Suzanne sat in her office rubbing her temples with an immense pressure, the skin becoming more irritated with each rotation of her thumbs.

She was an event manager for a hotel in Remdia. She was mostly in charge of weddings, which in themselves were a nightmare. Yet, somehow Suzanne’s current stress wasn’t born of bridezillas and incorrect flower arrangements.

All her present nightmares revolved around her phone. More specifically a person she was trying to contact on her phone. She refreshed social media pages, redialed their number and even attempted to contact their place of work and friends. All of which turned out to be dead ends.

Suzanne was slowly starting to wither and deteriorate as the road maps in her mind drew unwanted conclusions.

She assumed her longtime friend and ex-coworker, Gabe, was dead. The back of her skull throbbed with the undeniable possibility that he had died in the war. However, without tangible proof, Suzanne wasn’t the type to give up on her friends.

Even with the news reports and death tolls rising, she didn’t stop manically dragging down the screen with his name and image plastered on it and staring at the monotonous gray wheel loading the page. Time and time again.

Gabriel Davidson. She read those two simple words in her mind for the twelfth time that hour. Memories of meeting him in university and hearing his posh accent when he introduced herself to him flooded back to her.

Helplessly, she screamed. Then, she stood up and dragged her arm across her desk, scattering papers and pens across the entire office, like a tornado of office supplies caught up in the storm of her emotions.

Her phone landed face down on the hardwood floor with a sinister snap. Suzanne raced to it, flipping it over with haste. There was a crack, but it was still operational.

She gulped and refreshed the page once more.

Her office door slammed open revealing her best friend, Mel, wielding a three-ring binder like a weapon.

“Ahhhhh!” The new woman screamed upon entering the disorderly room. She scanned the room, searching for a threat that didn’t exist. Eventually, she lowered her eyes to the floor and saw Suzanne kneeling amidst the chaos clutching onto her phone like it was her life source.

“Oh, sweetie,” the newcomer cooed. “Let’s get you up and dusted off, shall we?”

The woman dropped her makeshift weapon and approached her friend. She pulled delicately on Suzanne’s elbows in an attempt to get her standing.

Suzanne swayed a bit on her feet, but her friend was there to steady her. Mel pushed some hair out of her eyes and spoke with a gentle voice. “He still hasn’t responded, I take it?”

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Suzanne shook her head causing a build up of tears to fall. “No,” she whimpered.

“You don’t know that it means he’s gone, love. He could have lost his phone or left it behind in the evacuation.”

Suzanne sighed, “I’ve been trying to convince myself of the same thing, but no one, Mel, no one, has heard from him.” She shook her head more firmly, “That’s not like him.”

“I understand, but these are trying times. I hope there’s a reasonable explanation, but no need to panic until you know for sure, Suz.” Mel tried to console her.

“Ha,” Suzanne chuckled sardonically. “The death count has been rising exponentially since yesterday. You think they are truly going to identify everyone before I give myself a heart attack?”

“Suz, you gotta calm down. This was a defensive measure, not one to scoff at,” Mel remarked sternly.

“Mel, please don’t tell me you’re buying all that bullshit the internet is feeding you. It’s a fucking politicians’ pissing match and my friend may be fucking dead now because of it!” Suzanne lashed out at Mel, her sadness being overcome by rage. “I mean, are you fucking kidding me? One day relations with Caledorn are tip top, then poof. We’re invading because they threatened us? Where’s the threat?”

Mel took a step back from her friend, “I get that you’re upset, but-”

“Upset?” Suzanne interrupted. “Is that what you think I am? I’m irate. I’m stressed. I’m fucking livid and trying to keep myself from imploding. Upset hardly covers it, Mel.”

“Okay…” Mel tried to regain some composure from the turning tables in the office. “You’re more than upset, but we aren’t in the president’s pocket. We have no clue what the actual threat was. But don’t you have a little more faith in our government than that?”

“Honestly?” Suzanne asked.

“Always,” Mel responded without hesitation.

“No. No, I don't have faith in our government. Look at any news report from Caledorn. They are dying and have no idea why.”

Mel scoffed, “Oh, please. And you think those new reports are any less biased? Of course, they are going to play the victim card. Why wouldn’t they? Other countries will support them that way.”

Suzanne stared at her friend, studying her tense and hostile features. For the first time in their friendship, Suzanne questioned what she saw in Mel. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, one that meant business and reflected her “no-bullshit” attitude. Her pant-suit was sans wrinkles, forcing those who saw her to think “perfection.” She differed from Suzanne in every way.

“Get out,” the words felt foreign and unnatural as Suzanne said them. Though her heart blazed with pride at the same time.

“What?” Mel asked, dumbfounded.

“Get the fuck out, Mel,” Suzanne stepped closer to her friend, an unmistakable intimidation present in her actions.

Mel scoffed again. “Fine, fuck you, Suz. Don’t come to me with your next panic attack,” she spat the words and made her way to the exit.

Suzanne watched her go, relaxing her shoulders when the door once again barricaded her from the outside world.

With her mind reminiscent of a ping-pong ball, bouncing around from idea to idea, she grabbed her phone.

She dialed a number and waited.

“General Miller’s office, how can I assist you?” a secretary answered.

“Hi, can you please tell General Miller his daughter wants to speak to him,” Suzanne seethed with sarcastic niceties.

“Oh. Oh, of course. May I ask what this is about Miss. Miller?”

“He’ll know,” Suzanne replied and waited for her father to pick up the phone. She had some questions that needed to be answered. She was so desperate she was even willing to call her sperm donor for the answers.