“
Do not touch that radio, Lieutenant.
” Sharp snapped, aiming a bony finger at him.
“Or what?” Daniel narrowed bloodshot eyes, gesturing for Anders to do it.
A loud bang, hard enough for him to feel it in his chest, scared the shit out of Daniel and the others. It took him a solid second to realize he was painted red in Lt. Anders’ blood, and that was because Cpt. Rambo had shot him. Now the gun was aimed at Daniel. Another gunshot and the poorly named officer lost the back of his head before Daniel could draw the pistol from his thigh holster.
A jet roared overhead and released its ordinance. The bombs did exactly what they were designed to do, and just as Anders had protested they tore an entire bus to shreds. The civilian leadership of Lincoln was onboard that bus, and later Daniel would realize that was why the airstrike had happened in the first place. The town of Lincoln was not going to become a Rebel stronghold, the Administration had made certain of that.
Sharp
, had made certain of that. He wasn’t, however, going to sacrifice Daniel for the plan. He was too well connected.
Daniel heard the echo of the explosions outside the walls. Since he’d managed to draw his pistol, he raised it at Sharp. “I quit… And if I ever see you again, I’ll fucking kill you. Now get out of my fucking TOC, and don’t come back until I’m gone.”
Sharp didn’t say anything. He holstered his pistol and left the room, careful to step on Rambo’s chest as he went through the door. Lieutenant Donovan knelt down next to Anders. They were closer than Daniel was with either, but he knew how it felt. Anders was well and truly dead, Rambo had shot him in the temple at nearly point blank range, but what disturbed Daniel more than anything was that it wasn’t Sharp who’d tried to stop Anders, but Sharp’s second. What had they been ordered to do that was somehow above the Lt’s paygrades? Who could possibly hold enough sway over a captain or a major to make them willingly assassinate innocent people? Their
own
people no less. These were indeed dark times.
Chapter 16
The most easily definable difference between being a Civilian and being a Soldier is if you don’t like your job anymore in the real world, you can just quit. That’s always an option, nobody can make you stay. On the flipside, when you wear a uniform that option is off the table 99.9% of the time. Officers can resign almost any time they like so long as they’ve served an initial tour, which Daniel had not, but enlisted men were contractually indentured servents until such time as this contract expires or the Military deems you unfit for service. Probably because of who he was related to and the possibility of a media fiasco, the United States Army strongly suggested to First Lieutenant Daniel Sawyer that his services were no longer required and after returning to Warren AFB he quietly submitted his resignation to the appropriate office. Probably at Major Sharp’s behest his paperwork was expedited and before he’d had a chance to tell his mother he was back in town he was officially no longer a Soldier.
Just like that it was all over. No ceremony, no final speeches. Just a signature and a stamp and the Army keeps rolling along. Packing what few personal belongings he had in his quarters, Daniel didn’t make a show about leaving the Army’s dirty little section of Warren AFB, he just faded out the back gate and took his time walking back to his mother’s house. What else was he supposed to do, where should he go? Join the Air Force or find a way to get out to sea? Did he even want to wear a uniform anymore? That might be an even better question. As far as anyone was concerned his battle was over. He’d put more into fighting the war than most ever would, why shouldn’t he just get a job at a burger shack and live happily ever after?
A black SUV did a rather dangerous looking U-turn in the middle of a crowded street full of pedestrians and started pulling up on Daniel. Not paying it much mind, other than figuring the driver was an asshole, he kept walking until he noticed someone was walking behind him attempting to get noticed. He turned around and eyeballed the suspiciously clean looking man in a black suit, his hand hovering over a holstered gun. Everyone else in this filthy hole of humanity looked like they’d survived an apocalypse. This guy was almost sickeningly untouched by recent events, and only the Cadillac’s tire treads were dirty yet.
“Who the fuck are you?” Daniel asked impatiently. “I didn’t order an Uber car.”
“Lieutenant Daniel Sawyer?” The suited man asked, his reflective sunglasses gleaming light into Daniel’s eyes. He nodded that indeed this was his name and the man continued. “My name is Oliver Saint, I’m with the Secret Service.”
“Good for you. I’m with… well probably nobody now. I don’t think my crush is into lazy gamers that work at pizza shacks and smoke weed all day.”
The agent smiled, which was totally opposite what Daniel was expecting. “We didn’t mean to approach you like this, we thought we’d catch you still at your former barracks, but as I’m sure you can tell, traffic in the city is a nightmare.”
“That’ll happen when half the population lives in the streets.” Daniel said flatly.
Agent Saint didn’t appear affected by the comment. “I didn’t want to have this chat in front of General Brown, her notion is to bring you into her personal staff in order to keep you insulated from the fallout over the incident at Lincoln.”
“…however?” Daniel prodded. He wasn’t in a hurry to “step into the blue.”
“However, my section chief has authorized me to make you an offer.”
“I’m not sure I’d be very good at running a prostitution and coke ring. Besides, isn’t Columbia kinda overrun these days?”
Saint did laugh this time. “See, you
are
clever, and that’s exactly what the Secret Service is looking for right now. Think of it this way, you can go back to your Mother and let her protect you…”
“Or I could join you guys and learn how to run coke and handle my bitches?”
“You really are just a laugh a minute, Mr. Sawyer.” Agent Saint handed him a card. “If you change your mind. We need smart people, good people with a sense of right and wrong for this job. It’s not just standing around pretending you’re James Bond during presidential speeches. It’s a serious job, one that is more a calling than just a duty. We protect the
Office
of the President of the United States, not just the individual occupying it. Whether or not you like him, or even one day her, it’s the job of the Secret Service to make certain the Continuity of Government continues and that the People have a leader. You did excellent work with 1
st
VR, I don’t think that nasally little prick Sharp could have pulled it off without men like you, or even you specifically.”
