Dawn

by Eldon Farrell

  “Because I love you!” Lucy screamed at him as tears tracked down her cheeks. “I love you so much that I couldn’t lose you. You’re my hero—my everything.”

  Nathan turned away in disgust. “Look at me. I’m nobody’s hero. Not after what they did to me. What you allowed them to do. I’m your everything?” He looked right at her. “You’re nothing to me anymore. I see you, and all I can see is what you did to me.”

  Silence stretched between them. In the aftermath of the outburst, neither seemed able to find the right words. Lucy showed her hand to him and turned to leave. Nathan recognized the hurt and loss in her features. And the glint of the ring on her finger.

  Regret seized his heart between icy fingers. His breath escaped him. He opened his mouth to apologize and heard the whirring in his ear.

  His words turned to ash on his tongue.

  The HoloSphere projected images familiar to Nathan on the wall. He sat in an upholstered chair and rubbed his forehead as he watched the scene unfold yet again.

  A man in a dark green cloak with long white hair walked to the center of the room. His pale skin heightened the fury in his eyes as he stared at the recording lens. The banner superimposed along the bottom of the image identified him as Malachy, the leader of Homefront.

  His face sparked recognition deep within Nathan. When he spoke it was with a subdued Irish lilt. He opened his mouth, and recollection chilled the marrow of Nathan’s bones.

  “We have struck another blow for freedom. We have taken another step toward restoring America to its greatness. With this attack on the Union City subway, we show those who fight against us the error of their ways. We show those in power how chaos will reign until they do what must be done. Nowhere will be safe for those who deny the truth of our cause.”

  Malachy paused, perhaps to let his words sink in. He continued, “Our demands are as they ever were. The displaced who crowd our cities must be sent back where they came from. Do not be fooled. Displaced is just another way of saying immigrant. They are not real Americans, and they do not belong in our America.”

  Nathan squeezed the armrest of the chair. He felt sick to his stomach.

  Malachy said, “We do not relish in this chaos, nor do we enjoy spilling the blood of innocent Americans. But, sacrifices must be made to right our course. The leaders of this unjust government seem to want this turmoil. They know how to end it, yet refuse to do so. America first. For Americans only. Exile the displaced back to the holes they crawled out of. It’s past time for this country to take care of its own.”

  He paused again and flashed a mirthless smile. “Those who resist the truth of my words claim my hard-line stance is cold-blooded and uncaring.” Malachy bowed his head a moment. “I take this stance because I care. We have lost much of the south to floods. The water has reclaimed the land. It is no longer America, and those who lived there are no longer Americans.”

  He stared again at the lens, and Nathan saw madness glisten in his spiteful eyes. “Resources are not what they used to be. Now is not the time for mercy—or weakness. If we show the degenerates kindness, we slit our own throats! America is our land—not theirs! Homefront will defend this nation to the last man. We will make America great again!”

  Nathan swiped his hand over the HoloSphere and the images vanished. A sense of failure gnawed at him. He glanced down at his left hand and the wedding ring he no longer felt. Nathan pried it off and turned it around between his fingers.

  “Torturing yourself?” Nathan started and glanced toward the door. Logue grinned at him. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Nathan continued to turn the ring. “I can remember hunting that son of a bitch for months. Now I’m here and he’s still free.”

  Logue stood in front of him and clasped his hands behind his back. “With all due respect, Nate, you never hunted him. You reacted to him. That’s what SWAT is—reaction. You’re called in to right his wrongs, not prevent them.”

  Nathan glanced at him. He rolled the ring back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, light reflecting off the white-gold surface.

  “If you want to hunt him, though,” Logue said, “I can arrange it.”

  Nathan closed his fist around his wedding ring and stared at Logue.

  “I have a spot open in Major Crimes,” Logue continued. “I’d like you to take it. You can recuperate first, of course, and then you can hunt down Malachy for real. No more waiting for him to move first—you can take the fight to him.”

