Shadow and Shine (Book 2): Dark Divide

by Danial Hooper

  “What do you know about them?” Jordan interrupted.

  Marshall spoke up before Harry could answer, “At ease, soldier. Keep your mouth shut.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Marshall said, Harry hated the way his voice sounded when he said that. “Harry, what do you know about them?”

  “A lot more than you idiots. That I can tell you.”

  “I don’t take well to name calling, old man.”

  “You’re my age!” Harry laughed. He really wished he could see Marshall’s face. It felt like they were actually bantering back and forth like friends. It was working.

  “Answer my question.” Marshall didn’t sound like he was enjoying it.

  Harry sighed. “I know they only come out at night. I know they’re super strong and super fast. I know we’re the only ones who can stop them. I know you’re getting in the way. I also know I have to take a leak. How’s that?”

  “That’s good. Jordan, please reach back there and thank Harry for his contribution. We’re about two hours from our next rest stop, I hope he can hold it.”

  ********

  Jake Oberhausen

  Early evening

  Brigham City, UT

  The car ride was quiet. They didn’t have the energy to talk after Molly came out from John’s house and reported it empty. She said there was some blood on the walls and plenty of furniture was broken, but no John or Karl. Their guns were on the floor though, even Jake’s rifle was still there. “Single shot, 30-06, just like you said,” Molly agreed.

  She was naive, oblivious to Jake’s disappointment and frustration. Another girl her age might be more suspicious of a stranger at her missing uncle’s house with blood on the walls. Not her, though. This girl believed Jake at his word.

  They drove north towards the police station. Molly said the military had commandeered the police force, but hopefully they would still take a report. Jake was nervous about having to answer questions. Were military officials used to basic interrogations? Would they treat him like a terrorist at Guantanamo Bay? It seemed silly, but Jake had no experience with these things. They weren’t held to the same rules as those wearing the blue uniforms.

  Jake was going to find out. He needed to report what happened and get someone out there to search for clues or evidence. If he needed to answer some questions first, it would be okay.

  “What is that place?” Jake asked, pointing ahead to a large brick office building with a long line of people outside.

  Molly sighed. “Police station. Apparently, you’re not the only one with a story to tell.”

  “Is there another one?”

  “Two police stations in Brigham City? Ha! We’re lucky we have one up here. You’d have to go up to Logan for the next one. I think the police are still in control up there… where do you wanna go?”

  “How far is that?”

  “About a half hour or so. Traffic seems to be pretty good, might make it in twenty,” she said, slowing down. She didn’t pull into the filled parking lot, but pulled off the side of the street. “It could be the same up there, too.”

  “Just drop me off here. I’ll take my chances.”

  ********

  Marcel Reyes

  1834 (Mountain time)

  Northern Utah

  Seth knew exactly where a car would be, despite it being miles off the road on the other side of the city, on the other side of a mountain. Reyes didn’t question him at the time, but he should have asked for more information. Seth was scared, but motivated to get out. Reyes was just attacked by the most dangerous man in the military and was willing to listen to anyone if it meant survival. Reyes had a hunch there would be a survivor at one of the locations where Gathe ignored the thermal scans, and he was right. All he could think about was being correct and safe. It wasn’t until they approached the Utah and Wyoming border when he started to ask some questions. How did he know where to find the tunnel? How did Seth know to take it? How did he know there would be a car? Who was he, really?

  The kid was different than the normal early twenties man-child. People like him lie, but it’s usually because of the desire for approval. Not Seth, everything he said was just enough of the truth for other people to believe him, but Reyes could tell he was lying. Seth lied because he wanted to lie.

  For instance, his original story of how he survived featured being chased by a wild dog. However, when he spoke to Conrad, he said he just left the other group because he wanted to find a safe place to hide. It wasn’t a big deal, but there’s usually a larger lie in hiding when two truths don’t match up.

  One other thing bothered Reyes; he didn’t like the way Seth said his name. It could be nothing, but his voice changed every time he said it. Most people don’t say their own name more than the first time you meet them. But Seth repeated his name over and over when explaining his experience in Utah.

  Reyes didn’t want to be insensitive about Seth’s overall demeanor. After all, the kid was a college student who miraculously survived a massive attack followed by another massive attack. That would make anyone act a little weird. But there were too many loose ends.

  Maybe Reyes was losing his faith in humanity. Marshall’s recruitment was a hoax to bring him in to be killed. Even his specially given knife wasn’t loaded with the poison. The least Marshall could have done is give him a decent parting gift, instead he ordered the impotent Nino to shoot him. Which begged more questions. What did they find at Site-Alpha? What is the dusty substance? Where did everyone go?

  How did Seth know everyone was dead?

  *******

  Mickey Kyle

  Approaching sundown

  Ogden, UT

  Mickey was riding in a van with angry vipers. His best chance of survival was staying out of their line of sight. Tink and Shelly were their main targets. Which was crap, because Shelly wasn’t doing anything wrong, other than standing close to Tink. If Tink would have kept cool, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but instead he had an attitude and acted like he was tough. Snakes don’t care if you’re tough, they bite whoever stands in their way. Tink sort of deserved it, but Shelly was too sweet for this treatment.

