“Oh my God, Shade. This whole thing is really weird,” Charlie said.
“We’re under orders not to say anything to anyone. If a citizen asks what’s going on, our response is supposed to be the cyber attack crap line. On top of that, our patrol people are to keep everyone off the streets, with no group assembly of any kind. If anyone starts asking questions, we are supposed to say it’s for their own safety. If they push the issue, we arrest them,” Shade said, tapping the handcuff case on her gun belt.
“Wait a minute,” Maggie chimed in suddenly. “Your commanding officers are telling you this? Does the chief of police really think this is a cyber attack? What do these restrictions on the public have to do with it?”
Shade began shaking her head, and then looked at Maggie with a smirk. “It’s not the chief giving these orders, or our captains, majors, or anyone else in the command staff. It’s the earpiece guys.”
“Who . . . what are the earpiece guys?” Charlie asked, leaning closer toward his sister.
“Good question, big brother. Seems it’s a government agency we’ve never heard of. That is why I don’t believe this national emergency is anything more than a smoke screen. At about six o’clock, when all of this stuff started happening, all of our division commanders were sitting in a meeting room. Nobody knew anything, and the chief and his staff were sitting like statues. Then, all of a sudden, these three big goony dudes, wearing black battle dress utilities and sidearms, like the SWAT guys, come in, followed by a dozen armed soldiers. They have no insignia, except a patch on their shoulders. The chief was acting really weird, almost as if he was scared. He said the men were with the National Security Force. The National Security Force, kids. Have you ever heard of them?”
Maggie and Charlie looked at one another, confused, and shook their heads in unison. “We might have heard of them, Sis,” Charlie added.
“I’ll break it down for you,” Shade said. “These guys work directly for the president. They outrank everyone, including the military. They say, ‘jump,’ and we say, ‘How high?’ The leader of the National Security Force tells us that the president has enacted martial law and suspended the Constitution until this emergency is under control. Period. End of story.”
“This is crazy,” Maggie said, raising her voice angrily. “Someone should have challenged them or voiced an opinion. Instead, you all just agreed?”
Shade rolled her eyes, before answering back. “Oh yeah, several people protested, Little Sister, and every one of them got their asses arrested on the spot.”
Charlie stood looking down at his sister. “So the chief really arrested his own people, Shade . . . really? How does that work?”
Shade walked over until she stood in front of Charlie, and began poking him in the chest with her index finger. “We didn’t arrest them, Big Brother, they did. These National Security people have their own jails, and they are playing by an entirely different set of rules. We had everyone from lieutenants to majors getting cuffed and hustled away today, just for speaking their minds. I’m telling you that big shit is happening on the reservation.”
Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, thinking, but before he could answer, Maggie came and stood between him and Shade. “Tell her what happened last night, Charlie,” she urged him in a soft voice. “Go ahead. Tell her.”
“What happened last night?” Shade asked, shifting her eyes from Maggie back to Charlie. “I put my ass on the line telling you what I know, now you better spill the beans, Brother.”
Maggie retreated to the bathroom to get dressed and freshen up, while Charlie sat back down on the couch, and explained to Shade the terrible events that happened at the press conference. Maggie came out in time to hear Charlie asking his sister, “What prison ships?” She stood in the doorway of the bedroom listening, suddenly wanting to know what they were talking about.
“One of our guys has a brother who works at the ship yards. He says they’ve been turning some old navy ships into floating prisons. It was real hush-hush stuff. They were told the ships were to be used to hold terrorists prisoners from the Marine base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. That was the story. Then last night while all the shit was hitting the fan here in D.C., those ships were being lit up and going active. Sounds like an awfully weird coincidence, Charlie, don’t you think?”
Charlie stood thinking for a moment, and then suddenly turned toward Shade. “If martial law has been put into place and the military is on every corner of the street, then how did you get here?” Charlie asked.
Without taking her eyes off Charlie, Shade reached inside her white uniform blouse and retrieved a laminated photo ID, attached to a lanyard around her neck. “This is how, Bro,” she answered. “If you hold certain positions within the police department you get one of these ‘do not go to jail’ cards. With this card, I can move through checkpoints and travel around the city freely.”
Charlie examined it and with a smile he said, “You always could get past the rules, Shade.”
For the next ninety minutes, Charlie and Maggie sat on the couch pouring over their copies of the new Media Rules that Press Secretary Koontz had handed out, moments after having Phillip Elliott murdered. Shade, who had been up all night, was taking a nap in Charlie’s bedroom. Charlie had promised to wake her in time for the president’s news address.
The Media Rules covered everything from writing a news story to creating an article for the Internet. Occasionally, Maggie or Charlie would direct the other to a certain page and bring something to his or her attention. The common theme throughout the guidebook was strong advice to never question anything said by the president and administration, to never say anything negative about the president and administration, and, if it came out of the White House, the information was to be treated like the word of God. The last chapter went into great detail about how any reporter or newsperson would be dealt with for violations of the rules. “Indefinite detention without cause or trial,” Maggie read aloud to Charlie.
When the television suddenly came on, both Charlie and Maggie jumped. Charlie had turned the flat screen on earlier, and cruised through all the channels, finding nothing on them. He had left the channel on one of the major networks in anticipation of it eventually coming back to life.
“Shade, get in here,” Charlie yelled.
The screen was immediately filled with a graphic image reading “AMERICA UNDER ATTACK” featured with powerful broadcast background music. Grabbing the control, Charlie quickly flipped from one news channel to another. The exact graphic and music was on every channel.
Shade came into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and threw herself into a big, padded chair near the screen.
After about fifteen-seconds, the graphic faded to show Brian Williams facing the camera. At first he appeared normal as usual, but anyone watching could quickly detect a sense of tension. Unbeknownst to the U.S. citizens watching the newscast, there were a dozen armed NSF agents making sure Williams didn’t deviate from his prepared script. Williams began explaining how the United States had suffered the worst cyber attack in history. For the next sixty minutes, Williams explained that all communications had been shattered by a massive assault by unknown suspects. His broadcast was interrupted several times by interviews with alleged experts, explaining intricate details about cyber crimes, and field reports, reassuring the viewers the military and government had the situation under control. Williams kept reminding the people at home that a presidential address was coming on at the top of the hour. In one breath, Williams soberly stated the attack was caused by a foreign government, but then in another, he left open the option it was domestic terrorism, accusing members of the far right, the Tea Party and white power or Nazi groups.
Finally, Williams told the viewers they were going