“I see you made it safely after all.” Colonel Oliver North stated with his characteristic smirk as I entered the base’s underground command center. 

“The reports of my demise are merely premature.” I purposely misquoted a famous saying, earning myself a rare grin and a nod of his head.  The command center was extremely crowded, filled with personnel rushing to and fro, as well as occupying every station in the well-equipped center.  Over in the far corner, I could see a team setting up even more equipment in a hurry.

The Colonel escorted me to the center table that normally held a map of South or Central America.  Now it held a map of North America, a map peppered with large and small red circles being constantly updated from the overhead projector, which was in turn connected to a computer operated by an Air Force Lieutenant. 

“Mr. Jones, glad you could join us.” General (Select) Powell stated in a voice that sounded like it had aged years in a few short hours.  He was still dark-haired, not yet gone silver, but if his voice was any indication, the silver hair would start appearing soon.

“What are the details, General?” I asked somewhat tersely.  The medics had gotten Brian out of the helicopter and rushed him to the hospital.  He’d regained consciousness on the way back to the base, and the last words he’d spoken as we landed were still ringing in my ears.

“Washington D.C. is gone.” The General told me in a voice that reflected the nightmares that had come to pass.  “Submarine-launched nukes, three of them, hit the capitol before NORAD even got the warning out.  Most of the eastern seaboard glows in the dark now, especially those places where we had military bases.  NORAD just got hit an hour ago and is off the scope.  Chicago is gone, as are most of our bases in Texas, Kansas, Nebraska, Washington, the Dakotas, Michigan, and Ohio.  California has largely been spared, but those Chinese and Soviet amphibious ships that left Mexico a week ago are now heading towards San Francisco.  Hawaii and Alaska are both off the air, but we don’t know if they were nuked or are just under attack.”

“In a few hours, most of Russia and China will be gone as well.”   Colonel North stated with a smile that was both grimly satisfied and sardonic at the same time.  “We launched everything we had as soon as we knew Washington had been taken out.”

“The President?” I asked as my stomach dropped.  Some part of me had guessed this was happening from the moment I’d realized Brian had been shot, but another part still wanted to refuse to believe that this time, World War Three was far worse than the last one had been.  Then again, considering how each of these time lines seemed to be getting worse than the one before, it was a logical progression.

“President Bush was sworn in on his plane about twenty minutes ago.” General Powell stated and my stomach dropped into my shoes at his words.  He also gave me a significant look that told me we’d have to speak a little bit more once we were in private.  There were things he didn’t know as Vice-President, things he had not only a right, but also a need to know, as President.

“He authorized the launch of our own missiles right away.” Colonel North added with a smugness that felt almost inappropriate.  Strike that, it was inappropriate.  “He’s just the decisive leader we need in a time like this.”

“He most definitely is.” I replied, earning myself a nod of approval from the Colonel.  Certainly the man knew I wasn’t an ordinary teenager, and he knew there was a super-secret project that I led, but he had never been told the specifics.  His loyalty had always been more to Bush than Reagan, and so he’d never been cleared for Project Do Over.

A shout from a nearby radar station drew our attention at that moment.  More missiles were inbound towards us and had been detected on long-range radar.  These, unlike the earlier missiles, were of the cruise-variant and had been launched by long-range bombers flying from bases in South America where they had been hiding for the past week or more.  The earlier attacks had been by medium-range ballistic missiles launched from Mexico. 

While we observed from radar stations and top-side cameras, Patriot missiles leaped out of their boxes and headed for the incoming cruise missiles.  When the Soviet missiles got closer, the shorter-range defensive missiles fired, followed soon after by strategically placed gatling guns.  When it was all over, two missiles had gotten through.  One hit the already damaged power plant and the other destroyed the base’s movie theater.  We felt neither strike this far below the surface, but the damage was clearly visible from the top-side cameras.

“That was close.” Colonel North muttered.  “Another twenty feet lower and that last missile would have hit the hospital.”

The hospital where even now Brian was being worked on by surgeons.

“Too many more of those into the power plant and that thing won’t be back in operation for months.” General Powell remarked sourly, giving me another significant stare as we returned to the main table and looked at the tactical situation on our southern border.  A technician was now updating it with information while another handed out several pages of radio communications to the two officers and to me.  While Major de Leon worked to direct the base’s damage and fire crews and Captain Drabkin directed the defense crews in rearming and relocating various weapon systems, we reviewed the various dispatches.  I didn’t read each and every line, but rather skimmed through them quickly.

