Suicide Mission

Suicide Mission

by Melanie Brown
Copyright  © 2015 Melanie Brown

John is offered a chance to deliver revenge.


 

“Sing Do Do Do.”

“You bet, big guy,” I said to my five year old son Brandon, as I knelt by his bed. He smiled at me with his big sleepy eyes. And of course, he was asking for Brahms’ Lullaby. I had no idea what the words were, so I’d just sing “Do da Do, da Do Dooo…” so the kids called it the “Do Do Do” song.

I can’t really sing and I’m sure I was butchering the crap out of the song, but Brandon only smiled and snuggled more into his pillow. As I sang, I gently stroked his hair with my fingers.

When I finished, I was hoping he was fast asleep as my knees were starting to hurt. When my voice finally faded away with the last note, Brandon propped open one eye and said, “Is Mommy in Heaven?”

A lump locked my throat for a moment. I took a deep breath and smiled through my sudden sadness. I said, “Yes. Yes she is.”

Brandon closed his eyes and pulled his covers up a bit. In almost a whisper, he said, “Will we see her again?”

Trying to keep from crying and finding it hard to talk with my throat locking up, I said, “If we’re good.”

He smiled and mere moments later was asleep. I allowed several tears to roll down my cheeks. Just last week, his mother - my wife Kristi and his three year old little brother Timmy were killed in a horrible, useless car accident. Brandon was now my only reason to exist. When he smiled, I could see my beautiful wife’s smile.

I looked over at the now empty crib. The new bunk bed they were going to start sleeping in was still in its box in the garage. I stood up and walked over to the crib. I reached inside and picked up “Mr. Bear” and touched my lips against the stuffed bear’s head. I cried.

 

*          *          *

 

“Dad?”

I turned from a news program I was watching on TV and said, “What’s up, Bran?” He was sitting at the kitchen table attempting to do some math homework. My God, when did he get to be twelve?

“I’m just not getting Algebra.” Brandon paused a moment and watched the TV for a few moments. He continued, “Wow. Why are all those cars on fire?”

“It’s that stupid domestic terrorist group, The New Utopians. They’ve torched several new car lots up there in Seattle,” I said, turning back to the TV.

“Why are they doing that?” said Brandon tapping his pencil on his homework paper.

I shrugged and said, “Who knows? To get attention most likely. They think they can create a utopia through violence.”

Brandon twisted his face and said, “That’s stupid. What’s a utopia anyway?”

I got up to look at Brandon’s math problem. I said, “It’s something that can’t exist because it denies human nature.”

Brandon looked up at me and said, “But what if you could? What would a utopia be?”

I bent over and rested my arms on the kitchen table so I could get a better look at his Algebra problem. I said, “A world with no hunger, no crime and no wants.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” said Brandon.

I shrugged and said, “Sounds like a bland, soulless world to me. And how great can it be if you have to destroy property and kill people to get it?”

Brandon gave me a sly look and said, “Do they have Algebra in a utopia?”

I laughed and said, “Probably not.”

Grinning, Brandon said, “Sounds good to me!”

Ruffling his hair and laughing, I said, “Okay. Which problem are you having trouble with?”

 

*          *          *

 

“John?”

I looked up from the computer screen in my office and said, “Hey, what’s up Jeff?”

“What school does your son go to?” said Jeff with a look of concern on his face.

Feeling suddenly alarmed, I said, “Roy Hinkley Middle School. Why?” A wave of dread rolled over me.

Jeff looked at the floor then back to me and said, “I heard on the radio that a school bus that just loaded up with students at that school was…ah…was attacked by those domestic terrorists, The New Utopians. There’s no word on …”

I didn’t hear the rest of what Jeff said as I was already running from my office. As I ran towards my car, I was muttering, “Oh God Oh God oh God…Please dear God let Brandon be okay…” Tears in my eyes made driving difficult. Horns blared as I ran stop signs and red lights. In the distance, I could hear emergency vehicles.

Around the school was a zoo. Cars clogging traffic as worried and frightened parents were trying to rush to the school. I abandoned my car and ran. As I neared the school, my heart sank. Parked right in front of the school’s door was a school bus ablaze with one side ripped open. Bodies of kids were scattered around the burning bus. Teachers were yelling to students to stay back and pulling injured or dead kids away from the fire.

A teacher tried to block me from getting closer. I shoved him hard to where he fell backwards and I shouted, “Fuck you! My kid’s in there!” I ran, almost blinded from tears. I ran from kid to kid trying to find Brandon. And there he was, lying on the curb near the bus. I saw him move as I rushed up to him. I barely noticed the several explosions happening around the school.

I knelt next to Brandon and held him close to me. He was leaving a large pool of blood dripping down the curb.

“Brandon!” I screamed as I held him. His face was burned and he was bleeding badly from a gash in his side. My hands and shirt was covered in his blood. “Oh my God! Brandon, hold on! Help is on the way.” That’s when I noticed there were no longer the sounds of emergency vehicles.

