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Authors: Vincent Heck

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BOOK: Last War
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     Jason wore a set of glasses which held the various commands and current vehicle information.  It was 76 degrees outside, and 68 degrees inside. The car was at half-tank and an oil change was due in two months.

     A message popped up into his left lens.

    ::Message from Christine Upton to Maxwell Bradley--Intercept?::

     Jason intercepted it.

     "Hey babe, I miss you
.”

     :
:Forward Message?::

     Jason didn't understand why his life continually conflicted with his plan.

     ::Message Erased.::

 
   He touched the screen on the center console in his vehicle to wake it up. He wanted to see the picture of his beautiful wife on the desktop of the screen. Her long, dark, perfectly nourished, hair with her flawlessly manicured hand resting on her cinnamon brown cheek; her dark-brown eyes were the eyes of the woman he first married. The look in her face told the story of a woman he once fell in love with.

     This
particular woman he was going home to, however, he had no clue who she was.

     :
:New message from Christine Upton to Jason Upton—Forward?::

     Jason accepted. Almost instantly Jason's phone beeped.

     "Hey, are you coming home soon? Dinner is ready."

     "Yes dear, I'll be home soon; ten minutes."

     As he arrived to his $600,000 home just outside of D.C. in Arlington County Maryland, he put his satellite device in the car on auto. As much as he hated doing that, he knew that he had to.

     He walked in through his huge front door which lead to the
 vestibule of the house. Upon entering the building, fully, he saw Christine sitting in the living room watching TV. His plate was sitting in the dark on the dining room table. Christine looked his way with her feet and legs scooted up on the couch underneath her.

     "Hey."

     "Hey." Jason responded. Her cell phone was perched on the arm of the chair two millimetres from her hand. As it buzzed, Christine immediately snatched it up.

     She
paused.

     "What?" She said
staring at Jason with a slight giggle.

     Jason turned to head to the dining room to
grab and put his plate into the microwave. He pulled a handheld device from his pocket and took the application off of auto-send.

     :
:New message from Clareese Mitchell to Christine Upton--Forward?::

     Jason accepted, put the device back on auto,
 and into his pocket.

     "How was your day at work?" Jason asked Christine from the kitchen.

     "It was ok.” She shouted back. “And you?"

     "It was alright, I guess."

     Jason's job was a sore subject in the Upton household. Working for the government was hard. You couldn't tell anyone what's going on and there were a lot of long days -- sometimes not even coming home at night. In the beginning, the job was something that made Christine nervous. But, apparently, only two years later, to Jason’s vexation, she had found a way to cope.

     Jason pulled his plate from the microwave and entered the living room
. He sat on the couch next to his wife. He hadn't sat next to her in almost a month, like this. Work was so hectic and busy that by time he arrived home, if he did, it was extremely late and his wife was in bed already.

    
Jason always enjoyed his plate of food Christine always so graciously prepared. He thought about change in his life – maybe starting into a new career.

     "Babe,
 what do you think about me finding a new job?"

     Christine looked at him.
 She silently shrugged her shoulders. “Since you were a little boy you started on this path. That makes no sense.” She said.

     "I mean, I'm never here for you."

     "Well, the people need you to do your job."

    
Jason's head dropped. His eyes focused on the white fluffy carpet in their living room. It looked white. But, he knew despite its pure appearance resided dust, food, and other nasty things deep below the surface.

     Although the intensity of him needing to act on something unknown continued to grow, he still struggled with personal feelings.

     "I don't know, Chrissie, I just can't explain it, nor am I allowed to, but I don’t think this job is suiting me, anymore."

     "Where did
all of this come from?”

     Jason shrugged.

     “Well, what would you do?" She asked.

     “I don’t know. Something." He said.

     A few moments of silence passed as the news reported that the HSAS had been heightened from “elevated” to “high”. The reporter stated out of her mostly stoic demeanor that the only detail her station had was the fact that there were suspicions of multiple terroristic plots to take place in the beginning of next year.

     “What’s this all about, Jason?” 

     Jason pulled one of her legs out from underneath her and began rubbing her feet.

     "I don't know, something just don't seem right in this world we live in. People are plotting everyday. It’s crazy. Some people say it, then don’t do it, and all we can do is watch. Some people plan it, then they say a date to throw us off – it’s a lot. It’s very staggered and tricky. I just have a feeling something huge is about to happen and I don't know what
 it all encompasses, yet. But I’m not sure I’m completely ready for it."

     Christine looked
 at her husband who was clearly in distress. Then she focused her eyes back to the TV.

     They sat quietly for another moment as the news broke from commercial more abrupt than usual.  The
news anchor reported that the second consecutive Egyptian president was stepping down after a few years of the Egyptian people protesting.

