[The Trial Of Summary James — Chapter Eight

A great African nation has risen in North America. But something is… wrong. Chapter 8 of 20 in the novella.

Nov 15, 2024

Before I had a chance to think about my impossible escape, I heard a commotion outside the room. “No sir, you can’t go in there. This is a private facility,” someone was yelling from a distance. I could hear a dozen or more loud footfalls, the distinct sound of the soles of gendarmes clapping in the hallway outside. Mistake number two, leaving the door open.

The room filled with armored men layered in black with guns trained on both me and my two assailants. Luemba, on the ground, still feeling his jaw with his hand, managed to stretch under one of the men near the door and run underneath and out of the room. The man gave chase. The other five or so continued to watch Rhino and me.

Rhino made a move for one of the armored guys, who shot him down with an electromagnetic stun gun. I sat motionless, astounded at Rhino’s stupidity, not wanting to make a move lest I get shot myself. One of the armored guys flipped his wrist over to speak into his tightly wrapped com bracelet. “We have the subject matching Mr. Jones’s description. He appears to be tied to a chair.”

“Not appears!” I blurted out angrily.

The man ignored me. “We have another man down. One other has escaped. We have one man engaged in a chase for that man.”

Get 20% off for 1 year

I could vaguely make out a dark face on the man’s com bracelet. It spoke. “Just let the other one go. We’re not at war here with anybody. And help Mr. Jones gather his belongings.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man looked over at the immobilized Rhino, then cut the cords binding my hands behind the chair. I looked at the insignia on his shoulder. The letters “MBC” were emblazoned with two lightning bolts. The Mikasuki Baptist Congregation, I thought. I wanted to tell him that congregational militias were outlawed almost two hundred years ago, but then wondered where I’d be without them. And besides, this smelled like Trace’s work. I usually didn’t ask how he pulled off his little magic acts, but this time I was going to find out. This was ridiculous. In a good way, but still ridiculous.

I told the warriors in black about the circular room with the square table and awesome chairs, hoping to find my phone. I was also hoping to catch sight of Alon. I came up empty on both accounts as they hurried me out of the building to the pointed fingers and alarmed looks of several congregants, probably employees, hanging around the building.

I didn’t know how I’d get hold of Trace or Sonata without my phone. I was terrible at remembering numbers. I didn’t sweat it, though, knowing that Trace had probably already taken care of this, too. The warriors gave me a ride back to my hotel. I got another room key from the baseball fan behind the counter, who asked me if I had ever looked up Thériault Mawlings. He seemed completely oblivious to the black helmets and uniforms of the guys who had led me in.

“No, I haven’t had a chance to look him up. I’ll just take your word for it. Get me one of his cards and I’ll pay you in the morning for it.”

“Ah you look busy mon,” he laughed. “So so busy,” he added as he stretched his neck to watch the military types leaving the premises in their black windowed vehicle. “I get you the card, you pay me before you leave. I trust you.”

I offered a combination of a snarl and a chuckle as I replied, “I wish I did.” I thanked him as I headed back to my room. I heard the counterman say in the distance as I retreated, “Tomorrow is another day! Tomorrow will be a good day for you! I can feel it!”

I swiped my keycard and entered the room, trying to think about whom I could contact to fix my shoulder. My hand was surprisingly calm. The swelling had gone down almost completely on the ride to the hotel. But the shoulder still hurt like crazy.

When I entered, a woman was kneeling at my bed with a small roll-up in front of her. When she heard the door, she rolled the device up, set it aside, and looked at me. All I could do was shake my head. I couldn’t even muster the energy to ask who she was. She was a young white woman with red hair and a wild nest of freckles highlighting pink globes on each cheek. “Hi,” she said calmly.

I waved with the hand that didn’t hurt.

“Your friend Trace sent me. He said you might need me.”

Finally, I asked, “Who are you?”

“You can call me Dr. Feelgood.”

I sighed. “That can mean a lot of things. Feelgood can, I mean.”

“Understood. Tell me what hurts.”

“Mostly my ego.”

“Can’t help with that. What else?”

I glanced at my shoulder. “I think it’s separated.”

“Perfect.” She smiled as she sat on the bed. She patted part of the bed and signaled for me to sit next to her. I didn’t move, so she said cheerily, “Come on, I don’t bite, and it will only hurt for just a few seconds!”

“Worse day ever,” I groaned as I sat next to her.

