Mirror, Mirror at 1600 D.C.

by Edward Galluzzi

  It was not long before Harrison reached the main sitting room where he had unsuccessfully penetrated the ranch just hours ago. He walked over to the wall opposite the bar where he observed Hawthorne placing papers in the safe. Harrison stood in front of the wall and pushed his hand gently over the wallpaper feeling for the panel that provided passage to the vault. It did not take long to expose the panel and safe. Harrison had neither the time nor the equipment to ascertain the correct position of the tumblers, but instead withdrew a small container from his pocket that contained plastic explosives. He carefully removed the explosive and pressed it around the tumbler of the safe. Harrison stuck a small fuse in the explosive and lit it. He ran quickly across the room to protect himself behind the bar. Harrison did not have to wait long for the loud blast. He hurried across the room back to the safe and withdrew every document that he found. Harrison discovered and left a considerable amount of money untouched in the safe. He retraced his path to the side of the ranch house from which he made his entrance. Harrison knew that the blast would bring nearby guards and patrols, but he was in no position to fight the multitudes. He glanced at his watch and was encouraged that Mentor’s reinforcements would soon penetrate the ranch’s perimeter. Harrison reached the outer door and stopped. He opened it quietly and glanced outside. He saw no visible guards or sentries. Harrison quickly left the house and ran toward the opposite cover of brush and trees. As he paused to consider his next move, he heard the crackle of weaponry in the distance. There was no doubt in his mind that Mentor’s reinforcements began infiltrating the perimeter of the terrorists’ camp. Harrison buried quickly the documents that he retrieved from Hawthorne’s safe. He marked the area so that he could easily recognize it once the impending battle was over. Harrison ran back to the ranch house. He was determined to make the house unusable as a fortress for the insurgents who were likely to retreat to the ranch when overrun by government agents.

  Harrison entered the ranch house through the now familiar side entrance. He heard voices inside the house, but they were muffled. Harrison’s goal was simple: head for the lower level where he was imprisoned and the corpse of the President of the United States, a.k.a., Marilyn Hawthorne, lay in repose. More important, the lower level was home to an arsenal of weaponry and explosive devices. Harrison was determined to set the explosives—if time permitted. He grabbed a pack from the arsenal and quickly counted the number of bombs and timers, noting ten of each. Harrison decided that the number of detonators was sufficient to destroy the home. He glanced toward the cell where the body of Hawthorne’s wife rested, but he saw nothing. Harrison ran to the remaining cells and observed nothing. They were all inexplicably empty.

  Harrison had no time to ponder the whereabouts of what Hawthorne suspected was the President of the United States. He knew that he had to work quickly and began by setting one of the charges in the middle of the arsenal. He glanced at his watch and knew that only ticks of the clock were left before the retreating terrorists entered the ranch house and blockaded themselves in the well-armed fortress. Harrison shook his head and exclaimed, “Damn!” as his hand on the timer trembled slightly when he set the clock for ten minutes. He grabbed the remaining nine explosives and ran quickly up the staircase. Harrison headed toward the main sitting room and set several explosives there. He set their timers for eight minutes. Harrison then headed toward the rear of the ranch house hoping to plant charges there as well. However, his progress was restrained by the voices of terrorists who were plotting their own strategy. Harrison counted seven men and knew that their presence impeded his plan. These terrorists would have to be eliminated if Harrison was to succeed.

  Harrison exclaimed, “Damn!” Once again he knew that the explosive would have to be timer-set much like a grenade, five seconds or less, if he hoped to terminate his targets. Harrison set the timer for only three seconds. He calculated he had a second to throw back his arm, a second for the explosive to transverse the air, and a final fatal second to descend among the unsuspecting militants. There could be neither any error nor time left over for reaction. The explosive had to cause immediate death to result in an inescapable conclusion. Harrison took a deep breath and set the explosive in his hand for three seconds. He took another deep breath and exhaled as he released the timer. Harrison quickly drew back his arm and pause momentarily looking like a quarterback passing for the final “Holy Mary” play of the game. The man-made grenade sped through the air and hit one of the terrorists. The device exploded as it descended to the ground, killing or seriously wounded the insurgents who were plotting their counteroffensive.

