Last War (16 page)

     A
beep from the alarm system sounded, informing the girls that someone had just walked through the front door of their house. A separate alert indicated an opening of the back door.

    
Both doors pounded closed within seconds of each other.

    
The women froze.

     For a minute, there was silence.
With no warning, footsteps began barreling up the steps stomping at a rapid sprinting pace.

    
In a frenzy, both girls sped to the window. There wasn’t enough room for both of them to get through, so Christine let Clareese go out the window first.

    
The steps continued to quickly approach.

    
"Slide, slide, slide!" Christine whispered urgently.

    
As Christine stepped her foot out of the window she heard the footsteps reach the top of the stairs. Her foot stepped on the top of Clareese’s head.

    
"SLIDE!!" she fussed, tapping her foot on Clareese.

    
The man kicked in through the door, sending shards of wood sprinkling into the bedroom. The first thing Christine saw charge into the room was a .45 caliber pistol.

    
The man let off three gunshots.



11:58pm

    
Jason glanced at his watch. The time was coming. “Jason, your sedation period has been reached.” Sirus said. “Your dopamine has exceeded normal levels.”

    
He had his handheld device prepared to feed him video from the surveillance cameras. The device was set to record complete vital signs – humans and atmosphere -- anything that could be accessed through the satellites and drones. He had an invisible earpiece, which was actually a sound projector synced with his device. He had programmed his device to speak to him via a direct soundbeam from his device into his ear because physical earpieces impeded his ability to hear the reality around him. While it was virtually undetectable in reality, it was still susceptible to being intercepted.

    
He was receiving various signals from all of the feeds in the DHS building. The first, and main, channel that he had his ear piece set to, received the signal from the DHS guard’s walkie-talkies. With just those items, Jason was prepared to walk into that building like he had never left.

    
After another forty minutes of preparation, he gathered his backpack, and started on his walk to the building. The intermittent, static, garble in his ear indicated small amounts of activity in the building.

    
The previous twenty minutes were completely silent. There were no transmissions.
The guards are struggling to stay awake – or just plain sleep.

    
He walked a brisk constant pace towards the building. It was lit up with white lights in the quiet darkness of northern D.C. at 12:39 a.m.

    
He saw the guard sitting at his post at the desk by the front door.

     “Sirus, make me invisible.”

     In his ear, he heard Sirus respond. “Bodychip deactivated. No technology will detect you for the next sixty minutes.”

    
A tingle in his left wrist left a numbness in his thumb and index finger.

    
As he approached the building, he wondered if it were common knowledge that he was on the run. Probably not.

    
Equipped with his badge, he was prepared to walk past the guard like he had done so many other times in his career.

    
But, he didn’t recognize the guard. Not one ounce.

    
He didn’t recognize any of the few people walking out of that building.

    
He approached the door and pulled out his security badge to swipe. The badge swiper next to the door beamed a brilliant red. The thought crossed Jason’s mind, that even if none of the support employees knew his dilemma, there is no way the big guys left his card active, or untraced.

    
As Jason moved in to risk his life swiping his badge, the light changed to vibrant green. He looked up into the guards beaming grin. The guard waved him in.

    
Hesitantly, Jason opened the door.

    
"Hey old friend. No need for you to fumble with your things, I got it. Hey, sir, we missed you these last few days, is everything ok?"

    
Jason still didn’t recognize the guard. His body language and his facial expressions indicated that the guard was genuinely ignorant to anything going on.
But, how does he know my name?

    
"Yeah,” Jason responded. “Everything is fine.”

    
He didn’t know if he should proceed, but his body language training told him the guard, somehow, knew him, and suspected nothing.

    
When in a crucial jam and doubt pops up, Jason’s mentor used to tell him, ‘trust the gauges -- like a pilot.’ Jason responded to the guard, “I took the last couple days off, for personal reasons."

    
"That's OK, man. I know what that's like. You’re the hardest working man I know. Enjoy your night. Keep up the great work protecting us."

    
The irony.

    
"’Til death.” Jason added, “Hey, brotha, don't let anyone know I'm in here, OK? This is a national security issue, got it?"

    
The man put up his right hand. "I've never let you down yet, have I?"

    
Jason nodded in acknowledgment, then headed for the stairwell.

     “No elevator today?” The deskman shouted out.

     “Nah. Good old exercise for the sake of the old woman.”

    
As he ran up the stairs two steps at a time he heard the first bit of garble from the guards in his ear.

    
"10-18 I think we have a possible 10-90. Have you seen GL? He hasn't clocked out and we haven't heard from him since he cleared his round on southwest PL B. Over."

     "That’s a 10-50. H
e hasn't logged the rest of his round into the system either. Over."

    
"Maybe we should go check it out."

     "10-4. I’m on it.
Over and out."

