Dawn of Tears - 31. Escapes and Hospitals

Note to Readers: Some might point to fighting in a mosque as something typically American to do to Islamic people, but the truth is holy ground is among the bloodiest in history. That is both because people use them for protection as they launch attacks, and because beleivers of other faiths love to destroy them. For me, fighting in a mosque was no different than fighting in any other building, only one thing was important: I made it out alive.

The sounds of bullets puncturing the helicopter's skin were loud and soon drowned out by the roar of the answering fire from the door gunners and from the men who poured back out of the cargo area, answering the assaulting fire with their own. I could hear the sound of a grenade launcher, followed quickly by the explosion against a building and wondered why we were still on the ground. Lifting my head, I could see the knife hilt still there, now firmly bound to where it was and surrounded by bloody bandages. It'd wait there until we got to a hospital where surgeons could remove it without risking extensive bleeding that could not be immediately repaired.

The pain was receding, and my head felt giddy enough that I knew I had been given some pain killing medicine, but not too much. I could feel Killmer's hand still on my neck, and he was whispering something that took me a moment to understand. When I did, I remembered an experiment we'd done on my abilities, after one of our students had broken an arm. The student's arm had healed far faster than normal, days instead of weeks, and experiments had been conducted to see if our abilities were connected in some way.

They were of course, it was the only possible explanation. What the experiments proved was that our abilities kept our bodies in healthier shape, and when we were injured, accelerated the healing process. It wasn't instantaneous, or even quick enough to prevent a slashed neck from gushing out all of the body's blood. Rather, in my case, instead of weeks recovering from this knife wound I would be well within a few days. There was also another effect with our bonded, and I could draw back into me, some of my 'essence' that made them bonded to me, and recover some strength temporarily. It left the subject extremely weak for days, which is why I'd never been tempted to use it before, but with Roger Killmer's insistent urging through my drug-induced haze, I decided now might be the time.

"He's coming back around." Paul's voice was filled with relief as the world came back into a sharper focus. The pain in my belly did too, but that could be ignored. I noticed Killmer being laid down as he was now unconscious and breathed a slight sigh of relief that someone had caught him.

"What's going on?" I demanded, trying to sit up, and surprised when Richardson helped me instead of stopping me.

"Pilots are dead as are two of the air crew." Paul stated flatly. "One of the armored vehicles just got hit by an RPG, and the other is holding back a group of armed people. We can't risk getting you out that way. We need to fly out."

"Get me into the seat." I said sharply, and let out a hiss of pain as they lifted me into the pilot's seat. The engines were still running, although the hydraulics had been hit and were now running on a limited back-up. As I grabbed the pilot's helmet dangling nearby, my vision blurred and I nearly passed out. "I'm still too weak."

"Here." Muldoon said softly, rushing up to me and grabbing my hand. I didn't hesitate this time, drawing strength in so quickly that Richardson barely caught him and took him back to the cargo cabin. I felt stronger, although the pain was even more intense now. A quick check showed that everyone was aboard and I pulled on the collective just as small arms fire sounded from somewhere close by. The heavy machine gun in the helicopter's door was fired as we lifted into the air in what had to be my worst take-off since my first time in a helicopter. Still, we were in the air and climbing while moving forward, westward I noticed from the machine's compass. In the distance I could see four specks that must be Israeli attack helicopters, all firing into areas of the settlement we were in right now.

"IDF, this is Dylan Jacobs." I spoke after keying the microphone. The controls of this machine were very similar to an American helicopter, enough for me to operate them easily. "I'm at the stick of the medivac bird you sent. Sniper got the crew before we could lift off. I need directions back to base. We've got wounded, including me."

"Is this a joke?" A controller's voice said with a tone of disbelief. We were now at three hundred feet and I leveled off our ascent, heading towards the nearest of the specks that was an Israeli helicopter.

"No joke." I stated as firmly as I could. My voice was still weak, and the strength I'd taken from my own men was failing fast. "Your pilots are dead, I've got a knife in my gut, and if we don't hurry this bird will crash. I'm a qualified pilot, just tell me how to get back to base."

"Our attack helicopters have spotted you and one will rendezvous with you." I familiar female voice said over the radio, and I recognized the Israeli general's voice. "I told you this was not a good idea, Mr. Jacobs. Several of my people are dead now."

