40 Minutes Out

"This is about to get interesting."

I continued to stare out the window of Marine One, scanning the river below for any sign of suspicious activity. Meanwhile the other helicopters danced around, carefully concealing which of their number carried the passenger.

Next to me he chuckled, "I know I shouldn't say that, it's just... it's the only thing I can think of."

My earpiece buzzed. "ETA at Safe Haven 40 minutes."

"Copy." I replied stoically.

"We have to do it." He continued to mumble, talking to no one in particular anymore, "After all, we know they're going to. The JFK detected a sub just outside of California. Why would it be there if they weren't planning to do it first?"

I idly wondered if he really should be telling me all this. Then again, I suppose he's in charge.

"Subs in the Pacific, subs in the Atlantic," he intoned, "and bases all across their countryside. The best thing we can do is his the ones we can see and intercept the rest."

I didn't respond. I thought I saw someone lurking on the shore of the river, but it was just wishful thinking.

"We have to strike first." He asserted, staring at the floor, wringing his hands. "If we don't, things will be a million times worse for us. For them too. Less bodies. Millions rather than billions."

"Mr. President." I said, looking away from the window for the first time that flight. He looked up at me, his face hardened into a cold mask. "Mr. President, do you regret this?"

"No." He replied solemnly, truthfully.

I relaxed, my conscience clear. As I removed the pistol from my holster, I took comfort in the Vice President's opposition to the President's decision.

"Then this is about to get interesting."