“Seth!”
“Tabby!”
She could hear her husband’s voice. It was muffled, and seemed to come from the other side of the rubble.
“Seth, I’m here.”
“Are your injured?”
She touched the back of her head again, choosing to ignore the injury. “I’m okay, are you hurt?” she yelled through the wall.
There was pause.
“No, I don’t think so, but I’m trapped, and I can hear someone else asking for help.” His voice was calm, steady. He was a surgeon, like she was, and very few things rattled their cages.
Tabby looked around for a way out. There were two paths of exit from the bathroom. She could go over the rubble where the door had once stood, or…she looked around and spotted a hole in the back wall, where light shined through. She crouched down to get a better look at the hole; there was some sort of storage room on the other side of the wall.
“I think I have a way out of here,” she yelled. “I’ll be right there. The first responders should be here soon,” she offered, still not understanding what had happened to the six million people that lived in metro Atlanta. “Just hold tight, I’m coming.”
“Okay,” Seth answered.
“Hurry,” a second voice, spoke. It was a female voice, soft and muffled.
The second voice shot a rush of adrenaline up Tabby’s spine. She started to wonder where other people were?
Why haven’t people tried to rescue us, or call out to us, or anything? Do they not know what happened to us?
Tabby gently poked her head through the opening in the wall. The door at the back of the room had been blown off, and hung at an awkward angle. The light from outside penetrated the room, illuminating a path for Tabby to escape the building. She just needed to get through the hole in the wall first.
She looked at the structure of the interior wall, and then kicked at the wall- board to make the opening larger. Once large enough, she squeezed her small frame through the gap between two 2x4 wooden studs and into the supply room. She grabbed a bundle of towels that had been shrink wrapped for sterility, a bottle of water for whatever she might have to irrigate, and stepped through the exterior door.
“Oh my God!” she gasped, dropping the towels and water.
The sight of the orange mushroom cloud rising over Atlanta caused her to stop in her tracks and fall to her knees.
CHAPTER 3
The Tiller Farm
Grace didn’t speak to her parents for the rest of the day and into the night. She was angry, very angry that her entire life had been a lie.
For more than 18 years, she had lived a life thinking she was an all American girl with overprotective parents that happened to be really adept at personal protection, languages, and oh yea…lying about who they really were!
They had talked with her for almost thirty minutes outside after she asked them about why her analog watch suddenly had a blue light flashing behind the face. Her parents didn’t try to deny anything about working with the CIA; they were very open. Grace stopped listening after they revealed that the Agency had full intentions of recruiting her.
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Grace lay awake on the top bed of one of the bunks in the shelter under the Tiller’s farmhouse. She nervously rotated her foot back and forth at a rapid pace, causing the bed to constantly move and squeak.
“I’m surprised you haven’t woken Anna up yet, or at least made her seasick,” Joshua whispered from the other top bunk in the room.
Grace stopped bouncing her foot, suddenly mindful of her bunkmate below. Anna was snoring softly; her nose and eye were still tender, and she had a real hard time breathing when she slept.
“She’s out cold,” Grace retorted. “All that taking care of your brother, you know,” she offered, with a tinge of sarcasm.
“She does seem to be there for him, doesn’t she?” he asked, agreeing with her.
“What ever,” Grace said, rolling over and facing the wall opposite of Joshua’s voice.
Joshua looked up at the dimly lit ceiling of the bomb shelter, thinking about everything he and Grace had been through over the last few days. The two of them had fought back trained soldiers and helped cripple the PNA communications structure. He had even got to blow up a water tower, but he had no idea how to move forward with Grace. He didn’t know what to do, or even what to ask. She had instantly become angry after a conversation with her parents and had been unapproachable since that meeting. Was she like this before the war?
“How can I help you deal with what ever it is you’re dealing with?” Joshua asked, treading as lightly as he could.
Grace didn’t respond; she glared at the concrete wall next to her bed; her back still faced Joshua. She knew that he was trying to help, but she had no idea how to accept his help. How could I confide in him about what my parents are hiding? Is it really that bad that I found out who they actually are? Is it really that bad that they trained me to be like them? Their training saved me!
“Was it something I did?” Joshua tried again.
Grace actually smiled at that one, and she rolled over to face him across the hallway of the bunker. Joshua sat up and leaned against the wall, dangling his feet off of his own top bunk. She did the same on her bed, and they faced each other with a concrete pathway in the bunker being the only separation. Anna continued to snore, even with the extra movement from the top bunk.
“No,” she said, quietly. “It’s nothing you did.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Grace thought for a second, and then nodded. “But not here.”
“Okay,” Joshua offered. “It’s two in the morning, almost everyone’s asleep, I’ve got guard duty in an 30 minutes, so let’s go outside and talk,” he offered.
Grace had never met anyone quite like Joshua. He was about a year older than she was, but they both seemed to consider each other as equals. He was very handsome, with dark sandy brown hair and farm boy muscles. He was smart; smarter than he let people know he was, and he was much more relaxed than the boys Grace knew from school or church. Joshua was different, and she kind of liked it.