     “Why are you smiling?” Christine asked. “Is that good for us?”

     Christine’s question broke Jason’s train of thought. “Oh. Yeah. I mean...yeah, it is. Those people were being mistreated and they fought back. It’s just how democracy is supposed to work. The people have the power. We work for them. That’s all.”

      “What was going on over there?” She asked.

     “You haven’t been watching? The people; their conditions were worsening. No jobs, really, available -- not enough money even where there were. Their economy was shaky. I mean, you just wouldn’t want to live over there. Their privacy was under siege. Everything. Their government didn’t respect anything about them; they needed a change.”

     “Well, sorrry.”

     “No, it’s just...I’m sorry. I mean, it’s just -- it has kinda been a big thing going on for a few years, now.”

     “I’m just not
into politics, like that. I guess I figure there are people to handle it for me.”

     Another silence fell, while Jason massaged up Christine’s calves.

     "Hey, Jason..."

     Those words pierced his heart. At one point in the marriage, she’d use the words "sweetie," "babe" or "honey" to address him. Even “Jay”. Jason didn't remember her, really, ever using his full fi
rst name. Jason was a name that, even, some people in the likes of Saddam Hussein would refer to him. No one close to him ever used his full name.  

     She continued.

     "Look at the TV. Isn't that someone you worked with?"

     Christine turned up the television as the reporter filled in the details.

 

"Sources confirmed that the body of the young woman is, in fact, Tameka Washington. She was found in her
 own home shot multiple times sometime in the afternoon today. Police reports indicate that a couple days prior to this, two men tried to sexually assault her. While there are no signs of rape, we are still waiting for more answers. The young lady held a job in the Homeland Security department, but authorities say this is completely unrelated to her death. The DHS declined to make a statement when we contacted them. For now this is all we've got. My name is Melinda Kershaw in the nation’s capitol, for the Channel 9 news."

 

     Christine bit her bottom lip before saying, "She works for you doesn't she?"

    
Jason, very worried, gazed into the television. “At least,
she did
.” Jason hopped up from the couch as he collected his empty plate. “Hey look, babe, I’ve gotta get some rest, I’m guessing tomorrow is going to be a hectic day.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I love you. Night.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

IV

 

September 4, 2001

10:04 p.m. EDT

WTC Building 7

     The building stood quiet while
Jason sat back into his office chair. National security drills were the hardest to plan. He only had a week left to make sure everything was lined up correctly. Clicking through files on his PC, everything seemed in place. He had planned to run through the simulator the next night to confirm.

     Egypt
’s state of affairs, however, was still on his mind. 

     As Jason reached into a medium-sized duffle bag under his work desk, he felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket.

     “Hello?”

     “Daddy.”

     “Hey, sweet pea. I’m sorry, I’m still working.” He said while placing a laptop on his desk next to his work PC.

     “Will you be home soon?”

     “I don’t think in time enough, babes. I’m sorry.”

     There was silence on the other end of the phone before Jason continued. “How about I continue telling you the story here over the phone? I should be packing up to come
home pretty soon. K?”

     “Alright, I guess.”

     “I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s—it’s test week for me. Just like I always tell you that you can’t, I can’t fail my tests either. Capeesh?”

     Vanessa laughed. “Capeesh, daddy.” 

     “One second.”

     Jason logged onto his laptop to see 300 new messages. He logged into a secure chatroom filled with a legion of unknown chatters who had come together for a cause to support the Egyptian people. They were activists. Of course, his account was unknown, as well.

     He wondered if that made him completely a member of the group known as The Unknown Hacktivists.

     There were explicit live videos being posted of Egyptian police officers firing assault rifles into the crowds of thousands. All of the videos were first person angles, which left a real authentic rush of emotion, while watching police spraying bullets in his direction. The chatroom was also discussing the Egyptian government attempting to cut off all internet access to the country.

     Of course, having access to what he did as the current NSA director of the NYC campus; Jason could have major pull in preventing that from happening. He typed,

     He wasn’t going to have time for his daughter.

     “Daddy?”

     “Alright.” Jason continued, as he synchronized his laptop with his work PC. “Where did I leave off?”

     “John Rolfe and Pocahontas.”

     “Right.”

 

 

 


 

Jason to Vanessa:

The 1750s

 

     So, despite the fact that the British who had settled in the new land weren’t surviving there, John felt he had a golden opportunity to thrive—he had product.

     The conditions of the small struggling community in Jamestown, Virginia was lacking the product it needed to make its economy thrive, but John had tobacco.

     During that struggle, people lacked food, and began to eat anything in their presence—including their horses and their own family. So, John proceeded with his original plan all along.

BOOK: Last War
10.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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