"So are the people who killed your Prime Minister." I told her hoarsely, focusing my vision on the helicopter that was now flying towards me. The pilot got close enough to give me a hand signal that I returned before following him as he peeled off to the right and started climbing. "The clerics are still alive, I'm alive even if injured, and we're out of there. Those responsible for killing your Prime Minister, the attempt on me, and the attempt this morning are all dead. The shooting started when those responsible tried to keep the clerics from turning them in to me. Pull your people out and things will calm down."

"Get yourself back to base first, Mr. Jacobs." She said curtly and I gave her an affirmative answer. By the time the base came into sight and the controller came back on with landing instructions, I was struggling to keep conscious. Everything was becoming blurry and I knew that I would soon pass out. Fortunately, I held on until we touched down but it was my worst landing every, dropping the last fifty feet hard and bouncing four or five times before settling down. I could see teams of people rushing towards the helicopter, and arms reached for me, dragging me out of the seat and onto a stretcher. Everything was blurry and hazy, except the fire of pain that was reaching through my belly. The only thing I knew, and cared about was that I'd gotten most of my people back with me. The rest were on the armored vehicle and should be back safe soon. That was all that mattered, that and the fact that I'd taken care of the two who had caused this mess in the first place.

As I fell into the blackness of unconsciousness part of me hoped that I'd never wake up and have to make decisions like those that led me to this point in the first place.

"He's recovering far faster than I would have believed possible." A male voice was saying softly as the darkness receded. I felt groggy, and my mouth was full of cobwebs. I felt like I was floating in a cool ocean and for a blissful second I had no memory of who I was, where I was, or memory of the world around me. However, with a snap that I thought must have been heard around the world, everything fell back into place as the voice continued speaking. "We removed the damaged spleen and stopped the internal bleeding. It's unlikely he'll require any more surgery. I still don't believe he actually managed to fly all the way to the base. He's a tough kid, though, and I think his recovery will be relatively trouble-free. Still, he'll need to be here for at least a week. They took a big enough risk flying him to Tel Aviv instead of treating him there."

"The best doctors are here." Martha's voice was agitated, I noticed and opened my eyes to see her and Paul talking to a silver-haired doctor wearing glasses. The man was looking at a chart in his hands as they spoke, and none of them were looking at me yet.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Paul asked.

"It'll be another hour or so." The doctor answered. "He almost woke up during the operation and we had to give him more anesthesia. We'd normally keep him in recovery longer, but with who he is we moved him to this room. He'll be in ICU for at least a day before we move him down to a regular floor. We need to limit visitors during that time as well. Since the two of you are the closest to family here, you will have unfettered access. However, anyone else will have to be limited. Just be glad that the nursing staff is used to having guards in the hospital or there'd be more protests about your security requirements."

"They are not negotiable." Paul said, as I let out an involuntary groan. I'd tried to move on the bed, and the pain that shot through me told me I was still very, very hurt. My sound drew their attention though, and both Paul and Martha rushed to my side while the doctor tried to move them out of the way.

"I don't believe this." The doctor murmured as his hands moved over me, checking something before a light shone on my face. "Mr. Jacobs, do you know where you are?"

"ICU in a hospital." I said in a croaking voice. At least there was no tube down my throat although I realized there was a nasal cannula delivering oxygen to my nose. "I was stabbed, you took out spleen, fixed bleeding, be here for a week or so."

"You heard all that?" The man asked incredulously before proceeding to give me a full check-over right then and there. I could see the relieved smiles on both Martha and Paul's faces as they watched me carefully, and I looked at them closely. They both looked exhausted, but relieved.

"Casualties?" I demanded from Paul and the doctor started to protest, but the stare I gave the older man stopped him in his tracks. I turned to Paul and nodded at him to speak.

"Three Israeli soldiers didn't make it back." Paul stated. "We have three injured from our team, and two who passed out from exhaustion. I'd had them on heavy guard schedules and the stress must have gotten to them. They've both been released and ordered to rest. The other three are minor injuries and they should be back on duty within a week."

"Big Picture?" I asked Martha and she understood what I meant.

"The unrest in the settlement area died down within an hour." Martha informed me in a firm, steady voice. "The three clerics we saved moved out and started talking to their people, calming them down and telling them that we'd saved their lives. Since then everything's been quiet. An independent news team somehow got pictures of your landing and removal from the helicopter by a medical team. We've released a short statement stating that your wound was inflicted by those attacking the clerics, not by them and that those responsible are all dead. Everything's quite right now. We pulled Nadine from the plane and she's working with the embassy on news control."

"We need to do a press conference soon, don't we?" I muttered and she nodded.

