Star Patch

Star Patch

“The Russian military struck Berlin with a ballistic missile at 11:34 today in a never-before-seen attack. The President of the United States, Alden Derek, is speaking out on the attack. Let's head there now. Michael?” My god. It's finally happened. War is starting! I thought, almost out loud, while sitting on the couch with my parents. We were watching our normal shows—some crime here and there, action movies, the regular. But, breaking news, we are under attack. We stayed silent for what felt like hours, sitting. Watching. The president issued a major warning, saying, “War has begun, and we will not let it slide. NATO has already sent navy forces, ground forces, air forces, and even space forces to Moscow. This day marks the 102nd anniversary of World War 2. Ilya Wallace has purposefully chosen this day to spread terror around the world. But terror will not spread. This day will mark the day the United States sent its fist of liberty and attacked the defiant! This day will show we will not surrender! We have sent our best to attack. I promise you all, UECO will fall.” The speech felt powerful and strong, like he fully meant it. Yet, it didn't fill me with spirit, not like Roosevelt during World War II did. The history recordings are amazing, and I learned about what happened even before my parents. My parents have had some crazy stories, but imagine living through World War II! But is this going to be a third-world war? “Mom, dad, what are we going to do? Do we stay?” I ask, not really worried, for I'm not worried. If the president really trusts his military, I have no reason to be worried. I trust his trust. But still, I'm 18, living with my parents in 2047. Everything is cheap; a chocolate bar is 20 cents now. Far less than that “5 dollar mint” my parents always talk about. “Well, at this point, we wait. We hold, and we stay. We don't go outside. You hear me?” My dad says, while my mom just stares at the TV, dumbfounded. They are now showing the destruction from Berlin, and wow. Its, crazy. Buildings fallen over, and entire streets were wiped from the city. It's almost bare, like nature parks, except empty. No trees, no houses, not even a single person. Empty. “f**k. This is going to be hell.” My dad says, pretty much disappointed. My dad works for the government; I don't remember exactly what, though. Mom is a judge in the city of D. C, and both are entrepreneurs. We live in a mansion, with billions to spare. But even with all of this, we won't survive if the war comes to us. I open my mouth to speak, interrupted by a knock on the door. “I'll go get it. Stay here.” My dad gets up, walks to the door, and opens it. I and my mom just look at each other, silently sharing worry. I listen in to my dad, who is talking to someone. “Hey Mike! What's up?” The president has requested that you and your family. Now. I don't know what it's about, but he told me to come tell you. Grab your family and go.” “s**t alright. Thanks.” and he closes the door. As he is walking back to the living room, he says, “Well, Coral, Michelle, want to go to the White House?” Me and mom both look at each other, slowly getting up to get dressed. “And don't get dressed or anything. Take necessary items and hop in the car.” Dad catches us and our thought processes, so we just head through the arched doorway from the living room to the entrance, walk out the cathedral-like door, and hop into the Tesla. “It takes thirty minutes to get to the White House, so it's not that long,” dad tells mom, who is doing her makeup. 30 silent minutes later, we are at the White House steps, being welcomed in by some officials in black. We go by it every so often, but we are never this close. Dad sometimes comes in, but only for certain, rare meetings. Men in black follow us on our sides, fronts, backs, everywhere. Walking up the steps, they are there, and walking into the presidential office, they are still there. Kinda creeps me out. “Mr. President, you requested me and my family?” Dad asks the president. “Yes, have a seat. And please, call me Alden.” We all take a seat, expecting nothing much, but what could you expect? “So, Ryan and Michelle, right?” They give a nod. “You three have been selected for a... special program. This program enables special permissions and access, one of these is permanent access to the White House. Due to the heightened tensions between NATO and UECO, we have selected 3 million people to be a part of this program. Entrepreneurs, farmers, engineers, doctors, judges, officers, and even authors. In 0300 hours, you three will be transported to a confidential base. This base is where you all will reside.” The president gives us three patches, each with a little green star on it. “This is called the Star Patch. It will be the key to the program. Keep it on you at all times. We have a master bedroom set up for you guys. We have clothes ready, and every needed item is available. Take what you need from your home, come back, and wait for the evac.” He tells us, signaling the men in black over. “These men are your bodyguards. Respect them.”