In San Diego, the USS Ranger and USS Enterprise had headed to sea as soon as hostilities started.  Somehow a Soviet Kilo-class submarine had snuck up the coast.  It was a quiet diesel-electric boat and had likely spent several days resting on the bottom of the sea floor near the entrance to San Diego’s harbor.  When the two carriers came barreling towards the entrance at high speed, the single submarine sent four torpedoes into the Ranger and two into the Enterprise.  The older Ranger had broken up within twenty minutes, sending most of her crew to the bottom and effectively blocking the harbor. 

The Enterprise was caught fifteen minutes later by a flight of cruise missiles and blew up while conducting rescue operations of the other carrier’s crew.  Her entire crew of three thousand, plus most of the survivors from the other carrier died, and her eight nuclear reactors were spilling dangerous radioactive fuel into San Diego Harbor.  With the entrance blocked by the wreck of two carriers, no other surface ships were able to get out and the waters of the harbor were now on fire from oil spilling out of the Ranger’s wreck, and engineers were estimating that the water would be toxic with radiation to the point of being lethal within days.

The Navy’s highest ranking Admiral in the area had just ordered all military equipment destroyed if it could not be removed, all ships scuttled (not just sunk, but completely blown up), and anything that could be moved was the be evacuated to Camp Pendleton.  The Marines there were busily digging in, trying to set up a defensive perimeter to repel the troops that were even now spilling across the Mexican border. 

Our people in Arizona likely could have cared less that more than forty-percent of our Pacific Navy was gone.  They had their own things to worry about.  Tactical nukes had destroyed Fort Huachuca and Yuma, as well as Edwards Air Force Base and a small tactical nuke had managed to neatly excise the new military installation being built near Tucson, thereby eliminating a full regiment of tanks that had just arrived in that area.

Another dispatch reported of tanks bearing Mexican marking but transmitting radio signals in pure Russian. Earlier in the week, riots had broken out in several border-cities.  The Mexican government had sent hundreds of their new Soviet-made tanks, and tens of thousands of troops to quell the riots.  The last report from the intelligence analysts at Fort Huachuca (a report whose conclusions were cut off near the end by the nuke that had destroyed the installation) stated that analysts thought it likely the rioters had been Mexican troops themselves, and the troops coming in to ‘quell’ the riots had been Russians manning the Soviet-made equipment.

I didn’t need to read the end of the report that would never come to know that the conclusion would have contained a very real possible war warning.

Central and East Texas were getting nuked hard.  Tactical nukes were being used against every military installation within striking distance of their artillery or short-range missiles .  More Mexican/Russian troops were heading into West Texas.  Only military bases in other nearby states were being targeted.

Northern cities in Arizona, and several southern Nevada cities were also reporting paratroop landings.  The enemy had flooded our skies with missiles and fighters at first.  What aircraft we had that weren’t destroyed on the ground were only now really gearing up for a major fight.  In fact, our base’s planes had been some of the few to directly engage the enemy in the air, and we’d already lost half of those planes.  That hole in our air cover had allowed the Russians and Mexicans to send in thousands of paratroopers who were now battling an odd mixture of professional military, National Guard units, police officers, sheriffs, and even ordinary citizens. 

In most places, the streets were littered mostly with American dead interspersed with the occasional body of an enemy.

America hadn’t exactly been caught flat-footed, nor were we paying attention solely to the Russians and Chinese.  A wing of B-52’s had taken off from Castle Air Force Base in Merced, a town less than an hour from my hometown of Modesto, and were now heading west and then south.  In a few hours they would fire air-launched cruise missile tipped with nuclear warheads.  Those missiles would be targeted on key Mexican installations, and at least six would head into Mexico City, destroying the city that was bigger than New York. 

By the time this day was done, over a billion of Earth’s inhabitants would be dead.

“Sir, we found the source of the localized jamming!” A lieutenant on the far side of the room shouted out, grabbing everyone’s attention.  The jamming signal that had prevented me from calling for help back on that hill wasn’t strong enough to stop the base’s satellite signals, but had been dampening local communications.

