by Dirk Patton
Lifting her off her feet, I twirled her as our lips met, then put her down and was nearly sent sprawling when my little sister, Mary, slammed into me. Laughing, I lifted her until she locked her arms around my neck and I squeezed her tight, whispering in her ear that I loved her.
Mary was getting better. She wasn’t all the way there, yet. She still wouldn’t speak, but was slowly beginning to act like a kid again. Showing an interest in life and even laughing occasionally when Tanya would do something deliberately ridiculous, just for her.
Still holding Mary tightly, I looked around at Mom. She was beaming and crying at the same time, tears streaming down her face. She stepped close and opened her mouth, but was unable to speak. Reaching out with my free arm, I pulled her in and held her with Mary between us as she cried. Tanya stepped in and wrapped her arms around my waist, laying her head on my shoulder with her face close to Mary’s.
I don’t know how long we stood there, holding each other while my mother cried. It might have gone on much longer if I hadn’t suddenly become aware that it had gone completely quiet around us. Looking to the side, I did a double take when I saw a three star Marine General watching us.
Panic set in and I pulled away from the group embrace, trying to get Mary to let go so I could come to attention and snap up a salute. But she was having none of it. She clung to me like a barnacle, refusing to release her hold on my neck, even when Mom and Tanya tried to pry her free. While they were doing this, I stared at the General in terror.
“As you were, Marine,” the General said, a smile on his face. “I believe your little sister deserves your attention more than I deserve a salute.”
I stared in shock, finally able to sputter out a few words.
“Th – th – thank you. Sir!”
An older man in a conservative suit stepped out of the crowd, looking at me with a smile. I gaped in shock when I recognized General Mathis. He briefly embraced my mother before turning to face me.
“Private Tread,” he said, extending his hand.
I shifted Mary’s weight so I could shake his.
“Sir, it is a great honor to meet you.”
He grinned and waved my words away.
“Your father was the damn toughest, meanest, smartest and orneriest son of a bitch Marine I ever had the pleasure of serving with. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here today. A lot of Marines wouldn’t have come home. And son, I came here to tell you one thing. You did him proud. If it wasn’t for you and this young lady, I’m not sure we’d still have a country.”
“Thank you, sir, but it wasn’t just me. And some good men died making it happen.”
Mathis stared at me with that look he has, then smiled.
“Don’t you ever forget them! Their memory will keep you strong when things look the darkest.” He extended his hand again and I shook it. “Good luck to you, Marine. But I don’t think you’re going to need it. You’re a Tread.”
With that, he briefly clasped my mom’s hand, nodded at Tanya and walked away. I watched until he disappeared into the crowd with the three star beside him.
“Wow!” Tanya breathed.
“No kidding,” I said. “Talk about being caught by surprise!”
Mary finally released her hold and I gently set her on her feet. Mom stepped close and placed her hand on the side of my face as she leaned in and kissed my cheek.
“Are you ready?” she asked with a sad smile.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded, took Tanya’s hand and held Mary’s with my other. I led them to the parking lot and we climbed into Mom’s rental car, me driving. We were heading for Washington. Arlington National Cemetery. I wanted to show Dad my uniform. And tell him Tanya had said yes when I’d proposed.
Epilogue
Ashley hurried across the lobby of Fox News Studios in New York. She’d just finishing taping two segments for the weekend opinion shows and popping in to comment on a live broadcast. Now, she had five days off and a plane to catch. Wearing a fifteen hundred dollar dress and five hundred dollar heels, she was looking forward to trading them for a bikini and a sandy beach in the Caribbean. If she could make her flight.
Looking at her watch while juggling her purse, attaché and phone, she nearly ran into the glass exit doors in her haste. She hoped the car service she’d booked was waiting at the curb or she’d never have time to dash home, change clothes and get to the airport in time. Not in Friday afternoon traffic.
Pushing through, she looked down a line of idling Town Cars, frowning slightly at the incongruity of a massive Dodge four wheel drive pickup. It was shiny red, lifted high and riding on huge chrome wheels with aggressive off road tires. A pink elephant wouldn’t have looked any more out of place in the city. Dismissing it, she headed for the line of cars, searching for a placard placed on the dash with her name on it.
“Didn’t you learn your lesson about walkin’ around on the streets in this town?” a deep voice rumbled behind her.
She spun in surprise, a smile lighting her face when she saw BK standing on the sidewalk.
“What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet in Aruba!”
Rushing forward, she threw her arms around him.
“Got a better way to go than commercial,” he said, shrugging before he wrapped her up and kissed her deeply. “Mr. White kindly loaned us his jet.”
“So we’ve got time to stop at my apartment? I need my bikini.”
“No, you don’t,” BK said, letting his eyes roam across her body until she blushed.
Smiling, he took her hand and led her toward the giant pickup.
“This is yours?” she asked, surprised.
“Easier to drive in the city,” he said, chuckling. “People get out of my way.”
She laughed as he helped her climb up into the passenger seat.
