Unfortunately, though, these attacks were happening so frequently across the country that many resources were being stretched thin. The various intelligence agencies had been successful in stopping a few incidents, but due to their sporadic nature, it was impossible to stop them all. Every American felt on edge. Many had completely stopped frequenting crowded public places, but some people still braved it. Samantha and Gordon were among those who avoided going out at all. When they did venture out, it was only to get what they couldn’t order online, and they never took the kids with them. The tension was very high and the economy was suffering from the repeated attacks.
“Gordon!” Samantha yelled.
A minute went by without a response from Gordon. She yelled again even louder than before, “Gordon, come here!”
“What’s up?” he yelled back from his office at the end of the house. Gordon was fortunate; he worked from home for a Web design company. After he left the Marine Corps, he didn’t know what to do; he didn’t want go back to college, but needed a trade. He had been working toward a degree in computer science before he joined the Corps and was very computer savvy. While in college, he designed sites to help pay the bills, so it seemed natural to gravitate to something familiar.
He enjoyed the work, but enjoyed the freedom that came with working from home more. It gave him more time to spend with his family. Now, with all of the attacks, he was especially glad he wasn’t going back and forth to some cubicle somewhere, becoming a possible target.
Gordon walked into the living room. Samantha was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands covering her mouth.
He recognized the desperate look on her face and glanced toward the TV for confirmation. “Shit, really? Another attack? Where?”
“Seattle.” She finally lowered her hands from her face.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Gordon, be quiet, I can’t hear.” Samantha sounded very upset and looked stressed.
He walked over to her and sat next to her on the couch. He grabbed her hand. She turned to him; she had tears welling up in her eyes. Her voice cracked. “I’m scared, Gordon. These attacks just won’t stop. We knew they’d come here, but they are relentless!”
“I know you’re scared, honey. I’ll do whatever I can to keep us safe, trust me. I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect you all,” Gordon said, squeezing her hand and looking into her eyes. With his free hand, he wiped away the tears that started to flow down her cheeks.
“I know, but promise me again that you’ll do whatever is necessary to take care of the kids.”
“I promise you.” He placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her gently toward him. He leaned in and kissed her. He could taste the saltiness of her tears on her lips.
“Daddy, why is Mommy crying?” Haley asked, leaning up against Gordon.
“Come here, honey.” Gordon reached out and grabbed Haley and brought her closer. He hugged them both and said, “We are going to be okay, I promise you. No matter what happens, this family will be okay.”
On the TV, the reporter on the scene in the helicopter finally started to provide some preliminary information.
“What appears to have happened is three different suicide bombers have blown themselves up. We are being told that the first explosion happened at a security checkpoint. Apparently, the security staff had noticed something odd about someone in line and when they approached him, he blew himself up. The other two explosions happened within a minute of the first. As of right now, we are getting conflicting numbers of casualties, ranging from fifty to maybe one hundred and fifty. It is just chaos here right now.”
Gordon squeezed Samantha and Haley, his eyes glued to the news report. As he watched smoke pour out of the stadium, he felt such anger. While he had prepared as best he could, there was only so much he could do. The attacks had been going on for months.
He hadn’t told Samantha yet, but recently Gordon had been considering taking his family to go stay in their cabin in McCall, Idaho. Feeling vulnerable, he thought McCall’s tiny population of about twenty-five hundred people wouldn’t put it on a terrorist target list.
After the first week of attacks, Gordon stopped letting Hunter go to school, or anywhere else for that matter. He tried his best to explain what was going on without scaring them, but they were only kids and could only understand so much.
Gordon did feel secure in their North County San Diego neighborhood. They lived in a pristine gated community, but he felt like his family was imprisoned in their own home.
He had kept in close touch with Samantha’s parents through all the attacks. Samantha’s parents lived in Kansas City, Missouri. Her father was ill and needed a lot of medical attention, so there was no convincing them to go to Idaho. He was concerned for them, but his main priority was Samantha, Hunter, and Haley.
Musa Qala, Helmand Province, Afghanistan
Sebastian was positioned in an observation post at the south edge of Forward Operating Base Musa Qala. He had just heard about the new bombing in Seattle. In some ways, things seemed safer in the Helmand Province than in the big cities back at home. He knew Gordon and the family were okay, but many of his fellow Marines were very anxious about their own families and wished they could be back home keeping them safe.
Sebastian was very tired and couldn’t wait for his watch to be over so he could catch some sleep. His sniper team had been busy since their first day in country back in late August. Most snipers, including him, had dozens of confirmed kills each. While Musa Qala was not as violent now as in the past, it still provided a target-rich environment for the snipers.
Sebastian loved his new life as a Scout Sniper with Second Battalion Fourth Marines; it was everything he wanted it to be. They were under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Barone, who was a Marines’ Marine—his reputation preceded him. He took care of his Marines and always backed up his snipers.