  Nathan worked his jaw around as he considered the offer. He felt the ring pressing into his palm and opened his hand to see a circle imprinted in his flesh.

  “Or you can stay in SWAT. You’ve done great work there, Nate, no question. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to knock down those doors again, but I’m certain you’ll continue to be the hero.”

  Nathan pulled a face and turned his open palm sideways. His wedding ring slid out and landed on the floor with a dull thud. He shook his head. “I’m through playing the hero.”

  Logue glanced at the ring on the floor between Nathan’s feet. He looked back up and said, “Then you’ll join me?”

  Nathan nodded. His eyes remained fixed on the fallen ring. “I’ll join you. If it means a shot at Malachy . . . I’m in.” He looked up at Logue and said, “I have nothing else.”

  Logue stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “Together, we’ll do more than bring Malachy to heel. We’ll remake this city in our image.” He smiled a corrupt smile. Nathan felt his insides lurch.

  “Take your time,” Logue said. “Once you’ve healed, I’ll show you how things really work around here.”

  Nathan dropped his gaze to the floor as Logue left. A shadow fell across the ring, cutting it in half, as darkness crept across the room.

  June 3

  2029

  Family

  He looked across at his daughter strapped in the passenger seat. If any silence said more than a teenage one, he had yet to find it.

  Kahale gripped the wheel tighter and let out a sigh. Traffic on the Embarcadero slowed. He glanced at Rebecca again and asked, “You have anything to say for yourself?”

  She slouched in the bucket seat. Her black hair fell across her sullen eyes and she kept her gaze fixed out the window.

  Traffic snarled, and they came to a stop. Kahale checked his dive watch and grimaced. Rush hour—a bad time to be on the highway. He pounded his palm against the wheel once. The only reason I’m stuck in this gridlock is because I had to find my wayward daughter on the waterfront after her school called to inform me she wasn’t there. An afternoon wasted finding her, and she has nothing to say.

  He felt Rebecca’s animosity radiate off her in waves. How could this brooding teenager have been Daddy’s little girl just a few years ago? Where does the time go?

  Kahale cleared his throat and said, “If you have nothing to say, little girl, I have plenty. Why weren’t you in school today?” Rebecca gave her head a shake and snorted under her breath. He raised his voice. “I’m waiting.”

  She shifted up on her seat and answered, “It’s no big deal, Dad. You’re making too much of it. Everyone ditches now and again.”

  Kahale lifted his eyebrows. “No big deal? The school didn’t know where you were. Your mother and I didn’t know where you were. Because of your thoughtlessness, I had to leave the base to search for you and waste an entire afternoon. You show no regard for how your actions affect those around you.”

  She stared blank-faced at him. Her jaw hung open before she launched into a tirade. “Like you have so much regard for how your actions affect me. I don’t recall being asked if I wanted to come here.”

  Traffic crawled forward and Kahale inched the car along. He shook his head. “I was transferred, Becca. It wasn’t a choice—the base closed after Hawaii voted for independence.”

  She shot back. “We could have stayed. My friends stayed. I was born there, Dad.”

  Kahale glanced at her as he kept
one eye on the vehicle in front of him. “You think I don’t know that? I was born there, too, Becca. But, we’re American. I serve this country.” She glared at him and he added, “You’re not the only one who left friends on the island, but you are the only one being a pain about it.”

  Rebecca looked pained, and he instantly regretted his harsh tone. “Becca,” he started, but she held her hand up and turned away. A horn sounded behind him. Kahale glanced in the rear-view mirror to see a red-faced man gesturing at him. He dismissed him and moved forward.

  Kahale spoke without looking at his daughter. “That sounded harsher than I wanted it to, Becca. I know it’s been hard for you adjusting to being here. But that doesn’t excuse your behavior. What was so important today it was worth skipping school over?”

  “Nothing.” Her voice was no more than a whisper.

  “You skipped school for no reason?” Kahale asked. “Who was the boy you were with?”

  Rebecca whipped her head around and said, “He’s nobody—just a kid. You’re making too much of this, Dad.”

