Chapter 3: Lone Gunman

Thursday, November 21, 1963

The day before Kent's visit to Grassy Knoll, Adam arrived at Heather's apartment with his "overnight bag" - which contained essentials, and a silenced pistol.

John greeted him with a hug, his lanky frame surprisingly strong.

"Michael! Come in, come in. Heather's just finishing up a paper for her pathology class."

The apartment smelled of cooking vegetables and garlic.

John took the wine with a smile.

"Perfect! This will go great with the stew."

Heather emerged from the bedroom where her small workstation was located, her hair tied back, looking slightly frazzled but happy to see him.

"Hi!" she said brightly, coming over to give him a peck on the lips. "Glad you decided to stick around."

"Wouldn't want to miss John's stew," Adam chuckled.

The three spent the evening together, with John excitedly discussing their plans to see the President's motorcade the next day.

"We'll have the best view in the city," he said, unaware of the tragic irony. "Right from our own window."

Adam became increasingly withdrawn as the evening progressed.

"You seem distant tonight," Heather said, touching his arm. "Is everything okay?"

He almost confessed everything but instead kissed her, pulling her close.

John tensed up, a small smile appearing on his lips as he watched them making out passionately on the couch.

"I think our Michael likes you, Heather," John commented playfully, seeing Adam begin to undo his girlfriend's shirt buttons.

Heather giggled, shrugging her shirt off to reveal a red lacy bra that contrasted dramatically with her pale skin.

Adam wasted no time removing it, freeing her ample breasts that swayed gently as she straddled him.

John sat comfortably back, enjoying the show, lightly rubbing himself through his pants.

Heather teasingly removed Adam's belt, who then got up and pulled his pants off, allowing his erect penis to jump out from within.

Just as Heather started lowering herself toward him, Adam shook his head.

"No," he said as he leaned in and grabbed Heather by the upper arms, throwing her gently back onto the couch, before kneeling and tearing off her underwear. "Lay back."

John let out a soft grunt of appreciation.

"Very progressive," he chuckled, unbuckling his own belt and releasing his engorged member.

Heather gasped in shock and delight as Adam began licking her wet cunt. She arched her back, grabbing handfuls of his hair as he explored her with his tongue, inserting his fingers as he found her clitoris and began licking it furiously.

She let out a series of sharp gasps and cries, writhing uncontrollably as Adam drove her toward orgasm. Her entire body shuddered with pleasure as he brought her to a powerful climax, her juices flowing freely down his chin.

Adam paused for breath, gazing upon her flushed body before mounting her. She reached between them, guiding his cock into her waiting depths. They began to fuck furiously, desperately hungry for each other.

As he plunged deep inside her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his buttocks as he thrust frantically in and out.

Behind them, John jerked his pulsing shaft in his fist, matching the frantic rhythm of Adam's hips as he plunged in and out of Heather's slick pussy.

Finally, after a furious five minutes of fucking, Heather reached her second orgasm, screaming out as waves of intense pleasure swept over her body. This set Adam off, sending him into a bout of sexual delirium.

Pushing deep inside her, he groaned loudly, unleashing his pent-up load inside her, filling her womb with his thick semen. Any notion of pulling out was absent from both their minds.

John, watching this, grunted out his own release, spraying his cum all over himself.

As they all panted in exhaustion, Heather frowned as Adam began to thrust again, continuing to pound into her as his erection persisted.

His mind filled with the knowledge that, in only a day, this sweet, beautiful girl would be murdered by his hand. His passion knew no bounds, his guilt driving him to ravish her body with intense desire.

"Oh my god!" she gasped, amazed at his endurance. "Fuck!"

By the time Adam finally stopped pumping inside her, they were both utterly exhausted. Heather's entire body trembled with the aftermath of multiple orgasms. Adam's cock throbbed painfully within her, finally softening.

"I'm... spent," Adam groaned, rolling off Heather.

"Holy shit," Heather muttered, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"I've never seen anything like that," John said, stunned and impressed by the ferocity of Adam's lovemaking. "You... fucking animal!"

The three of them laughed, collapsing against each other on the sofa, drunk on the ecstasy of their shared passion.