“Colonel, dispatch a team to take it out.” General Powell ordered and Colonel North snapped to attention before going to the lieutenant’s station and talking with him in a hushed voiced.  That left just the General and I at the central table, and he took the opportunity to move so that we stood next to each other.  “David, you understand what this is all about, don’t you?”

“Yes, General I do.” I answered him as the board was updated with icons showing an armored column advancing into Arizona.  They were pointing due north, and their direction was like an arrow pointing right at Eureka.  Shevardnadze hadn’t started this war over a lust for power in the here and now.  He knew as well as anyone that this war would leave Earth a lifeless hulk.

He somehow also knew that a few hundred feet away was a machine that would make it as if all this had never happened. 

“They won’t nuke us if they plan to take the machine, and since we’re still here it is safe to assume that is their plan.” General Powell stated, making sure we were both on the same page and reaching the same conclusions.  “We need to discover how they found out.”

“I’m fairly sure they didn’t find out from anyone here.” I stated matter-of-factly.  All the people here that knew would never have told.  Further, the timing of the attack, just a few months before the machine was ready, proved they knew we were close to having it ready.  They wouldn’t have attacked if it was completed, because by then any attack they sent would have resulted in us using the machine before it was destroyed.  “Besides, what does it matter now?”

“It matters because before we send Paul Harrell back in time, he’ll need to know how they found out about this center.” General Powell’s voice had an edge to it now.  “Whoever leaked it is a security threat and we never found all the Chinese agents who probably leaked information in the last time line.”

“You’re right.” I agreed with him. 

“Good, now why don’t you head down to see Mr. Rule and see how much he can push forward the project.” General Powell suggested, another good idea. “I’ll send word down when we have news on how your friend is doing.”

“Thanks General.” I replied and headed out of the command center.  Lindstrom was still waiting outside and fell in behind me along with another person from the security platoon.  They both looked grim as they followed me into the elevator and down  to the next level.  Several years ago, this level had been the lowest, but since then another two levels had been added, both of them dedicated to the project.  Before the elevator would go down further, I had to enter a card key I always carried with me as well as punch in an eight-digit code.

The elevator opened into a small room made of bare concrete with a heavy concrete door at the far end, and a counter to the right behind which sat an Air Force guard.  Another Airman stood guard off in the left corner where he had a clear view both of the far door and the elevator.  Both of them nodded at me as I exited the elevator, followed by the two soldiers guarding me and headed to the counter.  Lindstrom and the other Marine stood off to the right, where they would wait until I returned. 

“Are you okay, sir? The guard asked as I stopped at the counter and signed the logbook for entry.

“I’m okay.” I answered him shortly and having finished signing in, I headed towards the door.  The same card key went into a slot while I entered the entry code into a special crypto-lock.  The lock was shielded so that no one could see the numbers I pushed, and the keys didn’t make any noise at all as I pushed them.  Of course the downside to all this was that I couldn’t see what I was typing in and had to go by touch alone.  Fortunately I’d done it so many times now it was purely reflexive, or it would be at least until we changed the code again. 

The door buzzed as I entered the correct code and opened automatically.  There was no window, or handle in the door and the only way to open it without power would be from the manual release on the inside.  I removed my key card as it opened far enough for me to enter and hurried inside.  A sensor noted my entry and immediately caused the door to start closing, locking me inside the long hallway that was on the other side of the door.

This level of the facility was mostly offices and laboratories where different parts of the time machine were built, experimented with, or tested. The room I wanted was down at the very end of the hallway, just to the left of the doorway that led to the stairwell going down to the lower level.  That stairway was the only access to that level, the level that held the actual time machine. 

“Jesus fucking CHRIST!” A very familiar voice was shouting as I opened the door on the left and entered Sean’s workroom.  It was actually a large room, with counters and cabinets running along three of the four concrete walls.  The fourth wall held diagrams and posters all showing different aspects of the machine and its support equipment. The middle of the room held several work counters and a desk that was overflowing with papers and bits of equipment.  Sean was leaning over the counter on the wall opposite the door, his back to me. I could see parts of different circuit boards strewn all over, along with a myriad of test equipment that included oscilloscopes and a dozen other devices I barely knew the names for, much less knew how to operate.  Standing next to him, and shaking his head, was Mr. Rush.   Both of them wore white lab coats; something I’d teased them about mercilessly for the past few years.