  They approached their exit and Kahale inched his way into the right lane. “So, you skipped school to do nothing with nobody, that right?” His eyes bored into hers for a moment before she turned back to the window.

  “Forget it,” she muttered.

  “I can’t do that, Becca.” Kahale checked his blind spot and exited the Embarcadero. They picked up speed as they left the traffic jam behind. “You still don’t understand how you worried everyone who loves you today.”

  Rebecca said nothing, and they drove home in silence.

  Kahale sat on the edge of their bed and sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair and said, “I don’t know what to do with her.”

  Rina stood in the doorway of their ensuite with a toothbrush in hand. “Well, whatever we do, the silent treatment between the two of you will not work. I’ve never had such a frosty meal.”

  He threw up his hands. “What am I supposed to do, babe? You tell me.”

  Rina brushed her teeth and spoke around the toothbrush. Little flecks of toothpaste landed on the bedroom rug. “She needs to feel like we understand.”

  “I understand.” Kahale pointed at his chest. “I understand I had to spend an entire afternoon searching for her, and she thinks it’s no big deal. She’s skipping school now to hang around strange boys. Something has to be done.”

  Rina turned into the ensuite and bent over the sink. She spit toothpaste into the bowl and rinsed her mouth out. “I agree with you, honey. But freezing her out isn’t the answer.” She came and sat next to him on the bed, her hand reaching out for his. “She’s seventeen. It’s a tough age.”

  Kahale looked into his wife’s eyes and found calm. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into an embrace.

  Rina spoke against his chest. “The move has been hard for her. Having to start over in a new school and make new friends at seventeen is difficult. She needs us to be supportive. We need to make sure she knows we’re here for her.”

  Kahale squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve always been soft on her, babe. I get the move is hard for her, I do. But this behavior can’t go on. We can’t let her do whatever she feels like.”

  Rina pushed off his chest and looked him in the eye. “I’m not suggesting we let her do whatever she feels like.”

  “Well, you don’t seem too bothered by her actions.”

  Rina shook her head. “Why? Because I’m not yelling at her and then trying to guilt her into change with silence? How’s that working out for you?”

  Kahale exhaled and fell back on the bed. He looked at the ceiling and said, “Not well. Point taken, okay? She just . . . I’m frustrated.” He rose up on his elbows and asked, “What happened to that little girl who adored me?”

  Rina smiled at him. “She grew up. Daddy’s little girl is a temperamental teenager now.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Lucky us.”

  Rina patted his knee. “We’ll be all right. I’ll drive her to school in the morning and we’ll have a chat.”

  “You think it will help?”

  She shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. Get ready for bed, honey.”

  Kahale pushed up off the bed and unbuttoned his shirt. Barking rose up the stairs. “What’s got into Toby?” Rina gave him a blank stare. He rolled his eyes and shouldered his shirt back on. “I’ll go look.”

  The wooden steps creaked underfoot as he headed down to the living room. He found Toby, a three-year-old Labrador retriever, crouched by the front door. “You need to go out, boy?”

  Toby pawed at the floor and barked twice. Kahale unlocked the door and pulled it open, but the dog refused to go out. He backed away and lowered his snout to the rug where he whined and looked up at his owner.

  “What’s the matter, boy?” Kahale asked. “Something spook you?”

  Toby barked twice more, then laid down and continued to whine.

  “What’s going on?” Rina called from the top of the stairs.

  Kahale looked in her direction and answered, “Something has Toby agitated.”

  “Well, put him in the yard and come to bed before he wakes the whole house.”

  “Sorry, pal.” Kahale grabbed him by the collar and walked him through to the back of the house. Opening the door, he led Toby out into the yard and tossed him a couple of treats. Toby ignored them and went to the far corner of the patio where he continued to whine. Kahale screwed his face up at his odd behavior. He went back inside where Toby’s whines echoed in the quiet kitchen. The keening tone set Kahale on edge. This isn’t like Toby. What could bother him this much?