Someone to my side said was running past me talking on his phone. I heard him as he said, “Oh my God. They’ve attacked the ambulances too to block any help from getting here! Those fuckers!”

I held him close and said softly, “Hold on, Bran. Hold on. Please Bran, hold on.”

In a soft voice that I could barely hear, Brandon said, “Dad?”

I lowered my head closer to him so I could hear above all the chaos around us. I said, “I’m here, son.”

He said, “Can you sing Do Do Do?”

I said, “Sure, if it will comfort you.” Now that he was fourteen, he didn’t want bedtime songs anymore. It’d been a couple of years since I’d sang for him.

I held him close to me and sang softly into his ear, “Do da do, da do doo…” I was almost to the end when Brandon’s body went limp and became very still.

“No! Oh God no!” I cried out. I pulled his lifeless body close to me and cried harder than I’ve ever done in my life.

 

*          *          *

 

“John?”

“Yes, Major?” I said as I stood at stiff attention in Major Sanderson’s office.

“At ease, captain,” said Major Sanderson. He was speaking strangely soft and quiet. “I…ah, I have a new assignment for you.”

I grinned at the Major and said, “I’m ready, sir.”

Major Sanderson came around his desk and sat on the edge of it. He looked at me and then at the floor for a moment before looking back at me. He said, “I don’t think you are quite ready for this mission, captain. But you are uniquely qualified for this assignment. This is a suicide mission, captain.”

I grinned and said, “Another one, sir?”

Forcing a humorless smile, the major said, “I don’t think you’ll be coming back from this one, John.”

Literally the day after I lost Brandon, I enlisted in the counter-insurgency forces. I was just six months under the age limit that they’d accept. Because of my degree and the fact that they desperately needed my skill sets, I was brought in as an officer.

For the last three years, our nation has been at war with an insurgency unlike anything we’ve ever encountered before. Almost all the whole west coast states were under the New Utopia’s control. Not through military occupation, though they do possess a military. They instead have taken over political parties where the governor of three states are New Utopians. Media outlets and schools are managed by New Utopians.

Their military doesn’t wear a uniform. It operates as street gangs, terrorizing citizens, disrupting communications, burning cars and killing people at random. They receive direct aid in the form of munitions, weapons, explosives and other supplies from places like Iran and Libya and financial support funneled through Canadian channels.

I’ve since made a name for myself with my brutality towards the enemy. All I wanted was to kill as many of the New Utopians as possible before dying myself. I was not afraid of death. My only reason to live died in my arms. Right then I decided I was no longer going to sit passively by. These people were pure evil and I was going to kill them.

I shrugged and said, “I’m ready to die.”

There was a long silence as Major Sanderson just sat on his desk and stared at me. Finally, in a quiet voice he said, “We have her, John. We have Nicola Peterson.”

I suddenly felt weak in my knees. I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Finally I said in a whispered yell, “You what? You have her? And she’s still breathing? With all due respect, sir, why isn’t that bitch dead? She shouldn’t be sitting in some cell getting fed and watching TV. That fucking bitch needs to die! Slowly and painfully.”

Frowning, Major Sanderson said, “Calm down, John. Let me explain. What we’re…”

My anger out of control I screamed at Major Sanderson, “That worthless piece of shit killed my son! She was the one that planned and executed that attack! She’s responsible for the death of thousands!”

Major Sanderson slid off his desk and got in my face and yelled, “You’re out of order captain! You stand there and you listen to me, soldier! She will die. This is where you come in.”

Major Sanderson stepped back a few paces from me. He said, “We have a plan. It’s insane, but it’s our best hope to end this insurgency. I truly believe only you have a chance at success. It would certainly fail with anyone else. You don’t give a shit if you die and that makes you scary. You have no mercy for the enemy. No remorse. And no hesitation. That’s what I’m counting on.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

Frowning, Major Sanderson said, “I’m not finished. You’re going to think I’m crazy and you’ll probably reject the idea at first. But we have an opportunity coming up in a few weeks to decimate the New Utopians and end their terror. From Iran and transported through Canada, they have acquired long range missiles that we know are aimed at the southeast part of the country. In their own labs, they are making gallons of the nerve agent XJ-F4A to put in the warheads. When this stuff goes aerosol, that much of it can kill tens of millions in a matter of hours with no known anti-dote. We need you to deliver the devices that will prevent those missiles’ launch. We want those missiles to explode in their silos and flood the facility with the nerve agent.

“But this is the real mission for you. It’s a golden opportunity and it’s imperative that it doesn’t fail. That’s why I’m enlisting you for it. In a few weeks, all the heads of the New Utopians will be gathered in their underground headquarters, including Jonas Peterson.”

Jonas Peterson was the husband to Nicola Peterson. Their fanaticism formed this movement The New Utopians to subjugate everyone into their view of utopia. Jonas is an extremely charismatic speaker and easily influenced people, mostly teens and college students, to join his movement.

“So what? Nobody’s getting in there,” I said. “Believe me; I’d gladly walk into a death trap if I knew I could take out their entire leadership. But, with their security, it’s not like I’ll just be able to walk in there with a bomb.”