“No, I’m not him, but I like the sentiment.” I tried to joke, but it fell flat as both of them jumped, completely startled at my voice.

“Don’t fucking do that!” Sean cursed at me as he turned around.  He stopped at that, though, and his eyes went wide as he stared at me.  That got me to look down at myself and for the first time I noticed that my jacket was covered in blood.  No wonder the guard out front had asked if I was all right.

“It’s not mine.” I said with a shudder as I came further into the room.  Mr. Rush had a look of tremendous concern on his face as both he and Sean moved closer towards me. The blood sprayed on my jean jacket was obviously from two different sources by the patterns they made.  With a shudder, I continued explaining.  “Some of its Brian’s and some of it is from Kevin.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Sean exclaimed in a subdued voice.  His eyes were full of concern as they met mine, and a wave of grief threatened to overcome my tenuous control.  “What the hell happened?”

“You know about the attack that’s going on, of course.” I began and Sean shook his head while Mr. Rush took out a pack of cigarettes.  Years ago I’d found out his dirty little secret, and it had soon become mine and Sean’s as well.  When he worked in the lab, Mr. Rush often smoked a few cigarettes each day.  Sean and I had both smoked in previous lifetimes (although I’d never smoked in the last timeline at all) and when things got too stressful, or we were putting in very long hours, we’d all meet here in this work room and have a smoke.  Without interrupting, Mr. Rush took out three smokes and passed them around.

“We know someone is shooting missiles at us, and damaging our equipment, but not much else.” Mr. Rush said softly as he patted down pockets, looking for a lighter.  I took my Zippo out of my front chest pocket and handed it to him.

“The Soviets and Chinese have started World War III.” I explained to them in a voice that sounded dead even to my ears.  “President Reagan is dead, and most of our cities have been nuked.  Most of their cities and bases are being nuked right now.  There’s a few thousand troops heading up Arizona in this general direction, and earlier this morning a sniper tried to kill me.  He wounded Brian, we were alone on a hilltop talking and the same sniper killed Kevin when he and two others came up to save us.  Brian’s in surgery now.”

“What about Brandon… and Trevor.” Sean asked, adding our other friend quickly as he looked at Mr. Rush who for some reason was staring at my Zippo instead of lighting his cigarette.  He looked back up at me, waiting for an answer.

“They were at the camp.” I said with a slight shrug and a frown.  “I know the camp was attacked, and there were several killed or wounded, but not any specifics. With any luck, they’ll be okay.  I’m sure Lindstrom will let me know when we have information.  The helicopters are probably bringing back the dead and wounded, so as long as we don’t know anything right away, they’re probably fine.”

“Davey, you said Brian was shot but you weren’t?” Mr. Rush asked me quietly and I nodded, almost blushing as a bittersweet smile formed on my face.

“Yeah, we were… talking.” I said and saw Sean start to grin.  He knew me well enough that he probably guessed something more than talking had happened.  “The bullet went clean through him.”

“Would it be this bullet?” Mr. Rush asked, turning the Zippo so I could see the bullet that was firmly imbedded in the side. The bullet must have hit the lighter after passing through Brian, and been stopped by the thing.  I took it back with shaking fingers.

“That’s… that’s the one.” I said as I pried the bullet out of the lighter and then used the thing to light the cigarette Mr. Rush had handed me.  Sure enough it still worked and as I took a deep breath of smoke, I put the bullet back in my front pocket while passing the lighter back to Mr. Rush.  Both of them watched me, waiting for an explanation.  “We were kissing.”

“It’s about damn time.” Sean said with a smile while Mr. Rush gave an approving nod. 

“I am sure the doctors will do their best for him.” Mr. Rush said as he lit his cigarette and passed the lighter to Sean, who immediately lit his.  “We also have major surgery ahead of us, and it will take more than we have here, I fear.”

“What’s happened?” I asked, pushing Brian and the earlier events from my mind.  A new spike of fear was forming in my gut.  As long as there was hope of sending the President’s man back in time, this awful timeline would cease to exist and things could be better again.