  Harrison estimated that he had about three minutes before the arsenal below him carved its path through the floor beneath his feet. He hurried to the main entrance of the ranch house and set two more charges. Harrison latched the main door to help delay what penetration might occur. He thought momentarily as he realized that his own life was now at risk—a risk perpetuated by his own hands. Harrison headed toward the side exit and found himself at the door. The charges would explode in a few tics and he knew that he must run for cover. Harrison darted out the door and only took half dozen steps before the first of the multiple explosions tore through the ranch house.

  Chapter 28

  The Confrontation

  “Holy hell!” exclaimed Harrison as he escaped from the erupting and disintegrating ranch house. He was uncertain whether he could outrun the flying rubble, but he was not going to take the time to calculate his odds. Harrison ran at Olympic speed knowing that he had to win this qualifying sprint if he was to finish his mission. Pieces of the ranch house fell all around him, entrapping him in a circle of fiery debris. Harrison continued his quick pace, but was knocked to the ground by flying wreckage that hit him from behind like a whaler’s harpoon. His forward progress ended abruptly and he thought that his life might as well. Harrison found himself in the dirt and in a defensive posture as he covered his head with his hands. He hoped to shield himself from the persistent hail of exploding debris. Despite the seriousness of his circumstances, Harrison found himself thinking of the clip from the “Wizard of Oz” when the home of Dorothy came falling down on the wicked witch of the west. He recalled the line, “Be gone before somebody drops a house on you!” Harrison would like to ‘be gone;’ however, his vulnerability was exposed, as he lay shrouded in the dust.

  Small pieces of fiery debris continued to pummel Harrison, but the quantity and intensity were lessening. He slowly removed his hands from his head and turned his face away from earth’s soil. Harrison peered toward the ranch house. What he saw amazed him as the ranch house was leveled to the ground. The home had lost its structure and it was anybody’s guess as to what rested in the twisted heap.

  Harrison raised himself from the ground. He did not have time to survey the destruction for the crackling of gunfire was almost upon him. Harrison took cover near the area where he buried Hawthorne’s documents, evidence he hoped would help expose the depth of the domestic terrorist’s plot and help identify its covert players. He gazed toward the direction of weapons fire and observed the first retreating terrorists. They ran in the direction of the ranch to what they hoped was their safe house. The insurgents progressed forward for about ten yards before simultaneously turning 180 degrees and firing rounds seemingly into the uninhabited forest. For his part, Harrison took aim at the retreating militants, determined to kill or wound as many of them as he could in hopes of sparing the lives of his colleagues. He aimed and fired at will, dropping one terrorist after another. The volume of insurgents increased considerably as the battle line of government reinforcements came into Harrison’s view. He continued to fire rounds into the retreating patrols when he observed Hawthorne separating himself from his main force and heading in an eastward direction.

  Harrison believed that the handwriting was on the wall for the retreating insurgents. They soon would be captured or killed by Mentor’s government forces. Harrison was determined to thwart Hawthorne’s escape
from the quagmire that the terrorist created via suspicion and hate. He began his pursuit by angling toward the fleeting Hawthorne. Hawthorne, himself, was isolated now with no patrols to support or protect him. Harrison wanted him alive to face the executable charges of conspiracy against the government of the United States and the murder of federal agents. He did not want to “cheat the hangman.” Yet, Harrison knew that Hawthorne would not simply roll over and allow himself to be captured. Moreover, if Hawthorne dies, he will take many federal people with him. Harrison knew that Hawthorne would choose death to imprisonment and trial if permitted the choice.

  Harrison grew closer to Hawthorne as gunfire continued to echo in the background. His weapon was drawn and in position to defend himself. Hawthorne stopped suddenly causing Harrison to dive abruptly to the ground. He lay on his stomach with his right hand extended forward and weapon aimed. Through the twigs and leaves, Harrison stared at his confused opponent. Hawthorne’s plan of retreat likely included his ranch house, an option deleted by Harrison’s sabotage. As abruptly as Hawthorne stopped, he was on the move and withdrawing at a fast pace.