“You can’t. But Nicola Peterson can,” said the major.

I looked at Major Sanderson with a puzzled expression. I said, “You don’t really think you can turn her, do you? That bitch is as hardcore as they come.”

The major looked away and stared at the floor and said, “We’re not going to try to turn her. This is where you come in.”

I gave the major a sideling glance and said, “I’m not sure I follow you.”

The major cleared his throat and said, “We’ve just made a major medical advance. It’s our most closely guarded secret. John, we can…we can put your brain inside her head which will allow you infiltrate all the way to the very heart of the organization!”

I stood there, dumbfounded. I said, “Excuse me, sir? I thought I heard you say you want to put my brain in Nicola Peterson’s head.”

“Precisely, captain,” said Major Sanderson with a straight face. “She’s the number two in their organization. Completely trusted and able to pass any biometric security check. And look at this…” The major held up a large, expensive looking purse that had been behind his desk. “We made a duplicate of Peterson’s purse out of a synthetic explosive cloth. It only weighs a pound more than her original purse. It has the same lethal force as ten pounds of C-4.”

“This sounds like something from a bad science fiction movie, Major,” I said, trying to figure out who would come up with such a hare-brained scheme.

“Not really, John,” said Major Sanderson. “Once the last person is in the conference room inside the sealed bunker, you set off the bomb that your purse is made of. The concussion will kill everyone in the room.” He shrugged and continued, “Including you as well, I’m afraid.”

I picked up the purse and examined it more closely. I said, “Wasn’t something like this attempted to try to kill Hitler, but it failed?”

Major Sanderson said, “That’s because they set off the bomb in a wooden building with windows. That won’t happen this time.”

I raised my eyebrow and set the purse on Major Sanderson’s desk. I said, “Are you sure about that?”

The major shrugged and said, “No plan ever survives contact with the enemy. But it’s the best chance we have to take out their leadership.”

“How reliable is your intel?” I asked. “How would you even know this?”

The major sat back down in his chair and leaned back. He said, “We have a couple of people on the inside. Their situation is extremely delicate. They’re not invited to the meeting and there’s no way to deliver a bomb to them anyway.”

“And you really believe this grade B Sci-Fi movie plot of transferring brains is possible?” I asked.

Major Sanderson leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. He said, “We’ve done it with test subjects. TNU prisoners; males into females. Highly successful and reliable operation.”

“And her brain?” I asked. “Are you just tossing it?”

The major shook his head and said, “No. We plan to put it into your body. At least for now.”

“And as Nicola, I just waltz into the facility the day of the meeting? Won’t that send up red flags to them?” I said.

“That would, yes,” said Major Sanderson. “We’re going to arrange a little escape for Nicola Peterson in a few days and she’ll be picked up by TNU forces. John, look. I’ll lay it all out for you. For two, maybe three weeks, you’re going to have to live the life of Nicola Peterson. That means being Jonas’ wife. That means intimacy with Jonas and whatever else they do together. This mission will really put your resolve to destroy this threat to the acid test.”

I screwed up my face in disgust and said, “What? You mean I have to kiss Jonas and let him fuck me?” I stood up and rested my fists on the major’s desk as I leaned in towards his face and shouted, “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I paused a moment and in a quieter voice, I said, “Sir.”

Major Sanderson narrowed his eyes and with a scowl quietly said, “At ease, captain!” Leaning back in his chair, he continued, “To answer your question, yes, I am out of my fucking mind. I’m sending one of my best into a living hell and then to his death. But no one has bigger balls than you, John. Nobody hates the New Utopians more than you.”

Still leaning on my fists, I said, “When do we start?”

Major Sanderson smiled up at me and said, “Tonight.”

 

*          *          *

 

“It was a success major,” said a strange male voice. The voice sounded both distant and nearby. “See? She’s trying to open her eyes.”

“At least her head works,” said a voice that sounded like Major Sanderson. “The rest has to work too.”

I tried to open my eyes, but it was hard and all I could see were blurry images. I tried to move my finger, but it felt like it weighed a ton. I was incredibly sleepy.

“Do you doubt my skills, major?” said the other male voice.

“No. But three of your test subjects died,” said the major.

“Fft! Technicalities!” said who I had to guess was the surgeon.

They’re talking about me. I was alive in someone else’s body. That horrible woman’s body. That impossible pipe-dream of medical science had actually happened.

Major Sanderson said, “Let’s go check on the other one.”

I drifted back to sleep.

 

*          *          *

 

“How do you feel?” asked Major Sanderson as I lay on the hospital bed.

I frowned and said, “Like a billion spiders are under my skin trying to get out.”

Major Sanderson smiled and said, “At least it’s only a billion.” He laughed at his very tiny joke.

Noticing the long hair lying on either side of my face on the pillow I said, “How did he keep the hair? He had to open the head, right?”

The major said, “Well, Nicola couldn’t just show up with a shaved head.”

