52stories

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Maj. Ripley stared out her window down into the courtyard below. The renovations to the old hotel were almost complete, and the pavilion had been restored to a reasonable approximation of its former glory, just in time for the Presidential visit. She couldn’t help but remember how it had been before. In the evening, the pool reflected the hundreds of twinkling light that were strung in the trees. A small combo played under the tent as she and her fellow War College graduates had celebrated their graduation from a three-month intensive training program. Their new assignments had been posted, and everyone would be shipping out, but this was their last night to celebrate together. Dan drank too much, of course, and at some point Curtis ended up in the pool. Sharon yelled at them all for breaking regulation, and they all ignored her, as usual. Five years? So much had happened since then, yet she remembered that party like it was yesterday.

The door opened, and her orderly entered with a pot of steaming coffee and a stack of memos. Placing both on the desk, he saluted sharply

“Will there be anything else, maam”?

Ripley let the curtains fall across the window as she turned to face her desk in the old hotel room that served as her office.

“Thank you Sergeant. Is that the final security briefing? She asked, pointing to the briefs.

“Yes maam.” Captain Jones reports everything is GO for the President’s visit.

“I see” she mused “and tell me, do you always read the reports before I do?”

“No maam” came the deadpan reply “..only the important ones”.

Ripley had to lower her head to hide her smile. “Thank you Sergeant, that will be all.” The sergeant turned crisply on his heels and left the room, closing the door behind him.

After the comet hit, much of the city’s infrastructure was damaged or destroyed. Still, San Francisco had an easier time than many other cities. The entire eastern seaboard as far as the Mississippi River was inundated by the tsunami. Places like New York, Boston, Charleston and their mission inhabitants simply ceased to exist. In the chaos and confusion, the remaining cities were overwhelmed with the displaced. The past 5 years had been a nightmare of death and rebirth for the entire planet. Ripley and her comrades had been deployed in countless cities, supervising the relief efforts, trying to keep the chaos in check. She knew Curtis was still in Phoenix, and no one seemed to have information about Dan. Sharon was still MIA/KIA in the Salt Lake riots. And Mark, well everyone knew about Powell.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts for the second time that morning. The sergeant reappeared.

“Excuse me, ma’am, your 9 o’clock is waiting.”

Inwardly groaning, Ripley replied. “Yes of course.” The last thing she wanted to do was to spend the next hour reviewing and re-reviewing the security arrangements with the President’s Chief of Security. Everything that could be done was being done. After 4 years in this post without a serious incident, you would think that would be proof enough. Still she would have to play nice with the little sycophant. “Show him in.”

Ripley turned to gather the relevant files from her desk. Plastering her best smile on her face, she turned to face her visitor.

Four years evaporated in an instant. The man standing before her was just as she remembered. Same coal-black hair. Blue eyes. There was a scar on the left cheek she didn’t recall, but it was the same old Mark, dimples and all.

“Mark? Mark Powell? but… how?

Speech deserted her, which seemed to amuse him. “Nice to see you too, Ripley”.

She recovered her composure. “ It’s Major Ripley now.”

“Ah yes, I know. I have been following your career with some interest” came the reply.
“But from a distance, apparently.” She bit back the retort, realizing that her sergeant still held the door, waiting for her orders. “Thank you Sergeant, that will be all. The door closed behind him, leaving only the prickly silence between them. Recovering her bearings, she motioned to the chair in front of her desk. “Please do sit down. Mr. Powell.

“Oh, but it is Major Powell now as well.” Came the reply. “Don’t let the “civies” fool you. The President prefers to downplay military protocol and all, better public relations and all”.

“You don’t say”. Ripley crossed to her desk and sat down in her chair, reclining casually as if in deep thought. “So tell me, how does a former media darling and recovery effort poster boy wind up as the President’s Chief of Security?

The smile faded from his lips. “ Come on Ripley, you know that story better than anyone. You know what I had to go through to get here.”

She couldn’t let that pass. “Yeah, sure. Military background, advance training. Hand picked for two years on the “Victory” tour. Perfect little picture of what we were working for. Natural step to Press Secretary. And now, Security Chief? Yeah, a regular shop of horrors. I wonder what Dan would say? I know, maybe we should call Sharon?” She smacked her forehead in mock forgetfulness. “Oh wait, we can’t call Sharon, so Curtis then. Tell me, when was the last time you talked to Curtis? Ripley leaned forward with her elbows on her desk, a look of innocence on her face.

