Edits pending

September 7th, 2017

2.33 pm, Naval Air Station Key West, Florida

 

“Any comment on yesterday’s terror attack?” Ruth Rachel Lane AKA Ruthless asks.

 

The male US Marine being addressed examines the 5’7 light-brown eyed woman with short dark brown hair who has interrupted his walking. He then peers past to a pair of MPs. After this rapid examination, the Marine simply shakes his head then steps past Ruthless and continues on. Ruthless sighs as yet another potential interviewee leaves her baking in the Florida sun. 

 

The military and their secrets. Ruthless thinks to herself as she exhales then starts walking. Two female MPs follow Ruthless while remaining mum.

 

A deadzone resides around Ruthless. Maybe it is her cream button shirt and short dark skirt, civilian clothing that sticks out in a sea of standard military uniforms. Or perhaps it is because of the badge hanging from her neck that reads “Press”. Either way, Ruthless is getting no leads.

 

“You two must be terrible at fishing.” Ruthless says yet her escorts are unresponsive.

 

Freedom of the press had granted Ruthless access to the news’ cycle hottest location but her credentials were barely enough to get her in the front door. While other journalists had only gotten one escort, Ruthless was blessed with two and their eagle-eyes were always on her. 

 

“So absolutely no one wants to talk to the press?” Ruthless says as she faces the pair of MPs.

 

Perhaps it was a blowback from bringing down the former US President with an expose. Which government would enjoy their complacency in corruption being aired like dirty laundry.

 

“If you force the press into the cold, all you will get are lies and innuendo.” Ruthless protests.

 

“You were granted early access to prepare for tomorrow’s funeral.” One of the MPs says calmly, “If you find this excursion pointless then you are free to leave, ma’am.”

 

Ruthless, truth is your business. Remember. Ruthless says in her head as she turns around.

 

The trio arrive at the base’s clinic. The hallway buzzes with medical personnel moving about orderly while discussing private matters. Some people are badged up but nothing looks urgent. Some people look up at the new arrivals but quickly lose interest at the sight of the Press ID.

 

Ruthless takes it all in then asks, “Can you at least point me in the direction of the ladies room?”

 

“This way, ma’am.” One of the MPs says as they take the lead.

 

Two minutes later, Ruthless is in a closed bathroom stall with her thoughts while flipping through emails on her iPhone. Her two escorts are standing in the wider restroom beyond the stall door.

 

I could give them the slip… nah, not juicy enough to take a leap. Ruthless thinks to herself.

 

A door opens. Two pairs of footsteps. Then a conversation.

 

“Can you believe those guys were so squeamish over body bags?” A female voice asks.

 

“They were probably just rookies.” Another female voice says.

 

“But who were in those bags?” The other female asks.

 

“Sssh.” A different voice urges.

 

“Sorry.” Both female voices whisper. Footsteps scurry out of the restroom. Silence.

 

Scoop. Ruthless thinks to herself after a moment passes. She then tidies up and leaves her bathroom stall. She proceeds to wash her hands under the relentless watch of her escorts.

 

“How many casualties were there really?” Ruthless asks, drying her hands with a paper towel. 

 

“That is a matter of National Security.” One of the MPs says.

 

“Mhm.” Ruthless says as she throws away the paper towel, “Maybe fishing is for you after all.” 

Somewhere, a TV screen comes alive.

 

“Are you claiming that America is under attack, Sara?” Jake Wolf asks.

 

“The writing is on the wall, Jake.” Sara Pauline responds, “In the span of a few days, the President’s granddaughters were kidnapped and an American base on home soil suffered a devastating terror attack.”

 

“There is no official confirmation that both actions are actually connected.” Jake retorts, “It’s too bad you no longer have access to national intelligence briefings.”

 

“That might be true but I still have friends in high places.” Sara says, “And they tell me that there was more than one casualty.”

 

“You are referring to the unsubstantiated rumors regarding body bags at Naval Air Station Key West.” Jake says, “It was probably just disposal of the terrorists, not a sinister cover up.”

 

“Perhaps the government should hire you for PR.” Sara says.

 

“I am an impartial reporter. I won’t jump on hearsay alone.” Jake says, “No one has confirmed on the record what the gossip really means, even though multiple journalists heard something.”

 

“That’s just President Pond hiding her incompetence.” Sara says, “Afterall, she has been vocal about shrinking our military’s budget. And her response has been nothing but weak.”

 

“The cuts and funds redirection simply followed the trend set by President Washy, the 44th President.” Jake says, “President Pond has continued redirecting funds to our healthcare, infrastructure, and education sectors. But don’t worry, with a $550 billion budget we are still outspending our allies and enemies.”

 

“Our brave men and women are not accountants, they deserve more respect.” Sara retorts.

 

“Well, we are in no major wars. The Middle East has stabilized with Syria splitting in two and Israel in the midst of a two-state deal. The Iran deal and Yemen armistice has proven effective in stabilizing the overall region.” Jake says, “Even Russia has relaxed after failing to annex Crimea and half failing to influence our elections. North Korea has simmered down and the TPP has shown promise in encouraging China to play fair.”

 

“This impromptu on-air job interview is going well for you.” Sara says, “I hear Ruthless is hiring.”

 

“Again, I’m just an impartial reporter reporting on the facts.” Jake says.