Shadow and Shine (Book 2): Dark Divide

by Danial Hooper

  “Whatcha thinkin’?” Mona asked.

  Harry didn’t even notice her sitting next to him. “It’s a good day to be alive, that’s all.”

  “I love hearing that. You deserve it.”

  “Why am I alive?” the question blurted out of his mouth.

  It surprised Mona too. “Oh… good question. What did the light tell you?”

  “I’m a redemption story. Wouldn’t be a story—”

  “Without redemption, exactly… so…” She rocked her shoulders back and forth. “…you’re alive to shine.” Her childish charm fell away. “Our story, your story, is about to be shaken up, though. So when things get dark, and they will, don’t forget why you’re alive.”

  Harry didn’t know what to say. It was the answer he needed, but not the one he expected. He didn’t expect anything, though. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Either way, Harry wouldn’t forget.

  “But, we’re safe behind these doors, right? Those Shadows aren’t coming anytime soon. And if they did, you and Asher can take care of it, right?”

  “My Pulse only goes so far, I can’t fight everyone.”

  April 16, 2016

  Night Four

  We have been called to shine upon the world and sift through the shadows.

  - President Uriah Watt

  *******

  Conrad Greene

  2030 (Eastern time)

  Washington, DC

  “I keep telling you to go home, and then pull you back in,” President Watt joked. “It’s not going to get better anytime soon, though. I appreciate everything you’ve done, and how quick you are to jump back into battle beside me. You’re a good man, Conrad. Once the dust settles with the UN and Salt Lake, I’ll give you all the leave you need, so you can get some peace and quiet.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m not fond of the quiet to begin with. And peace is—”

  “After tonight, we’ll be okay. The plan is set. You know Marshall will do what’s necessary.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you,” President Watt said, “Now, please sit down so these ladies can finish my makeup. One of them might bite your head off if we keep talking.” The makeup girl smiled at Conrad while powdering Uriah’s nose. It was another reminder of why Conrad never would want to be president, the idea of someone putting makeup on his face didn’t sit right with him. Yet, President Watt became comfortable with it while he was campaigning during his first election. Now, he sat with three women expertly maneuvering around his face while he reviewed his transcript unaffected. Conrad shook the President’s hand and headed towards the seating area.

  There were three rows set up behind the cameras.

  The First Lady sat in the front middle, beside a sign with Conrad’s name. He sat in his assigned seat and began chatting with Dawn Watt. As always, their conversation started with mutually admiring Uriah. Dawn was the ideal First Lady; strong, wise, patient, and always reminding the nation of her husband’s compassion. Conrad knew Uriah found pulling a trigger just as easy as signing his name, but Dawn Watt’s presence was able to cover this side of the President.

  Conrad peered over Dawn at the empty seat to her left, it was meant for Vice President Eric Johnson. Johnson and Watt’s relationship was strained, ever since he announced his plans to run for President in the upcoming election but did not receive an instant endorsement from President Watt. It didn’t take an expert to know, Uriah was waiting for Conrad’s decision.

  This made conversations with the VP filled with tension. Men like him weren’t afraid to puff up their chests to come off as tough, just like Arthur Hale, and Conrad rarely did anything to stop it. He wasn’t going to arm wrestle with a beauty queen. Those types of men were cut from the same cloth; cowardice was the fabric. Conrad didn’t need to prove himself.

  “Are you going to miss these, Mrs. Watt?” Conrad asked, scanning the room.

  She leaned close, but didn’t take her eyes off her husband, and whispered “I’ve spent two terms, eight years, missing my husband. Go figure, the wife of a soldier doesn’t feel like she misses him until he goes into politics. There is nothing about this place I’ll miss.” She returned to sitting upright and continued, “Other than the garden… I’ll miss the garden.”

  This was Dawn. Someone carefully willing to be blunt, while maintaining her sweetness. Conrad responded, “The flowers are very pretty this time of year.”