She nodded an approval of the idea, and then seem to pivot with her sentiments. Her face relaxed, as if she was lowering a small window into her emotions for Joshua to see. “Have you ever had someone you love lie to you?” she asked, her voice cracking on the word ‘love.’
Joshua looked at her face for a minute. It was one of the first times that he had seen an emotion from her besides determination, evasiveness or anger; he kind of liked it. “Yeah, I have.”
“How’d that make you feel?” she asked, her voice lined with trepidation.
He didn’t want to talk about his past hurt; he wanted to stay focused on Grace and her problems. “Listen, you’re parents seem pretty cool to me,” he offered, somehow knowing that this had to be about them. “If they are the ones that hurt you, I am sure that is not what they were meaning to do.”
She nodded. “I know,” she whispered, surprising herself with agreement. “It’s just, I don’t know what’s real anymore. Things have changed so much in the last few days. Maybe it’s all just getting to me.” She wiped a sparkle of moisture from the rim of her eyes.
“Look, let’s gear up,” Joshed offered, climbing quietly off of his top bunk and putting his hand on her knee, which was at his eye-level. “I know you don’t want to talk here.”
“Right,” she agreed, and slid off of her own top bunk. She was careful to notice the tingle in her leg left there by Joshua’s touch. She had not expected that.
“Good!” Anna said, surprising them from the bottom bunk. “Cause, I want to get some sleep and you two are driving me crazy,” she said, rolling over with a humph.
CHAPTER 4
The Tiller Farm
Ten minutes later Joshua checked the clip of ammunition before slapping it in his Ruger SR-762 rifle and charging the first 7.62 armor piercing round. His father, the
former Marine sniper, had a ‘thing’ about using the armor piercing rounds. He liked the weight, the way they flew and their ability to punch through objects to kill people.
Now loaded, Joshua watched Grace run through a similar routine, using one of the Tiller’s smaller caliber AR-15s. Her rounds were also armor piercing, but just not with the same amount of punch as the 7.62.
They checked each other over for anything loose or that might make noise and then stepped off of the front porch and waited for Ian to make his way back to the front porch.
The evening was cool and bright. The moonlight spilled over the farm leaving silver edged shadows along a colorless ground. Grace looked up at the stars and the bright moon. She found it hard to believe that a shroud of evil blanketed something so peaceful as what was above her. She mindlessly looked at her analog watch; it had stopped blinking blue several hours earlier. She mentally noted that they had about 33 hours until the PNA’s deadline for the states to leave the USA and join the PNA. A cheerful thought.
“Where is he?” Joshua whispered, snapping her from her multiple contemplations.
“No telling,” Grace whispered back. “He has always been able to sneak up on me. He was like a ninja master at hide-n-seek when I was growing up.” She smiled at the memory; the thought of her family overriding anger.
A minute later, Ian appeared as a dark shadow crossing the distance from the stables to the house.
“You weren’t kidding,” Joshua whispered. “He’s like a shadow warrior.”
Grace didn’t acknowledge; anger was bubbling back up with the appearance of her father. She was conflicted.
“I was patrolling towards the utility barn when I heard you guys come outside and charge your weapons,” Ian said, looking down at his watch. “You’re a little early, I thought I was on until three.”
“I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d relieve you early,” Joshua explained.
He nodded at Joshua and then turned to his daughter. “You pitching in, too?”
“Is that okay?” Grace kept her tone even.
Ian looked back and forth between the two and smiled. “Sure thing, Gracie,” he didn’t let her respond. “It’s been pretty quiet. There was one formation of helicopters that flew close by about two hours ago, but they were headed towards the city. They didn’t seem to care about anything around here; which is odd, considering the amount of damage we caused them,” he added. “I thought I heard one car on the road and I saw one set of headlights about ten miles away on that pass,” he pointed. “Somewhere up around your water tower handiwork,” Ian said, looking directly at Joshua.
“Anything on the radio?” Grace asked.
“No real local intel on the shortwave,” he said, tapping the earphone in his left ear. “There was some chatter about battles happening in Texas and Louisiana. Sounds like just west of here is where the real stuff is going down. New Orleans seems to be a black hole. People keep trying to raise other short-wave users there, but nothing. A few National Guard units have formed back up just east of here across the Georgia state line. They are asking for volunteers to help in the fight. We might see them roll through here sometime soon.”
“Sir, I have a question,” Joshua asked, assuming Ian was finished with his report.
“Shoot,” Ian answered, while his eyes continue to scan the darkness of the vast farm.
“What’s your take on what the President said during his address? I mean the part about Senator Payne working for the Chinese?” Joshua asked.
Ian looked back at Joshua; he really liked the Tiller boys. Each one of them had leadership qualities. They each were independent thinkers and each one was fearless enough to get killed doing something brave. All attributes that the country needed right now.
“I have met him a few times,” Ian remarked, his mind dark with the memory. “The first time was during his first term; we were in Iraq. He was part of a diplomatic mission, and my Ranger platoon was part of his greater security detail. He also serves on the Armed Service Committee, where I have had a few run-ins with him doing my job.
Grace raised an eyebrow at her father’s use of the word job. Do you mean working as a VP for the gun company, or as an agent for the CIA? She thought.
