Day of Reckoning

by G. Michael Hopf

  Mo shook his head. He liked Malik for many reasons, his lack of decorum wasn’t one of them.

  San Diego, California

  Brett didn’t see the balled-up paper coming his way until it hit him in the face. Surprised, he stepped back and bellowed, “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “That’s the printout from our bank statement!” Madison snapped.

  Brett put his briefcase down, bent down and picked up the crumpled piece of paper. He knew what was on there but still went through the motions.

  “So you thought I wouldn’t find out? How dare you make a purchase like that without consulting me!” Madison barked, her face flush and nostrils flared.

  “I was thinking about how I’d word it,” Brett replied, looking down, embarrassed by being caught purchasing a gun without discussing it with her.

  “You go to the range with Chris once and buy a gun the same day? Who does that?”

  Brett walked further into the house, steering clear of her and heading straight for the refrigerator. He opened it and took out a beer. “Where are the boys?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “I just don’t want them to hear this.”

  “Maybe they need to hear so they can know their father lies,” Madison barked and came into the kitchen.

  “Whoa, that’s unfair,” Brett replied, holding up his arms, disarmed by her last comment.

  “You know how I feel about guns but you go and buy one! You think that you run this household exclusively? We have two small children here and you want to bring in a dangerous weapon?”

  “It’s just a tool, nothing more,” Brett countered.

  “A tool? A tool? You sound like Chris. It’s a damn tool of war, nothing more. I just don’t get you lately. Ever since those damn attacks in Amsterdam you’ve been withdrawn and disconnected from your family.”

  “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “So much that it’s clouded your judgment. You go out once with Chris, so what do you buy on your second trip?”

  “Nothing, I didn’t buy anything my second time,” he said confiding he’d seen Chris again.

  “What?”

  “I went to the range at lunch. I want to make sure I’m proficient when I pick it up.”

  “You went again?”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s like you’re having an affair.”

  “Don’t be so damn dramatic.”

  Flustered, Madison sat down on a stool and sighed heavily. “Brett, Brett, Brett.”

  Brett walked over and sat next to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. “I’m sorry but I knew you’d flip out. My plan was to train extensively and get a safe to secure it at home so that when I took possession of the gun you could have a great peace of mind.”

  She glared at him and said, “There is nothing you can do. That gun is not coming into this house, period.”

  “Madison, please, stop being so excited.”

  “No.”

  “Madison, the pistol will be in a safe. No one will get—”

  “NO!”

  Brett opened his mouth but she again silenced him.

  “Don’t, no! You don’t need a gun, you need a shrink. You need to talk to someone about why you’re paranoid.”

  “Madison, come on, you’re being too hard on me.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re not being fair.”

  “Brett, wake up, no terrorist is going to come in this house and kill us. We’re not that important. The police and authorities are working overtime to protect us. I know you think you’re helping your family but you’re not. Let the professionals do their jobs; let them keep us safe. You need to be focused on your job and being a father and husband.”

  Brett listened but his feelings were mixed. He regretted that he hadn’t been honest about purchasing the gun but he also felt a sense of pride that he had done it. It wasn’t just about the recent attacks, it was also about the facts he didn’t have the proper tools to protect his family, and soon he would once the firearm was released to him following the ten-day waiting period.

  Madison slumped over the kitchen counter bar, her head hanging low.

  Brett put his hand on her but she shrugged it off.

  “I promise it will be in a safe place,” Brett softly said.

  Madison jerked her head up towards him and with her teeth clenched seethed. “That thing will never come into this house, you understand me? Never.”

  Brett recoiled. He had seen Madison upset before but never like this. “You’re being stubborn.”

  “I’m taking care of my family.”

  “So am I,” he shot back.

  Madison pushed away from the counter and stood up. “I suggest you go find another place to sleep because you’re not coming into my bed.” She stormed off and out of the kitchen.

  “By the way, the attack was in Copenhagen, not Amsterdam!” he hollered after her.

  “No one cares!” she barked back.

  Brett sat, shocked at her extreme reaction. A multitude of emotions flooded through him. The one he focused on was his irritation with her.

  He grabbed his phone and sent a text to Chris. “You available to grab a drink?”

  Promptly Chris replied, “Sure, where?’’

  “Karl, in 20,” Brett replied, referencing the Karl Strauss brew pub a few miles away.

  “Let me check w/ the ball n chain.”

  Chris’ response made him chuckle. Not feeling welcome in his own home, he immediately left and headed towards the bar to clear his mind.

  Ramona, California

  Sophie entered the darkened house. She flipped on the lights and jumped when she saw Cassidy sitting on the couch.

  “Oh, my God, you startled me. Why are you sitting in the dark?” she asked, concerned.

  “I’ve been sitting here thinking how I’d tell you and none of it sounds good,” he confessed.

  She rushed over and sat down. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “I lost my job.”

  “What? How?”

  “I was fired today for reporting that Muslim man to the police.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wish I were,” Cassidy replied somberly, his head hung low.

