Clearwater Beach, Florida
Cuba stepped onto the beach with a complete air of pompous self-satisfaction. In just 12 hours, he had conquered the Florida Keys and was now at the rip of the peninsula. He had finally done it. America was gone and now he, Cuba, would rise as the world's next great superpower-
SMASH ! His internal gloat was painfully interrupted when his face was reintroduced to his half-sisters fist. In his triumph, the island dictatorship had failed to notice the basketball jersey and jean shorts clad representative Florida; a mistake his nose was paying dearly for.
Landing painfully on his back in the sand after an impressive amount of hang time, Cuba lay dazed as Florida loomed over him, a sight that had sent stronger men running in fear. Inez Carriedo-Jones was the third strongest state and tended to hold extreme grudges, a deadly combination no matter how you looked at it.
Standing at 5'11, she was slender and very tan with mid-back length black hair, dark eyes, and high cheek bones. In short, she was as gorgeous as her land. Unfortunately, her temperament usually tended to match the hurricanes that ravished it.
"What are you doing here, Manuel?" she demanded as she lifted Cuba up by his collar and fixed him with an evil glare.
"Um… visiting?" Manuel said weakly, deciding it best not to aggravate her any more than he apparently already had. It always helped that he could clearly see the stray curl that represented the Keys springing off the side of her head, a clear statement that he hadn't been as successful as he had hoped. On the contrary, he had only ticked her off.
It was clear from Inez's expression that she didn't believe him in the slightest, not that it was a surprise. The tropical state hated Spain and his colonies, present or former, even though she herself had once been one. Actually, now that he thought about, maybe that was why she hated him, Spain, Mexico, and most of the other former colonies in South America and the Caribbean. It all made sense now.
As Manuel was discovering this life changing revelation, Inez was contemplating the best way to get rid of him. Deciding it best to go with the tactic Brazil had taught her, she dropped-kicked him back from where he'd come from. Literally.
About Seven Miles off the Coast of Massachusetts
"Don't worry, she tells me, it's just an inside joke. No one's stupid enough to use a rowboat of all things," Timothy grumbled as he rowed. He and Eve had been in the wooden deathtrap for almost a day now and were both hating it, despite trading off who rowed when.
"Timothy, I'm gonna say this the nicest way I know how. Shut the frick up," Eve snarled at him, losing her last shred of patience. He was bugging her beyond all belief, and he was probably her best friend. It was probably a good thing it had been him as opposed to say, Collin, she had gotten stuck with, or she would have tossed him overboard a long time ago.
Nashville, Tennessee
France was in a very good mood when he pushed open the door to the bar and entered the hazy room. England had found America's address book, something the nations were rather surprised to learn he'd even owned, let alone used. Inside the address book had been the locations of each of his states, from Alabama to Wisconsin, and France had gotten placed in charge of collecting Tennessee. Her name was Annie and none of them had ever met her (that they could remember), so they'd figured she'd be an easy nab. Clearly they still had yet to learn from previous experiences.
The address he'd received and his own asking had led France to the bar he was currently in, where apparently this "Annie" worked. Something told him he was really going to like this girl. Sauntering over to the counter, he easily struck up a conversation with the female bartender behind it. It was from her that he learned Miss Annie worked as a singer. Little did he know that as soon as he turned away the bartender, whose name was Lola, sent one of the serving girls back to tell Annie someone was looking for her.
Power, Montana
Cody Jones jerked awake when the sirens of a nearby missile base and immediately went into Cold War mode. He had fallen asleep on his couch about an hour before, long enough for his black hair to collect enough static electricity to run York City, and apparently long enough for someone target the nearby military base.
Tumbling off the couch, he scrambled around, grabbing in shoes and emergency backpack, before whistling for Helena and scrambling out the door with the excitable Border collie on his heels. Once outside, he saw several middle-aged families doing the same as they quickly loaded up their cars with kids and emergency supplies before high-tailing it out of town.
During the 80's there had been a joke about how if you heard the sirens go off, run for the mountains. Cody hadn't forgotten, having known for quite some time if things went downhill he would be a target. Now it looked like that was about to happen.
