taking a seat on a bar stool at the kitchen island.
“I got a text when he arrived in Atlanta this afternoon, but nothing since. I was just going to try to get through with a satellite phone.” She held the phone up for them to see.
While they watched, Katie checked the signal lock again, muttering to herself when it still said ‘searching’. Walking out into the back yard she moved out from under the roof that covered the patio and stood by the edge of the pool, nothing between the phone and the sky above. The phone quickly locked onto a signal and she dialed John’s number.
Her heart skipped a beat when it started ringing, but it only rang once then she received an “all circuits are busy – please try your call again later” message. She tried three more times with the same results, shaking her head when Mike and Janice walked out and stood next to her on the pool deck.
Mike looked calm, or as calm as anyone could, but Janice appeared to be heading down the path to hysteria. Her husband circled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her shoulder. Suddenly Katie just wanted them to leave. She had her own worries, and didn’t need to be burdened with anyone else’s.
“Do you have anything to drink?” Mike asked. “I think we could all use a stiff shot and see what we can find out about what’s going on.”
Katie looked at him, considering asking them to leave, but despite his outward demeanor she could tell that Mike was only keeping it together for Janice’s benefit. Compassion won out and she led the way inside and pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer.
2
Katie poured three shots that were all downed quickly. The ice-cold alcohol was smooth at first, but blossomed into a pleasant fire when it hit her stomach. She wanted a second shot, but was more concerned with keeping her head clear. Her guests weren’t so pragmatic. When Katie didn’t pour another round Mike picked up the bottle and refilled his and his wife’s glasses. The second shots disappeared as quickly as the first and he was reaching for a third when Katie put her hand on his.
“Maybe that’s enough for now, Mike.” She said. “We need to stay sharp.”
Janice pushed their hands out of the way and poured herself a third, which she swallowed in a single gulp, refilling her glass before Katie could take the bottle away and return it to the freezer.
“OK, that’s really enough.” She said, her tone firm. “I don’t need either of you getting drunk.”
Mike nodded and they moved to the couches arranged in the large room where the TV was located.
The news was looping footage from military drones showing the devastation of New York City. The anchor had caught his stride and was narrating non-stop, managing to not give out any new information while at the same time not repeating himself. Then they cut away to a video that had been uploaded from LA. It had obviously been shot with a cell phone and showed two mushroom clouds climbing into the evening sky.
The video lasted for nearly a minute and the three of them were riveted to the screen. When the video ended the network restarted it, the anchor continuing to babble about the horrific attacks. He said he wouldn’t speculate on who was responsible, then immediately opined that the attacks were most likely the work of a radical Islamist terrorist group.
Katie shook her head at the man’s ignorance. This wasn’t terrorism. This was a state sponsored attack. An act of war. She well knew how dangerous the terrorists were, but the thought of any group being able to get there hands on what was being reported as a minimum of ten nuclear weapons, and use them in such a precise and coordinated manner was ludicrous. This was most likely North Korea or Iran. It had to be some country with leaders that were so out of touch with reality that they thought they could successfully attack the US and get away with it.
The images on the screen changed again, switching to a reporter in Chicago, drawing Katie’s attention back to the TV.
“…thousands of people have been affected by whatever was released from the small plane, perhaps tens of thousands.” The reporter was a blonde woman, standing on a street corner in downtown Chicago. In the background dozens of bodies were clearly visible lying