Lying against Heather's lithe body, Adam could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Her bare skin was warm and moist with sweat, and her breath smelled faintly of alcohol and stew.

Adam closed his eyes, ignoring the lingering feelings of conflict in his soul.

His decision had been made. Either he betrayed his country and mission, or he betrayed two people who trusted him. The weight of this decision pressed down on him like a physical force, but the calculation seemed obvious.

***

In the early morning hours, while John and Heather slept, Adam sat alone by the window overlooking the future motorcade route below.

The street was empty now, but soon it would be filled with cheering crowds, police officers, and Secret Service agents.

He chuckled silently to himself, recalling the magazine articles comparing the strict, total security that surrounded Bolshevik First Secretaries, to the relatively lax arrangements made for American Presidents. Since the Last War the military had warned that presidential security should be made a priority.

And, funny enough, Adam thought, that might just happen after today.

Thinking of his wife and daughter, Adam removed his wedding ring and held it up to the moonlight, thinking about the vows he made to his wife and the oath he swore to his country. The gold band caught the light, gleaming softly in the darkness.

"Trevor," he whispered to his dead friend. "I'm doing what needs to be done."

As the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the city, Adam slipped his wedding ring back onto his finger and returned to bed, lying between John and Heather with cold determination in his heart.

***

Friday, November 22, 1963

After a few extra hours of sleep, Adam woke before John and Heather. He silently slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen, starting coffee and mentally reviewing his plan one final time.

When John and Heather emerged from the bedroom, they found him standing by the window, coffee cup in hand, gazing out at the street below where workers were setting up barriers.

"Morning," John said cheerfully. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," Adam replied. "Too excited about today, I guess."

"Glad you're still here," Heather declared, wrapping her hands around Adam's waist and kissing him on the shoulder.

He reached behind his back and playfully squeezed her butt, eliciting a squeal of delight.

"Coffee smells amazing," Heather chuckled as she hurriedly shuffled away to the kitchen.

Adam watched as the couple talked excitedly about seeing President Kent. John was animated, discussing which protest signs they should hold up as the motorcade passed.

"Nothing too provocative," Heather cautioned. "We don't want to get arrested for something he might not even see."

"Just 'Peace' and 'No War,'" John agreed. "Simple but effective."

Adam checked his watch repeatedly, knowing the motorcade would pass at precisely 12:30.

The hours seemed to crawl by as they ate breakfast, listened to the radio for updates on the President's movements, and prepared for what they believed would be a moment of peaceful protest.

Outside, the crowd began to gather along the parade route. Police officers took up their positions, and the excitement in the air was palpable even from three floors up.

"Look at all those people!" Heather exclaimed, peering out the window. "There must be thousands already. I think I even saw Santiago and little Diego down there near the entrance."

"And more are coming from all over," John added. "This is going to be incredible."

As noon approached, Adam excused himself to retrieve his "camera" from his bag.

"I want to document this historic moment," he explained as he grabbed his duffle bag from the closet and headed for the bathroom while John and Heather were distracted.

He quickly assembled his rifle with practiced efficiency, each piece clicking into place with satisfying precision. The weapon felt good in his hands, familiar and deadly. He checked the scope, ensured the ammunition was properly loaded, and prepared for the shot that he hoped would change the destructive course of his society.

When he emerged from the hall, he found John and Heather still discussing the growing crowd below.

"The police presence is heavier than I expected," John commented, frowning. "Must be at least one officer every twenty feet."

"It's not every day the President visits Grassy Knoll, I guess," Heather replied.

Adam watched them, remembering moments of genuine connection over the past weeks. John's passionate idealism, Heather's compassion and intelligence - in another life, under different circumstances, they might have been true friends.

But then he recalled the photographs of his family in his wallet and the intelligence about Bolshevik weapons shipments. He thought about Vice President Jones waiting to take control and restore America's military strength and resolve.

Adam knew none of this was no longer about personal feelings - it was about duty.

He checked his rifle one last time and placed it down out of view leaning against the hallway wall, before moving toward the unsuspecting couple with quiet, deliberate steps.

"Found for your camera?" Heather asked, turning to see him approaching. "We should get down there."

"Got it," Adam replied smoothly, indicating to his jacket.