  “You’re not a flower guy, Greeny. Don’t pretend to be what you’re not. Uriah is already trying to get you to be a politician, don’t become a botanist too,” she said, smiling.

  Sarah Francis led a large group of people into the oval office. She looked to Uriah and nodded while speaking with a White House employee walking behind her. Towards the end of the group, Vice President Eric Johnson entered with a white-haired politician. Conrad recognized his face, but he wasn’t someone who spent enough time in the White House for Conrad to know.

  Johnson ignored Conrad and stood by Dawn. She remained seated, he was close to make it difficult for her to stand.

  He looked at Conrad out of the corner of his eye and said, “Mrs. Watt, allow me to introduce—”

  Dawn cut him off, “Governor Reese Kimball.” She grabbed on Johnson’s coat sleeve and pulled herself up. “Great to see you. I would offer you a seat, but your name was not on the roster for tonight.”

  Reese Kimball was the governor of Utah. He stood close enough to VP Johnson they could have been one another’s ventriloquists. Kimball was nobody in Washington, even by Conrad’s standards, until the Salt Lake City fires and the subsequent closed borders. Kimball was spending the weekend in Las Vegas when the borders were closed. Kimball became a figurehead for Americans who missed their Utah-based family.

  Kimball said, “No apologies needed, ma’am. I’m grateful for Eric’s invitation. We agreed it was a good idea for me to be here.”

  Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Oh, well I’m pleased to hear the Vice President has taken matters into his own hands.” The politicians’ fake smiles became even more forced, their pearl teeth shined with desperation. Kimball noticed Conrad’s stares and cleared his throat. Conrad didn’t look away. He was here as another partner for Johnson’s candidacy. The men were freeloading off one another.

  Two parasites walk into the oval office…

  Uriah motioned for the Vice President’s attention. Johnson followed orders and walked over. Kimball followed like a puppy. He was intimated by Dawn’s direct demeanor, and it was safer to ride in the back pocket of Johnson. This was another man whom Conrad could not fathom why the American people would support him.

  “I enjoy him less every day. Of the wonderful decisions my husband has made, Eric Johnson is the only one I never supported.” Dawn said.

  After a few minutes, the seating finally began to fill. Christopher Martin arrived, as did Sarah Francis, and Conrad looked around for other members of President Watt’s secret advisors.

  In the back, leaning inside the door, was a man Conrad was not expecting to see here. His presence made Conrad’s blood cold. It was a different feeling compared to how Conrad reacted with a man like Hale or Johnson or Kimball. This man’s attendance brought concern. Seeing Gathe in the Oval Office gave Conrad pause.

  He was not afraid of the baby-faced soldier, but he should be with Sergeant Major Marshall collecting samples of dust, not attending the presidential announcement in DC. In order for Gathe to be here, Marshall must have him on a separate mission.

  “We’re on in twenty seconds, everyone. Quiet down,” Sarah Francis commanded.

  Conrad searched the room for any other irregularities. If Gathe was here, then his mission was deemed more important than Salt Lake City. Would President Watt sanction a special mission? Conrad didn’t agree with being left out of another decision.

  “Fellow Americans, we have been told before of the irrefutable truth of our inability to escape history. We of this administration, the representatives of this nation, will b
e remembered for both what we have done, as well as that which we have failed to do. This truth is the core reason why I sit here today to discuss with you the current status of our affairs. I take the liberty of addressing you on the matter of the welfare of our great nation.

  The last time I addressed you, we were shocked by the nature of the Salt Lake City fires. This type of reaction is not short-lived, as we continue to feel the confusion over the true nature of the events in Salt Lake City. As I am before you today, I hope to offer clarity.

  I will not hold back from being direct with the American public, for despite the weakness we may feel, the state of our union has never been stronger. Relief efforts, financial support, and national gatherings of prayer have been stark reminders of the strength found deep in the heart of every American. This is why I am compelled to speak to you tonight.

