THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO Read Online Free Page B

remember.”
    The man nodded. “You had been looking for me for a while, before you were captured. Do you remember what I told you before? That when the time was right, God would send me to you?”
    Keene remembered.
    “My name is Quinn Harrington, Mr. Keene. I am the Prophet.”

CHAPTER 4
Washington, DC
    E ven with the chaos of the last few months and the fact that more than half the nation was operating like a third-world country, traffic on the Beltway at 5:30 a.m. was none the wiser. Already, cars were nearly bumper to bumper as men and women tried to traverse the labyrinth into downtown.
    “It’s like they’ve already forgotten,” Megan said to no one. But with President Walker touting the line,
We must move forward
, it seemed the American people were eager to try.
    As she made her way off the ramp and into downtown, she looked off to the side at one of the thousands of tent cities that had been erected, housing a few thousand of the several million displaced citizens from the other side of the Appalachian Mountains who had braved the journey to safety. As far as the East Coast stretched, makeshift communities like this one had been erected throughout what was left of the country. Still, millions of others were either too scared to try or had just given in to the Chinese government’s new way of life—because for many of them, not much had changed. They still went to work. They still sent their kids to school. But instead of working for an American company or learning American history, workers and students now adopted the Chinese ways of business and education. Many still protested, but many more were just too lazy to do anything about it. As long as no one was trying to kill them and they could still live more or less like they had before, they were willing to settle.
    Pulling up to the security gate, Megan badged the waiting marine. He made the required walk around her car then motioned for her to continue. She knew the marine recognized her. They had played out the same scene for a month now. But she was still irked at the flippancy with which the man casually waved her through. She had said something to Jennings at least twice now.
    “Does he not remember what just happened?”
    “I’ll remind him,” Jennings had said.
    Maybe I should remind him!
she thought, passing through the gate.
    Inside, she was greeted and led to the waiting room where Jennings was already finishing off a pot of coffee. His second of the morning, if she had to guess.
    “Can I get you a cup?” he asked.
    “No thanks. Just makes me jittery anymore.”
    “Suit yourself.” Jennings put the pot back on the burner. He tore open a new pack of grounds, dumped them in the filter, and hit the button. Within seconds the gurgle of the percolator began.
    Though she was bursting at the seams to find out about Jon, she knew—after working with him for five months now—Jennings had his routine. The man was unshakeable. Kicking in the door, demanding information at this hour wasn’t going to generate any kind of favorable response. She sat down and waited for her boss to fill her in.
    Jennings pulled a chair up beside her and sat down. “Before you start railing me for details, let me tell you what I know. You can ask questions when I’m done.”
    She nodded, her heart rate beginning to increase.
    “Last night—or this morning, however you want to look at it—I got a call. But it wasn’t Jon.”
    “I thought you said—”
    “And I thought you were going to let me finish.”
    She bit her lip and folded her arms across her chest.
    “It was Quinn,” Jennings continued.
    “The Prophet?”
    “Yes. He has Jon.”
    “Where?”
    “I’ll get to that in a minute. The Prophet—Quinn—said that when he found him, Jon was barely alive. Now, I don’t know how he found him, or how they got out of there, but he assures me they’re safe. For now.”
    “What about Jon?” She couldn’t help herself.
    “He says Jon has been beaten