    
Jason wondered if they would stumble upon his Mercedes or the guard’s body in the trunk. Moreover, he wondered how long that guard would stay knocked out. He only had a limited amount of time.

    
Jason finally reached the desired floor. He approached the door with caution. Peeking out of the small crack he left from quietly pushing the door open, a bit, he saw the whole floor – cold, quiet and dark.

     S
lowly, Jason slipped into the hallway and carefully shut the stairwell door behind him. As soon as the door hit the latch, he heard footsteps slapping against a concrete surface echoing in the stairwell running up the steps.

    
Jason scurried into a room directly across the hall from the stairwell. As he fumbled to close the door, he felt for the lock. The footsteps came bursting through the stairwell doors and charging to the room he had taken refuge in.

    
The handle jiggled ferociously. Jason heard more transmission in his ear.

    
"Is there someone in the 4
th
floor north wing bathroom? Over."

    
Each guard responded to the request through the walkie-talkie. "I'm not."

"N
ope."

"Nah.
"

"N
ot me."

"I
'm in the 2
nd
floor southwest bathroom."

The guard shook the handle more.

"Well, the 4
th
floor north wing bathroom is locked."

    
Turning off his sound projector, Jason tried his best to stay as silent as possible. Over the guard’s radio on the other side of the concrete door, he heard a respond message:

    
"Well maybe someone accidentally locked it on the way out, just use the bathroom at the south wing."

    
The guard sputtered down the hallway and around the corner.

    
Jason turned on his ear transmitter to hear the guard’s fellow workers make fun of his personal emergency. 

    
"Run, Forrest, run." Said one guard over the transmission.

    
Jason cracked open the door only to hear the guard’s footsteps patter further away.

    
Once the footsteps became almost completely muffled Jason emerged from the bathroom. His device was ready to lead him to Tameka's old lab. He slowly followed the directions as it lead him down the slightly illuminated hallways of the DHS.

    
He saw an American flag on the right at the end of the hallway across from a small indoor tree. A picture hung on the wall of George Washington at the three way intersection. When he reached the intersection, Tameka's lab was the third door on the left.

     As did all of the labs, it
had a swiper. He couldn't risk swiping his own card, at this time. It was crucial that he got into that room, as quick as possible, however.

    
Jason looked the opposite way -- to the right -- down the hallway and saw the guard’s jacket and swipe card hanging outside of the south wing bathroom. It was probably a good thirty yard walk.

   
 
Jason tip-toed a few steps down the long hall. Approaching the intersection he arrived there from, he peeked around the corner.

    
Silence. A sudden fart off in the distance made him jump.

    
After a chuckle, he very quickly, but as quietly as possible, tip-toed across the intersection to inch to within only 20 feet away.  The badge hung still; flipped backwards.
Only a few more steps.

    
Jason's brain shuffled away at thoughts analysing every intricate detail of his mission. The man really had to go, so it wasn't going to be a quick stop in the bathroom. He would need some time. He listened, intently, to any noises besides the sounds of nature taking place in that bathroom. Finally he reached only ten feet away; he listened for the toilet paper to roll out – it hadn’t -- he listened for...

    
The flush!

    
It hit him so quick he didn't know how to respond. After a brief freeze in the middle of the hallway, he skipped the rest of the ten feet under the flushing sound of the toilet. His only hiding place would be behind the bathroom door when the guard came out. He was going to have to fight the guard.

    
He waited behind the hinged side of the door, which was soon to open anytime, soon. He listened. He looked around for a better plan – a better place to hide. The hallway was long, straight, and mostly bare and vacant. There was no place to go. He heard the toilet flush die down, but he didn't hear footsteps, or the sink turn on. He waited another few seconds before he heard another fart echo off of the bowl of the toilet.

    
It was a courtesy flush.
He's still going.

    
Jason quietly grabbed the card and started back down the hallway. His movements were a lot faster, this time. He reached the three way intersection again.

    
He reached the door of Tameka's old office room, 4-1977. He slid the I.D. card and the red light changed to a flashing green light of approval.

    
Jason slid into the room, took a picture of the card, front and back, with his device before throwing the card as far down the hall way as he possibly could.



     In the southwest wing in the forth basement level of the DHS building, Michael slouched down in his control room captain chair fast asleep. A few of the men who where supposed to be monitoring the local feeds, were sleeping, as well.

    
One man cracked his eyes open to find that Tameka's old lab had been accessed. The indicator light flashed an urgent red. "Unauthorized Access."

    
"Sir, -- Mr. Young -- we have a code eighty-one in room 4-1977 north wing."

    
Upton!

    
Michael sprang up from his chair waking the rest of the control room crew.

    
"I need everyone to track this building, make sure all of the cameras are set to get rolling and recording. Make sure we have clear audio. I'm going. Stand by for further instructions."

    
He gathered his jacket and briskly headed for the door.

    
"Oh, don't start recording or anything until I tell you, got it?"