"We need people to see that you're alive and okay." She said. "Everyone from the UIC to the local clerics have denounced the group that assassinated the PM and tried to kill you. For once, we've got almost everyone on the same page. The bodies of the leaders who fled here were discovered in the last hour as well. They're dead from what looks like suicide by poison."

I knew that last sentence was a lie. Those men had died when the people they'd been bonded to died. Rahlil and Sofia had not died easy deaths at my hands, and I felt no guilt at how I'd killed them. For a moment that surprised me, but the personal revelations I had during that encounter still held firm, and I knew I'd been right to do what I had done.

"The clerics have put the bodies on display in their mosque." Martha continued in a quieter voice and the doctor frowned at her. "They've already been filmed by two news crews before we learned about that. The room is a mess and they've already been broadcasting their story all over the satellite networks."

"What have they been saying?" I asked in a quiet, worried voice and Paul smiled sardonically at me.

"You're being presented as someone to make Billy the Kid look like a total wimp." Paul's voice was actually filled with a touch of humor. "They've been talking in English and Arabic about how you single-handedly killed twelve attackers with your pistol and your knife before our team arrived to finish rescuing you. Unfortunately, they've also revealed the drugs those kids used to take control of people and hinted at how they were somehow connected to the beginning of the Oil Crisis."

"It doesn't seem medically possible for such a thing to be done." The doctor whose name I still didn't know said in a quiet voice.

"It's possible, doctor." I told him in as firm a voice as I could manage. "The information on how it was done has already been destroyed so it cannot be replicated."

"Oh, I believe you, young man." The doctor said with a small smile. "Now, you should get some rest."

"We'll be back in a bit, Dylan." Martha said with a comforting smile. "I'll hold a brief interview with the press downstairs. I'll tell them that you're awake and responsive and that you'll hold a press conference when the good doctors here say you are strong enough. They'll decide when you're strong enough, so any questions at when you're well enough will be directed to them. Henry's finished up with Mexico and is stopping at the Presidio to pick up your mom. They'll be here in a day or so."

"Get some rest, Mr. Jacobs." The doctor said as he took Martha by the arm, and despite how awake I was feeling, I passed out again as soon as they left the room.

That first day, I'd wake up for a few minutes here and there, but would always fall back asleep for several hours after that. Nurses and doctors would come into my room, examine me for a few minutes or administer some drugs (a lot were antibiotics), and then leave. When I was awake, I was fully alert and in charge of my intellect, but I'd only stay awake for fifteen minutes or a half-hour at the most. Still, a clear picture of what was happening outside was gained in those moments of alertness.

I had made one major mistake as I was flying that helicopter to safety, voicing aloud some parts of my thoughts over the radio. The radio was unencrypted, and a news crew that had a scanner had recorded everything. While nothing I had said revealed the true nature of our abilities, or that I even shared such abilities in common with the deceased Rahlil and Sofia, I had muttered 'I got the bastards that started everything.' I also had muttered 'They killed over a billion people. At least they won't be able to do it again.'

From the way the three older clerics had told the story of what they had observed, there was no hint that I'd 'executed' the twins or anyone else in that room. The early consensus, as related to me by Martha, among the news broadcasters was that I'd killed people attacking me, and that I'd attempted to wound the last one, Rahlil so he could be brought to trial. That had given him the chance to stab me, and I'd been forced to kill him.

I was being criticized for not having killed him outright, for giving him a chance to wound me, instead of executing him on sight.

The UIC had jumped onto the bandwagon by issuing a statement. They stated that I'd come to them, asking for their help in tracking down these vile murderers, and that they'd cooperated fully with me. Khulari himself was shown on camera leading a prayer of thanks that people who had nearly caused the ruin of the world had been brought to justice, and a prayer for my speedy recovery. Henry and mom were in the air now, flying towards Israel as fast as their plane could go, and broadcasters were speculating on if my injuries were more severe than had been indicated by the doctors. There were even offers to send the world's best surgeons to Israel to help in my recovery and when Martha told me that, I'd looked at her with scared eyes while Paul laughed.

"You don't look that sick." Henry's voice preceded him into my room the next day and I smiled at seeing his blond headed face. Mom was right behind him, entering my private room on another floor, outside of ICU. She looked happy, and relieved as well.

"Dylan Jacobs, if you ever get yourself hurt like this again, I'm going to ground you for an entire year." Mom said sternly as both of them took positions on either side of the bed. Mom leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek before taking my right hand while Henry grasped my left gently.