John glanced at his watch as Heather turned again to look out the window: 12:20, ten minutes before the slow-moving motorcade was due.

"Should be any minute now. The radio said he's running right on schedule," John said.

The crowd below began to cheer distantly, indicating the motorcade's approach.

Adam's hand moved to the silenced pistol concealed beneath his jacket, his heart rate steady and controlled as he prepared to execute his plan.

"This is it," John said excitedly, completely unaware of the danger standing just behind him. "History in the making."

***

With only a moment's hesitation, Adam drew the handgun and shot John in the side of the head.

The sound was a muffled thump, nothing like the loud bang of an unsilenced weapon.

John crumpled immediately, a look of surprise frozen on his face as he fell to the floor.

Heather turned quickly to investigate the source of the wetness that had just sprayed across the side of her face, her bloodied expression transforming from confusion to horror as she first saw John's body and then the gun in Adam's hand.

"Michael, what..." she began.

Time slowed to a crawl for Adam, as he felt every beat of his heart, saw every muscle contraction on Heather's face, heard every slight movement in the room as if amplified a hundred times.

He paid attention to her face - a face that until mere seconds ago he had seen express only joy, friendship, and passion, but was now contorted in terror. Her bright green eyes reflected her utter disbelief at the sight of her slain boyfriend and the man she had brought home standing next to them, pointing a gun at her.

The sounds of distant cheering below drowned out the noise of the second silenced shot that blew a small hole into the center of Heather's chest, ending the question she was asking permanently.

She fell backward, her body hitting the low wall beneath the window before slumping to the ground. The girl coughed blood for a few seconds, her eyes looking around in bewilderment, before she went silent.

Blood began to spread across her light blue blouse, forming a dark, expanding circle.

Adam gulped, taking a deep breath as he looked at their bodies. Professional detachment, he reminded himself. He had completed the first part of his mission with clinical efficiency.

After moving the bodies out of the way, dragging them away from the window, Adam positioned himself at the window with his rifle. He set up quickly, establishing a stable firing position and adjusting the scope for distance and the slight crosswind.

The crowd below had grown larger and louder, their cheering indicating the approach of the presidential motorcade.

Adam could see police officers scanning the crowd, but none were looking up at the apartment windows. Why would they? The last time a president was assassinated was more than 60 years ago, and every other attempt was by someone who wanted to make a public statement with an audience.

At exactly 12:30, the presidential motorcade appeared, turning onto the main street with a police escort leading the way. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, with some protestors holding up their signs amid the general enthusiasm.

Through his scope, Adam could see President Kent clearly, waving to the crowds from the open-top car. The President was smiling, completely unaware that these were the final moments of his life. Beside him sat his black wife - miscegenation being just one of Kent's eccentricities.

Adam controlled his breathing, adjusted for wind, and squeezed the trigger with professional precision.

The rifle kicked against his shoulder as the shot was fired. Through his scope, he watched as the President's head jerked violently backward, a spray of red misting the air behind him.

The President's wife immediately reached for her husband as the driver accelerated, but Adam knew it was all in vain. The shot was perfect - a clean hit to the head that no one could survive.

Chaos erupted instantly on the street below. People screamed and ran in all directions, police officers sprinted toward the motorcade, and the presidential vehicle sped away.

Adam quickly placed the rifle in John's hands, pressing the dead man's fingers against the metal to leave clear fingerprints. Then, with mechanical efficiency, he arranged the bodies - John slumped over the rifle, Heather collapsed nearby - creating the scene of a murder-suicide. He removed the pistol's silencer and placed the firearm in John's right hand, curling the dead man's finger around the trigger.

He worked methodically, his movements precise despite the pandemonium unfolding outside.

As Adam surveys the scene one last time, ensuring nothing was out of place, he took a final look at Heather's body, remembering the intimacy they had shared.

Fueled by the adrenaline of what he had just done, he felt his cock swelling in his pants, pressing hard against the fabric. But he had no time to...

Suddenly, the door behind him burst open.

"Coño!" Ana shouted as she stormed in, the momentum of the forceful opening of the door ensuring that it slammed closed behind her. "Did you guys just see..."

Adam reacted instantly, ducking into the hallway, out of sight.

Before the Latina girl could finish her sentence, her mouth dropped open, and she froze, her wide eyes fixating on the scene of carnage before her.

