"I assume we're going to reach D.C. tomorrow. Any idea what it will be like there, Gresson?" Michael asked.
The soldiers on the other highway lane were far enough away that Gresson hadn't bothered to hid his face this time. He replied, "Undoubtedly martial law. I'm sure it's where nearby military bases ordered their soldiers to head for. In fact, it's probably where they were coming from." He nodded back at the group of soldiers who had now fully passed by.
"So we're going to go around?" Michael asked.
Gresson nodded. "I have no interest in being 'asked' to meet with their leadership, whoever it's made up of."
"If I remember right, President Reyes was meeting with leaders in Europe when the blackout happened," Adam said. Others in the group nodded their heads in agreement. "So it can't be led by him." Reyes had been Gresson's Vice President and in accordance with the 25th amendment of the U.S. Constitution, he had taken over following Gresson's apparent assassination.
"Could be Reyes' Vice President," Michael suggested.
"God! I hate that guy," Jake exclaimed, shaking his fist at the same time to underscore his hatred. The movement quickly reminded him of his wound, and he grimaced.
"Why do you hate him?" Lash asked.
"He has that creepy grin."
"Please tell me you never voted."
"If he's in Washington, he would have had to be at least on this side of the country during the blackout," Alice said. "We've been walking south everyday and have only made it through a state or two."
"Maybe he took a bike," Marie said, quietly.
"Or a horse," Lucas suggested.
"Why aren't we using either of those?" Sean asked.
Gresson was stunned by the fact that he had not considered these two modes of transportation. Then again, they had yet to see enough of either to carry the whole group. And both would probably draw more attention than walking. However, Gresson liked the idea of traveling that much faster, so he said, "If you see enough of them, let me know."
The group stopped for lunch when they reached a rest stop. Sitting at the picnic tables, they ate some of the food that Lucas had provided. It was a much needed rest for Jake, whose wound had started to bleed through the bandage. Gresson helped him apply a new one. Afterwards, Jake laid on the grass to rest.
Within an hour, the group was back on the highway. Later that afternoon, Jake quietly spoke to Lash. "So, if you don't mind me asking, why are you coming along?"
"Why are you?" she asked, acting insulted by the question.
"I asked first."
"They need protection."
"Lots of people need protection these days. Why these people?"
Lash shrugged. "They seem to have a purpose. I mean, I don't really know what's going on, but this feels important."
"Yeah. Yeah, I get that."
"So why you?"
"I guess I feel like I owe you guys. For saving my life and all that."
"So to pay us back, you're here slowing us down?" Lash said, cocking her head mockingly.
Jake laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Just you wait till I heal up. I'll give your headshot skills a run for their money."
Lash offered him her shotgun. "You can show off now, if you want. Shoot that tree over there."
Jake raised his hands in protest. "Hey, I said I gotta heal first. Ain't fair otherwise."
"Yeah, right."
The group stopped their walk for the day in the late afternoon. They found a motel not far from one of the highway exits. A few others already occupied several of the rooms, but the group settled into several empty ones. They all began to rest in preparation for the next day's trek to the former nation's capital.
Chapter 15
Maryland - August 10, 2012
The next morning, they all, once again, began to trek along the highway. The sun was bright; only a few wispy clouds occasionally blocking it. A light breeze blew, keeping the group generally comfortable, even with all their carried baggage.
It only took two hours to reach the Capital Beltway that looped around Washington, D.C. It was soon clear that the capital was indeed under military lockdown. No troops were on the highways, but scrawled signs were posted, either by soldiers or others, directing people toward a refugee camp on Baltimore Avenue and warning them to stay away from downtown or risk being shot.
"Happy to oblige," Gresson said under his breath.
The group soon found themselves surrounded by thousands of others when they reached the Baltimore Avenue exit. Large white tents were set up down the road and seemed to continue for miles. Soldiers outside the tents struggled to hand out supplies and treat wounded civilians in an orderly fashion. They were too overwhelmed to notice Gresson, but he still kept his group near the edge of the crowd.
The scene was chaos and the landscape matched. Several buildings were burnt out, hundreds of derelict cars littered the roads, and, as always, all of the city lights were broken. But what was most haunting was the sound of the crowd. Shouts, cries, and screams all drowned each other out, making an instinctively recognizable sound of panic, something that would last for days.
The group pressed on. Further east on the Beltway, past the large crowd overflowing Baltimore Avenue, were people seeking a different commodity: information. Aspiring town-criers stood on top of cars and told the crowd what they knew. Most of the crowd, however, seemed focused on one in particular.
He was a miserable heap of a man. His clothes were tattered, his ragged hair was long, and his skin was covered with ash and dirt. It was unlikely that the past week alone was entirely responsible for his disheveled appearance. Yet despite this, he had a powerful voice and his words drew the attention of all those nearby.
