assessed the situation. He ran over to where the President was sleeping.
"Al!" Liam said, shaking him awake. "We're about to be attacked. We've only a few minutes. You need to get up."
"What do you want me to do?" he asked Liam.
"Just as we talked about last night; I'm gonna send you back, and you need to convince them you're, well, functional, sane, and then see what you can do to call them off us."
"I've given that some thought, Liam. I don't think they'll believe me. They'll want to keep me for observation, just to make sure, as you said. There's no time for that. I think it would be better if I stayed here. If I let them see me, it will take them by surprise. I'm the last person they'd expect to find here — they know I'm, well, some part of me, anyway, at Bethesda."
"Do you think if they see you, and you order them to, they'll stand down?"
"They better. And, if they don't...I'll fight them with you, at your side, win, lose or draw. I'm yours to command."
Liam felt a rare feeling of respect, something he ordinarily withheld from politicians. This guy is willing to put it on the line, personally, and not hide behind his Generals, he thought to himself. And, willing to subordinate himself to a Sixteen...no, today's my birthday...Seventeen-year-old... to boot!
“How much time do we have?” he asked Liam.
“We just don't know. They're probably pretty close now. Don't know how many men or what kind of copter.”
"Hum. Probably just one craft...possibly a C130J. They carry around one hundred fully equipped troops and fly at about three hundred miles per hour. When did your people pick them up?"
"About ten min..."
THUMPTHUMPTHUMP
"Oh crap! They're here!" Liam exclaimed as he heard the rotors hovering just outside. Time for Phase One.
"It’s Show Time!" Al sighed, under his bre
ath, as he sprinted with Liam to the cave's entrance.
The two of them, man and boy, stopped just inside the entrance, shielded by the boulder that partially hid the opening. Liam cautiously looked out. He saw everything going as planned. In the small meadow just outside, all the women, a half dozen, and the ten oldest men were standing with their arms raised in surrender, as they were quickly surrounded by military troops that had, and still were, rappelling down ropes from the open side doors of one of the largest helicopters he'd ever seen. The soldiers, if that's what they were, all dressed in black and carrying numerous weapons that they had trained on Liam’s people, were ordering them to the ground. As they complied, Liam could see the troops visibly relax, confident that they had accomplished their mission without resistance, negating the need for use of force against women and old men. Liam thought to himself that he'd have put children out there as well, for added insurance, had he any. He knew even hardened combat veterans were loathe to open fire on women and children.
"Ready?" Liam asked Al, whispering over his shoulder.
The President nodded.
Liam called out loudly, "Hold your fire! We're coming out!"
Slowly, Liam, leading with his arms upraised, stepped out from his hiding place and into the open, followed by Al.
"On the ground!" they were ordered.
Liam slowly fell to his knees and was about to go all the way down onto his belly when he heard Al say, "Who's in command here?"
"I said…DOWN!" the man standing in front of them said.
"And I said", Al's voice rising, “WHO'S IN COMMAND, SERGEANT?", after noticing the small black chevrons on the collar of the man in front of a squad of rifles pointed at him and Liam. "You better look closely at my face Mister, and ANSWER MY QUESTION!"
"Mr. President? I was told you were ill, at Bethesda, Sir!"
"Do I look ill? And how could I be there...and here? Where's your Commanding Officer?"
"Colonel Miller is on his way here now, should be arriving momentarily. But he's not in command, Sir. This is a joint Special Black OPS - a civilian, with another agency, is with him and he has overall command."
"What’s his name soldier?"
"That’s beyond my pay grade, Sir. I only know him by his code name, Sir."
"And what's that?"
"He's called 'Nightmare', Sir."
"Really? Okay, well, we'll wait. In the mean time, tell your men to stand down."
"Sir!" he said as he saluted and gave the order.
As the troops lowered their weapons, Liam got up and mentally called his father. Dad, keep everyone on task, have them keep their minds quiet — I don’t need to overcome their thoughts, too!
Roger that, Liam.
"I can't wait to meet this guy called 'Nightmare'. He's gonna find me to be his worst nightmare!" Al told Liam.
Just then they noticed the Sergeant put his hand to his earpiece.
"Yes Sir, no resistance."
(listening)
"No Sir."
(listening)
"Sir, The President, himself, is here."
(listening)
"Sir!"
Liam saw the Sergeant lower his hand from his ear, and start to raise his pistol in his other hand. Things are going sour. Time for Phase Two!
Before the Sergeant and his troops knew what was happening, every one of Liam's people, except Liam and Al, in the meadow suddenly disappeared before their eyes. The troops stood dumfounded, looking around, swinging their rifles, looking for their captives, wondering what had happened. The Sergeant, with his pistol aimed between Liam and Al, stood transfixed. He opened his mouth to speak, and for a moment, nothing came out. Then he found his tongue.
"What the...!"
"SERGEANT!" the President barked. "I said, STAND DOWN!"
"STAND FAST!" the man yelled to his men. To Al he said, "Nightmare says you are an imposter, he received Intel just ten minutes ago that the real President is still comatose at Bethesda. I don't know who you are, but you had me convinced! I'm instructed to place you under arrest."
"Son, you have no idea what you are up against."
"Don't say another word!"
