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Madison Cartwright straightened the Purple Heart pinned to her uniform. She was sitting smack dab in the middle of the White House, towards the end of a table filled with US soldiers like herself.

Picking at her salad, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It was one hell of a time to get her period, that was for sure. Not to mention that she needed a cigarette so badly she would hop the next plane back to Afghanistan if she could get it.

She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, looked over at President Bush. He was laughing at some comment that his daughter made, his weary face lighting up into a more youthful one. Nibbling on a piece of lettuce, she looked down the table. Her fellow soldiers seemed to be having the time of their lives. One week out of forsaken Afghanistan with it's car bombings, mortars flying, and those fucking OPs. She personally thought the OPs were worse then being shot at. High above the world and looking into the city with nothing to do but chain smoke for 13 hours. Or how about lugging 80 pounds on your bag as you lie in some ant hill in the middle of the desert, sweat pouring down your face from the 115 degree weather. Those fucking disease spreading insects biting at your exposed skin.

Sure. The White House was a breath of fresh air, and being back in the States was a relief beyond words. But her family was still in Afghanistan. The soldiers she had met in her platoon, the ones who saved her ass more then a few times. The States held no family for her. Her Father left when she was four and her Mother and grandparents died on September 11th. It was the whole reason she signed up for the Army.

It was when she took the next bite of her salad that everything happened. When even the States--home, turned into a fucking war.

Military personal came flying into the room, heading straight for the President. The man who had grabbed his arm kept his voice lowered but the whole room heard everything in their deathly silence.

"...bomb shelter, Mr. President. There are five missiles heading for DC as we speak. They should be here in four minutes, Sir."

The whole room exploded in panic. Soldiers jumped up and ran in every direction. Screams filled the entire room, bouncing off the walls and becoming hollow in Madison's brain. A coldness spread across her. The same coldness that came every time something bad had happened and it was life or death based on her next decision. Her cool gray eyes were locked on the President as she stood, making her way through the panicked crowd towards the Bush family. She followed them out of the room, followed them down hallways and through a door. Down a staircase that wound and wound until it was no longer walls around them but cement. A man behind the frightened Bush family turned to look at her but said nothing as she followed.

The staircase cleared to a small room. So small you could only fit maybe three people in it. The man pressed himself against the cement wall, a spider crawling off its web and onto his shoulder. He brushed it aside hastily, leaning down to a small black latch in the ground. Another man came to help him, both of them groaning as they lifted up the metal door. A ladder hung from the side, providing a way down into what Madison could only guess was the bomb shelter. Right under the White House.

The Bush family, that had no idea of her presence, went one by one down the ladder. The First Lady was last, looking up at Madison with deranged fear and confusion. Madison stepped forward, an arm flying into her abdomen.

"This shelter is strictly for the President and his family. No--" The man started.

"Shut the fuck up, Henry," The second man spoke, turning his eyes to Madison. "Hurry up and get down there before we all fucking rot up here."

Madison didn't have to be told twice, only gripping onto the sides of the ladder. Her feet clung to the sides as well and she let herself slide down it, her hands burning as she reached the bottom. Henry followed down in much the same way, waiting for his friend to follow after.

Madison felt the hot waves of panic creeping up into her heart. It bit at the edges of her brain, her palms starting to sweat. She rubbed them against the sides of her uniform, swallowing the lump in her throat. She was safe now, right? No reason to panic. That still didn't stop the rapid beating of her heart or the lump that kept forcing it's way back up.

She breathed deeply, looking around the large shelter. The walls were a grimy cement but she guessed the rest was as plush as possible. The floor was carpeted, two couches and a recliner stood in the center and faced a TV. Towards the left corner of the far wall were shelves stacked with food. The far right corner were shelves stacked with everything else. Can openers, batteries, flashlights, medical kits, duct tape, et. There were two king sized beds against the right wall, small folded up cots were lined up near them. To her left were tables, two men already standing post. Radios and computers filled all the tables and desks, shouting filled the room. The wall behind her was where the table was and another door leading to what she guessed had to be the bathroom. A chess set stood--the door above the ladder slammed and she jumped.

"Fifteen seconds!" A man near the tables shouted. Henry and Unnamed ran over to them, hands flying against radio dials and keyboards.

The Bush family had sat down on the couch, some paleness washing from their faces. They knew they were just as safe. They were so deep in the earth that the only thing threatening them was if the entire world blew up. Behind Madison, the countdown from ten had begun. When they reached one, only a single thing happened. The power went off. Seconds later it came back up, run on generators and batteries.

"Hello?" A radio man asked, flipping switches on the device.

"It...it hit. Lost power in bomb shelter 9DC. Generators just came on." Sounded through the radio. Every other bomb shelter checked in afterwards, but all were frantically trying to get a hold of the radio men on land.

"All those people." One of Bush's daughter cried.

Madison stared intensely at the radio. All her friends were in Manhattan but still...the devastation. Those soldiers. Her hand jerked to her mouth, her eyes wide and scared above her fingers. She closed them and prayed. Prayed for something.

"Post...29. Third missile...on way..."The radio fizzled, static interrupting before a strange popping noise. "Land...flattened. All was destroyed. Fu--" The voice cut off with a small whine, a loud explosion blasting through the speakers.

"Fuck," A radio man cried, jumping to his feet and throwing his pen across the room. "Fuck!"

Henry swirled around in his chair, his face grave and his eyes searching for the Presidents.

"Mr. President. The fourth missile seems to be headed straight for the White House, Sir. It should be here in 30 seconds, Sir."

Bush simply nodded, holding his wives head closer to his chest. His eyes were cold, numb. He was staring dimly at the far wall, his wrinkled hand sliding against his wives hair. His daughters were shaking their heads, crying and huddled against one another.

Madison's head jerked towards the roof as an explosion sounded off above them. Screams sliced into the air, pieces of house and staircase falling on top of the bomb shelter and death hung around them...thick and suffocating.