Another face came into view. He said, “Yes. Instead of just shaving your head, I cut your scalp around the hair line. At least on you. Your old body, I shaved for expediency. I also injected a long lasting anti-rejection agent so your body won’t try to reject your brain.”

I nodded and got an instant headache. I said, “Yeah, having my brain rejected would be bad.”

Major Sanderson came up closer and said, “We’ll let you get some rest. Doctor Fine says you need to get some bed rest for at least two days before he’ll let you get up…”

Interrupting, Dr. Fine said, “You really need a month of bed rest, but the major informs me we don’t have that kind of time. What’s sad is that we won’t see the long term effects.”

Major Sanderson placed his hand on Dr. Fine’s shoulder and said, “Let’s go. Hey, at least you have your other test subjects to play with.” They turned to walk away.

Before they left my room, I could barely hear that Dr. Fine said, “No I don’t. They both killed each other last night. A murder/suicide…”

 

*          *          *

 

I sat up in the hospital bed. The weight of my breasts shifting bothered me as it was something that I naturally had never had to deal with before. I touched them and I have to admit that I enjoyed the sensation of being felt there. I knew what I’d find as I slid my hand down to my crotch. Sliding my fingers across my pussy felt incredibly weird. After a life-time of feeling your cock between your legs, finding a pussy that you can slip your fingers into is very disquieting to say the least.

As I moved to stand up from the bed, long strands of raven hair cascaded across my shoulders and tits. As I tried to stand, I felt disoriented for a few moments. My color perception was off and at first I couldn’t figure out why everything seemed to be viewed at the wrong angle. Then I realized that I was much shorter than I used to be.

I let my hospital gown drop to the floor and I looked down at this new body I was in. Perky, round boobs projected from my chest. I felt my face and was surprised at how smooth it felt. A few unsteady steps led me to the bathroom. The IV stuck in my hand was on wheels and it followed along with me.

Inside the bathroom was a small wall mirror made of polished metal instead of glass. I looked at myself and saw the beautiful, but very evil face of Nicola Peterson. Looking at that face made my blood boil. It didn’t matter that I was now inside it. It was still her face. I screamed at it and pounded my fist against the mirror. I looked for anything I could lift to pound against the mirror as I continued to yell at the image in it. I began to cry uncontrollably as I kept hitting the mirror and screaming.

I was suddenly no longer alone in the bathroom. I heard someone say, “Calm down, ma’am. Please.”

I felt a stick in my arm and then nothing.

 

*          *          *

 

“Well, well, captain. Don’t you look spiffy,” said Major Sanderson.

“Thank you, sir,” I said as we walked down a seemingly endless corridor as I joined Major Sanderson. I was dressed in the uniform of a female officer. The somewhat tight, knee length skirt was restricting my stride, causing me to walk a bit faster to stay up with the major.

“How’s your training coming, captain?” asked the major.

I pointed at my face and said, “Take a gander. I did the make-up all by myself. The training on how to walk and speaking with female inflections went well too. The crash course on the mannerisms of Nicola was probably the hardest. Without the memory implants, I think this job would be impossible at such short notice.”

We stopped in front of a door with a guard standing on either side. Major Sanderson said, “Are you sure you want to go through with this? It might be difficult for you.”

I stared straight ahead at the door and said, “Open it.”

As we entered the room, I tried not to display any hint of a reaction though it was quite a shock to see myself lying on a hospital bed. They had my body wearing leg irons and handcuffed. My face smiled at me when we entered the room.

It was eerie hearing my voice laugh and it wasn’t me laughing. From my body, Nicola Peterson said, “Well, isn’t this rich! I look rather sharp in a military uniform. I guess I’m wearing your body, whoever you are? I haven’t seen myself, but I knew something was different when I discovered I have a cock.”

I walked up to my body lying in bed. I just looked at my body. It was just plain eerie to see my own body seemingly self-animated. I really couldn’t accept the reality of seeing my own body moving because someone else’s brain was in my head. There was a sense of detachment in seeing my own body from a few feet away.

Before I’d been released from the hospital bed, I’d come to terms with now being a woman. Yes, I had played with my tits and pussy. Honestly, what male wouldn’t play with these new found toys? I really didn’t care for wearing a bra and I disliked wearing make-up. But I had too for the mission, and even now, it was a required part of the female uniform which the brass insisted I wear before I went undercover.

My face smiled at me and my voice said, “Are you just going to stare? Am I that handsome? Can someone get me a mirror? I might want to try jerking off to myself. Hell, I’d even do you if I wasn’t all chained up.”

I shook my head and said, “Who I am isn’t important. I know you don’t give a shit about such things, but there was a boy, a young man of fourteen with hopes and dreams and his biggest worry was if he had passed a big math test that day. The day you murdered him three years ago. His name was Brandon. I just thought it was important you knew that.”

With mock concern, Nicola said, “Aww. Such a sweet story. Was Brandon your son? You’re right. I don’t give a shit. Little Brandon wasn’t the only imperialist brat I killed that day. I’ve killed many more since. And I’ll keep killing them until you people finally wake up and accept our vision of utopia.”