  Sophie took a deep breath. She searched for the right words, but couldn’t find them. Unwilling to just offer the standard predictable responses, she put her arms around him and squeezed. “I love you, Trevor.”

  “I’m so sorry, I’m such a fuckup, I’d understand if you left me. I get it. I’m a loser. I can’t even hold down a job as a janitor. What in the hell is wrong with me?” Cassidy groaned. His pledge earlier to discover the truth about Basher was now gone when the reality of what had happened to him hit home.

  With sincerity, she answered, “Nothing is wrong with you. The thing is, you haven’t yet found your place out of the Marines, but you will, please believe that.”

  “I don’t know if I can. I’m worthless.”

  “You’re nothing like that at all. You’re a strong man, an honest man, a good man,” she said as she lifted his head and stared into his eyes. “I need you to pull it together. You’re a fighter. You will come back from this and I’ll be there right alongside of you.”

  Never in his life had he felt so lost and so vulnerable. The Marines had given him an environment to exploit his God-given talents of leadership and grit, but Sophie gave him something the Marine Corps never could, a place to call home. She was a safe harbor for him to reside while not out on the open sea of life. He hugged her tightly and whispered into her soft ear, “Thank you for being you. I will rise above, for you.”

  She pulled him away and poignantly stated, “Let me be your muse, but do it for you.”

  “I will. I’ll go looking for a job first thing,” he said.

  “Don’t just look…create. I know these words always sound so cliché, but you can truly be what you want. You just have to know who you are, know you
r true self, then go be.”

  He smiled and joked, “Are you my girlfriend or a motivational speaker?”

  “To you, I’m both and more.”

  San Diego, California

  Brett put his drink down and sighed heavily.

  Chris knew Brett had the weight of the world on his shoulders and that was before the dustup with Madison. “She’ll get over it.”

  “Ha, I wish. You don’t know Madison.”

  “You’re right, I don’t, but I just can’t believe she’ll hold this that long.”

  Brett picked up the pint glass and swished the contents. He marveled as the caramel colored ale fizzed with each twirl creating a foamy white head. Thirsty for the IPA, he tossed back what was left in his glass.

  “Want another?” Chris asked.

  “I better not. She’s already pissed. Me going home half-cut won’t help my cause.”

  “You think you can get in more trouble than you already are? This seems like a good time to leverage tying one on.”

  “I can’t. Plus I have to work tomorrow.”

  “I understand. I know it’s a bad time to ask, but are we on for the range at lunch tomorrow?” Chris asked.

  The two stopped talking and turned to the television.

  This is a Fox News alert. Sources in the intelligence and defense communities are telling us tonight that over twenty United States Special Forces troops and Marines were killed in a surprise raid on a compound in Somalia the other night. When the White House was asked for comment, none was given. As of right now, we don’t know if this raid was in response to the terror attack in Copenhagen. Until we get a confirmation from the White House or Department of Defense, we don’t know for sure what’s transpired. So the story is still developing. Shifting to the terror attack in Copenhagen, we have more information concerning this new terror group that has taken credit for that attack. They call themselves The Bloody Hand. What we’re hearing is they’re even more radical than ISIS. We’re hearing they’re an offshoot of ISIS that splintered off earlier in the year and have been able to go operational rather quickly. When we get more information, we’ll update. We’ll now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

  Brett looked at Chris, his bald head reflecting the yellow glow from the pendant lights above their heads. “What do you make of all this stuff?”

  “I keep saying it, and I know I sound like a skipping record, but something big is coming,” Chris replied.

  “Like what?”

  “Nuclear, biological, something big. Those cocksuckers won’t stop until they hit us so hard we finally buckle over. Pay no attention to those who say we have nothing to fear, we have everything to fear. Our borders are wide open. Talk to any border agent, they’re capturing more than Hondurans or Mexicans coming in to pick strawberries. They’re getting many Muslims. For years, they’ve been coming in and setting up shop. Hell, the FBI is tracking threats in fifty states and that’s just what they’ll tell you. Believe me, after over twenty years in law enforcement, it’s always worse than what they’re telling you.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Yes, and it’s only a matter of when.”

  “If it’s going to be so bad, what can I really do to prepare, then?” Brett asked.

  Chris gave him an odd look and answered, “Am I hearing doubt?”

  “No…well, yes, a bit, if it’s nuclear or, god help us, a biological-type thing, what can I really do to protect me and my family?”

  “More than doing nothing, that’s what. Pay no mind to the social media appeasers who say our only weapon to fight terror is through hugs and colorful memes. Those people are fucking idiots, pure and simple. Morons of the grandest form. As if changing your Facebook picture to the flag of Denmark is doing anything. It’s bullshit, total. It’s lazy and shows a blindness or even an ignorance.”

  “Wow, you’re on a tear,” Brett joked.

