The Mission

HIGH GENERAL Sergei Polinski, stood outside his command tent and watched his breath float off into the night sky.   His legion of soldiers worked vigorously fortifying their position despite the late hour. Everything was going as the High General had planned.  Utilizing the digital images of the terrain he had uploaded to his Chromo-Tag, Polinski selected the vast open expanses of the Gobi Desert as the operations command center because it was centrally located between the borders of The Republic of the Asian States and Euro-Russia.  
    In less than twelve hours, Polinski would order half a million highly trained forces deep across enemy lines.  His attack plan was simple.  He would launch a barrage of artillery strikes on the enemy military bases so audacious the Chinese would be forced to divert their remaining defenses into Beijing to protect their entire government from being usurped of its power.  Polinski was counting on this.  Once he controlled Beijing he controlled the country, and with all of their highest ranking military officials convened in one area, his secret weapon would guarantee his victory.

JEREMIAH was still dreaming when he heard the faint tapping coming from somewhere in the conscious world.  He had learned to distinguish the slight intricacies between one world and the next.  Sitting up, Jeremiah wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned.  The knocking was now pounding inside his head, each bang coming louder than the one before; or so it seemed at two a.m.  Joining in the cacophony of aggravation was the videophone.  Jeremiah shot an angry stare in its direction before reluctantly getting out of bed to answer.  It was Stan Lake.  He was sitting alone in his office wearing a suit and a determined and anxious look on his face.  
"Manning, its Lake, open the door for the agents.  They are from the Kansas City field office and they are there to pick you up and escort you to my office.  We are going to rendezvous with an extraction team and retrieve Ms. Stone." Lake explained matter of factly.  If we go now we will have you both back there in time for the election.  Jeremiah blinked his eyes a couple of times trying to gather his thoughts.   His head was swimming in the deep end at the moment.  Pull yourself together Jeremiah, go answer the door.
"I'm going to let your G-Men in Lake, I'll be right back."  He called back as he sauntered to the door.  Jeremiah his Chromo-Tag up to a flat electromagnetic pad on the wall and the door slid open.  As he suspected two men dressed in matching  navy blue suits walked inside.  "Your boss is on the phone, let
with Lake...already in progress he thought.  
"Stan, I have something to tell you.  It's about Kevin's death, I think he was murdered."
"What do you mean?   Your brother was killed in the Presidential fight with Caidan Johnson Jeremiah; the whole world saw it."
"I mean that somebody, something, affected his fighting that day.  I mean you know was well as I do that Johnson had no chance against my brother."
"Where is this coming from Jeremiah?" Lake asked confused.
" I had a dream last night, before the one I had where I met you, and I dreamt that I was in this very hotel four years ago, when Kevin was preparing for his fight.  And, Lake the girl downstairs worked for room service then.  She was in Kevin's room that morning.  I haven't yet made the connection, but she had something to do with Kevin's death."
"Jeremiah we need to get Jade, right now.  You can tell me of your conspiracy theory on the way."
Jeremiah was getting angry.  The last comment made it seem like Jeremiah was just some foolish vindictive family member concocting stories to hang onto the past.
"Lake I am being serious.  I thought it was weird she was flirting with Kevin in his room, and she kissed him, and she brought him some type of powdered sugar she said the kitchen forgot on his breakfast when he hadn't called for it.  And so I followed her to the locker room, and she was talking to someone about my brother."  Jeremiah was yelling at the video phone, staunchly defending his position.
"Okay, okay, Jeremiah, maybe there is something to all of this.  But right now, we need to get to Jade okay.  Then after the two of you are safely back here for the election tonight, I will begin looking into what you saw, I promise." Lake said genuinely.  
Jeremiah relaxed a little at the sincerity Lake had used.  "Okay, I am getting ready, I will see you in a couple hours."
"You mean a few minutes, you are flying in the Bureau's hyper jet here Manning."  A smile spread on Jeremiah's face when Lake said that.  Hyper jets were the fastest form of commuter transportation in the world.  Jeremiah had always wanted to fly on one.
"Awesome, Lake, I will see you soon."  Jeremiah replied unable to mask the excitement of flying in the supersonic plane.  
    After he finished pulling on his favorite shirt and jeans, he followed the two agents out of the room and into the hallway.  The agents made their way to the stairs, "Hey Tweetle Dee and Dumb, we are taking the stairs"  Jeremiah didn't bother to be polite, they had pounded his door like a drum.  
    They rapidly descended the staircase and Jeremiah decided it would be best to take the emergency fire exit located at the bottom of the stairs instead of risk letting the concierge see him.  Jessica, or whatever her name was,  could be spying on him like she had his brother.  Jeremiah had no way of knowing if she had plans on sabotaging his presidency the same way she had his brother Kevin's.  He felt the anger building up inside of him again, and then fought against himself to control his emotions.  Lake had promised to help him find answers as soon as Jade was safe.  
" Jade...hang on just a little while longer...I really need to tell you how I feel and I hope you feel the same as I do.   I don't think I could handle any rejection tonight...not  tonight."
    The car ride to the airport was unnervingly quiet.  The two agents sat in the front of the car, while Jeremiah, alone in the back, stared out the window;  with a cacophony of thoughts playing in his mind.
"I really wish I could talk to my dad, he would know what to do."  
    Sometimes the weight of all the responsibilities felt too much for Jeremiah too bear.  While most of his friends looked forward to their eighteenth birthday and the freedom it represented, Jeremiah had dreaded his.  Of course they all said how lucky he was, being chosen for the next President, but the country was in such disarray that he longed for a simpler life.  He had already sacrificed so much of his childhood, and if he was elected as everyone had projected, he would be sacrificing at least four more years.
"And what if he didn't win the fight.  What if Johnson killed him instead of him being the victor.  He would die never knowing what it was like to be in love and have a girlfriend.  He would die never given a chance to actually live."  
    The further away from his hotel they drove the more angry Jeremiah became.   Far from the decadence of the Belvedere Jeremiah was able to get a glimpse of the "real" Kansas City.  It was like he had fallen asleep and woken up in a different world altogether.  How could this be the same city Jeremiah  whispered to himself in disbelief.  The Southern end of city was nothing but run down ghetto's and litter ridden streets.  There were hardly any cars, and the ones that Jeremiah did spot were lucky to be operational.  Most were older, inexpensive models, sporting broken windows, and multicolored bodies.  Vehicles you might see at a junk yard.  Homeless people filled the streets clad in tattered rags of clothing, and worn out sneakers.  There must have been hundreds of people wandering the streets aimlessly; most of them appeared demoralized and broken like they were the forgotten.  When the car stopped at a red light Jeremiah felt his stomach turn at what he saw.  A group of teenagers, in the same trashy clothes were standing on a street corner, under a lamp, where a park used to be.  What remained of a chain link fence enclosed a concrete pad with two metal poles sticking out of the ground; an old court.  Jeremiah couldn't take his eyes of this picture of hopelessness.  He counted twelve of them passing around what Jeremiah was certain was a bottle of liquor. And, sadly, none of them could have been more than sixteen years old.  Old enough to drink though-thanks to Johnson's latest and greatest law.  
"Hey A*****e- what are you staring at?!"  One of them shouted angrily in the direction of the Agents car.  Jeremiah just watched while the others joined in the malay of indignation.  A girl, no older than thirteen, shouted" Get outta here dickhead pigs," before the stoplight finally turned green, and the car continued on to the airport.  
For the first time since the hotel, the ABI agent in the passenger seat, Agent Martin, Jeremiah thought he said, meet the next generation of voters Manning." both chuckled laudibly.
"They really seemed to like you."  The other added still laughing.    
"Just get us to the airport," Jeremiah responded sourly.  He was anxious to be rid of their company.  
Jeremiah sighed in relief when the signs indicating departures finally came into view.  Instead of going in the direction the arrows were pointing, the car veered off an alternate road that was marked with another sign; it read:  Government officials only.  At the end of the small road was a security gate, and behind it stood a large metal hangar.  The sedan pulled in front of an automatic arm, that prevented unauthorized vehicles from going any further.  The driver of the car lowered the window, and held out his forearm to a scanner located on the outside of the small building.   The scanner then validated his Chromo-tag, sending the long metal arm upwards, and out of their way.  Agent Davis then raised the window and continued on to the hangar.  
When the car had stopped, Jeremiah attempted to open the door but quickly realized he would have to wait for one of them to do it for him.  "Ah, yes, a police car," he was quickly reminded.
Agent Davis then opened his door for him, and the three of them sauntered quietly into the hangar through a doorway on the front of the beige metal building.  Jeremiah's jaw dropped open allowing only a gasp to escape, and a big smile stretched across his face.   There it was-the hyper-jet in all of its midnight blue glory.  The fastest commuter plane ever built it could easily break the sound barrier and Jeremiah had wanted to fly on one his entire life.  This one was magnificent.  From its needle point nose to its racer like tail, its sleek design and sharply engineered lines screamed of speed.      
    There was no doubt in Jeremiah's mind he was in for the of his young life.  As the three of them made their way to the side of the plane, a young woman wearing a flight uniform was waiting for them atop the automatic steps.  It was like a small escalator that had been rolled over to the door.  Jeremiah simply stood on the first step and it transported him to the top where he was welcomed with a bright smile, and warm eyes.  

