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Lindsay had spent the previous twenty-four hours living one minute at a time.  Before they moved into Central Park, she had depended on William's judgment to keep them safe.  Now she was without her husband and it was up to her to call the shots.  She had to stop living moment by moment and start thinking of living day-by-day.  Wandering around aimlessly wasn’t safe.  She had to come up with a plan.  Her children had barely had a scrap of food to eat since they left the Central Park Obama-Camp.  When the Unified National Guard came marching in to evict them, Lindsay was not at her home.  She’d asked her neighbor to look after her place so she could take the kids with her to the medical station at the north end of Central Park.  She was standing in line when the riot squads began throwing tear gas into the makeshift streets.  She tried desperately to run back to her home but was cut off at every turn.  She fled into the streets surrounding Central Park and waited for the Unified National Guard to leave.  Lindsay sat down outside a well lit drugstore and held her kids tight so they could sleep.  She was able to doze off a few times and get enough rest so she could tackle the next day.

When the sun came up, Lindsay walked toward the Central Park Obama-Camp to find exactly what she expected.  Bulldozers and dump trucks were tearing down all the structures and hauling everything away.  Evicting them would do little good if the residents could just return after the soldiers left.  All around the park, the former residents watched and waited for the Unified National Guard to leave.  Once they departed, the residents swarmed in to try and salvage anything they could. 

Lindsay sat on the park bench and let her children play on the ground in front of her.  Anytime they took one step beyond arms reach, she quickly reigned them back in.  She was determined to sit right there on that bench and not get up until she had some sort of plan.  Lindsay thought of the different possibilities for shelter and weighed the risk.  Thirty minutes later, she had a plan in mind.  The first item on the agenda was to find a public restroom in a crowded place with lots of foot traffic.  She and her children would bathe as best they could and attempt to wash their clothes.  The less ragged they looked, the better. It would increase their odds of survival and allow them to blend in with everyday people.  The second item on the agenda was to loiter in large public places like airports, train stations, or shopping malls.  She made it a point to look like she was in each place for a reason.  She would only stay for three or four hours to avoid suspicion.

After one week of thinking she was blending in perfectly, a TSA agent at LaGuardia Airport approached her. Lindsay trembled in fear and began to cry, certain that she was about to be arrested even though she hadn't committed a crime.  What she failed to realize was that with air travel being so expensive, only the very wealthy had the funds to afford it.  Lindsay and her children stuck out like a sore thumb.  The TSA agent knew what she was doing.  He told her to stop crying and calm down.  He took out a piece of paper and wrote down an address and his name.  Lindsay was suspicious of the man but reluctantly took the slip of paper.  He told her to go to the address and mention his name.  The people there would provide Lindsay and her children with food and a warm bed.  She looked confused and wanted to believe him, but she knew that when something seemed too good to be true, it often was.  He assured her that it was a private, charitable organization for the homeless.  Regrettably, they had to be selective and had to keep the location a secret because they didn't have the funds or the means to cater to the waves of homeless people walking the streets of New York City.  The man smiled warmly and shared with her that he and his family lived there years ago.  The only price of admission was your word that you wouldn’t stay longer than two weeks.

Two weeks was all Lindsay needed.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The president of the United States was being hauled away by the Secret Service. His feet were about an inch off the floor as he was transported down the hallway from the Clinton Room to an elevator.  He deduced that this was the standard procedure to prevent the president from protesting and refusing to evacuate with the Secret Service.  Along the way he noticed that every entranceway was replaced by a massive steel door.  The lights were out and all Malcolm could see was a faint, red light that barely illuminated the hallway.  The president and his four protectors entered the elevator; and the door slammed shut.  The elevator did not hesitate or require a button to push; it immediately descended.

"Ad-Man secure." One of the agents spoke the president's call sign over the radio.  Malcolm was not particularly fond of his call sign.  The "Ad" was short for admiral.  He understood the meaning and so did everyone else.  He still didn't like it because it sounded like he was an advertising executive and not the president of the United States.

The elevator traveled ten stories under the White House and the door opened to reveal the presidential bunker.  From the time the first explosion rocked the White House until the door of the elevator opened one hundred and twenty feet below, forty-seven seconds had elapsed.

"OK boys, that was fun.  Someone mind telling me what’s going on?"

"Yes, Mr. President.  A dump truck filled with explosives crashed the barricade and collided with the north wall of the compound.  It exploded on impact and took down a large section of the north wall.”

“I heard more than one explosion.”

“Yes, Mr. President, I heard them, too.  Let me check.”  The Secret Service agent pulled out his smartphone and tapped a few buttons.  “Once the wall was down, suicide bombers started running across the lawn.”

