John and Jessica sat on the couch in silence. Not the kind of silence where you’re waiting for someone to speak. The kind where something inside you has stopped moving.
The news played. Footage looped. Helicopter angles. Water swallowing neighbourhoods. Reporters using words like “historic” and “unprecedented” because no one wanted to say biblical.
John finally stood.
“I’m packing.”
Jessica didn’t argue. She didn’t say yes either. She just nodded and wiped at her face like she had dust in her eye.
He packed his Army gear methodically. Muscle memory. Uniform folded. Boots laced. Extra socks. He checked his phone again.
No missed calls. No texts. No orders.
That bothered him more than the tsunami.
Jessica fed the kids while glancing at the TV every few seconds like it might suddenly change its mind and say Just kidding. California is fine. It didn’t.
Amanda asked, “Momma … is the ocean mad?”
Jessica swallowed. “No baby. Sometimes things just … happen.”
Sean didn’t eat much. He just watched his dad walk gear to the car. Layla clapped when she saw the rucksack.
“Daddy go camping?”
John froze.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Something like that.”
Then the broadcast cut.
“Breaking News — The President is addressing the nation.”
They both rushed to the TV. The crowd was already loud.
“Mr. President!”
“Sir!”
“Mr. President!”
The shouting overlapped like static. He stepped to the podium. Cleared his throat. Looked older than he had a week ago.
“My fellow Americans…”
He paused too long. A mic near the podium caught him leaning slightly toward an aide.
“ — we should’ve moved faster on the coastal grids. I told them—”
He stopped. His eyes flicked up. He realised. The camera was live. He straightened. Forced a smile.
“As I was saying … today we face a challenge unlike anything in modern history.”
Jessica glanced at John. John didn’t blink.
“We are officially at war with the Chinese government and any nation that stands against the United States.”
Half the room behind him cheered. Half looked like they’d swallowed glass.
A reporter shouted, “Sir! In light of the devastation—”
He snapped before he could soften it.
“Ma’am, did you hear what I just declared?”
There it was. Too sharp. He caught himself again. He smiled.
“It’s a fair question. We will respond decisively. We will protect American lives. We will rebuild.”
Applause. Too loud. Too forced.
Jessica whispered, “He looks scared.”
John nodded once. “So are we.”
They drove to the National Guard unit in silence. Back roads.No music. Kids unbuckled at red lights to hug John’s neck.Nobody told them not to. The building was empty. Motor pool, empty. Parking lot, empty. Office, dark.
John knocked. Nothing. He walked the perimeter. Nothing.
“I don’t get it,” he muttered. “Where is everyone?”
He called. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail.
Jessica leaned across the passenger seat. “Maybe … maybe we just go home?”
He hated how relieved he felt when he said yes.
On the way back they stopped at a fast-food place in Walker.Inside, a group of twenty-somethings were arguing with an older man about the President.
“Y’all don’t know a thing about war!” the older man barked.
One of the boys shoved him. John was out of the car before Jessica could say his name. He didn’t yell. He didn’t threaten.He just stood between them. Calm. Still.
“Enough.”
One kid laughed nervously.
“Bro, we’re just talking.”
“Then talk,” John said quietly. “Don’t push him.”
Nobody swung. Nobody wanted to. They were loud, but they weren’t brave. John helped the old man to his feet.
The old man whispered, “Thank you, son.”
John nodded.
Back in the car, Sean asked, “Dad … were you gonna fight?”
John buckled in.
“Not today.”
Aaron was pacing. Beer in hand. Phone in the other.
“We gotta do something,” he said. “Board windows. Call people. Buy ammo. I don’t know — something.”
Nita leaned in the doorway.
“I already called.”
He stopped.
“And?”
“They’re staying home. With their families.”
Aaron laughed once. Short. Sharp.
“Of course they are.”
He slammed a cabinet door. Nita flinched.
“Don’t,” she said quietly.
He grabbed another beer.
“I’m not scared.”
Nita looked at him.
“Yes, you are.”
He stared back.
“I’m terrified.”
That shut the room up. He called his mother. She refused to leave. He shouted in the yard after she hung up.
“You stubborn woman!”
A neighbour’s dog barked.
Someone down the road yelled, “You good, Aaron?”
He forced a laugh.
“Yeah! Just arguing with the government!”
The neighbour laughed awkwardly. Aaron didn’t. At Walmart, no one was panicking. That bothered him more than if they had.People were buying cereal. Arguing over coupons. A woman compared pasta brands as if the ocean hadn’t swallowed a state.
He muttered, “Am I the only one seeing this?”
An Army soldier stood ahead of him with two cases of water.Aaron tried speaking to him. Ignored. Tried again. Ignored.
Outside, he caught up. “What’s happening?” Aaron asked.
The soldier pulled a pistol. Clicked it empty.
“You’ll see.”
Drove off smiling. Aaron stood frozen. The click echoed louder than a gunshot.
He drove home, shaking. Someone honked. He honked back.Someone flipped him off. He flipped them off harder. By the time he pulled into his driveway, his hands were numb. He sat there. And broke. Full-body shaking. Tears he didn’t know he had.
“You’ll see…”
He didn’t want to see.
John — Later That Night
The house was full. The family crowded the living room. No one joked. Even Uncle Rocky, who normally made funeral jokes at weddings, just stared at the TV. Footage rolled again. Bodies.Boats in trees. Aerial views of flooded parishes.
The anchor said, “Authorities are urging residents to boil water due to contamination.”
Rocky muttered, “Since when do they hand out bottled water for a boil advisory?”
Nobody answered.
John stepped outside to call Aaron. “Brother, you okay?”
“I missed the call.”
Aaron exhaled sharply. “Good.”
John didn’t respond.
“Bad things are coming,” Aaron added quietly.
John didn’t argue. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
His phone rang again. Platoon Sergeant. Finally.
“Where are you?” the voice snapped.
“I went to the unit. Nobody was there.”
Pause.
“We deployed fast. Cell towers are gone in California. We’ve been trying to reach the stragglers. You willing to travel?”
The line cut. Dead.
John stood staring at the screen as if he could bring it back to life. Nothing.
He went back inside. Everyone looked at him.
“Well?”
“They’re already there,” he said. “I can’t reach them.”
Jessica’s hand found his.
Then the reporter interrupted again.
“Breaking news out of Louisiana. Officials are investigating what appears to be coordinated contamination of multiple water systems following a derailed train. Authorities are not ruling out terrorism.”
The room went completely still. No one breathed.
“Distribution centers are forming across the state. Residents are urged to remain calm.”
Remain calm. Someone in the back of the room laughed. Just once. High. Nervous.
“Guess I’m drinking beer for the rest of my life,” Uncle Rocky muttered.
Nobody smiled. Jessica squeezed John’s hand harder. Aaron’s words echoed in his head. You’ll see. The camera cut to footage of people gathering around water trucks.
National Guard vehicles in the background. Sirens. Distant shouting. The reporter’s voice trembled.
“This appears to be escalating.”
The screen flickered. For half a second — static. Then the image returned. But something in the room had shifted. This wasn’t the aftermath anymore. This was acceleration.