“No,” I said pointing a finger at Nicola. It was strange to see nail polish on my hand. “This ends! I’m seeing to it that you kill no more kids.”

“How? You think you can just walk in looking like me and poof! end it? Jonas will know immediately it’s not me.” Nicola looked at me and laughed.

“I don’t think so,” I said with a confidence I wasn’t totally sure I felt. “While we had your brain out, we were able to extract the holographic memory overlays of the times you were intimate with Jonas, the way you talk to people as well as walk, sit and even take a shit. Those overlays have been implanted in my brain. I now know all those little things you like to do to your hubby in bed and more.” I smiled and said, “Jonas is my husband now.”

Nicola shook her restraints. It just felt so weird to see my body animated without me inside. She screamed, “Fuck you! Whatever you have planned won’t work. We’re not stupid, you know.”

I backhanded her and said, “No. Fuck you. I’m going to fuck your husband, and then I’m going to fuck your organization. It’s over.”

Then before anyone could react, I pulled a small automatic pistol from my jacket pocket and pumped a round in each lung of my old male body and a round in each leg. I shouted, “That’s for Brandon, you sick bitch!” The guards immediately moved in and pulled the pistol from my grasp.

Trying to gasp for air and with a shocked look on my old face, Nicola said in a raspy voice, “You shot your own body?”

“I’m not coming back so I have nothing to lose,” I said as guards grabbed each arm. “I have nothing to lose and now you’ll die slowly and painfully like my son.”

 

*          *          *

 

“You know we weren’t through interrogating her, right?” said Major Sanderson.

“I just could not let her breathe one more time, major,” I said. “You wouldn’t have gotten anything out of her anyway. Besides, the holographic impressions are better than any interrogation.”

Major Sanderson frowned and said, “Still. You didn’t have to kill her. What if you come back?”

“You assured me I wouldn’t,” I said.

“I’ve been wrong before, captain. I hope I’m wrong this time too. Or I did. I don’t know what I want now,” said the major. “Okay, look. In a few hours you make your dramatic jail break. The New Utopians have been watching this facility pretty closely. I imagine that you’ll be picked up within the hour. Let’s go over the rest of it again, one more time.

“First, communications. Inside your head and the other operative, we have implanted a radio device. It’s currently in passive listening mode to make it harder to detect. Yours is the control unit. Just before you go into the meeting, say ‘active on’. You can just whisper it. That will put the device in active mode. That way we can communicate with you and the other operative will know to go into action.

“Now, once you are inside their headquarters, play wifey with your hubby, of course and put his mind at ease. A few hours before the meeting, our operative inside will be standing next to a candy machine. Get candy out of the machine and drop this fake candy bar. Inside the wrapper are devices that will over-ride the functioning of the silos. He’s responsible for changing the devices as he already works in that part of the facility. He should be able to get these in place well before the meeting. He’s also going to lock the ventilation system to all be open to expose as much of the facility to the nerve agent as possible when the missiles explode inside the silos.”

“Does this guy have an escape route?” I asked. “Maybe I can help him get out.”

Major Sanderson shook his head and said, “If everything goes to plan, you’ll already be dead. When you set off your bomb, he’ll launch the missiles remotely from the auxiliary launch room, where they’ll explode inside the silos. He’ll have to manually over-ride the ventilation system. He can’t do this ahead of time as it will set off alarms. The nerve agent will flood most of the facility, but not where the meeting will be taking place.”

Frowning, I said, “So this is a one way trip for him as well.”

Running fingers through his thinning hair, Major Sanderson said, “Yes. This is a costly mission. You two aren’t the only ones we’ll probably lose on this. It’s very critical we succeed. Those clowns in D.C. have finally realized there’s no political solution to this. It’s up to you to end it, John.”

“Just have your counter offensive ready major,” I said. “I will get this done.”

 

*          *          *

 

“I thought we’d never see you again,” said the New Utopian officer sitting across from me in the helicopter. “We got wind of your pending execution, so we broke protocol and just attacked the detention facility. We were surprised how weak the defending forces were.”

“I appreciate you rescuing me, Captain Paulk,” I said. Thank God for these memory implants so I’d know who this joker was. He was responsible for the Milwaukee Massacre. I really wanted very much to put a bullet in him. I said, “The commander of that facility is starting to go rogue. He doesn’t have the support from the regular military any longer. The winds are changing, captain. The wimpy politicians in Washington are wavering. After our demonstration, they’ll capitulate.” That’s our cover story anyway.

Captain Paulk smiled a wide, toothy grin. He leaned back against the side of the helicopter and said, “That demonstration will be a beautiful thing. Glorious!”

I smiled and said, “Glorious indeed.”

A couple of hours later, our helicopter set down at a small, civilian air port. Several SUVs were waiting at the landing site. Standing by the pad, waiting was Jonas Peterson. Mixed feelings ran through me as I looked at him as they killed power to the helicopter rotor.

I hated his guts. He was the reason for so many deaths and so much destruction. But, even if my purse had a pistol in it, I wouldn’t dare shoot him. Not yet.

