Thriller
The War of the Americas - Chapter I
When Sylvia saw the look of distress etched across the narrow lines of her husbands face as he turned from his phone to gaze up at her, she immediately knew the next words to come out of his mouth were not going to be good. "Shit babe, I can't believe it. I can't fucking believe it. That son of a bitch, actually fucking did it, fuck, fuck, fuck. We are screwed here Syl, Trump just bombed Tijuana." Sylvia's heart dropped in her chest. It took her a few seconds to process what she had heard, stunned was the understatement of the century. "Shit Dom, are you sure? Are you certain? What's the source? Maybe it's a mistake, or propaganda?" "It's no mistake hon I have video footage right here. I am looking at it right now." Dom, spoke more gently now after hearing the fear in his wife's voice. He was scared too, very scared, but when Sylvia got scared, he got terrified, because it took a lot to shake her, and this news clearly had. He beckoned her over to sit beside him, and she moved quickly to his side putting one arm around his neck and over his shoulder using him like a swing to maneuver herself into her seat next to him. The warmth and love between them was evident in that moment revealed in the comfortableness of their physical interactions even in such highly stressful circumstances. She stared at the screen of the phone Dom had placed between them and saw smoke clouds rising above the border wall near San Ysidro crossing, the largest and busiest land border crossing in the world connecting the countries of Mexico and the United States just south of San Diego, California. Formerly largest, given what had just happened, Dom thought to himself. Additional footage showed the remains of the crossing itself which had been reduced to rubble and ash along both the Mexican and US sides of the border. The screams of the dead and dying could be heard above the wail of sirens. Mercifully, the strike must have happened in the middle of the night, probably between 2am and 4am local time. That was when the San Ysdiro crossing was slowest, but slow for a place like San Ysdiro still meant potentially hundreds to thousands of border crossers both on foot and by car, not to mention the hundreds of US and Mexican border agents working both sides of the crossing. What about the US CBP agents? she wondered. Had they been tipped off about the strike and evacuated? Likely that would have sent alarm bells ringing along the Mexican side so sadly she guessed, correctly it turned out, that they had not been informed, and instead had been deemed acceptable losses for the greater good. President Trump would call them war heroes for their sacrifice, but a sacrifice made without any choice, is no sacrifice at all she thought. It would also later be revealed that Trump had wanted to strike at the height of rush hour to maximize the impact, but had been talked out of it by his Generals who wisely counseled that the loss of innocent American lives would be so high it might lead to mass defections among the troops and possible insurrection in the military itself. Fortunately, Sylvia knew nothing of this at the time, and, as upset as she was by those thoughts, she also knew that the loss of a few hundred border patrol agents could be nothing more than an footnote in a war that might cost tens, or hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives should things spiral out of control.
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