The End

DECEMBER 4, 2014

San Diego, CA

“Oh my God,” Samantha gasped. She placed her hand over her mouth in shock.

“Mommy, where’s Hunter?” Haley asked.

“He’s upstairs playing in his room; now please be quiet for a moment,” Samantha said, not looking at Haley.

“Mommy, mommy I want juice,” Haley said, tugging on Samantha’s pants.

“One sec, Haley,” Samantha replied to her daughter.

“Mommy!” Haley yelled, ignoring her mother’s dismissal.

“Haley, please honey, one second!” Samantha raised her voice, “Mommy is watching something very, very important.”

Samantha could not take her eyes off the scenes coming from the television. Columns of smoke were pouring out of the stadium. Sadly, these images were becoming common now.

Beginning on September 6^th, there had been ongoing attacks across the country. From car bombs and suicide bombers to gunmen walking into malls, violence had become almost a daily occurrence. From Miami to, now, Seattle, it seemed as though no place in the United States was safe. The president tried to calm the nation the night before with a nationally televised address. He promised he was using every resource available to stop any future attacks.

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.

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 2500 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 2^nd Battalion 4^th Marines; it was everything he wanted it to be. They were under the command of Lt. Col. 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 which 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, DC

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 28 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,” Conner 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 and 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 5 feet 5 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.