Walter Beale’s physical pain was immense, but nothing compared to the agony of disappointment. After waking up, the brutal thugs explained in detail what happened between punches to the face, stomach, and groin. Instead of shooting President Phillips, he shot his wife Janice who snuck up behind him hitting him with a cast iron skillet, crushing his face. He heard his shot shattered her left femur and they had to amputate her leg above the knee. That helped take some of the edge off his disappointment.

He was also pleased that his action had spread like wildfire, with rumors growing by the minute. One of his guards let it slip that most people thought he had killed Reggie Phillips and it was only with great difficulty they informed people of their leader’s safety. Walter Beale’s name was famous regardless, he thought with a hint of satisfaction.

Walter was now in a small grey room without windows, shadows from the lantern dancing on the walls. Two men stood silently nearby. After the beatings, he thought they would torture or kill him, but instead they transported him to the LBL park, an area he knew well. The bunk he had slept on for over a month was less than a hundred feet from where he sat now.

The door opened abruptly and in walked a stocky man filled with purpose and energy. Colonel Nathan Taylor himself, thought Walter. The man stood for a moment regarding Walter.

“Leave us,” he said to the two guards.

“But, sir…” began one.

“It’s okay,” said Nathan softly. “Go.”

The two men walked out of the room closing the door behind them. Somehow the shadows became even more menacing.

“I suppose you want some time with me yourself,” said Walter with a smile.

Nathan smiled in return, “You have no idea.”

Walter closed his eyes and resigned himself to the beating, but after several moments none came and he opened his eyes to see Colonel Taylor still staring at him silently.

“What do you want?” asked Walter confused.

“How could you have failed?” he asked shaking his head. “You had the perfect opportunity. You were five feet from him. We may never get that good a chance again.”

Walter was stunned, his eyes wide.

Nathan grimaced. “Do you know how long we have waited for someone like you? Someone with the courage and conviction to do what needed to be done? We may be doomed now.”

“Why?” asked Walter.

“Because the WTR probably assumes you were successful,” explained Nathan. “Their actions depend on attacking after the JP is confused and chaotic. Bloodshed would be minimized. They could liberate us without destroying us. Now there will be much death on both sides. The opportunity may be lost.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Walter, “they’ll come regardless.”

“Yes!” said Colonel Taylor intently, “But we could help them! We could rise up!” His voice grew soft, “We could even finish what you started.”

“What are you saying?” asked Walter suspicious.

“Ops Populus. Power to the people,” said Nathan. “That’s what I’m talking about, you’re not alone in this brother, but I need your help.”

“How can I help you? I’m finished,” moaned Walter.

Nathan placed Walter’s backpack on the table and pulled out the satellite phone. “Tell me who to contact and what to tell them. Let me tell them there is still a chance. You can still be successful, let me help you.”

“You don’t need my help to kill Reggie Phillips,” said Walter.

“No,” answered Nathan, “but we need your help to saves lives and prevent needless misery. If the WTR will just give us a little more time to take out that tyrant, we can peacefully resolve this. We could unite and everything will be okay. You will have made possible the birth of a new nation. Your name will be remembered forever.”

Walter was silent thinking, “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” he answered. “But you have so little to lose now and so much to gain. Please…for all of our sakes, help me,” pleaded Colonel Taylor. “We don’t have much time.”

Walter was silent for so long that Nathan thought everything had failed. “His name is Gabriel,” he finally said.

“Gabriel?” asked Nathan. “Who is he?”

“I don’t really know exactly,” said Walter, “but he found me and showed me my destiny.”

“How did you know when the right time was?”

Walter nodded at the table, “The phone. I checked it every night I could. The code came a few weeks ago after the electricity went out. ‘Ops Populus’ was the message.”

“Are their others like you here?” asked Nathan.

“Not that I know of,” answered Walter. “Gabriel told me I was unique and everything depended on me.”

“Were you supposed to send a message back letting him know if you were successful or not?”

“Yes,” said Walter smiling. “’Brutus’ was the code for success, ‘Hinckley’ for failure.”

“What is his number?” asked Nathan. “The call records have all been erased.”

Walter hesitated. “Gabriel insisted on it. He said the number was only for me, made me memorize it.”

“I need it, Walter,” said Nathan. “We don’t have much time. You have to trust me.”

The bloody and broken man sat still for a moment and then let out a deep breath. “881-734-0365.”

Nathan reached out and grasped Walter’s shackled hand compassionately, “Thank you.” He then stood up and opened the door allowing the two guards back in. He was almost gone when one of the guards called after him.

“Sir, what are we to do with him?”

Nathan turned back, his mask gone, fury pouring out of his eyes, “Hang him! Hang that cowardly bastard right now!”