“Lord Jesus, please spare my child. Please” My mother’s voice sounded very distant. My vision was still shrouded in darkness. But I slowly regained full consciousness and groaned. Immediately, I felt tiny hands upon mine. They were Catherine and Caroline’s. My hair was stroked by my mom as she swooped to my side by the bed.
“Oh, thank you, Lord! Thank you!” she prayed aloud, “Darling, are you all right?”
“Y-yeah,” I said quietly, opening my eyes, “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you all okay? Is anyone hurt?”
“No,” said mom, “No, everyone is safe. Thank God,”
“Where’s dad?” I said glancing about. Even though it was early morning, it was unusually dark in my bedroom. No lamps were on. Only the thin strips of light through the blinds illuminated my surroundings.
“I’m here, sweetie,” he said, approaching my bed from the other side. He put his hands on my arm.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m A-Okay!” he said with one of his goofy grins. I chuckled softly and leaned back on my pillow. An agonizing fatigue swept over me. My typical energy was completely exhausted and I felt cold. Then I remembered. Images from the night prior flashed through my mind: the fires, the menacing grin of Malacoda…the surging energy that pulsed through my body. I then struggled to sit up again.
“Dad,” I said, “What happened to me?”
“Your father told me,” said mom, “A few Ultra Guards came by just in the nick of time and rescued you. They stopped that gang leader and chased his cronies away. Can you believe they showed up right when we all were in danger? It was a miracle!”
As she spoke, I flicked my eyes towards dad. He had a strange nervousness about him. He nodded in affirmation as she retold the story, but it was overwrought. He then locked eyes with me. That look told me to remain quiet and go along.
“Yeah,” I said awkwardly, “It certainly was,”
“It was so scary,” said Clarissa, “After you ran outside to help dad, we all hid in the bathroom in case we needed to escape out the window. But suddenly, we saw a blinding light from outside. The next thing we knew, dad was carrying you back inside the house.”
“Oh, wow” I said,
“We wanted to see what happened on TV,” interjected Caroline.
“But, the power isn’t working,” said Catherine, as she pressed the on button on the remote control several times. No matter how many times she clicked, the screen remained black. My dad glanced at me with a look of relief on his face.
“The whole city has lost power,” said mother, “No internet, no light, no running water, nothing”
“But we’ll be okay,” said father, “The National Guard is already bringing in supplies like bottled water. We’ll be fine.”
“Oh, good,” I said, “Maybe we can take a break from the news, at least for a while,”
After a few moments, my mother and sisters exited the room. My father remained at my side and sat perfectly still until the sounds of footsteps heading downstairs had ceased.
“Dad,” I whispered to him, “Why did you-”
“Shhhh,” he said as he cupped my hand in his. His brow was furrowed and the edges of his lips were curled upwards in a sorrowful smile. He stroked my hand, trying to figure out what to say.
“No one needs to know,” he said. His whisper was almost inaudible. “At least, not right now. If people knew, then…I don’t know what would happen to us.”
“But, they’re going to find out eventually,” I whispered back.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he said. I could tell from his mannerisms what was going on inside his head. He knew that he was fighting against the inevitable. He then looked over his shoulder to check the opened doorway and then looked back. “If people do find out…if anyone asks, please just-”
“Don’t worry,” I said, sitting up and grasping his hands in mine, “I won’t say anything.” He smiled warmly and sighed. “By the way,” I continued, “Thank you for saving my life.”
“No,” he said, “Thank you for saving my life…our lives.” He then reached out and wiped a tear that was falling from my eye. I smiled back at him, but inside I was ripped apart by a crippling fear.
Two days passed. It was the Fourth of July. All festivities had been canceled. There were no outdoor cookouts, no sounds of fireworks booming over the rooftops, and no parades marching down the streets. Instead, the streets were deserted and quiet. Everyone had barricaded themselves inside, clinging on to their families and their firearms. The streets had been turned into a warzone that first night, but the National Guard and the Ultra Guard had stopped the riots, at least for now.
My mother lit a few candles at our dinner table. Our meal for the evening would be some canned goods distributed to us by the National Guard. It certainly wasn’t our typical Fourth of July dinner. But, it was better than nothing. My father and mother sat on either end of the rectangular table, with my sisters and I spaced out on either side. Together, we sat in the shallow pool of candlelight in the darkened bakery parlor. Despite the circumstances, my folks did their best to treat this evening like any other.
