Beside him, Carter looked up at the Secretary. Wells touched her hand, and the Lieutenant’s fingers slipped between his own. She looked at him, her eyes sad and tired. He wiped a smudge from her cheek where her tears had cut through the grime and soot, and she turned her face into the touch.
“My friends,” Roosevelt said.
Wells and Carter looked up at the secretary.
“Today we have won the battle, but not the war,” Roosevelt said. “Many of our brothers and sisters around the globe—and we, in our humanity, are all brothers and sisters—are fighting and dying at this very moment.”
O’Brien touched Wells’ shoulder, and the Captain turned to look into the Irishman’s determined gaze. O’Brien nodded. Wells clenched his jaw and returned the nod. In that moment, there were no English… no Irish… no borders… only humankind.
“But I swear to you,” Roosevelt continued, “in the names of our hallowed dead that we will never forget our mission. We will drive these monsters from our Earth—from our home—and one day take the war to them!”
Roosevelt looked up and pointed into the sky, into the dimming twilight.
“Mars,” he shouted, “do you hear us? Mankind is coming, and A.R.E.S. will lead the way!”
The crowd cheered, and the chants became a wall of sound that Mars may very well have heard across the great cosmic expanse. The scarred, filthy, jubilant survivors shouted their affirmation of Roosevelt’s words. Soldiers, airmen, sailors, and even civilians raised their fists into the air, declaring their defiance of their implacable enemy. The invaders had sown the seeds of war, and soon they would reap the fruits of mankind’s vengeance. Emboldened by the crowd’s enthusiasm, Wells turned to Carter, pulled her to him, and kissed her.
Overhead, led by Richthofen’s blazing red Valkyrie, the A.R.E.S. air force soared in formation, ready for the next battle, wherever that might be.
About the Author
Adam J. Whitlatch is the author of The Weller, War of the Worlds: Goliath, Birthright, and Vengeance For My Valentine, as well as dozens of short stories and poems spanning the genres of science fiction, fantasy, and horror.
A fantasy enthusiast from a young age, his interest in science fiction was first sparked at the age of ten when his father played the infamous 1938 Orson Welles War of the Worlds radio broadcast for him on Halloween. It’s a tradition Adam carries on to this day.
Adam lives in Iowa with his wife and their three sons.
www.adamjwhitlatch.com
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