"What about my guests in the Clinton Room?  Are they safe?"

"Yes sir, they are fine.  The White House A.I. secured the room and they are safe."

"Good, thank you, Mike."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Computer, give me a status update on what’s happening."  President Powers straightened his suit coat.

"Yes, Mr. President.” The screen in front of the president displayed video footage of the attack. “Seven assailants have been killed on the White House lawn.  Four explosions managed to cause minor damage to the north wall.  One explosion was too far away to cause damage.  The remaining two assailants' vests failed to detonate."

The lead agent in charge of the presidential detail smiled when he saw the footage.  “Excellent!  My sniper teams on the roof did an outstanding job.”  The footage showed the suicide bombers sprinting across the lawn; one by one they were struck by a bullet and fell to the ground.  They had dead-man switches which caused the explosives to detonate when they hit the ground.

“Yes, Mike, I’m very impressed.  Your team did an outstanding job.  Well done.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

"Computer, I want you to grant full temporary access to Chief of Staff Reid.  Tell her everything you just told me and inform her that I am alive and well.   I'm sure my guests have a lot of questions.  Once you’ve answered her questions, I want you to put her on vid-con.  I'd like to speak with her as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry, Mr. President, I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Excuse me?  And just why not?"

"Security procedures must be adhered to, Mr. President.  If you were allowed direct communication with anyone outside of this room, you might be pressured into surrendering yourself to enemy forces."

"Mike?"

"She's right, Mr. President.  You still have full command and control down here.  You just cannot have personal interaction with anyone.  The office of the president must be protected.”

“I understand, thank you.  If someone had a gun to my wife’s head, I would no doubt give in to any demand to save her life.  How much longer will I need to stay down here?”

"Mr. President, we are going to get you out of here just as soon as possible."  Special Agent Mike Reese had been the lead agent on the president's detail for the last four years.  He knew the president could be fidgety about all of the protection and fuss. 

"What's the hold-up?  What are we waiting on?"

"Sir, we are erecting a make-shift barricade to block off the hole in the north wall of the compound.  We are also grounding all air traffic within two hundred miles.  Any flight approaching DC is being diverted to another airport.  Once that is done and we run a full sweep of the area and the airspace is secure, we can move you up top."

"So, I'm going to be down here for a while?"

"Yes, sir."

"Computer, send word to Chief of Staff Reid that the guests in the Clinton Room will be joining me in the presidential bunker."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Mr. President, I'm not sure that is..."

"Mike, don't start.  I will not hide out down here like some frightened child while they stay up top during a terrorist attack on the White House.  They were all screened before they entered the White House, and they have my full trust.  Make it happen."

"Yes, Mr. President, I'll get it done."

"Thank you, Mike."

Special Agent Reese left the other three agents behind and rode the elevator to the top.  A few minutes passed, and the elevator door opened.  CIA Director Jimenez rolled his wheelchair into the room along with FBI Director Warren Gill and Secretary Laferriere.

"Mr. President, do I still have access to Langley?"  The director of the CIA was steering his wheelchair into the room and almost knocked over Secretary Laferriere.

"Yes, Roberto.  The link remains effective as long as you’re in the White House."

"Good.  Computer, bring up a map of the Iranian Theater."

Warren Gill looked confused and exchanged glances with the other men in the room.  "Mr. Jimenez, an attack on the White House just took place and we don't know if something bigger is coming, and you’re looking at the Iranian Theater?"

The crusty old man in the wheelchair scratched his face and didn’t take his eyes off the screen.  "Mr. Gill, I'm very well aware of what’s happening; if you recall I was in the same room."

The elevator door opened, and the remaining guests of the poured into the room.

"Why the hell are we looking at the Empire?  We need to know what's happening outside right now!  More attacks could be coming!"  Governor Prince was glaring at Jimenez and then looked at the president in desperation.

"There won't be any more attacks."  Jimenez said with confidence.

Everyone in the room looked at the president.  He was as confused as the rest of them; he calmly addressed the CIA Director.   "Roberto, I think everyone in the room, especially me, deserves an explanation.  What just happened?"

"The attack we were just a part of was nothing but a diversion to draw our attention away from something else."

Governor Prince rolled her eyes.  "Exactly, which is why we need to be figuring out what they are going to do next!  This could be a part of a very large attack!  We need to figure out what the next one will be before it happens and a lot of people die!  Stop wasting time and do your job, Jimenez!"

"Governor Prince, I am doing my job, if you would kindly calm down and let me speak."

The president silenced the governor with only a glance.

"The Silent Warriors have never once coordinated multiple attacks.  The Thanksgiving Day Massacre happened in several cities, but it was still one attack.  They have also never hit a military or political target.  They always focus on attacking the public to get people angry at us."