“Carmen,” said my dad, “Why don’t you start us off with prayer and we can each have a turn?”
“Okay,” said mom. We all held hands and bowed our heads for prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, we are thankful for so much this evening. Thank you for keeping us all safe these last few days. We also pray for those who are still in need,” She then gave the hand of Clarissa a squeeze.
“Thank you, Lord for the Ultra Guard who saved Cassie and Daddy the other night. Bless them and protect them,” She then motioned for Caroline to go next.
“Thank you God for these delicious beans!” she said. Catherine was next.
“And thank you God for…um…these forks and plates!” It was my turn now. Praying out loud wasn’t my favorite thing in the world. I struggled to think of what to say that hadn’t already been said. Without much planning, I began to speak.
“Thank you…for Commander.” I said, “Even though he’s not with us anymore, we are grateful for all that he has done for our country. He was a good man.” It was now my dad’s turn.
“Lord, we pray for our nation,” he began, “We pray that things will return to normal soon; that these renegades will be brought to justice, and that our remaining two Allegiant will be successful in their missions. But, God, thank you for blessing our family with this country. Thank you for allowing us to be in a place where we can run this bakery and worship you in peace. Amen!”
Right when he said “Amen” the power was restored. Light flooded into our parlor. The twins cheered. The typical ambient TV noise was also restored. Panicked, my dad rushed to grab the remote control which was stationed behind the counter. I knew immediately what he was frantic about. With each click, he jumped from channel to channel, seeing if any footage of me from the other night was being shown. We all caught snippets from each channel for a brief moment before moving on.
"Everything is under control!" said a sweaty politician in an ill-fitting suit on one channel.
"These renegade groups are simply misunderstood!" said a young college student with green hair on another channel.
"The Commander's death was an inside job by the U.S. government!" said a man inexplicably dressed as Benjamin Franklin on a third channel.
Most of these far-flung statements were immediately disregarded by my dad as he flipped through the channels. But then, he came across the deep voice of Clint Armstrong, Allegiant TV host, causing him to pause and listen.
"Good evening, my fellow Patriots," Clint Armstrong would always say before starting one of his famous monologues, except this time, his usual bravado was missing. "I won't sugar coat it for you,” he said, “This is truly one of our nation's darkest chapters." He continued to speak as he paced back and forth in front of a computer-generated backdrop of ever-changing red, white, and blue shapes. "Our country is being ravaged and claimed by renegades one street at a time." Video screens of the violence appeared behind him. "There is looting and civil unrest in almost every major city in the U.S.: Los Angeles, Chicago, Atlanta, Baltimore, Miami, and many more. Other cities like London, Toronto, Paris, and Tokyo also have rioting. It has taken the combined efforts of the military, National Guard, Ultra Guard, law enforcement, and the Allegiant to quell these insurgencies, but that was only after three consecutive days of mayhem, and even now there is no peace. Hundreds of civilians have been killed. Countless businesses and livelihoods are ruined. Billions of dollars have been lost either in the mass chaos or the sudden economic panic that followed the slaying of Commander."
It was hard to watch. There were so many scenes of renegades storming police barricades and fires being set to storefronts. All the while, somber music was playing softly in the background. But then, the music became hopeful and uplifting.
“However,” continued Armstrong, “This is the United States: the land of the free and the home of the brave. Heroes in all shapes and forms have risen to the challenge.” Footage of our remaining two Class-A Allegiant was shown. Minute-Man, in his blue and gold outfit, was zipping about the streets of some major city, pummeling renegades in a flash of fury. Lieutenant Lonestar, in his typical expression of steely determination, was levitating heavy debris from a crumbled structure, liberating the trapped civilians underneath. The music swelled as the footage transitioned to everyday heroes - police, firefighters, EMTs, and military personnel - working to transport the injured to hospitals or to apprehend renegades.
“Their bravery in these dire times is truly inspiring,” said Armstrong, “We salute you all, brave men and women of America!” Behind Clint was an American Flag blowing in the wind against a setting sun. He finished his salute before turning to face a different camera. “And we salute our fallen defender.”