"J-John... Heather?" Ana stammered, confused. "W-what happened...?"

She took a tentative step forward, reaching her shaking hand out to touch John's motionless form.

"A-are they... are you okay, John?" Ana asked fearfully, her voice trembling as she knelt next to him, nudging his lifeless form.

Adam quietly crept out of the hallway behind the girl and picked up a decorative ceramic bowl from the kitchen counter that overlooks the living room, and moved silently toward the girl, still oblivious to the imminent threat behind her.

Just as Ana started to rise to her feet, Adam smashed the bowl into the back of her head, rendering her unconscious immediately.

Her limp form collapsed in front of him, landing on the carpet. Some blood trickled down her long hair from the blow.

Breathing heavily, he briefly considered just shooting her dead. But he stopped himself, careful to not allow the situation to unravel. Besides, she's a kid. Not worth dirtying his conscience any further.

Adam carried Ana's inert form to the bedroom, laying her on the bed, before returning to the living room and checking to ensure everything was as it should be.

He sat down on the couch, taking a deep breath and trying to clear his mind.

"Shit," he said quietly as he slowly opened his eyes. Ana had seen both John and Heather's corpses before she got knocked out. She was going to tell the cops that someone else did this. Fuck!

Forcing himself to calm down, Adam carefully reviewed his options. Killing Ana wouldn't be difficult... but he couldn't afford having truly innocent blood on his hands, despite the girl's developing anti-American sympathies.

He shook his head.

"Richardson is going to have my ass for this," he whispered to himself as he got up. This was above his paygrade: the Army would know what to do with her. He just needed to figure out how to get the girl out of the building without drawing attention.

He sighed as he made his way back to the bedroom, opening the door slowly.

Adam stepped into the room and froze, blinking in surprise.

The bed was empty, with just the slightest hint of blood staining the pillow where the girl's head had rested.

Just before panic set in, Adam heard something shift behind him. He tensed, turning around just in time to see a blurry form lunge at him.

"Aaaaargggghhh!" Ana screamed, jamming a pencil directly into Adam's left eyeball, penetrating his cornea.

His world exploded into blinding white light as hot needles of agony shot through his skull.

Instinctively, his hands flew up to clutch at his eye, which he realized was now blinded.

Blood poured down his face as Ana pushed herself away from him.

With his free hand, Adam reached out for her, managing to grab onto her dress. But momentum carried her onward, ripping the dress clean off her body, leaving her naked except for her sandals.

Ana fell over onto the carpeted floor, gasping in shock.

Forcing his uninjured eye open, Adam spotted Ana crawling toward the hallway, her slim body illuminated by the glow of daylight streaming in through the window.

His vision swam, blurry and unfocused.

Leveraging his superior strength, Adam rose to his feet and lunged forward, just as Ana managed to bring herself upright.

Adam fell short, missing her ankles by an inch, landing painfully onto the carpet.

Ana staggered down the hallway, leaning against the walls to steady herself. Adrenaline carried her forward.

Adam rolled onto his back, gritting his teeth as waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He fought against the urge to vomit, focusing instead on his training.

He took a deep breath before forcing his aching limbs to comply with his mental commands. After several agonizing seconds, he got up and stumbled after Ana, making it to the end of the hallway just to see the front door close again.

Gritting his teeth, he made for the door.

He threw open the door and ran after Ana, stumbling into the corridor.

Looking in both directions, he saw the naked Latina limping rapidly toward the stairs at the far end of the hall.

"Help!" Ana screamed. "Somebody help me!!"

With blood flowing freely down his face, Adam chased after her, closing the gap with every stride.

Most people who lived in the apartment building were either out to see the President, at work at this hour, or standing at their open windows, watching the madness unfold below.

But with his luck seemingly bottomed out, he feared that a witness would appear at any moment.

Ana descended the stairs recklessly, tripping and falling forward onto her stomach, tumbling down the remaining steps to land in a heap at the foot of the stairway.

Dazed and hurt, she slowly lifted her head up, searching frantically for anyone to aid her.

Moments later, and far sooner than she had expected him to catch up with her, Ana felt a hand roughly grab a handful of her long black hair and jerk her upward, eliciting a cry of pain from her.