"... and ever since their arrival, they have been slaughtering everything in their path. They wear dark suits to hide their true form, but they are tall... menacing... and murderous! I warn you again! Do not go to the north! These creatures hold weapons of unknown origin. I have seen them! They incinerate everything! Nothing escapes! I have seen these creatures kill men, women, and children. With no mercy! I tell you, this is the end! Repent for your evil, or they will kill us all!"
Gresson slowed down. He listened intently to the man's words. If what the man was saying was true, Gresson's mission was far more important than he had anticipated.
"What a nut-job," Jake muttered.
They were almost out of the crowd when another man mounted the car. He was not nearly as ragged looking as the other man beside him, but it was obvious that he had also been through hell. He appeared to be in shock, with wide eyes, pale skin, and stuttered breath. He swallowed hard, then said quietly, "I... I saw them too."
The crowd, of whom most had been merely entertained by the previous man's rant, was now intently listening. While Gresson briefly continued to walk, the others stopped following and turned to the man on the car.
"I don't know what they want. But these... things... are killing people. I was in Ohio, a few miles north of Columbus, when I saw them. They... they..." He began to weep. After a few seconds, he continued with tears in his eyes. "They killed my family. They killed them right... right in front of me. I was a ways off and I yelled. When they kept coming toward me, I... I ran. But they didn't chase me. They didn't do anything, except walk and set everything on fire. I... I found a bike the next day and came here to tell whoever is left that... that these... aliens are here to kill us." The crowd gasped. A few ran off in terror, while others demanded answers from the man. Unfazed, he continued, "I saw one of their ships. My family was staying at a... a relative's house the night of the blackout. It was the exact same time as their arrival. We saw it falling in the sky not far away, but we were too scared to get a closer look. We assumed it was a meteor or something else that had caused the blackout. But now I know. It was them. And they're here to kill us all."
Alice looked over at Gresson. He was now paying full attention to the man. It seemed as if Gresson thought the man was telling the truth and that scared
her. Gresson noticed Alice looking at him and said, "Alright, let's go." He grabbed Michael's shoulder and pulled him through the crowd, followed by the others.
"Is he... is anything he is saying the truth?" Sean asked.
Gresson did not answer. A few minutes later, they had put some distance between themselves and the larger crowd. While still not alone on the highway, they could now walk their own pace. Before they got much farther, however, Michael raised his hands and said, "Enough! Gresson, it's time we got some answers."
Gresson sighed and said, "There are no aliens killing people. We need to..."
"I don't think I believe you," Michael said, angrily.
"It does not matter what..." Gresson started to say, but running up to the group were several soldiers, all armed. Before they had a chance to move, they were surrounded.
One of the soldiers, an officer, walked up to Gresson and said, "Who the hell are you?"
Gresson, with simulated fear, said, "No, no, I... I just look like..."
"Bullshit," the officer said.
Gresson recognized the officer. He was a high-ranking general, though his current uniform did not display it. Gresson had seen him before in meetings with military higher-ups at the White House.
"General Sanders," Gresson said, returning to his normal, confident voice.
Sanders' attitude remained tense. "It seems you're not dead, Mr. President." He said the words slowly, struggling to come to terms with what he was seeing. "I saw you a bit up the road..."
"So you brought backup?" Gresson asked.
"I don't go anywhere alone these days. And it seems, neither do you."
"I'm just passing through."
Sanders shook his head. "With all due respect, we're all too much in the dark to let you go without getting some answers."
"I'm sorry, but..." Gresson started.
Sanders raised his rifle. Though he didn't aim it at Gresson, it was clear that he meant to get his way. "I'm sorry too. But you're going to have to come with me."
After a moment of looking over the surrounding soldiers, Gresson relented. Even if he and his group could take them out, killing soldiers next to the military hive that D.C. had become would not result in anything good. "Alright, general. We'll go with you."
"Good. Now if you all could hand over your weapons..." Sanders said. Lash and Gresson made it clear they had no intention of doing so.
"I thought this was going to be a friendly visit," Gresson said.
"You can never be too cautious," Sanders replied, his open palm waiting for Gresson's gun.
"No, you can't," Gresson said, aiming his pistol at Sanders. Lash followed suit with one of the soldiers near her. Using two hands, Jake raised his own as well, though he was far less confident than his companions.
The impasse lasted for a few moments. Others on the highway kept their distance, though most waited to watch what would unfold. "Very well," Sanders said begrudgingly. He lowered his gun and ordered the other soldiers to do the same.
Sanders and his soldiers led the group to downtown Washington D.C. It was in the process of becoming a fortress. Soldiers watched the perimeter of a barricaded hub, centered around the National Mall. The barricades blocked off most of the roads south of Massachusetts Avenue and west of 2nd Street. Sanders led the group through one of the few entrances. Once inside, the group could see that the south side of the Mall was still being barricaded. Soldiers were pushing cars and debris to block any roads. Outside one of the buildings, Sanders stopped.
"Your friends will need to stay here," he said.
