Anthony DeCosmo - Schism

On Saturday a warm front pushed off the dreary weather and brought sunshine to the shore. The two spent most of the day on the beach. An influx of jellyfish captured JB's attention.

On Sunday, JB got his chance to visit the boardwalk. Tucker managed to get Morey's Pier sealed off for two hours, making Ashley, JB, the security team, and a flock of seagulls the only souls on the big wharf full of rides and games. JB loved it, but to Ashley it felt sad, especially with the scent of fresh roasted peanuts and scraps of napkins and discarded tickets drifting among the amusements and kiosks.

She took him round and round the carousel, and on the kiddy train, and watched him zip up and down in a miniature airplane. Her son enjoyed the rides, but not in the same way other children might. From the saddle on the merry-go-round, JB shouted fantasies of riding with the cavalry. On the train he imagined himself escorting a supply convoy to isolated colonies out west. From the cockpit of the mini plane he shot Hivvan Screamers from the sky.

Near the end of their day, mom and son entered a fun house. Once inside they moved along a passage through a slowly-turning tube that played havoc with their sense of up and down. They wobbled across a rope-bridge above paper alligators in a phony river made from blue streamers. Further along, crazy inflatable clowns burst from barrels with synthesized chuckles.

Near the end of the attraction they came to a hall of mirrors that absolutely fascinated Jorge. He ran to one in particular that warped his already small body even smaller, as if he were a soda can crunched at both ends. "Look at this one, mommy! It makes me look smaller than I really am!" Ashley smiled but movement from behind another mirror grabbed her attention. "General Shepherd said you asked to see me."

Standing in the shadowy hall of mirrors was a woman who could easily have passed for her early twenties but Ashley knew her true age to be over thirty. She had sharp blue eyes and blonde hair with wavy curls that, for some inconceivable reason, was pulled tight into a pony tail that drooped between her shoulder blades.

"Nina Forest," Ashley said almost certainly too loud; voices echoed in the fun house.

The two women stood silent for a moment, listening for any sounds of suspicion from the I.S. team waiting outside. When nothing happened, Ashley walked closer to the soldier while Jorge bounced about the hall of mirrors giggling at how the glass stretched, flattened, or otherwise warped his image.

Nina wore green camouflage BDU pants and a black t-shirt. She did not have a rifle but did carry a sword strapped tight to one leg and a pistol on a thigh rig along the other.

Ashley did not recall if she ever met Nina Forest in person before. Perhaps she had, back in the early days after Ashley had been pulled from her ark ride. However, she had seen this woman before in photographs taken during the time that Ashley had been thought dead; a time when Trevor had fallen in love with this woman.

In a sense, Ashley realized they shared one thing in common; both women had lost a year of their lives. The difference being that Ashley's year passed in the blink of an eye, but Nina lived those months, only to have the memories stolen by an alien implant.

"I've heard a lot about you," Ashley told Nina the truth. "You are highly regarded."

Nina, her eyes wandering around the chamber, said, "I am very sorry for your loss. I mean, I feel badly for you and your son. It must be very hard for you."

Ashley wondered how hard Trevor's death hit Nina. Were the memories and feelings truly gone, or merely suppressed? How had she taken the news of the assassination? "I think it has been hard on all of us, but thank you for your concern." "Mrs. Stone-" "Ashley."

"Ashley, whatever you need from me, I'll do my best. I like to think that Trev-your husband-could count on me. That is, to get the job done."

Ashley saw that the poor girl felt uneasy. The hardened warrior fidgeted and stumbled with her words. Was it possible that Captain Forest had grown fond of Trevor from a distance? What would it do to her now to find out about the year she had shared with Trevor?

Ashley told her, "Yes, Trevor counted on you. He needs to count on you one more time."

"Mommy!" Jorge raced over to another mirror. "This one makes me look really funny!"

Ashley pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of her blue khakis. She handed it to Forest, who read the words printed on the ticket. "A voucher? For the Orange Bowl in Miami?" "You'll need Gordon Knox's help." Nina's brow furled. "The Director of Intelligence? He died in a fire a couple of days ago."

Ashley smiled, a little. "I think Gordon decided it was time to make his exit. But if he is still alive and they find out, they will try to kill him again."

"Who?"

"Gordon gave me this ticket and told me to use it if I ever need anything. You use it. Tell him you're working on my behalf." Tucker's shout reverberated through the fun house, "Ma'am, are you okay in there?" "We're fine! Jorge is playing. We'll be out in a minute." "I still don't know what this is all about. What do I need Knox's help with?" "I want you to find out who was really behind Trevor's assassination."

She could tell by Nina's expression that a million questions shot through the woman's mind, starting with the idea that the assassination had been something more than the official account. Ashley saw that while Nina Forest may be an expert soldier, she still had much to learn.

Out of those million questions, Nina focused on one: "Why me?"

Ashley replied, "Do this and I'll tell you the truth you've always wanted to know. I'll give you all the secrets about the year you can't remember."

Nina Forest blinked fast but said nothing. JB tugged on the soldier's sleeve and pulled. Nina-shocked into silence-let the boy turn her to face a mirror that stretched her petite body to long and tall. Jorge giggled.

Footsteps ended the meeting. Nina-eyes still wide-disappeared toward a maintenance area and a manhole cover that led below the boardwalk. Tucker and two guards entered the hall.

"Hey, was there someone in here with you? I swear I heard voices."

"It's a fun house, Mr. Tucker. Your imagination must have got the better of you."

Mother and son left. Tucker stood amongst the mirrors while the other two guards followed their charges.

More than voices, he was certain he heard a name.

Nina Forest.

The midday June sun beat down hard on Washington D.C., but a breeze-not cool, but not quite so hot, either-blew across the roof of the White House. Dante closed his eyes and let the gust sweep over his body, enjoying a split-second's relief.

He had followed a security team to the roof as they patrolled the grounds in preparation for Evan Godfrey's big press conference. While the team moved on, Dante remained behind. At first he told himself this was simply an impulse left over from his previous post but the longer he lingered on the roof the more he realized he was really trying to hide.

From his vantage point, Dante saw a podium and chairs on a small patch of south side lawn. A few early-bird members of the press and their cameramen waited there, scribbling notes and checking equipment. Like so many of the sights these days, the one below seemed somewhat surreal; pieces of the old world re-assembling. A press corps, trade unions, vacation resorts, and even rush hour traffic at a few of the major settlements. Not nearly the size or scope as before the invasion, but eerily close.

Jones turned his eyes toward the city surrounding the White House. He spied the ragtag kiosks and carts of the markets on the Ellipse, the scarred Washington monument sticking up into a clear blue sky, and the pillars and posts marking the remains of the Jefferson memorial.