Secretary of Defense Decker quickly interjected.  "That's true, but why did they change tactics?  What does it mean?"

"I don't know, but with the majority of our resources looking within our own borders, I have a feeling we need to take a look at what the Empire is doing in theirs."

The president addressed the military personnel in the room.  "Generals, Admiral, do you see anything out of the ordinary in terms of troop deployment?  Are they preparing to invade Europe?"

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs answered the question. "Mr. President, that is not likely; we have no doubt that they are planning an invasion, but our best estimates put that twelve months out at best."

"Could that estimate be wrong?"  Secretary Laferriere asked.

"Right or wrong, the question doesn't matter," Director Jimenez interrupted. "This diversionary tactic will buy them twelve to sixteen hours to accomplish something under the radar.  Invading Europe will be no more a secret than Normandy was eighty-three years ago.  That's not what this is."

Everyone looked at the president, who had a Ph.D in American History.  "Normandy was certainly not a secret; it was the largest military invasion in the history of the world at the time.  The Allies did, however, create many diversions and spread misinformation so the Nazis would think the invasion would be launched at a different location.  I agree with Director Jimenez; the Empire probably thought they would have a short window to quickly sneak something past us.  The question is what."

Admiral Mack stepped forward.  "Computer, give me a status report on the Port of Gibraltar."

"I'm sorry, Admiral Mack, you don’t have access to my system.  Presidential authorization is required."

"Computer, grant full temporary access to everyone in this room with the exception of the Secret Service Agents, and grant Admiral Mack's request immediately."

"Yes, Mr. President."  The map of the Iranian Theater zoomed in on the Port of Gibraltar.  "The 
James Russell
 is operating at sixty-two percent efficiency.  The flight deck will be operational in fourteen hours.  Allied Forces in Spain have redeployed and have secured the north and south sides of Gibraltar.  They are holding the line from Tetouan to the Atlantic Coast.  Iranian forces to the south of the line have shown no signs of advance towards the port."

"What?" Admiral Mack inquired.  "I was certain this had something to do with Gibraltar.  Computer, what is the status of the Iranian fleet in the Mediterranean?"

"The Iranian fleet has shown no signs of movement in the last twenty-four hours."

Admiral Mack looked defeated. "Maybe we are on a wild goose chase here.  Another attack might be coming for us here at home."

"I'm sure that the agencies represented in this room are working diligently to prevent that from happening. I agree with Director Jimenez; this is a diversion."  FBI Director Warren Gill studied the map intently.

"Thank you, Warren."  Roberto Jimenez even sounded like a grouch when he was expressing gratitude. 

General Weygandt addressed the White House A.I.   "Computer, display the five enemy bunkers and give a status report on each."

Secretary of Defense Decker spoke up.  "Computer, standby on the status report.  General, I know what you’re thinking and let me address your concern.  All five bunkers are under constant surveillance.  We can read the license plates of any vehicles coming or going from any of the facilities.  If we detect a spike in radiation we know there’s a chance they’re attempting to move one of their nukes.  If they open the launch doors at any of the facilities, we know immediately.  If either of those things happens, we can strike immediately and destroy anything topside of the bunker."

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary.  I figured you would have a watchful eye over the bunkers.  Computer, continue with status report."

"Bunkers 1 and 2 have had no significant movement in the last twenty-four hours.  Radiation levels remain normal.  Bunkers 3 and 4 were resupplied by armored vehicles."

"Wait.  Computer, standby.  Why do we let them resupply their bunkers?"  Governor Prince asked.

"They have a series of underground roads that lead to the bunkers.  The entrance to the tunnels is always in a populated city, usually next to a hospital or a school."  Secretary Decker replied with disdain.

"Bastards.  Why do we still follow the Geneva Convention again?  They seem to be doing just fine without it," Governor Prince replied. “Computer, continue with the status report."

"Radiation levels at Bunker 5 have not increased in the last twenty-four hours." 

"That's it?  What about movement at Bunker 5?"  Governor Prince asked.

"We don't know.  Six months out of the year the weather blocks out the bunker from our satellites.  If we're lucky, we get a clear day or two a few times during the blackout.   All we can do is monitor the radiation levels.  It's exactly why they chose the location."  Director Jimenez didn’t like secrets being kept from him. 

The president had been listening intently to everything, taking it all in and thinking.   "Roberto, I'm starting to suspect this has something to do with Bunker 5.  It's the only thing that it could be.  They aren't moving towards Gibraltar, and we can see anything that goes on at the other four bunkers."

"Mr. President, I'm inclined to agree with you.  However, beyond the radiation levels, we can't tell what is going on.  Any drones we send near the bunker get shot down before they can see anything."