  Harrison was determined not to lose his prey and continued to stalk Hawthorne. Hawthorne was oblivious to Harrison’s presence as his focus was steered to the invasion of his property, his private property, by government forces—the same government he hoped to cripple if not topple with his conspiracy. How indignant Hawthorne must feel given his political platform to have his personal property violated by the very individuals he opposed!

  As Harrison continued to pursue Hawthorne, a barn-like structure came into view. It was clear that Hawthorne was heading for the barn. He likely hid instruments of destruction or equipment for escape in the structure. Harrison knew that their final confrontation must occur now before Hawthorne had an opportunity to implement his final solution.

  Harrison stopped briefly and surveyed the area ahead of them. Hawthorne was heading for the front of the barn, but Harrison noted a small side entrance as well. This was his opportunity thought Harrison. As Hawthorne disappeared into the structure, he darted toward the side entrance. Harrison glanced around making sure that he was as isolated as he felt and observed no retreating terrorists or advancing government agents. He opened the barn door quietly and vanished inside. The structure appeared more expansive indoors than its outer shell intimated. It was dimly lit inside. Harrison heard someone and that someone had to be Hawthorne. He made his way forward through multiple arsenals that lined the inner walls of the barn. Land mines, explosives, rifles—everything a well-fortified army required were stockpiled. Although such weaponry impressed Harrison, he was not prepared for what he saw in a clearing just ahead. There, basking in the dim light, were a number of Abrams tanks and the man preparing to board one of them was no other than Hawthorne himself.

  Harrison had to act quickly. If Hawthorne’s plan of retreat, escape or counteroffensive included this offensive might, a number of agents would die in the field. Unaware of Hawthorne’s specific plan, Harrison did not delay his confrontation with the terrorist leader. He walked ahead with his gun drawn, cradling his gun with both hands so as to increase his aiming accuracy. Harrison wanted to avoid battling Hawthorne from within the confines of a tank. He paced ahead quietly much like a lion approaching his prey.

  Harrison was upon Hawthorne in seconds. The terrorist was totally unaware of his enemy’s approach. Now that Harrison had the upper hand, he commanded in an even voice: “Stop, right there, Hawthorne.” The warned terrorist did not turn around, as the voice was too familiar. “Mr. Rossetti, I presume. This is becoming quite tiring, you know.” With these words, Hawthorne turned around slowly and fired off several rounds in the direction of his unseen, yet known enemy. Harrison’s experiences with Hawthorne had taught him of his cunning. He was already in a crouched position as the bullets whistled by overhead. Harrison squeezed off several rounds himself. One of the bullets found its mark as Hawthorne grabbed his stomach and winced in pain as he bent over. Hawthorne managed to shoot off several more rounds as he attempted to retreat, bent over, to the front of the tank.

  Harrison pursued quickly the wounded terrorist. He knew that there was nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal and Hawthorne had nothing to lose. Harrison approached the back of the tank and looked around the side toward the vehicle’s front. He neither saw nor heard anything. Harrison cautiously walked by the side of the tank, exposing himself to whatever danger was ahead of him. He was breathing heavily and sweat was streaming down his face. Harrison licked his lips and continued stalking Hawthorne. He had reached the tank’s midpoint and continued his pace with his gun aimed forward. Harrison slowed his pursuit as he neared the tank’s front. He still neither heard nor saw anything. He glanced at the tank’s big cannon before returning his gaze toward the front of the tank. Harrison’s destiny would soon be sealed as he reached the forward part of the tank. He stopped to listen for anything that would betray his enemy’s presence and position, but was offered nothing. Harrison’s heart pumped faster and the sweat now rolled down his face. He crouched again and inched his way forward when he found himself flush with the front of the tank. Harrison took a deep breath and exhaled quietly. He then jolted around the front of the tank prepared to fire at will. However, his target was not there.