"Promise?" I asked her in a weak voice and they both laughed. I might have laughed too, but it hurt like hell when I did.

"Your father is both very pissed and very happy right now." She told me sternly and I smiled weakly.

"You've always said you'd like to go to Israel again." I told her and she laughed. "I just thought I'd give you a reason for a trip out here now."

"That is the most stupid piece of logic I've ever heard from you." Henry said firmly while mom laughed again. "So, how does it feel to be the man who delivered justice to those that almost ruined the world?"

"It hurts like hell." I said softly and mom got a stern look on her face.

"Let that be a lesson to you, next time." She told me. "In the future, you just kill them before they have a chance to hurt you."

"MOM!" I exclaimed somewhat loudly, and then clutched my still-healing abdomen. She sounded bloodthirsty there for a moment.

"I'm serious, Dylan." She told me with that same stern look. "Just because your father is the general and I'm the good wife doesn't mean that I don't understand a lot more than you ever give me credit for. I'm as involved in everything as either of you are, and have been for a lot longer. I may do things that aren't as visible, or dangerous as the two of you - good grief, the scars you and Henry have - but I'm a woman and they don't look as attractive on me as they do on you two."

"Henry?" I asked, knowing he'd never been hurt enough to have scars. He shrugged before replying.

"Stray bullets in Mexico City." Henry explained. "One grazed me on the arm. Then the kid I found causing problems there almost knifed me. Walters got him in a head shot."

"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about." Mom said firmly. "Both of you try to talk to these kids like you, hoping to get them into your little school and they end up trying to stab you. Just shoot them from now on."

"You know?" I asked her in a stunned voice. We'd never planned on telling her of our abilities.

"Yes, I do know." She said with what sounded like exasperation. "You Jacobs men, always thinking the little women can't handle the full truth about her own sons. Henry told me all about your little abilities when the story broke about these 'drug' children. In all honesty, I probably understand some things a lot better than your dad does. You all seem to forget who my parents were, and that they had a lot of connections in the defense industry. They knew the study was backed by the government and they didn't want me to participate, and they refused to have anything to do with Henry because it was a government program."

"Oh, wow." I muttered and she patted my shoulder gently.

"Don't worry, Dylan." She comforted me warmly and I realized once again how lucky I was to have her now. "I will always love you both, no matter what. I've talked with dad and from now on I'll be working with the two of you and your school children as well. You men haven't been doing to badly, but what you've both been through recently proves that these other children are potentially dangerous. We have to be sure of them before we let them out, and while you've made a good start, you haven't really been going about it the right way."

"How's that?" I asked her with a lot of curiosity.

"We have to make sure these kids are absolutely loyal to you, and to us." Mom said. "I know you've made a good start, but you haven't been doing it enough. Their loyalty to you has to be the loyalty you feel to family, not just to country or ideas. You started it right with this Tim and Jeremy. I've met both of them - remember? They look at you two like older brothers, and that's what we need, for them to think of us as their family, their parents and older siblings. Family doesn't have to be blood related, and in fact the family bonds someone willingly chooses are stronger than any other relationship out there. Once you get back on your feet, we'll start building those family bonds with these children. I've talked to dad and we'll be spending some time at this school. He's working up a public relations story for that. I'm also traveling back with you Dylan. I want to get to know your little 'circle' better. From what I saw of Henry's it's like a big family and I want to make sure you're both treating them right."

"Uh…" I stuttered, not sure of how she'd respond to some of the ways we interacted and she just frowned at me.

"Don't think I'm going to flip out about who sleeps with who." She told me firmly and my eyes just widened. "I can do the math and you have a lot more men in your circle than Henry does. I'm not going to judge you on that Dylan. Just make sure everything stays quiet."

"Yes ma'am." I said softly, hoping in vain this was a drug induced dream.

"Now, let's talk about what really happened." She said firmly, pulling up a chair and sitting down in it primly. "Your people gave dad a fairly good picture, but they weren't in the room so they can't tell us everything. Start talking."

"Uh, well, it started out just like I had expected." I said as I began to tell her the story of that day's events. I found that my previous assumptions on her intelligence had underestimated her by a fair margin as she asked very good questions throughout my telling of the events. When I was done, I was exhausted, something she picked up on quickly, so she kissed me goodbye and left with Henry in tow.

I napped again for several hours and woke up in time for dinner, which the three of us ate together in my room. I was on liquid foods, which meant Jell-O mostly. Henry made sure to eat some chicken parmesan that smelled wonderful and got a lot of nasty looks from me, nasty looks that he enjoyed. The conversation related mostly to a video conference they had held with dad that afternoon while I slept.