  Salt Lake City was the victim of a terrorist attack, which caused over two hundred thousand casualties. This is information I have known since April 12, the first night, but made the decision to withhold from public knowledge until now.

  My reasoning is a reaction to the details of the attack. To be frank, we have yet to understand the means of how this terrorist organization has taken so many lives. The fires were real, but they are only the beginning of the attacks. There is also a poisonous gas emitted, one that has prevented entrance. That is, up until today. American scientists have been able to examine the potential airborne threats and are now able to withstand the severity of the substance. We will take a course of action to enter into Salt Lake City to find the terrorists, while holding hope of finding survivors.

  “Satellite footage has been blocked from public access because we could not risk allowing the terrorist sect to see the national reaction to the damage they committed. This was a decision made by myself and my military advisors in order prevent our enemies to gloat while we mourn.

  Make no mistake, we have identified the location of the hiding terrorists and will close in tonight. I ask for your understanding and patience while we pursue justice. Until then, the details must remain shrouded.

  In light of this, our cabinet has created a new political office. This position will focus solely on the national demand to protect our country from both foreign and domestic threats. We need a leader of utmost integrity, compassion, motivation, and experience to take full lead over our military and police forces. As president, I have named General Conrad Greene the Constitutional General of United States Armed Forces. With this role, Conrad will command the United States Military forces while following Vice President Johnson in the line of succession. We will release more details on this role as it continues to evolve. Conrad Greene is my most trusted ally, a man with no equal in his love for his country. He is a patriot. He will help us through this.

  Some are looking for an apology due to the lack of disclosure on Salt Lake City. I have no regret in this matter, though. I hope you all understand the nature of the organization we are chasing, as well as the potential for further damage to be done. I will not jeopardize your safety while appeasing your desires. Before all else, I am an American, and I answer to the American public. I am also responsible for making decisions which are for the long term benefit for our nation. This is the only reason you have not been told until now.

  We are a nation in mourning for our brothers and sisters after the attack on Salt Lake City. This dark trial which we are passing through needs every individual to become a light for one another. A light of honor, a light of respect, a light of love. I ask all to stand together, united, with the belief in our nation to protect one another from those who want to spread darkness over our illumination.

  Since the beginning of American history, we have been called to shine upon the world and sift through the shadows. We are a nation of a peaceful revolution taking place every day.

  This nation’s destiny continues to rest in the hands and heads and hearts of its millions of good men and women. As we move forward, I ask you to keep in mind our mutual responsibility. Our greatest strength is our strength in numbers. Thank you, and God bless.”

  Conrad was the first to stand and clap.

  There was not a person who remained seated as the speech came to an end.

  *******

  Jake Oberhausen

  6:48 p.m. (Mountain time)

  Willard, UT

  Jake underestimated the distance from the Blue Tree to Chef John’s farmhouse, and was almost an hour late. He made the decision to walk because he wanted to enjoy the fresh air, but he fully regretted it by the time he was making his way up the lane to John’s house. The extra hour of walking gave him the opportunity to lament over asking someone for a ride home later in the evening. He barely knew Chef John, and didn’t know him well enough to feel confident in Chef John’s friends. Sometimes, people can be really nice in small doses but nightmares in the comfort of their own home.

  The house was south of Brigham City, which meant Jake had a closer view of the ashy clouds from Salt Lake City’s fires. Even in the dark sky, Jake saw them rolling and moving inside themselves. There was a stark difference between those clouds and the Great Salt Lake resting to the west. The house was fantastic, though. It was a remodeled, red farmhouse with a giant window on the top floor (presumably the master bedroom) and surrounding horse property. It was too dark to see any horses, but Jake heard them as he approached the front door.

  Chef John opened the door before Jake could knock. “Hey man! Come on in.”

  The first thing Jake noticed was how different Chef John looked without his work outfit. It wasn’t something he thought about before, but he was surprised by the blue jeans and the faded tie dye shirt with a cartoon deer drinking beer with a hunter.