“Good Golly Malloy, you are a tall one,” she said cheerfully. She stood up. “You’re almost too tall to fix!” she giggled. Then she grabbed my arm viciously and fixed my separated shoulder in less than a second, I thought. I didn’t even have time to let out a whoop.

“Wow,” I said.

“I know, right? I’m good. Anything else?”

“Well, my hand was busted up, but somehow it’s better.”

“Let me see.”

I gave it to her and she kissed it. “Better?”

I laughed. “Much.”

“Excellent.” She headed for the door.

“That’s it?”

“Anything else hurt?”

I laughed again. “No, I’m just tired.”

“Can’t help with that. Get some sleep. Bye!” and she opened the door and left.

I called Sonata, eager to hear her voice.

“Oh thank God,” she said. “You okay?”

“I think so. I’ve had a weird day.”

“I got a bad vibe, Longman. So I hit up Trace to see if he could do anything. I mean, a really, really bad vibe. The kind that doesn’t lie.”

“It didn’t, and he did. Thank you.”

“Tell me what happened?”

I gave her the best summary I could, given that much of it happened quickly in a way that left me little opportunity to record things in my mind. I asked if she knew anything about a militia from the Mikasuki Baptist Congregation.

“No, not really. But Trace said he’d take care of your situation. I guess that was what he meant.”

This “situation” seemed bigger than me. “Look, I guess I have been living under an optimistic rock of some kind. But that was a pretty sophisticated, well-trained outfit that pulled me out of that place. Just how many congregations are equipped like that?”

“Gosh, Longman, I can’t say I know.” If you’ve never seen a lie erupt from a smartphone, this would have been your opportunity.

“Seriously, Sonata, tell me about this stuff. Good God, we had a constitutional amendment on this thing after the Savannah Wars. You know. Almost two hundred years ago? It is pretty straightforward. No congregational militias. Period.”

There was an audible sigh on her end. “I guess it maybe started with the Comanche terrorists in the 1970s.”

“That long ago? How do congregations hide stuff like that from the public for fifty years?”

“It’s complicated. For one thing, nobody really objects to the idea of security. Not when you get down to brass tacks. They were targeting churches, Longman. That scared an awful lot of people.”

“I get that. It’s the secrecy I find annoying. Also, it’s remarkable that these guys operated in plain view, really, without the slightest worry that they were exposing themselves. They marched right into the hotel like they owned it.”

“It’s Mikasuki. They basically do own it.”

“I’m pretty sure this hotel is run by a different congregation,” I said, disgusted with the whole situation.

“On paper, yes. But look, Longman, you know the state of politics today. Joshua Brand? Hello?”

“I know, I know. There’s a scramble to be a region’s most dominant congregation to avoid getting sucked up by Brand’s and, well, this is the worst part of it… to develop their own power bases. Let me ask you. Does the Campeche Apostolic Congregation have a militia?”

“Duh.”

“You know where all this leads someday, right?”

“No. But I know that there’s a lot of fear these days. Mostly about Joshua Brand and his crew of fundamentalist sharia law fanatics, jack-booting across the East Coast as they suck up congregation after congregation. So I know that. And I don’t apologize for anything congregations like mine do to try and stop it.”

“Fair enough. I don’t know a thing about politics. Sheesh, I’m exhausted just thinking about it. I think this discussion alone has knocked two years off my life.”

She laughed at that. “Your heart is in the right place, Longman. And your instincts may be right, too. They probably are. But it’s the way of things right now. Walls are forming. So are armies, I’m afraid.”

“Ugly stuff, Sonata.”

“I know. I wish I had a better answer for you.”

“Am I being too forward to say that just hearing your voice is a better answer for me?”

“No, not at all. It’s nice to hear yours, too.”

There was an awkward silence before I said, “Luemba got away. I have to find him.”

“He’s too dangerous for you to try that on your own, don’t you think? Especially if he has a gift for voodoo.”

“I think he’s too dependent on that gift. If I can catch him without his little doll in tow, I think I can reel him in.”

“I just want you to be careful, okay?” she pleaded. “And wait for your phone so that you are always in contact with us. Trace sent you one about an hour ago. Same day delivery.”

“I’ll stay here at the hotel. I’ve got a little gambling here I can do,” I laughed.

“What?”

“Never mind. Talk to you soon.”

I decided to go to the front desk to get my Thériault Mawlings baseball card.