《Eyes of Bloodshed》


 Chapter 1 - Sarah Gillian

    ¡°Fuck, this pregnancy is going to be the death of me.¡±


    Moonlight cast ethereal beams through the window of Sarah Gillian¡¯s bedroom. She begrudgingly sat amidst the rays of light, the building pressure in her bladder forcing her into action.


    She huffed out a string of mumbled expletives as she struggled to stand. Her tiny frame overwhelmed by the growing swell of her belly, making it impossible to move as she once would.


    A few futile attempts later, she finally found herself vertical. Her spine arched to support the new weight and her feet throbbed with each step. She ached from head to toe, but her newfound waddle made the necessary adventure to the restroom more comfortable.


    After an infuriating process of relieving herself, she felt much more human, more willing to greet the night with the respect it deserved.


    Sarah stood in front of the massive window in her bedroom, looking up at the moon, studying its illuminated magnificence. Sarah adored how the moon and stars consumed the darkness, sparkling like beacons of faraway dreams. She¡¯d always loved the night and its unsuspecting beauty.


    She turned to her bed, seeing her husband still fast asleep. Sarah smiled at his relaxed state, his limbs thrown haphazardly across the bed. Her heart swelled as she imagined them starting a family together. Though Sarah wanted to go cuddle him, she knew she would find neither comfort nor sleep if she joined him again. With slight disappointment, she quietly left the room, giving her husband a few more hours of sleep.


    The beauty of the night around her house inspired her. With nature acting as her muse, Sarah felt the urge to paint.


    Using only natural lighting, Sarah set up an easel in her living room. She moved around the canvas with ease, the motions engrained deep within her. She cast blues, blacks, whites and yellows upon the once bare paper. The night coming to life before her between the spiraling hues of dark and contrasting the light.


    The sun had begun to rise when she set the paint brushes down. She found a sense of peace in her art when she stepped back to look at the finished product. Her hands, pajamas and hair had smudges of paint, though she didn¡¯t notice nor care.


    She smiled, content with her efforts. After a few moments of appreciation, Sarah tidied up her late-night hobby and set her sights towards a new goal: breakfast.


    In the kitchen, she hummed a familiar tune to herself and she gently swayed her hips. She stretched above the stove, grabbing a few spices to utilize in her meal. The crackling oil beneath threatened to reach out and burn her but she raised a brow in response, as if asking the oil where it found the audacity to attempt such a thing, before turning down the heat.


    She continued to dance to the tune in her own head. She chopped vegetables, cracked four eggs, and grated some cheese with elation fueling her movements.


    Placing her freshly washed hands on the swell of her stomach, she cooed good morning to the unknown infant inside her. The idea of being a first-time mother consumed her with excitement and trepidation. Though she knew, together, she and her partner could handle any storm to come.


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    Sarah had just dropped the omelet mixture in the sizzling pan when she heard a floorboard creek behind her. She smiled and continued her mission as if she hadn¡¯t heard anything.


    Another quiet creek was heard, this time slightly closer to her. Sarah smiled wider, her back facing the noise, shielding her face. Quietly, she chuckled before speaking.


    ¡°Good morning, my darling husband,¡± she mused.


    She heard a faint muttering behind her before two arms wrapped around her, cradling her and her belly.


    ¡°How do you always know?¡± he chuckled, kissing her temple softly.


    She laughed, leaning back into his embrace, ¡°You¡¯re just that predictable.¡±


    ¡°Here I was thinking I was a spontaneous romantic. Guess it¡¯s time to go back to the drawing board,¡± he stated with a smirk against her hair.


    ¡°You¡¯re perfect just the way you are. But, sneaking up on a heavily pregnant woman cooking you breakfast wasn¡¯t your smartest idea.¡±


    ¡°Ah. I suppose when you put it like that¡­¡± he trailed off imaging how things could have gone poorly very quickly.


    Sarah turned in his arms and wove her dainty fingers in his hair, ¡°I guess it¡¯s a good thing your wife has superpowers. You¡¯ll never be able to sneak up on me.¡±


    He smiled at her, momentarily lost in her eyes. She pulled him closer kissing him softly between mumbled I-love-yous.


    The heat upon Sarah¡¯s back reminded her of breakfast causing her to gently pull away. ¡°Can you set the table for me? Breakfast is almost ready.¡±


    Her husband stole one more searing kiss, tucking her long wavy hair behind her ear before nodding at her request.


    The couple continued with their individual tasks, moving around each other with practiced ease. When Sarah¡¯s husband had completed setting the table for two, he put the T.V. on, as was part of his morning ritual. The television broadcasting recent events broke the silence of their quaint little home.


    ¡°Do we really need that this morning?¡± Sarah asked in a lighthearted tone.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to keep up to date, Sarah,¡± he chuckled, knowing she didn¡¯t really mind.


    Sarah chose to tune out the news of the day, opting to focus on the musical cacophony in her head instead.


    She finished breakfast and placed the omelets on the table. Her husband had propped a pillow in her chair for her and she found herself pleasantly comfortable upon sitting down.


    ¡°Thanks, love,¡± she stated with genuine appreciation in her eyes.


    ¡°Anything for you,¡± he responded, raising a brow at the amount of hot sauce she was pouring on her omelet. Perhaps wisely, he chose not to comment on it.


    They ate together, chatting about how to organize the nursery and any last-minute plans they needed to complete before the baby arrived.


    During their discussion of pram options, Sarah had glanced up at the clock.


    ¡°Oh! Peter! You need to get to work!¡±


    Her husband¡¯s eyes darted to the clock before jumping out of his seat. ¡°Where did the time go?¡± he muttered, running up the stairs to get dressed.


    Sarah leaned back to watch him sprint off, chuckling at his haste.


    They were both so blissfully consumed by their near future that they had missed the daunting news report upon the T.V.


    ¡°Tensions have continued to rise in Caledorn as Remdia threatens to invade. Though, with Remdia¡¯s forces seemingly gathering on the border of Caledorn, it looks as though this isn¡¯t just a threat. The attack is becoming more real by the second. Please stay tuned.¡±

 Chapter 2 - Peter Gillian

    Peter Gillian smiled and waved at Sarah as he reversed down their driveway, his heart and stomach were full after their morning together.


    Peter was profoundly excited to become a father. It had always been a dream of his, and, after finding Sarah, he knew he would never find a more perfect woman to raise a family with.


    Pulling onto the street of his cul-de-sac, his smile grew as he recalled various memories throughout their relationship.


    He remembered their first date in university, a time that had become a memory of cringey moments due to his awkward behavior. Still, he smiled at the memory of spitting water on her when she had said she¡¯d always found him cute. That compliment was the first of many he¡¯d hear from her sweet lips.


    The next memory that flashed behind his eyelids was more recent. He had come home to a giddy Sarah and, while he was elated that she was happy, he remembered being perplexed. It wasn¡¯t until she had sat him down and told him he was going to be a father that he was able to understand. They had been trying for years to have a baby of their own. The day that their pregnancy test read positive would forever be one of the happiest moments in his life.


    He slowly tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of their first dance while replaying his favorite moments of recent months.


    Moments of rubbing Sarah¡¯s feet, visiting their doctor, hearing their baby¡¯s heartbeat and early morning ice cream runs came to his mind in quick succession.


    It seemed nothing could diminish his mood as he waved to various neighbors, driving through the roads of his gated community.


    Everyone he passed wore a smile like his. If he was in a worse mood, he might have thought all the fake smiles were straight out of a horror film, that his community was forged out of unrealistic expectations and gold gilded lives but on that day, he was chuffed with the reciprocated happiness.


    Upon his arrival to the gates of his community, the guards simply nodded at him as they opened the heavy metal doors.


    He drove cautiously through his town, his mind subconsciously aware that he had a family to support and provide for now.


    At a stop light, he quickly glanced at the radio, flicking it on. In his stupor of joy, he had forgotten all about the morning talk show that he liked to listen to. He figured he¡¯d catch a few minutes of it before arriving at work.


    The sounds of a duo known as Larry and Gary soon filled the car. Peter had found them mindlessly entertaining and a good way to spend his commute. The two men, who were childhood friends, often spoke about current events and their own wild experiences.


    ¡°So. Let¡¯s talk about the elephant in the room!¡± Larry began.


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    ¡°Ahh. Yes. The war brewing between our lovely Remdia and Caledorn? I heard our Remdian president is actually sending troops to the border,¡± Gary responded, his voice filled with more remorse than Peter had ever heard. The unfamiliar tone unnerved Peter, causing him to grip the steering wheel tighter.


    ¡°That¡¯s not actually going to happen though right, bro? Most of our listeners are Caledornians! We have no problems with those lovely humans.¡± Larry chuckled, an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.


    ¡°If only we had a say in it,¡± Gary spoke, still horribly morose.


    Larry mumbled something inaudible before changing the subject entirely, ¡°Well, what about that football game last night?¡±


    The two fell back into their normal chipper personas as they discussed highlights of the game but Peter tuned it out as dread settled into his bones. Hearing that troops were moving towards the border sent a wave of terror through him. The simple fact that his growing family lived in Caledorn caused his heart to stutter for a moment.


    He had traveled to Remdia often, both for work and pleasure. The neighboring countries had always been welcoming to one another. Even through their differences, there was always peace between them. Peter struggled to imagine what could have caused this to transpire. He had kept up to date with all the latest politics and yet, nothing stood out as a precursor to war. Nothing made sense to him.


    Negative thoughts plagued his mind, his drive to work inevitably taking an ominous turn.


    He pulled into the parking garage below his office building, his mind still reeling. He sighed and rested his head upon the steering wheel.


    ¡°Have faith in the government,¡± he quietly whispered to himself. ¡°They won¡¯t let this happen, Peter.¡±


    It was a simple affirmation he chose to soothe his current worries. Unfortunately, it had little effect.


    Peter screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before grabbing his briefcase and opening his door. With every step towards the elevator, he tried to leave his fears behind. He tried to focus on Sarah and their baby, on the happiness he felt moments ago. He tried to remember the beauty in the world, but his mind kept imagining bloodstained streets instead.


    His body moving on its own accord, closer to the metal doors of the elevator.


    As he pressed the up button, he couldn¡¯t help but want to be with Sarah. To support her in this trying time and create a plan together. He also needed her calming presence to ease his worries.


    The doors started to close before he could step into the metal contraption.


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    Peter instantly threw out his hand, stopping the elevator doors from closing. He turned his head to see a co-worker running towards him.


    ¡°Phew! Thanks, Peter. You running a bit late this morning too?¡± his coworker curiously asked.


    ¡°Uhm, yeah. I guess so,¡± Peter tried to formulate coherent sentences, but his mind was too plagued by fear.


    ¡°You okay, Peter? Is Sarah okay?¡± his colleague asked hesitantly.


    Upon hearing her name, Peter made up his mind. Work wasn¡¯t important that day, not when his wife sat alone in their house and the threat of a battle hung over his head. He¡¯d call out properly on his way home, surely his boss would understand.


    ¡°Uh. Yeah, she¡¯s okay,¡± Peter started. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m going to go back to her, something is telling me I need to be with her today. She¡¯s more important than all this.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ I hope everything is alright?¡± his coworker sounded obviously confused but Peter didn¡¯t care how insane he sounded.


    Peter nodded, ¡°Thanks Dom. Take care of yourself.¡±


    Without another word, Peter turned on his heel and marched back to his car, mentally compiling a list of steps to keep his growing family alive. Something deep inside him said he needed to take his family and run. He needed to protect them, whatever the cost.

 Chapter 3 - Dominik Stanley

    Dominik Stanley shook off the odd conversation he¡¯d had with Peter and walked to his office, respectfully nodding to a few coworkers he passed. Had he been more energized he might have added a smile or wave, but on that morning, a nod would suffice.


    He¡¯d worked for Langley law firm for about five years. He wasn¡¯t a lawyer, in fact the idea of being one made him cringe. He had no interest standing before a court nor defending their typical clientele. As a prestigious law firm, many influential people with a lot of money hired them to get out of a bind.


    No, Dominik was much happier to file paperwork and organize case files. He worked on a floor with Peter and seven others. They worked tirelessly to finish reports, and make sure everything was in order for the lawyers. He didn¡¯t want anything else.


    Upon arriving in his office, he sat his briefcase down and immediately moved towards the nearest pot of coffee. His newest child had kept him up most of the night and he was in serious need of caffeine.


    He groggily stepped into the little kitchenette on his office¡¯s floor, catching the eye of a few coworkers. He steeled his spine knowing this particular clique always had something to say, but with the promise of coffee he was willing to accept any snide comments thrown his way.


    ¡°Ah. Dom, those bags under your eyes are only getting bigger. Thought you knew how to manage kids at this point. This is your third, after all,¡± one of his coworkers pointed out snidely, causing the others to snicker.


    ¡°You can have a million kids and still not know how to manage them,¡± Dom stated flatly.


    Perhaps sensing the disdain in his voice, the others ended the conversation there, turning to chat amongst themselves as Dom patiently waited for his coffee to brew. He tuned out their conversation, choosing to listen to the glorious drips of his favorite liquid fill his ¡°Number 1 Dad¡± mug.


    A pleasant ding signified that his coffee was ready. Dom preferred when coffee was more caffeine than anything, so the dark brown color barely changed with his slight milk addition.


    Without addressing the others, he made his way back to his desk. He sighed as he relaxed into his chair, holding the mug close to his face. The smell wafted into his nostrils, electrifying the synapses in his brain. He took a greedy gulp, not concerned about the aggressive temperature.


    A content smile covered his face. ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± he whispered dreamily.


    Suddenly, he felt ready to start the day. He filtered through the files upon his desk trying to get a grasp for what his day held. To his surprise, it looked like a phenomenally simple day.


    With newfound vigor, Dominik settled himself into the monotonous grind of his work.


    Hours had passed without Dominik moving from his office, but his stiff back reminded him that he needed to stretch.


    Slowly, he made his way back to the kitchenette for more energizing elixir. He waited patiently for his second brew while stretching out his arms and legs.


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    He was in the middle of trying to crack his back with a twist when the same coworkers from that morning reappeared. Dominik sighed and attempted to ignore them once more, though the new conversation proved much harder to disregard.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe those dicks from Remdia are planning on invading us.¡±


    ¡°Pfft. We¡¯re Caledorn. We will stop them. It¡¯s a losing battle, stupid to even start it really.¡±


    Dominik gripped his mug a little tighter, the heat of the coffee burning him slightly. He let go immediately and gripped the counter instead. He had yet to hear anything about the invasion.


    "Well, Remdia has focused on building up their military a lot in recent years, maybe their president is just trying to test that strength.¡±


    ¡°Why test it on us? That seems like a bad choice. We have nothing!¡±


    ¡°We have oil...¡±


    Dominik stopped listening while his mind ran through all the possible scenarios. Through his volatile thoughts, he found himself agreeing with one coworker, Caledorn would stop any battle before it began. He was sure of that. He knew his wife and children would be safe. He trusted the government to protect them all.


    Dominik then thought of his family in Remdia. His sister had moved there a few years prior. He hated to think about what this new tension could mean for Caledornian citizens in Remdia.


    ¡°Dom,¡± a familiar voice pierced through the office gossip.


    Dominik spun around to see his boss standing there, all previous thoughts vanished. His palms started sweating at the idea of being in trouble. He had asked for a lot of time off to help his wife lately, but he needed the job.


    Dominik gulped, eyeing up the large man before him. His boss had the sleeves of his white top rolled up to his elbows, a sliver of his tattoos on display. He had a looming presence wherever he went from his size alone. The scowled brow he wore in that moment only made him look more threatening.


    Dominik shyly waved at him, intimidated by him even though he¡¯d been nothing but kind to him.


    ¡°Follow me to my office, please,¡± his boss stated with a nod of his head to the left and a slight smirk.


    Dominik gulped and retrieved his coffee, ignoring the mutterings about him being in trouble. With a hint of fear, he headed off towards the boss¡¯s office, praying he wasn¡¯t about to be fired.


    His boss waved him in when he appeared in the doorway.


    ¡°Shut the door behind you, please.¡±


    Dominik did as he was told, shutting the door and heading to the seat opposite his boss¡¯s desk. He felt like he was back in grade school about to be told off by the principal for writing graffiti on the bathroom wall. He slunk his way to the seat, trying to muster an invisibility power along the way. He kept his face shielded by the mug as he sunk into the chair.


    ¡°I just wanted to say thank you for your great work,¡± his boss calmly stated.


    ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m not in trouble?¡± Dominik asked, perplexed.


    ¡°Oh no no, what made you think that?¡± the large man queried.


    Dominik stuttered out a response, ¡°Uh¡­ you¡­you looked kinda pissed and I¡¯ve been out a lot l-lately...¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been out to raise a family, hardly a reason to be in trouble! As for being pissed, I try to run a tight ship. And, unfortunately, most of those nimrods out there respond to fear,¡± his boss responded.


    Dominik nodded, understanding that he was a strict boss, but one of compassion too.


    ¡°So, Dom. Interested in a raise for all your efforts?¡± His boss asked, remaining nonchalant, before pushing a paper and pen across the desk.


    ¡°W-wait. Really?¡±


    Dominik¡¯s face broke out into a glorious smile knowing a raise could change the tight budget his family had to work around. He greedily leaned forward and swiped the pen off the desk. He scanned the document then glanced up to his boss.


    ¡°Thank you so much, Mr. Ryans. This means the world to me,¡± his tone cheerful and his smile bright.


    His boss chuckled, ¡°Just saying thank you, Dom. No worries.¡±


    Dominik forgot about everything prior as he scrawled his signature across the dotted line.

 Chapter 4 - Bruce Ryan

    Bruce chuckled as he watched Dom leave his office. On that day, he loved watching the once fearful look on Dom¡¯s face break out into pure elation. He liked improving his employees¡¯ lives.


    Bruce had always been known to rule with an iron fist, but he was fair. He had joined the company years previous and was now the head of an entire department. He took pride in his work and appreciated those who put effort in their work. Dom was definitely one of those people, he always went above and beyond his daily duties.


    Bruce leaned back in his sleek leather chair, a smile upon his face. He glanced at the clock on his wall, pleased to see he only had an hour left of work.


    He scrambled through the last bits and pieces of work so he wouldn¡¯t have to play catch up the following day. He liked clearing his desk every night and starting each day fresh. It helped him focus and remain productive.


    As the clock struck six, he leapt out of his chair and stretched his muscular arms above his head, ready to leave, at last.


    He waved to all his co-workers on his way out, most skittishly waving in response. The fear and intimidation others felt used to be annoying to him, but it turned out to be quite a helpful quality as a boss. He rarely had any problems in his department. Whether that was due to his tough appearance or the appreciation he had for his staff, he wasn¡¯t sure.


    He hopped into the elevator watching the numbers slowly decrease until PG was illuminated in red lights.


    Bruce stepped out into the parking garage with an undoubtable pep in his step. Finding his car and jumping in, he took off to his favorite after work stop, McDaniel¡¯s Pub.


    A short but familiar ride led Bruce directly to his desired location. It was a quaint little pub, though it remained the only place Bruce really enjoyed going to. He used to go all the time with his late father. It still served as a reminder of the strong man who had raised him, but it had become more like a second home.


    He glided up to the door, looking upon the chipped paint and rusted sign with a sense of admiration rather than the disgust he should have felt.


    The old pub had a sports theme that overwhelmed visitors who weren¡¯t expecting the wall-to-wall decor. Photos of famous athletes, newspaper clippings and various t-shirts lined the entire bar. The tables were a rough hewn wood, dented and chipped from years of rowdy patrons.


    Bruce inhaled the stale beer scent, nostalgia warming his soul while he approached the bar.


    ¡°Hey!¡± he cheerfully said, plopping down into his favorite barstool. It stood on the end of the bar, tucked behind a false wall. It gave him an ample view of the room while remaining somewhat hidden himself.


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    The bartender didn¡¯t take notice of him, yet. Her long blonde hair tied up in a messy bun matched the exasperated look in her eyes. She was talking to a few customers, clenching her fists under the bar as she spoke.


    Bruce kept his distance, knowing she could handle herself, but ready if anything were to happen. After being a regular for as long as he had been, the staff became like family to him. A family he¡¯d do anything for, including start a brawl.


    The patrons before her huffed before turning on their heels and marching out of the establishment.


    Bruce watched them intently, only releasing the tension in his back when the door swung shut behind them.


    ¡°Heya doll!¡± the bartender said as soon as she noticed Bruce in his normal spot. Her eyes look substantially happier upon reaching him.


    ¡°Hey! Problems?¡± he gestured to the door.


    ¡°Oh, nahh! They were just bitching about the cost of beers in sucha shithole,¡± her voice rose and octave while she pitifully mocked the previous customers.


    Bruce laughed at her attempt, ¡°Well, all the more for me, I guess!¡±


    ¡°Pfft,¡± she scoffed. ¡°When was the last time you had more than two?¡±


    ¡°Listen here. You know I gotta work, I can¡¯t be hungover every day. I¡¯m a boss now!¡± he attempted to reason, though a few more beers that night sounded nice.


    ¡°Yeah yeah. Big man on campus now, you¡¯ve forgotten how to party with us lowly folk,¡± the bartender jokingly jeered in Bruce¡¯s direction.


    ¡°This weekend. We¡¯ll see if I forgot to party,¡± he replied with a chuckle.


    In an instant, the bartender''s tone changed, the lightheartedness replaced with anger, ¡°Yeah¡­ if there is still a bar come this weekend.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Bruce asked, his own laughter dying down while being replaced with confusion.


    ¡°Doll, you¡¯ve seen what¡¯s happening in the news,¡± she stated accusingly.


    ¡°The invasion?¡± Bruce whispered, almost as if the words would be less real if they weren¡¯t said aloud.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ the invasion¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. We¡¯ll all be fine,¡± he tried to console her though his words felt hollow as they left his lips.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know who you¡¯re trying to convince, ¡®cause you did a piss poor job if it was me,¡± she remarked in her usual blunt tone.


    Bruce sighed in defeat. ¡°Well, honestly, I haven¡¯t even checked the news. I¡¯m not too fond of imagining my world dismantled by war.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not imagining, it¡¯s accepting, doll. They are moving forces to the border. They¡¯re armed and they will attack.¡± She held eye contact with Bruce through every syllable, hammering the reality deeper into his soul with every word.