But on the other hand, and I was warned about this by Dr. Fine, my heart jumped when I saw my husband. Yes, my husband. The doc warned that with my brain, now living in an estrogen filled universe, some of my attitudes and emotions might shift. Add into the mix, the memory implants so I’d know exactly how I should react after being separated from him for an extended time. He was a gorgeous man and I loved him deeply. But despite this, I knew these feelings were only there to get me past the door. They would not over-ride my mission. The memory of holding Brandon was much stronger.

As I jumped from the helicopter, I ran towards my husband squealing, “Jonas my love! I’ve missed you so much!” I threw my arms around his neck and we kissed deeply, despite being surrounded by subordinates.

“Oh Nicola!” said Jonas when he came up for air. “I was so afraid I’d lost you to those barbarians.” He kissed me again. He pulled away and held me at arm’s length. He looked over me and said, “Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

I ran my fingers through his hair and smiled sweetly to him. I said, “No my love. After many hours of questioning, which I refused to answer they gave up. They are weak. They wouldn’t torture a woman.”

Jonas smiled and said, “Yes. They are weak. You’ve heard that many in Washington are considering giving into our demands? All they need is a little push.” He laughed heartily.

I kissed him again and said, “I missed you so much!”

Jonas smiled and said, “Me too my love. Let’s get in the truck and get back to the facility.”

We climbed into the back of the SUV and Jonas put his arm around my shoulder and said to the driver, “Home James.” He then laughed.

Turning to me he said, “I was desperately worried about you, Nikki. I was seriously considering releasing the missiles early and on Washington if they had harmed you.”

I played my fingers on his cheek. His several days of beard growth actually seemed to turn me on. Nuzzling his neck, I said, “Well, I’m back and that would have hurt our plans.”

“Plans don’t matter if you’re not here with me,” Jonas said as he looked out the SUV’s window. He picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles. Glancing over at me he smiled and said, “We’re going to do it, babe! We’re going to change the world!”

We drove for half an hour into a wooded area. The driver made a sudden right turn and the forest opened up and swallowed our three truck convoy. We were suddenly in a lighted tunnel heading downward into a mountain.

After a few minutes of driving through the tunnel, we emerged into a large room where other vehicles were parked and dozens of people walking about. This was a much larger operation than even our intel provided us. I later learned that there was an aircraft hanger down here, and several in-house run stores for groceries and personal items. To control access to the outside world they even had their own internet and cable TV.

It was still over a week until the big conference that would bring everyone together. The assemblage was going to discuss how to finish diving up the country and who would control those zones. Also we were going to discuss how to intimidate the rest of the world into joining us. The Russians and Chinese were going to be problem even though China was a partner in all this, as was Iran and Iraq. The rest of Europe and Japan was already afraid of us. Well, I say “us”, but I mean the New Utopians.

I was deathly afraid that during the intervening week, I’d be tasked with the slaughter of more children. Killing kids was a Nicola Peterson specialty. She delighted in it. I felt no remorse in putting bullets into her. I know I’m deep undercover, but even for the sake of the greater mission, could I follow through with commanding such deaths?

Waving and greeting various people along the way, Jonas led me by the hand to a row of elevators along the far wall. He went to the last one, inserted a key and pressed the button. The doors slid open and we went inside the elevator car. There was only one button to press inside. If you were up, it went down and vice versa. It opened onto Jonas’ and my private suite.

As we exited the elevator, Jonas pulled off his shirt and said, “Ah, Nikki. I barely slept while you were away.” He took my hand by my fingers and led me to our bedroom. He kissed me and said, “We have much catching up to do.” He smiled seductively and slowly started to undress me.

I stood before Jonas, naked, as his eyes devoured me. His hand softly touched my cheek as his fingers slid down to my jaw. He then gently touched my breasts. He then kissed my breast, ran his tongue around my nipple and then he slid to his knees. From my implanted memories, I knew what was coming, but I still didn’t expect the sensation as his tongue slid into my pussy. My legs weakened as he stayed there a few moments, his tongue working magic on me.

Finally, he stood, pulled the satin sheets back on the bed and pulled me gently onto the bed. He touched my face again and said, “You are so beautiful, my love.” He kissed me and started kneading my breasts. I have never felt this way before and I was in ecstasy.

We kissed and fondled each other for what seemed an eternity. My breathing was labored and my pussy was very ready for him. I did not flinch when he mounted me. I know he’s my husband. I know I’ve been conditioned to love and desire him. But my God, Jonah is an artist when it comes to sex. I’ve never been so overcome with pleasure in my life. When he made that final thrust, I couldn’t help but scream with pleasure.

 

*          *          *

 

“Are you sure you want to postpone the strike on that Catholic school in California?” asked Jonas sounding a bit disappointed. “It’s one of the few remaining Catholic schools there. They need to be taught that there’s no room for religion in our utopia.”

I looked across the breakfast table at Jonas and said, “I know, sweetie. But I’m thinking maybe if we keep them guessing about our next strike, our demonstration will have a much greater impact.”