Without ceremony or pretense, Adam pulled the nude teenaged girl along, kicking and screaming, back up the flight of stairs and into the third-floor hallway, retracing his bloody path.

He dragged her by the hair until they reached the threshold of the apartment, before tossing her unceremoniously back inside.

She landed heavily on the wooden floorboards, bouncing and rolling awkwardly, coming to rest face down, panting heavily and completely spent.

Adam closed the door and locked it, not bothering to wipe the blood from his face. The pencil still stuck out of his eye prominently.

Turning to look at the defenseless girl lying before him, he felt a surge of fresh energy. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, fueling his rage.

Something new was awakening inside him. Something he had never felt or experienced before.

His dick twitched, despite the pain.

"Your father is a patriot," Adam snarled, advancing on the terrified girl. "He brought you to this country because he cared about his family, about freedom. And you repay him by becoming a filthy fucking red rat!"

The household threat to Santiago Rivera's sensible anti-Bolshevism ends now, Adam decided. After discovering that John Baynes raped and killed his daughter, he would banish all thoughts he had of embracing his cuntlet's misguided new worldview.

"Don't hurt me!" she pleaded tearfully, instinctively curling up into a defensive ball. "Por favor!"

Adam laughed, tasting the blood from his eye on his tongue. He reached for his pants and swiftly undid them, letting it fall to his feet. His cock hardened as he did likewise with his underpants.

"Seems a bit late for that!" he grinned savagely, looming over Ana. "And you did hurt me... very badly..."

He leaned forward and grabbed Ana's arm with his bloodied hand, pulling her up walking her to the couch. He threw her down and set upon her.

With Ana trapped in his iron grip, Adam slid his hand down her leg.

She gasped.

"M-Michael," she moaned, twisting to try to escape his grasp. "Stop!"

Ana yelped as his fingers roughly exploring her smooth labia, feeling her secret spot underneath the thin layer of pubic hair.

"Please!" she pleaded as Adam's middle finger slid deep inside her tight entrance, finding her hymen intact. "Don't!"

Adam continued probing, locating her tiny clit, enjoying her cries of alarm. He pushed harder against Ana's weak attempts to fight him off, feeling her tender flesh yielding to his penetration.

Her protests turned to whimpers of agony as his rough handling forced his finger through her hymen, inflicting pain unlike anything she had ever experienced.

The desperate girl writhed helplessly in Adam's embrace, unable to break free as blood trickled from her violated vagina.

"Nnnnn!" she sobbed, fighting desperately to free herself from his grip.

He quickly grabbed the small body and turned her around, leaning down onto her in a spoon position.

Without saying another word, Adam slowly shifted his hips, positioning the tip of his cock between her ass cheeks.

When Ana realized what he was doing, she renewed her efforts to resist, kicking her legs as she tried to buck him off.

"No! Stop!" she screamed, her eyes widening with terror. "Don't!"

But she was powerless to prevent the inevitable, and soon her struggles ceased as she succumbed to despair.

Adam grunted, forcing himself deeper, penetrating Ana's virgin asshole with brutal savagery. Blood spilled freely from his face onto the girl's shoulders.

She wailed in pain, crying hysterically as the full length of Adam's rigid member tore through her delicate tissues.

"You think, ugh, this hurts?" he grunted. "Try getting, ugh, stabbed in the face!"

With his other hand still working away at her slit, he felt a rush of warm liquid gushing forth onto his fingers as she lost control of her bladder.

He continued pushing deeper into her, grunting with effort.

Finally, his hips met Ana's rear end, his swollen cock fully embedded in her violated rectum.

He gasped a bit. This was unreal. The feeling of being buried entirely inside a 13 year old girl, was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He breathed deeply. His balls were already starting to tingle.

Adam sighed as he brought his wet hand up from Ana's pussy and wrapped it around her neck, choking her just enough to produce a gag reflex. This action caused Ana to involuntarily flex her muscles, squeezing Adam's cock tightly.

"Oooooh yeah," he hissed, thrusting gently. "That's it, baby."

Ana responded by attempting to move away from him, but she didn't succeed because of his hold on her neck and legs.