Naturally, most of the world leaders were demanding more information on what had happened, and the links between Sofia and Rahlil and the Crisis. While some seemed angry or upset, most just seemed to want to know more information. After some discussion, an international summit would be held in two weeks, once I'd recovered enough from my injuries. It would be announced later today (for the US evening news which was still several hours away due to time zones) that dad would be attending, as would Mom and I. Mom would fly with me up to the meeting site in Geneva, Switzerland. I also had been tentatively cleared for a short press conference in the morning, mostly to show that I was doing okay.

Why they thought me being wheeled into a room on a wheelchair would make me look okay I had no idea, but mom was quite insistent. Darren Knight and Martha were busy working with the Presidio on what I'd be saying and were supposed to bring a rough draft for me to start working on later that evening. The rest of the evening passed quietly, but with a steady stream of visitors.

Each and every member of my circle managed to filter into the room, and I spent a few minutes with each of them, touching them quietly, and talking in quiet tones. My injury, and what they viewed as a 'near brush with death' had unsettled them, and because of the bond, they were all on extreme edge. It was also a good experience for me, because that first day in ICU, I'd really felt no part of my ability as being awake and as I called it up to brush each member of my circle lightly with it, I was relieved to feel it working normally.

I was asleep after the last of them left, and didn't wake up at all, despite the nurses entering and leaving the room every hour.

When I finally woke the next morning, way past 0800 hours and very late for me, the first order of business was the removal of my catheter. That was a distinctly unpleasant experience, made even worse by the attempts at sounding comforting from the nurse while she manhandled my private parts. Then they wheeled me down to x-ray for some pictures of my stomach. The doctor moaned that he'd prefer an MRI scan, but that there wasn't enough power for the machine unless it was absolutely critical.

That was a good thing, because we'd learned at the school that MRI scans revealed a distinct electro-magnetic field around those of us gifted, and a much fainter field around our bonded. We'd initially thought to use this for detecting people like us, but the energy use, and size of the machines made that all but impossible. Maybe in the future advanced technology would yield a portable scanning device, but for now it wasn't possible. However, a scan of me by doctors here would raise too many questions, while the x-ray wouldn't. (The field was so subtle, even in Henry and I, that sensors used to detect similar fields in electronic objects failed to do so, even when touching us. It was something about the MRI scanning process that detected it at all, and our technicians had yet to figure out exactly what that something was.)

When I was returned to my room, Mom and Henry were waiting along with Martha and Knight. Mom and Martha were chatting like old friends, despite the nearly twelve years difference in their ages while Knight was chatting amicably with Henry. They were all here to discuss the upcoming press conference that would be timed to coincide with the early morning of the East Coast in America. The Israeli Prime Minister also wanted to visit today, as did the three clerics from the mosque. All that was being arranged for after my press conference, and was totally contingent upon how I felt.

Except for a little tingling, and pain if I moved too quickly or abruptly, I was actually feeling very good. Martha had brought detailed print outs of the speech dad had given last night, and the outlines of the speech I'd be giving to start the press conference. There were also several 'get well' messages from various countries that she wanted me to work on replies to later in the day. For a brief moment, I wondered if I could get the doctor to kick them all out so I could rest, but realized that I was just trying to be lazy.

Henry had also brought a very nice night robe that I'd wear to the actual news conference itself. I'd been in a hospital gown so far and the doctors refused to let me wear a shirt in case of something happening with my wound, so I accepted their ministrations with some grace. Martha pulled out a basin of water and while Darren put a plastic cape over me, she began to wash my hair gently. Having her and Darren washing my hair, and giving me a sponge bath didn't embarrass me, but having mom and Henry watch did.

"Shut up." I warned Henry as he startled giggling at my expression.

"Your face is quite amusing right now, dear." Mom said in a patronizing tone.

"That's it." I huffed angrily, locking gazes with my blond brother. "Stuff it now or I'm having Martha tell your people all about how wonderful it was doing this for me and then we'll see how long it takes for them to do the same to you! I'll also makes sure mom gets to watch that too!"

"You wouldn't." Henry stated soberly, his face a little pale and mom chuckled.

"If he doesn't, I will." She threatened and I was satisfied to see his sulky look, admitting defeat.

"Martha, I'm not made of glass." I said as Martha tried to get me so I was laying backwards into the basin of water for her to rinse my hair. "Just get it over with, will you?"

