Last Call America- Last Call Before Darkness Falls

by Debra Tash

  The ad panel slid shut, leaving us in complete darkness. Bradley switched on her helmet’s headlamp and shined the beam forward to reveal a narrow tunnel, as bullets pinged off the closed panel. The air smelled stale as if that passage had been sealed for centuries.

  “Move!” she barked.

  We followed. Every now and then, missiles pounded targets overhead. The claustrophobic tunnel quaked with each explosion, causing debris to pelt down on us. I mumbled a prayer under my breath that that tunnel wouldn’t become our tomb. Bradley picked up the pace as she navigated twists and turns, pushing us to go faster until we stopped at a place where the tunnel constricted.

  “Down!” she shouted.

  Down we went, crawling on our hands and knees. The gritty surface cut into my palms. Once back on our feet, we resumed the hurried tempo, led by a mad woman who navigated by an inner map we couldn’t possibly retrace.

  Nearly an hour passed before we came to a halt again. Bradley’s headlamp illuminated what looked to be a solid rock wall directly ahead of us.

  “Bitch!” the surviving enlisted snapped. “She led us to a dead end.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Bradley wheezed as she put both hands flat against the barrier.

  Minutes, long and drawn out, ticked away. My breath, I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt trapped as the tunnel closed in on me, my head spinning. I pulled off my helmet and leaned against the wall to keep from fainting. Bradley’s bare palms slid across the ragged surface, searching.

  “Find it,” I muttered, knowing it had to be one of the hidden locks she knew how to open. She had to find it soon. I didn’t have the energy to go back. I ran my hand over my stomach, thinking of the baby, my baby, Jason’s…

  Lois patted around a small jut of rock illuminated by her headlamp. She repeated a sequence several times until her efforts set off a sharp beep. Bradley put her fingers on either side of the protrusion and turned what looked to be part of the solid rock surface. She pushed the protrusion up and out of the way, revealing a keypad. Bradley punched in a code, then leaned close, letting a red beam sweep her eyes. The rock barrier slid back and away to expose a concrete passage. Lights flickered on, revealing some sort of room at the opposite end of the hallway. The lighting shone bright in the passage, but not in that room. Whatever lay inside was hidden in shadows.

  Bradley took a few steps forward, stopped, and looked over her shoulder.

  “Your friend…the senator took you here?” I probed.

  “Yes”—she shrugged—“my friend. I’ve been here. It’s the safest place in this damn city.”

  Our steps were measured, each footfall echoing as our boots hit the concrete floor. When we finally made it to the other side, I realized why this was the safest place in this particular city. I tipped up my chin to Lois. “We’re under the National Archives.”

  “Yes. In the vault,” she confirmed. “Sunk deep in the ground and surrounded by steel plates and concrete. Nothing can reach us here.”

  The walls were lined with drawers, numbered, and each with its own digital keypad. There were two cases, their contents sealed with thick glass on top, steel sides and bottom. They were illuminated with a faint spotlight. I walked up to one, but was unable to see through the caked dust. I bent my elbow, leaned forward, about to use my jacket to wipe it clean.

  “Stop!” Bradley snapped. She came over and used the keypad next to the case.

  We looked at one another, her eyebrow arched for a moment before she went to the other case and deactivated whatever safeguard protected its contents.

  I cleaned the glass, clearing away the neglect until I could see.

  My hands trembled as I read in silence.

  “The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America

  When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…

  We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed…”

  Bradley broke my concentration, saying, “You’re reading out loud.”

  “So what?” I grumbled as my hand balled into a fist atop the glass. Every word was loud and clear as I kept reading, conscious the others were listening now. “That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”

  “Don’t you get it? Damn it.” I chuckled, a bitter sound in my own ears. “They let us know there’s a way out.” My vision clouded with tears. “Told us we could throw off our shackles. They compelled us. At whatever cost. By whatever means.” I turned to the others. “They let us know we have a duty to be free.”

  I went to the other case and used my sleeve to hastily polish it. The tears slipped down my cheeks and splashed on the glass when I found it was really there. “Here…it’s all here. The Constitution. Our republic.” My heart broke. “What did we do with it? Please tell me…we didn’t…” I swallowed. “Didn’t throw it away. Piece by piece. Tear at it with greed. Grabbing for power. Replacing it with whatever the hell we thought was better.” I pushed my palms against the glass, a river of tears falling now. “Tell me we really weren’t that fucking stupid.”

  Someone’s hand rested on my shoulder. Someone who wanted to comfort me, reassure me they understood. I reached up, crossing my arm to find that hand with my own. It felt so cold, as if the life had been drained out of it,.

  I slowly straightened, swallowed again, and faced Bradley. Behind her, Adam Tao, his own eyes misted with tears. And even Lois’s features were painted with regret, yet still darkened by so much inner pain. I pressed the calloused flesh of her hand in mine.

  “He brought me here,” Lois muttered.

  “The senator?”