Powell held her gaze without flinching. “ Are you done yet? And I think you forgot someone. When was the last time I talked to you? And why? Don’t pretend that isn’t the real question here.”

Ripley felt her face begin to redden. She stood and crossed to the window, keeping her back to Powell. “ No, I think your Dear Jane covered everything. We’d been friends for a lot of years, Mark, way back from Officer’s Basic.’

“Yeah, I remember” he answered. “Close friends.” And close they had been. Sympatico ..sons of a different mother, their CO used to say. Even though they saw each other more than a few times a year, they had stayed in contact by e-mail. Then, by some chance of fate, assigned to the same class at War College. And they quickly picked up where they left off. Only this time, there was something different.

Ripley gazed down at the pool below her window and back across the years. She wasn’t sure how it happened, only that it had seemed natural, inevitable that one night, instead of heading to her quarters after a late dinner, she found herself at Mark’s. Yes, she knew about Julie, the girl back home. After all, how many times had she listened to him describe the ins and outs of that relationship. They were mostly out, anyway. Working side by side during the day, and the nights in bed together, and the final two months of War College passed in a blur. That final party, those 4 years ago was probably the happiest she had been in her life. Two weeks later, the comet hit, and the world changed forever.

Ripley let the curtains fall and turned to face Powell. “But all good things. I suppose.” And hey – sure has worked out great for you. Hand picked by the President, The “Face of Hope”. Actually, I guess that should be faces – you and Julie, right? Poster child for the Recovery. And now, Major – Chief of Security for the President. Well done!” She could barely keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“It wasn’t like that, and you know it. For Christ’s sake, you were reported KIA?” What did you expect me to do?” He fairly jumped to his feet and paced in agitation.

She didn’t back down. “Two months? That’s all it took? TWO months?

Powell interrupted. “You know better than I what things were like after the impact?”

“Yeah. Lucky you. Safe at home on your 5 day pass when it hit. And while you waited it out from the comfort of your parent’s house with your girlfriend, the rest of us were deployed. Dan, Curtis, Sharon and I were shipped to Salt Lake. Only Sharon didn’t make it back” she spat.

Powell inhaled sharply, as if he had been hit. He clenched his fists as he struggling to control his anger. “Yeah – it was a real picnic there just close enough to the impact point as to be barely survivable. What the shockwave and earthquake didn’t level, the flooding washed away. My father “ his voice broke. “My father died the first day. Mom lingered for a week before she passed. No food, no medicine, no hope.”

But there had been hope, and Mark was the architect of that hope for his hometown. He had organized the citizens, directed the search efforts, and when help arrived weeks later, had been singled out as the “Face of Hope.” Well, not exactly singled. When Julie had announced her pregnancy, the couple became media darlings. Baby number 2 came along the following year. The past 2 years as part of the Presidential Staff had been a whirlwind.

Mark came to stand next to her at the window. “I tried to find you, as soon as communications had been restored. But all the reports said you were KIA in Salt Lake.”

“Yeah, well reports of my death were greatly exaggerated” Ripley cracked. But not by much, actually. She was not expected to survive initially. Two months in a coma, loosing her right leg and eye, but somehow against the odds, she slowly recovered. “And you know, in all that time, I just knew you would be there waiting for me. So you can imagine the shock of your letter. Julie, pregnant… you married…interesting how the physical wounds heal faster than the other.”

He didn’t flinch. “You weren’t the only one wounded. I had to make a choice and I made it. It wasn’t about just you and me anymore. The comet changed all that. But don’t you think for one minute that I don’t know the price of that choice.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds as the anger slowly drained away. Ripley spoke first. “So where does that leave us?”

A glimmer of a smile crossed his face. “Well, I sure have missed my old friend. Maybe we could start there?”

The phone on her desk began to ring at the same time her pager began to beep and Powell’s cell phone began to ring. There were loud footsteps in the corridor and her door burst open, and a clearly agitated sergeant and Captain Reynolds, her chief aid, spilled into the room.

“What in the blazes? Ripley began.

“Sorry maam” began the Captain.

“It’s the President. He’s been kidnapped” finished Powell,