"Quiet, Dylan," Martha ordered me sharply. "or I'll have every member of your circle in here doing this each day you're in the hospital, and then every one will get a turn when we're out so they won't feel cheated."

"My, what a fine idea, Martha." Mom purred and I groaned aloud. She was suppose to hate hearing anything about our circles and how we interacted with them! Dad didn't react like this! It wasn't fair!

"Isn't Killmer one of your men?" Henry asked me once Martha had finished washing my hair and was now drying it. He was looking at something in a file that obviously didn't have anything to do with my upcoming press conference.

"Yes, he is, why?" I answered and asked at the same time.

"His younger brother, Fred, is on the list of the study children." Henry said, shocking me with the news.

"What?" I exclaimed, trying to sit up straighter, but Martha's hands on my head kept me from moving. "That explains the traces I found on him when I bonded him. We never did find anything when we looked into that."

"You remember what happened with his family last year, don't you?" Henry asked me and I nodded. It had been one of the first personal tragedies in my circle that came from the bonded member's outside life. Killmer's house had been destroyed during a riot started by Arian gangs. While no bodies were found inside, it was assumed they'd either fled or been taken, and no word had been heard from them since. Four of my men had accompanied Roger to his home and searched themselves for any sign of his family. While it had been a tough time for all of us, it had shown just how tightly knit we were and supportive of each other in hard times.

"Yes, I do." I answered Henry's question simply. "He is my bonded after all."

"I know that." Henry stated irritatedly. "I was just making sure. Anyway, his little brother was from the program like us. That does explain the trace of controls on Killmer when you met him. What's interesting though is that there was a report from a woman camping in the Rockies that she though she saw him at one of those new tourist villages that have been springing up. She knew the family and contacted her local law enforcement when she returned home. They got the Colorado State Police to search the area for him and they came up empty handed. It's not too surprising, though. A lot of people fled to the wilderness, the mountains, places like that when the Crisis began and never came back down. They've been starting up these tourist traps to get money now, but most of them aren't coming out of their camps."

"I've been telling dad he should do something about them for a while." Mom stated with an irritated frown. "If there's any chance of armed resistance, it's going to come from them first and we should wipe them out now."

"No, it's a good idea to let them continue." I argued softly. I could see right away why dad didn't move against them. "In fact, it'd be a good idea to encourage them to flourish a bit, and when the time comes that they may cause trouble, we know where they are and a few conventional fuel-air bombs takes care of them all."

"That's a little blood-thirsty, isn't it?" Henry asked me with a wide-eyed expression. We hadn't had much of a chance to discuss my thoughts in the mosque yet, so I wasn't surprised at his reaction.

"It is." I admitted with a shrug. "The alternative though, is to let them become a potential resistance group that can challenge our long-range plans. The old saying that 'birds of a feather flock together' is a very true one, and having them there now ensures we know where they are. A few agents within their groups keeps us well informed of their activities, and when the time comes, it is much more humane to just bomb them out of existence."

"How can it be more humane to kill them before you are certain they've done anything?" Mom asked me carefully, studying me very closely. "I was talking about rounding them and sending them to jail or ship them all to one of the Hawaiian Islands we don't need."

"As long as they are alive, they continue to pose a danger to society." I asserted firmly. "I know that simply wiping them out is a bit extreme and totally not necessary right now. By putting agents in the groups, we can find out those that are likely to become guerrilla agents and those that will be outcasts. We don't bomb them all, but those that pose a threat, we wipe out. Neither of you saw the memories of that Sofia girl, I did. Henry, when I've recovered a bit more, I'll share them with you. Mom, I'm sorry but except the normal way, there's no way for me to share them with you. Still, I learned something from those memories. I've learned something from being in this damn country as well. No matter how small their chance of success, these groups can and will become nests of rebellion when we make our long-range moves. If we wait to move on them until they start blowing things up, they'll kill a lot of innocent people before we crush them. If we just blow them up first, we won't have to deal with them killing innocents and then hunting them down."

"So, you're saying if Israel had taken a harder approach with the Palestinians from the beginning, they wouldn't have the problems they do today?" Henry said, extrapolating and then following what had been my likely thought processes.

"Not all of the Palestinians, just those that provided any resistance." I answered firmly and clearly while Martha went into the bathroom to dump the dirty water and Darren helped me into the comfortable blue robe. "The rest could eventually have been integrated into their society and not posed the threat they have for the past few decades."

"So you think we should consider the same for these groups?" Mom asked me cautiously and I nodded.