    ¡°Well, what the fuck do we do now?¡± Bruce asked, showing fear for the first time since his father had died. If it had been anyone else, he would have shielded the dread better, but he was safe there. Safe to feel scared if he needed to.


    ¡°We drink, laugh and be merry. Not much else we can do. Unless you¡¯ve managed to buy an island outside all this bullshit with that new job of yours,¡± she smirked.


    ¡°No. No islands,¡± Bruce muttered, still caught in his all-encompassing distress. He was suddenly terrified. He wanted his father to sit him down and tell him everything would be alright. He wanted someone, anyone to tell him it was all just a bad dream.


    A glass slamming down in front of him snapped him out of his trance.


    ¡°Drink up, doll. I¡¯ll even give you the End of Days discount if you promise to drink more than two,¡± she winked at him.


    Bruce blinked at her, amazed by her tenacity and sheer strength in this harrowing moment. He studied her, then the beer before him.


    ¡°Well, if this is the end, I¡¯m glad I¡¯m with you,¡± he whispered to her.


    She blew him a gracious kiss in response.


    ¡°You, Sally Myers are a force to be reckoned with,¡± Bruce conceded. ¡°Line us up some shots!¡±


    The pair laughed, though it was plain to see, their smiles were hiding much darker emotions.

 Chapter 5 - Sally Myers

    Sally had grown up in the McDaniel¡¯s Pub, the late owner had taken her under his wing when she was young. It had been her first job and eventually, she inherited it. It was a safe haven to her, even with all the fights she had to break up.


    Sally served her patrons with a smile, even though the potential of war still tickled the back of her mind.


    Every once in a while, she¡¯d find her way back to Bruce. He had become like a big brother to her, and she had the utmost respect for him. Even if she refused to say it to his face, she hoped he knew how she felt.


    Every time she¡¯d visit him, he sat slightly lower in his seat, feeling the effects of alcohol coursing through his veins. She laughed at him before pouring them both another shot.


    ¡°You know I was right, yeah?¡± she started. ¡°You can¡¯t party any more.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­. Maybe you¡¯re right,¡± Bruce¡¯s words were slurred and his eyes glossy.


    She was happy to see him a little more relaxed. He had worked too hard after his father died and, if this war did happen, she hoped he¡¯d at least enjoyed himself that night.


    A startling crash pulled her attention to the other end of the bar.


    She looked up in time to see a bottle shattered below the neck thrust in the direction of another patron. The jagged edges only barely missed their jugular as they stumbled backwards.


    ¡°AY!¡± Sally screamed at the two patrons. Her once welcoming voice had transformed into a deep guttural growl when she addressed them.


    Every patron in the bar turned to look at her as she marched towards the pair.


    ¡°What in the fuck is going on here?¡± Sally demanded, stepping between them, well and truly ready to get physical if need be.


    ¡°He¡¯s a fucking Remdian!¡± the man holding the makeshift weapon screeched while gesturing with the broken bottle.


    ¡°What¡¯s your fucking point, mate?¡± Sally asked him, almost begging him to give her a reason to punch him.


    ¡°They are trying to invade us! Thousands of lives could be lost because of his people.¡±


    Sally rolled her eyes, ¡°You really think this punk has a goddamn thing to do with that?¡± She pointed to the skinny kid behind her struggling to stand on his own two feet.


    Before the perpetrator could speak, she continued, ¡°Or what¡­ he¡¯s got a gun, airship and tank in his back pocket ready to invade the whole of Caledorn now? Use you¡¯re fucking brain, this is a politicians war. Don¡¯t let those bastards high up sway your decisions down here in the gutters. We¡¯re all just surviving while they play God. Figure out who the real enemy is or get the fuck out of my bar.¡±


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    The man gaped like a fish, clearly trying to find the words to refute her. Sally patiently waited for him to respond, but the words never came.


    He placed the broken bottle on the bar and shook his head. He looked up at her with a tinge of sadness in his eyes before he simply walked out of the bar.


    Sally sighed watching the ignorant man walk out the door. She knew this was only the beginning of the rising tension. Things would definitely get worse before they improved.


    After the threat was gone, she turned to the lanky kid behind her, but Bruce had already sat him down and given him water.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be able to stand for a few hours,¡± she chuckled at her friend.


    ¡°Somehow your yells always sober me right up,¡± Bruce smirked back.


    Sally smiled, ¡°You got him?¡±


    ¡°For sure, unless you want me to sweep up.¡±


    Sally scoffed, ¡°Yeah, and risk you half-assing it and leaving glass everywhere. No thanks. You stay on babysitting detail.¡±


    Bruce chuckled as she turned to address the rest of the patrons.


    ¡°Sorry about that folks. I¡¯ll say one thing, I refuse to let anyone shank someone in my bar because of where they are from. Sort your shit out or get out. Other than that, free round on the house!¡±


    Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together.


    Sally tidied the bar quickly, her practiced hands making the work efficient and exact. Soon enough, she was back behind the bar getting a round of drinks for the bar.


    The patrons lined up in an orderly fashion and waited their turn. She smirked at their obvious intimidation as it made her job a lot easier. She passed them each their beverages and watched them scurry back to their tables.


    The final customer slid up to the bar in silence.


    ¡°What can I get ya?¡± Sally asked, wiping down the bar as an ingrained habit.


    ¡°Oh, uh. I don¡¯t want anything to drink,¡± the young man said.


    Sally cocked her head, studying him for a moment. He wore a miscellaneous band t-shirt that Sally had never heard of. His glasses were wide framed and took up the majority of his face. He looked fragile and young.


    ¡°What do you want then?¡± she queried, leaning on the bar top.


    ¡°Uh. I¡¯m from Remdia,¡± the young man whispered before glancing around to see if anyone heard him. When he was satisfied that no one was about to attack him he glanced back at Sally. ¡°I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for breaking up that fight and thanks for your words. You¡¯re a good person.¡±


    Sally was stunned into silence for a moment. She¡¯d heard many compliments before, but usually they were attached to a cheap pick-up line. It¡¯d been a while since someone had said something so kind with no ulterior motives.


    ¡°Kid. You¡¯re always safe here. I¡¯ll make sure of it,¡± she said, choosing to ignore the discomforting praise he mentioned.


    ¡°I appreciate it,¡± he nodded. He took a deep breath, a forlorn look gazing back at her. ¡°It¡¯s just that I feel there is very little you¡¯ll be able to do if this invasion does happen.¡± With every word, he seemed more frantic. ¡°As a Remdian, I don¡¯t know what my government is thinking, but I assure you I disagree with them!¡±


    ¡°Hey, hey,¡± Sally reached across the bar and dropped her palm on his shoulder. ¡°Hey. It¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t blame you, and no sane person would either.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the problem, miss. Sanity goes out the window when panic sets in.¡±


    Sally hated that she had no words of wisdom for the young man and she hated how correct he was. She dropped her hand and her head in defeat.


    ¡°Let me at least get you a drink, before the world goes to shit,¡± she tried.


    He sighed, ¡°Just one then. Beer please.¡±


    She prepared his beer, setting it down in front of him with a slight smirk, ¡°Gonna need to see an I.D. though, you look about twelve.¡±


    He smiled a little before reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled a card out and passed it to her.


    Sally studied it for a moment, making sure it was authentic before returning it. ¡°Nice to meet you, Lyle. I¡¯m Sally.¡±


    Just as he was about to respond, a patron in the bar screamed. ¡°A news report just said that Caledornian intelligence thinks Remdia will likely invade in two days time!¡±

 Chapter 6 - Lyle Peterson

    The blood drained from Lyle¡¯s face when he heard the news. Panic had him glancing around the bar assuming everyone would attempt to attack him if they knew his birthplace. They¡¯d never be able to tell from looking at him, as the two countries were known for similar traits. But that didn¡¯t stop the fear that ignited within Lyle.


    People in the bar had begun bashing Remdians and their asinine plan to attack. They started shouting about what they would do if a Remdian soldier were to enter their house. Not one of their brainstormed responses ended in a peaceful solution.


    With sweaty hands, he placed the full glass of beer back on the bar. He glanced up at Sally, her eyes watched the scene unfold with equal parts horror and fury. He could almost see the steam billowing out of her ears as people used her bar to scheme their evil thoughts.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Miss, but I think I should go,¡± Lyle spoke softly.


    Sally snapped her gaze towards him, before calming her emotions enough to address him. ¡°I get that, kid. I¡¯m truly sorry this is what the world has become. Keep yourself safe and know if you¡¯re ever in a bind, I¡¯ll always be here.¡±


    Lyle felt the generosity in her words. A part of him knew that she would protect him with her life, all he had to do was ask. Yet, he¡¯d never do that to her.


    With a final nod, he turned and made his way to the door. He pulled his hoodie up shielding the anguish on his face from the others.


    He stepped outside and felt instantly chilled to the bone by the cold, night winds. A shiver laced its way down his spine as he took in the streets of Caledorn. The buildings still stood tall, the air still felt fresh, the temperature remained typical autumn weather. Nothing had really changed, but at the same time everything was different.


    With the bar at his back, Lyle started the walk to his apartment.


    A smile outlined in sadness etched its way on to his face as he imagined the little home he might have to give up. He had lived in the tiny one-bedroom apartment for a few years, ever since graduating from a Caledornian university. Lyle had made it a home. Regardless of the size and the location, he felt safe within it. Even if its minuscule kitchen forced him to eat out or rely on microwavable meals, he wouldn¡¯t change it for the world.


    To keep himself distracted from the harrowing thoughts, Lyle decided to check his phone. He noticed one new voicemail. He tapped away on the handheld device, eventually putting it to his ear.


    His mother¡¯s voice consumed the silence around him.


    ¡°Hey, hon. This is mom. Well, I suppose you already guessed that. Anyways¡­ Uh¡­ Oh, boy. How do I say this? Your father said I should have written it down and perhaps he was right.¡± A long pause caused Lyle to pull the phone away from his ear, checking to see if it was still connected.


    It was.


    Then, the voice began again, ¡°Well. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard about the possibility of this insane invasion. I honestly have no idea what¡¯s going on. Everyone here is in a panic as well.¡± His mother¡¯s words bled into one another with the speed at which she spoke. Lyle felt nauseous knowing that he hadn¡¯t even considered her own fear in all this. Her fear for him.


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    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Lyle. It¡¯s just a mess. But¡­ We want you to come home. We¡­ we think you¡¯ll be safer here. I know you love it there, but maybe just for a little while? Until all this blows over?¡± There was a pause.¡°Think about it, hon. And call me back soon. Love you.¡±


    A soft click ended the call, followed by an automatic voice stating, ¡°End of voicemails.¡±


    Lyle took a deep breath and considered his options. In terms of fight or flight, he¡¯d always felt more in servitude of flight. He¡¯d never been in a fight and never desired to be in one. He¡¯d been called fragile infinitely more times than tough, but something about running from this made him sad. He didn¡¯t want to leave the Caledornian friends he¡¯d made behind. Yet, he didn¡¯t want to lose his own life either.


    Lyle ducked down through the last alley before he got to his apartment, his mind racing with future troubles.


    When he took note of where he was, he cleared his mind, trying to stay alert. It was always a dreary area that reeked of violence, but it cut about ten minutes out of the commute for him.


    He tried to be inconspicuous as he meandered through the unlit corridor. He kept to the shadows in hope of avoiding anyone seeing him as an easy target.


    About halfway through the alleyway, he heard footsteps in the distance. His heart began to race while his mind tried to soothe him. His pace instinctually increased, the streetlights on the opposite end slowly got closer, too slowly.


    ¡°Oi,¡± a thunderous voice yelled out.


    Lyle bit his lip to avoid screaming out. He kept on the path, ignoring the shout completely. If he had been scared of that alley before, the rising tension of battle only made it that much worse.


    ¡°Oi. Lyle!¡±


    At this, he stopped in his tracks, fear paralyzing him in place.


    He didn¡¯t recognize the voice, yet the person calling out to him clearly knew his name. With such a name as Lyle, coincidence surely wasn¡¯t an option. Lyle¡¯s breath increased as he battled against his own sense of logic.


    ¡°Lyle! You left this at the bar,¡± the voice rang out again, getting closer each time it called out to him. The voice felt like a physical entity wrapping itself around Lyle¡¯s neck and feet, making it impossible to move or call out for aid. He was utterly stuck, begging for the world to swallow him whole.


    ¡°C¡¯mon man! I¡¯m just returning your wallet, least you can do is meet me halfway,¡± the voice boomed through the tiny cavern.


    With no control of his own body, Lyle¡¯s hand moved to his back pocket. A sense of unease filled him upon finding it empty. If this person had his wallet, they¡¯d know he was Remdian. He feared what that would mean for him, especially in such a dark place.


    Choosing to have a little faith in humanity, albeit minuscule, he cautiously turned around to face the voice. He couldn¡¯t make out any discernible features in the darkness, but they appeared to be running towards him.


    Fear blossomed in Lyle¡¯s chest once more as the figure got closer. Seconds from impact, Lyle screwed his eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable assault. The footsteps halted, only panting could be heard. Lyle raised his hands in surrender, his eyes still tightly closed behind his glasses.


    ¡°Yo, man. What are you doing?¡±


    Lyle braved opening one eye a sliver. The person before him looked young, a similar age to Lyle. His eyes held no ill intent, his body was relaxed, not akin to an offensive position.


    ¡°Uh¡­ I thought you were going to fight me,¡± Lyle confessed.


    A chuckle came from the other person, ¡°Nah, man. Salls asked me to run after you and return this.¡± He held up a familiar brown leather wallet. A wallet that Lyle¡¯s father had given to him years prior. The edges were worn and scarred.


    Lyle hesitantly reached for the memento. The random patron released it to him without hesitation.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Lyle breathed out. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°No worries, man. It¡¯s a creepy ass alley. I mean, I avoid it at all costs,¡± the man chuckled. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯m gonna head back now, just doing my good deed for Salls, Lord knows she¡¯s helped me more times than I can count.¡±


    The man turned and started jogging through the alley back towards the bar.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Lyle called out, forcing him to turn back with a skeptical look on his face. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    The man chuckled, ¡°Seth!¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Seth!¡± Lyle called out to the darkness. Seth raised his hand and disappeared into the shadows.


    Lyle too continued on his journey. On the walk, he made up his mind.


    He stepped into his home and instantly started packing up all his belongings.

 Chapter 7 - Seth Carter

    Seth jogged away, ready to get away from the awkward situation he had been in. He felt bad for Lyle, as he seemed absolutely terrified. Seth had never meant to scare him, he just happened to catch up to him in the worst part of the journey.


    He shook his head, deciding that Lyle wasn¡¯t his problem. He was just doing Salls a favor, after all.


    Seth considered returning to the bar, but he knew Sally probably had her hands full. He had left with her screaming at the customers about being ignorant. He assumed it would be much the same if he returned. Not wanting to deal with the drama, and to ignore the battle he¡¯d heard so much about, Seth trotted off in a different direction.


    He moved through the city streets, knowing them like the back of his hand. Seth could paint a detailed map of the city including each pothole and every nook to hide in. As he wove through the gridwork of the city, he couldn¡¯t help but remember his childhood. If he wasn¡¯t busy running away from his father¡¯s iron fist, he was trying to escape the chokehold of his mother¡¯s addiction. Regardless of the reason, he felt at home on the streets. He was happier when he could feel the pavement beneath him.


    Seth kept a smile on his face as he meandered to his next destination. He took in the neon nights, illuminating entire streets with their unnatural colors. He chuckled at the intoxicated people stumbling around, knowing the hangovers that awaited them.


    He found his destination and began rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he jumped up the steps. He entered the abandoned building, tucked away from peering eyes on the main street.


    Once inside, he leapt over massive cracks in the floorboards, he avoided the remnants of ones who¡¯d once squatted there. Seth had one mission in the building, and it involved getting to the top floor.


    An arduous climb through the decrepit structure moved him closer to his final target. Climbing out the window and scurrying across the roof, Seth finally sat down.


    He sat upon the rooftop of a high building nestled in the middle of the city. It was Seth¡¯s favorite place in the world, not that he¡¯d seen a lot the planet had to offer.


    He laid his back upon the deteriorating tiles of the roof. Laying there, he could see hints of stars competing with the obnoxious city lights for prominence of the night. Seth had always loved seeing the natural and industrial worlds merge. Up on the roof, he felt like he was part of both planes of existence. He knew he would forever be rooted to the city while endlessly reaching for the stars.


    A vibration in his front pocket pulled him from his reverie.


    With a sigh, he plucked his phone from his worn jeans, the blinding light caused him to hastily close his eyes.


    He opened one eye ever so slightly and quickly decreased the brightness. When he felt like he could look at the phone without damaging his cornea, he found an email in his notifications.


    As soon as he saw the sender, his heart flipped in his chest. Seth sat up with a start, the broken tiles chipping away with the sudden movement. His shaking hands almost dropped the phone off the roof.


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    He opened the email, his eyes scanning the words at incredulous speed.


    This is to inform SETH CARTER - 7238 that they have been requested for a mandatory physical examination. Upon completion, if declared qualified, SETH CARTER will be enlisted into general military service.


    There were more words flashing within Seth¡¯s vision, but those two sentences were the only ones to truly resonate. Seth gulped, rereading the words.


    ¡°Am I¡­ I¡¯m being fucking drafted?¡± Seth asked the universe.


    Looking at the email once more, he longed to push himself off the roof. He didn¡¯t want to fall downwards though. No, he wanted to fly high into the sky, to soar above the mayhem, above the grind. To leave the petty grievances of those with absurd power far below him. To move away from the fool¡¯s war that unraveled below.


    Yet, that wasn¡¯t an option for the young man. He would be forced to fight.


    Caledorn had never enacted a draft, Seth knew this because he had spent a lot of time researching the military. At one time in his life, he had felt that joining the army was his best option at escaping the hell he¡¯d grown up in.


    He¡¯d spoken to a recruiter and given his contact information. He even formally enrolled, but he never received the callback that his aid was needed, Caledorn had a small army so it was a long shot to begin with. Still, he was devestated at the time.


    That was four years ago. In the years that had passed, Seth found a way to love the life he had. He had found solace in the city itself. He thought his information would have been long lost, but apparently the government held onto it incase the need arose.


    Seth screamed into the heights of the city. His jaw wide, spit catapulting from his mouth with force as each syllable of disdain was released. Disdain for his childhood, disdain for his current predicament. Disdain for lacking the power to change his own fate.


    He stayed in that helpless mindset while the city below began to quiet. The loud bass from the clubs below eventually silenced.


    In the earliest hours of the morning, Seth still stared longingly at the sky.


    Another vibration of his phone broke his trance.


    Seth halfheartedly glanced at the device tightly gripped in his palm, begging for another email to say, ¡°Just kidding.¡±


    However, Seth had never been lucky and that day was no different.


    Auntie Calling, beamed across his phone. Seth muttered expletives under his breath upon seeing the name.


    His aunt had been the woman to save him, though not his biological aunt, she might as well have been. She took him in when his biological family wound up in jail. From fourteen years old, she had been the only mother Seth ever knew. She¡¯d even gotten him in touch with Sally.


    He took a deep breath, reluctantly answering the phone, ¡°Hey, Auntie.¡±


    A woman¡¯s worried voice pierced into Seth¡¯s soul, ¡°Seth, baby. Please tell me you¡¯re okay.¡±


    Seth felt his eyes water at the pain in her words. In that moment, he knew he could never tell her he¡¯d been drafted. She had hated the day he¡¯d gone to a recruiter. He couldn¡¯t break her heart like that.


    ¡°Yeah, Auntie. I¡¯m fine, I¡¯m fine,¡± Seth lied, but he knew it was for the best.


    ¡°Thank god. When I hadn¡¯t heard from you, I was so worried. The government has been saying everything is fine and there¡¯s nothing to worry about. But I can feel the tension all around! I don¡¯t know what to think anymore!¡± Seth¡¯s adoptive aunt reeled through all the information confusing Seth even more.


    Are they lying to her or to me? He thought to himself.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure everything is fine, Auntie. Don¡¯t stress so much, it¡¯ll all be okay,¡± he faked a chuckle. In reality, he wanted to tell her to take his adoptive siblings and flee the country. But what did a little punk from the streets know? That¡¯s right, he didn¡¯t know anything. He felt like a toddler in a man¡¯s world.


    ¡°Oh, Seth. I hope you¡¯re right. Just come over for breakfast. We¡¯ll chat about everything, as a family. Please,¡± she begged him.


    Panic overwhelmed him. He knew she¡¯d never let him fight, even if it wasn¡¯t his choice. He knew she¡¯d try to save him again and wind up arrested or dead for putting her neck on the line. With a painful squeeze of his heart he responded, ¡°I¡¯m sorry Auntie Jane, I¡¯m busy this morning.¡±

 Chapter 8 - Jane Bixby

    Jane hung up the phone with Seth, her chest heavy and her eyes bleary. She had carved a special place in her heart for Seth even though he¡¯d been an independent man for several years. She still felt responsible for him. Jane felt like his mother, though she knew she had little right to that title. Seth had essentially raised himself while she¡¯d merely given him a roof to sleep under.


    She took a deep breath. Her brunette bangs cascaded across her eyes, shielding her face from the prying eyes of her youngest child.


    Without explanation, she stood up and made her way to the restroom.


    Hidden in the small space, she let the tears fall freely. She kept her sobs silent though, hoping to avoid the intrusion of her baby girl.


    Jane considered the government¡¯s newest press release. The president had assured the citizens of Caledorn they were discussing the current situation with the Remdian government.  He¡¯d stood tall and proud as he stated everything was perfectly fine. He told all of Caledorn that there was nothing to fear and to continue life as usual.


    Jane has heard the words and seen his strong pose, yet she wasn¡¯t convinced. In the back of her mind, she felt like fleeing the country with her children, including Seth, and disappearing.


    Her husband, who was much more convinced by the presidential speech, had told her she was worrying over nothing. He¡¯d said that Remdia would never invade. He¡¯d attempted to placate her worries and carried on as if everything was normal, all the while dread ate away at Jane.


    She shook her head, knowing she¡¯d have little luck persuading her stubborn husband not to believe in a government he respected. Choosing to avoid that hurdle, she thought of Seth, reflecting on his tone. Seth had sounded fine on the phone, yet she couldn¡¯t help but feel it was all a fa?ade. She just needed him to be okay. In that moment, she chose to trust him, hoping he¡¯d find her if he was ever in trouble.