The background changed to an animated photograph of Commander. His blue eyes were looking off into the distance at some unseen threat, yet a slight smile was upon his lips, indicating that he was more than ready to face the challenge head-on. To either side of his shoulders were superimposed videos of Commander’s most iconic acts of heroism: when he carried a commercial airliner to safety, when he stopped a runaway train in its tracks, and -most importantly- when he saved that small town in the Pacific Northwest from an erupting volcano. He stood triumphantly against the devastated landscape, with a smoldering volcano at his back and a young woman held gently in his arms. Clouds of ash were all around him, yet his white uniform and cape shone brightly in a shaft of sunlight. It was a harrowing image; one that would live on throughout the ages. Yet, it was hard to dismiss the other image that was invading my mind - of Commander kneeling on the ground, broken and defeated by his enemies.
“Adam Harper, known throughout the world as Commander, was everything an American should be,” said Armstrong, “Loyal. Selfless. Pure. But most of all, courageous. He was willing to lay down his life to save others. Truly, heroes like him come once in a lifetime.” He then paused as the screen behind him went dark. “Or do they?” he said with a raised brow.
The screen lit up again, revealing new footage that I had never seen before. Yet, it looked strangely familiar. I recognized the streets of Little Havana in Miami. There was a two-story bakery apartment with red, white, and blue awnings. Standing in front of it, surrounded by a swarm of Imps was a glowing figure. It was me.
My father stood and marched towards the TV in disbelief. The mouths of my mother and sisters were agape. No one said anything as they watched me send Malacoda flying with a single punch to the jaw. The banner at the bottom of the screen read, “Mystery Girl Saves Miami Neighborhood”.
“Carlos,” said my mother through gritted teeth, “You told me that-”
“Shhh!” said Clarissa before returning her attention to the TV.
“Amidst the darkness of that fateful day was a shining ember of hope,” said Clint, “This girl, whoever she is, stood against an army of renegades and saved her city from destruction. Like Commander, she did not retreat in the face of death. Her awesome power was manifested in that moment and turned the tide, no doubt saving countless innocent lives in the process. This local news footage has been shared millions of times on social media and has been seen by the entire globe. Viewers everywhere are asking themselves, ‘Who is this girl, where is she now, and what will she do next?’” Clint then turned to the camera and seemed to be speaking directly to me. “But I ask these questions to you. What will you do next? Will you step up to the plate? Will you be the next Commander? Will you be a hero?”
There was a loud knock at the door, causing all of us to jump in place. We all stopped and listened. My dad muted the TV and waited. All of our breath was held in place. A moment passed. Nothing. Then, another loud knock at the door.
My dad crept to the front door and glanced through the adjacent window. He peered back at us with a puzzled expression before slowly opening the door. My sisters and I stood in place and watched from a distance. Three government agents were in the doorway. The two standing in the back were inspecting the streets; most likely security. The one in front was a woman with her hair pulled back tightly in a bun.
“Carlos Cruz?” she said.
“Yes. That’s me” said my father inquisitively. The woman then held out a badge.
“My name is Agent Farmer. I’m with the Department of Allegiant Affairs. Could we come inside and talk for a bit?” My dad fumbled over his words for a second before responding.
“I, what, um, what is this about?” From his tone of voice, it was obvious that he already knew what this was about.
“Sir, we understand that you live here with your wife, Carmen, and your four daughters, one of them being Cassandra Cruz, age eighteen.”
“Yes,” said my dad after a delay, “That’s true.” I noticed that my dad balled up his fist. By this point, my mother and sisters were at my side, holding onto my shoulders. “...And?” said my father again.
“We wish to speak with you about your daughter. We know that she was the one from the other night and-” My father interrupted her.
“No, no no no,” he said waving his hand, “You’re mistaken. That wasn’t her on the news. Believe me. I saw the whole thing take place from my upstairs window. It was some other girl. I think she lives down the street and-”
“Sir,” said Agent Farmer calmly, tilting her head down and peering at my dad with a condescending look, “It was your daughter.” There was a long pause of tense silence. All the while, the agent did not break her gaze. Eventually, I saw my father’s shoulders stoop low.
“You’re not taking her away from me,” he whispered.
“We have no intention of taking her away from you, sir,” said Agent Farmer.
“Then what do you want?”
“We believe that she may be a Class-A Ultra, one of the only Class-As in the United States.” began Agent Farmer, “We wish to conduct some studies to confirm it if that’s all right. If it’s true…then we are very much interested in discussing the possibility of her becoming an Allegiant.”
The floor seemed to fall out from beneath me. Even though I was still standing, held in place by my mother and sisters, I was falling deeper and deeper into a yawning abyss. What awaited me at the bottom of this descent was a mystery…a descent born from a single word - Allegiant.
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