“Two days ago we achieved a major breakthrough.” Mr. Rush explained in between puffs on his cigarette. Sean moved an ashtray from one of the other counters and put it near the one we were standing beside.  “I know before you went on vacation we told you it would be another few months, but Dr. Collins figured out a shortcut in the formulas that would fix our problems with the time targeting and transmission algorithms.”

“You mean we are ready for testing?” I asked with surprise as the spike in my gut began to disappear.  If this were true, all we’d need to send someone back would be Presidential Authorization, and this damn timeline would be over and done with.

“We were until the attack began.” Sean muttered darkly and the spike reformed.

“What do you mean?” I demanded sharply.

“The attack on the power plant caused a surge in the power lines, a surge our breakers were not totally able to prevent.” Mr. Rush explained sourly. 

“The fucking surge and a fire destroyed half of our circuit boards!” Sean exclaimed with a wave towards the counter where he’d been working when I arrived.  “We’re not going to be able to salvage most of them.  We need new ones and we don’t have the resources here to produce the four we need the most.”

“They were all made to spec by a factory and sent here.” Mr. Rush added.

“Where were they made?” I asked with a growing feel of dread.  More than likely it was somewhere already vaporized by nukes.

“Two were made in Arizona and the other in L.A.” Sean answered, proving that having the factories that made these parts being nuked wasn’t the worst.

“Well, parts of Arizona are already behind enemy lines, and the rest is now pretty much the front lines.” My tone was very sarcastic.  “L.A. will be front lines most likely by the end of the week.”

“There are several companies in the Bay Area that could make the parts we need.” Mr. Rush said and I thought about it for a moment.

“How long will they take to produce?” I asked him and he shrugged.

“If their people are still available to work and haven’t fled for the hills, and they only work on this, two or three days.”  Mr. Rush answered.

“That may be a problem.” I admitted with a frown.  “There’s a battle group heading to the Bay Area and most of the Navy we have left won’t be able to stop them in time.  They’ll land troops there in a day or two, most likely.  We’ll be trying to slow them down with air attacks and sub attacks, but I wouldn’t place too much faith in that.  They’re too well protected.”

“I have seen the machines used to make the circuit boards.”  Mr. Rush said in a slow and careful manner that meant he was thinking very hard and very carefully.  “One of my former work associates had a brother who was a manager at the plant.  They took me on a tour one time and pointed out how most of the equipment was installed.  With the right people and equipment, these machines could be put on trucks and taken somewhere safe.”

“You’re sure?” I asked him and he took a long drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray.

“I am sure.” He said in a tone that confirmed he really was certain.

“Draw up a list of things we’ll need to acquire and where they are located.” I told the two of them in a terse tone, my mind already leaping through all the things that would have to be done to fix this problem.  There was no margin for defeat here; we had to accomplish this.  “Have a runner send it up to me in the command center when you’re done.  I’m going to head over to the hospital to see how Brian’s doing, and to see what I can find out about Trevor, Brandon, and the rest of my family. I’ll head back to the command center after that and send a runner to let you know what’s going on.”

“We will be thorough.” Mr. Rush assured me and I nodded before turning to leave.  All things considered, it could have been a lot worse. 

When I reached the end of the long corridor and exited the labs through the door, I was greeted with the sight of Marine 1^st Lieutenant Tom Para.  He was talking quietly with Lindstrom and when he heard the door open, turned to face me with a grim expression.  Intuitively, I knew what he was here for as he picked up a duffel bag and waited for me to approach him.

“Lieutenant.” I greeted him with a nod of my head as he looked me over while I moved across the entryway to stand near him and the two men who had been acting as my guards.

“Mr. Jones, it’s good to see you safe.” Para said with a lingering glance at the bloody jacket I was wearing.  “With the loss of Mr. Ridgeway I’ve been assigned to oversee your guard detail.”

“Lucky you.” I muttered and got a brief smile from him for my efforts. 

“During the missile attacks, several of them fell in the residential section.” Para continued on as the smile faded from his face.  “I’m afraid your home took a direct hit, as did your office.  Most of the office is probably intact, but the building around your secure area is still on fire and won’t be accessible for several days. For your security, I’d like you to put on this uniform I scrounged up from the commissary.  Also, I’m going to have to ask you to abide by some new procedures regarding your movements.”