    Jane glanced in the mirror. Beyond her brown hair, her face felt like it belonged to a future version of herself. The bags under her eyes spoke of a fifty-year-old who had seen the depths of a dead-end job. The wrinkles on her forehead pointed towards a grandmother who had too many grandkids to contend with. She didn¡¯t recognize the face looking back at her.


    She eventually wiped her eyes, tidied her face and pulled back her hair. She practiced a few smiles, hoping they¡¯d convince her family.


    Upon opening the door, she could hear the cackles of her little one breathing life into the house. She stepped into the kitchen and scanned for the source of jubilation. At the dining room table, her little baby sat on her nanny¡¯s nap.


    Their nanny was tickling the little girl, laughing along with her.


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    Jane froze for a moment, envious of the relationship the two shared. Jane had always been a busy woman, she worked multiple jobs. Hiring a nanny seemed easier than trying to juggle her schedule. But looking upon the love her daughter had for their nanny, she wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d made the right decision.


    When she decided to help Seth, her husband hadn¡¯t yet entered her life. She had gotten the chance to truly spend time with him and watch him become a man she was proud of. She had two children after raising Seth, both of them were under the age of ten. Though her nine-year-old son had already gone to school for the day.


    Jane coughed a little, gaining the attention of her daughter and nanny.


    ¡°Good morning, Mrs. Bixby.¡±


    ¡°Good morning, Jessica,¡± Jane cordially addressed the woman.


    ¡°Should I prepare the little princess breakfast before bringing her to school?¡± Jessica tickled the little girl on her lap as she spoke about her.


    ¡°Actually, no,¡± Jane said, stunning even herself. She collected her thoughts before explaining herself to a wide-eyed Jessica. ¡°I would like to bring her to school this morning.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Alright then, Mrs. Bixby. I¡¯ll get breakfast prepared and pack her a lunch,¡± Jessica smiled at the older woman, seemingly proud of the choice she¡¯d made. Jane was unsure if she should be offended or appreciative of the support.


    Jane sat in the chair next to her daughter, her poise infallible. She watched her daughter wriggle and laugh in the seat and Jane smiled in her direction. She let her back slouch and her worries disappear for a moment as she chose to be present.


    Jane, her daughter and Jessica ate a delicious breakfast together that morning. They laughed and played with the youngest Bixby. Jane felt free for the first time in a long time.


    All too soon, Jessica was tidying the table. Jane got her daughter ready for school and, after an appreciative nod to Jessica, the pair left.


    Jane settled into the car, making sure her daughter was safely inside. She then took off towards the school that her daughter attended.


    ¡°Excited for school today, munchkin?¡±


    ¡°Yes, mommy!¡± the little girl responded.


    ¡°Oh? And why are you so excited?¡± Jane asked genuinely curious.


    ¡°Jerry and Olivia are there! They are my best friends!¡± The little girl glowed as she spoke about her friends.


    ¡°Oh! That¡¯s exciting! You should bring them over to our house some time! I want to meet your friends too!¡±


    ¡°Yay! Thanks, mommy!¡±


    Jane smiled, glancing in the rearview mirror. Her daughter was staring out the window, wearing a smile brighter than the sun.


    The pair pulled up to the school and after a quick kiss goodbye, Jane¡¯s daughter sprinted away, disappearing into the chaos of the other students.


    ¡°Love you, Paige!¡± Jane called after her, but she was already gone. Jane smiled, vowing to spend more time with her family from that day on.


    She jumped in the car, ready to begin her day of work. Without Paige to entertain her, she turned on the radio. The happiness she had felt, blew away in an instant.


    ¡°Remdian and Caledornian peace talks seem to be going poorly as more troops flood to the border.¡±

 Chapter 9 - Paige Bixby

    Paige ran into the school excited to see her friends. She was unaware of the adult troubles that addled her mother. She was simply concerned with where her friends were and what snack would be available that day.


    She galloped through the hallways, her pigtails bouncing behind her. She wove through the crowds without a worry. Her little feet knew those tiled hallways well. She was in second grade after all, so she considered herself a veteran on campus.


    She was dragging air into her tiny lungs when she finally reached her classroom! She skidded to a halt in the doorway, quickly scanning the room. Her eyes landed on her two best friends already laughing together in the corner. Jerry and Olivia, her favorite classmates.


    Paige skipped over to them with a radiant smile. She dove into them as she neared, tackling them both into the wall.


    Her friends recognized her curls instantly and cheered her arrival. The three of them chatted about the simpler things in life. They discussed their prior evening and showed off their animal related t-shirts. Paige¡¯s favorite part of school was the little trio she was a part of.


    They were so busy wrapped up in each other¡¯s lives, the three children never noticed the barely concealed fear and worry plastered to their teacher¡¯s face.


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± their teacher addressed them. Her tone wasn¡¯t the normal lighthearted tone they were used to, but no one took note of it. ¡°Everyone sit down, please. Quickly now.¡±


    Paige plopped into a seat next to her two best friends. They were still giddy and excited for the day, obviously unaware of the world outside their classroom.


    After a few language lessons, their teacher began a math lesson. Paige was ecstatic as she was one of the best in the class when it came to math.


    Their teacher asked, ¡°So, we¡¯ve been working on fractions, can anyone come up and draw a line on this circle to cut it in half?¡± She gestured to the board behind her where eight circles were pre-drawn.


    This was an easy one for Paige, she knew she could do it. Paige thrust her hand in the air. She raised herself off the chair, essentially standing as she begged her teacher to pick on her.


    ¡°Alright, Lily. Can you try please?¡± their teacher spoke.


    Paige deflated in her seat. She felt disappointment surge through her as she realized she hadn¡¯t been chosen to answer the question.


    She watched intently as Lily, another classmate, quietly walked to the board and grabbed a piece of chalk. She seemed scared and Paige couldn¡¯t understand why. It was one line, surely everyone would understand how to do that. Paige watched her, preparing her little arm to soar in the sky once more, if Lily somehow got it wrong.


    Before Lily could raise the chalk, an alarm started blaring in the school.


    It startled all the students in the classroom, some of them tearing up in confusion, others screamed in fear. Paige jumped out of her seat and glanced around. They had had fire drills previously, but there was nothing like this before. This alarm sounded different.


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    ¡°Hello, students! This is your principal speaking. This is not a drill. Everyone is to report to the cafeteria immediately. Your parents will be here shortly to pick you up.¡±


    ¡°Okay! You heard the principal. We don¡¯t need to panic, we need to line up and go to the cafeteria.¡± Their teacher once more tried to hold her calm fa?ade above the fear, but Paige noticed something new. Paige saw the sweat accumulating on her forehead.


    The students lined up in the classroom. The alarm resumed blaring after their principal had spoken. Many of the students were sobbing in fear, others were trying to hide behind their teacher.


    Paige, however, walked to the board and grabbed a piece of chalk. She drew one line down the center of the circle, cutting it in half. She spun around to look at her class, proud of what she¡¯d done. But, no one was looking at her. No one cared. Not even her two best friends.


    A tear started to accumulate in Paige¡¯s eye. She assumed that there would be cake awaiting them in the cafeteria, she didn¡¯t know why everyone was in such a panic. Sure, the alarms hurt her ears, but was that enough reason to cry? She didn¡¯t think so. However, all her friends ignoring her and her successful ability at halving the circle, that was reason to cry.


    Before long, she stood in an empty classroom. Her tears threatened to fall while she glanced around the room. It remained a shell of the happiness she felt mere moments ago.


    ¡°Paige!¡±


    Paige snapped her eyes towards the voice calling her. She saw one of her best friends, Jerry. His eyes were panic stricken, fear evident in his actions as he fiddled with his fingers and bounced on the balls of his feet.


    ¡°Paige, let¡¯s go!¡± he yelled out to her.


    ¡°Jerry, why are you so scared?¡± Paige asked, a bit of worry seeping into her voice. She didn¡¯t understand his fear. Everything was fine.


    ¡°I overheard my mum and dad talking. They said there¡¯s gonna be a war.  What if this is about the war?¡± Jerry whispered, glancing around at his classmates who were filing out of the classroom.


    ¡°War? Where?¡± Paige asked, utterly confused.


    ¡°Here!¡± Jerry screeched, gaining the attention of all his peers. His face blossomed out in pink and he ducked his head to hide it.


    ¡°W-What?¡± Paige asked, slowly starting to get scared herself.


    Jerry sighed, grasping her hand and pulled her to the back of their class line. They met up with their other friend, Olivia there. Olivia was crying into her hands, repeating one sentence over and over. ¡°I want my mommy!¡±


    Paige looked at Jerry, ¡°What¡¯s wrong with her?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. Maybe she¡¯s just scared too?¡± Jerry asked, making it very clear he had no idea, but his face was riddled with concern.


    ¡°I- is this war, real?¡± Paige whispered. She¡¯d heard of war, but she didn¡¯t understand what it truly meant. She was still confused as to how it impacted her life.


    ¡°I dunno,¡± Jerry shrugged, still wringing his hands together.


    ¡°Do you know what war is?¡± Paige asked, accepting math was her area of expertise, and she had barely passed history.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s like the video games my brother plays,¡± Jerry started. ¡°There¡¯s guns, a lot of blood too. Mum doesn¡¯t like me to play them, but I¡¯ve seen Jason play heaps. It¡¯s scary.¡±


    ¡°Guns?¡± Paige¡¯s face paled. ¡°Are people going to die?¡±


    ¡°I dunno.¡± Jerry whispered. ¡°I hope not. Dying seems scary.¡±


    Paige shivered, suddenly much more scared of the alarms blaring in the hallway. She finally understood her peers¡¯ tears. She struggled to keep her own at bay as she imagined a video game coming to life around her. She had seen her oldest brother, Seth, play a few too. They were always terrifying to her. Those games were loud too, like the alarms around her.


    After navigating the hysteria with her class, Paige and her class found themselves in the cafeteria.


    ¡°Alright children. Find a seat over here, your parents will be here shortly,¡± their principal bellowed above the alarms, screams and sobs.


    ¡°Mr. Goldson is tough, he¡¯ll protect us? Right?¡± Paige commented, staring at the man addressing her.

 Chapter 10 - Keith Goldson

    Keith Goldson looked over the panic and fear present in the eyes of all his students. His heart bled for the confusion they must have felt, especially the younger grades. Yet, there was very little he could do for them.


    He was mandated by the board of education to sound the alarms and preside over the process at his school, the Sandy Fields Primary School. He had hated the idea of ringing the alarms and terrifying everyone on campus but, he was told it was protocol.


    Apparently, in circumstances of invasion, which he hadn¡¯t even realized was written into the protocols, getting the children to the safest room in the school and then reunited with their families was the main priority.


    The cafeteria was a massive room with little natural lighting. The walls were high raised and solid concrete. There was a dome ceiling in which various sky-light windows were scattered throughout. Keith used to hate the room and its morbid layout, though he had to admit it felt safe.


    The board of education had taken on the role of contacting the parents through a public service announcement released to all news and radio stations. If this had been a terrorist attack, the school would have locked down and no students would be allowed to leave. As it were, however, the administration thought they still had time to reunite students with their families. It was a risk they were willing to take, clearly.


    Keith meandered around the room trying to check in with all the teachers. Headcounts were done and redone multiple times in his presence. Luckily, with every class, all students were accounted for. He tried to calm his staff by providing hollow words of wisdom. They all asked questions in hushed tones. Regrettably, he didn¡¯t have much to update them with, he too was in the dark about the current situation.


    Soon enough, parents started lining up asking for their children.


    Keith could see their concern and fear as they stood in an orderly line. He was honestly surprised by the lack of panic, but he understood too. The more panicked they became, the harder this whole situation would become.


    With a deep breath he stepped up to the front lines, aiding the staff that were retrieving kids from the cafeteria.


    ¡°Paige Bixby!¡± the woman before him screamed.


    Keith nodded, ¡°What grade?¡±


    ¡°S-second,¡± the woman breathily responded. She looked as though she was going to pass out at any minute.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± Keith began, ¡°I assure you, she¡¯s okay. I¡¯ll go grab her then you can be with your family in this trying time.¡±


    The woman looked up at him with glossy eyes, ¡°Th-thank you.¡±


    Keith waited for her to continue, but instead she steeled her spine and quickly wiped her tears.


    He nodded at her, knowing all too well the front parents must put on to protect their children. Leaving her in a more stable condition, Keith departed to retrieve her daughter.


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    Keith approached the second-grade classes, full of crying kids and unsettled adults. ¡°Paige Bixby?¡± he called out to the group.


    ¡°She¡¯s over here,¡± one of the school¡¯s younger teachers responded.


    Keith stepped up to the class and followed the gesture of their teacher. His eyes settled on a little brunette girl, silently looking around. He couldn¡¯t tell if she didn¡¯t understand or if she was simply distracting herself.


    He squatted down to her level, ¡°Paige?¡±


    Her gaze snapped up towards him, ¡°Yes, Mr. Goldson?¡±


    ¡°Hey kiddo, your mom is here to pick you up,¡± he spoke in a delicate tone, trying to comfort rather than stress the young girl.


    ¡°Oh. Okay. Thank you,¡± she spoke and quickly brushed herself off.


    Keith couldn¡¯t help but see his own daughter in Paige. She had once been a strong independent girl too. Now, she was even more independent with kids of her own, surrounded by a beautiful family she¡¯d built. Keith couldn¡¯t stop the pride that swelled up inside him as he thought of his little girl. He also couldn¡¯t quell the fear for her with the threat of battle looming over their country.


    Quickly, he closed that part of his mind from spiraling and focused on his current mission. He glanced back towards Paige only to find the place she¡¯d once occupied empty. He scanned the room and found her trotting out of the cafeteria by herself.


    He refrained from chuckling, his admiration for this strong child evident, and hastily followed her to the main door.


    Paige leapt into her mother¡¯s arms and quizzically asked, ¡°Mommy, are we in a war?¡±


    Her mother¡¯s smile slipped for a moment before she recovered enough to respond. ¡°I truly don¡¯t know, Paige. But we will chat about it all with your father tonight, okay?¡±


    Paige nodded, accepting this answer and wrapped her little arms around her mother.


    Keith watched on, the reality of the situation settling deep into his soul. He didn¡¯t know what would come of these children, but he prayed each and every one of them would survive.


    Only two hours or so had passed before the cafeteria was emptied. Keith walked through the halls of the desolate school. He checked all the rooms, called out to any potential stragglers, and locked every door behind him. When he was satisfied the entire building was empty, he found his way to his office.


    He sat upon the red stained leather chair and dropped his head into his hands.


    He considered calling his daughter, or his wife, but he felt a moment of weakness. A moment of knowing he couldn¡¯t help them, regardless of how badly he wanted to. He decided he needed to understand more about the situation before checking in. He needed to know the threat that was encroaching on him and his family.


    He grabbed his cellphone and scanned a few news sites before he settled on one. With a tap, the small screen was encompassed by a video.


    ¡°It is with great remorse we share that the Remdians have begun their invasion.¡±


    Keith¡¯s face blanched at that single sentence.


    ¡°Not three hours ago, their soldiers on the border began their march onto Caledorn soil.¡±


    Keith stood up with terror pulsing through his veins. The fear swallowed him whole as he scoured his office for any important keepsakes.


    Moving with recklessness, he placed photos and various paperwork in his briefcase. Shoving everything in the bag with no concern for crinkles or tears.


    In the background the video continued. ¡°This has been Bethany Squire with Channel Seven News, please stay tuned for more updates as the situation develops.¡±


    When he was convinced that he had everything of value, he swiped his phone off his desk and frantically typed his wife¡¯s number.


    He sprinted out the door, the phone still ringing against his ear.

 Chapter 11 - Bethany Squire

    Bethany glanced at the cameraman filming her, her posture immaculate and her face poised to perfection. He nodded at her, signaling a completion of the current segment.


    Bethany instantly slumped back into the chair she was sitting in. The pant suit she wore suddenly felt suffocating as she mulled over her most recent report.


    ¡°Was that real?¡± she quietly questioned the broadcaster next to her.


    When silence greeted her question, she glanced up at him through her lashes. Her co-worker¡¯s face was buried in his hands, his fingers wound deep into the tendrils of his hair.


    She sat up and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. ¡°Jim, you okay?¡±


    ¡°No, Beth, I¡¯m not,¡± he sighed. ¡°How can any of us pretend to be okay? Our country is being invaded and here we are. Sat in a fucking room just talking about it.¡±


    ¡°What would you rather be doing? It¡¯s not like we can do much more than this.¡± She queried, confused by his response.


    ¡°I want to take my family and get the hell out of here before the threat becomes that much more dangerous,¡± Jim spat harshly.


    He finally raised his eyes to look at Bethany. She was stunned to silence for a moment, the usually bright and cheerful eyes she knew Jim for were replaced by a somber pair of pupils.


    ¡°Then go,¡± she said with clarity.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked, surprised.


    ¡°You have a family, Jim. I don¡¯t. I can run the update on this report alone. I¡¯ll cover for you when the higher ups ask. Get out of here and keep your family safe.¡±


    Jim gawked at her for a moment, studying her face for any regret or hesitation though he found none.


    He stood from the news desk slowly.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±  he checked.


    Bethany simply nodded once.


    Not needing to be told again, Jim stumbled over the leg of his wheely chair as he took off towards their changing rooms.


    Bethany watched him race through the studio and out the door in record time. For the first time since her career blossomed, she felt a pang of regret. Not for telling Jim to go, but for having no one she could flee to and no reason to run.


    She had focused so much on becoming a newscaster, she never made time for love or a family. While every other day, she felt fulfilled, something about the current situation made her long for a person to comfort her.


    She was utterly alone.


    Bethany muttered a curse under her breath suddenly remembering a conversation with a friend the previous week. She realized her friend¡¯s words had some truth to them after all. What if you wake up one day and realize you have one week left to live? Will your job matter then?


    At the time, Bethany had just laughed off the comment as being overly dramatic. But, sitting in a room having just told the nation they were actively being invaded, she wondered if her friend was a psychic.


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    She took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that this whole situation would be over before she had time to properly fear for her life. Surely, the Caledornian army would intercept the Remdian soldiers before there was any death or injury. Bethany hoped so.


    ¡°Beth!¡±


    She looked towards the sound of her name only to see the studio boss marching her way, a flustered pink hue coloring his face.


    ¡°Yes, Mr. Hugh?¡± she asked innocently, though she imagined he was about to ask about Jim¡¯s disappearance.


    ¡°Where is Jim?¡± he demanded. ¡°You¡¯re live again in ten minutes!¡±


    ¡°Oh? So soon?¡± Bethany asked, ignoring the previous inquiry about Jim. She partially hoped to steer the conversation away from her co-worker, but mostly she hadn¡¯t expected to go back on film for another hour. Knowing she¡¯d be doing another report so soon filled her with dread as she imagined the situation had already escalated.


    ¡°Yes. Ten minutes. We¡¯ve got someone on scene filming the invasion,¡± her boss casually responded.


    There was almost a hint of excitement in his tone which made Bethany wince.


    ¡°Is that safe?¡±


    Mr. Hugh scoffed, ¡°Of course it is, this whole invasion is just a scare tactic.¡±


    Bethany didn¡¯t respond, she clenched her jaw instead, choosing not to pick a fight with her ignorant boss. Inwardly though, she screamed at his lack of compassion in such a trying time.


    ¡°Anyways, where the hell is Jim?¡± her boss asked.


    She cleared her throat and looked him dead in the eye. ¡°He left,¡± the words were said with a sense of pride she hadn¡¯t realized she felt until that moment.


    ¡°W-What? Wh¡ª¡± Mr. Hugh began pacing in two step increments, agitation seeping in. He glanced back at Bethany. ¡°Why would he leave?¡±


    She raised a brow at him, disliking the tone he had taken with her. She took a deep breath to regain her composure before she responded, ¡°He was feeling ill and wanted to be with his family in the wake of everything developing. I can cover the story.¡±


    Bethany felt the heat coming off her boss as he glared at her, ¡°I don¡¯t care if you can cover the story, he has a damn responsibility.¡±


    Breaking tradition, Bethany was fed up enough to finally speak her mind to her boss. With a voice loud enough for the whole studio to hear she said, ¡°Does he not have a responsibility to his family as well? Come to think of it, why are you here? Shouldn¡¯t your family be a priority?¡±


    Mr. Hugh stared at her, stunned by her interrogation and tone. The anger on his face only increased, metaphorical steam billowing from between his gritted teeth.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he ground out through clenched teeth. ¡°Just cover the story.¡±


    ¡°I was going to anyway,¡± Bethany spoke, holding back a roll of her eyes.


    Her boss¡¯s knuckles turned white as his fingers curled in on themselves. Bethany might have feared him lashing out and hitting her, but a figure walking towards them quelled that thought. He wouldn¡¯t do anything to taint his public image, she knew that.


    ¡°Beth, you¡¯re on in five,¡± her manager announced, completely ignoring their boss. ¡°We¡¯ve got a team live on the scene. So far, it¡¯s been soldiers invading, armed but not hostile as of yet. We¡¯re hoping it stays that way but be prepared for things to potentially turn sour.¡±


    Bethany watched her boss walk away in a huff before turning back to her manager. ¡°Thanks for breaking that up.¡±


    Her manager nodded and laid a script on the table for her to use, then walked off towards the camera crew.


    Bethany scanned through the script. The first segment was an update, she speedily read through it searching for one data point. Her heartbeat settled down a bit when she saw the death toll was still zero. Feeling calmer, she read through the rest of the script.


    All too soon, she was given a five second countdown.


    The cameraman pointed to her, indicating she was on air. She greeted the population with her usual introduction and rattled off the updates she had received.


    ¡°Now, over to Gregory Brine who is live on the scene with more updates,¡± Bethany spoke with ease.


    The camera panned over to a news reporter she knew well and dozens of enemy soldiers marching in the distance behind him.

 Chapter 12 - Gregory Brine

    Gregory¡¯s palms were sweaty as he held the microphone in his hand. He had never addressed their viewers with something so real and terrifying before, though that hadn¡¯t stopped him from offering to report from the scene.


