THE LAST ARK

CHAPTER 2: PATRIOT PASSING

Arlington Cemetery, Maryland Six Days Before Temple Ceremony

Jenn Scott desperately tries to make sense of a death that makes absolutely no sense at all, though she imagines others responding the same way at the sudden loss of a beloved patriarch. Behind his deeply weathered face was a man who jogged into his late sixties, continued to work out, and got the best care the US Navy could provide. Th e admiral was a healthy man. Boom! Th e ear-cracking concussion of seven rifl es fi ring synchronized shots startles her back into the present. Admiral Adam Daniel Scott has died. Boom! Th e coroner claimed he had an acute myocardial infarction. A heart attack. Boom! Jenn doesn’t believe it. But she reminds herself that denial is a stage of grief. Jenn stares at the polished navy-blue coffi n draped with an American fl ag as if it were a scene from a movie. Th e president, two ex-presidents, senators from across the aisle, fellow Joint Chiefs, and a few foreign dignitaries take turns to say gracious words like duty, honor, integrity, and sacrifi ce. All words she would expect for a Joint Chief of the United States Navy. But she also hears a few phrases she doesn’t expect, such as proud, adoring father, and man of a deep, silent faith. In Jenn’s memory, her childhood was far from ideal, often left alone as the only daughter of a demanding commander while her mother slowly succumbed to cancer. She sucks in a deep breath, determined not to allow her emotions to leak out in front of the news cameras. Annapolis colleagues will be watching. Matt Adelson, a close family friend and one of the admiral’s poker pals, steps up to the microphone. “Don’t worry, I’m the last speaker and I promise to be brief,” says the newly confirmed Director of National Intelligence. “I knew Admiral Adam Scott as both a colleague and a close friend for over thirty-four years. We shared holidays, babysat each other’s children, and watched America face enemies both foreign and domestic. Admiral Adam Scott was every ounce of every word you’ve just heard said about him today and more. But to me, Adam will always be a dear friend, a devoted father, a true American patriot, and a hero in every sense of the word.” Matt chokes on the last line. Jenn has never once witnessed the stalwart ex Marine lose emotional control. His unexpected vulnerability cracks her own fragile resolve. Tears slowly seep down her cheek. Jenn can only stare forward, trembling, and remember to breathe. T he head pastor from the Washington DC International Christian Church steps up. “Let us pray,” he invites as he bows his head. Jenn involuntarily tunes out the prayer to dwell on the recent revelations that the admiral was a secret member of the underground Spy Net Online, or SNO, an illegal network. It still blows her mind, forcing her to question everything she thought she knew about her father and Washington. What else has her father kept secret? “Amen,” the crowd echoes around her. While the Marine bugler plays taps, two Navy officers carefully fold the f lag into a perfect, tight triangle before they step over to hand it to Jenn with a salute. Embarrassed, but unable to contain herself any longer, the gentle tears turn into halting sobs. A tender arm reaches around her shoulder to offer comfort. Matt Adelson. For a moment, just an instant, she felt the spark of hope that the arm belonged to another man. A man she never realized how much she missed until this very moment: Derek Taylor. She hasn’t heard from him in weeks and wonders if he even knows that his old poker buddy has passed away. Derek had once promised to look after her, and yet in the hour she needs him most, he’s nothing more than a digital ghost. As the coffin lowers into the earth, someone gives Jenn a bowl of dirt. When the coffin stops at the bottom, she stares at the dark lid for what seems like an eternity, wishing, hoping, praying this would be the moment that she woke up. Eventually, Jenn heaves a deep, shuddering sigh. “Fair winds, Admiral. Give my love to Mom.” Her face distorted from pain, she tosses dirt onto the coffin and turns to leave.