“What new procedures?” I asked as I took the bag he was now holding out.  A quick look inside showed some standard-issue BDU’s with boots.  Knowing how efficient Para usually was, there was little chance they wouldn’t fit me. 

“First off, you are to go nowhere without an escort of at least two Marines, unless it’s a secure facility like this one and the command center.” Para explained carefully.  “Second you are not to go above ground or move from one location above ground to another without clearing it first. When you’re above ground you’re going to have at least two Marines with you at all times, and two more will secure your destination location before you arrive.  If you need to leave this base for any reason, we’ll discuss a larger security detail based on where you’re going.”

“You’re serious?” I asked with a heavy sigh.  The question really was rhetorical, knowing that the failed attack on me meant we had sappers in the area.  I was at least one of their targets, and as long as there was a danger, I’d have to live with the security arrangements. My only response from Para was a raised eyebrow.  “Okay, I’ll abide by the procedures.”

“That’s good to hear, sir.” Para said with a slight sigh.  “Colonel North has ordered us to begin rounding up all non-citizens within fifty miles.  We’ll hold them at the town’s high school until we can sort through them and hopefully weed out any sappers among them. Once that’s done, we might be able to reconsider the limitations on your movements.”

“Sounds good, Lieutenant.” I agreed with him, although part of me winced at the idea of the roundup.  Still, the military officer in me approved whole-heartedly.  They weren’t citizens, and millions of Americans had died in a war that just started this morning.  Rounding up people and holding them while they were being interviewed wasn’t as bad as it could have been.  “Oh, Lieutenant, I was just getting ready to head to the hospital.  Will that be alright?”

“Just give us a few minutes to get it secured, sir.” Para said with a nod.  While I waited for him to make some calls from the guard station’s phones (we were too deep for the radio on his belt clip to work), I decided I could always change.  With a whispered comment to Lindstrom, I reentered the facility’s secure area and went halfway down the hall to a bathroom, changing out of my bloody clothes there.  The uniform was crisp and had that smell of being brand new.  I knew that they hadn’t even been washed yet, which meant my legs would probably have some dye on them by the end of the day.  Still, it was better than wearing blood-stained clothes. 

I even took the time to properly roll up the sleeves and to fasten the pant legs inside my boots.  They were Marine cammies, slightly different than Air Force, and I wasn’t going to piss off the Marines guarding me by wearing them sloppily.  My hair was far too long to be a Marine’s though, and I wondered if they’d make a point to try and get me to cut it when the uniform I was wearing said “US MARINES” above the right pocket. 

“We’re set to go, Mr. Jones.” Lt. Para said as I once again exited the secure lab.  A growling from my stomach reminded me that I had yet to eat for the day. 

“Do you think you can scrounge up something for me to eat?” I asked him as we filed into the elevator.  “I haven’t eaten yet, today.”

“We’ll find something for you.”  Para said. 

The Lt. exited the elevator on the level of the command center, leaving me alone with Lindstrom and the other Marine.  My ears popped slightly on the way back up to the surface, and I had to lean against the wall as a wave of exhaustion ran through me.  Not only was I getting hungry, but today had been a wild rollercoaster ride of ups and downs.  Most certainly that ride wasn’t over yet, and all the anxiety over Brian that I had been studiously ignoring was making its way back to the forefront of my mind. 

“Davey… ” His voice had been so faint that I’d barely heard it as the helicopter prepared to descend towards the base.  The medic on the chopper had done as much as he could, making sure Brian’s wound was bandaged, putting in IV line into Brian’s arm, and giving him a shot of something.  As the helicopter landed and I’d been all but pulled out of the helicopter, I’d had trouble believing what I’d heard from Brian, even with the events of that morning before he’d been shot. 

“Sir?” Lindstrom’s voice called me back to the present and I noticed we were on the main floor of the administration building, and the elevator door was open.  With a nod towards the Marine, I headed out of the elevator and towards the nearest exit.

“Sir, that direction’s blocked right now by fire crews.” The other Marine informed me rather politely and I nodded to him before following Lindstrom who led us the long away around.  Once we neared the exit I could smell the smoke from the fires, and as we reached the outside, it was so thick it was almost choking. 

With Lindstrom in the lead and the other Marine behind me, we headed towards the nearby base hospital.  I knew the building had escaped destruction by a near miss, but was surprised to see the windows had all been blown out.  Some Air Force crews were putting up plastic coverings over the gaping windows and I followed Lindstrom into the midst of chaos. 