    He had been on the Remdian border reporting about a new plant species they had discovered when the invasion took place. He felt reporting live from the scene had the chance to either make his career or provide aid to Caledornians struggling to understand the magnitude of the invasion. So, he called the studio and offered to cover the invasion live.


    Gregory and his crew had set up some distance away from the action, barricaded behind a cement fence, should things escalate. They could see the whole street, but they had cover, or so Gregory hoped.


    ¡°H-hello, everyone,¡± he started weakly, a slight tremble in his voice as the soldier¡¯s footsteps echoed in the distance. Most local Caledornian¡¯s had long since fled the streets, opting to stay inside or flee. A few brave souls lingered outside, curiosity getting the better of them. Gregory was one of them, still consumed by the idea that this would end before it began.


    Gregory took a deep breath, calming his nerves before speaking again. ¡°It is with great sorrow I deliver this news. Remdia is invading, though they seem to be peaceful as of now. No gunshots or offensive actions have been heard or seen. As of now they are simply marching. To where, we have yet to determine.¡±


    He stepped out of the frame of the camera. His cameraman zoomed in on the marching soldiers, armed and holding their weapons high. Each man and woman wore a dark red uniform, uncannily reminiscent of blood.


    Gregory watched the scene, confused as to why Caledorn wasn¡¯t defending itself. His government hadn¡¯t sent the troops to stop them, nor to greet them at the border. From his perspective, Caledorn was laying down the gauntlet and letting Remdia take control.


    ¡°As of yet, we don¡¯t know what action Caledorn is planning in retaliation, nor if there will be any retaliation. We¡¯re reporting live and as you can see, Remdia is invading and meeting no resistance as of yet.¡±


    As Gregory spoke the final words, he looked back at his cameraman. He lifted an eyebrow as if asking what else he should say. The young man behind the camera shrugged at him. Gregory sighed, almost disappointed by the lack of information he had to give.


    They were filming people walking, it hardly seemed like something worthy of reporting on. Gregory watched them for a moment, hoping something would happen.


    A loud bang forced Gregory to suddenly feel the ignorance of his own thoughts.


    The first gun shot rang through that quiet street of Caledorn.


    Gregory¡¯s eyes snapped towards the sound of the horrific sound, the hairs on his body instantly erect as he perceived a threat.


    The soldiers stopped their march. They stood in eerie rows, unmoving. The brave Caledorn lurkers took cover behind any wall that stood close to them.


    Still off camera, Gregory whispered into his microphone, ¡°We¡¯ve just heard a gunshot. We have no idea who shot the firearm, nor if anyone was injured. All we can see from this angle is the troops have stopped moving.¡±


    He instinctually ducked further behind the cement wall he had been standing behind. With just his head poking out, he realized he wasn¡¯t as scared as he thought he¡¯d be. He was brave enough to cover a wartime event, live nonetheless. He¡¯d once considered joining the military like his father but had decided he didn¡¯t have the stomach for it. He instead followed a path of media and filming, not death. Whatever compelled him to venture to that harrowing street showed him that his father had rubbed off on him more than he was aware.


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    There, he stood, well, crouched in a potentially deadly situation proud to be the one to deliver this manic news. The only regret he had was never asking his beautiful blonde neighbor on a date.


    Making up his mind, he spun towards the terrified cameraman. Gesturing with his hand, his finger spinning in circles, he mouthed, ¡°Keep rolling.¡±


    The cameraman hesitated, shocked by the gunshot and confused by Gregory.


    ¡°Caledorn needs to see this,¡± Gregory mouthed. ¡°This war is real.¡±


    Just as the cameraman raised his hand to zoom in on the scene, another gun shot rang out from the silence.


    Gregory once again glanced down the street, instantly wishing he hadn¡¯t.


    Someone clutching their abdomen fell in the street, a Remdian soldier, who had broken formation to step forward ten paces, stood over them.


    A singular moment of silence engulfed the scene, everyone too stunned to react.


    Then, the screams began. Screams from onlookers from the street. Screams from residents in their houses. Screams from every direction filled the once quiet area with a tangible fear.


    Gregory saw the scene unfold in his peripherals, but his eyes were still locked on that fallen body, somehow too engrossed to look away.


    People fled from their homes, racing panickedly to their vehicles. Others sprinted from the scene, finally realizing the threat upon them.


    ¡°Greg!¡±


    Gregory was violently pushed from his trance as his cameraman shoved him to the ground.


    ¡°Greg! We need to fucking leave! Now!¡±


    He nodded numbly in response, unable to form a sentence. The vision of a human body lying in the street burned still at the forefront of his mind.


    Every time he blinked, he saw it again.


    His mind raced with questions as the chaos unraveled around him. Who was it? Who was the first victim? Was it a male or a female? Were they still alive?


    He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the journalist in him seeking answers or his military upbringing telling him to never leave someone behind, but Gregory stood. He stood and began walking towards the army. His feet moved on their own accord, for his brain knew that it was a horrible choice that would almost certainly result in his own death. Yet, he continued moving towards the person laying in the street. Obsessed with the mysterious person he had seen fall.


    ¡°Greg!¡± he heard someone scream from behind him.


    He responded by pushing further into the fray. Men, women and children shoved him as he moved upstream against the panicked crowds.


    He picked up his pace, sprinting towards a wall of enemy soldiers. The closer he got, the thinner the crowd he had to contend with got. The Remdian soldiers in the closing distance still stood perfectly still, the shooter long since fallen back into their line. They didn¡¯t shoot, they didn¡¯t flinch, they merely watched as everyone fled.


    Gregory made it to the fallen victim, though he wasn¡¯t the first person at the scene.


    A young woman knelt over the body, sobbing. Her hands and sleeves were stained in red where she had her hands on the abdomen of the person. Her head dropped low as she wailed.


    Gregory skidded to a halt, glancing over the situation. A young man, barely twenty in appearance, was shot in the stomach. He bent down and grasped the man¡¯s neck with two fingers, begging to feel a pulse. There was none.


    He glanced up as a thunderous clap boomed against the pavement. The soldiers began their march once more. Their footsteps slapping upon the road in perfect unison. They were moving closer.


    Gregory looked at the boy, knowing he had already passed away. Then he glanced at the young woman crying, still very much alive.


    ¡°Jessie!¡± Gregory heard in the near distance. He glanced up to see an older couple waving manically at him, or more likely at the woman he was next to.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Gregory mumbled to himself glancing back up at the nearing soldiers.

 Chapter 13 - Jessie Mallik

    Jessie continued to cry over her boyfriend¡¯s body. She never heard the scream of her name, nor the impending footsteps of enemy soldiers. She could only focus on Dion, her boyfriend.


    She had begged him not to go out into the street, but he did anyway. She¡¯d always loved his curiosity and stubbornness though, on that day, it was what she loved that had gotten him killed.


    She had stayed in her parents¡¯ house, where they had both been visiting when the soldiers began their invasion. She had watched intently through the window as he approached the soldiers. His hands had been raised to show no ill intent. Jessie¡¯s eyes had remained so focused on Dion, she almost missed the soldier stepping out of formation to raise their weapon at him.


    Jessie¡¯s father had muffled her screams in his chest when the blast rang out. He held her in his arms and tried to shield her from the atrocity that just occurred.


    She fought against his hold and managed to get out of the house, all the while her parents were screaming for her to stay.


    She had sprinted to the street to be with Dion. In her mind, if she was going to die, she wanted to be with him.


    He was already dead when she arrived, a small part of her knew that. But that didn¡¯t stop her from attempting to stop the bleeding or begging him to wake up.


    She hadn¡¯t noticed when Gregory rushed to the scene, nor when he checked Dion¡¯s pulse.


    Suddenly, she felt an iron grip on her jaw as her head was lifted. She thought she was about to be shot too and winced away from the grasp. The mysterious hand didn¡¯t let go of her, it merely held on tighter.


    ¡°My name is Gregory. I¡¯m Caledornian. If you don¡¯t come with me now¡­¡± he trailed off as he glanced towards the soldiers.


    Jessie didn¡¯t follow his glance. She was still unaware of the impending closeness of the soldiers.


    Jessie stared at him, tears still streaming down her face. She didn¡¯t understand the words he had said. It felt like she was drowning. The world around her was muffled and blurry, the only thing she knew with any certainty was that her hands were sticky.


    She watched as the man sighed. He moved towards her and she was too numb to respond. In an instant, she was scooped up and thrown over his shoulder.


    Looking down, she saw Dion and she knew couldn¡¯t leave him. She kicked and punched the man holding her, attempting to claw her way back to Dion.


    Her valiant efforts to be released were for nothing though. The grip on her tightened instead of releasing or loosening but she continued to fight as Dion¡¯s body got further away.


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    Her body was suddenly tossed. She landed against a plush fabric, but her head hit a hard surface. She took a quick glance around and realized she was in her parents'' car.


    The man who had picked her up sat next to her, slamming the door shut with haste.


    ¡°Drive!¡± he yelled at her parents.


    Her father immediately slammed his foot on the gas, setting the car in motion.


    Jessie panicked and went to open the door that would lead her back to Dion. When she pulled the handle, nothing happened. The door remained shut.


    ¡°Sorry, kiddo. Child lock,¡± her father told her in a morose tone.


    Jessie¡¯s panic only grew as she tried to open the door. Again. And again.


    With fresh tears staining her face, she spun around and looked out the rear window. She hoped to see Dion one last time, but instead all she saw was a sea of red soldiers.


    Jessie gasped. She had no idea they were so close, nor that they had continued marching.


    The sudden realization that if she had stayed with Dion, she¡¯d have been dead hit her like a ton of bricks. Her chest heaved and her head started to throb.


    She had to leave behind the only person she¡¯d ever loved. But, she almost lost her own life in a moment of desperation. Jessie¡¯s heart raced at an unsustainable rhythm. She felt lightheaded as the armed soldiers continued to march.


    A gentle hand laid upon her shoulder.


    She looked up to see her mother¡¯s bloodshot eyes gazing back at her. Seeing her familiar face, Jessie started to normalize her breathing. She tried to calm down, but her thoughts still ricocheted around her skull.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, love. So so sorry,¡± the older woman choked on her words, releasing a sob.


    ¡°D-Dion,¡± was all Jessie could say.


    ¡°I know, kiddo. I know. We¡¯ll keep you safe now,¡± her father spoke up.


    ¡°Wha-what do we do now?¡± she quietly asked, shocked by the shift her day had taken.


    ¡°Get the fuck out of the country,¡± a deep voice said beside her.


    Jessie¡¯s eyes jumped to the man next to her. She had forgotten he was in the car. She had almost forgotten who he was at all, but she remembered the fight she had put up while he attempted to save her life.


    ¡°And go where exactly?¡± her father queried the stranger. ¡°We have no money and no family outside Caledorn.¡± With every word his voice strained more.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Jessie started, ignoring her father¡¯s stress. ¡°Th-thank you.¡±


    The man looked at her, the stress and concern evident in every crease upon his face. He sighed before responding, ¡°I know you probably hate me for what I did, but I panicked. I¡¯m sorry.¡± He hung his head lower when he apologized.


    Jessie didn¡¯t respond because a part of her did hate him. A part of her would never forgive him for forcing her away from Dion. But, another part of her respected him for saving her life.


    ¡°Jesus, John! What¡¯s that?¡± Jessie¡¯s mother squealed, pointing to the road up ahead.


    Jessie glanced through the window to see a massive barricade with tanks and soldiers up ahead. She panicked, assuming they¡¯d be trapped on the street with the enemy flanking both sides.


    ¡°¡¯Bout time Caledorn got their act together and started defending itself,¡± the man muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Wh-what?¡± Jessie asked.


    ¡°The uniforms. They¡¯re blue, not red. Caledorn army,¡± he responded while pointing at a group of soldiers.


    Jessie felt the tension leave her shoulders as she sagged back into the streets. She felt safe for a moment. Relieved, she turned to nestle into Dion. She stopped short, realizing she could never find comfort in him again. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes.


    Her family car approached the barricade. A soldier waved them to a halt.


    ¡°Evening sir, I¡¯m Corporal Brady Young. Please make your way through the barricade and evacuate the area immediately,¡± the man spoke in a calm manner as if he wasn¡¯t fazed by the war at all.


    Jessie found herself glaring at him as they drove by and through the barricade. She was angry that he seemed so much more prepared than she could have ever dreamed of being.

 Chapter 14 - Corporal Brady Young

    Brady Young watched as the family drove away. He wasn¡¯t sure what they had witnessed, but if their horrified faces were an indicator, it wasn¡¯t anything pleasant.


    Born on a base and raised by two high ranking military officials, Brady knew no other life. This life was chosen for him, but he slotted himself into it seamlessly. He took pride in protecting the country that had awarded him freedom. He took pride in putting his work above all other facets of his life. He was a dedicated soldier, and he was willing to die that way.


    He sighed, knowing this was long from being over. He had hated that his generals hadn¡¯t sent troops in earlier and stopped this catastrophe before it began, but he was promised that the politicians were ¡°fixing the problem.¡±


    Brady watched as the last car shrank on the horizon. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly what awaited him ahead, but luckily the news reporter on scene had given them all valuable information.


    ¡°Alright team,¡± he addressed the young men and women before him. ¡°We¡¯re going in fairly blind here, but we¡¯ve got basic commands. Do not let them pass this barricade and apprehend as many of them as possible. Alive. Do I make myself understood?¡±


    A chorus of, ¡°Sir, yes, sir,¡± followed his question.


    Brady looked at each of the grunts he¡¯d trained and worked beside for a year. ¡°We¡¯ve got this.¡±


    The group looked into his eyes, searching for a solution. A solution to the hell they¡¯d suddenly found themselves in. The answer to their questions was simple: fight.


    Brady knew how they felt, hell, he felt the same. He¡¯d only ever been deployed once and the battle he encountered had minimal bloodshed and even less injury. It was over before it began.


    Now, his country was being invaded. The enemy was walking into his house and expecting to start a fight with no repercussions. He wasn¡¯t about to let that happen. He¡¯d fight for the freedom and lives of every man, woman and child in Caledorn.


    ¡°Alright. Alpha team with me. Beta, take up the rear.¡± With those simple instructions, the twenty-man team got into position and followed Brady through the empty street.


    They took slow steps, every angle was covered with the gaze of well-trained eyes. They wouldn¡¯t be taken off guard.


    A crackling in his ear caused him to raise his hand, stopping his group immediately.


    From an ear piece he heard, ¡°Corporal Young. The enemy was last seen approximately seven blocks from your current position. Your initial orders of taking the Reds alive has changed. You have the clear to kill them all. Over.¡±


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    Brady took a moment to swallow the words he¡¯d heard, they left a distinct taste of bile in their wake.


    ¡°Sir, yes, sir. Over,¡± the words left his mouth with the same conviction he had always said them. If he was ordered to kill, then kill he would.


    He didn¡¯t turn towards his team when he spoke with clarity. ¡°Orders changed. Kill on sight. They are about five blocks out, so keep the chatter to a minimum.¡±


    Out of his peripherals, Brady saw the few in his eyeline nod their understanding. He took that as an understanding from them all and continued his mission.


    Through the silent walk, Brady took note of the empty buildings and alleys sprawled out before them. He was thankful the residents had decided to heed the warning and flee. He didn¡¯t like the idea of having to protect anyone else, nineteen was enough.


    As his crew crested a slight hill on the street, he saw the sea of red accumulated in the distance.


    Brady pointed to one notable feature that stuck out on the street, a stuffed animal left behind. The pink elephant looked new and untouched, only slightly marred where it landed in the street. Brady gestured to the item and whispered to his crew, ¡°When the line gets there, we fire.¡±


    Everyone nodded, understanding his direction without further explanation. They were setting up an ambush for the Remdian army to fall into.


    Using simple hand signals, Brady directed his beta team to higher vantage points while the rest of them wove between buildings and stayed out of sight. They spread out around that one pink elephant, whose synthetic fur would soon be soaked in blood.


    Brady and his team set-up in various apartments, hiding behind curtains and other household items. They tucked themselves into small areas, barely visible. They also took the time they had to plan their own exits, for as they all knew, as soon as they shot their first bullet the Remdian army would know their position.


    Brady slipped into a dark alley ahead of the rest of his team, closer to the incoming army. He deemed it a suitable position to attack anyone who tried to flee.


    He searched the alley for anything useful to take cover behind. Luckily there was a large dumpster in the middle of it. It rested about two inches off the ground on wheels. Brady clicked the safety on his gun and clipped the firearm to his back. He pushed the dumpster closer to the entryway.


    Once satisfied, he found a window nearby that would act as a quick getaway if he needed. Conveniently the window was unlocked so as he pried it open, it gave way with ease.


    Having spent too much time setting up his nook, he quickly tucked himself behind the dumpster, pulled his gun back into his hands and got into firing position. He lined up his weapon to fire directly into the street, where the Remdian soldiers would be walking unaware.


    When he was satisfied he took a deep breath. And waited.


    In the silence of the street, he could hear the marching of his enemy getting closer.


    Seconds passed like hours as he waited for them to enter his line of fire.


    The unified steps matched the rhythm of Brady¡¯s heart as it thumped away to the hostile beat.


    Finally, dark red uniforms overcame the street.


    He readied his finger on the trigger.


    He couldn¡¯t see the elephant from where he was but as soon as the first shot was fired, he¡¯d reciprocate with reckless abandon.


    Another crackle in his ear pulled his concentration for a moment.


    ¡°Five¡­ four¡­¡± the feminine voice of one of his team rang through his ears.


    Callie, you better be hidden you damn fool. Brady thought through the countdown, knowing she was risking her position to update the team.


    ¡°Three¡­ two¡­¡±


    Another part of Brady was damn proud. They¡¯d rain hell down on them at the same time now.


    ¡°One¡­¡±

 Chapter 15 - Callie Merth

    Callie stared at the pink stuffed animal in the middle of the street. She¡¯d hidden in an apartment directly in front of it. She was on the fifth floor, peering down at the ambush site.


    She wanted the vantage point of seeing exactly when the Remdian soldiers stepped into their trap. She also knew Brady would be livid that she was speaking in a time of silence, but they needed this attack to be coordinated and efficient. Knowing the numbers were her twenty to their one hundred, Callie wanted every advantage she could get.


    Slowly but surely, the red uniforms descended upon the stuffed animal.


    Callie¡¯s countdown began.


    ¡°Five,¡± she whispered. ¡°Four.¡±


    ¡°Three,¡± she spoke as she positioned her gun and took aim.


    ¡°Two,¡± her voice low, and her trigger finger ready.


    ¡°One.¡± She took a deep breath, aiming for the poor sap leading the march.


    ¡°Now,¡± she exhaled, finally pulling the trigger.


    A cacophony of gunshots rang through the street. Her entire team of twenty took to spraying bullets on the Remdian army.


    Body after body hit the ground before they could even react. Callie watched as one soldier lifted his gun to shoot back. She shifted her aim and shot him between the eyes.


    She felt no remorse watching their body fall to the pavement. She was doing her job and protecting her home. At least that¡¯s what she told herself as she watched the soldiers fall one by one.


    A few had started to run for cover, Callie hoped they were running directly into one of her comrades. If not, she took a mental map of where everyone had split off to. Three into the building opposite of her, seven into an adjacent one and more scattered back from where they¡¯d come from.


    There were approximately seventy bodies piled in the street when the gunfire slowly ceased. That left roughly thirty Remdians to find and kill.


    Seconds had passed, but the street was already stained red.


    Callie watched through her scope, trying to pick up on any movement in the area. Unfortunately, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.


    ¡°Check in,¡± Brady whispered into her earpiece.


    One by one, Callie listened as all her peers sounded off. She waited until the entire alpha team had spoken before she started the beta team''s call out. As head of the beta team this was procedure.


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    ¡°Merth,¡± she said, still scouring the streets for any red uniforms to pop into her view.


    She held her breath as she waited for the rest of the team to sound off.


    All but one soldier checked in.


    ¡°Freeman, you there?¡± Brady called out to the missing team member.


    There was no response.


    Callie sucked in a deep breath. She had known Freeman since they were in high school. They had joined the military together in an attempt to get out of their hellish lives. Both had overbearing parents in the socialite class. Neither had ever wanted to be a part of that world, so they joined the infantry and left their pasts far behind them.


    ¡°What building was he in?¡± Brady asked the group, though everyone knew he was asking Callie.


    ¡°One opposite the elephant, six floors, gray, he was on the second floor,¡± she said.


    ¡°Enemies?¡±


    ¡°Saw three enter through the front door, potentially more from another entrance,¡± she rattled off as much information as she could remember. She hadn¡¯t seen anyone else enter, but that didn¡¯t mean they hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Copy. Anyone on that side of the road?¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir,¡± a gruff voice spoke.


    Callahan. Callie sighed a breath of relief. If there was anyone, other than herself that she trusted to save Freeman it was Callahan.


    ¡°In the same building, on the fifth floor. I¡¯ll make my way down now,¡± Callahan spoke softer, knowing that enemy soldiers were in the building.


    Callie focused in on the second floor, she scanned all the windows hoping to see something, anything.


    Then, a slight glimpse of movement dashed across a window.


    ¡°Movement in the west corner,¡± she updated the team.


    ¡°Aye, almost there now,¡± Callahan responded quietly.


    ¡°Anyone else safe enough to move around, head that way. I¡¯m following a group of ten who fled further down the street,¡± Brady commented.


    No one spoke, but Callie knew everyone had already started moving.


    Her current vantage point of the building would be the most helpful for the men inside, so she stayed put.


    She kept her eyes peeled and listened for anything in the streets.


    Suddenly, she heard gunfire further down the road. She steadied her breathing, hoping her team were all safe.


    Then, she saw blasts on the second floor of the building she¡¯d been watching.


    All too soon, it was over once more. The silence was deafening as she waited for her comrades to check in again.


    ¡°Ten cleared,¡± Brady said.


    ¡°Three here,¡± Callahan said before sighing. ¡°Freeman is dead.¡±


    An unwelcome tear accumulated in Callie¡¯s eye. She knew the fight was far from over, but the news of her friend permeated her heart. She wanted to sprint across the street. She wanted to check Freeman¡¯s pulse and make sure he was in fact dead. She trusted Callahan, but she prayed he was wrong.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Brady spoke with obvious rage lining his words.


    ¡°By my count we¡¯ve got sixteen left. Let¡¯s get these bastards. For Freeman,¡± Brady spoke louder, a newfound motivation pushing him.


