Nation of Enemies by H.A. Raynes Page A

are getting close, moving up the slope of the Boston Common. Clapping along with the music, the crowd makes way for them, creating a path to the State House steps. They think it’s all part of today’s event, she realizes. They’re wearing long-­sleeved T-­shirts with an American flag on the chest and carry what look like a child’s magic wand in varying colors. They toss the sparkling props skillfully into the air.
    The crowd has become a blockade for law enforcement. Police officers shout at them but no one seems to notice. Farther away in the Common, Secret Ser­vice moves in on a few of the masked ­people. Kate overhears an e-­COM exchange. “Closing in on three of them. They’re carrying something. Unclear if it’s a weapon. I have a clear shot.” The Secret Ser­vice and police surrounding the podium grip their holstered guns.
    As the performers near the end of the song—­“And the star-­spangled banner in triumph shall wave” —­ they cross Beacon Street and begin to ascend the State House steps. They’re too close now. The Secret Ser­vice agents who flank Gardiner and Hensley grab the candidates’ arms, readying for evacuation. All the other officers pull their weapons.
    â€œO’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!” The audience erupts in applause. A text buzzes Kate. It’s Sebastian. Here now. Only 5k ­people stand btw us. Coming! She begins to text him back, her fingers working furiously.
    A shot pierces the air. Screams. More shots. Kate drops her phone, searches the crowd. Several hundred feet away in the Common ­people scramble and sprint toward the exits.
    â€œSebastian,” she whispers.
    The masked performers charge up the steps. Everyone with a gun aims at them. Secret Ser­vice walls off the candidates and rushes them toward the State House entrance. Kate takes a step in their direction. Shots ring in her ear. A wet mist lands on her arm. Then more—­on her dress, in her hair. What’s happening? The performers aim their wands, pumping one end as a clear aerosol sprays out the other end. She glances up the stairs, finds the senators and their guards just as three performers pump the wands, sending a mist over the group. Richard Hensley ducks, pulls an agent on top of him to block the liquid. Officers shoot the attackers, who hesitate but don’t fall. They must be wearing ballistics skins. Finally, someone shoots all three of them in the head and they collapse.
    But it’s too late. The agents grip their throats, crumble onto the stairs. Kate watches James Gardiner pressing his hands to his chest. Wheezing sounds all around make her heart pound. Her nose begins to run and she wipes it with the back of her hand. The last few masked performers empty their wands and walk away.
    The scream of thousands is piercing. ­People run, push, crash against one another. Kate’s legs give way and her body slams into the cement stairs. In her vision, a blur of sandals, flip-­flops, sneakers, dress shoes. A sharp pain in her stomach seizes her and she vomits violently. With great effort she opens her eyes. There are no clear shapes, only a haze of colors. She lies splayed across the sharp edges of the steps, unable to move her arms and legs. The drumming of soles finally stops. She blinks, focuses. Everyone left on the stairs is like her, fallen, unmoving.
    Help! In her head her voice is thunderous. Her eyes close and with the darkness comes quiet. Her throat burns. She opens her mouth wide to take in air, but there’s only a desperate rasping sound. Is that me? Help! Sebastian . . . She opens her eyes and gazes past the bodies to the park. Everyone is running. Lying a ­couple feet away, her phone vibrates with a text. She strains to grab it but it’s just out of reach. With her final ounce of energy she lifts her head and squints to see clearly. She can’t