“I’m done with that part of my life. I’m sorry.” Daniel turned to start walking again.
“Just because the video feed Major Sharp and Captain Rambo were talking to went blank, Mr. Sawyer, doesn’t mean nobody was watching.”
Daniel turned back around. “Video feed?”
“Who do you think Major Sharp was taking orders from? Let’s just say the big man in the bunker was quite impressed by the stance you and Lt. Anders took, even if it flew in the face of political expedience. If he hadn’t been killed by Sharp’s second in command, we’d be making this same offer to Anders right now.” Saint started walking to his car and got in without looking back. “POTUS didn’t order that airstrike, Mr. Sawyer. There was much debate in the bunker, and just because the strike was launched, doesn’t mean nobody appreciated your attempt to stop it. This is why we want you. You will, even at your own peril, do the right thing.” He got in the SUV and put his seatbelt on without looking flustered.
“Should I go, Sir?” The driver asked.
“Wait for it…” Saint smiled again, and as if on queue the door opened on the other side and Daniel slid in. “You can drive now.”
The tinted windows might have meant the people on the outside couldn’t see in, but that didn’t mean Daniel didn’t hate himself for being in this luxurious vehicle deep in the heart of the largest homeless encampment in human history. Dirty children playing in filth were everywhere, God knows how many of them were orphans. They were starving, and he was being invited to live among the king’s court. What fucking justice was this?
“This isn’t exactly what I was expecting.” Daniel admitted, sitting next to Agent Saint in a nondescript office deep inside Cheyenne Mountain.
“I’m afraid the Secret Service doesn’t exactly have the same budgetary freedoms as in the movies. God, if only we had S.H.I.E.L.D.’s fiscal allowance.” He looked at Daniel with a slight smirk. “You know what I could do with a fuckin’ C-17 that can take off and land vertically? Just imagine.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “That show was overrated and really dark despite its attempts to be kid-friendly. I liked the movies better.”
Saint nodded. “They’re going to make more when the plague is wiped out. Stan Lee survived, you know. He lives in Sector Nine with other citizens who have private security. Seems Disney won’t let one of their prized possessions get eaten like that one girl, what was her name? Meh, the most recent Mickey Mouse Club train wreck, whoever she was. Total media fiasco, made the pullout of DC even worse than it needed to be.” They’d been waiting for the next Agent above Saint to arrive for Daniel’s interview for almost an hour, leaving Daniel with literally nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs.
“And how did it
need
to be, Agent Saint? Because I was there. I saw the hordes overrun the capital, I saw people panicking and killing each other. And do you know who was the worst amongst them?
Us
. The Government. The ‘good’ guys. A friend of mine was killed by a FEMA search party. They were just looting too by then, and he got in their way. What about anything you’re showing me here actually has anything to do with doing the right thing? Protecting one man doesn’t seem like a very helpful thing to do right now.” Daniel was considering leaving.
“Not when you look at it from the perspective of pure numbers. That mentality has never made sense. But this isn’t a numbers game. It’s a survival game, and what we’re fighting for is the survival of the United States of America and possibly even Human Civilization itself. The part we play in contributing to that survival is making certain the leader of the Free World doesn’t come to harm. Right now, losing the President himself would be more crushing to our cause than losing an entire army. It’s not that
he
is special, but it’s that his place among the people is. If the head of the beast is cut off, what is the body left to do but die?”
Daniel nodded. “Guess it’s a bad time to make a Hydra reference?”
“The worst.”
Another agent in a black suit and white shirt opened the office door and made quickly for his seat. “Agent Saint, you’re dismissed. Your team still has four other candidates to round up I do believe.”
“Yessir.” Saint got up and walked out after patting Daniel on the shoulder. “Don’t stress it. The time for that will come sooner rather than later.”
“Get out, Mr. Saint.” His superior’s voice raising an octave as warning. Gruff and old looking, this guy was exactly the face Hollywood would have used for his own character in a movie. “So you’re Annette’s son, huh?”
“General Annette Brown is my mother, yes.”
“You seem upset by her name, Mr. Sawyer. Tell me, why is your last name different from General Brown’s?”
“My mother remarried.”
“I see.”
“And who exactly are you? I get you’re Secret Service, but I think I’m due an introduction.”
Finally looking up from Daniel’s file the senior agent cleared his throat. “My name is Deputy Chief Raymond Wilcox, I’m in charge of replenishing our ranks…” He looked back down at the file. “In case you didn’t know, the Secret Service has suffered more losses, by percentage, than any other unit still in operation. Most of our losses were suffered in DC and at overseas installations, however, we’re still here and we still have a job to do. I don’t want you to think you’re particularly special, Mr. Sawyer, because frankly I’ve seen more qualified candidates forget where the front door was on their way out.” Daniel didn’t resist the urge to smile. He had long ago decided not to take this seriously. “At any rate, you do come with several glowing recommendations, and one incredibly bad one…”
“I’ll consider that last black mark a badge of honor.” Daniel folded his arms. He knew his body language and responses were being gauged not only for correct content, but for any sign of deceit. At this point though, Daniel had nothing to lie about, or so he thought.
Deputy Chief Wilcox went on as if Daniel hadn’t spoken. “You’re described as patriotic, loyal, capable and…” This time the old fart almost broke a smile. Almost. “And
tactless
.”
“I didn’t have time to be everyone’s friend. I had a war to fight.”