Draper, Utah
Ida stepped off the TRAX and looked around as she tried to figure out where she was, as well as how far it was to Madison's house. Boise stirred restlessly inside of her messenger bag, poking his calico head out to look around, only to have it stuffed back in. It had been hard enough for Ida to sneak him onto the TRAX, and she was in no mood to chase the cat around Utah.
After studying a map for quite some time, Ida finally figured out which way was American Fork, where Madison's house was. Now the question was how she was going to cover the 50-ish mile difference between the two cities. Deciding hitchhiking wasn't an option, the blonde did what she was now kicking herself for not doing in the first place. She asked to borrow someone's cellphone and called her sister, asking the brunette to come pick her up.
Half an hour later, Madison's topless black jeep, lovingly dubbed the MAV (Mormon Assault Vehicle) rolled up next to where Ida was sitting. After boosting herself into the passenger seat, Ida raised an eyebrow at her older sister.
"That was fast," she commented.
Madison just grinned back and responded, "I drove."
Paintsville, Kentucky
Doctor McKinley looked up in surprise when Chief Brooks entered her autopsy lab looking like a man on a mission.
"Chief," she said as she tried to regain her composure, "What a surprise. I hate to say it, but I don't have any new leads on the case…"
"I know, Doc," Brooks said curtly, "That's not why I'm here."
"Okay," McKinley said slowly, sharing a confused look with her assistant, "Then why are you here?"
"I need to see the body that was fished out of the lake last week," he told her.
"John Doe? Why?" McKinley asked, now really confused, not that Brooks hadn't expected her to be. Doctor Aimee McKinley was from Chicago and hadn't felt the same jolt of recognition most members of the police department had experienced when they'd seen the almost completely decomposed body.
"I just do, Doc. It's important," Brooks practically begged. If his hunch was correct, it was important the body was taken out of cold storage.
Still confused but not willing to ask, McKinley set down her scalpel, leaving her assistant Jake to continue the autopsy they'd been working on while she went over the row of refrigerators cadavers were kept in. Finding the correct one, she turned the handle and opened the door before sliding out the metal table that held the unidentified body of an eighteen year old boy whose death had been a tick in McKinley's side ever since he had been brought to her lab.
"Tell me again what we know about him," Brooks asked. McKinley looked at him like he had completely lost it before humoring him and listing off the medical facts.
"Unidentified John Doe about sixteen years old, found in Lake Paintsville April 3rd of this year. Time and date of death unknown, but based on decomposition, around October of last year. 5 feet 7 inches, probably weighed about 130. Has multiple injuries, both old as well as new, though which one caused his death is unknown. There are multiple fractures in his skull, almost as if he made a pass time of bashing his head. Bone fractures suggest that he's broken his right arm several times, his left leg twice, his wrists, his collarbone, and three fingers. Four bullets were found lodged in his bones and other damage on his bones suggests they weren't the only bullets he's taken, though all were long before his time of death. One of the bullets belonged to a Civil War rifle, two to a World War One machine gun, and one to 60's hand gun. Calluses and general wear-and-tear on his right hand pointer finger suggests that he used a gun. A lot. Other evidence suggests he was a sharp shooter, possibly lied about his age and enlisted as a sniper if the dog tag chain found around his neck means anything. Another odd thing is that he has a tattoo of a star with a fifteen in the center on his inner right forearm."
McKinley finished her report and turned to Brooks expectantly, "Anything else?"
Brooks shook his head, "No, nothing you could help me with. Do you think that you and Jake could take five to go get something to eat? I need to check something on our John Doe."
McKinley hesitated, but nodded her consent before exciting the lab with Jake. Once they were gone Brooks looked at the body expectantly and whispered,
"Come on, you badger. I know you can't die, no matter what. It's been ten years since you disappeared and now you're needed. Don't disappoint now."
With that said, Brooks turned and walked out of the autopsy, purposely leaving the table pulled out. If he had but stayed a few more minutes though, he would have decomposed muscle and organs revive as they began regenerating and growing back again.
