The End (4 page)

“Ms. Gomez, you have the last word, please respond to what the Speaker just said.”

“Mr. O'Reilly, this administration is doing an incredible job at defending our nation. After almost ten years of war, it is time to take care of the homeland by addressing domestic issues. We have everything under control as far as defense. We need to get issues like education and healthcare in the forefront.”

“Well, I have to leave it there. Ms. Gomez, Speaker Conner, I appreciate your time. Next on the lineup we have retired General McCasey here to talk about the recent terrorist attacks in Paris and London.”

Samantha grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. “Sorry, it's the only time I can listen to what's happening. It's scary out there right now with so many attacks happening overseas, I just feel it's only a matter of time before it comes here.”

“Yeah, maybe so; I wouldn't focus too much on that; I think we're pretty safe here. As far as the talking heads on TV, I just don't listen at all. Sounds like a bunch of hot air to me,” Sebastian said.

“Can I grab you a beer?”

“I'll get it, I know where they are. Can I grab you one too?” Sebastian asked, opening the fridge.

“Why, yes, thank you.”

“Get one for me too!” Sebastian recognized his brother's voice. Gordon was grinning ear to ear as he entered the kitchen; he was always thrilled to see his little brother.

“Gordo!” Sebastian boomed, setting the beers down on the counter. He approached his brother and gave him a big hug. “Great to see you, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, little brother. We just wish we saw you more.”

Gordon turned to Samantha and asked, “Where are the kids?”

“Outside, playing with the toys Sebastian brought for them.”

“Tell me what's up with you?” Gordon asked Sebastian after taking a swig from his beer.

“I guess I need to ask you that,” Sebastian replied, pointing at Gordon's fingers. “You know, if it was the ‘Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy that made you leave the Corps, you're good to go now.”

“What?” Gordon asked, puzzled for a second by Sebastian's comments before realizing he still had on the pink fingernail polish from earlier.

“Kids,” he explained, shrugging off the comment.

Gordon walked over to the fridge to get the meat for the grill. “Well, Mr. Smartass, how about helping me with this outside?”

“Roger that.”

 • • • 

“Dinner was great. I'm stuffed,” Sebastian said, leaning back against his chair.

“I'm glad you liked it. Why don't I clean up and you boys go enjoy a beer and chat,” Samantha said while stacking plates.

“Are you sure?” Gordon asked, looking up at her from his chair. Gordon respected Samantha and looked at his relationship and the responsibility of parenting as a true partnership. He never wanted to take her for granted.

“Yes, I'm sure. You boys go be boys. Drink some beers, talk shit, and solve the world's problems. I can take the kids upstairs to watch a movie.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, sweetie.”

Sebastian watched their interaction and smiled. When it was time for him to settle down, he wanted exactly what his brother had. Of course that wouldn't happen for a while since he had another year on his enlistment and life was just too much fun.

Samantha grabbed the remaining dishes and walked back into the kitchen. The brothers could hear her talking to the kids. After a minute of squealing and cheers from the kids, the house fell silent.

“Let's grab those beers and go to the back patio.” Gordon stood up and Sebastian followed him to the fridge before heading outside.

“Here,” Gordon handed his brother a cold beer and sat down.

“Thanks. So what you been doing lately?”

“You know, the usual. Oh, I have been getting to the range more lately.”

“Good, any new acquisitions?”

“Yeah, when I was in Idaho I stopped by a gun show and finally bought an M-4 and another Sig.”

“You were always more of the collector than me, you and Dad were alike that way,” Sebastian commented, then took a drink.

“So, tell me more about Scout Snipers,” Gordon asked, kicking his feet up on the table.

“I really want it; I get to try out in a couple of weeks. I've been training, so we'll see.”

“As long as you're clear,” Gordon said, looking down at his beer in his hand.

“What does that mean?” Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just that.”

“Listen, don't project your anger with the Corps onto me,” Sebastian said with a bit of attitude.

“I'm not projecting anything. I just want to make sure you're making the right decision. I don't think you made the right decision by signing up for six years initially. All you had to do was sign up for four, and if you liked it, go for another enlistment,” Gordon admonished.

Sebastian stared his brother down, frustrated. He loved him so much, but hated when Gordon acted like a parent. He figured that after two combat tours, one in Iraq and another in Afghanistan, his brother would finally treat him with respect. He knew it stemmed from two things, one being that Gordon and Sebastian's parents had died a few years back. Gordon took it upon himself to fill that role for his much younger brother. The other issue was Gordon's anger toward the Marine Corps. He felt betrayed after the incident in Fallujah ten years before.

“Gordo, I know what I'm doing. Scout Snipers are a tight unit, professional and motivated. I wish you would stop second-guessing me. I know you asked me not to join the Marines, but I did. Then you were against me signing for six, but I did that too. I needed to guarantee the job I wanted. You were against me being a TOW gunner and now you're second-guessing this. I'm a man; I know what I'm doing.” Sebastian sat straight up in his chair and looked his brother directly in the eye.

“Okay. Okay,” Gordon replied, waving his left hand in the air and rolling his eyes.

“I'm gonna make a head call.” Sebastian put down his beer and walked inside.