  Unease prickled his skin. He searched downstairs for anything out of place—anything that could have set Toby off. Finding nothing, he killed the lights and headed up to bed.

  His eyes snapped open, and he took a deep breath. A chill raised the hairs on his arm as Kahale woke from his slumber. He focused on the bedside table. It took him a moment to realize his digital clock showed no readout.

  Kahale slid his feet out of bed and pushed the clock’s display button a few times. Nothing. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and reached for the switch on his lamp. It clicked, but did not turn on. Power’s out. Great. He checked his dive watch—three-thirty-one in the morning. The second hand moved around the dial as the face of the watch began to shake.

  Vibration against the soles of his feet startled him before the bed swayed. His bedside lamp crashed to the floor.

  “What was that?” Rina asked, her sleep now forgotten.

  Everything in the room moved as if possessing a mind of its own. Even the walls shook in their frame. “Earthquake,” Kahale answered. “Get to the doorway.” He staggered on his feet, each step like walking in a bowl of jelly. Rina stumbled to the carpet and crawled her way to the doorframe. Kahale joined her and looked back at their room.

  A loud crack split the top of the wall and ran in a jagged line toward the floor. Rina screamed in his embrace. The house groaned from the pressure exerted on it. A crash echoed from somewhere inside as heavy cabinets toppled.

  Kahale squeezed his wife tighter, and she whispered close to his ear, “The kids!”

  Windows shattered throughout the house—sending glass projectiles through the air. The shaking increased its savage ferocity.

  He leaned closer to Rina and said, “Stay here. I’ll grab them.”

  Rina refused. “I’m coming.”

  Steel screamed around them. Kahale leaned out and looked over the railing down the stairs. Sparks flashed at the bottom followed by a whoosh as a fireball swept across the front foyer. He pushed back against Rina. Wood crackled and popped below them and smoke rose up the stairwell.

  She screamed, “The house is on fire?”

  “Gas line ignited,” Kahale said. “We need to get out—now.”

  He spied the doors to his children’s bedrooms across the landing. Holding Rina’s hand in a tight grip, he led them across the hall. A horrendous crack deafened them f
or a moment, then the floor gave way beneath their feet. The staircase collapsed and took the landing with it. Kahale lost his grip on Rina’s hand. Her fingers slipped through his, and she fell out into space.

  “Rina!”

  He lost sight of her when she slid beneath the broken staircase. Smoke billowed around him—the flames fanned by the collapse. Kahale extended one leg out onto the broken landing, tilted down at a forty-five degree angle, and tested it for his weight. All around him the incessant shaking tore more of the house loose from its underpinnings. Have to move faster.

  Kahale shimmied out onto the landing and slid to the rubble of his staircase. He saw Rina’s hand jutting out from under fallen boards. Crawling forward, he lifted the boards out of the way. Her face was a mask of anguish. “I’m here,” he said.

  Blood from a gash on her forehead ran into her eyes. She blinked it away and said, “The kids. We have to get to them.”

  Dust floated down on them as the house continued its violent death throws. Another crack rung in their ears as more of the support structure gave way. “We will,” Kahale said. “Give me your hand.”

  Rina reached out, and he clasped both his hands around hers. He gave a tug and pulled her out from beneath the rubble. She winced when she put weight on her ankle. “Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

  She gritted her teeth and said, “I’ll manage. Let’s go.”

  Kahale scuttled up the angled landing. Going up proved more difficult than sliding down. The surrounding upheaval made him cautious with every step. Reaching the second floor, he turned and grabbed Rina’s hand to help her up. The front wall of the house cracked under the weight of the roof. The ceiling tilted forward at an unnatural angle. Wood splintered and cracked throughout the house.

  Kahale’s head spun from the quaking. With Rina in tow, he scrambled toward Becca’s door.

  Rina coughed at his elbow. “Go! I’ll get Becca, you get Bryce.”

  Kahale shook his head. “We stick together.”

  Rina squeezed his arm and cried, “There isn’t time. Please. Go.”