    Callie remained silent, still horrified at the news and formulating a plan to check Freeman for herself.


    A sudden crash of the apartment door ripped her from her thoughts. She spun around and pointed her firearm at the person who had intruded upon her.


    A red uniform blinded her thoughts and she pulled the trigger.


    It wasn¡¯t until the soldier was falling that she took note of their raised hands and pose of surrender. She watched the body collapse to the floor.


    ¡°One down,¡± she said to her team. ¡°For Freeman.¡±


    The wrath within her was evident.


    She stood up, an unquenchable thirst for blood pulsing through her veins. She grabbed her extra magazines, packed up her bag and made way to the exit.


    On her way she passed by a blood stained letter next to the warm corpse.


    Her eyes skimmed over the letters, ¡°Sorry about your apartment, Brier Jones.¡± She whispered as she left the crime scene behind her, ready to paint the walls of other homes red.

 Chapter 16 - Brier Jones

    Brier Jones tapped his fingers on his steering wheel impatiently. He had fled his neighborhood long before the soldiers neared his home, but the distance didn¡¯t make his panic any less prevalent.


    He was on his way to his mother¡¯s nursing home. He had a simple plan surrounding the war: Get the fuck out.


    He wasn¡¯t going to risk his life sticking around and waiting to see what happened. He wasn¡¯t a man of great confidence, nor was he one of heroic acts. He simply wanted to find his mother, get her packed, and flee the damn country.


    Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t the only one with a plan to flee. The roads were congested, and cars were bumper to bumper along the main roads.


    He kept the radio on to listen for more updates as he moved at a painfully glacial pace.


    ¡°This just in,¡± a breaking news announcement blared through his car. He heard it echoed in some cars around him as well. Everyone was listening with baited breath.


    ¡°Caledornian soldiers recently set an ambush for the enemy. They attacked on Pine Street.¡±


    Brier¡¯s knuckles turned white, the steering wheel unmoving under his crushing grip.


    My home. He thought. Though he was devastated that his home and his neighborhood had been invaded, he was pleased he¡¯d left long before it happened.


    ¡°The numbers we¡¯re receiving at the moment are approximately one hundred Remdian soldiers lost their lives and only one Caledornian soldier has fallen.¡±


    Brier took a deep breath. Those sounded like fairly decent numbers to him. He wasn¡¯t sure, but hopefully that meant they were winning.


    A ring of his cell phone shifted his attention.


    He grabbed the phone, glancing up to see traffic still hadn¡¯t moved. Surely I won¡¯t get a ticket for driving on my phone in this situation. He considered his options.


    Though he was usually a rule-abiding citizen, he felt answering a phone call under the circumstances was acceptable. He glanced back at the phone and saw his mother¡¯s image on the screen.


    He quickly tapped the green button and placed the phone against his ear.


    ¡°Brier! Where are you?¡± Her raspy voice was loud and jarring against his ear.


    ¡°On the way mum, I¡¯m on the way,¡± he responded hastily.


    ¡°Brier, everyone is in a panic! What¡¯s happening out there?¡± Her frantic words made Brier take a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. If they were both panicked, it wouldn¡¯t be good.


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    ¡°It¡¯s okay mum. Everyone is just scared,¡± he spoke calmly.


    A moment of silence ensued. Brier felt worry build up in him as he waited for his mother to speak again.


    ¡°Brier, your dad still isn¡¯t home from work.¡±


    Brier gritted his teeth at that. His father had left him and his mother forty years prior. He couldn¡¯t have given a shit less about the man nor where he was. But his mother¡¯s early onset dementia had made it difficult for him to truly forget about the man. She brought him up often unfortunately.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be home soon, mum,¡± he lied in an attempt to console her.


    ¡°He better be, I made us all dinner,¡± she responded.


    Brier took a deep breath. Apparently, she¡¯d forgotten about the chaos around her. It was a blessing in disguise, or that¡¯s how Brier chose to look at it.


    The traffic inched forward.


    ¡°Mum, where is your nurse?¡± Brier gently prodded.


    ¡°Nurse? I¡¯m not at the hospital, silly. I¡¯ve just gotten the pie out of the oven,¡± she spoke with a blissful tone.


    ¡°What kind of pie did you make?¡± he asked, playing into the fantasy until he could get to her.


    ¡°Apple of course. Your father¡¯s favorite,¡± she responded.


    ¡°Ahh, of course. How much time until it cools then?¡±


    ¡°Oh, about ten minutes or so.¡±


    ¡°Perfect, I¡¯ll be there just in time then,¡± he stated as the traffic finally started to give way.


    He was close, hopefully no more than ten minutes until he arrived at the nursing home. He wasn¡¯t even sure the nursing home would let him take his mother, but he was hoping it¡¯d be a simple sign out process. He wasn¡¯t willing to leave without her.


    ¡°Great to hear Brier. I¡¯ll see you soon then, love,¡± her voice was melodic, like he remembered from his childhood. Those days were when she had been happiest and it was almost nice to be reminded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you when I get there, mum,¡± Brier spoke with a sad smile upon his face.


    ¡°Okay sweetie. Love you!¡± she called out before hanging up on him.


    Brier threw his phone in the passenger¡¯s seat and gripped the wheel tightly.


    Without his mother¡¯s voice holding his attention, Brier tuned back into the radio station he had been listening to.


    ¡°Please be warned there have been sightings of Remdian aircrafts throughout the borders of the city. We are not sure yet what their intent is, but please be aware if you see an aircraft, take cover immediately.¡±


    Brier¡¯s eyes instantly snapped up to the sky. He found himself thankful there were only clouds to be seen. He usually hated this weather, but somehow clouds were better than planes.


    The radio station repeated the same updates after that.


    He listened intently, though each broadcast was the exact same. He hoped there would be talk of a treaty or a cease fire, but alas, it was just more of the same news.


    All too soon, Brier pulled up in front of the nursing home. He had half expected to see the parking lot full with people retrieving their parents. The six cars in the lot made his chest ache. He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened his door.


    He started his walk to the main door of the nursing home, tucking his hands in his pockets as the cold autumn wind picked up.


    He dreaded the conversation he was going to have with his mother, was he going to lie to her? Tell her his father asked them to meet at a diner outside of town? What was he going to say?


    He mulled it over, a daunting sense of anxiety building up with each step he took.


    ¡°Baby!¡±


    Brier glanced up upon the screech from across the street. There was a woman frantically yelling. She looked panicked, an emotion he understood all too well.


    ¡°Jasmine! We need to go!¡± A man called out to the woman.


    ¡°But I don¡¯t know where my son is!¡± She screamed back to the man.


    Brier slowed his steps. He considered running over and helping the woman find her child, but he settled on the idea that he, too, needed to leave. As much as he hated the idea of his upcoming conversation, his own mother was much more important than a random child.


    With that, he turned and entered the nursing home.

 Chapter 17 - Jasmine Baker

    Jasmine screamed once more, ¡°Baby! Please come here!¡±


    She frantically sprinted back into her home and began her search once again. It was the second time she had looked through her home, but she didn¡¯t know what else to do.


    Her boyfriend, Jeremy yelled from outside, ¡°Jasmine! Let¡¯s go!¡±


    While swinging open a closet and tossing the coats aside, she screamed, ¡°And what? Leave my son behind?¡± She scoffed at the absurd idea.


    ¡°If you can¡¯t find him, then yes! No one is going to be the reason I die, not even a kid! Especially if he ain¡¯t mine!¡±


    Jasmine straightened her spine upon hearing those words.


    She marched out the door and straight up to Jeremy. He smiled at her thinking she had finally come to reason.


    However, when she was close enough, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face. Her manicured nails left three angry red welts on his cheek.


    Her boyfriend recoiled and stepped back from her, surprised by her reaction.


    ¡°Get in your fucking car and leave. Don¡¯t ever speak to me again,¡± Jasmine¡¯s words were a guttural growl. She looked ready to maim the man she once called her lover.


    As if to further prove her point, she spat directly on his face. ¡°Get the fuck out of my life you spineless twat.¡±


    Jeremy gapped at her for a moment.


    ¡°B-but, you don¡¯t even have a car,¡± he stuttered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll walk to the ends of this damn planet before I get in a vehicle with you. Especially without my son!¡± She stepped closer to him, a warning to leave before she attacked again.


    ¡°F-fine! Fuck you,¡± he said as he jumped in his car and revved the engine.


    Jasmine didn¡¯t spare his car a second glance as she spun back towards the house.


    ¡°Who the fuck does he think he is?! Leave my child behind? What the fuck kinda moron is he?¡± She muttered the string of questions to herself, baffled by what had just transpired.


    She knew Jeremy wasn¡¯t her son¡¯s biological father, but she had assumed he cared about him, at least enough to help look for him in a dire situation. She hadn¡¯t anticipated the complete lack of concern for her only child.


    She slumped a little, discouraged by her horrific luck in men. She had never been in what one might call a healthy relationship. Jeremy hadn¡¯t laid a hand on her like some previous men dared to, but she hadn¡¯t realized until that day just how toxic he had been in his own way.


    She took a deep breath before regaining her composure. ¡°We¡¯re better off without him!¡±


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    Jasmine stepped back into her small two-bedroom house.


    She had a new sense of urgency in her actions, she wanted to leave, she needed to leave. But she refused to do so without her son. Without a car now, things would be a lot more difficult.


    ¡°Baby! Where are you, kiddo?¡± She called out, entering the kitchen.


    She looked in the fridge, the pantry, under the table.


    Jasmine checked behind the shower curtain, under all the beds, behind all the doors, in the cupboards and in the washing machine.


    But, her five-year-old son was nowhere to be seen.


    He had never been the best at listening, Jasmine knew it was probably because she¡¯d been too relaxed in raising him. She didn¡¯t want to be hard on him because she knew he didn¡¯t have a stable father in his life. She had hoped she was giving him enough support and love to count for two parents.


    In that moment, however, she felt like she had betrayed him. She hadn¡¯t taught him the difference between serious and joking moments. He probably thought they were playing hide-and-seek.


    With defeat weighing down her bones, Jasmine collapsed to the floor in her son¡¯s bedroom.


    She leaned up against the blue-painted wall and stared around the room, hoping for something to spark her imagination. She was out of ideas.


    Jasmine looked at the framed photos of them together through the years. His cheerful face and brown ringlet curls present in every photo.


    There were photos of birthday parties and zoo dates. Photos of ice cream shenanigans and baking lessons. Photos of the life she had built for her son. She hoped he was happy and that she¡¯d done enough for him. Raising a little one alone was never easy, but she took pride in being a good mother, at least better than her own had been.


    A silent tear slipped down her cheek.


    ¡°Oh, baby. Where are you?¡± she whispered into the empty room.


    Suddenly, she sat up. A picture on the wall stuck out to her. It was from a birthday party her son had last year. He was smiling gleefully with their next-door neighbor. Her son always loved playing with their neighbor¡¯s son. They¡¯d spend hours playing together.


    Jasmine stood up and sprinted towards the door so quickly she had to catch herself on the wall to stop from falling.


    She raced to their neighbor¡¯s house, five houses down the road. The street was relatively dead and empty, she assumed most people had already left.


    Arriving at the house quickly, Jasmine was out of breath and gasping for air.


    ¡°Baby! Are you here?¡± She yelled out, taking a quick glance around the front yard.


    ¡°Please be here, please be here,¡± she mumbled to herself, completely out of ideas if her son wasn¡¯t there.


    Jasmine called out to him twice more, her panic increasing with every syllable she spoke.


    She ran up to the front door and knocked manically against it. No one answered, unsurprisingly.


    Glancing around the yard she found a rock. She quickly grabbed it and threw it against a ground floor window. The glass shattered instantly. She reached in, cutting her forearm against the shards as she unlocked the window from inside.


    She pushed the pane up and climbed inside.


    Had there been anyone on the street, she assumed the cops would have already been arresting her, but she was desperate and couldn¡¯t have cared less about a stupid window.


    She ran through the familiar house calling out to her son. She searched up and down through all the rooms and closets once more.


    It was empty, just like her house had been.


    She screamed frustratedly, pulling at the roots of her hair and stomping her feet. Jasmine was out of ideas, she had no idea where to look next or what to do.


    She fell to her knees and began to sob.


    ¡°Simon. Simon, where are you, baby?¡± She weakly cried out his name between her sobs.


    She knelt on the living room floor in her neighbor¡¯s house, distraught and overwhelmed with despair. She resigned herself to the fact that Simon was missing and there was nothing more to be done. Tears cascaded freely down her face as the realization settled.


    She never checked the treehouse outside where her son was playing with his Legos. She also neglected to notice the Remdian plane in the distance closing in.

 Chapter 18 - Simon Baker

    When Simon Baker heard his mom and Jeremy fighting, he chose to run to his friend¡¯s house instead. They were having grown up talk and it sounded serious. Simon couldn¡¯t understand the big words, but he could always understand what Patrick, his neighbor, said.


    He had taken off down the street skipping happily, ready to see his friend.


    Simon saw people in the street screaming and yelling but he didn¡¯t understand why they were all so angry. He sped up his steps, he hated being around angry people.


    He got to Patrick¡¯s house and knocked on the front door like he had done so many times previous. His mom usually accompanied him, so he was proud he was able to do it by himself.


    No one answered the door though. Was he doing it wrong?


    He tried again, a little firmer with his delicate fist. Still, no one answered.


    Simon looked around the house and didn¡¯t see anyone around. He was confused. This was their house, where else would they be?


    Ah! Groceries. Sometimes Simon and his mother left their house for groceries. They were never gone long though.


    Deciding his friend had just run down to the local market, Simon opted to play in the backyard while he waited.


    He bounded down to the little play area in the back of the house. His smile took up half his face and his curls bounced with just as much happiness as his little feet.


    Many toys were left out in the yard, which only served to improve Simon¡¯s mood as he scooped up a bunch of trucks and began bashing them together. He was in the middle of attacking the red truck with the green one when he saw the treehouse out of the corner of his eye.


    He and Patrick had always been told not to go up there if there were no adults. But, it looked like so much fun. Plus, Simon was a big boy now, he could do it.


    He bravely approached the steps and put his foot on the first step. He clutched the hand rail as tightly as he could.


    His smile grew. Simon stepped up to the second step. Again, no problems.


    ¡°Mommy, look!¡± he yelled.


    But, Simon¡¯s mother wasn¡¯t there. He had forgotten he was alone. Oh well, he¡¯d show her later what he could do. He knew she¡¯d be proud.


    Simon pushed on. Little by little he overcame the seven steps leading to the tree house. What felt like a mountain to him, was barely six feet off the ground, but he was proud of his achievement.


    As he reached the top step, he twisted the handle of the little door. It slid open with ease. At this, Simon clapped his hands and stomped his feet. He was completely elated.


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    He jumped in the room and glanced around at all the toys laying around. What would he play with first?


    Legos. It had to be the big block Legos, there were no other toys that would bring him as much joy. So, with a colorful array of plastic blocks Simon got to work building a whole city.


    When he was satisfied with his massive, multicolored buildings, he did what any small boy would do. He destroyed them all. He pretended to be a monster, smashing into all the pieces and sending pieces scattering across the wooden floor.


    Again, his smile grew.


    After a while though, the Legos got boring. In the corner of his eye, he saw crayons and a big stack of paper.


    He jumped over the mess he had made and grabbed a handful of crayons. He plopped down on the floor and began to draw.


    First, a dragon, or at least that¡¯s what Simon saw. Most other people would have seen a scribbly mess of green and back shapes with two red lines. Only Simon knew that it was clearly breathing fire.


    Next, he drew his family. He drew a little stick figure boy, himself. He scribbled in brown hair and gave himself a green shirt. Then, his mom, a beautiful smile upon her circular head. She was wearing a purple dress. His mom always loved purple. Lastly, he drew his father. Chaotic little lines etched across the man¡¯s face served as a beard. He was much larger than Simon and his mother and he wore black clothing.


    Simon didn¡¯t remember much about his father. His mother had told him he was in a place that helped bad people get better. Simon didn¡¯t know what that meant, but he knew he missed his father. He used to play with him and read stories to him every night.


    Simon looked at the picture, content with his progress.


    Now came the big mission, writing. He jotted down ¡®Simon¡¯ with a backwards ¡®s.¡¯ ¡®Mommy¡¯ took him the longest as all the humps of the ¡®m¡¯s confused him greatly. The final word, ¡®Daddy¡¯ was written as ¡°Dabby,¡¯ but Simon thought it was all correct.


    He was overjoyed with his beautiful picture. He couldn¡¯t wait to show Patrick and his mother. Just thinking of them reminded him he was still alone. He glanced around the room just to double check. Yes. He was still alone.


    Bored of being alone, he took his picture and trotted back down the steps carefully. It took him a few minutes, but he managed without falling once. It was a success.


    He sprang toward the main door of his friend¡¯s house, surely they¡¯d be back from shopping by now. Once more he knocked on the door.


    This time someone answered. His mother.


    ¡°Simon!¡± She screamed and grabbed his body with haste. She squeezed the little toddler tightly. ¡°Where have you been?¡±


    ¡°Pway in da dree house!¡± Simon responded happily.


    His mother chuckled as more tears careened down her cheeks.


    She pulled back to look at him, she lifted his arms and checked his back, checking for injuries. Once she was satisfied that he was perfectly healthy, she finally took a breath.


    ¡°Baby, you scared me.¡±


    ¡°Sowwie, mommy,¡± Simon looked down, ashamed.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, baby. Let¡¯s get going though.¡±


    ¡°I wanna pway with Patwick,¡± the little boy cheered. ¡°And show him my dwawing.¡± He held the picture up in front of his mom.


    She looked it over with an overwhelming pride. ¡°Baby, this is beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Dat¡¯s me, and dat you. Dis is daddy.¡± Simon pointed out who each of the three humans in the picture were.


    ¡°Oh, this is your daddy?¡± His mother asked. ¡°We call him Ace, baby, not daddy.¡±


    ¡°Ace,¡± Simon copied his mother.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Now, we gotta get going, we¡¯ll come see Patrick another day.¡±


    She took Simon¡¯s hand and pulled him out of the house. They started the short walk back to their home.


    ¡°Ace, Ace, Ace,¡± the little boy chanted in a singsong voice, stopping suddenly when he was distracted.


    ¡°Mommy, look! A plane!¡± Simon cheered as he pointed to the skies above.


    His mother glanced up and all the color drained from her face. It was a red plane, one she¡¯d been warned to take cover from. She grabbed Simon in her arms and held him close to her chest and she sprinted to their home.


    She reached the door, just in time to see the plane drop a bomb.

 Chapter 19 - Ace Nichols

    Ace Nichols sat in his cold cement cell. The mattress beneath him was hard and worn down. He gazed at the iron bars in the front of his little nook and sighed. He hated being locked up in that cage, but he knew he deserved it.


    He had spent years stealing and dealing. Both were fairly frowned upon in the eyes of Mother Justice, and she¡¯d finally caught up to him. He just wished he¡¯d had a chance to see more of his son¡¯s life before he got locked up. He was looking at ten years inside hell and Simon would be thirteen before he¡¯d get to see him again.


    Jasmine refused to bring him to the jail to visit him, and while Ace understood, he also loathed her for it.


    ¡°Alright boys, play time, you know the rules!¡± a guard spoke loudly to the cells around Ace. Same speech every day, but the men he was bunked near rarely followed the rules.


    ¡°Open Cell Block C,¡± the guard called out. On his command, all the iron doors clicked and slid open.


    The inmates all lined up outside their cells and waited to be told they could move towards the courtyard. The guards present all watched them intently, almost waiting for one of them to make a wrong move, so they¡¯d get to use their treasured batons.


    The inmates stood quietly.


    ¡°Move out,¡± that same booming voice ricocheted around the hallway. The men turned and made their way to the courtyard.


    It wasn¡¯t much but it was enough. It was a space to get some sunlight and fresh air, that¡¯s all Ace really wanted. The high cement walls with barbed wire fused to the top reminded Ace he was still in a cage, but it was enough to be outside.


    The prison was small, there wasn¡¯t an exorbitant budget for the upkeep of it. There were no guards with guns on pillars like you see in the movies. There had never been a prison break in Caledorn, so why would they need to worry?


    Ace saw the small group of men he had learned to tolerate. He made his way towards them, all circled around a picnic table.


    ¡°Oi, boys,¡± he greeted them as he sat down.


    ¡°Shhh!¡± One of them rudely shushed him. Ace was about to slap him for the utter lack of respect but someone turned the volume up on a handheld radio.


    ¡°Remdian soldiers have invaded. The soldiers on foot were stopped in their tracks by our Caledorn army setting up an ambush. Many thought that was the end of it. However, there are tanks flooding the borders and nearing Caledorn every minute.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Ace sneered listening to the radio. He had yet to hear anything about this invasion, to say he was shocked would be an understatement.


    ¡°That¡¯s not to mention the planes that have started dropping bombs all across the western side of the country. We have no way of tallying the death toll as of yet, but things are looking grim.¡± The newscaster sounded forlorn as they spoke.


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    Ace however, just felt enraged. The prison was located in the middle of the small country, but he knew people in the west. His son lived on the western side of Caledorn. He knew Jasmine was smart, so he assumed she wouldn¡¯t have stuck around. She¡¯d protect Simon with her life, Ace knew that. Nonetheless, the idea that someone was attacking his family while he was stuck in a prison didn¡¯t bode well for him.


    He looked around the table at the men with him.


    ¡°Man, if they get any closer with those bombs, we¡¯re sitting ducks!¡± one man grimaced at the thought.


    ¡°What the fuck are we supposed to do? Prison break?¡± another man sneered.


    Ace was sick of the faffing and it¡¯d only just begun. He stood up and walked over to the guard¡¯s station. His feet slammed against the dirt with determination, an untamed rage billowing within him.


    He stood before the pathetic chain link fence. His size was massively oppressive in such a small space.


    ¡°So, when were you gonna tell us about the fucking war?¡± he growled at the guards. He spoke just loud enough to be overheard by everyone in the courtyard.


    For a single moment the guard hesitated. He knew as well as Ace did that if he didn¡¯t handle the situation properly, there would be a full-on riot.