  Mickey tried to relax. Marshall was driving east, but it was impossible to tell where. Hopefully no one asked, he wasn’t open to taking questions. There needed to be an opportunity to make nice, but Mona was the only one who could bridge the gap.

  Unfortunately, she was as silent as Shelly was innocent.

  *******

  Conrad Greene

  2034 (Eastern time)

  Washington DC

  “What took you so long?” President Watt asked. Conrad found him in the west wing office with Arthur Hale preparing for his statement. Hale stared back pretending to be brave.

  “Apparently, security has more pressing matters. They’re stranded outside, do you realize that?” Conrad sat down at the table. Each television displayed a different media outlet and their ongoing coverage of the UN versus the USA.

  President Watt looked at Hale. “Arthur, take care of this immediately,” he said, pointing at the door. Hale dropped his head and walked out.

  The men watched pundits from outside the United States discuss the repercussions of what was being called The American Tragedy. Most parts of Asia and the United Kingdom have already blocked entry for US citizens. There would be no assimilation, there would be no protection. The world was turning its back on the United States.

  “The relationship between America and the UN will always be strained. I built my first campaign around standing up to them while they threatened Sudan. I was the war hero fighting for the little guy. Do you remember?” Conrad thought back to the Sudan operation. The United Nations gave the Sudanese government twenty four hours to neutralize a terrorist organization hiding in their western mountains. The former President of the United States, Mark Croix, was a southern businessman who capitalized on Sudan’s weak position by offering a trade of services. President Croix s
ent a team of American Soldiers into the mountains while the Prince of Sudan would exchange premium rates for oil. Conrad, Uriah, and Marshall were the three lead soldiers during the operation. Conrad’s team was able to infiltrate the main base and confiscate their leader while Uriah’s flawless planning and Marshall’s ruthless execution led to a successful operation in the twenty-third hour. The seven warheads prepared by the UN were shut down. Sudan and the neighboring region celebrated the United States, eventually President Watt leveraged the successful mission into a strong dynamic with all of Africa.

  “How could I forget? I bet Ugo still regrets giving you the credit.”

  “He’s reasonable enough to recognize a miracle. I got the credit, you and Marshall completed most of the work.”

  “We had a good leader.”

  “That’s the last time my boots hit pay dirt, do you know that?”

  “Mine too.” Conrad missed the good old days, back when he didn’t have to pay attention to American bureaucracy.

  “What was I thinking? Leaving that life.”

  “You wanted to make a difference. You were born to lead this country.”

  “I became President based off a redacted history and public speaking.”

  “You became President because you were the best man for the job.”

  “Ah, well, either way.” President Watt turned off the screen and faced Conrad. “The UN has formally issued the twenty four hour warning on the United States.”

  This was the opportunity for him to bring about the idea of using the United Nations to combat against the Subas in Salt Lake. Using one stone to knock out two birds. The bigger picture ramifications were perfect, and no living person in America should be at risk. “I have an idea about that, sir. In light of Black Tide—”

  “What a mess. If they knew, if anyone knew, about Black Tide, or Red Wave for that matter, the UN would drop a lot more than twelve bukes on us.”

  “What are you talking about, sir?” The UN’s decree would require no more than two warheads dropped on Salt Lake City. Twelve would eliminate the Western United States.

  “That’s the number, yes. What don’t you understand?”

  “Salt Lake City is smaller than Sudan. What explosives are they using?”

  “They’re the same as Sudan. They have reports of activity in Nevada, California, and Idaho. The UN has issued their decree on all of the United States. Ban has given us twenty four hours for Utah, and an additional twenty four for the west coast.”

  “They can’t do this.”

  “It’s our only hope.”

  “No. We can’t allow them to do this. Millions of American citizens will die. We have to stop them.”

  “There is no stopping them. Not enough time, not enough proof. They’ve made their decision. Twelve bukes.”

  “Sir—”

  “The threat dismantled the best soldiers in the world overnight.”

  “So we give up?”

  “No, we improvise. Omega has already begun.”

  “Reyes mentioned Omega. Am I supposed to know what that is?”

  “He’s alive?”

  “Why him? He wasn’t a threat.”

  President Watt took a deep exhale. He stepped away from Conrad, shaking his head. “It wasn’t an easy decision, Greeny.”

  “Risk? I have trusted Marcel Reyes with confidential operations for over ten years now. Never once has his loyalty wavered. Never once has he spoken out of turn. Never once—”

  “Has he been involved in a domestic airstrike.”

  “That doesn’t change—”

  “It changes everything, Greeny! Everything is different because of this. Don’t you see that? This is the watershed moment. Am I willing to risk everything based off of your trust? Omega resets the nation. Our country is about to begin the darkest days of our history and you want sentimentality. The United Nations is going to eliminate the west coast tomorrow. Everything I have worked for has failed. As your President, your General, I order you to stand down.”

