Untitled-Part One

Joe Lee Johnson pushed his chair onto the back two legs, knowing that the risk of him falling over was high. It didn’t stop him, as he’d always lived his life a little on the dangerous side.

A bullish man, with a broad chest and salt and pepper hair, Johnson had been the Army’s watchdog for almost ten years. A career Army man, he carried the muscle and requisite mustache that came with the bravado necessary to endure thirty years of service.

Right now, he was supposed to be at the other end of the complex, watching the screens. Since they’d toppled Al Qaeda, though, there hadn’t been much to watch. In his mind, there was no reason he couldn’t sit here, enjoy playing his online poker, and just listen for the warning beep that signaled an incoming plane.

Besides, even when there was a beep, it was almost always a commercial or private airplane that had just gotten turned around. It was easy enough to let them know that they were about to fly over restricted airspace, and that they needed to turn around.
Beep! Beep! Beep! As the signal went off, Johnson sighed to himself. His shift was almost over, and all he wanted to do was get home. He had a bad case of hemorrhoids, and sitting on these uncomfortable military chairs didn’t help matters at all. In fact, he was a little afraid that it may make things worse.

He flipped from poker over to the screen and almost choked on his pretzel that he’d been chewing on. There was stuff headed right for D.C., and he could tell right away it wasn’t a drill. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Russia had decided to make good on their threats to launch.

Johnson rushed down the hallway, the yellow emergency lights flashing and klaxons blaring at every intersection. Somebody had to let the base know that this wasn’t a drill, and Johnson played that part perfectly.

If he didn’t speed up, he knew that not only would he not make it to his eleventh year, but he’d be lucky to make his fiftieth birthday. Plus, he had to get to the command center at the same time that whoever was on shift with him got to theirs. He thought it was Eric tonight, which was a relief. If there was one person that would rush when he saw this, it would be him.

He wove his way through the underground labyrinth, working his way to the command center located at the bottom of the bunker. He knew these tunnels better than anyone else on earth. They were his home and his confidante, and had been since Marie had left him three years ago.

After what felt like ages, Johnson set foot in the room he had been searching for. A small room, no more than five feet by five feet, the feeling of claustrophobia overtook his six foot frame, as it always did when he clambered into the tiny room.

He reached out, hit a blazing red button marked emergency, and picked up the telephone. It rang four times before there was an answer, and even then it was near inadequate.

“Hello?” A sleepy voice mumbled into the telephone.

“Get me the president!” Johnson commanded, his tone reflecting the emergency. “We’ve got a code four!”

The voice at the other end let out a small gasp and it was gone, leaving only a slight thump as the receiver banged against the wall. Within thirty seconds, the tired rumble had been replaced with a thick Texas drawl.

“What’re y’all talkin’ about?” President Walker asked, the note of befuddlement apparent in his voice.

“Sir, we’ve got a code four, and I need your permission to launch!” Johnson shouted into the phone, the fact that he was yelling at one of the most powerful men on the planet not lost on him.

“Launch, dammit! Launch!” Walker responded, the full severity of the situation sinking into him.

Johnson grabbed the key from his pocket and threw it into the console. Without a second thought, he turned the key and grabbed the microphone to give the order. He saw that the other key was already turned, and turned his to launch the ICBMs.
The console screen was still screaming at him, as it had been for the past fifteen minutes, begging him to take care of this situation and go home. That was looking more and more like wishful thinking at this point, when only a quarter hour ago it had seemed like a foregone conclusion.

Stealing a glance at the screen, he saw that the multiple green marks kept approaching, getting closer and closer to their targets. As he dwelled on the massive amount of lives about to be lost in whatever country had ordered the strike, he was distracted by the sound of glass breaking behind him.

All of a sudden, he felt himself lifted off of his feet and thrown forward onto the console. As he tried to take a breath, he felt his lung gurgling for air, and a warm, sticky sensation was spreading across his chest. He couldn’t find his breath, and everything was fading out of focus. He knew now what the warm sensation was, and knew that he wouldn’t see his fiftieth birthday. His last thought before he slid down the black slope into darkness was “God help us all.”

******

Peter Henderson threw the last duffle bag into the car, then slammed the trunk down. Over the roof of his Pontiac he could see his ex-wife and son inside, waving at him. Alex was doing her best to try to keep the normally complacent Toby happy, since he was upset that Peter had said he couldn’t go on this trip.

Going on this trip had actually been Alex’s idea. She knew he’d been stressed after losing his job, and had pushed him to take some time away before trying to find a new job. Hell, she’d seemed more than happy to ask for time off from her job to watch their son. And Lord knows that Peter needed at least a day away.