Al looked over to Liam, who gave just the slightest nod of his head, raising his arms in surrender once again. In the distance, they could hear another helicopter coming their way. Looking East, at first they could see nothing against the rising sun, until they could just discern a black dot that grew quickly, taking shape as it speedily made it's way towards them. Once it reached the clearing, it hovered momentarily before slowly descending to the ground in front of them. The landing skids had barely touched the short, green grass when the side door slid open and out stepped a snappily uniformed full-bird Colonel. He quickly surveyed the situation from behind his aviator-style sunglasses, wondering where his captives were; it had seemed from up there as they were flying in that there had been a small group confronting his men, but now all he saw was a man and a boy. He saw his Sergeant, and began walking over to him.
Liam felt uneasy; something didn't feel right. He felt a presence, it felt familiar, and for just a second he couldn't place it. Just before another man stood at the craft's door to exit, he suddenly knew who it was, even before he could see the face. It was him.
Smith stepped down to the ground and looked up. His eyes caught sight of Liam, and he smiled. Liam felt nauseous.
"Mr. MacDonald! So we meet again. How nice of you to stay in one place for so long. You made it too easy to find you!" Looking at Al, he addressed him, saying, "And you are looking well. I see our little man here has used his amazing abilities on you. I am surprised. Very resourceful of him. What do you think of our Boy Wonder?"
Turning back to Liam, who could only stare in disbelief, Smith laughed, "Surprised, are we? You should be. You thought that old crone of a witch you called 'Gran' did me in, eh? I fooled her into believing she'd completely turned my brain to gelatin for all time. I realized I couldn't overwhelm her so I simply broke away from her mind and pretended.”
Suddenly, Smith had an uncomfortable feeling. Looking around, he realized for the first time that there wasn’t one of Liam’s people in the meadow, and he had distinctly seen from the helicopter a dozen of them surrounded by the Sergeant’s troops. “What’s going on? Where are they?”
“Not to worry, Dr. Smith, my people are quite safe, far, far away. You see, they evacuated the area early this morning once we knew you were coming. I merely envisioned some of them back here for your benefit.”
“How could you possibly know?” he asked in disbelief.
“It seems some of that prescience the ‘old crone of a witch’ I called Gran has also been passed down another branch of the family tree. Scott saw you coming. Therefore, I sent everyone except Al and me away. I merely envisioned some of them here for effect. Then I sent them back just to make sure no one became a victim of one of your trigger-happy Gestapo.”
The Colonel wasn’t listening to what Nightmare and the kid were saying to each other. He was peering intently at Al. He had been close enough to the President on a couple of occasions to believe he would know him, had even been introduced to him at a function, and couldn't believe this imposter looked so much like him. So much, in fact, that he could be a clone.
The President was also looking directly at the Colonel. Somehow, he had to find something to say to this man to convince him that he was the President. He searched his memory. Was there anything? Yes! He remembered a dinner party...the Colonel and his wife had attended...something she had said to him as they ate. What was it? Right! They had been served shrimp as an appetizer, and she had asked him if he would like hers because she was allergic to them.
Al mouthed the words to the Officer, “Wife...shrimp...allergy."
It took Colonel Miller a second to comprehend what the man meant. Instantly he knew. Only a handful of people knew of Sally's allergy. Her doctor and family of course,
but no one else, she merely told everyone else she simply didn't like shrimp. However, she had told him she'd confessed it to the President at that dinner. The President told her how much he enjoyed shrimp, so she gave him hers with the explanation why. This man had to be...
"Mr. President!" Miller said, saluting him.
Miller's outburst startled Smith, if it was possible to be more startled than he already was after hearing how Liam had masterfully duped him. He looked at Miller and knew something had happened. Maybe it was the weapon Miller was bringing to aim at him.
Liam seized the moment while Smith's attention was now off him. Phase Three!
He threw his mind at the soldiers, who started dropping where they stood. Miller was distracted from his intention on arresting Smith, and finding out what was going on here, when he saw his troops falling like felled trees.
Drawing Smith into his assault, Liam began using all his ability to subdue him. He felt Smith fight back. Liam sensed he was more powerful of the two; he sensed Smith wouldn't be able to resist much longer. He focused harder than he had ever done.
Smith was overawed at the force of Liam. This boy has grown exponentially in power, strength, and skill since the last time we sparred. His aura is blinding, searing my optical nerve, I can't believe it! The boy is powerful enough to take on eighty men and one of the strongest Masters in the D.C. area – me! – at the same time! He was beginning to see stars. He felt himself fagging and knew he was going to lose. Never! he thought to himself. He now knew what all the others had told him, but he had refused to believe, was true. This boy is The One. But not for long, he assured himself. Struggling to make his body obey while he was mentally locked with Liam, he managed to reach into his pocket and draw a pistol. He knew he didn't have to kill the boy, just wound him It would break his concentration and then he could do to the boy what that witch had tried to do to him. Just as he felt Liam's mind surge to take him completely, Smith pulled the trigger and everyone froze at the sound as the gun roared.
"LIAM!" Carol yelled.
Chapter Thirty: Yet Another Surprise
“Only as high as I can reach, only as far as I can go, only as deep as I look can I see, only as much as I dream can I be”.