“What do you mean by run-in?” Joshua probed further.
“To be honest with you Joshua, the SOB almost got me killed, and I never really let him forget that. Call it one of my annoying personality traits,” Ian offered, flatly.
“So you don’t trust him?” Grace asked, with an emphasis on the word trust.
“Gracie, as you know, I think trust should be earned through action,” Ian said, pausing to gauge his daughter. He knew that she was still trying to process the changes in their life, as well as the secrets that shrouded their family.
There was a long pause between the three. Grace was trying not to grind her teeth; she was confused and wanted everything back the way it used to be before the attack.
“So,” Ian continued. “No, I don’t trust him at all.”
“Do you think anyone saw this coming? I mean the attack or Payne jumping sides?” Joshua asked.
“The attack?” Ian posed. “I think there had to be some chatter or intel before something this big went down. I’m sure the FBI or CIA was on it…but obviously they ran out of time,” he added somberly.
“But Payne would have been in a position to keep a lid on it. Wouldn’t he?” Grace asked, her mind leaping through the pieces of conversation, looking for an answer. “Being on the Senate Armed Service Committee, I mean.”
Ian nodded positively. “That’s right. He directly oversaw the Intelligence Community, and as a third term senator, the man had plenty of power to do about anything he wanted,” Ian agreed, letting a deep breath escape.
“So, how well did you know him?” Joshua asked.
“I guess, well enough. Unfortunately,” Ian admitted. “In fact, the last time I was in D.C. we were in the same room together on the Hill. He acknowledged me with a nod from across the room,” Ian said, shaking his head. “Which is something that ass has never done since we were in Iraq.”
“Where were you?” Joshua asked. “I mean on the Hill.”
“We were in one of the halls, he was giving a briefing to reporters. It was crowded, so for him to single me out with the nod was…was unusual. I was there to meet with a sub-committee chairman. Payne was droning on to the Press about cyber security and the shipping ports,” Ian’s voice trailed off, as his face seemed to lose what complexion it may have held in the moonlight.
“What, Dad?” Grace’s asked. Her anger and confusion ebbed away with each second she spoke with her father.
Ian didn’t say anything; he was puzzling through facts in his head. Through the course of the conversation he had figured something out about the attack and how it was connected to Payne.
“He tipped his hand. Didn’t he?” Grace offered, as she tried to read the thoughts that were coursing through her father’s mind.
Ian nodded slowly in agreement with his daughter.
“So, he knew this was going to happen,” Grace said. “He was a traitor standing in front of you. He had already set the wheels of this war into motion.”
“Exactly,” Ian said.
“He was broadcasting how the attack was going to go down, I mean with the security of the ports and all,” Joshua offered. “It was just noise to the media.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Ian said, his forehead seemed wrinkled in thought.
“Do you think he tipped his hand because it was you?” Grace asked. “You know, because he had some past history with you?” Her voice trailed off with the next question. “Daddy, do you think he thought you were going to die during the attack?”
Ian looked at the beauty of his daughter; a flash of the death that Senator Payne wanted for him flew across his eyes. That’s not going to happen. “Yeah, I think that’s a fair assessment, Gracie. The man was always rash with a quick decision and never considering the co
nsequences. There was no love lost between us. He was openly talking to the media about how unsecured the cyber security was at our ports, and he was about to open the door for the Chinese to belly right up to the docks using the very security issues his committee was addressing. I guess, if the attack took me out too, well, so much the better for his plan. Damn.” Ian paused and looked up at the moon. “Well, that didn’t happen, did it?” he said, still looking at the moon.
Grace looked at the resolve coming from her father. The man had survived the last several days because of the same resolve…something that he had instilled in her. She was grateful, and began to look at her father and mother in an entirely different light. She suspected that her father was most likely anything but just ‘on the good senator’s security team’ back in Iraq. There had to be more, but that secret and others would come in their own time.
Ian looked around the grounds once more before turning towards Joshua and Grace. “I’m going to hit the rack,” he said, effectively shutting down the conversation. “We really can’t do much about all of that now. Can we?” He didn’t wait for a response. “It’s your watch,” he said, moving past the teens and going inside.
“It’s our watch,” Joshua responded.
CHAPTER 5
40 Miles West of Atlanta, Georgia, USA
Dr. Seth Cadet pulled the edge of an Army green blanket over the face of a child he had been treating for the last five days. Nicholas was a ten-year-old boy that had lost the lower half of his right arm; he had no idea what had happened to his parents or sister. The last thing that Nicholas remembered was being asleep in the back of his mother’s minivan on the interstate. Seth and Tabby had found the boy in the Starbucks parking lot the day the bomb had gone off in Atlanta.
Seth felt the warm female hand of Dr. Tabatha Cadet grip the round of his shoulder. She was standing behind him as he sat on the edge of Nicholas’ cot. He reached up to intertwine his fingers with the familiar hand of his wife. It was the only familiar thing left to him, as he looked around at the hundreds of other cots that were aligned in the massive Army medical tent. Each cot held a person. Each person had suffered from the explosion in one-way or another. Unfortunately, Seth and Tabby were losing people faster than they could save them.
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