    ¡°When it concerned you,¡± the guard clipped back, finding his power once more by grasping the baton in his hands.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think war concerns me? Us?¡± Ace gestured around the courtyard. ¡°They are bombing the western side of the country!¡±


    He stepped closer to the fence, his chest heaving against it and heat radiating from his body as he huffed.


    ¡°You wanna know where my five-year-old son lives?¡± The growl that emanated from Ace was enough to scare any grown man, the lethal look in his eyes only increased his intimidating aura.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell ya. Fucking western Caledorn. You wanna tell me again that this doesn¡¯t concern me?¡± Ace cracked his neck, as if preparing himself for a battle.


    The guard raised his baton, partially from fear and partially to serve as a warning.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing I can do for you. You¡¯re the dumbass who got yourself put on that side of the fence,¡± the guard responded.


    Judging by the smirk on Ace¡¯s face, it would be a statement the guard soon regretted.


    All at once the courtyard was enveloped in mayhem.


    Most inmates charged the guard station with nothing but their fists to aid them. The stragglers took the distraction as an opportunity to fight their rival inmates. The guards, protected by a thin wire gate, started to show their fear as fifty feral men pushed against the fence.


    Apparently, that metal fence couldn¡¯t contain the weight of fifty grown men. As they pushed, the bolts started to pop out of the cement. One by one, they flew out of the nearby wall, allowing the fence to slowly push forward.


    With one final push, the entire fence gave way. The guards stood before a mob of angry men, with no barriers to protect them. They raised their batons, though they knew the battle would be lost before it began.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Ace roared above the mayhem.


    Everyone stopped.


    He stepped forward. ¡°Give us the fucking key and we¡¯ll let you go. I just wanna get to my family. I don¡¯t give a fuck about becoming a murderer today.¡±


    The head guard looked him in the eye. They both knew just because Ace didn¡¯t want to kill him, the other criminals might not be as accommodating.


    ¡°You¡¯re on your own, Ace,¡± the guard seethed.


    ¡°Fine then,¡± Ace took one step back. ¡°Boys.¡±


    The inmates seemed to purr with delight as they descended on the outnumbered guards.


    Ace watched on as the scene became a gory scene, blood splattering across his orange jumper.


    Someone threw him a key chain. He caught it in the air with one hand.


    Without needing to see more of the carnage behind him, he spun around and opened the door. A team of guards with riot gear waited on the other side of the door.


    Ace chuckled, ¡°Round two, so soon?¡± A manic sense of determination to get to Simon had long since possessed Ace. He was willing to kill or be killed to get to his son.


    ¡°Stand down!¡± The guards yelled.


    ¡°Such a shame, I always liked you, Leon.¡± Ace feigned sadness as he looked into the eyes of one guard.


    No more words were spoken as the two groups collided in a bloody battle.

 Chapter 20 - Leon Gryer

    Leon stood behind a shield, one he hoped would save his life. He was aware the inmates outnumbered his own team, but he hoped their equipment would aid them in finding victory.


    He regretted now, more than ever, that guards weren¡¯t permitted guns. Caledorn had been a peaceful nation with strict anti-gun laws. Unfortunately, that applied to guards too. It had never been an issue before, but looking at the mob before him, Leon¡¯s right hand itched to be holding a firearm.


    They charged like a unified team of gladiators. Many were already covered in blood, even those who weren¡¯t gorey were ready to duel to the death.


    Leon¡¯s shield absorbed blow after blow from angry inmates, especially Ace.


    He had always given Ace a hard time. It was a rite of passage as a guard to pick on the strongest inmates. Leon had never cared about the politics of the prison, but he wanted to fit in and be respected. He chose Ace because he was a force to be reckoned with. At that moment, Leon regretted it all.


    Ace¡¯s punches and kicks sent him further and further back. He barely had a chance to wield his baton before it was ripped from his hand.


    Ace leaned in, holding the weapon high above his head. ¡°I¡¯m going to hit your shield very hard. Fall down and do not get back up,¡± Ace gruffly whispered to him.


    Leon stood there, dumbfounded. He didn¡¯t know whether to headbutt the criminal before him and rage into the fray once more or do as he said and play dead.


    All too soon the baton collided with his shield, a great force reverberating through it. If that hit was upon the shield, he wasn¡¯t prepared to see what happened when it hit his body. Leon chose falling over being a hero.


    Leon crumpled to the floor in the least graceful way he could, forcing his limbs to stay by his sides and not catch his fall.


    He let his eyes fall shut.


    Around him he heard the grunts and hollers of various men still battling. He felt bad for the guards he wasn¡¯t helping, but at the same time, he wasn¡¯t willing to die for any of them. They were co-workers and most of them were heinous people. Not the type of people one should take a bullet for. At least, not the type that Leon was willing to die for.


    He remained silent on the floor, waiting patiently while the fight ensued.


    Finally, after what felt like hours, the fight stopped. He heard footsteps grow further away as a group departed the area.


    Still, he waited.


    After hearing nothing for a solid five minutes, he braved opening his eyes. Around him he saw bodies of both sides, though there were more guards strewn about than inmates. All dead. Bludgeoned to death.


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    Leon sat up, discarding his shield and fishing in his pocket for his cell phone.


    He stood up, his fingers expertly sliding across the screen to unlock it and call someone. The only person he gave a damn about besides himself.


    His sister.


    The phone rang and rang, but no one answered.


    Leon expected as much, he had no right to ask for more. He¡¯d never been a great brother. He knew he deserved the shunned silence he¡¯d received for years.


    Dejected, he hung up, stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stealthily stepped through the empty corridors. He knew, if he stumbled across any prisoners, they¡¯d kill him without hesitation.


    Using his knowledge of the building, he wove through hallways and back rooms. He stopped a few times, hearing voices nearby. He held his breath and glued himself to the walls, trying to remain out of sight.


    Finally, he found himself near an exit. It wasn¡¯t the most convenient exit as it was on the other side of the building from his motorbike, but it was an exit, nonetheless.


    He slid through the door and began his mission to get to his vehicle and drive far, far away. He knew he should have called someone and stayed behind to help clean up the prison. He knew many dangerous criminals had just fled into Caledorn. Though somehow, he didn¡¯t care. There was a war going on, surely that took precedence.


    He rounded the building to see a hoard of inmates all dressed in orange, in the parking garage.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered to himself. There was no way he was going to get his bike from there. Not with that many inmates to contend with.


    He knew there were a few houses nearby, maybe one of them would lend him a vehicle, or he¡¯d ask them to warn the authorities about the situation at the prison.


    Settling on a plan he spun around and ran in the opposite direction. He moved quickly, not knowing if anyone had seen him flee. He ran up the hill behind the prison, cresting it out of breath and exhausted. He glanced behind him and saw no one following him and he sighed in relief.


    Leon took a moment to sit down and catch his breath. From the top of the hill he could see the vastness of Caledorn sprawled out before him. He couldn¡¯t see any imminent signs of war, but he knew they were happening just out of his sight.


    Once more he reached for his cell phone. He dialed his sister, again.


    The phone rang. And kept ringing. As he lifted his thumb to end the call, someone spoke.


    ¡°Uncle Leon?¡±


    Leon grasped the phone and pressed it against his ear. ¡°Hey, kiddo! Long time no talk,¡± he tried to sound cheerful but failed.


    ¡°Why are you calling Uncle Leon?¡± the sweet little voice asked.


    ¡°Is your mom around, kiddo?¡± Leon answered their question with a question.


    There was a bit of shuffling behind the phone before the voice spoke again, ¡°She says she doesn¡¯t wanna talk to you.¡±


    Leon sighed. ¡°Alright, kiddo. I understand that. Can you put me on speaker phone? I have something I want to say to her.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± A few more muffled noises sounded in Leon¡¯s ear. ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°Thanks kiddo,¡± Leon said. He paused for a moment trying to collect his thoughts. Fearing his sister would simply end the phone call if he said the wrong thing, he wanted to be concise.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry sis,¡± he started. ¡°I know I wasn¡¯t there for you a lot as kids. Our parents were¡­ Well, piss poor parents and I should have supported you more. I was scared. Hell, I¡¯m still scared.¡±


    He took another deep breath.


    ¡°I just wanted you to know now, in case this war ends badly. I wanted you to hear from me that I¡¯m sorry and I love you, Kelly.¡±


    Before she could berate him or say something to make him cry, Leon hung up the phone.


    He sat back on the hill and looked out over Caledorn once more, wondering how life manged to get so fucked up in such a short time.

 Chapter 21 - Kelly Gryer

    Kelly stared at the phone for a long while before grabbing it off the coffee table and throwing it in her purse.


    ¡°Too little, too late, bro,¡± she muttered to herself.


    ¡°Mom, why do you hate Uncle Leon?¡± Kelly¡¯s daughter prompted.


    Kelly whirled around to face the young girl. ¡°I don¡¯t hate him,¡± she spoke hastily. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­¡±


    Kelly paused, trying to find the right words to describe how she truly felt.


    ¡°I¡¯m just angry. That¡¯s all, pumpkin,¡± was what she settled on.


    ¡°You stay mad for a long time! I hope I don¡¯t make you mad,¡± the little girl stated, shrugging her shoulders.


    Kelly stopped to think about that statement. Had she been too harsh on him? Had she refused to forgive him even when she probably should have? She didn¡¯t know, but she wasn¡¯t ready to forget all the hell her childhood brought her nor how little he¡¯d helped her.


    ¡°Kelly!¡±


    The holler from her husband reminded her of her current task.


    ¡°Pumpkin, go pack a bag, we¡¯re going to visit Gramma and Grampa this weekend,¡± Kelly snapped back into ¡®Mom-Mode.¡¯


    Her daughter jumped off the couch and sprinted towards her room, clearly excited by the prospect of seeing her grandparents.


    Kelly ran out to the driveway where her husband was packing their car. ¡°She¡¯s packing up her bags now, we¡¯ll be out soon,¡± she said.


    ¡°Perfect, I¡¯m almost done here, then we can head to my parents. You¡¯re sure you really want to go there, right?¡± he asked with slight trepidation.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, love. They aren¡¯t in this god forsaken country. I¡¯d feel safer anywhere that isn¡¯t Caledorn at the moment,¡± she replied. She hadn¡¯t had a good relationship with her in-laws, but she was willing to take them on if it meant she¡¯d be keeping her family safe.


    He nodded, knowing her train of thought without needing to be told. ¡°And what about Leon?¡± he asked quietly.


    ¡°He¡¯ll figure it out. I don¡¯t care to bother myself with his survival,¡± her voice clipped.


    ¡°Fair enough, love,¡± he responded with a chaste kiss to her forehead.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to check the news for any updates while we finish up packing. Are you going to call Lauren?¡± Kelly asked with no malice in her voice.


    Lauren was her husband¡¯s ex. They had a child together, so it was only right that he reached out to them. Kelly would never stop him from doing so, even if she hated Lauren.


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    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯ll call them.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    She kissed him on the cheek and trotted back into the house.


    Kelly and her family had yet to see the devastation that the war had truly brought. They were on the eastern side of Caledorn and had seen no violence aside from in news reports. One might say, they¡¯d been lucky.


    Kelly clicked the T.V on, conveniently it was still on the news station. She sat on the couch waiting for her daughter to finish packing as she watched recent updates.


    She almost dropped the remote when she saw the current story. It was the Caledorn president, addressing the nation.


    ¡°It is with great sorrow that I greet you all today. I had hoped it¡¯d be a joyous occasion in which I spoke of treaties. But, alas, Remdia has refused to cease fire. They are intent on this war, and it is because of that I address you today.¡±


    The stoic man on the T.V took a moment to compose himself before he continued.


    "We are asking everyone currently in Caledorn to evacuate. The surrounding countries on the eastern border are taking all refugees.¡±


    He stopped again before looking directly at the camera.


    ¡°However, we will be asking all able-bodied men to stay and fight.¡±


    Kelly stared at the screen. The president, her president, kept speaking, but she didn¡¯t hear any of it. She¡¯d just been told her husband was going to be asked to fight in this war.


    She stood up on wobbly legs and carried herself in a daze to her husband. She entered her garage and he looked up at her. He saw her struggling to stand on her own and rushed to her side.


    ¡°Kelly, love? What¡¯s wrong?¡± his words were frantic as he searched her face.


    ¡°You¡­¡± she hesitated, struggling to find the words. ¡°You¡­ have to fight.¡±


    As soon as she spoke the words she twisted out of his arms and vomited all over the floor. Her entire dinner was splattered across the garage floor. She couldn¡¯t stop her body from revolting as realization settled into her bones.


    She¡¯d have to leave her husband behind. He¡¯d be asked to fight.


    An image of him dying, even if it was her imagination, forced her to keel over once more, gasping for air between violent upheavals.


    Her husband came up behind her and slowly started rubbing soothing circles on her back.


    ¡°Kelly, we¡¯ll be okay. No matter what happens, we¡¯ll figure it out,¡± he stated calmly.


    ¡°Hide in the trunk,¡± Kelly said with manic desperation. ¡°When we get to the border, hide in the trunk.¡±


    ¡°Kelly. No,¡± he stated calmly.


    She started to respond but he interrupted her.


    ¡°What kind of man would I be if I didn¡¯t protect my family when I had the chance. You and our pumpkin would grow to hate me for being a coward. If this is what our country is calling for, I shall answer.¡±


    He spoke with such calmness that his words alone started to convince her. She felt herself drowning in his eyes, overcome with pride and love for the man before her.


    She hated the idea of leaving him behind, but there was a conviction in his eyes that she knew she couldn¡¯t dismiss.


    ¡°If¡­ if you die, I will kill you myself,¡± she spoke softly.


    ¡°I know, love, I know,¡± he chuckled at her.


    ¡°I love you,¡± Kelly whispered. If nothing else, she needed to make sure he knew that. Nothing else mattered. They¡¯d figure the rest out at the border, until then, he needed to know she loved him.


    ¡°And I love you,¡± he spoke just as quietly. ¡°Forever.¡±


    ¡°Til death do us part,¡± she wept in a hushed tone.


    He cradled her in his arms, uncaring about the various remnants of vomit that were littered across her shirt. He loved her through it all.


    She clutched him tighter, holding on to potentially the last moment of peace they would see in their lives.


    Eventually they pulled away.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to call Lauren,¡± her husband said.


    She nodded in approval. Watching him reach for his phone. He looked at the screen for a few moments before dialing.


    ¡°Hey, Joe!¡± He spoke to his teenage son, feigning happiness. Kelly could see he was scared. She was too.


    Kelly smiled weakly and entered her house to give him privacy and call Leon.

 Chapter 22 - Joe Fields

    Joe looked at the phone before he quickly answered.


    ¡°Hey, Joe!¡± he heard his dad say.


    ¡°Dad,¡± he whispered. ¡°Help!¡± He spoke slightly louder but still hushed.


    ¡°Joe? What¡¯s going on?¡± his dad asked quickly.


    ¡°There¡¯s tanks rolling in our street. Mom and I are trying to make a quick escape, but we¡¯re scared they¡¯ll shoot us down if they see us!¡±


    ¡°Son, hide. Do not try to leave. Hide immediately,¡± his father rushed out his words.


    ¡°But what if we get stuck here?¡± Joe asked, skeptical of the idea.


    ¡°None of that matters right now, Joe. Protect yourself right now and sort out the rest as it happens.¡±


    Joe waved to his mother who was ducking down behind their car. She slowly made her way to him, careful not to attract the attention of the soldiers.


    ¡°Mom, dad says we should just hide.¡±


    ¡°Is your father on the phone now?¡± she asked.


    She reached out her hand, silently asking for the phone. When it was in her grasp she spooke quietly, ¡°I have no idea what to do here. Hide? Is that really the best option?¡±


    Joe could no longer hear what his father was saying, but he assumed he was giving more advice because his mother just nodded her head.


    ¡°Okay, okay. Here he is,¡± she whispered.


    She passed the phone back to Joe and pointed to the door. ¡°Let¡¯s go inside and hide in my bedroom.¡±


    Joe accepted this decision and followed his mother back into their home. He kept his father on the line as they crouched through the house. Joe considered standing when they weren¡¯t passing a window, but decided it was best to stay low throughout.


    They climbed the stairs cringing when the fifth rickety step creaked. Anxiety licked itself up Joe¡¯s spine, raising all his hairs on end. The horror of being caught kept his heart thrumming at an unhealthy rate.


    Finally, they ascended the last step. Joe stayed close to his mother as they crawled to her room. Once inside, she locked the door, falling against it and exhaled.


    Joe collapsed on the floor, exhausted from the stress inhabiting his body.


    ¡°Joe? Lauren?¡± a muffled voice spoke from his phone.


    Joe dragged his hand closer to his ear. ¡°We¡¯re okay. Just hiding now,¡± the teen whispered to his father.


    ¡°Okay, okay. Mute me, but I¡¯ll stay on the line so it¡¯s quiet. Stay safe, Joe.¡± his father worriedly said.


    ¡°Okay. Thanks, dad,¡± Joe responded.


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    Joe and his mother eventually found the strength to move. They crawled into the closest and sat against the wall. Both horrified and worried.


    They stayed silent, only the sound of mechanical whirling and bites of the tank¡¯s treads against the pavement could be heard.


    That was terrifying enough, but when the screams and gunfire began, that was the moment Joe and his mother understood the true meaning of terror.


    The tank shot bullets like fireworks, crackling through the air with an untamed fervor. They ate through everything in their wake, both biological and inanimate.


    Joe¡¯s mother cradled him in her arms. Regardless of how much he liked to be perceived as a tough guy at school, in that moment he willingly wept against his mother¡¯s shoulder. He drew blood from his lip attempting to keep the wails at bay.


    The building shook under the attack, the ground rumbled beneath them as the tanks spread throughout the street, firing at anything and everything.


    Joe stayed in his mother¡¯s embrace, flinching with each new sound. He begged for it all to end, he wished it was a nightmare. He hoped that if he pinched himself hard enough, he¡¯d wake up in math class, listening to Mr. Riley droll on about geometry.


    Those wordless prayers weren¡¯t answered by a higher power that day as Joe was forced to sit and wait out the atrocious onslaught of bullets.


    Shattering glass nearby caused Joe to let out a high-pitched scream.


    His mother instantly muffled his wail with her hand. With her palm across his jaw, she looked him dead in the eye, horror swimming in her dilated pupils.


    He knew he had made a severe mistake, with just that look, he knew.


    The initial sound of breaking glass was close, but the next came from right outside the closet door. The tank was firing upon their house.


    Joe¡¯s mother shoved him to the floor and sprawled her body across him. She kept her hand over his mouth as they waited out the storm of bullets.


    Tiny holes formed in the closet door, letting in the outside light like a constellation of stars. Had it been any other circumstance, it might have been beautiful.


    Joe¡¯s wide eyes watched the wood splinter, fracturing into tiny shards all around him. His face was wet with a combination of tears and sweat from his mother¡¯s hand.


    When the closet door had more holes than solid wood, the tank shifted its attention.


    It had moved on, finally.


    Joe sucked in air as he pulled his mom¡¯s hand from his face. He gasped for the necessary oxygen, barely able to contain himself from screaming in terror once more.


    His mother, however, didn¡¯t move.


    Joe, still focused on himself, couldn¡¯t feel any pain and his limbs seemed to be intact. His ears rang and his head throbbed, but he felt okay. He felt alive, at the very least.


    With a deep breath he relaxed onto the floor, he could breathe again. While catching his breath, he noticed something wet starting to warm his side. He reached down to his abdomen and touched his right ribs. It was covered in a sticky ooze. He pulled his hand back to inspect it further. In the now illuminated closet, he could see his hand was glistening red.


    In a panic, Joe sat upright and patted down his side. Again, he didn¡¯t feel any pain.


    Realization sunk in as Joe slowly turned to look down at his mother, who had rolled off of him when he sat up.


    Her eyes were closed in a way that made her look peaceful. If not for her blood-stained clothing, Joe would have assumed she¡¯d fallen asleep or passed out. As it were, however, the teenager knew something was very wrong.


    He bent down to shake her awake. She did not respond. He shook harder, but still received no response.


    Letting all rationality and logic soar away from him, he began screaming, ¡°Mom! Mom!¡±


    Still, the woman on the floor didn¡¯t move nor show any signs of life.


    He cried her name, continuing to shake her when a sudden crash sounded in the bedroom. Startled, Joe looked up to see the door to his mother¡¯s bedroom rived in half.


    Before him stood a soldier wearing all red.


    Joe pulled his mother into his arms, shielding her from whatever was about to happen. He was too shocked and distraught to speak or cry. He simply stared at the demon in front of him.


    ¡°Lieutenant Casey, any signs of life?¡± Joe heard a staticky voice relay.


    The soldier reached for a small Walkie-Talkie and responded. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°The orders are clear, take care of it,¡± the voice responded.


    The red-clothed monster lifted his hand and pointed a gun directly at Joe. Joe nuzzled his face into his mother¡¯s neck, taking a deep breath. The last thing he thought about was the comforting scent of his mother¡¯s hair.


    Bang.

 Chapter 23 - Lieutenant Franklin Casey

    Lieutenant Franklin Casey stood over the crime scene for a moment longer than he needed to. He wasn¡¯t sure how to feel. He¡¯d been told they were the enemy. He¡¯d been convinced that Caledorn was going to invade Remdia and kill his family. Yet, in that moment he was looking at a young boy and a helpless mother. He wasn¡¯t sure what to think any more.


    Franklin lowered his arm and his weapon slowly. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, wearing colors that made him proud to represent. He nodded to himself, he had done the right thing. His country wouldn¡¯t lie to him.


    Turning away from the scene he relayed a message into his Walkie-Talkie. ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°Meet back with the team then,¡± his commanding officer said.


    Franklin¡¯s team had heard screaming coming from this location and they had sent him and two others off to handle the situation. He was well equipped with both firearms and hand to hand combat, so he entered the room first.


    Upon seeing the situation, he told the others to spread out and check the rest of the house, he could handle a child and their mother.


    He met back up with his peers and confirmed there was no one else in the home.


    They then crept back out onto the desolate streets and met up with the team, stepping over broken glass, dead bodies and wooden debris on their walk.


    ¡°How many?¡± his captain prompted.


    ¡°One,¡± Franklin shrugged, completely unfazed.


    ¡°Good. The other teams are investigating other suspicious sounds. When they get back we¡¯ll move out.¡±


    ¡°Where to next?¡± Franklin asked, only half expecting a response.