  Hawthorne who leaped jumped Harrison suddenly from the top of the tank. Harrison dropped his gun as he was knocked to the ground. He looked upwards and saw Hawthorne bearing down on him with an iron bar. Harrison rolled quickly to his left as the iron weapon smacked the ground just inches from his head. Hawthorne withdrew the weapon and aimed for a second blow at his head. Harrison rolled back to his right as the iron bar nearly missed his scalp.

  Hawthorne jumped atop Harrison and attempted to choke his victim by laying the iron bar across his throat. The terrorist pushed with all his strength. Harrison gasped for air and grabbed the iron bar. He pushed back at Hawthorne with all his might placing the weapon in a tug-of-war. The two men struggled with their respective strengths witnessed by the strain on their faces and the bulging of the blood vessels.

  The battle continued for several minutes before Harrison gained the upper hand. Harrison pushed Hawthorne aside and grabbed his own neck as he gasped for oxygen. Hawthorne dropped the weapon and ran off into the darkness as best he could given his injuries. Harrison inhaled large breaths of air as he sat up. He gathered his gun and scanned the barn for Hawthorne. As Harrison turned and walked toward one of the tanks, Hawthorne stepped out. Harrison dove to the ground as gunfire echoed and bullets whizzed by his head.

  As Harrison judged the direction of the gunfire, the unmistakable sound of a tank filled the silence. Hawthorne managed to climb in and start one of the tanks. The Abrams tank, second in line, was steered out of its resting place. Harrison rose and ran quickly after the fleeing tank. Hawthorne was slowed due to the maneuvering required inside the barn. However, Harrison knew that once the tank cleared the munitions, the tank would escalate to full-throttle. If Harrison was going to stop Hawthorne, he had to climb on the tank now. Harrison extended himself in a burst of speed and found himself directly behind the tank. He climbed on the rear of the armored vehicle as Hawthorne increased to ramming speed. Hawthorne, the tank and Harrison smashed through the locked barn doors. Harrison held on tightly as splintered wood fell to either side of the tank’s cannon.

  Hawthorne found himself speeding on open range unaware that an unwelcome passenger was holding on for dear life. Harrison’s strength was tested as the tank dipped and jumped over the rough terrain. He slowly pulled himself forward attempting to reach the passageway that led to Hawthorne. Suddenly, the tank dipped down a gully and Harrison lost his left-hand grip. There he dangled with his right hand the only link between life and death. Harrison struggled to return his left hand to its grip as his body was bounced around by the rough ride. After several tries, Harrison managed to regain his left-hand grip.

  Harrison continued his movement forward and final
ly reached the hatch. He reached for his gun and determined he would take no chances this time. He positioned himself in such a way that he could open the hatch and fire simultaneously. Harrison waited for leveled land and was soon afforded the opportunity. He opened the hatch and leaned inside the tank. Harrison view was that of Hawthorne’s back. He gave no warning, but fired three rounds at the terrorist. Hawthorne’s body fell to the side. Harrison climbed quickly into the bowels of the tank and moved to switch off its engines. He gained control of the metal beast and brought it to a stop.

  Harrison turned toward his mortally wounded prey. Hawthorne moved his head to align his vision with his victorious enemy. Blood was oozing from his mouth and his ears. The dying man managed a sly smile as he addressed the victor in a strained and garbled voice: “You think you’ve won, but your President is dead! Our cause will survive me.” Harrison smiled back and retorted: “You and your cause are dead! Your misguided followers will be exposed, imprisoned or executed. You will be remembered as a small footnote for your crime, nothing more.” Harrison paused momentarily and then continued in an assured tone of voice: “Oh, by the way. President Ashton is quite alive and well in Washington. I’m afraid that it is Marilyn Hawthorne who is dead, not the President…and I have avenged the death of Mary Lou!” A look of shock drained the face of the dying man. He uttered nothing as the life force left his body.

  Harrison bolstered his gun and climbed out of the tank into the light of day. The sun shone brightly despite the smell of stale gunpowder in the air. Limited gunfire could be heard in the distance and attested to the defeat of the insurgents by government forces. Harrison leaned against the tank and tried to reflect on the recent turn of events. However, it was Hannah who entered his thoughts—‘See you soon, my love…’