  She took a step back and pulled away her hand. “Lots of times. By way of the Capitol building. That way is easy. I had to take you through the punk tunnels. The Feds were always destroying them. Executing whoever dared to build one. But some of them are still there. Ones people built over the years for different reasons. Trying to escape, mostly. But there’s a clear way here from the Capitol. And the senator had the highest clearance. Taught me the codes and ordered my eye scan added to the security database. Highest clearance. No one ever questioned him.” She stopped, shaking her head, her voice barely audible. “He wanted me to remember when all I ever wanted to do was forget.”

  The soft sound of each breath we took, in and out, was the only sound. I looked at the ceiling, all the walls with thousands of sealed compartments labeled and secured with digital locks where the bulk of the documents must be stored. “The safest place in the city,” I echoed Bradley’s statement. “The best place. But without air vents and supplies, we can’t hold up here for long.”

  “There’s enough good air coming in from the tunnel system,” Miller, our lead, pointed out. He looked at his tab. “But there’s no signal. We’re cut off.”

  Lois walked to the opposite side of the room. Using her finger this time, she tapped a specific spot, again in a pattern. After a brief chime, what looked to be a part of the solid steel wall transformed into a large screen. It detached, floated free, and came to a stop, hovering in front of her. She touched one of the icons.

  Fresh air poured down on us. From where, I couldn’t tell and didn’t care. I savored it. The air smelled of earth, sweet wet grass, and late summer rain.

  Adam Tao stepped forward, but Miller made him stop. Our lead pushed aside, Tao came u
p next to Lois to work the monitor. The screen buzzed to life, filling with pixelated snow, then congealing into a clear view of a wide thoroughfare. It was marked on the screen—Pennsylvania Ave. Miller switched the view from static to roaming to give us an airborne perspective. To the west stood the Washington Monument. I got a closer look at it. The stone spire was in even worse condition than when I viewed it on the tact table. A deep, jagged crack ran from the bottom to nearly the top of the monument where the pinnacle had been broken off.

  The sky bore a sheet of slate-colored clouds, with a light shower falling. Flashes off in the distance weren’t summer lightning, but rockets, so many of them it made me wonder who was firing at whom. I leaned closer. “Did you see that?” It looked as if a missile had been triggered in mid-air.

  Miller checked a few readings on the monitor. “Their shield is still up.”

  “Just the CAP,” Tao said.

  We all turned to him.

  “There’s an auxiliary command center under the Capitol. Secured just like this vault. Entirely separate system from the grid. They can control all the city’s defenses from there.”

  “I don’t remember being told about anything like that,” Bradley snarled.

  Tao snarled back, “Because maybe your fucking senator didn’t know!”

  Bradley hefted her rifle. I used mine to knock hers clear just as she fired. The bullet ricocheted, luckily missing us and doing no harm to the document cases.

  “That’s the third time you kept the bitch from blowing a hole in me,” Tao said. “There’s a control center under the Capitol. I worked on it before being given the lead at the substation.”

  “You didn’t say anything about this command center at the substation,” Bradley snapped.

  “You were the enemy,” Tao spit at her before fixing his gaze on me, “then.” The Fed pointed to the screen. “They’ll blow your forces apart before they can make a dent in the city’s defenses.”

  “Nukes?”

  He nodded.

  “But even small tacticals would take out a huge number of civilians.”

  “You think they give a damn?”

  “Can we get inside?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You better think, Tao, whose side you’re on now.”

  He nodded.

  “Can you raise the base?” I asked Miller.

  Our lead made a few adjustments, the screen again pixelating for a moment before forming a perfect image. He had reached our base on a secured channel. The Command Center bustled, officers and enlisted, so much activity as they prepared for the invasion.

  “Jason,” I leaned forward and shouted, “Jason!”

  “Commander!”

  My husband made it over to whatever com had been activated. He had on his gear, prepared to lead the assault. He stared at the screen for a brief moment, his brow furrowed. “Beck?” He set down his helmet. “Beck, where the hell are you?”

  “In the belly of the beast. Listen, Jason, I have a plan.” I tried to tamp down my panic. “And we have to move fast.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Bradley got us to the Capitol building, but Tao secured our slim chance of success for the mission. If we could disable the shield long enough to destroy their command center, Jason could strike it and the city would fall. Dressed in one of the red and black uniforms Tao had secured for each of us, I shouldered the standard government-issue rifle, adjusted the armament belt, and pulled down the helmet’s visor. Tao made one last check of our chips, ID transmitters, pinned on the left side of our uniforms, one for each of us. He nodded. All good. We were ready.

  I cocked my head toward the door. Tao led the way down a long corridor beneath the Capitol. Scanners swept us. I saw them through the helmet’s vid, wave after wave of red light. No alarm. No hail of bullets. Whatever ID’s Tao had programmed into the chips allowed us safe passage, until the final hurdle. We’d made it through all the scanners and automated checkpoints, but the last checkpoint barring us from our goal was manned. A detail of four DHS agents stood watch at a doorway secured behind steel panels.

  “Facial recog!” one of them barked.

  “Yes, sir,” I answered, and made as if I were raising my visor to allow a facial scan.