    ¡°Further in. We¡¯re expected to take control of this region by the end of the day. Gotta lot of work to do,¡± his captain stated blandly.


    It was still the middle of the night, but that didn¡¯t leave them a lot of time.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Franklin conceded, regardless of how difficult their task seemed. With that, he fell back with the rest of his team.


    As he stepped back, he heard whispering, ¡°Are we sure this is right?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anymore, no one has even put up a fight. Can¡¯t we just apprehend them and move on?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying! This feels like genocide.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Franklin said with a ferocious growl.


    The group stopped immediately and hung their heads in shame. Shame for having the opinions they had or shame for being caught, Franklin didn¡¯t know nor did he care.


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    ¡°We¡¯re here fighting a battle before they kill all of us. Don¡¯t forget that. These families could be yours. Don¡¯t get it twisted. I will report you if I hear this treasonous chatter again,¡± he chastised the group.


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± They all chanted back, straightening their backs and locking their arms at their sides. It was clear Franklin had just pulled rank on them and he wouldn¡¯t let another conversation like that slide so easily in the future.


    He waved a hand and dismissed them. Though they were out of sight, their words replayed in his mind like a broken record.


    Genocide. How could they think that?


    Sounding the word out in his head and baffled by its placement in his crew, he looked around to distract himself. The dead street was dead for more than one reason. The emptiness and corpses combined to create an overwhelming fusion of death.


    Genocide.


    ¡°Lieutenant Casey. Front and center.¡±


    Franklin pulled himself together, not appreciating where his mind was taking him. He marched up to his Captain. ¡°Present, sir.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re to take your team and head east, down that street,¡± his Captain gestured to a nearby street.  ¡°Clear the street. No one is to be left alive. You¡¯ll have three tanks accompanying you and your team. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Franklin said with determination.


    ¡°Good. Radio in with updates.¡±


    Franklin nodded and returned to his team. He told them the plan, to which they all accepted without debate.


    They rendezvoused with the tanks that would be escorting them through the street.  Once together, they set out down the seemingly empty road.


    His team separated into two groups and flanked the tanks as they proceeded with caution. They had been told they¡¯d meet resistance. They were prepared for anything. Especially after they received word of the first Caledornia ambush.


    The team scanned every building tirelessly while they meandered down the street.


    Franklin felt that much more confident with a massive tank next to him, but he preferred stealth missions. He didn¡¯t appreciate warning everyone that they were coming.


    It gave them time to run.


    A precipitous cry caused him to raise his hand in a closed fist. Everyone in his team stopped. He gestured to the direction that the high-pitched whimper had come from. The man in control of the guns of the tank spun his chair and fired after a nod from Franklin. The other tanks followed suit and soon they were all firing upon the one house.


    The team on foot continued to survey the street while the tanks destroyed the building.


    When it was apparent there would be no survivors, the tank operators ceased fire. Franklin approached the building to make sure there were no survivors. He had a clear mission, after all.


    He stepped up to the shell of a home and peered inside. Based on the structural damage of the building, he wouldn¡¯t enter, but he could see the vast majority of the space from his placement anyways.


    Looking around, Franklin saw the source of the crying. There was a family. A man clinging to two small children, a third holding on to his leg. Franklin felt his stomach lurch at the sight as he tried to remind himself why they were fighting. He was there to protect his own family.


    He waited in silence for someone to cry out or move an inch. Nothing happened. He sighed before signaling to his team to move out.


    Before he followed them, however, he found a picture frame with shattered glass on the ground. He delicately grabbed the photo from it and took a closer look.


    There was a family of four. Three small children and a man. Franklin could only assume it was the same family from inside though they were unrecognizable in their current state.


    In the photo, the youngest child reminded Franklin of himself in a way. Dark curly hair and blue eyes, a sense of amazement written across his face.


    Genocide permeated its way back into his mind.


    He dropped the photo with haste, hating the results it had on his mind. He stepped over it and continued on his way.


    He never saw the small message scrawled onto the back of the picture.


    A reminder of your good ol¡¯ days in Remdia before you leave!  All the best in Caledorn. We know you¡¯ll make a killing at your new job, but we will miss you, Gabe! --- All the best, Suzanne.

 Chapter 24 - Suzanne Miller

    Suzanne sat in her office rubbing her temples with an immense pressure, the skin becoming more irritated with each rotation of her thumbs.


    She was an event manager for a hotel in Remdia. She was mostly in charge of weddings, which in themselves were a nightmare. Yet, somehow Suzanne¡¯s current stress wasn¡¯t born of bridezillas and incorrect flower arrangements.


    All her present nightmares revolved around her phone. More specifically a person she was trying to contact on her phone. She refreshed social media pages, redialed their number and even attempted to contact their place of work and friends. All of which turned out to be dead ends.


    Suzanne was slowly starting to wither and deteriorate as the road maps in her mind drew unwanted conclusions.


    She assumed her longtime friend and ex-coworker, Gabe, was dead. The back of her skull throbbed with the undeniable possibility that he had died in the war. However, without tangible proof, Suzanne wasn¡¯t the type to give up on her friends.


    Even with the news reports and death tolls rising, she didn¡¯t stop manically dragging down the screen with his name and image plastered on it and staring at the monotonous gray wheel loading the page. Time and time again.


    Gabriel Davidson. She read those two simple words in her mind for the twelfth time that hour. Memories of meeting him in university and hearing his posh accent when he introduced herself to him flooded back to her.


    Helplessly, she screamed. Then, she stood up and dragged her arm across her desk, scattering papers and pens across the entire office, like a tornado of office supplies caught up in the storm of her emotions.


    Her phone landed face down on the hardwood floor with a sinister snap. Suzanne raced to it, flipping it over with haste. There was a crack, but it was still operational.


    She gulped and refreshed the page once more.


    Her office door slammed open revealing her best friend, Mel, wielding a three-ring binder like a weapon.


    ¡°Ahhhhh!¡± The new woman screamed upon entering the disorderly room. She scanned the room, searching for a threat that didn¡¯t exist. Eventually, she lowered her eyes to the floor and saw Suzanne kneeling amidst the chaos clutching onto her phone like it was her life source.


    ¡°Oh, sweetie,¡± the newcomer cooed. ¡°Let¡¯s get you up and dusted off, shall we?¡±


    The woman dropped her makeshift weapon and approached her friend. She pulled delicately on Suzanne¡¯s elbows in an attempt to get her standing.


    Suzanne swayed a bit on her feet, but her friend was there to steady her. Mel pushed some hair out of her eyes and spoke with a gentle voice. ¡°He still hasn¡¯t responded, I take it?¡±


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    Suzanne shook her head causing a build up of tears to fall. ¡°No,¡± she whimpered.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that it means he¡¯s gone, love. He could have lost his phone or left it behind in the evacuation.¡±


    Suzanne sighed, ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to convince myself of the same thing, but no one, Mel, no one, has heard from him.¡± She shook her head more firmly, ¡°That¡¯s not like him.¡±


    ¡°I understand, but these are trying times. I hope there¡¯s a reasonable explanation, but no need to panic until you know for sure, Suz.¡± Mel tried to console her.


    ¡°Ha,¡± Suzanne chuckled sardonically. ¡°The death count has been rising exponentially since yesterday. You think they are truly going to identify everyone before I give myself a heart attack?¡±


    ¡°Suz, you gotta calm down. This was a defensive measure, not one to scoff at,¡± Mel remarked sternly.


    ¡°Mel, please don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re buying all that bullshit the internet is feeding you. It¡¯s a fucking politicians¡¯ pissing match and my friend may be fucking dead now because of it!¡± Suzanne lashed out at Mel, her sadness being overcome by rage. ¡°I mean, are you fucking kidding me? One day relations with Caledorn are tip top, then poof. We¡¯re invading because they threatened us? Where¡¯s the threat?¡±


    Mel took a step back from her friend, ¡°I get that you¡¯re upset, but-¡±


    ¡°Upset?¡± Suzanne interrupted. ¡°Is that what you think I am? I¡¯m irate. I¡¯m stressed. I¡¯m fucking livid and trying to keep myself from imploding. Upset hardly covers it, Mel.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Mel tried to regain some composure from the turning tables in the office. ¡°You¡¯re more than upset, but we aren¡¯t in the president¡¯s pocket. We have no clue what the actual threat was. But don¡¯t you have a little more faith in our government than that?¡±


    ¡°Honestly?¡± Suzanne asked.


    ¡°Always,¡± Mel responded without hesitation.


    ¡°No. No, I don''t have faith in our government. Look at any news report from Caledorn. They are dying and have no idea why.¡±


    Mel scoffed, ¡°Oh, please. And you think those new reports are any less biased? Of course, they are going to play the victim card. Why wouldn¡¯t they? Other countries will support them that way.¡±


    Suzanne stared at her friend, studying her tense and hostile features. For the first time in their friendship, Suzanne questioned what she saw in Mel. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, one that meant business and reflected her ¡°no-bullshit¡± attitude. Her pant-suit was sans wrinkles, forcing those who saw her to think ¡°perfection.¡± She differed from Suzanne in every way.


    ¡°Get out,¡± the words felt foreign and unnatural as Suzanne said them. Though her heart blazed with pride at the same time.


    ¡°What?¡± Mel asked, dumbfounded.


    ¡°Get the fuck out, Mel,¡± Suzanne stepped closer to her friend, an unmistakable intimidation present in her actions.


    Mel scoffed again. ¡°Fine, fuck you, Suz. Don¡¯t come to me with your next panic attack,¡± she spat the words and made her way to the exit.


    Suzanne watched her go, relaxing her shoulders when the door once again barricaded her from the outside world.


    With her mind reminiscent of a ping-pong ball, bouncing around from idea to idea, she grabbed her phone.


    She dialed a number and waited.


    ¡°General Miller¡¯s office, how can I assist you?¡± a secretary answered.


    ¡°Hi, can you please tell General Miller his daughter wants to speak to him,¡± Suzanne seethed with sarcastic niceties.


    ¡°Oh. Oh, of course. May I ask what this is about Miss. Miller?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll know,¡± Suzanne replied and waited for her father to pick up the phone. She had some questions that needed to be answered. She was so desperate she was even willing to call her sperm donor for the answers.

 Chapter 25 - General Ryan Miller

    General Ryan Miller was interrupted from his late afternoon bourbon by a frantic knocking on his door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he stated pleasantly.


    He saw his secretary, Penelope bustle through the door with a wild look in her eyes.


    ¡°What is it, Penelope?¡± he queried, already losing patience.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Your daughter is on line one. She doesn¡¯t seem pleased,¡± Penelope slurred the words together, forcing Ryan to focus on each syllable.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he said, knowing his daughter would have a lot to say about and very little would be good.


    Ryan swallowed the contents of his highball and sat up straighter in his chair. He reached for the phone only to notice something moving, more like twitching out of the corner of his eye. Penelope. She was bouncing from foot to foot, futzing her hands around. She was obviously uncomfortable.


    ¡°You may leave, Penelope,¡± Ryan sighed out.


    ¡°Thank you, sir. Goodbye, sir.¡± Then she rushed out the door.


    Ryan glanced back at the phone, considering just ignoring it and avoiding the call altogether. A spark of regret forced him to do the opposite.


    He answered.


    ¡°Hello, Suzy Que,¡± he spoke lightheartedly. He had always called her that, and she¡¯d always hated it. It brought a bit of joy to him though, so he continued to use it.


    ¡°Hah. Don¡¯t fucking start with that shit dad,¡± she responded.


    Ryan took a deep breath. No one dared to speak to him like that. He was a damn general after all. Most people skittered around him anxiously like Penelope. But not his daughter. His daughter was an absolute force to be reckoned with, a force Ryan found himself intimidated by. If he wasn¡¯t on the receiving end, he might have been impressed.


    ¡°Suzanne, show your father some respect,¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°That¡¯s rich. Show some respect coming from the cheating bastard I have to call my father. Don¡¯t push me, dad. I¡¯m already in a foul mood,¡± Suzanne seethed.


    Ryan gripped the phone tighter as the horrific memories tore through his mind. He had cheated on his wife, lost his family and for what? All for a woman who had deceived him with power and beauty but remained ultimately superficial throughout their years together.


    ¡°Suzanne. Please, not this again,¡± he sighed.


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    ¡°Fine. I didn¡¯t call to berate you about that anyways,¡± Suzanne conceded.


    ¡°Why did you call?¡±


    ¡°Dad, what the fuck is going on with this war? Don¡¯t bullshit me, either because I know your tells,¡± she spoke in a way that screamed no-bullshit would be accepted.


    Ryan clenched his fist but remained silent. He didn¡¯t know how to approach the topic. He had signed countless NDAs revolving around the war and even though a part of him wanted to tell his own daughter, he knew he couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°You know I can¡¯t do that, Suzanne,¡± he finally whipered.


    ¡°Ha. Of fucking course, you¡¯re sworn to secrecy. Here I was thinking this one time you¡¯d help me. Obviously I was wrong, never mind!¡±


    ¡°Suzanne, you know that I can¡¯t tell you. It¡¯s part of the job,¡± he spoke with a regretful tone.


    A distinct sob tore through the phone.


    ¡°Suzanne, kiddo, what¡¯s wrong?!¡± Ryan suddenly felt vulnerable and weak hearing those cries. He¡¯d always hated making her cry.


    ¡°Dad, Gabe just moved to Caledorn, to the western border¡­¡± She choked out the words, ¡°He hasn¡¯t been responding to my messages and I think he¡­ he might be dead.¡±


    Ryan¡¯s face was drained of all color. He had met Gabe. He wasn¡¯t aware he had moved to Caledorn, nor that he was on the western side of the country. Ryan knew if he hadn¡¯t gotten out, there was a high chance he was dead.


    ¡°Suzanne,¡± he began. He then paused to organize his thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s okay. The Remdian military has specific orders, and I¡¯m sure he wasn¡¯t caught up in it. That¡¯s all I can say.¡±


    She let out a wry laugh. ¡°Remember when I said I could read your tells?¡±


    ¡°Suzanne,¡± he started, trying to defend himself.


    ¡°No. Fuck you, dad. You know he¡¯s dead and now you¡¯re just trying to placate me. Why? I don¡¯t know. But I do know I¡¯m fucking done. I hope you¡¯ve found peace with this war, because from down here it just looks like senseless murder.¡±


    With that she hung up.


    Ryan sat with the phone still up against his ear staring at the wall across from him. Once again, he¡¯d let down his only child. Once again, he¡¯d tried to lie his way out of a difficult situation and been caught in the act.


    He slammed the phone down, annoyed beyond belief at the turn of his day. He stood up with a start and began pacing around the lavish office.


    ¡°Can I call in a favor and have someone check on Gabe? Can I check on him myself? How do I fix this?¡± he mumbled to himself.


    A quiet knock on his door pulled him from his atrocious ideas. He patted down his hair and attempted to quell his inner turmoil.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he called out, standing nonchalantly by the window.


    He didn¡¯t bother to look away from the Remdian skyline as his visitor entered the room. He had an image to uphold after all.


    ¡°Ryan,¡± a familiar voice stated. A voice Ryan was hoping not to hear that day, making him grit his teeth in response.


    ¡°Ryan, we¡¯ve got word from the teams invading on foot and by tank. They¡¯ve managed to secure the entirety of Norvern, the largest city in the west. We¡¯re moving at a rapid pace, shall we move towards the capital now?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ryan stated without hesitation. ¡°Station troops to hold the city then move to the north and south. We will want the capital surrounded before we attempt a takeover.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    The door opened and shut quickly after that. Ryan never looked away from the city.


    He grabbed his cell phone and dialed a number he hadn¡¯t thought about in a long time.


    ¡°Is this good ol¡¯ Ry calling lil ol¡¯ me. Must be important,¡± the receiver answered with a chuckle.


    ¡°Yeah, Mort, I need a favor,¡± Ryan conceded.


    ¡°This outta be good. Where¡¯s the body?¡± Mort cackled.


    Ryan sighed, one of his best friends from a dark time in his life, Mort Callahan, still hadn¡¯t changed. He was renowned for his ability to be stealthy and play both sides of the law and Ryan needed him to find someone, even it was just their corpse.

 Chapter 26 - Mort Callahan

    Mort hadn¡¯t heard from Ryan in years so when he saw his name pop up on his caller ID he couldn¡¯t refuse.


    Ryan had asked him to locate a person or a body, depending on the circumstances. One, Gabriel Davidson, was to be found and brought safely into Remdian along with his three adopted children. If he was dead, however, his remains were to be handled with care.


    Mort had no idea why Ryan was going through all the trouble of finding this one man. But, he was willing to do damn near anything for the right price.


    With his orders given and the wind at his back, Mort set out on his motorcycle to the address he¡¯d been given. Luckily, he wasn¡¯t more than a few hours'' ride from the border, so he¡¯d get there before dusk. Mort preferred night, it was the best for sneaking around and getting a job done.


    He drove through the bustling city and town streets of Remdia, nothing out of place or disturbed. Life was unscathed by the current events. The people of Remdia still felt safe.


    Mort scoffed as he drove through the ignorance and bliss of the country he called home. He knew what awaited him on the border, he had seen war before, and he was irked that more people didn¡¯t seem to give a shit about it. Out of sight, out of mind, he supposed.


    Nearing his destination, he wound through farmlands where green pastures faded into the horizon line. He lavished in the peace and serenity those rolling hills brought him. No people to contend with or be annoyed by.


    As the sun lowered, Mort saw evidence of war start to take shape. The towns he drove through were desolate, emptied ghost towns. Up ahead he could see smoke billowing in the air from recent bombings. The tar he drove on was misshapen by the weight of the tanks that had rolled through. With furrowed brows and careful maneuvers to remain unseen he forged on.


    He avoided the military base camps and drove as far as he could without arousing suspicion on his motorcycle. When he felt his bike would simply get him shot, he ditched it in a place he¡¯d remember. He might be getting paid for this errand, but not enough to leave ditch his favorite bike.


    Sliding down alleys and sticking to the shadows, Mort found himself deeper in the war zone. There were bodies strewn about, broken homes and windows. The soldiers had clearly moved through the area, laying down anything that stood in their way.


    Mort shook his head, fury building inside at all the women and children he saw slain. He might have been a certifiable madman himself, but he¡¯d never killed a child. Much less an unarmed mother holding a child. He was irate that his countrymen had resorted to such a heinous act, but deep down he remembered what it was like to take orders. He knew that feeling all too well.


    He finally found the street he was directed to go to. It looked like many of the other streets he¡¯d seen, an empty shell of the life that once lived there. He knew if the target was there, he was most assuredly dead. Chances were the man, and his children were long gone though, which meant Mort would have to hunt him down.


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    Still, he continued onwards.


    Standing in front of the small green house, Mort felt himself grow sick. This house looked particularly worse than the rest. It had been blown to smithereens and destroyed beyond comprehension.


    He stepped gently on the glass shards, trying to remain silent even though there were no signs of life to be seen. The bombs and rumbling of engines were roaring in the distance. Clearly the soldiers had moved on, but still, he took care with each step.


    Nearing the home, he pulled out a small flashlight. In the dim light, he saw his target.


    A man and three children were all dead.


    Mort sighed, both at the state of the people he¡¯d seen and for the obvious bad news he was going to have to relay to his old friend.


    He stepped into the rundown home, taking small steps and watching for any shift in structural integrity. He assumed the house was about two misteps from collapsing, so he hurried to grab the family and haul them out before that happened.


    He lifted two children at once, gritting his teeth at the fragility he felt in his hands. He carted them out of the home and gently laid them on the grass. He returned to the house two more times, once for the eldest child and once for his main target, Gabriel.


    When everyone was respectfully laid on the ground, he picked up his phone and dialed Ryan.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive, right?¡± Ryan answered without hesitation.


    Mort sighed, ¡°No. Ry. Him and his three children were killed.¡± Mort wasn¡¯t one for beating around the bush and he knew Ryan would want a straight answer anyway.


    ¡°Fuck!¡±


    Mort heard something smashing in the phone. He assumed Ryan had just thrown a glass.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring them back,¡± Mort confirmed his end of the deal.


    ¡°I know you will,¡± Ryan said before abruptly hanging up the phone.


    Mort didn¡¯t question the reaction. Obviously, his friend knew this man and that was enough to warrant a vile reaction.


    It was time to prepare the bodies for travel in a delicate manner. Mort was a man of many specific talents, but he remained superstitious. Disrespecting the dead would only lead to being haunted and tortured for the rest of your days, or so he thought.


    He ducked into a nearby home to find some sheets or fabric to wrap the bodies in. Thankfully, he found some solid-colored sheets, no flowers or childish patterns. He¡¯d imagined Ryan would have slapped him for a stunt like that.


    With the fabric in hand, he was about to return to the bodies when he heard a siren growing in volume. It sounded like an ambulance, but that would be absurd, right? He continued on with his mission and returned to the corpses laid outside.


    He began wrapping Gabriel up first, as he was the priority.


    The sirens continued to grow in volume.


    When it felt like the vehicle was on the same street, Mort laid an open sheet over the family and hid in the shadows.


    Sure enough, an ambulance pulled into view. It stopped a couple houses down from his current position.


    A tall brunette stepped out of the driver¡¯s side of the vehicle.


    ¡°Hello!¡± she yelled into the darkness.


    Mort silently tsked her ignorance, was she trying to get herself shot?


    ¡°Hello, is anyone alive out here? I¡¯ve brought medical supplies! I¡¯m a Caledornian here to help! My name is Katy! I promise I won¡¯t hurt you!¡±


    Much to his surprise, Mort found himself completely mesmerized by the irrational woman. She was trying to give aid to the people who needed it most, and he respected her for risking her own life to do it.


    When no one responded to the woman, she sighed and got back into the ambulance.


    Mort watched her drive away then continued his own mission.

 Chapter 27 - Katy Palminer

    Katy Palminer frustratedly drove through the empty streets. She knew it was dangerous and that there was a high chance she¡¯d be killed. That didn¡¯t stop her from doing what she felt was right though.


    Katy¡¯s wife was in the military and had been called upon to fight, her hospital had been evacuated and she was told to flee. She was a doctor though. She couldn¡¯t just sit on a couch somewhere and watch the news of her countrymen or family being slaughtered and not help them. It wasn¡¯t in her nature.