After several moments, Adam increased his pace, withdrawing his penis a quarter of the way before slamming back in hard.

Ana let out a muted scream of pain and disgust as blood trickled freely from her torn ass, pooling on the couch below her.

The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin as Adam intensified his assault.

"Unghh, fuuuuck," he groaned, as he slowly pulled himself out of the girl. "Your ass is so tight..."

She moaned in protest as he again grabbed onto her hips and flipped her onto her back, spreading her knees apart with ease.

"Fucking whore…" Adam growled, positioning himself between her parted thighs.

Ana screwed her eyes shut, bracing for the searing pain she knew was coming.

Gritting his teeth, he looked to the coffee table beside them and spotted Heather's coffee mug from earlier, with the spoon still resting inside.

"Well," he grunted, nestling his cockhead just inside her slit. "If you won't use them..."

Before Ana could comprehend his meaning, he snatched the spoon from the mug and viciously plunged its handle into her left lacrimal caruncle - the small nodule located between the eye and nose - and yanking it violently sideways.

Ana cried out sharply in shock as her eyeball was destroyed. The pain distracted her entirely from Adam's entry into her cunt.

"Ahh!" she howled, clawing at his face.

She managed to grab a hold of the pencil and pull it out.

"Ouch!" he yelped as a spray of blood shout out of his eye and landed on Ana's face, mixing with hers. "Fucking cunt!"

Adam brushed her flailing hands aside before pulling the flipped spoon out, raising it high above his head, and driving it back downward with savage force.

For a slit second, Ana felt pressure on her face, before the spoon handle tore through her eye socket and stabbed into her brain.

She released an animalistic grunt, releasing another, smaller stream of urine, followed by arching her back involuntarily as she convulsed into her death throes.

Adam rode out the girl's spasms, leaving the spoon embedded in her, as he fucked her dying body with unrestrained brutality, reveling in the sensation of his cock plunging in and out of the now-lifeless pussy.

He did not seek to prolong the experience, nor did he wish to risk another interruption. So he pumped hard and fast, enjoying the thrill of pumping his seed deep into Ana's limp body as she lay sprawled beneath him.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips as spurts of cum flooded her lifeless womb.

Not wasting any time to bask in post-coital bliss, Adam withdrew his member from her slackened depths and hurried to the bathroom.

He cleaned himself up, carefully bandaging up his eye, and framed the scene how he wanted. Then he collected his things and he left the apartment, taking care to wipe up the worst of the blood stains in the corridor.

With piercing pain enveloping his face, Adam was nonetheless satisfied that the circumstances of President Kent's death told a compelling enough story that the truth of the matter would be unimaginable to the investigators:

John Baynes, a radical leftist and leader of the Bolshevik Friendship Society, shot the President, killed his own girlfriend, raped an innocent neighbor girl who stumbled upon him during the deed, and then committed suicide. The evidence was there: the rifle with John's prints, the Bolshevik paraphernalia in the apartment, and John's known anti-government views.

While Adam had read about the future potential of DNA testing, nothing of the sort was available to law enforcement yet.

Satisfied with his work, Adam calmly walked out of the building amid the growing pandemonium, just another shocked citizen fleeing the scene. No one paid attention to him as he merged with the crowd that was by now starting to calm, his injured face a perfect mask of confusion and fear among the witnesses to one of the most shocking events in history.

***

Three days later, Adam sat with his family watching Vice President - now President - Larry B. Jones address the nation.

Jones, a stocky man with a square jaw and commanding presence, spoke gravely about "Bolshevik infiltration" and "standing strong against threats to our national interest."

"My fellow Americans..." Jones said, his voice somber yet resolute. "... the tragic events in Grassy Knoll have revealed the extent to which Bolshevik agents have infiltrated our society. The assassin, John Baynes, was in direct contact with foreign powers hostile to our way of life. Let me be clear: America will not bow to intimidation. Today, I am announcing increased military spending and a new hard line stance against those who stand against freedom."

Madelyn commented on how terrible the assassination was.

"To think it was one of those college radicals," she remarked. "What's the world coming to?"

"Some people are just twisted inside," Adam said neutrally, bouncing his daughter on his knee.

Mary giggled, completely unaware of the historical events unfolding around her.

