Three hours later in another room in the White House
Magnus II, or JJ, as his mother fondly called the precocious fifteen-year old, suddenly woke up to the shuddering of his bedroom. Was there an earthquake? He sniffled and forced his eyes wide open, looking around. Suddenly, his door burst open, and a light shone on him from an assault rifle.
“We have Falcon. I repeat, we have Falcon,” one man radioed. He quickly approached the bedside of the president’s eldest son, who looked at him in bewilderment. “Sir, we have to get out now; there’s an assault happening.”
JJ quickly flung his duvet away. “Mom, my sister!” he gasped. “My brothers-!”
“They’re all taken care of, sir. Now, please,” he said urgently.
They ran down dark corridors. Somewhere, JJ could smell acrid smoke, and his heart pounded loudly. He was taken to a secret passageway, where he went down three flights of stairs (a vintage feature that his grandfather didn’t want removed). They stopped momentarily as the building shook, sending a rain of dust falling on them.
He coughed, but one soldier pushed him on, and he felt the dust on his feet, as well as chips of wood. He hadn’t gotten the time to put on shoes. “I need a gun,” he said through the din and the trembling. Yellow lights swung above them, flickering as artillery hit some part of the presidential house.
“No need for that, sir,” another replied gruffly.
He saw people running down the stairs, and he glimpsed Stephen, his second brother, escorted by another military personnel. Where were Jared and Alexandra? They reached the bottom of the steps and were ushered immediately through a thick door that could withstand three nuclear fallouts in succession. The underground room was as large as a ten-story building, and they were led further down the shelter, the brothers’ young faces masked in confusion once they met face to face.
“Have you seen father?” JJ asked Stephen.
Stephen shook his head. “Where’s Lex and Jared?” he asked his older brother.
JJ shrugged. “I didn’t see them. Maybe they’re here somewhere.”
They had never been inside the bomb shelter, although they knew about its existence. It was last used during the Second Civil War, back when his father hadn’t even been born yet. It surprised JJ to see that the bunker was filled with state-of-the-art equipment and stocks good enough for the entire crowd inside.
“They didn’t give me any weapons,” Stephen said in a hushed tone.
“They didn’t give me one either,” JJ replied.
“Sirs, this way, please,” one Colonel said, holding out his arm to the left.
They were ushered one floor down into a room without windows. Their father was inside, but his back was turned. The door closed behind them with a quiet click.
“Father,” JJ began, “what’s going on?”
“Where’s mom? And Lex and Jared?” Stephen asked.
They heard their father, the country’s third president since the Second Civil War, clear his throat. “Your mother is in the infirmary. She suffered quite a lot. At the moment, we’re bombing rebel hideouts in the outskirts of the city.”
“But you said there were none-”
His father raised a palm up to stop him. “We lost your brother and sister. We couldn’t get to them in time.”
JJ found himself shaking his head. “What?” How could his father say this with a poker face? Was he really serious? Were they really dead? He had seen them only yesterday when his youngest brother had shifted for the first time…
Stephen’s eyes were blurred with forming tears. His tried to blink them away but found a few dropping down his cheeks. His father spun to look at his eldest children, what remained of his brood of four. Stephen quickly wiped the tears from his face.
“I trust you two will be strong and that you will not let this affect your future,” Magnus told his children. “For now, we wait for the airstrike to finish.” He excused himself for a meeting with his military cohorts, leaving his two children behind.
They found themselves quiet, unable to say anything to each other. What else were they supposed to say? Condolences? They had lost siblings, and their mother was terribly injured from the attack. JJ took a deep breath.
“We have to see mama,” he told his younger brother. They headed for the infirmary but couldn’t even see her despite their status as the first children of the country. They were relegated to a grey room, with grey walls and rickety beds to wait in.
There, they waited for forty-eight hours.
*
“The trauma was too much,” someone murmured.
Stephen woke up with a pounding headache. Where was he? He saw lights overhead, dimmed down, but they hurt him all the same. He looked around, realizing he was somewhere unfamiliar.