    So, she¡¯d stolen an ambulance from her hospital and drove straight into the areas she knew had been hit the hardest.


    Unfortunately, her fears of being too late were becoming more and more real by the  second.


    She¡¯d been driving in the remnants of the war zone for an hour, stopped to check countless pulses and had yet to see one living soul.


    Just as she was considering going back to the hospital and being useful, she saw a person waving on the side of the street. She slowed down to get a closer look. It was a teenage boy.


    Katy stopped the ambulance immediately, shutting off the siren and lights as she pulled over. She didn¡¯t want to draw attention to the victims, it was only meant to be opportunity for the victims to see her.


    She jumped out of the ambulance and ran to the teen she¡¯d seen. He was covered in stained clothing, presumably stained in blood.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re alive! Come over to the ambulance and I¡¯ll get you all fixed up,¡± she spoke warmly to the teen.


    ¡°No. No, you don¡¯t understand,¡± his pitch was high and panicked. ¡°This blood isn¡¯t mine.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Katy remained calm, knowing any tension from her would only exacerbate the situation.  ¡°Can you bring me to the person bleeding?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes!¡± the boy screamed, turning to run.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Katy yelled before he was out of sight. ¡°I have to grab my bag and supplies.¡±


    She sprinted to the vehicle and opened the back door. She fumbled around with a bunch of tools and bandages. Judging by the amount of blood on the boy, she had a tough job ahead of her.


    Katy stuffed everything she could think of into a bag and returned to the boy. He took off as soon as he saw her and she raced to follow him.


    They continued through the alley, across lawns and over fences. Katy was suddenly glad for the siren, clearly this boy had sought her out.


    He ran into a small one floor home and left the door open for her to follow.


    Katy stepped in and closed the door behind her. The house was dark, only one candle to light the whole space. She assumed that was because some power lines had been broken, but it also could have been a plan to remain hidden from soldiers.


    The boy waved his hands manically from beside the candle, ¡°Here!¡±


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    Katy quickly joined the boy on the floor and saw the patient in question. They were covered in blood and Katy questioned her own abilities at that moment. She didn¡¯t know that she¡¯d be able to save the young woman before her.


    After finding a dull pulse, Katy grabbed scissors from her bag and cut the shirt on the woman. She assessed the damage and found three bullet wounds still leaking blood. She carefully turned the woman and checked for exit wounds. There was one from the gunshot on her arm.


    Katy carefully laid the woman back down and asked the teen to put pressure on the two smaller bullet wounds. One on her shoulder and one on her upper arm. Choosing to focus her efforts on the bullet in her abdomen, Katy got to work assessing the situation.


    She pulled out a head flashlight and slipped it on to help her see. The gunshot hadn¡¯t appeared too deep which was a great relief. Katy then grabbed her disinfected tweezers and got to work.


    She worked tirelessly for hours. Retrieving the bullets, assessing the damage, sewing up what she could, and bandaging the wounds properly. She kept the wounds as clean as possible in the unsanitary room.


    All the while a teenager was scrutinizing her every move. The boy watched her the entire time, clearly judging her ability and wincing when she¡¯d sew up the woman.


    Katy wasn¡¯t opposed to making small talk with the boy to distract him from the situation, but she didn¡¯t want her attention to be divided.


    When she wrapped the final wound, Katy fell back on the floor.


    The boy looked at her, concerned. ¡°You okay, Miss?¡±


    She looked at him, ¡°Yeah, yeah. Just tired is all, sorry.¡±


    The boy shrugged and continued looking at the woman.


    ¡°Is this your mom?¡± Katy probed carefully.


    ¡°No. My sister,¡± the teen whispered, obviously concerned for her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, kiddo. She¡¯s a fighter, though,¡± Katy responded.


    ¡°We were trying to hide. She got shot before we could take cover. She fell down and I think the soldiers thought she was dead or that she¡¯d die, so they kept moving. We broke into this house because it was close.¡± His eyes widened as he realized he just confessed to a crime.


    ¡°Hey, hey, don¡¯t worry. You were very brave. I¡¯m sure the people who own this house wouldn¡¯t mind. You were just helping your sister,¡± Katy rushed to calm the boy.


    He nodded and continued his silent observation of his sister.


    For the first time, Katy looked around the house. The photos on the wall were of a happy couple, she silently prayed they managed to make it out alive. In her gaze, she noticed a landline phone. Her cellphone hadn¡¯t worked since she got to the warzone.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make a quick call. I¡¯ll be right back,¡± she said quickly.


    She stepped over to the landline and dialed the number she long since had memorized.


    ¡°Hello?¡± A stern feminine voice replied.


    ¡°Hey mom,¡± Katy sighed out in relief.


    ¡°Katy! What the hell? Where have you been? We had to leave the air strip without you!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine mom, I chose to stay. I¡¯m in the war zone, I br-¡±


    Katy¡¯s mother cut her off with a tense anger, ¡°You¡¯re where?! Don¡¯t you dare tell me you went to the war zone to try and patch up the wounded! Are you insane?!¡±


    ¡°She what?¡± Katy heard her father shout in the background.


    She rolled her eyes and waited for her mother to explain the half story to her father before she spoke again. She knew trying to interrupt them and explain would be only be pointless.


    ¡°Katy! What in the hell is going on?¡± her father¡¯s gruff voice suddenly overtook the phone¡¯s speaker.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t do nothing, dad,¡± she tried to defend her stance.


    ¡°Katy, you know this is foolish. Get out of there. NOW! Get to the airport, we¡¯ll pick you up!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said sternly. ¡°I¡¯m staying.¡±


    A crash of the front door startled Katy causing her to drop the phone. A pair of soldiers appeared in the doorway. Katy instantly blamed herself for speaking too loudly or for using the headlamp.


    She glanced at the terrified teen and said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Countless aggressive cracks from the firearms echoed out.


    When it was silent once more, all three of them, Katy, the teenager and his sister, were killed. Their bodies riddled with bullet holes not even the best doctor could have saved them from.


    The soldiers left without ever hearing the screaming coming from the phone.


    The phone gently swung in the air, hanging by its coiled cord.


    Katy¡¯s father screamed, ¡°This is President Zeke Palminer! I demand someone tells me what the fuck is going on! Katy! KATY! Answer me!¡±

 Chapter 28 - President Zeke Palminer

    The president of the Caledornian nation, Zeke Palminer sat on a plane departing the country. His wife¡¯s cell phone clutched tightly in his hand.


    ¡°Katy!¡± he screamed once more. Again, there was no answer.


    He had heard the gunshots. He knew there was a high chance his daughter had just been murdered while he was left to listen to it. But his heart wouldn¡¯t let him give up hope so easily.


    ¡°Katy!¡±


    ¡°Zeke, what is going on?¡± his wife cried while clutching onto his arm.


    Zeke wasn¡¯t sure if she had heard the gunshots, but he assumed she had, they had been loud.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he responded, looking at the phone.


    He wasn¡¯t sure what to make of the events. Was this all a dream? First, his nation was invaded, and his citizens were slaughtered. Then his daughter was murdered in cold blood for trying to save some lives?


    Zeke felt his heart rate increasing. His temples began to throb with an excruciating hunger to end this god forsaken war.


    He passed his wife¡¯s phone back to her, ¡°Stay on the line. Alert me if Katy responds.¡±


    He knew his tone was harsh, but he would apologize later. At that moment, he had more pressing matters to attend to. He stood up and looked at all his cabinet members, his trusted advisors and his military generals that aided his decisions. Lastly, he looked at his vice president.


    ¡°Let¡¯s end this god forsaken war,¡± he said.


    With that, he walked to the back of the plane where there was a meeting room. The room had a large oval table and chairs for all the people on the plane.


    One by one his most trusted political confidants entered the room. They each took seats around the table.


    ¡°What are our options?¡± he prompted as soon as the door was closed.


    All at once, people around the table started shouting options.


    Attack them, send all our efforts to reclaim the western border, cut off the groups that are spreading to the north and south, meet them head on.


    All the options sounded mundane to what Zeke wanted. He wanted to find the man or men who¡¯d just shot his daughter and torture them within an inch of their lives. He wasn¡¯t above petty revenge, but he managed to keep that idea contained in front of his peers.


    He looked at each member of his team as they debated with one another. He raised his hand and slowly, everyone silenced.


    ¡°What¡¯s the best way to counteract them at this stage?¡± Zeke asked, looking at the military members at the table.


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    ¡°It¡¯s a little too late to meet them head on in Remdia,¡± a four-star general started to explain. ¡°They have the advantage of tanks and planes to intercept any team trying to get close to them. I reckon the best bet is to bring the fight to Remdia. Hit them where it hurts in an attempt to draw their soldiers out of Caledorn.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Zeke nodded. ¡°And how do you propose we do that?¡±


    There was a beat of silence before one brave soul said the words they were all dreading.


    ¡°Arm the nuclear missiles. Launch them all at the capital.¡±


    Most people in the room winced at the mere thought of it, but Zeke knew it was the most sensible step. He needed it to be someone else¡¯s idea though so he wouldn¡¯t sound irrational.


    ¡°Is that the only option?¡± he asked, more for show than anything.


    ¡°Not the only option sir, but definitely the best one. They will definitely retreat after that,¡± his vice president responded.


    ¡°And if they hit us back with the same attack?¡± Zeke queried.


    ¡°Many of our citizens have already left, we¡¯re ahead of their large-scale attacks because of the evacuation,¡± the four-star general stated.


    ¡°Alright, get me the briefcase,¡± he said.


    No one moved for a moment, still unsure of how it all came to this.


    Zeke knew he was partly to blame for the unfortunate events that had taken place. In his attempts to keep relations with Remdia beneficial he had tried to strike up a deal. He wanted money, as Caledorn was severely in debt. In return, they¡¯d give a portion of their oil reserves to Remdia.


    The deal had been working perfectly until the oil reserves started getting smaller. Zeke had assumed they¡¯d last a century, but suddenly they were drying up. The cost of supplying two nations apparently.


    Each month, Caledorn would give Remdia less and less oil in an attempt to save some for themselves.


    The Remdian president had threatened a war if the quantity of oil kept decreasing. Zeke had tried to explain that there wasn¡¯t as much as they had once thought. That his own country would suffer if he gave the agreed upon amount.


    The Remdian president didn¡¯t care. He saw it as a promise not kept. So, he invaded. To both teach Zeke a lesson and to take over control of the oil mines.


    Zeke had spent countless hours attempting to make a new deal, but all trust in him had been tainted. The Remdian government refused to listen to his pleas.


    Eventually, he accepted the war and began to fight back, but he knew it was too little too late. He had already lost the war and his country would suffer.


    Finally, the briefcase was placed in front of him. Closed and locked.


    Zeke opened the secure package with his fingerprints. It clicked when it unlocked, a click that was deafening in the silence of the room.


    Zeke lifted one side and looked at the contents of the briefcase. There were two key holes, a blinking map and a small keyboard.


    He looked at his general and gestured for him to enter in the proper coordinates.


    The general obliged and tapped away on the keyboard. He turned the case back to the president when the screen prompted another fingerprint to confirm the destination.


    Zeke placed his finger on the pad and waited.


    [Confirmed: Location Input Valid]


    Zeke took off his watch and pulled a small key from the band. His vice president took a chain from around his neck. At the end of the chain there was a small key attached.


    Both men looked at each other, nodded, then turned to the keyholes. They placed their keys in the designated holes and took a deep breath.


    Turning their keys simultaneously, they heard two sequential clicks.


    The screen prompted for two fingerprints this time, one from each man. After then both pressed their fingers on the pad, they leaned away from the device. They watched, unable to look away as a little green dot moved across the map, towards Remdia.


    [Countdown to Target: 15 seconds]


    The room was silent, many of the members had gathered around behind the two most powerful men in the nation to look at the screen. Others wept at their seats at the table.


    The countdown continued while Zeke stared.


    [Countdown to Target: 1 second]


    For Katy, he thought, I hope your country feels my wrath, Frederick Sanderson.


    [Target Impact Confirmed]

 Chapter 29 - President Frederick Sanderson

    President Frederick Sanderson stood in his presidential suite feeling somewhat pleased with himself. He wasn¡¯t a man to be trifled with, and Caledorn had pushed him to his breaking point.


    He had been livid when the shipments of oil had decreased in size. He had thought the Caledornian president was taking him for a fool. Like he wouldn¡¯t notice he was being screwed over on a previously made negotiation? Absurd.


    Frederick had tried to remain composed. He reached out to Zeke Palminer in an attempt to handle the situation with poise. But, that sneaky bastard had told him the oil wells were drying up and he needed oil to support his own country. Frederick didn¡¯t buy it, he felt something amiss and took action.


    He¡¯d called upon an outright invasion.


    His closest colleagues and administration knew it was for the oil but his soldiers were told a different story. They were told Caledorn was intending on invading Remdia and this was a preemptive act to stop them. Frederick didn¡¯t mind lying to his men, he was doing what was best for them anyways. They needed oil in Remdia, the country would start seeing the impacts of collapse if they couldn¡¯t supply their demand. Frederick was willing to do anything to support his country. Anything.


    There Frederick sat, a smug smile upon his face because of the progress report he¡¯d just received. The Caledornian president had fled, they were in control of the western side of the country and well on their way to overthrow both northern and southern quarters of the country as well.


    Frederick was pleased, he couldn¡¯t have expected this to go any smoother. He had anticipated to meet more resistance, but it turned out the Caledornia president was quite spineless. He had called countless times to discuss treaties. Too little, too late, Frederick thought as he denied each attempt.


    He twirled a pen between his fingers, letting the round plastic flip through his joints with ease. He looked out the window of his room, watching the citizens of his country walk about and continue on with their lives. It was as if his country wasn¡¯t aware of the war, that¡¯s how safe they felt.


    A sharp knock on the door caused him to catch the pen between his thumb and forefinger. He spun his chair towards the door and welcomed his guest.


    ¡°Enter.¡±


    A tall slender woman, a trusted advisor, entered with an exasperated look on her face. ¡°You¡¯re needed in the boardroom, sir.¡±


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    ¡°Is everything okay?¡± he asked with intrigue.


    ¡°Quite frankly, I¡¯m not equipped to explain what has transpired. Please, come, quickly.¡±


    Frederick wasn¡¯t used to being commanded in this way. He assumed Caledorn had finally started fighting back, not that it would be the end of the world, but it would cause more deaths of his own citizens.


    With his previous good mood gone, he stood up, pulled the cuffs of his suit down and followed his advisor to the boardroom.


    Within the room, there was absolute mania unfolding. People were shouting and running wildly around the room. Frederick suddenly felt that there was a much bigger problem at play.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he asked, his voice deep and gravely.


    Everyone stopped speaking in an instant.


    ¡°Sir, we¡¯ve just received word. There¡¯s been activity around the station that houses Caledornia¡¯s nuclear missiles!¡±


    ¡°Where are they headed?¡± Frederick jumped into action. He had hoped the Caledornian president would remain scared through the invasion. He hadn¡¯t expected this level of escalation. For the first time since he conjured the idea to invade, he was terrified of the outcome.


    ¡°We¡¯re not sure yet sir, we are attempting to track them now.¡±


    ¡°Are there troops nearby to stop them from within?¡± he asked, starting to sweat profusely.


    ¡°No, we have no one within miles. They¡¯ll never get there in time!¡±


    ¡°Sir!¡± A new voice called, ¡°We¡¯ve found them. Oh¡­ Fuck.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Frederick roared.


    ¡°They are all headed here. Directly to the capital!¡±


    ¡°Intercept them! Shoot them down! Now!¡± He stepped to the computer screen, almost as if he was double checking the observation made. He saw ten missiles on the computer, their trajectory all headed for the city he was in.


    ¡°We¡¯ll never get them all, sir!¡± Another person yelled out.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± he screamed. ¡°Hit as many as we can. Fire back. Send everything we¡¯ve got. Hit all their major cities.¡±


    The people in the room began running around following the orders of their president.


    Frederick watched the screen intensely, knowing this was almost assuredly the end of his life as well as his entire administration. But, he wouldn¡¯t go down without a fight.


    His palms were slick with fear as he watched the dots move across the screen.


    ¡°We¡¯ve shot down three!¡± someone cried. Frederick wasn¡¯t sure if it was a panicked cry or a celebratory one. To be honest, he didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Sir, we¡¯ve sent word to our teams in the country to continue their efforts. We¡¯ve launched five missiles at their largest cities and we¡¯re still attempting to shoot down the remaining seven missiles headed this way.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± his tone gave away the defeat he felt. He knew this was the end. There was no more time.


    He straightened his back and approached the window. He looked to the skies, awaiting the arrival of the missiles.


    After a few seconds, he saw the first one. Then three. Then five. Finally, seven.


    He took a deep breath watching them near.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whispered.


    President Frederick Sanderson¡¯s final words would be ones of regret as the missiles descended on the city he had grown up in.

 Chapter 30 - Final Moments

    Phil


    Phil saw the massive shape of the missile coming long before it hit. He ran into his home and ushered his whole family to the basement. His mother-in-law, and grandparents had been staying with them. Phil pushed them along trying not to be impatient with their slow pace.


    Phil slammed the basement door shut, hoping the tiny timber would somehow save their lives. He knew it was a long shot but was something.


    Huddled in a group in their basement, Phil and his family waited for the inevitable. The violently shaking ground was the last thing any of them felt, as they screamed out for help.


    Lance


    Lance was riding his bike to work. He had been trying to be more eco-friendly in recent years. Beneath his helmet, his headphones were playing some mellow jazz music. With both layers pressed up against his ears he didn¡¯t hear the chaotic cries of people in the streets.


    Slowly, he started to notice their panic though. Everyone on the street had stopped to point at the sky. Curiosity getting the best of him, Lance stopped to have a look.


    He glanced up just in time to see the bright lights of the fiery missile headed directly for him. He hopped back on his bike and pedaled his heart out. The heat incinerated him before he crossed the street.


    Leslie


    Leslie was sitting on a plane trying to flee from the war in Caledorn. She was praying it would end soon, but she didn¡¯t want to wait until that happened.


    She held a little pet carrier on her lap. Inside was her small and old cat, her longest friend. She would never have left Mr. Stinks behind. Leslie pet his head through the wire of the cage, looking out the window.


    Suddenly, the other side of the plane seemed to pull the whole aircraft down. Leslie looked to her left and saw a massive hole in the plane where a missile had skimmed it. Just then she and her cat were ripped from their seats.


    Jazz


    Jazz was sitting in the car with the females of her family. They were fleeing the country like they¡¯d been told to do. The men however were told to stay behind and fight. Jazz¡¯s older brother was only a year older and a lot less mature. She worried about the safety of her twenty-year-old sibling.


    Her mother, aunt and sister were singing to the radio. They were blissfully ignoring the situation at hand and attempting to lighten the mood.


    Jazz saw the plane first. She screamed to her mother to turn the car in another direction, but it was too late. The bomb dropped on the road three cars ahead of them.


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    Jazz could do nothing but watch as the explosion engulfed her and her family.


    Nial


    Nail raised his gun to the Caledornian man, he was clearly homeless and hiding under a cardboard box in an alley. He had been told to kill everyone he saw, but this felt extreme. The man was clearly unarmed, he posed no threat.


    The man begged for his life as he looked down the barrel of Nial¡¯s weapon. Again, Nial hesitated, unable to pull the trigger. He shook his head to rid himself of the chaotic thoughts in his head.


    In that split second, the homeless man had thrown an unseen hatchet at Nial. It cleaved into his neck and shoulder, hitting a main artery.


    The man screamed apologies as he ran away. As Nial bled out in the alley, he saw the man gunned down by his comrades.


    Kendra


    Kendra jogged through the forest behind her house. She was aware of the war but was convinced Remdia was winning and thus she¡¯d have nothing to worry about. She was on the winning side of this war and had the luxury of not stressing out because of it.


    She ducked her head under branches and hopped over roots. She almost fell twice but managed to catch herself.


    She glanced up to make sure she wasn¡¯t going to hit another branch. She didn¡¯t see a branch, she just saw a fiery wall tearing through the world around her.


    She didn¡¯t even get a chance to run. She died right there, in the middle of the woods.


    Amy


    Amy wept in a corner. She tried to stay quiet, knowing the red soldiers were right outside her window. She still made muffled cries though, it couldn¡¯t be helped.


    Her brother¡¯s body laid on the ground in front of her, dead. He had been shot through the window of their home when he peered through the curtains.


    She heard her front door slam open. Her whole body vibrated with fear as she heard footsteps nearing her location.


    The soldier walked into her room and Amy screamed. He shot her brother once more then shot her in the head.


    Monty


    Monty was on the 23<sup>rd</sup> floor of a massive office building. He was filing paperwork in a windowless office. He wasn¡¯t unhappy with his job, but he wasn¡¯t happy either. He just existed.


    He dreamed of finding a job that allowed him to travel. Monty got caught up in the daydream. He imagined blogging about his experiences as he drank Pina Coladas on a beach.


    His dream abruptly ended when he heard a screech from the main office. He ran out to help whoever was in need.


    The building started to shake and rumble before he could check on his coworker. He was crushed between the steel and cement of the building. The last thing he saw was that windowless room.


    Arthur


    Arthur had begged his partner to go to Remdia. The city life was meant to be amazing. They were from a neighboring country and had never seen the likes of a big city.


    They had been there for a few weeks when the war broke out. To the rest of the world, Remdia was the guilty party in the war, so all their flights home were canceled. Arthur was on the phone with his consulate trying to find a way out of the country before matters escalated further.


    His partner walked in the room and left a chaste kiss of support.


    Neither saw the missile coming, both died instantly in their hotel, still trying to find a way home.


    Victorie


    Victorie stumbled through the street. She had survived the bombing, but she was gravely injured. Her head swam with confusion as she walked, disorientated. She saw all the rubble of the buildings.


    The blood from her wounds left a dripping pattern in the mayhem behind her. She fell to her knees looking at the death that surrounded her.


    People laid everywhere, all dead. It was silent for Victorie, bar the incessant ringing in her ears. Nothing made sense. Her whole world had ended in a matter of minutes. One false promise, one bad decision, one bomb. It had escalated to a point of no return.


    Victorie laid down on the ground, surrounded by death.


    Her eyes looked at the bloodshed before her, only permeated by a sudden burst of light.