Gordon rested his head on the back of the chair and looked up at the stars. He thought back to that day in the mosque in Fallujah. In the years immediately after, he'd mentally replayed the incident over and over again. Every time, though, he'd concluded that he'd do it all the same. It frustrated him to no end, the ridicule and hatred he received. The investigation from the NCIS team proved he made the correct decision, but those stories are not interesting and always land on page D9 of the newspaper. Stories of Marines shooting “unarmed and wounded” prisoners, on the other hand, make for headline news and political fodder. He hated the politics most. The entire situation changed how he looked at his country and countrymen. When his time for reenlistment came around, he opted to get out. He could no longer risk his life to defend a country wherein half the citizens either hated him or, only slightly better, thought nothing of him.

Gordon had joined the Marine Corps right after the attacks on September 11. He dropped out of George Mason University in his third year because he felt it was his generation's calling to serve, walking away from a full academic scholarship. At the time it felt like the right thing to do, but now things had changed.

He often questioned why he had sacrificed so much. For what? So people could hate him? So people could take their freedom for granted? For all the lazy asses and all the dumb shits who want to sit around and do nothing? Fuck them, he thought. Never again would he sacrifice himself for anyone but his family and friends. Now his brother was putting himself in harm's way so those same worthless people could sit back and enjoy their freedoms and abuse their rights.

Sebastian knew how he felt, but he was never the idealist Gordon once was. Sebastian loved his country, sure, but he was in it more for the adventure. He loved the action. Sebastian felt lucky that people would pay him to blow things up. He never thought much of politics, thinking it was a waste of time. Gordon would love to share his brother's outlook, but how can our country survive if all we do is look out for ourselves? Ideologically, he was conflicted. Practically, though, until his anger went away, he would not put anyone else before himself or his family.

Sebastian's return interrupted Gordon's train of thought.

“Here, bro,” Sebastian said, handing over another beer.

Sitting up and grabbing the beer, Gordon said, “Thank you. Look, I'm sorry if I seemed like I doubted you. I do respect you and I don't look at you any other way than as a man. You know how I feel about the Corps and everything else. I really don't want to get into it again. I just don't want anything to happen to you.”

“I know, I know. Listen, I'll be in good hands. By the way, I forgot to tell you, we just got a new commanding officer,” Sebastian said after drinking some beer. He had a big smile on his face.

“Who is that?” Gordon was interested.

“Barone!”

“Major Barone?” Gordon's eyes widened.

“Yeah, but he's a light bird now.”

Again, Gordon's memory flashed back to the time after the Fallujah incident. Major Barone was one of his staunchest defenders. He stood by him while the other brass were ready to offer him up to appease the politicians and media. The press had a field day with the story and was bloodthirsty in its reporting on the shooting. For all intents and purposes, he had been publicly convicted before any investigation had even been completed.

Comforted by the memory of a loyal friend, Gordon said, “That is great news. He's a great man. You are definitely in good hands with him.”

“I knew you'd be happy to hear his name again. I haven't had the chance to actually meet him, but I hear he loves his snipers. I'm pumped. Now, all I have to do is make the cut.”

“It really does make me happy that he's in charge and will be taking you guys back into the mix on your next tour,” Gordon said. He felt relieved that his brother would be in such trustworthy company.

Gordon was very happy to have that bit of news. Regardless of his brother's confidence, he would always worry and look after him. Sebastian was his little brother and, as the oldest, he felt a bit responsible for him even if it meant being accused of acting like a parent. Gordon was also concerned because of the increase in terrorist attacks against military installations around the globe. Over the past few months, there had also been an uptick in attacks against civilian targets in Europe. He and Samantha often talked about how strange it was that the terrorists had never attempted those attacks in the United States. With the porous border to the south, he just felt that the U.S. would not always be so lucky. He knew that eventually the terrorists would come back and the next large attack could be so damaging it could bring the country to its knees.

Gordon put aside the thoughts about the harshness of the world and refocused on having a good time with his brother. After a few more beers, some laughs, and a brief trip down memory lane, the brothers said good-bye to one another.

After walking him to the front door, Gordon gave Sebastian a hug and said, “If you ever need anything, you call me; don't hesitate. We're here for you.”

“I will, Gordo. I love you, brother,” Sebastian always felt bad when he had to leave. He hated good-byes.

As Sebastian walked down the sidewalk Gordon yelled after him, “Stay frosty, Marine.”

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

—
Aristotle

San Diego, California

“This is a CNN News Alert. A series of explosions have gone off in downtown Seattle inside of CenturyLink Field, home of the Seattle Seahawks. The number of casualties is unknown at this moment. We go to our local affiliate, who is reporting from a helicopter above the ballpark.”

“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, 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.

“What appears to have happened is three different suicide bombers have blown themselves up. We are being told that the first explosion happened at a security checkpoint. Apparently, the security staff had noticed something odd about someone in line and when they approached him, he blew himself up. The other two explosions happened within a minute of the first. As of right now, we are getting conflicting numbers of casualties, ranging from fifty to maybe one hundred and fifty. It is just chaos here right now.”

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 twenty-five hundred 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 Second Battalion Fourth Marines; it was everything he wanted it to be. They were under the command of Lieutenant Colonel 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 that 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, District of Columbia

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 twenty-eight 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. 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 five feet five 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.