“He’s awake,” another said. “Kindly tell the doctor.”
Awake? What did that mean? Then, he remembered the attack on the White House, the air raids, and the crumbling of ceilings and walls. Did the whole place fall apart? Were they buried underneath the safety of the bunker?
“Good afternoon, Sir Stephen,” a young woman greeted him. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
“Where-" he croaked. Even his throat hurt. He heard the shuffling of shoes in the room, and then he felt nausea overcome him. He reeled over his bedside and began to choke.
“That’s just the vitamins,” the young doctor told him. “You’ll be in good shape in no time. You and your brother took quite a hit a few days ago.”
Days? Had he been asleep that long? “Where’s JJ?” he spoke again, feeling his throat burn. Was there smoke in that bunker? Had they infiltrated something that could have withstood an atomic bomb?
“He’s awake, but he’s in another room. The President visited you two while you were asleep.”
“Father? He wasn’t hurt?” he whispered. Then, his eyes widened again. “My mother?”
“Safe and sound, although she’s asleep at the moment,” the doctor replied. “I’ll be placing some vitamins in you.”
Stephen looked at her warily, but she gave him a comforting smile. “This won’t hurt. We’ve been giving you drip vitamins every eight hours, apart from your IV fluids. You may move around if you wish. There’s a wheelchair set out for you.”
She motioned towards a sleek, black wheelchair that had no wheels; rather, it hovered a few centimeters above the ground. “It’s a prototype, but we figured we’d use it today while we’re here in full force.”
“Where is here?”
She said nothing, but she smiled and excused herself out of the room. Stephen waited for a few moments, watching the yellow fluid drip into his vein. He saw a window but didn’t want to stand up just yet. He waited for the vitamins to make him feel better. He felt bruised, like he had taken a direct attack. He felt lost without a weapon. Their father had taught them young, but he was helpless at the moment, helpless in all his thirteen-year-old glory.
He wanted to see his mother and his brother, the two people who mattered most. He knew his father was busy fortifying the capital and, perhaps, the rest of the states, being the adept leader that he was. Stephen took a deep breath and pushed himself towards the edge of the bed where the wheelchair waited. He didn’t need assistance; he could do this on his own. He still had all of his limbs. He took a deep breath and hoisted himself onto it, surprised at how easy it was after being in a coma-like state for many days.
The door slid open, chiming once. He looked around and saw he was in a hospital-like setting. There were doctors and nurses and other technicians scurrying about. He wheeled himself down the hallway, pressing tabs on the chair as he did, trying to get the hang of this new mechanical marvel. Then, he saw an open door, and, at the end of the room, he saw his brother’s figure dressed in hospital pajamas, staring out into something.
“JJ?” he called out.
JJ didn’t look back. “Hey, Steph,” he said in a dull voice.
“You okay?”
JJ said nothing, and Stephen pulled in closer. He looked at JJ, noting that he had no injuries whatsoever, just like him. Perhaps, smoke had filled the room, causing their unconsciousness days prior. JJ continued to look beyond the tall window, so Stephen decided to stand up beside his brother, awkwardly holding onto the handles of the chair.
There was a fiery sunset across the sky, something that Stephen hadn’t truly appreciated until today.
“I remember it’s my birthday today,” JJ said. “I know I’m sixteen.”
“Oh.” Where were the candles? The birthday treats? They weren’t small children anymore, but their mother always made sure she celebrated it in the most fun ways. He couldn’t find it in himself to greet his brother, knowing how foolish it would have sounded.
“I know we were attacked at the White House, but the rest, I no longer remember,” JJ finished. “Father came to see us earlier. He told me you were asleep, and so was mother. He didn’t even greet me on my birthday. I could apply for military training now that I’m of age. I think I’ll do it tomorrow.” His thoughts were jumbled, and his words came out rushed.
“You’re not even well enough yet,” Stephen protested, wanting to go with his older brother.
JJ turned to look at him, giving him a grim smile. “I already am.”