Sebastian remembered back to an incident that occurred when they had just arrived in country. They had conducted a reconnaissance of the valley looking for signs of Taliban. During the briefing to the Regimental Combat Team’s S-2, his team’s intelligence was challenged by an administration officer. Barone jumped to his team’s defense, telling the officer that his snipers were the best in the field and that if Corporal Van Zandt said they had gathered intel on the Taliban’s movements, then goddamn it, it was correct. Sebastian would never forget Barone telling that major that he, a corporal, knew more about what was happening in the field than the major did. That moment would forever be etched into Sebastian’s brain. That incident and others like it gave Barone the unwavering loyalty of the Marines in his battalion; they all were willing to do whatever he needed.
Washington, District of Columbia
Upon exiting the Rayburn House Office Building, Speaker Brad Conner ran right into several reporters who were braving the cold December day, waiting for a chance to ask him questions. He was in a hurry, but he stopped to answer what queries he could in reference to the latest bombing in Seattle. Conner was not of an impressive physical stature. He was neither tall nor well built, but he had a presence about him. When he walked into a room, people would take notice. His hair was short, black, and receding, a style fit for a conservative politician. In college, some twenty-eight years before, he had been more active and played baseball, but the days of working out gave way to many hours behind a desk. He would joke that he gave up his six-pack for a pony keg.
“Mr. Speaker, Mr. Speaker, do you have the votes in the House to pass the Vigilance Act?”
“I have been staying in close contact with the whip and we are talking with each one of our members as I know the minority leader is doing the same. I, as well as many other colleagues, have some concern about the act but realize the pressing issues we have before us, magnified by the most recent attack in Seattle,” Co
nner explained calmly but forcefully as he put leather gloves on his hands.
“Mr. Speaker, we understand the president has requested to hold a joint session of Congress so he can speak to you and the nation concerning these attacks. Is that going to happen?” a reporter from the back of the group yelled, waving his hand in the air.
“I have received the formal request from the president and we will honor his request tomorrow evening.”
“Will you be present for this joint session in light of the personal situation involving your son back in Oklahoma City?” another reporter asked, pointing his microphone toward Conner.
“As you all are aware, my son was involved in a car accident in Oklahoma City just this morning. His mother is there with him now and I am leaving to go be by his side. I am planning on being back in Washington tomorrow evening for the president’s address. So I hope you can understand that will have to be the last question. Thank you all very much,” Conner finished. Quickly he pushed his way through the group of reporters and down the stairs toward his limousine.
Conner stepped into the car and closed the door. His top aide was inside already and said, “Your flight is on schedule, sir, and the latest from your wife is that your son has stabilized.”
Dylan McLatchy was not only Conner’s top aide but in many ways was Conner’s right-hand man. Dylan had started as a page when he was in college and now had moved through the ranks to become a trusted aide for the third-most powerful man in the world. Dylan was small, only topping out at five feet five inches. He prided himself on his looks and tended to be as trendy as one could while also maintaining a conservative enough look. The black-framed glasses he wore looked large on his face. His jet-black hair was always kept cropped and neat. Conner liked Dylan a lot because he was always available. No matter what time he called, Dylan was always ready to help.
“Thank you, Dylan, let’s hurry please,” Conner said loudly enough for the driver to hear.
The limo sped off down C Street toward the airport.
December 5, 2014
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
—William Shakespeare, The Tempest
San Diego, California
It was another beautiful December morning in Southern California; unlike most of the country, it was a nice sixty-one degrees with blue sunny skies. Perfect for Gordon’s morning run. He cherished his daily run; even just twenty minutes to clear his mind while the rest of the neighborhood headed to work was enough to make him content. As he ran, he thought about his conversation with Samantha the night before. He told her he was taking the family to Idaho so they could safely wait out the nonstop attacks and be in an environment where they could relax. She completely agreed and was already packing for the trip. Even though it meant leaving behind San Diego’s perfect weather for feet of snow, he couldn’t wait to get there. He and Samantha only needed a couple days to plan and pack, so they could be there by the weekend. They had told the kids this morning about the trip, using the prospect of a white Christmas as their excuse. The kids were very excited; they loved Idaho and looked forward to playing in the snow.
Gordon stopped at a busy intersection, pressed the crosswalk button, and waited patiently for the red “Do Not Walk” signal to change. He took the time to stretch; he bent over at the waist and reached for the ground, stretching his lower back and hamstrings. He straightened up and checked the sign; it was black, no red or white. Suddenly, two cars collided in front of him. Before he could shake the shock of the first crash, another car slammed into the first two. He watched as even more cars stacked up on one another. It had been a while since he had seen an accident. Gordon stood looking at the wrecked cars, then slowly noticed that no cars were moving on the usually heavily trafficked road. He then noticed that all of the lights in the area were blacked out, not flashing red as they normally would during an outage. He looked left up the road and saw all the cars stopped or slowly coasting. Looking right, he saw the same thing. He raised his eyebrows with curiosity.
