Death Card. Nick L. Sacco

well-dressed gentleman said, peeling off some dollar bills and laying them on the table. “I spoke with a cop at the intersection outside when I was parking my car. He said the word going around is that hackers have crashed everything. He said it was causing a huge mess,” the man said, opening his hands out wide for emphasis. “Probably the Chinese. Whoever it is, I just hope they fix it quick. I get grumpy when I miss my reality shows,” he said, letting out a laugh and heading toward the door.

      Maggie reached across the table and tugged on Charlie’s wrist. “Finish what you started to say in the car about the president.”

      Charlie began to fidget with a salt shaker, switching it from hand to hand. Raising his dark blue eyes to meet hers, Charlie began to speak in a hushed tone.

      “All the rights we enjoy as American citizens can be taken away in a second, Maggie. President Barakat doesn’t need a national emergency to impose an executive order to suspend the Constitution. However, if something does happen or an incident is created, then he looks less evil. You know, the incident sort of justifies his actions.”

      “Why does this sound familiar? Refresh my memory, Mister History Wizard.”

      For a moment, Charlie stared at Maggie with a look of stunned silence, his mouth hanging open. Then, placing the tip of two fingers under his chin, he deliberately, and in a very animated manner, began to push his mouth closed.

      “Did you have mono and miss history class as a child?” Charlie asked sarcastically.

      “History wasn’t one of my strong subjects or interests,” Maggie said, pointing a fork threateningly in Charlie’s direction. “That’s why I went to journalism school. I keep you around to tell me what famous dead people did in the past.”

      Charlie looked around, taking an inventory of the people near them, before speaking. “In 1933, Adolph Hitler employed the Enabling Act, which immediately gave him dictatorial powers. It would be the same if the commander in chief were to act on an executive order. It is basically the same thing. On paper, activating the executive order makes the president a dictator by eliminating our democratic process and putting the kibosh on the Constitution.”

      Charlie paused for a moment to give Maggie a chance to think about what he had just said.

      Maggie took a drink of water, the glass shaking in her hand. “You are right, Charlie. Now I really am scared to death. I mean, look at what’s happened. That Koontz woman gave us our new Bible, ordered the public execution of a well-known journalist, and now Washington is beginning to look like an armed camp.”

      Charlie’s intensive gaze on Maggie was suddenly drawn past her to the sound of loud voices inside the front door, where a small crowd had gathered.

      “Stay here,” Charlie ordered. He walked to stand at the edge of the small crowd. One man seemed to be the center of attention, waving his arms and speaking loudly.

      As Maggie watched Charlie stand, his hands folded, she felt some degree of safety. Charlie wasn’t just some desk jockey like other guys she knew who spent their days on the phone and in front of a computer. Charlie belonged to the 1 percent of Americans who had served in the US military. He had been an Army Ranger before being wounded in Somalia several years before. Maggie met him when he was a war correspondent embedded with an infantry unit in Iraq. It was during the invasion and then occupation of the war-torn country.

      Charlie, camera running, never hesitated to follow a squad of battle-hardened soldiers as they raced from a burned-out car to the alleyway of a building. Charlie would turn the camera on himself and give a cool account of the action, a wall pockmarked by bullet holes as his backdrop.

      Charlie had been home preparing for a new assignment in Afghanistan when a horrible life-changing event happened in Charlie’s life. His young wife, Kathy, a nurse in the neonatal unit of a pediatric hospital, was tragically killed by a drunk driver. She was driving home after an evening shift at the hospital when the other driver, who had more DUI convictions than most people had socks, blasted through a red light. Kathy had barely held onto life, sinking into a coma on the way to the hospital. The drunk, however, had stumbled from the wreckage of his piece-of-shit pickup truck with a broken nose. His blood alcohol content was four times higher then the legal limit, and the floor of his rig was scattered with beer cans and empty whiskey bottles.

      Kathy had lingered in the ICU on a breathing machine for weeks. Maggie had sat quietly with Charlie at the hospital until the fateful day Charlie made the decision to turn off the life support. He had sat alone in her room long after the doctor and nurses had gone. Maggie waited outside the hospital for Charlie for hours but finally left, deciding Charles wasn’t going to leave the hospital anytime soon.

      Maggie was waiting in the wings when Charlie decided some months later to step out of the shadow of his wife’s death and return to his life and career.

      Charlie was still standing on the fringe of the circle of people as the man continued to rant and rage. Several people in the crowd, including Charlie, asked questions. Finally, Charlie began walking back toward Maggie, a look of deadly seriousness on his face. As Charlie threw some money on the table, he motioned to Maggie that it was time to go. Grabbing her purse, Maggie joined him as they elbowed their way back through the crowd and onto the sidewalk.

      “That guy is a limo driver, and he just came from picking up some big shot at Dulles. Says they’re shutting down the airport. No flights in and no flights out. He also said the airport is surrounded by armed troops.”

      “What? Why would the armed forces surround the airport?”

      “I have no idea. But it’s not just the army, Maggie. Homeland Security is on the streets as well. And who are those guys with the National Security Force? I have never heard of that agency before.”

      “I hadn’t heard of them either until I ran across those NSF agents at the checkpoint,” Maggie said.

      “So what now, Charlie? What’s the plan?” she asked, clutching her purse close.

      “I think it would be safest if you stay at my place tonight. Then tomorrow we can listen to the president’s speech, just like that crazy woman Koontz told us to do. The president’s speech will hopefully clear this whole mess up. I just hope it doesn’t confuse things even more. In any event, we will know where we stand.”

      As they walked through the dark toward Charlie’s car, a police helicopter hovered just a couple of blocks away. Its bright spotlight flickered back and forth illuminating the street below. A voice blared over its loudspeaker warning people to remain in their homes.

       Chapter 4

      

      “MESSAGE,” the voice said loudly. Startled, Charlie opened his eyes but remained motionless on his oversized couch, still wearing his clothes from the evening before. The light filtering through the living room window of his apartment told him it was early morning. “MESSAGE,” the voice repeated, but louder and with more annoyance in its voice.

      Charlie sat up straight, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

      “MESSAGE!” screamed the voice, clearly pissed off this time. Charlie reached out and snatched his cell phone off the coffee table. He couldn’t remember why he had chosen such an annoying message ring tone, but it sure did the job.

      He began to eagerly read, hoping for any bit of information about what was going on.

      TUNE INTO YOUR LOCAL TELEVISION OR RADIO STATION AT NOON EASTERN STANDARD TIME FOR AN EMERGENCY MESSAGE FROM PRESIDENT MARCUS BARAKAT. LIVE STREAMING VIDEO OF THE PRESIDENT’S IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT AVAILABLE AT HTTP:// WWW.WHITEHOUSE.GOV.

      Charlie lay back on his couch and covered his eyes with his forearm. He still couldn’t believe he and Maggie had witnessed the killing of Phillip Elliot. Charlie had hoped it was just a bad dream. It wasn’t.

      Charlie