“INCREDIBLE,” Jeremiah’s chest pounded with excitement and his lungs were on fire despite the oxygen mask he was wearing.  Twenty-five minutes had passed in a blur- looking out the window when the Captain’s voice announced their final descent into Johnson National Airport in Washington, DC over the intercom of the Hyper-Jet.  Not even a half an hour had passed since Jeremiah and his ABI escorts had left Kansas City to rendezvous with Stan Lake at the ABI headquarters.  
Jeremiah checked to make sure his seat belt was fastened tightly as the aircraft came roaring down towards the runway.  The combination of power and speed, reminded Jeremiah of his dream about Jade and galloping along behind her on Ginger the morning she was kidnapped.  “I’m coming Jade-just hold on a little longer.”
    As the supersonic plane rolled to a stop, Jeremiah removed his oxygen mask, unbuckled his seat belt, and raced towards the exit-he stumbled and somersaulted into the aisle of the jet.  Jeremiah screamed from the crippling pain shooting through his shoulder and down his hand as it slammed into the arm rest of the seat opposite his.  Despite the fuzziness in his head and ringing in his ears, Jeremiah could hear the muffled sounds of snickering voices coming from the A.B.I agents Lake had sent to escort him.  Placing his other hand on his recent assailant  Jeremiah groggily pulled himself of the floor of the plane, and shot a “watch yourselves” look behind him where the agents were seated.  
    “Mr. Manning it is advisable to remain seated for five minutes after flying on a hyper-jet, to give your brain and body an opportunity to begin processing oxygen on its own and regain its equilibrium,” said the older looking of the two agents.  
    “Yeah, thanks ever so much for the advice,” Jeremiah replied sarcastically; still glaring. “Schmuck”