Chapter 5 - The Command from Above
Before Michael could rationalize the doubt beginning to creep into his chest, the small speaker on the satellite phone activated once again.
This time, it was not the female officer’s voice.
The voice that emerged from the speaker was deep, baritone, and heavy with an authority so immense, so unmistakable, that it filled the modest suburban kitchen like a physical presence. It was the voice of a senior flag officer speaking directly from a command center, carrying the absolute weight of the United States Armed Forces behind every word.
"General Mitchell, stay down," the deep voice commanded over the loudspeaker, its tone flat, lethal, and entirely devoid of hesitation. "Response team is inbound. Intercept in five seconds."
Michael’s jaw dropped open slightly. The color began to drain rapidly from his flushed, ruddy face, leaving his fair skin a pale, sickly gray.
Across the room, Emma gasped, pulling her hands tightly over her mouth, her wide eyes moving from the glowing phone to the front window.
Tyler, standing frozen near the counter, completely lowered his smartphone to his side, his fingers shaking as he stared at the matte-black device on the table. The smug entitlement that had defined his posture for the last ten minutes evaporated into pure, unadulterated terror.
"What... what is that?" Tyler stammered out, his voice cracking violently. "Dad... who is that?!"
Michael didn't answer his son. Slowly, mechanically, as if his arm were suddenly made of lead, Michael began to lower the barrel of his 9mm service weapon away from General Mitchell’s head, pointing the gun helplessly toward the floorboards.
Then, the world outside the kitchen window exploded into motion.
Through the large glass panes overlooking the front yard and the long paved driveway, the quiet morning light was shattered by sudden, blinding beams of high-intensity LED headlights.
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Powerful white searchlights swept across the exterior of the house, cutting through the glass and illuminating the white kitchen cabinets, the blue table, and the four people inside with the intense, artificial glare of a military operation.
The roar of high-displacement, supercharged V8 engines vibrated through the foundation of the house, shaking the glass plates inside the cabinets and causing the light fixture above the breakfast table to sway gently back and forth.