“What is going on?” a clearly disgruntled driver said, slamming his car door and looking around.
“My car just died and now it won’t start,” another driver said to the first.
Gordon was just standing there taking in everything around him.
“What’s that?” someone yelled loudly pointing to something in the eastern sky.
Gordon followed the man’s finger and saw a source of light in the sky, smaller than the sun and not quite as bright.
As he stared at the glowing orb he could hear others commenting on it, while the people involved in accidents yelled. He heard people complaining that their mobile phones and cars were not working.
“Oh my God, it’s going to crash!” a woman screamed from down the street, standing outside her car.
Gordon turned to the woman and followed her sight line back up to the sky. A plane was free-falling. It was far away, but close enough for him to see that it was a commercial airliner. The plane looked like a toy as it fell from the sky. The whole scenario felt surreal. He just stood there, frozen, watching the plane fall until it crashed into a distant hillside and exploded into a fiery red ball of carnage.
Screams of horror followed the crash of the plane. Many of those around Gordon were, like him, frozen by what they had just witnessed. Finally breaking his temporary paralysis, Gordon started to run for home. He knew he needed to get back as quickly as he could.
As he ran toward his house, Gordon’s military training kicked in. He started to assess the situation and bits of information began falling into place. His heart was pounding. Everywhere he looked, people were standing outside their cars holding their mobile phones in the air. It all seemed so unreal, but he had a feeling he knew what might be happening.
It was obvious his hometown had been attacked, but he didn’t know if something worse was coming. As he crested a hill that had a commanding view of the area for miles, he saw smoke in the distance and, in one area, what appeared to be large flames licking the sky. The fire and smoke were miles away, but something dynamic had happened. When he came to the intersection that led into his community, he saw those streets were littered with stalled cars, broken glass, and other debris from numerous car accidents. The lights were not working and the guards at the gate were just standing there talking to the owners of the stalled cars. Nobody was moving.
As Gordon ran past them he overheard a guard state plainly, “Ma’am, we have experienced some power and phone outages, I am sure it will be back on shortly, so let’s not panic.”
Reaching the pedestrian gate, he unlocked it with his hard key and kept running. Finally making it to his street, he saw neighbors outside staring at the mobile phones in their hands, pressing buttons, apparently attempting to power the devices back on.
Without slowing his pace, Gordon shouted, “Get back inside now! Get inside and take cover!”
No one listened to him; they all stayed put looking confused and bewildered.
After many hard miles, he made it to his front door. He was breathing hard, shaking, and trying to focus as he grabbed his keys. His hands and fingers were slippery from sweat, making it hard to steady the right key.
“C’mon, damn it!”
As Gordon still fumbled his keys, the door opened. Samantha stood in the doorway, with Haley on her hip and Hunter hugging her leg.
“What’s going on? Nothing is working!” Samantha exclaimed urgently. She was clearly nervous; the past months of attacks had already put her on edge. This did not help.
Gordon walked in and told her sternly “Follow me” as he passed her at the threshold.
She did so without hesitation, but kept asking, “What is going on?”
“Samantha, I don’t have time to explain everything. Please just listen to me.” Gordon guided them to the built-in desks in the kitchen area. “I need you all to get under there now and sta
y until I get back.”
“Gordon, why? Please talk to me.” Samantha’s eyes were wide open; her fear was visible in her expression. Hunter and Haley could pick up on the tension and urgency. Haley started to cry.
Samantha kissed her and said softly, “Everything will be okay, honey, I promise.”
“I’m scared, Mommy,” Haley said, burying her head in Samantha’s shoulder, arms wrapped around her neck.
“Me too, Mommy,” Hunter said soon after. He wasn’t crying, but Gordon could see the fear on his son’s face.
“Please, Sam, just listen to me and trust me. Get under there and wait for me.”
“Where are you going? Why are you leaving?” Samantha asked, refusing to let go of his arm.
“Honey, I’m not leaving the house, I’m just prepping some things. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Please, Gordon, don’t leave us,” Samantha pleaded, desperately tightening her grip on his forearm.
Gordon knelt down and hugged his whole family, “I promise you, I’ll be right back.” He kissed Samantha, jumped to his feet, and walked briskly into the kitchen.
Gordon plugged the sink and turned on the water, then ran into the closest bedroom and did the same to the sink and tub in there. He proceeded to run throughout the house, closing every drain and turning on every faucet. Coming back into the kitchen, he saw his family tucked neatly under the desk all huddled together. They peered out at him; their distress evident.
“Almost done, guys,” Gordon yelled a little too cheerfully attempting to calm them as he walked into the pantry.
Gordon grabbed every open jug, container and glass in the kitchen and filled them all with water. His hands were shaking. He was scared, too, but he knew he had to get this done. He needed to save as much water as possible. His hunch about the attack would mean that water would soon be a rare commodity.
The End Page 4