  “This house is beautiful,” Jake said, marveling as he walked into the living room. To his right was a large table with appetizers and finger foods. Jake smiled thinking about how Elizabeth would have loved to come there. The house was her style; quiet, rustic, but still modern. Not to mention, she was a woman who appreciated a good party spread. “Did you make all that?”

  “Of course.” Chef John dipped a peeled shrimp in cocktail sauce. “There’s a full bar over there. I’m a chef, not a bartender, so you gotta make your own drinks. Mi casa, su casa.”

  “Wow. Well, okay then,” Jake looked around. He couldn’t wait to bring Elizabeth here for dinner sometime. All the regrets about going there were dying off. “Um… where is everyone though?”

  “They’re downstairs watching the President and…” Chef John’s eyes squinted as he searched Jakes face. “Do you smoke?”

  Oddly, Jake was recently thinking about how much he could use a cigarette. The stress of his wife being gone made him either want to become a drunk, or start smoking again. “It’s been almost five years since I had a cigarette, Elizabeth made me quit.”

  Chef John shook his head. “No, no. Not cigarettes.” He grabbed another shrimp and smothered it in sauce.

  Jake wasn’t normally naive, but he didn’t get it. “What are you talking about then…” he trailed off when he realized what he was missing. “Oh, ha! I’m an idiot. Sorry. I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to it. It’s all homegrown, right down in the basement. It makes watching the news more enjoyable, and the President’s speeches usually make sense. There’s plenty to share. Like I said, mi casa, su casa.”

  “Thanks man, I think I’ll stick up here and enjoy the food before they come up with the munchies. Besides, I don’t even think a joint could make me want to watch the news right now. Unless it’s about me being able to go home, I don’t want to hear it.”

  *******

  Marcel Reyes

  1918 (Mountain time)

  North of Salt Lake City, UT

  Reyes sat in the Hummer’s cramped backseat with two other soldiers. In the middle was Nino, an over-muscled operator with a bad haircut and stereotypical tattoos. Reyes didn’t find men like this to be intimidating, h
e thought they looked like caricatures from bad movies. The other operator was Jordan, a quiet black man with a shaved head. They were opposites, but they were equally deadly.

  Reyes didn’t have direct experience with either man, but Marshall selected only the best for his special team. His men were known as extremely loyal and obedient. Reyes didn’t see how he fit in, but his experience with General Greene must have granted special privileges.

  Dr. Chatra sat in the passenger seat while Sergeant Major Marshall drove through the empty city north of Salt Lake. The gruff voice of Sergeant Major Marshall rang into Reyes’s earpiece, “Alright boys, it's time, we’re less than a click from Site Delta. It is my pleasure and duty to remind you ladies… the moment we stop, is the moment we go.”

  Reyes understood how to escort a high priority civilian through high risk locations. Every stop, quick. Every sense, heightened. Civilians were easy targets, it was the team’s job to protect them. Dr. Chatra was here to obtain samples, and while Reyes believed this should have been completed by a soldier, Dr. Chatra’s safety was priority.

  No matter how dangerous or volatile the substance might be, Dr. Chatra didn’t have to be here. There were plenty of operators who knew how to work in a hazmat suit. However, Marshall made the decision.

  Everything about this mission was unconventional, including the presence of Sergeant Major Marshall. Marshall should no longer be on the battlefield. It has been years since he could pass the physical requirements. Yet, he traded in his sparkly suit for a body-vest and a white-camouflage uniform.

  Nino caught him scanning Marshall and scowled at Reyes. Reyes smiled back at him and nodded his head. “I never thought I would fight beside the legend.” He had plenty of experience dealing with erratic teammates and even more experience dealing with killers. “Or earn one of those knives.” Nino smiled as Reyes pointed at his new knife. The tradition of Marshall giving his special operators a poisonous knife was real, and Reyes wouldn’t deny it; it was pretty cool. Nino pointed down to his as well. Reyes would build a bridge with this idiot before they made it to Site Alpha.