  Almost in unison, the rest of our party snapped up their rifles and fired. The four DHS agents dropped. Tao scrambled, ripping a tab from one of the dead agents’ hands. A piercing alarm sounded just as the steel plates slid open. I tore a clutch of thin tubes from the arms belt at my waist and hurled the grenades through the open doorway. Several explosions—bam—bam—bam—as the grenades went off.

  We rushed in, rifles ready, the floor slippery with blood, the air tainted with the scent of copper and acrid smoke. Bits of metal and plaster and human flesh lay everywhere. Those explosions had torn apart everything within reach. I had to stay focused on our objective, nothing else, a single purpose—eliminate the shield. A countdown—I heard it, the minutes being marked off—to launch. The Feds were firing the nukes. We got off more rounds, hitting personnel, downing agents. I couldn’t tell how many, didn’t stop to think, didn’t stop to look back or weigh how many I’d killed. Even when the enemy took out one of our team, I went on, my finger pressing the trigger again and again.

  Tao made it to the main panel. I saw people, seven, maybe more, all with President Whitman—what was left of his cabinet, the governing class. I swung my rifle, aimed it at Whitman while Bradley and the rest of our team picked off the few surviving DHS bodyguards. The president raised his hands, the cabinet members following his lead. They were our prisoners.

  The countdown ceased. “Shield’s down!” Tao shouted.

  We completed our mission—the shield had come down. The alarm sounded again, even more shrill than before.

  “Clear!” Tao shouted and bolted for the closest doorway. “Incoming! Yours—ours—damn it—clear!”

  Whitman and his entourage beat us to the exit. The sons of bitches slammed the door shut. My sweaty palm slipped off the handle. One of the men pushed me aside and got it open. Bradley grabbed at my sleeve as we rushed into a marbled hall. Directly in front of us was an elevator, its polished metal doors sliding closed. Whitman. Defender of the ruling class. Traitor to the Constitution. Thinking, as always, of his own survival, even after he had ordered nuclear weapons be used on American ground. I yanked a grenade from my belt, set the trigger, and threw it into the elevator before the doors completely shut.

  The grenade blew—the polished metal buckled.

  “Hurry!” Tao yelped as he ran down the hall. “Hurry!” He turned and disappeared.

  I made it to where he’d turned, into a stairwell, switchbacks countless stories high. Tao had already climbed several of them by the time we rushed after him. Up and up and up. I grew winded, my arm aching from the weight of the rifle. But I wouldn’t let go of it, wouldn’t stop. Up and up and up.

  A swack sounded as Tao flung open the door at the top of the stairs. Out we went and through the rotunda, the grand hall with its reminders of a long lost past, with marble statues and the fevered sound of our flight, boots pounding against the floor. I could almost hear the echoes of lawmakers. People who were great and small, those who had built America and those who had torn it down. I shut out the echoes to focus on getting to the mall, to the large expanse of grass outside. I had to get away, forget everything else. I had to think only of myself, about the baby, about two lives, no one else. My head spun again as I ran down the steps in front of the Capitol. I couldn’t catch my breath. I yanked off my helmet and threw it to the ground. That single need drove me to run—get away. Get far away!

  A massive explosion. So intense I could feel the heat on my back even as the late summer rain pelted me. Like Lot’s wife, I couldn’t resist. I stopped and looked back. The Capitol dome had been hit. It collapsed as I watched, folding in like cardboard
as flaming tongues of fire licked at it. Another missile strike. Missile after missile—our missiles—smashing that grand building to dust.

  My energy spent, tears streamed down my checks again as a sharp pain shot through my gut. Nearly unbearable. I came crashing to my knees on the wet grass. The last thing I saw was unbelievable. The whole world had caught on fire. I fell backward, tumbling free. Then nothing but the blessed darkness.

  I slept. For days, it seemed, for years, drifting in peace. This soft unknowing bliss of being disconnected and with no one to account to enveloped me, caressed my soul. Then someone called me home, someone who had just entered the world in which I resided, who had rested a comforting hand on my belly.

  I slowly opened my eyes, at first staring at the ceiling, letting the acoustical tiles come into focus, their dappled white framed with bright steel. The strong odor of disinfectant, the stark lighting…I realize this was a hospital room. And that hand, the feel of its warmth on my belly, was someone I deeply loved. I pushed down in the soft pillow to let my head tip just a bit, my gaze landing on my husband as he touched me.

  My lips parted with his name, a sign, a welcome as I said, “Jason.”

  “Honey Beck,” he whispered in return.

  He cocked his head to me. For a moment, my breath caught. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and streaks of dried tears traced his cheeks. In all the time I’d known Jason Poole, even when I’d been gravely wounded at the battle of Boston, this man had never wept.

  “What’s wrong?” I whimpered, pushing myself up to sitting, fearing a pronouncement I didn’t want to hear.

  He remained silent.

  “Tell me!”

  “Tell me?” he grumbled. “You didn’t tell me, Beck.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Nearly four months?”

  I swallowed. “That far along?”

  His mouth tipped up in one corner. “It must have happened when we were in Texas.”