Julio stands still as the wrath and fury spiral out of control and slurs filter through the noise. He does not dispute that there is a great need to change. He understands his brother. He shares the pain, though not with the same intensity.
If he were torn from his wife and children, treated like a criminal and barred from seeing them again, he might feel as he does. Alejandro is nine years older and has worked his entire life for a pittance, paying every due only to be cast out.
But war. Is that truly the answer?
Alejandro says the American government drew the line in the sand, not them. They are only choosing to cross it now—to erase it entirely.
Enough is enough. Julio agrees with that much.
But his brother does not only want to tear down the border. He wants America, all of them, to pay for what their government has done.
That is where Julio cannot follow. Where their beliefs differ.
Innocents could be harmed. Worse, killed.
Fear coils tight in his gut. Not just fear of Americans. Fear of his own people and how this may end, with many of them dead or imprisoned for life. He fears what his brother is capable of. What he may be stirring, and what these men are becoming.
Mateo leans in, breath shaky with emotion.
“Mañana somos libres, hermano.”
Tomorrow we are free, brother.
Julio nods, but his stomach twists. And he prays—quietly, desperately—that when the fighting begins, he will still remember who he is.
Underground Presidential Bunker — Washington, D.C.
Carson adjusts the wire of his earpiece and scans the small room. Only twenty people have been allowed inside: a handful of top advisers, two senior generals, selected press, and ten Secret Service agents. Double the usual detail. Triple the caution. The world outside is burning—plagues, riots, nations are collapsing—and threats against President Ludlow’s life climb by the hour.
Carson stands at the president’s right shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, sir.”
Samuel Ludlow straightens his notes and passes them off to the waiting assistant. His silver hair catches the bunker’s overhead lights as he nods. “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”
Carson has never worked under a man who carried chaos like this one. Sixty-three years old and carrying the weight of a world gone mad. Carson studies him for a moment. Not the politician. Not the public figure. But the man who always tries to greet the men in his detail by name, and who asked after Carson’s father last week as if that personal detail of his father’s being placed in hospice wasn’t just something to be spoken about and forgotten.
Ludlow takes a deep breath before stepping forward and walking into the room we’ve cleared for this public address. His hands rest on the side of the podium. An easy confidence exudes from him as he takes in the packed room. Cameras zoom in, ready to broadcast his speech across a terrified nation. A low red light glows at the back of the room, and he looks straight ahead at the teleprompter as it begins scrolling with his prepared words.
“My fellow Americans, thank you for joining me tonight. I stand before you from this bunker not out of fear, but out of necessity. Our world has reached a point of crisis not seen in generations.”
Carson scans the crowd. Every muscle is ready. Every breath measured.
“War has erupted across borders, including our own,” Ludlow continues. “A powerful foreign state has issued threats toward our allies and toward us. We will meet those threats with strength and strategy, not with panic. Bombs will only be used as a last resort, should diplomacy fail and our people face immediate danger.”
Carson’s gaze sweeps over members of the press. Everyone seems anxious, but nothing out of the ordinary for this kind of tense situation.
“I would also like to address that the epidemic has put every nation in a state of crisis. This is largely what’s causing so many leaders to act rashly. It continues to devastate regions across the globe, including our own.” His tone remains steady as he continues. “Our scientists, doctors, and emergency teams are working tirelessly. The same can be said of our nation’s allies. There is constant coordination happening behind the scenes, and progress is being made. But progress takes time. And right now, we are in dire need of more time to seek a solution. So we must all do our part. Mandatory quarantine remains necessary until we slow the spread. I understand how difficult that is. It disrupts your work, your families, your routines.” A small breath. “But please keep in mind, these measures are not in place to limit you. They are in place to protect you—and the people around you. If we take this seriously, we reduce the strain on our hospitals and give our medical teams the time they need to do their jobs. And that, I assure you, will save countless lives.”
He lets the silence rest for a few stretched seconds before speaking again. “I ask for your cooperation and your patience as we navigate both of these important matters. We will provide additional updates as we have them and continue to support your communities, your families, and every corner of this nation through this. We will face it together—steadily, responsibly, and with care for one another.”
Carson feels a tug in his gut. He’s heard this speech rehearsed three times today. But in front of the cameras, Ludlow’s sincerity always cuts deeper.
“Now I’ll take a few questions,” the president announces.
Hands shoot up.
Ludlow points. “Yes—you first.”
A young woman from CNWN stands. Her voice is confident and loud enough to be heard from every corner of the room. “Mr. President, is there truth to the reports that the East Coast could face attacks within the week?”