  “Stand down? From what? Sir, if you’re asking me to support the murder of an American soldier, I will not stand down. Reyes is not a threat. I’m asking you as a friend, sir, don’t do this.”

  “And what do you suggest as an alternative?”

  “If you believe Omega is required, then so be it. But Reyes is brought in, not taken out. He had every reason to go public, but he’s proven himself loyal.”

  “Then I need your support on Omega.”

  “Who else is involved?”

  “Myself, Marshall, and Hale.”

  Conrad shook his head.

  “Hale has secrets from when my father was in office. We can trust him.”

  “Can we trust Chris Martin?”

  “No. He will be removed from his position tonight. I fear he has been selling our secrets to Ugo Ban and the United Nations. Somehow, they know entirely too much about the Subas. Martin has made his decision. Now, he will pay the consequences.”

  “Just like Beck?”

  “Joseph Beck was a liability. We should have never involved either man. I couldn’t rely on Hemnat Chatra either. Reyes was yours. Not mine.”

  “What gives you the right to make these decisions, sir?”

  “I’m the President of the United States, Greeny.”

  This is the first time Conrad heard President Watt use his rank to justify himself.

  “Where is Sarah Francis, sir?”

  “She’s being questioned.”

  “Why?”

  “Greeny, I’m going to need your support in this. I need to know we’re on the same team. You’re the only one I can trust. Not Francis, Martin. Beck or Chatra. I named you Constitional General because I need you in office. You don’t want to be President. Fine. But I need you there. Otherwise, Johnson puts our country in risk. I’ve known for some time that I couldn’t trust my secret cabinet. I’ve known someone was selling our secrets. But I know you, and Greeny… I need you. Please, trust me.”

  Conrad didn’t like the way it sounded. Watt was losing his grip. The choice was to either support him or disregard over thirty years of history. Conrad saw only one option. “I’m always on your side, sir. You know that.”

  “I do.”

  “So, you’re saying Omega is not over… what happens next?”

  “I have to be assassinated.”

  *******

  Roy Hadley

  5:48 p.m. (Western time)

  Las Vegas, NV

  It was the break he needed. Silvio Peretti’s pride was finally getting the best of him and now he was texting Roy a specific time and a specific address to meet up. Roy was being blessed with the opportunity to take care of business without having to track down the dirty Italian using his own efforts. Peretti wanted him.

  He was going to get him.

  April 17, 2016

  Night Five

  The road to safety is dark and dangerous.

  - Reba

  *******

  Seth Porter/Greg Hart

  8:30 p.m. (Mountain time)

  Wyoming

  Finding the sedan exactly where Adam directed was convenient, possibly too convenient. Seth Porter was supposed to have survived the attack due only to good luck. He wasn’t supposed to know the location of a sedan on the other side of the city. Coincidence cannot fall perfectly in line with need. It raises too many questions. If this were an experiment, one would reasonably consider the potential of study manipulation. Greg didn’t want to draw the wrong attention from Reyes. He was beginning to like him and appreciated his protection. Greg could see he was focused on the task, and Greg’s safety was the priority. As usual, Greg’s need for emotional satisfaction persuaded him to build walls instead of doors. His story, or rather his lie, needed less detail and more action. The Old Greg died on the first night along with the Old World. He missed his meeting with Dr. Lucas and Dr. Simon, Seth Porter was his friend who tagged along for support. Seth survived. Greg was no more.

 
Which is why he decided to ask Reyes to find the nearest gas station. Time spent away from Reyes, even in the safe confines of a restroom stall, would be beneficial for his mind. There would be an empty wall to stare at, and relatively quiet too.

  They pulled into the gas station on Interstate-80 just across the Wyoming border. Reyes began working the pump and Greg made his way into the large store.

  He saw the restroom sign and gave an awkward wave to the attractive female employee with a small tattoo beside her ear. Her smile reminded Greg of Edie in the way it illuminated the rest of the room. Greg stared back with what he believed was a smile, until he ran into an extended aisle. Bags of chocolate covered raisins fell onto the ground.

  “Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll take care of it,” she said. Greg wasn’t sure of the appropriate reaction, but he followed her direction and walked towards the bathroom. He didn’t need any more contact with her than he already experienced. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he already had.

  The bathroom was surprisingly clean. Greg walked into the closest empty stall and took a seat. This type of setting was far more comfortable than his previous room in Utah. Simply put, several days of pooping in a closet would make all future restroom experiences positive by comparison.

  He stared at the door and attempted to clear his mind of all mitigating thoughts. It was difficult to do so with the myriad of drawings and names surrounding him. He never understood why people felt the need to write their name, or the name of a rival, onto a bathroom wall as if it offered a benefit. Possibly, the pioneer of bathroom artistry was able to draw attention to Betty Sue and her inexpensive prostitution, but most people paid no attention to the chaotic walls any longer.

  It wasn’t working.

  Greg couldn’t clear his mind, there was too much going on. He didn’t need to use the bathroom either. So he sat in the confined area contemplating vandalism.