Devon Ford - The Fall

“Nothing indicates that they are aware it was us,” she said, her voice sounding cool and confident in contrast to the excited and nervous generals now standing slightly behind her. “And the majority of primary and secondary targets are on course to be destroyed by tonight. We are ready for the next phase, Your Excellency,” she said, bowing again but not stepping backwards.

The president thought for a few seconds before glancing up and locking eyes with her.

“Proceed,” he told her, and seemed to tell her alone, before waving a hand and dismissing them all. They bowed and left the office.

“One moment,” he called after them, making all of them turn, hopeful that they had been addressed personally, but they saw that he was only looking at the woman in the creased black suit. She walked back inside leaving the gaggle of disappointed uniforms behind and flashed them a small smile as she closed the doors herself.

“Your Excellency?” she enquired politely as she approached.

“I am surprised to see you here,” he told her, still not looking at her but keeping his eyes on the papers on his desk. “I was expecting your superior.”

“He is resting, Excellency. It has been a long night,” she said carefully.

“And a longer day,” replied the president, looking up at her as he leaned back in his chair, “but I suspect you haven’t stopped to rest.”

“No, Excellency,” she answered with a depreciating smile. “I have not.”

“I like that,” he told her, “it shows dedication and commitment. Now, take this”—he handed her something the size of a business card—“and report to me directly whenever you need to.”

She took the card and bowed. Turning back from the door she took a gamble and glanced back.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she said, risking his displeasure by reminding him of their family connection. He smiled a small admonishment at his niece, and waved her away with a final piece of advice.

“The greatest victory is that which requires no battle,” he told her, his meaning obvious; he wanted little or no casualties in the next phase of the operation.

She walked away, the quote bouncing around in her brain as she tried to fathom how the remaining population of the United States could be subdued without casualties. Still, already on their way to the continent was a land force the size of which had not been seen since the combined western nations invaded Iraq, and she doubted that any shattered remnants of the American military could withstand that without air superiority and an intact command structure. After grabbing ten minutes sleep in the car on the way back to the command center, she pulled a bag from the trunk and strode inside, bypassing the security station without question.

Now, dressed in a fresh black suit and white blouse, she gave the order to invade, not waiting for confirmation from her superiors.

After their flight from the dangers of Central Park during a blackout and in the midst of anarchy, the four unlikely allies helped themselves to transport at a CitiBike stand by 72 ndStreet. All four were quiet, mostly for their own reasons, and none of them had much in the way of breath to spare. Blasting through the streets, weaving around abandoned cars and dodging looters, they had a tense moment as they had to divert the inferno that had once been a massive department store. Eventually hitting Riverside Drive, they turned north again, abandoning the bikes at the 79 thStreet Basin.

It seemed that they weren’t the only ones with the same idea, and the rows of empty moorings were testament to that. Sebastian peered through the light of the pre-dawn to find his own boat, breathing out a sigh of relief that it was still there. The basin operated a boat office by the café, and the others followed Sebastian’s obvious lead as he strode toward it, kicking in the wooden door without even checking if it was open. He hit the lock of a metal cabinet twice with the butt of his gun, opened it and ran his fingers over the ranks of keys until he found the right mooring number. Grabbing the keys on the big, floating keychain he turned and went back outside.

Leading the way along the wooden pier, he stopped at a small fishing vessel with a covered pilot deck and froze.

The characteristic sound of a shotgun being pumped to chamber a round chilled their spines in unison. Sebastian slowly holstered his gun and held his hands aloft as he turned.

“It’s okay, Jake,” he said, trying to reassure the young cop that he didn’t need to try and take charge. “Cal, Louise, lower your weapons.”

As suddenly as he had frozen, he now dropped his hands and laughed.

“Jesus, brother, you scared the shit out of me!” he said, stepping forward and grabbing the man with shotgun in a tight embrace. The two men rocked back and forth as they hugged it out, laughing.

“I’ve been here since midnight,” the man with the shotgun said, disengaging. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

“Me? Come on, man…” Sebastian said, hands out wide and wearing a smile. “Nothing’s killed me yet!”

“Cal, Jake, Louise, this is my friend,” he said. “Meet Joe Wilkins. CIA”

Joe hit him in the shoulder. “Asshole, you’re not supposed to tell people that,” he said.

“That explains a lot,” Jake said, shaking the man’s hand. “I’m guessing that’s where you learned to do all that stuff?” he said to Sebastian.

“Yeah,” he replied, “retired two years ago.”

“Well, not really retired…” Joe said, smiling more broadly.

“Enough about that,” Sebastian said quickly, changing the subject. “Any calls?” he asked his former colleague.

“Nothing,” he said seriously, “protocols to head north are in play.” Sebastian turned to the others.

“We’re heading for Canada to reform. You’re welcome to join us,” he told them.

The three of them looked at each other.

“I’m going home, to West Virginia” Louise said groggily. Cal tried to be gallant and said that he was staying with her to make sure she got back safely. Jake was torn between rejoining the fight against terror and protecting civilians, but just behind the first thought came the realization that any government base would likely be a target and heading inland to get off the grid was a safer option. He wanted to say that he would head home, find his family, but he knew that the likelihood of finding them safe as he headed toward a nuclear fallout cloud was less than sensible.

“Okay,” Sebastian said, “we’ll take you to the other side of the Hudson.” He unclipped the duty belt and handed it back to Jake as he stepped down to the deck. Jake began to respond as Sebastian used the keys to open the heavy tackle box built into the boat’s furniture. Before the cop could offer for him to keep the weapon, he straightened with a compact submachine gun and slapped in a magazine before tossing it to Joe. Jake kept quiet about his offer to give up a single Glock.

They cast off inside of two minutes, Sebastian revving the boat’s engine and pointing them west. Jake stole a look into the box to see more weaponry on show before he summed up the courage to ask if he could play with another boy’s toys.

Two men dressed in black and carrying suppressed assault weapons jogged onto the pier just as the five people floated away from the wooden walkway. The leader stopped and pulled a face, knowing that his quarry had escaped, even if it was only a personal mission and not critical to the overall plan. His backup raised his weapon and leaned into it, taking a bead on the back of the vessel. A hand appeared on the rifle stock and gently lowered it before he was spoken to in Mandarin.