"I can't believe you're leaving again soon," Madelyn said, placing her hand under his chin and turning his head to face her. She gently rubbed the thick bandages the doctors at Grassy Knoll Army Depot had put over the left side of his face. "Especially with this…"

As far as Madelyn was concerned, in the excitement when the troops heard about the assassination, Adam was accidentally struck hard in the face by the barrel of an overexcited private's rifle.

"This is nothing," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You'll love being married to a handsome pirate!"

She chuckled, shaking her head and poking him on the shoulder.

"Besides, I'm only leaving in two months," he said, looking back at his daughter. "President Jones isn't wasting time on the deployments to 'Nam."

Madelyn pouted, before running her hand through Mary's hair.

"At least we'll have some time together," she said. "Even if it's just in Laurel Valley..."

***

A few days later, Adam received his detailed orders.

In five weeks, he will be deployed among the first cohort in 'Nam, specifically West 'Nam.

Or, to give America's allies the respect they deserve: the Republic of Nguyễnam, caught in a brutal civil war with the Bolshevik-aligned East Nguyễnam, or the Nguyễnam People's Republic.

With American advisors still on the ground, full-scale military commitment was now a foregone conclusion.

Adam also received a confidential commendation for "special services to national security" from Colonel Richardson. No explicit mention was made of his actions in Grassy Knoll, of course.

"The country owes you a debt it can never acknowledge, Lieutenant," Richardson said quietly after pinning the medal to Adam's uniform in a private ceremony.

"I was just doing my duty, sir," Adam replied, standing at attention.

"Some duties are heavier than others," Richardson acknowledged. "But remember, what you've done will save countless American lives."

At night, however, Adam frequently woke from nightmares featuring Heather and John's faces.

In these dreams, they looked at him with bewildered expressions, asking why they had to die when their only crime was idealism.

Adam told himself repeatedly that he did what was necessary for his country and his family's future.

"They were traitors," he whispered to himself in the darkness. "They made their choice."

And Ana Rivera took his fucking eye. She got exactly what she deserved. Oddly enough, this thought brought him peace… and another feeling that he was only just beginning to understand about his new self.

***

Epilogue​

Adam and Madelyn returned to Laurel Valley, their hometown not far from Fort Keith, for some R&R.

He took Mary to the park where he had spent much of his childhood. It was a crisp December day, and his daughter was bundled up against the cold in a red coat and mittens.

His sensitive left eye socket, now covered by a black leather patch, reacted negatively to the piercing cold.

"Push me, Daddy!" she demanded, running toward the swings.

Adam chuckled, following briskly until he was finally gently pushing Mary on the swing.

"Hi," he heard someone say.

He looked and saw a pudgy woman, around his age, standing next to him with a warm smile, just starting to push a girl on the swing next to Mary's.

The two girls were already giggling together.

"Hi there," he said, pushing Mary again, before looking at the woman's daughter. "Cute kid!"

"Thank you," she chuckled, pushing the girl. "We just moved into the neighborhood. Getting to know the best places to take her, ya know?"

Adam nodded, and extended his hand to her.

"I live on the base, but I love bringing Mary here," he said. "Great neighborhood to raise a family. Name's Adam. Adam Hotchkin."

The woman smiled, shaking Adam's hand.

"I thought so too... a really welcoming area," she said, looking at her girl. "My firecracker here is Stephanie!"

The girl chuckled at her mother's description.

"I'm Lauren," she said, retrieving her hand and putting it back inside her warm overcoat. "Lauren Pierce."

Adam smiled, as he and Lauren watched the girls jump off the swings and run around, chasing after each other.

Watching them running freely, Adam felt satisfied.

They are safe in an America whose future seemed brighter under new leadership. He thought briefly of the lives he took, but reminded himself of the greater purpose they served.

"They're gonna be friends," Lauren said, chuckling. "I can see it already."

"The world will be their oyster!" he replied, smiling brightly, before motioning to a bench behind them, where they took their seats and engaged in idle chatter.

Next to them, a newspaper stand displayed headlines about President Jones ordering a naval blockade of the Sunset Isle, the first step in a new, more aggressive foreign policy that Adam helped create with four pulls of a trigger on that fateful day in Grassy Knoll.

THE END