The remainder of the afternoon went by quickly. Katie went and had her nails done, came home and paid a few bills, shopped online for a bit, then prepared a lite dinner for herself. At 6:00 PM she gave up on waiting for John to call. It was 9:00 PM in Atlanta and she was surprised but not concerned that she hadn’t heard anything from him. She dialed his number, but the call went immediately to his voice mail. Hanging up without leaving a message she paused, considering the idea she’d just had. With a smile she ran into the closet, let the dress drop to the floor around her feet and once she had the pose she liked, snapped a pic of her naked body reflecting in the mirror. A moment later she texted the image to her husband, pulled the dress back on and returned to the living room.
With a sigh, Katie turned the TV on and clicked through channels until she found something to watch. It wasn’t football and no one was shooting anyone, so she knew John would hate it. She tried his number a couple more times, but now she couldn’t even get his voicemail. The call just failed each time.
Shortly after 8:30 she groaned when the show she was watching was interrupted. A “Breaking News” banner appeared diagonally across the screen and a deep male voice intoned that the network was interrupting the normally scheduled program with an urgent newsbreak.
Five minutes after a harried news anchor began describing the nuclear detonations in New York, DC and LA, she snatched up her phone and tried to call John again. Call failed. She tried twice more with the same results, finally giving up and nearly flinging the phone across the room in frustration.
Katie sat glued to the TV, wanting more information than what the talking head kept repeating. Intellectually she knew the network didn’t have any additional news to share, but emotionally she was furious that all she really knew was that nuclear bombs had been set off in three major American cities.
“Stupid!” She said to herself when she remembered the satellite phone John kept for emergencies.
Jumping to her feet she dashed into his office to the gun safe that took up half of one wall. She came to a stop when she looked at the keypad, unable to remember the combination. Thinking for a minute she ran back to the sofa where’d she left her iPhone and snatched it up. John had made her put the combination in the Notes app on the phone, despite her assurances that she’d remember the combination and her doubts that she’d ever need to open the safe on her own.
Thankful that he had insisted, she punched in the number, the locking bolt clicking loudly when it released. Spinning the wheel she tugged the heavy door open and looked inside. A row of four assault rifles was centered, three shotguns to the left and two large caliber bolt action rifles with long distance scopes to the right. Two shelves held a variety of handguns. Below that on the floor of the safe were neatly arranged cases of ammunition and another shelf with stacks of loaded magazines.
The inside of the door had several pockets and a thin, black cord disappeared out of one of these into the back of the safe where it was plugged in to an internal electrical outlet. Pulling open the Velcro cover, Katie retrieved a small satellite phone and hit the power button. While she waited for it to power up her eyes ran over the weapons.
She may have settled into a suburban lifestyle, appearing to be nothing more than a spoiled housewife whose biggest concerns were working out and shopping, but Katie was hardly what she appeared. Nearly fifteen years as a case officer for the CIA had hardened and sharpened her. That may have been in her past, but once your eyes are opened the way that job had opened hers, you can never look at the world the same way again.
Reaching into the safe, Katie grabbed one of John’s shotguns and quickly fed seven shells of buckshot into it. Carrying the weapon in both hands, she ran to the master bedroom and after laying it on the foot of the bed she pulled the dress over her head and tossed it onto the floor. She quickly pulled clothes out of a drawer, dressing in a