-----
Jack Timmons sat in the comfort of his private jet. It was on the tarmac at a small, private field on the outskirts of Prague in the Czech Republic. He’d ostensibly been in town to negotiate a business deal, but also had a private meeting scheduled and was waiting for the other party to arrive.
Flipping through a glossy news magazine that had published a one year anniversary story of what they termed the attempted theft of America, he paused on a full page photo of President Williams being led out of the White House in handcuffs. An unprecedented sight, to be sure.
After the video file had been uploaded to all the major news organizations in the country, there had been a collective inhalation of shock in every corner of the land. It had been let out with screams of rage. Calculated leaks from within the cabal that William Carter had put together led to a selective purge of the political class within America.
The president, vice-president and the entire cabinet were arrested by a furious FBI director. There were no multi-year investigations. The mood of the people would not have allowed it. As the government was dismantled, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, working in concert with the US Supreme Court, assumed temporary control of Washington D.C.
With the military in command, the FBI continued their investigation, making hundreds of arrests within their own ranks as well as the Department of Justice. Congress was subjected to a brutally thorough investigation, which resulted in additional arrests. Expanding out, several Governors were implicated and charged for their involvement in the president’s plans. When the dust settled, a shocked nation woke to an economy in shambles.
But as Americans have always done, they got to work. And the first order of business were some key changes to the US Constitution. Term limits for all elected officials and the prohibition against lobbying any politician were the two key amendments, but hardly all that was enacted by an angry Constitutional Convention. The backlash was swift and severe.
In the end, the states all but neutered the Federal Government. Very little beyond national defense remained in the purview of the politicians in Washington. Elections were held. A new president was sworn into office and beg
an selecting his cabinet. Things in America slowly returned to a sense of normalcy. But not the Washington DC gridlock to which people had become accustomed in the modern era. There were also new provisions in the Constitution to address that.
Flipping the page, Timmons paused on a photo of Joseph and Tanya being walked out of the TV station in Boise, hands cuffed behind their backs. He didn’t bother to read the section dealing with the heroes of the day. He well knew that once their evidence made it into the public eye, an avalanche of truth followed. They were not only never charged with a single crime, they were awarded with medals of distinction by the Director of the FBI.
The sound of engines pulled his attention away and he glanced through a window as a large, Russian-made jet touched down. Tossing the magazine aside, he stood stiffly, making his way forward and down to the tarmac. He watched as the plane quickly slowed, then turned and taxied to where he was waiting.
It came to a stop, the engines spooling down to silence as the door opened. He strolled across the stretch of blacktop, climbing the built-in stairs and turning into the main cabin. Waiting for him was Alexie Barinov, the brutal right hand to Vladimir Putin. He watched Timmons approach with a detached stare.
“You’re late,” Timmons said, dropping into a seat facing the Russian.
“I am neither late nor early,” Barinov rumbled. “I am simply here. What is it you wished to discuss?”
Timmons stared at the man, slightly cowed by his reputation. He knew that anyone who crossed Barinov wound up dead. Sometimes in a very slow and painful manner.
“Our plans for America. We can still make this work.”
Barinov stared at him for nearly half a minute, his face unreadable.
“And how is that possible at this point?”
“The option we discussed last year,” Timmons said.
“We discussed several. You need to be more precise.”
Timmons took a breath and slowly let it out. Nearly wavered, then forged ahead before he completely lost his nerve.
“The nerve agent. Dispersed in selected areas. With careful planning, we can eliminate the bulk of any opposition to move the US into the global community. Conveniently, these same areas are populated with the most heavily armed people.”
“It will kill millions,” Barinov said, his tone completely neutral.
“It will kill the ones that are holding us back!” Timmons cried, gaining confidence. “Purging a disease from the body can be painful, but the results are always positive.”
“Spoken like a true Russian,” Barinov said, the tiniest of smiles flickering across his face for an instant. “But how much of your organization remains intact?”
“Enough,” Timmons said, encouraged.
Barinov stared at him until Timmons grew uncomfortable enough to look away.
“I shall consider it,” he finally said. “There are things that must happen in my country, first, to clear the way. Once those are accomplished, we shall speak again.”
It took Timmons several seconds to realize he had been dismissed. Getting to his feet he looked down at the Russian, but Barinov was already focused on a tablet computer. Without another word, the American turned and left the plane.
A door at the rear of the cabin opened and Barinov’s chief aide walked in, bending to a window to watch Timmons board his plane.
“You heard?” Barinov asked.
“Da.”
“What is the latest update from the Chinese?”
“The virus is in the testing phase. Once that completes, they will begin working to pair it with the nerve agent and develop a vaccine. They estimate three to four years before they can begin production on a large scale.”
Barinov slowly nodded in thought, then snorted a rare laugh.
“The American is a fool,” he said. “He invites us in. Helps us, even. All to murder the portion of his population that disagrees with him. If he only knew, Yevgeni. If he only knew what I am going to do to his country.”