Free Holding Their Own IV: The Ascent by Joe Nobody Page A

presidency. The databases available at Fort Meade weren’t as detailed as the ones she normally accessed, but they contained enough information to perform the assignment.
    Her finger moved to the keyboard, hovering over the button labeled “Print Screen.” There wasn’t any doubt about the results—Sophia was absolutely certain of her analysis. The cause of her delay was more selfish in nature. She felt safe here. The availability of food and running water was nice too. She hadn’t seen the FBI agents who brought her to Fort Meade and wondered if she would be taken back into the city now that her task was complete. She didn’t want to go back, and for the first time in her life , she pondered cheating the government she had served loyally for over 20 years. She could stretch this out—pad the payroll—take her time.
    Sophia’s hands returned to her lap, her distant gaze focused on nothing. She could ask to stay. There didn’t seem to be a shortage of space or food, and she could help out around the base. The thought of returning to her apartment made her shiver. What was once a warm, safe place to spend her non-working hours, now seemed so distant and threatening. The drive from Washington had provided Sophia something she specialized in processing—information. Her analysis of that data didn’t require a degree in mathematics to postulate; it was going to be months, if not years before life returned to normal in Washington.
    Some of the capital’s streets had been packed tightly with abandoned cars while others were completely barren. The once proud dome of the capitol building, an icon of freedom for decades, was now scarred and blackened from smoke—the aftermath of a fire that had damaged the building. Fire had definitely been a major issue. When the riots broke out, the firefighters who had remained on the job often couldn’t get to the blaze. The streets were either blocked off by abandoned vehicles or occupied by violent throngs numbering in the thousands. Sophia shuddered at the thought—fire frightened her.
    Her escorts had carefully selected side streets for the exodus from Washington. The interstates were blocked by tens of thousands of motorists who tried to escape the inferno. When the electrical grid went down, there was no gas, food, or traffic signals. The FBI agents had told her that most of the stalled cars had simply idled for hours until they ran out of fuel. The frustrated commuters had swelled the ranks of the disenchanted and desperate citizens filling the streets.
    According to her escorts, the city had actually been ravaged by three separate waves of violence. The first occurred when the labor riots sacked the White House and other government buildings. The second was initiated by the District of Columbia police trying to restore order. The third rape of the city was by desperate, starving masses—people who were out of food and looting to survive. As they had driven along, Sophia had grown bored with counting the number of smoldering buildings. Without any fire department to fight the blazes, anything could start a fire, and little could control it.
    Her escorts had talked extensively about human behavior on the ride to Meade. The men ha d discussed in great detail that while gang rivalries were to be expected, racial violence, vigilantes and even neighborhood disputes were not. And yet the latter had exploded throughout the area.
    Pointing here and there, the FBI agents seemed to have grown numb, unmoved by the rampant destruction passing by the car’s windows. Yet, Sophia would never forget the scenes.
    Staring again at her computer, the analyst decided that such an important decision would require one more pass. She had to be sure, right?
    Her little deception manifested itself in a troubled stomach. She would return to her quarters and rest for a bit before beginning the verification of her findings. Sophia sought her supervisor; her guilt required that she at least let someone