Jonas took a few bites of his scrambled eggs and began to nod. He said, “You may be right, my love. After our demonstration, I think more people will be willing to join us.”

I grinned and held up my orange juice glass and said, “We can always kill them later.”

Jonas smiled back at me and clinked his orange juice glass against mine.

 

*          *          *

 

The conference was just a few hours away! I stood nervously in front of a snack machine, trying to figure out what to get. All the snacks were from North Korea, another sponsor, and nothing looked appetizing. Well, it wasn’t like I was going to eat it anyway. A short guy stood behind me as I considered my selection. I plunked in some coins and pressed a button.

As I started to reach into the machine, I deftly pulled a different snack bar from my purse and dropped it along with the real bar. I said, “Oops.”

The man behind me bent over quickly and said, “Here let me help you.” Before he took the bar, we had to exchange stupid pass codes. I’ll let Major Sanderson take full credit for them.

I said, “I have to hurry. The horn blows at midnight.”

The man looked over at me and said, “That’s what happens to the men who stare at goats.”

He looked at me and ever so slightly nodded. He handed me the real candy bar and he quickly pocketed the fake bar.

I said, “Thank you. I don’t think I can bend that far.” Actually, from my experience the nights before, this body could bend into a pretzel.

He said, “You’re welcome, ma’am.” He then bought a different candy bar from the machine and walked away.

I tried not to obviously look around to see if anyone caught our little exchange. Apparently no one had. For one brief moment I looked into the eyes of my co-conspirator in suicide. The major never told me why he had volunteered for this one way trip. I was envious of him. He’ll know if I was successful or not and he’ll know if he was successful or not at least for a minute or two. If I succeed, I won’t know anything.

As I walked down the hall, I tried to not look or act nervous. I wasn’t nervous about dying. I settled that when Brandon died in my arms. I was worried about screwing up the most important mission of my life.

I checked the time and decided that I’d probably should be heading to the meeting. The only access was down an elevator shaft from the central control room. The control room was kept mostly in subdued light and was automated with a minimum staff. Two walls were covered with monitors showing most of the facility.

As I entered the control room, one of the staff there looked up and said, “Let me scan your palm, ma’am.”

I looked surprised and said, “You have to scan me?”

The staffer nodded and said, “Yes ma’am. Everyone. No exceptions.”

I held out my palm and he scanned it with something that resembled a bar-code reader. I said, “Keep up the good work.” He waved me through.

I rode down the elevator alone. The room was deep underground and its ventilation was a shaft that ran from the room to a hidden port on the surface. I kept thinking how these were my last few moments on Earth, what should I be thinking of? But I couldn’t think of anything.

The elevator door slid open and there before me were around thirty of the most notorious thugs and butchers the world has known in a long time. Each alone was responsible for hundreds or even thousands of deaths. And here they all were gathered, in a radiation hardened room with giant flat screen monitors suspended from the walls. The over-sized table around which all the chairs in the room were gathered sported data terminals dotting its other-wise smooth surface.

The men all stood when I entered. One of the women turned her chair to face me and said, “Nicola! How great for you to join us! Jonas will be here shortly.”

“Hello everyone!” I said pleasantly. Enjoy these last minutes, I thought. I sat down in one of the two empty chairs at the head of the table. Everyone sat back down after I sat.

“We all heard about your narrow escape, Nicola,” said a man near the other end of the table. Digging into my new memory, I pulled up the name Raphael. “We’re very glad to have you back.”

I said, “Thank you, Raphael. I feel very fortunate to be here. Thanks to our gallant soldiers.”

The elevator doors slid open and out walked my handsome husband, Jonas. Everyone stood, including me. I smiled as he waved to everyone and walked towards me. I’m not afraid to admit I’m going to miss spending my nights with him. He walked up to me, gave me a quick kiss and turned to face those assembled in the room.

“Be seated,” Jonas said as he took his own seat. “I want to thank everyone for making time to be here. This is a very important meeting. I have some very promising news.” He paused for effect and then said, “My fellow Utopians, we are on the brink of winning the day. The political will in Washington is faltering. Many are tired of fighting our insurgency and are ready for an agreement. Any agreement. After our demonstration later this week, all of them will be begging for an agreement. The military is weakening by many of their youngest soldiers leaving and joining our cause.”

Jonas stood up and pounded the table as he shouted, “Victory will be ours!”

A cheer went up inside the sealed meeting room.

I whispered, “Active On.”

Sounding tiny and electronic, the voice of the operative who took the devices to cause the missiles to blow up on their launch pads said, “Roger that.”

Another tiny voice; that of Major Sanderson said, “Godspeed.”

I was just about to start the thirty second timer inside my purse when the other operative said, “Shit. The auxiliary launch room was supposed to be empty. I can’t launch the missiles or even lock the ventilation system now.”

Major Sanderson said, “How many are there?”

“Three.”

“You have to take them out,” said Major Sanderson.

There were a few moments of silence. And suddenly the other operative shouted, “I’ve been spotted!” There was a muffled sound of several shots being fired and the operative cried out.

