Chapter Thirty-Two

I made three phone calls while I waited for my flight out of the American Redoubt. I had one more trip to take before heading home to New York.

The first call was to John Hargrove, my editor.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked me. “And more important, have you written it up? Am I going to see anything in print here at the paper?”

That was a good question. I hadn’t yet made up my mind. It depended on whether I thought anyone would actually believe what I had to say.

“I have one more interview left,” I answered. “I’ll let you know when I’m done with it.”

“But what did you find on your sabbatical? You were gone a while. You dropped off the grid. We wondered where you’d gone.”

“Off the grid.” I laughed. “Now that’s funny.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“It’ll be in the story I file,” I answered.

“So you are going to file something about what you found?”

“Maybe. Probably. We’ll see,” I said.

I could almost hear the questions that he really wanted to ask. But like everyone, he didn’t want to pry into my personal life.

“So are you coming back to work at the newspaper?” he asked me finally. “I know you don’t need the work. Good heavens, you can buy the paper with your spare change, most likely. But you’re a good writer, Thomas. And we miss your perspective around here. It’s … Well, it’s different than what we would see otherwise.”

That was an understatement. “Yeah, I’ll be back, John. It’s not like I have anything better to do. Might as well make you miserable.”

My second call was to Frank Gore.

“So why didn’t you just tell me about Fortress?” I asked him. “Why did you let me think the worst of a place like that?”

“Would you have believed me?” he asked. “You were so certain of what you’d find there. I figured it was easier for you to see it for yourself.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it. Really. It renewed my faith in the basic goodness of humanity. I didn’t think that was even possible. And I especially didn’t think it would be possible there, in a part of the country that seems hell-bent on hiding from the world’s troubles. It’s nice to know that a place like that even exists—an open-source community.”

“My pleasure,” Frank said. “So what have you decided to write about? Do you know yet?”

I exhaled. “My editor just asked me that. Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe just a piece of fiction, pretending to reveal truth. I guess it depends on how gullible people are and whether they prefer conspiracy theories over actual truth.”

“Did you find the answers you were looking for on the Christian Brigades?” he asked. “I know that was frustrating you—what they’re all about and how they figured into that attempt on your brother’s life at the start of his political campaign.”

“You know, I didn’t—not really,” I told him. “But I have one more interview left, and we’ll see how far that takes me.”

My third call was to Sandy.

“I miss you. I’m coming home,” I said, glad to hear her voice.

“And will you be here for a while?” she asked. “Have you wandered around the country enough? Is it all out of your system now?”

“For the time being.” I chuckled. “Next time, you’re coming with me. I promise. There’s a pretty spectacular place I want to show you. It’s on the side of a mountain in Montana.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Sounds a bit dodgy.”

“It isn’t. It’s anything but. You’ll like it. Trust me. It isn’t what you’d expect.”

“If it’s a place you like,” she said, “that’s enough for me. Sign me up. I’m happy to follow you to the ends of the earth, if that’s what it takes to keep up with you.”

“No need for that,” I said, laughing. “But you’ll like this place. It’s extraordinary. Magical.”

“Well, good,” Sandy said. “I vote for magical any day.”