The corridors and waiting rooms of the building were filled with men and women sporting relatively minor wounds.  Military nurses, corpsmen, and several civilians were tending to the wounded that rested either on the floor or on chairs, or any surface that would bear their weight.  Most were suffering from things like smoke inhalation, cuts on faces, arms, and upper bodies from broken glass and flying debris.  The main waiting area was now a triage ward and I felt a higher priority than bothering the workers with my questions I had. 

Smoke from the outside created a haze that hovered just below the ceiling and sunlight filtering inside created beams of light amidst the smoke.  My eyes were watery and stinging from the smoke, but I could still see clearly enough to recognize many of the faces around the room.  After a minute or two, I recognized another form currently kneeling next to a young female soldier who was clutching an oxygen mask to her face.  The man was holding one of her hands in his, and both of them had bent their heads in prayer. 

I made my way across the room towards them and waited a foot back from them for the man to finish his prayers.  When he had said “Amen”, he rose and towered above even me.  He didn’t notice me at first, and I was able to see the look on his face.  It was a look of exhaustion, of being overwhelmed, and of a fierce determination all rolled into one.  As I watched him, he ran a hand through his brown wispy hair and let out a small sigh.  With a start, he noticed me and a small smile filled his sharply defined face. 

“Davey!” My Uncle Phil said with a little surprise and some happiness. As he turned to face me I discovered he had blood stains running down his right shoulder and his arm was held against his chest. “I heard you’d made it back safely.”

“Uncle Phil, are you okay?” I asked with a nod towards his shoulder. 

“I’m fine, it’s just a bullet wound.” He answered while waving away the fact he had been shot as not important.  “It hurts like hell but the bullet went clean through and a nurse cleaned it out.  There’s too much work to be done to laze about, too many people need comforting.”

“Your arm should be in a sling.” I stated firmly, still looking up to meet his eyes.  It was weird, really having to look up to someone. My uncle was the only person I ever knew who I had to crane my neck upwards to look in the eye, no matter how tall I grew physically. 

“They gave me one, but they’re running low on supplies and one of the airman needed it more.” Uncle Phil answered with a shake of his head.  “I heard you were the one who ordered those choppers to help us at the camp.  Thanks for that, those men almost had us all when those choppers showed up.”

“How bad was it?” I asked him with concern, suddenly remembering there may be many more of my loved ones here as patients in this hospital.

“It was bad, they took us totally by surprise.” Uncle Phil said with a frown.  “They came in the trailers that we were expecting to be filled with horses.  Your Marines fought hard even though they were caught completely by surprise.  If those men hadn’t had grenade launchers, the Marines might have kicked their butts in no time.  As it was, the Marines delayed them long enough for your Dad, your Uncle Billy, a few other men and myself to get most of the women and children out of the camp.  Your mom and sister got the rest out since they were cut off on the other side of the camp. Your friends Brandon and Trevor got scuffed up some, but they’re both going to be okay according to the Doc. Billy is out there helping direct the fire crews and your Dad… well, why don’t I take you to him?”

“Is he okay?” I asked with a little worry.  Sure, my old man had been a right bastard in previous timelines, but we’d reached an accord here in this one, and he’d proven to me that he really could be a good father.  Mom… well we hadn’t spoken much in the past two years but lately there’d been some signs of hope that we might eventually reconcile.  This entire last week we’d managed to be in the camp without a single fight or cold glare.  We’d even had a couple of conversations about minor stuff that hadn’t involved any anger or fighting. 

“Your father is fine.” Uncle Phil assured me, putting his good left arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer to him before leading me down the hallway and deeper into the hospital.  Years ago it had been just a basic medical facility, but now it was a two-story building with a full laboratory and over sixty beds.  The surgery was near the back of the first floor, and it was to the adjoining recovery room that Uncle Phil led me. 

