AARON My hands would not stop shaking. Not just the hands. My legs trembled. Chest felt tight. Even breathing came in uneven pulls. Everything inside felt unstable, like the world had tilted and never bothered to level out again. Marianne noticed right away. She placed her hand over mine and squeezed, steady and deliberate, as if she could anchor me in place. “It’s going to be fine.” I nodded my head because that was what people did when they heard words like that. Agreement never reached the mind. Those words felt too large, too distant to be real. Eyes drifted downward instead, settling on the front of the dress shirt. Dark stains were still there. Dried now. Senator Fernandez’s blood had soaked into the fabric and refused to fade.It felt wrong that the shirt still existed, wrong that I was still breathing after watching her die. Nothing about life felt repairable anymore. Not after that moment. Not after what all of us had been dragged through. The length of the metro car came into focus. Rows of people sat slumped and silent. Faces looked hollow, smeared with ash and fear. Some cried openly, shoulders shaking without restraint. Others stared straight ahead, eyes locked on nothing, trapped inside their own thoughts. Everyone carried the same invisible weight. We had escaped the steps of the Capitol, but none of us had escaped what happened there. My hand slipped out from under Marianne’s and reached into a pocket. The personal assistant device felt heavier than it should have. The screen lit up as menus slid past until Elena’s name appeared. Marianne turned her face away, giving privacy I did not ask for but deeply needed.I pressed the call button, hope pushing up despite every reason not to have it. Maybe the signal had come back. Maybe something had changed. Nothing happened. A quiet curse slipped out. The home button took a hard tap. Another try. Then another. Each one failed the same way. Frustration surged first, sharp and hot, followed by anger and fear crashing together. Fingers tightened around the device, muscles locking as the urge to break it rose fast and strong. Logic finally cut through the fog at the last second. Destroying it would leave nothing. Without it, there would be no chance to reach Elena. No way to tell her I survived. No way to know if she and Lucas were alive. The gaze lifted slowly. Jaw clenched so hard the teeth ached. A deep breath came in, unsteady and rough, then spilled back out in pieces. The device went back into the pocket, like placing something fragile somewhere safe. Marianne began rubbing my shoulder again, slow and reassuring. “At least the metro is still running.” A voice came from across the aisle. “That’s because the army wants civilians out of the line of fire.” The man who spoke looked worn down. His face was streaked with sweat and ash, eyes tired but sharp. Something about him felt familiar, like a name once known but forgotten. Marianne glanced at me. A small shake of the head answered her unspoken question. No recognition on my side either. “Leaving the trains running just helps the terrorists escape,” I said, forcing the words out. He shook his head slowly. “The Department of Defense doesn’t care about the areas around D.C. They only care about locking down the Capitol and the White House. If some of those extremists run, that saves bullets for the ones too stupid to leave.”“You sound very sure,” Marianne said. A short laugh escaped him. “I should be. I was just added to the House Armed Services Committee.” That clicked. “That’s why you look familiar. Representative Caleb, right?” He nodded. “Hell of a way to start a job. You both worked on the Hill?” Heads nodded together. “For Senator Fernandez,” I said. His expression shifted, softer now. “Met her at a fundraiser last week. She was a damn good woman.” A hand moved to the front of the shirt, instinctively trying to hide the stains. Marianne spoke before I could. “She was.” A heavy sigh followed as he leaned forward. “She was great. I have never worked for anyone like her, and I never will again. Savages shot her in the neck.” The fabric twisted tightly in my fist as the words finally came free.“Losing someone never stops hurting,” Caleb said quietly. “Lost more people than I wanted to back in Southeast China.” “You served?” Marianne asked, hope creeping into her voice. “Four years in the army. During the war.” A faint smile appeared. “Those eyes gave it away. Older than you look.” He smiled back. “Longevity vaccine. Took it early.” “What should we do?” Marianne asked. She needed direction. Something solid. “As a nation or as people?” “Either.” He tilted his head slightly. “First, stay calm. Panic spreads fast and makes everything worse. Second, wait. The army will crush this. These people do not understand real combat. They picked the worst possible target. Soon enough, most will be dead or in custody. Help when you can. Do not create more chaos. The system is ugly, but it holds.”A glance passed between Marianne and me. Relief flickered, small but real. “You’re the first person we’ve met who sounds confident,” I said. Years of experience sat heavy in his voice. “Government survives because it is layered and redundant. Too big to break. What they are doing is like spitting into a hurricane.” A weak laugh escaped before it could be stopped. Shoulders eased slightly. Caleb studied my face. “Trying to reach your wife?” A nod followed. Marianne’s hand slipped away again. “Elena. No luck yet. Networks are jammed.” “Could be intentional,” he said. “Army or Secret Service. Standard move. Stops remote bombs and enemy coordination.” “That doesn’t help much,” I said. Silence settled between us. The device came out again, more habit than hope.“Got kids?” Caleb asked. The question cut through gently. “A son. Lucas. Five years old.” He clapped once. “That’s a good age. My grandkids are right around there.” “How many?” Marianne asked. “Twenty-three grandkids. Eight children.” A real laugh slipped out. “Now I feel behind.” “Why is that?” “Ever heard the Mormon jokes about family size?” He laughed easily. “So you broke tradition.” “Not by choice,” I said, then stopped myself. A knowing nod followed. “Family is all that matters. Especially now.” “Where is yours?” Marianne asked. “Orange County.”“California?” Shock filled her voice. “Yeah. Long way. I’ll ride this to the end, then figure something out.” He tapped his pocket. “I know how it feels to be cut off from them.” “And you?” he asked Marianne. “Adirondacks. Empire State. I thought I would wait there until this blows over.” Hands were exchanged. “Good meeting you both.” “Aaron Jacobsen,” I said. “Caleb,” he replied, leaning back. “Do not get too comfortable. Once control is restored, everyone will be needed back in D.C. The cleanup will be worse than the attack.” The train kept moving forward. The future felt heavy and uncertain, but motion itself was something to cling to.