  “Just the truth, buddy. If there’s one piece of advice I can give you, it would be that no one, and I mean not a soul, gives a flying fuck. They act like it on Facebook, but when push comes to shove and if a nuke goes off in LA or a terrorist goes crazy in a mall, people don’t care about you or me, they care about themselves. Yes, I’m overgeneralizing, as some people will stand up and help, but for the most part, we’re a selfish species. If you are putting your family’s fate in the hands of others, you’re an idiot. Do you put your family’s financial security in other people’s hands? No. You work, save, and invest, all to make sure they’re fine. You get my point?”

  “I do and it makes sense.”

  “Good.”

  “What do you make of all the bomb threats and heightened alerts that started this morning?”

  “It’s one of two things. Either some assholes are pranking, which is fucking stupid because you get caught doing that shit now, or it’s being done to overwhelm the system.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing? If everyone is looking, won’t it be harder to pull off an attack?”

  “The fact of the matter is we only have so many people working to prevent an attack. If you get them distracted and jumping from one place to another, it provides cover for something spectacular to occur.”

  “Then this could be all part of an orchestrated plan?”

  “Yep. Get us all lathered up, get the American people freaked out, get law enforcement working overtime chasing down dead leads just so you can pull off the mother of all attacks.”

  The bartender walked up and said, “Last call.”

  “Last call?” Brett asked looking at the time on his phone.

  “I’ll take one more,” Chris said.

  “Screw it. I’ll have another too,” Brett replied to the bartender who took their empty glasses and headed towards the tap. Putting his head in his hands, Brett massaged his forehead. “This all sucks so much. Maybe Madison’s right. I’m getting a bit obsessed about this. I have to admit it, I’m scared.”

  Chris could see the fear emanating from Brett. He put his hand on his shoulder and said, “Don’t be afraid, be prepared.”

  “Is it that easy?” Brett asked, his head still hanging low.

  “You can’t control anything in this world but how you react to situations that confront you. You have no power over what a homicidal maniac does or the politicians back East. All you can do is ensure your family is safe if something does happen, whether that be from a terrorist or some douchebag coming into your house trying to rob you. Getting the tools and training for protection and being self-reliant are just more insurance policies. You have life insurance, I’m sure; you have car and health insurance too. Why do you get those insurance policies? Preparing for a calamity is no different. There is nothing worse than having something occur and not being ready. Even Madison will look at you and ask, ‘Why don’t’ you do something?’ I guarantee it. I’d bet she’s never been in a situation before that requires having a gun. That’s the problem with our society. We’re so far removed from having to protect ourselves and the days of living under tyranny are in the distant past that they think it’s just history and can’t repeat itself. People have what I call normalcy bias.”

  The bartender came back and placed full pint glasses in front of them.

  The television broke into another breaking news story. Circuit Court Judge Allen in Washington State has placed a temporary restraining order on President Shade’s controversial travel ban and extreme vetting executive order. The restraining order stops the enforcement of the president’s order, allowing those from designation terror nations to come to the United States under the normal visa restrictions. Many on Capitol Hill and across the country, specifically immigrant and Muslim groups, are hailing the judge’s action. The protests still continue across twenty-seven different cities. We will now go back to your regularly scheduled program.

  Chris took his beer and took a large gulp. “Unfucking believable.”

  “I saw that coming. Things are so polarized, it’s not about what’s right,
but what’s politically expedient to appease a loud and vocal minority,” Brett said.

  “It’s the shit right there, that’s what’s going to get us all in trouble,” Chris growled.

  Brett took a long drink and thought back to something Chris had mentioned earlier. “What’s normalcy bias?”

  “It’s when people have a false belief that everything around them is the way it’s always been and always will be. You meet those people every day. I see it in the eye rolls of people when I tell them I’m stocked up for anything.”

  Brett took a long drink. He could think of several times he was the eye roller in his past.

  “Do you have a large supply of water? Food? I ask people all the time and again they think I’ve lost my mind. I then ask them if they think a big earthquake could happen in their lifetime. Their answer. Yes. But think stocking up is crazy. I’m over trying to convince the inconvincible.”

  “That’s something else I need to do.”

  “My advice is to just do it, don’t ask permission from your wife, just buy the stuff and put it in the garage.”

  “I’m not too worried about her response with that stuff.”

  “Good, you should get on it, then,” Chris said putting down his beer and picking up his phone. “I’m texting you a couple of places to order some stuff. Don’t go too crazy and try to be tacticool by buying a bunch of garbage that looks neat but you’ll never use.”

  Brett’s phone buzzed. He looked down at the phone sitting next to his beer and saw it was Madison texting.

  You coming home?

  “It’s Madison,” Brett said, picking up the phone, and replied, “I can come home?”

  Brett watched in anticipation as he could see she was replying by the bubble on his screen.

  “What’s up?” Chris asked.

  “Ah, nothing,” Brett said, still looking at the screen, waiting for her response.

  Sorry flashed on the screen followed by a frowny face.

  He quickly replied, “Coming home.” A smile stretched across his face, knowing she felt just as bad as he did about their fight.