"Geographically, we aren't in as tight of a quarter as Israel." I explained. "We can even let the less militant groups flourish. The UIC uses Bahrain as a pressure valve for their citizens living under the strict Islamic law. They go there, indulge in their pleasures, and go home, content under the laws they live by day to day. The more peaceful groups will act as a similar valve, funneling out those who don't fit in well enough and can make it to them. Only the dangerous ones need to be destroyed."

"Several people have had similar ideas and were working on a similar plan, but using a place like Las Vegas or Atlantic City." Mom said and I nodded.

"I know, and they will work as well, but we also need a more permanent place for people to escape to, and they have to be well-infiltrated." I said and she nodded in agreement. After several minutes of silence, Henry nodded as well. A knock at the door announced the doctor who wanted to do one more check on me before I was unhooked from the monitoring machines and moved into a wheelchair. I'd be back on solid foods for dinner if my x-rays showed nothing wrong. A few minutes later, a nurse appeared and I was moved into the wheelchair, disconnected from the I.V. at last (although the needle stayed in my arm for the easier application of medicines.)

We moved down the floor of the hospital in a tight knot of people. Paul had four of my detail surrounding me as a nurse wheeled me towards the elevator and I felt my cheeks blushing slightly at having to be wheeled in a chair instead of walking. I was pretty sure I could have walked on my own, but there was no way anyone was going to listen to me. An elevator took us to a lower floor of the hospital and I was wheeled into a room that was full of blinding television camera lights as well as the flashing of camera strobes. There was a low table that held a microphone at the front of the room and the nurse positioned me in front of it. Mom sat on my left while Henry was on my right and the doctor on the other side of him. The room was silent while we got positioned and I noticed several members of Henry's detail lining the walls of the room. There must have been forty people in the room, and I made a mental note to myself that the vast hordes of media were growing once again.

"Good afternoon." I said once everyone was seated and the silence stretched almost to the point where some media person might have broken it first. I had my note cards prepared by Martha and Darren, and I was ready for this, I hoped. "I would like to first thank all those whose bravery and sacrifices in the last few days have made it possible for me to be here speaking today. Americans, Israelis, and Palestinians have all given their lives in the events of the last few days, and to them I, and many others, owe a debt of eternal gratitude. As will be detailed more fully later, those who gave their lives in recent events did not do so in vain.

"For the past few years, the United States and many other countries have been investigating the cause of what is now being called the Great Oil Crisis. As part of our negotiations with the UIC, we shared with their leadership the evidence of an international conspiracy that nearly shattered our world. This conspiracy reached across borders, across cultures, and threatened all of us.

"Yesterday, key information was received by Palestinian leaders and I went to learn this information from them so that an international force might be able to arrest the last members of this conspiracy and end their threat. Unfortunately, they learned of this meeting and moved to stop it from happening. Many people suffered injuries or death yesterday in stopping their attempt to end our pursuit of them. For what I pray will not be the last time, Palestinian, Israeli, and Americans fought side by side against a common enemy. Some paid the ultimate sacrifice, they gave their lives in the fight to defeat this enemy of the world.

"I was injured in that brief conflict, but thanks to the members of my security team, the Israeli Defense Forces, the Palestinian leadership, and the excellent doctors and nurses here, I was fortunate enough to survive. I know that you, and the people of the world in general, are anxious to find out more news of this conspiracy than you have received already. However, I must ask for your patience just a little while longer. In a few weeks, the President will meet with other world leaders and present to them everything we have gathered on this conspiracy, and how they were finally stopped. After that meeting, we will provide more detailed information. Suffice it to say for now that we have compiled most of the answers and once the leaders of the world have been given them, they will be fully disclosed to the public.

"Not because we think the people of the world don't deserve to know them now, but rather because we believe actions will be necessary on an international level to prevent anything like this from happening again. Give your leaders a chance to formulate a solution to prevent a similar occurrence in the future, before they give the details of what has happened. For now, the immediate threat is over, and we have an opportunity for peaceful cooperation that has rarely existed in the past. Now, the doctor has said I can answer a few questions, although I'm still a little tired. Please understand I won't answer any questions on the nature of the conspiracy or its specifics. Others I will answer as best as I can. Genevieve, let's start with you."

"Mr. Jacobs." Genevieve said as soon as the uproar had died down slightly. As soon as I had said I'd answer questions, people had began standing and raising their hands, barely waiting for my last line before shouting things out. Still, they quieted down when she spoke. "How do you answer allegations that the US government was keeping this conspiracy secret from those who needed to know?"