He smiled to himself as he remembered how she had cajoled him, stopping just short of pleading, with him to go on this trip. She still carried a torch for him, but he’d had no choice but to leave. Their paths had gone different ways, and they had split amicably about four months ago.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” she had said, her voice full of sympathy. “There’s nothing you could have done differently.”

“It doesn’t really matter if it’s my fault or not,” He had shouted. “I was the one responsible, so I’m the one that got canned.”

The truth of the matter stung worse than anything. Peter still couldn’t believe that after all the time he’d invested into the company, they would let him go like they did.
It had been a simple issue, something that anyone could have done. Brett had asked Peter to vouch for him, and he had. They’d been fast friends for a long time, and Peter was happy to help him get a job.

The first two months had flown by. Brett had been one of the fastest rising stars in the company. Two weeks ago, Peter had watched him roll up to his parking spot in a brand new Porsche. Although the pangs of jealousy were strong, Peter had imagined it had to do more with not having family instead of anything else.

The next day, Peter was called to the top floor. His heart had been racing. He’d been angling for the past three months for a promotion, and he was sure this was going to be it.

He stepped off the elevator to the sight of Brett and Mr. Kirkwood. Beside the two of them were police officers, and as he looked around, Brett was in handcuffs. It didn’t look like today was going to be the day he got his promotion.

He was completely unprepared and blindsided by the news that followed. For the two months that Brett had been employed, over two hundred thousand dollars had been stolen, all traced back to Peter’s computer. Brett was going to jail. And Peter? He was going to have to find another way to feed his family, since he had been the one to stick his neck out for his now former friend. Mr. Kirkwood made sure to point out that if Brett had been a little less suspicious, then Peter would probably be going to jail until they found out what had happened. As it was, the car dealership had found things a little fishy, and had called the police. When they dug through the files, they were able to determine that Peter was innocent, but was still going to be punished for putting his reputation out on the line.

That was all gone now though, and he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. He was going to get some fresh air and clear his head, then come back and start new. It might be a good thing to have some clarity in his life, now that everything else had become muddled.

Glancing back through the picturesque window, he could see Alex now dancing with Toby. His son was the light of his life, and sometimes the only reason he actually got up and went about his day anymore. Almost three years old, he was a handful, but Peter didn’t think he was too bad. For sure, he wasn’t much worse than any of the other three year olds out there, which was saying a lot.

He headed back inside, his mind wandering a little to what he had planned for his nights away. There was a river up there that had been calling his name for a while, and he couldn’t wait to go rafting down it. The single river that ran through town was so polluted that just being near it for extended periods of time weren’t recommended by the city council.

He was also excited about the fact that he would get more than one night away. After much discussion between the two of them, they’d finally decided that two nights was the right amount of time away. It meant that he wouldn’t be getting there and turning right around, but he also wouldn’t be gone for two weeks, as he had sometimes at his job.

Alex rushed up to him, Toby trailing behind tugging on his mom’s shirt. The little tyke had been constantly learning new words recently, and Peter was pleased to learn that his newest masterpiece was “Dummy!” He knew that Alex was going to have her hands full this weekend, and felt a little tug of guilt about taking the time away. He knew he needed it, too much longer in the house and he might explode, but it didn’t stop him from wondering for a little bit if it was the right decision.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Alex asked thoughtfully, after they’d both calmed down from Toby's unnatural fit. He sat down on a chair and looked at her face, worry lines creasing her still young forehead.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, kid.” He replied, knowing that it would goad her, considering that she was older than he was, even if only by a few months. “It’s only two days, and it’s not like Toby is acting sick or anything.”

At the mere mention of the word sick, Toby ran up to him and started having a fake coughing fit, throwing a wry smile his dad’s way the entire time. Toby knew that he was a little heartbreaker when it came to the girls, and sure enough, his mom started laughing right on cue. Peter, having handled this for the past three months, just grabbed him and pulled his shirt up to his chest.

“I guess we’re going to have to perform emergency surgery!” Peter declared, before blowing a raspberry on Toby’s belly, Toby’s mirthful laughter filling the room.

“Stop, daddy, stop!” Toby shouted, overjoyed with this recent turn of events.

Peter put him back down so both feet were on the floor, and turned to Alex.

“I’m all packed up. How about I fix us some dinner and then you guys can see me off?”

Alex nodded enthusiastically, and Toby, always the little helper, grabbed his step stool so that he could cook too. Peter smiled and couldn’t imagine what he was going to do with himself with two days away from the munchkin. He could only hope that the time away would clear his head.