Operation Red Herring (Countryhumans Alternate History)

Chapter 3

America was never one to worry. Even as a young, rebelling country, with very little in funds and experience, she had a way of just knowing things would work out. Well, she never exactly knew. It was more a sense of believing in something so much that it becomes a fact, unwavering and unquestionable. Yes, manifesting had always been America's first instinct. When funds were tight, and her people doubted her, the one thing that kept her afloat was her sheer belief that she could survive whatever the world decided to chuck at her. Granted, it was rarely a pretty sight. Scars and crimson memories of bayonets and severed limbs were enough proof that she rarely came out unscathed. Yet, she always survived.

This was a bit of a problem on certain occasions. She always had an issue detecting threats that weren't obvious. Whether it be when others would jab at her in conversation, or in more serious matters, such as South Carolina's threats to leave the union back in the 1800's, the fact that she was in danger always seemed to click a few seconds too late. America didn't consider herself to be stupid by any means. Afterall, she had essentially built the model of democracy that most of the world now followed. Not to mention, being the first collection of colonies to break away from the United Kingdom wasn't anything to sneeze at. No, if she had to describe this little flaw of her's, she would call it simply being too trusting. Once someone had her trust, she rarely questioned their intentions until it was too late.

So, when Great Britain had uttered that slightly ominous phrase, 'you'll regret this', America had barely given it a second thought. Afterall, Britain and herself had been allies throughout the Great War, and were still on good terms. Even in the current war, though she was technically neutral, almost everyone knew which side of the war she wanted to win. She had concluded that it was simply an attempt to scare her into action, and went about her day. The striped woman had bought a Coca-Cola, and had spent the rest of the day in Baltimore, mainly wandering near the bay.

During the weeks that had followed, Britain hadn't contacted her at all. She took this as him simply being upset that she refused his request. Nothing to worry about, as he always seemed upset over something these days, whether it be her inaction or the destruction of London. So, she stayed content in the isolation that being one of only three countries on a continent brought her. America allowed her industry to flourish, turning out weapons of war at a pace that kept money coming in. It was a nice change of pace from the desolate days of the decade prior, in which most days were spent hungry and too exhausted to do much other than the bare minimum required to keep herself functioning. That Thanksgiving of 1940 had been one of the first in a while in which she had an abundance of food similar to the amounts she used to indulge in prior to the stock market crash. She had made a bit too much, given that barely anyone could come, given the war. She ended up giving at least half of it away, even as a small voice inside her head begged her to hoard it for later, just in case.

Still, it all worked out. It always did in the end. Now, it was early December. People were beginning to set up their Christmas decorations, and the radio waves were filled with Christmas carols and advertisements for the latest gizmos. She went to see the Rockefeller Tree Lighting in Times Square, looking up in awe at the huge tree, its lights dazzling in the crisp night air. Yes, everything was perfect now. Soon she would begin hunting for some gifts to give to Mexico and Canada, as well as her allies overseas. A small pit formed in her stomach when she remembered a certain French woman who she couldn't give a gift to this year, but she shrugged it off. America would simply have to give her two presents next year, once Britain and the allies liberated her. She was certain that they would. Afterall, everything always worked out in the end. So, that Friday night, when she was lying in her bed, America didn't bother to double check any radars of her military bases, or to call one last time for the night to ensure everything was okay. Afterall, she wasn't worried.