"That is not going to happen," Gresson said.
"Look around you," Sanders replied. It was clear he was referring to the hundreds of soldiers in every direction. "And I'm not trusting the information we need to discuss with civilians."
Gresson replied, "If one of them gets hurt, all of you die."
Sanders appeared almost entertained by the threat. Who exactly are you, Mr. Gresson? he wondered.
Gresson looked at Lash. She nodded, silently taking the order to keep the others safe.
"Where to?" Gresson asked.
"Follow me," Sanders replied.
The others were led inside by a few of Sanders' accompanying soldiers. They reached a white room with a table, chairs, and a small window in it. The soldiers left, bolting the door behind them.
"Great," Jake moaned.
"They realize we still have guns, right?" Lash wondered aloud.
"Considering the weapons they have, I don't think they really care," Adam said.
Outside the building, Sanders led Gresson to the Capitol building. They took stairs to one of the basement levels. Special Forces soldiers paced in the hallway and guarded the entrance to one room in particular. Sanders led Gresson inside.
There was a large mahogany table surrounded by a few senators, representatives, and leaders of the military, most of whom Gresson recognized. They were in a heated discussion when Sanders interrupted.
"Everyone, it appears that someone has come back from the dead." He did not need to say who. Everyone at the table recognized Gresson and, in shock, stood up.
"Mr. President?" one of them asked.
Gresson nodded and took a seat at the table. It took a minute for everyone to settle down, but once they had, Sanders turned to him and asked, "So, what do you know?"
Chapter 16
International Space Station - August 10, 2072
The scientists aboard the ISS had eventually found the problem that had caused everything to go dark and restored its systems. In the chaos following the events on Earth, Andre had forgotten his repairs. The unconnected wiring had led to a power surge which triggered a station-wide failsafe, something that wouldn't have happened if not for Andre being distracted, at least that was what the scientists assumed. The shutdown of their systems left them with limited data. The critical systems were back in a few hours, but it wasn't until a week later that all secondary systems were working again. The work was tedious, but the scientists almost welcomed the distraction.
With everything back on, they anxiously returned to their attempts to discover what was happening at home, though they now kept a watchful eye on the system's maintenance issues. The station was very old and it was only a matter of time before new problems arose.
Vadim discovered the first novel information about what was occurring on Earth. With haste, he pulled himself to the "Clarity" bay to deliver the news.
"I found something," he said. The others looked at him curiously, as his face was pale.
"What?" several of the scientists asked in unison.
"The anomaly scanner had picked up something just before the blackout happened." Vadim brought up the relative information on a display on the wall. The screen showed a digital overlay of Earth, the ISS, and the surrounding space.
Vadim took a deep breath. "This was just before." He pressed a button and the scientists gasped.
On the screen, the overlay was now playing at ten times the speed of realtime. According to the overlay, around 8:00 PM EST on August 4th, objects suddenly appeared just outside the Earth's atmosphere and immediately descended. There were hundreds of them and, according to the display, they were miles wide.
Vadim pressed one of the anomalies and the overlay gave an estimate on the object's shape. It was, undeniably, not an asteroid. The object had distant ridges and symmetry.
"My god," Jackie said. "That's a ship."
There was silence in the room as the scientists all stared at the monitor. There was no question. The objects were vessels of some kind and they had been on a path toward Earth just before all contact was lost.
Vadim nervously cleared his throat, then said, "I checked the trajectories. About a third of the objects headed directly toward the areas which are now the red fireballs on the surface." A few gasps followed.
One of the scientists, hoping to share some optimism, said, "Perhaps they crashed." After a pause, he added, "Not that that makes me feel muc
h better."
"Even if they did, what about the other ships?" another said. Many of them shook their heads in despair.
"Do we know if this is accurate? I mean, maybe the failsafe corrupted the data," Jackie suggested.
Vadim shook his head. "I checked over this at least ten times to be sure."
"What do we do now?" a scientist asked. No one could muster an answer.
Andre moved over to the window. He could only imagine what was happening on the surface. Earth was burning, in nearly every sense of the word. Here he was, among the brightest human minds and on a state-of-the-art space station, and all he could do was watch.
Chapter 17
Washington D.C., August 10, 2012
It was hours before any of the soldiers returned to the white room where the group was being held. When they finally did, they brought food, water, and cots for sleeping.
"Wait, we're staying here until tomorrow?" Jake asked them, but got no reply. "Well, I didn't feel like walking anymore today anyways," he mumbled.
Lash listened at the door until she heard the soldiers leave the building. "Alright. It's time we figured out what's going on. There's gotta be some way out of here." She began to look around the room.
"Hey, I think we should just sit tight," Michael said. "There are a hundred soldiers just outside, probably on edge from everything going on. Besides, we have no idea where Gresson is now."
"They walked toward the Capitol when they left..." Adam said.
"Then that's gotta be where they are," Lash said.
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