Phil came back into the cabin with the bucket full of water, which he poured into a pot on the gas stove. After he lit the burner, he excused himself as he ran upstairs to put on warmer clothes. He bounded downstairs, gave Clementine a pat and a smile, and set to chopping vegetables. As Mary waited for Phil to finish dinner, she turned on the old battery operated radio on a nearby shelf and began to twist the knobs until a station came in.
"....kept open for emergency use. *EERP! EERRP! EERP!*” Phil stopped chopping and looked at the radio. “This is an Emergency Action Notification. All broadcast stations and cable systems shall transmit this Emergency Action Notification Message. This station has interrupted its regular programming at the request of the White House to participate in the Emergency Alert System. During this emergency, most stations will remain on the air providing news and information to the public in assigned areas. This is KRDO. We will continue to serve the Colorado Springs area. If you are not in this Local Area, you should tune to stations providing news and information for your Local Area. You are listening to the Emergency Alert System serving the Colorado Springs area. Do not use your telephone. The telephone lines should be kept open for emergency use. *EERP! EERRP! EERP!* "
There was a brief silence, and Phil looked wide eyed at Mary. He looked as if he was about to speak, but she put a thin finger over her lips to shush him.
"My fellow Americans. At approximately 9 p.m. EST, major cities from all over our nation began reporting multiple and apparently synchronized bombings and attacks on infrastructure and civilians. Individuals identifying themselves as G.R.A.C.O. contacted the U.S. government approximately 30 minutes into the attack with a series of demands, including the surrender of our entire country to their forces.
"I have chosen not to surrender your freedom. Instead, martial law is effective immediately until further notice. Please coordinate with your local military.
"This is your President, signing off. God bless America."
"Amen," murmured Mary as she set down her spoon and looked back at Phil.
"Was that real?" he asked.
"Yes," she sighed. So it begins. "I need an inventory of what you brought with you so I can review our assets."
Phil did not hear her. "You mean we've been invaded?"
"Yes, Phil. I need you to stay calm…”
"We..." he started. "Oh my god, we have to get Lena!"
He set down his knife and started to quickly clean off his hands with a dish towel.
"Slow down, Phil," Mary said sternly as she stood up. "One thing at a time."
"No, seriously, Mary!" replied Phil, panic rising in his voice. "We have to go back now! I can't just leave her in L.A.!"
"And how are we supposed to get to L.A., Phil? Take my motorcycle? It's a long drive, and Clem doesn't like company in the side car."
"We'll take my helicopter to the hanger outside of Colorado Springs. Then we'll hop my jet to L.A."
That brought Mary up short. "I'm sorry," she blinked. "Your WHAT?"
"My helicopter. I charted a helicopter to get out here. It's out back. Sam, the pilot, will get us back to the hangar..."
"Wait wait... you have a helicopter in my backyard? And someone else is here? Where is he?"
"Um, I'm not sure. I... man, I wonder where he ran off to?"
As if on cue, the machine gun fire started ripping through the cabin. Mary launched herself to the floor and crawled behind the wood burning stove while Clementine knocked Phil to the floor and dragged him behind some cabinets. There was a pause in gun fire, so the old lady risked a peek around the stove, Glock at the ready. The gunfire had shattered the front windows, indicating that the enemy was to the north, likely finding cover in the island of aspens out front. With the lights on, they were sitting ducks.
Mary took action, dove for her helmet on the table, and commando rolled out the side door into the night, inviting a hail of bullets to chase her into the woods. As soon as she was in the brush she slapped down the visor on her helmet. A press of a button brought up night vision; a second button brought up heat signatures. Burning bright in her vision was a large human form crouched exactly where she predicted: in the aspens. Mary whistled a three note tune into the night, and five seconds later, Clementine was barreling into the night towards the enemy. The human form rose to fire, and that was all Mary needed. She shot once before he could pull the trigger.
The large dog ran over to the body, sniffed, and barked once.
"Stay there, Clem," Mary called. "We'll be over in a second."
The old woman shuffled back into the cabin, stepping over the shards of glass that littered the floor, to retrieve Phil.
"Phil," she said to the cowering figure under the sink. When he didn't respond, she tried again, this time more gently.
"Phil," she said softly. "It's okay. He's dead. Come on out." He turned to look at her. He was white as a sheet and trembling.
A part of her was annoyed, and that part of her wanted to slap him, tell him to be a man, point out caustically that real life gun fights aren't so entertaining, are they Mr. Hollywood? But the other part of her felt sorry for him, sorry for America. Most normal citizens have only seen such things glamorized on screen. They aren't prepared for the messy reality of war. He should be scared; life just became so much more fragile for the masses.
Kindness won out, and so Mary helped him up, encouraged him to get dressed, convinced him to take a look at the body out front to see if he recognized the enemy. Phil recognized him immediately.
"Oh...oh my god. That's... that's Sam!" he declared. "That's my pilot! Why is he wearing a military uniform? Why was he trying to kill me?"
"Good questions, " said Mary as she bent down to search the body. The man wore a black knit hat, black and gray military fatigues and combat boots, none of which were U.S. military issue. A black isosceles triangle patch was sewn on the right bicep of the uniform, a laminated map of the Brickland compound was folded neatly in an inner chest pocket, and tags similar to military dog tags were hung on a necklace around his neck.
The tags read:
Samuel F. Swanson
A.B.F. III
Chicago
His weapon was an AK-47, a standard issue semi-automatic rifle for the Soviet military. Several full magazines were littered on the ground.
"More and more questions, Mr. Swanson," Mary grumbled. "Phil, take me to the helicopter."
The helicopter, round and black, was parked in a field behind the cabin. It was a basic transportation machine with bubble like appearance. Sam's other clothes were folded neatly on the seat, a wallet placed on top of the stack of clothes. After a quick look, Mrs. MacGregor ordered everyone to load up. Clementine trotted off to retrieve her duffle bag. Phil, on the other hand, just stared at her.
"You can't fly one of these things, can you?"
"Surprise, Phil, " she drawled. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve. Pack it up, sonny. Get food."
He hesitated. "Seriously?"
"YES. SERIOUSLY," Mary snapped, not used to having her orders questioned. "Now move!"
Mary relieved the body of its clothing, gun, and ammo while Phil ran off to do her bidding. The helicopter was off the ground in 10 minutes, and headed back east to the private airport where Phil kept his jet.
"Are we going to L.A. to get Lena?" Phil asked over the con.
Mary was concerned about her daughter as much as she was concerned about her only other child, Jennifer. Jennifer was too far away to help. However, Sam the pilot had a map of Lena and Phil's home, which meant Lena could be in immediate trouble. Some maternal instincts were starting to kick in and overpower her survival instincts.
"Dammit, "she growled. "Yes. Now shut up and let me think."
What if this hanger was compromised, littered with more people like Sam? Was Sam part of this G.R.A.C.O. organization, or just part of a lame kidnapping scheme? How were they going to get to the plane and keep Pretty Boy safe? Once in the air, how close were they going to get to Brickland's house before running into G.R.A.C.O. agents?
The dark landscape of Colorado whipped by below them as Mary formulated a plan.
"Phil," the old lady said. "Get into uniform. I have an acting job for you."
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