Exodus: Book Two: Last Days Trilogy by Jacqueline Druga Page B

whisper, almost to himself. “If he was right about Europe and Chicago, what next?”
    “What, Mr. President? I can’t hear you, I don’t understand.” John moved his head closer, trying to hear.
    “Religious persecution in exchange for life. Freedom of belief in exchange for death. Devante’s way or no way,” he said breathlessly, his words not quite audible. “Is there really a choice?
     

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
     

Northwestern Indiana
     
     
     
    They began to spot trees and rooftops sticking up from the ground, then spotlights appeared in the distance.
    “We made it.” Reggie said in relief.
    “I never thought we would.”
    “I bet we walked at least a hundred miles today.”
    “Reg, stop that. And we are about to find out who’s right.”
    “Halt!” a deep male voice called out. “Identify yourselves.”
    Reggie squinted in the bright floodlight.
    “Identify yourselves,” the man repeated.
    Reggie grabbed Marcus’ shoulder, whispering, “Remember, you’re a wanted criminal. Let me handle this.”
    The soldier challenged them once again to identify themselves.
    Reggie called out, “Dina Lewis and Jerry Martin.”
    “Oh my God,” Marcus moaned. “Not them.”
    “What?” Reggie snickered. “He’s young. He doesn’t know.”
    “Do you have any identification?” the private asked. He approached warily. He was young, no older than twenty. And short.
    “No,” Reggie answered. “And stop.”
    “Why?” he asked. “Did you two survive that?”
    “Fortunately,” Reggie said.
    “Injuries?” he scanned them with his flashlight.
    “We need to get cleaned up,” Reggie said.
    “And a place to rest. But first,” Marcus looked at the soldier, “can you tell us where we are? We’ve lost our bearings.”
    “About two miles east of Valparaiso,” the private answered.
    “Yes!” Marcus exclaimed. “I was right.”
    “Aw,” Reggie whined. “You win, don’t gloat.”
    The private shifted his eyes back and forth. “Do you two need a place to go or what? Because we can’t stand out here all night.”
    “Yes. Yes we do.,” Reggie said. “How far is it? We walked a hundred miles today.”
    “Dina,” Marcus corrected. “We did not.”
    “Seemed like it.”
    “I’m sure...” the private interrupted their bickering, “I’m sure we can accommodate you. Follow me.” He started to walk toward the rest of the vehicles.
    “Hope you don’t mind but we have to keep our distance,” Reggie said. “We smell pretty bad.”
    The private shook his head. “There’s a refugee shelter about five miles from here, or... do you have money?”
    “Yes,” Reggie said, “Pocket money. Some. Why? You aren’t going to roll us, are you?”
    “No. There’s a small motel four miles away. Not very nice. The owner insisted on staying open.” The private stopped as they neared a jeep. “Your choice. We’re authorized to take refugees to either place. But we have to get you someplace, you can’t be out wandering around.”
    Reggie looked at the soldier. “Refugee shelter? Like with tents and watery soup and lots of people complaining?”
    “Or a dumpy motel,” Marcus restated. “No choice, I hate crowds.” He turned back to the soldier. “Dumpy motel.”
    “Got it,” the private said. “Hop in and I’ll be right back with my book. We have to register all refugees found wandering out here.”
    Reggie and Marcus loaded their things in the back of the jeep as the young soldier walked to his Sergeant. They chuckled when he reported he was taking Martin and Lewis to shelter.
     
    It was the epitome of tacky, fake paneling, a lopsided double beds, and the overwhelming odor of stale disinfectant. But it was a roof over their heads. And safety, at least for the night, the first such place in a while.
    The soldier supplied them with fresh clothes and the owner of the hotel contributed a razor. Marcus and Reggie thanked them effusively.
    In his fatigue, Marcus thought he heard Reggie talking to