Last War Read Free

amount of moves a person would take. 
         He had sent a middle-eastern man through the airport into Jacinda’s section. He knew she’d watch him. He also sent an African through in the same, offset, window of time. She’d miss one or the other – more likely she’d miss the African. He was Jason’s drill-bomber.
         Jason often wondered what this was all for. They had failed so many other times on things they had been drilled on, continually. He was on the committee for those ‘planes into American landmarks’ drills before 9/11.
         On top of everything, this day was different. He felt it. He knew that despite what he had sensed, everyone else viewed this as an ordinary day. Despite how dire the circumstances, it was always only an ordinary day to the masses. He knew it’s how the brain works; adapt to the surroundings.
         But, it wasn't an ordinary day, and this time he felt, possibly, only he sensed it.
         He had a feeling that if he didn't move—if he didn't act soon—his window of opportunity would slam closed like a country screen door just before the arrival of a tropical storm. As the minutes passed, the feeling grew more intense – it was an intense, rapidly growing, premonition of sorts.
         He was offered a large sum of money. However, Jason thought to himself, what has money done for anyone in this world so far? It seemed to have only divided it.
         Jason believed he was happy. Or, that he could achieve happiness easily, if in some naive ignorance, he didn’t know he was unhappy.
         He believed, in some way, the pursuit of happiness was just as unstable as the haphazard, irresponsible, whimsical, "do what makes you happy" lifestyle that the polar opposite was used to living.
         His desk was cluttered; filled with papers, knick-knacks, writing utensils, and office supplies.
         He had few pictures up, and although married, Jason had no one to call ‘honey’; no one to visit outside of his own family.
        Jason didn't go anywhere until he felt it was time. To him, there was an exact time and place for everything and if it didn't feel quite right, he wouldn't do it.  He wasn’t always that way.
         A message popped up onto his computer screen. As he glanced at the screen, he read the message from Christine Upton.
        
         Jason's heart  plunged into his stomach creating the swishing feeling that reminded him of the sound his washing machine would churn out. A prompt message appeared:
          ::Continue with forward?::
         Jason clicked the accept button.
         ::Message delivered to 3155559827 - Maxwell Bradley.::
         The prompt message quietly disappeared as it whisked away to carry out its orders. He stared at his screen where the huge blue “U.S. Department of Homeland Security" seal sat on his desktop.
         That  big, intimidating, American eagle, or whatever it was, held so much pride in the eyes of those who cared. Unfortunately, Jason wasn’t sure how much he cared, anymore. He knew he loved serving the 307 million people in his jurisdiction, but as of recent, he had his own problems to deal with; problems created by the institution he served, without any regret. The government didn’t seem connected to the people anymore. There was a completely different feel than the first day he had gotten into this as a young guy fresh out of the military.
         Despite his own feelings, nonetheless, he knew if he didn't keep himself together, the whole country would suffer, therefore further ruining his life.  This was a new feeling to him. So Jason sucked up his emotion and bottled it deep inside his rock-solid outer layers. His worst fear was to lose control. He believed, if he did, he would lose control completely, further damaging his whole country. He followed his intuition because it was so naggingly logical. For as long as he