"Everyone who had a need to know, was informed about it as soon as possible." I answered her firmly. "It has always been our intention that the conspiracy would be fully revealed to the people. As it became necessary to gain the assistance of other countries, or they were directly threatened, they were informed as well. No one who needed to know was kept in the dark. We even took the step of informing the UIC directly, even before the conclusion of our recent treaty. Next question?"

"Were the other members of the Jacobs family informed of this conspiracy?" A dark-haired woman asked with a French accent.

"Yes, we were all targets of this conspiracy in the early days of our Administration." Mom answered the question for us. "The conspirators sought to continue the conflict between the United States and our allies. As such, we were all major targets in the early days, and for reasons that will be made more public later, both Dylan and Henry were ideally suited to participate in tracking down members of this conspiracy. We won't answer more specifics on that until the meeting in a few weeks. As parents, both Jim and I were reticent to include them in the search for these conspirators, but it was necessary and we bowed to our duty as a family to the people of the United States, and to the world as a whole."

"How are you feeling now?" Another reporter asked, shouting the loudest of those that were asking questions, and since it changed the topic, I chose to answer that one.

"Tired and sore is how I'm feeling right now." I answered him with a sigh. "I'm also grateful for all those that helped me survive the last few days, and I'm relieved that this whole situation has finally reached a resolution point that allows us to reveal the full picture to the world. I don't like secrets being kept from people that they deserve to know. Until now, it's been necessary to keep a lot of this secret, but in a few days we'll finally be able to give a full accounting to the world, and that makes me feel very relieved."

"Is it true that a sixteen year old American girl was killed in the second bombing at the Prime Minister's office?" A female Israeli reporter asked and I glanced at Martha real quick for guidance on this one. She just nodded shortly, indicating to answer the question, one that we had notanticipated.

"Yes, Jennifer LeMay was a member of my staff who died in that bombing, along with a member of my security detail and many Israeli soldiers." I answered in a soft voice. "She was a friend, and very competent young woman. When we needed additional help in keeping the Prime Minister safe, she volunteered and bravely fulfilled every duty requested of her. Her loss, and the loss of the others in that attack are only mitigated by the fact that they were among the last that these people will ever cause."

"How long will you be in the hospital?" Daro Fo asked and I was surprised at the softball question from him.

"Hopefully, not more than a few days." I said with a small chuckle. Even that still hurt a little and I paused to grasp my side before continuing. "Although if I'm not careful, the good doctor here might tie me down to make sure I don't hurt myself again."

"I think that will be enough for now." The referenced good doctor said with a slight grin. He'd caught the hint that I wanted him to end this now. "Mr. Jacobs is recovering quite well, as I mentioned before. His youth and excellent physical condition are speeding his recovery from what could have been a very serious wound. We do not want to tire him out needlessly though."

A half-hour later, I was listening to Henry tell me how Mexico was now a US Protectorate, partially. Northern Mexico was now a separate protectorate with a Governor-General that dad had appointed and would be confirmed by Congress in the next few weeks. Central Mexico, with the Mexico City area almost the southern border was also its own protectorate, while Southern Mexico was given its independence. For the past forty years people in that area had fought and campaigned for their own independence.

Now they had that and forty million dollars in aid money for five years.

Getting saddled with the Mexican population would be a drain on the United States economy, except for several important factors. First of those was the oil reserves we got from them. Since all oil production and refinement was nationalized, and only finished products sold to private gas companies for distribution and public sale, revenues from oil went directly into federal coffers. Revenue from the Mexican fields would produce more than enough revenue to offset federal monies spent there on a two-to-one basis. The other reason was that many American companies had out-sourced factories and whole industries to Northern Mexico and now that they were an American Protectorate, those factories and their workers would be contributing to the American economy.

Our discussion was cut short by the entrance of the elderly doctor who had been overseeing my recovery and who had operated on me. He had a grim look on his face as he entered, an x-ray in his hands and he spoke very quietly. "Mr. Jacobs, we have a problem, and quite frankly I have no idea exactly what it is yet."

"What do you mean, doctor?" Mom asked him very worriedly.

The doctor held up the x-ray in his hands and looked at it with a deep frown. "Either Mr. Jacobs is re-growing his spleen, a medical impossibility or something was left inside him from the surgery." He answered and I looked at the x-ray he was holding with a sinking feeling. "We're asking to get more power for an MRI, but we're probably going to have to do another surgery to take whatever it is out."

This was not going to be fun.