Major Sanderson gravely said, “It’s up to you, John. There’s only seconds before the alarm sounds.”

I leaned over to Jonas and said into his ear, “I need to go to the little girls’ room. I’ll be right back.”

Jonas looked annoyed, but said, “Sure babe.” He kissed me before I could stand up. Oh God I’m going to miss these kisses. I mentally slapped myself…focus! I hit the timer switch and set my purse down on the chair next to Jonas and hurried to the elevator.

Mere seconds after the elevator doors closed and the car began to rise, than alarm klaxons began to sound. I said aloud, “I sure hope they can’t shut this elevator down.” The seconds ticked by. This elevator suddenly seemed like the slowest elevator in captivity. I started muttering, “Come on! Come on, dammit!”

Finally the doors slid open and I stepped out. I shouted at the guard next to the elevator door, “What the hell’s going on?”

The soldier stiffened and said, “I don’t know ma’am. The alarms just started!”

I stormed passed the guard and shouted at one of the control staff sitting at her console, “Lock the doors to this room now!” I saw her frantically tapping keys on her console.

And then me, the guard, and the two control room operators were knocked to the floor by a huge explosion. The elevator doors were blasted from the elevator shaft along with a billow of flame, smoke and debris.

The guard was either dead or unconscious as he lay still on the floor. I pulled his sidearm from its holster. I whispered, “Phase One complete.”

A voice in my head said, “Good work, John! Can you fire the missiles?”

I said, “Working on it.”

The female control operator rushed to my side and said, “Are you alright, ma’am?” She started to help me to my feet.

I said, “We’re under attack! Where’s the vent control? We may need to lock the ventilation system in case they try a gas attack.”

The woman looked at me curiously along with fear in her eyes. She said, “The ventilation system is on automatic, ma’am. It will close should any concentration of foreign matter enter the system. But here is the manual over-ride.”

Through the control room windows, I could see mass hysteria as panicked people rush in seemingly random directions. Some were trying to open the door and banging on the glass.

The woman looked at me hesitantly. I said, “Keep the doors locked. Those might be saboteurs.”

Panic was starting to set in on the two control room operators. I shouted, “This attack means a change of plans. Re-direct the missiles to hit Washington D.C. and launch them now!”

The male operator shook his head and said, “We need authorization from Jonas Peterson to launch!”

Angrily I shouted, “Jonas is dead. I’m his fucking wife!” I pointed the pistol I retrieved from the guard, at the man’s nose and shouted, “This is your authorization! Fire those fucking missiles now!”

“Yes ma’am,” said the man as he sat down at his console.

I pointed the gun at the woman and said, “Help him. Launch as soon as you change their vector.”

The woman sat down next to the man and said, “Yes ma’am.”

With both their backs to me, I pushed the manual over-ride on the ventilation system to ensure all the vents in the facility remained open to allow the nerve agent to flow unhindered.

After punching a bunch of buttons, the man said calmly, “Launch in T-minutes thirty seconds.”

I screamed, “Fuck the countdown! Launch!”

Looking frustrated and fearful, the man punched a button and said, “Launching…”

The woman shouted, “Abort! Abort! The silo doors are still closed!”

The man started to reach over to slap a big red button. I sent a bullet through his skull. Looking betrayed and shocked, the woman dived for the big red candy-like button. A bullet stopped her.

And suddenly, all the glass in the control room, including monitors shattered and the whole facility rocked from a massive explosion. People were screaming as the ceiling and walls started to collapse around them. I was tossed against one of the consoles as the ceiling in the control room fell, pinning me by a large chunk of steel and concrete onto the console.

I yelled in pain. I was pinned tight and I think my legs were broken.

Barely able to speak, I croaked, “Mission accomplished.”

Major Sanderson shouted, “John! Thank God you’re still alive! You did it, captain! You broke the back of the insurgents and pretty much destroyed their head quarters.”

I said in a hoarse voice, “I’m glad I got to see it all the way through.” I coughed and tasted blood in my mouth.

Major Sanderson said, “Hang in there, captain. As soon as the nerve agent has dissipated we’ll be sending in troops. You gotta hang in there.”

I felt my skin starting to prickle and my breathing became harder. I said, “The nerve agent has made it into the control room, major. I don’t have long.” I coughed again, worse this time.

Major Sanderson said, “Dammit! Thank you for your service, captain and may God have mercy on you.”

I smiled though Major Sanderson couldn’t see it. I looked around the broken control room. Fires were everywhere. Smoke filled the room and outside hallways. People were choking and gasping.

I closed my eyes to rest. The screaming and shouts of the dying faded away. And then all was quiet.

 

*          *          *

 

"John?"

It seemed like hours had passed. My pain had mercifully left me. I opened my eyes at the sound of someone approaching.

Walking toward me through the shattered control room was my beautiful wife Kristi. Behind her was Brandon holding Timmy’s hand and they were smiling at me.

Kristi extended her hand toward me and said, “Come, John. Time to come home…”

 

*          *          *

 

The End



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