As we entered the room, I noticed a few things.  First off it was less crowded out here than it was in the rest of the hospital, but it was still filled to capacity and beyond.  The other thing I noticed was that the room was being used not only to monitor patients just out of emergency surgery, but also to store those who hadn’t made it out of surgery alive.  There were already about twenty bodies, covered in simple white sheets along the far wall, and my heart sank to my boots when I saw my father, dressed in jeans and a western collared shirt, standing over one of the bodies, holding a familiar arm in his hands and his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Somehow I made it across the room without realizing I was moving.  My father was about five inches shorter than me, and gave no indication he noticed me as I moved to stand next to him and put my left arm around him.  Dimly, I recognized that Uncle Phil was still standing on my right as I looked down at my mother’s body on the gurney.  The sheet was pulled down so her head was visible while the sheet covered the rest of her body.  Still, it was soaked with blood where it covered her chest, and I knew she’d died from some type of trauma, probably a gunshot wound to her chest.  Her face held a look of determination still, probably the expression she’d died with, and her curly brown hair still had twigs in it from the sagebrush she’d probably fallen in when she was shot. 

“She… ” Dad spoke after a long moment of quiet.  Even in here, there was the sound of groans from people in pain, and the sound of feet as medical personal moved from one patient to another.  Behind us, the doors to surgery crashed open as a patient was wheeled into the overcrowded recovery area, and there was the sound of murmurs as the nurses shared information about whatever patient it was they were moving.  All of that I took in while waiting for my father to regain control of the sobs shaking his body to continue whatever he was going to say.  “When they attacked, she was on the other side of the camp with your sister and some of the younger kids.  Sandy… she and Jenny got the kids moving into the hills.  Did you know I convinced her to buy a gun?  We were going to go target shooting later today and she had it with her.  Three of those bastards chased after her and Jenny and the kids.”

“Dad… ” I started to say but he shook his head to keep me silent as he rubbed her dead hand.  I didn’t have the nerve to touch her, even though I felt a strong need to do so. Despite everything that had gone on between us, she was my mother and I loved her.

“Davey, we know they were there after you, but it’s not your fault, just like the attack on our family years ago wasn’t your fault.” Dad said in a stern voice that would brook no argument from me.  Nor would I raise one, he’d earned the right as my father in this timeline.  “Those bastards, well they didn’t know that you just don’t attack Americans and get away without getting hurt.  Your mother, Davey, I could see the first part of it and Jenny told me the rest before they took her into surgery.”

My heart plummeted at the thought of my sister being in surgery and I half-turned to see the patient that had just been wheeled out.  It wasn’t my sister; rather another soldier who looked like he had massive burns over much of his body.  That meant my sister was still in surgery with whatever wound she’d gotten in the flight from the attackers.

“Sandy shot one of them just as your sister led the kids into that ravine on the southeast edge of the camp.” Dad continued, he still grasped her cold, dead hand in his left while he began to stroke her cheek with his right hand.  I couldn’t bear to look at his face right now for fear that I’d lose what little control I had left.  “When she shot the one, the other two took cover and your mom kept them pinned down with her little pistol while the kids got further away.  Your sister told one of the older girls to keep heading away from camp and she headed back to help your mom.  She’d shot all her bullets and was reloading when the bastards opened fire on her.  They hit her, but Jenny said she got back up, finished reloading and shot one of them just as the other one hit her again.  Your mom went down and Jenny got hit in the leg.  Somehow your sister managed to get your mom’s gun and killed the last one.  When the helicopters came I took off in the direction I saw them run and found her… it was too late.”

“I’m so sorry, Dad.” I said softly, hugging him tighter and fighting back the tears in my eyes. 

“It wasn’t really too late, though, was it?” Dad said in a whisper that barely reached my ears.  Still, Uncle Phil heard it and looked at us with a keen interest.  He didn’t know the full story, as most people didn’t know, but he knew something was… unusual about me and had maybe made some smart guesses.  “It’s not your fault it happened, Davey, but you can fix it and you need to do that.  Don’t let it fall on someone else’s head; you know this better than anyone else; you know the mistakes you made and you can make things better again.  You have to do it, son.”

“It’s… it’s not my call to make, dad.” I said with a heavy sigh, looking away from him, away from my mother and scanning the other bodies nearby.  A familiar shock of blond hair was poking out from under a sheet on a nearby gurney, and my vision suddenly narrowed until I could see nothing else.  Forgetting my father, forgetting my dead mother, forgetting everything else, I walked over to that gurney and pulled back the sheet.

His words, those last words on that helicopter, rang in my head once again right before everything went black.

As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!

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