The Tsunami

by Marshall Miller

  “So you will supply me some support?”

  “Have your people start heading toward the former Eglin Air Force Base in the panhandle area of Florida. The large range area that was used for weapons testing and development we use now as a training center, especially with our limited heavy equipment, armor, and so forth. I’ll have some tanks and such you can use, once you have trained personnel. I’ll see how many trainers I can get. No promises, for the reasons I have already stated.”

  Kray gave him a wry smile. “I guess I will just have to make do with that.” He looked at his two bodyguards, who were finally on the feet, but wobbly. Kray gave a bit of a Prussian bow to Adam, then Andrew, clicking his heels a bit.

  “Till we meet again. Gentlemen.” He then walked directly out of Adam’s office, through the outer office, then down toward the main entrance. The two subdued bodyguards trailed behind.

  Adam looked at large Andrew standing stoically in the office. When Andrew saw that Kray and company had left, gave Adam his typical small smile. “Sometimes one must play a certain role to get a point across.”

  “So, Andrew, we’re okay? I haven’t… overstepped any boundaries?”

  “Of course not. Otherwise I would have let you know.” Andrew’s mouth shaped a more wry smile. With his eyes covered by the protective visor, his face was sometimes hard to read.

  “You don’t see me suspending you and Heidi as I did with those two less than efficient examples of humanity, do you?”

  “Hey, big guy,” Heidi jumped in. “That would not be cool. You would not be on my Christmas list anymore if you did that.”

  “Why, Heidi, I did not know I was on your list. Thank you for telling me. Now I have time to come up with a present for you.”

  Heidi grinned. “Well, now you know. Do you need my clothes sizes, any other personal info?”

  “You forget, Heidi. I have many additional sensors, capabilities wired into me. I know your measurements within a millimeter. I know when you gain a pound, and where.”

  “TMI Andrew. TMI. Please, don’t start blabbing things.”

  Adam began to laugh, then Heidi and Mary, who was still sitting at her desk, observing the activities.

  Mary glanced at the surveillance system screen. “He’s leaving, Director. And he looks none too happy. I don’t think he likes being reminded he is working for others, that he is not in charge of his own future.”

  Adam snorted. “Welcome to the world of the Tschaaa. I thought he worshipped the Squids as ancient Krakens originally, as God-like creatures. Now, the more contact I have with him, the more I realize he is worshiping some esoteric Kraken God above the Tschaaa, with whom he is becoming more frustrated with every day. He wants Tschaaa weapons, more direct support in dealing with Atlanta. He wants the city leveled. But His Lordship has said no. Now, he wants to attack the Unoccupied States.”

  “He has been told he has the chance to prove his abilities,” opined Andrew. “But he and his fellow believers are being used as warm bodies, disposable fighters. Kray wants to be more important, but Lord Neptune realizes Kray’s severe limitations, which is a main reason why His Lordship still keeps coming to you for many things, Adam.”

  Adam studied Andrew. “Does His Lordship realize how dangerous this …frustration on the part of Kray can be?”

  Andrew paused for a moment. Then he answered. “His opinion is that if push comes to shove, some of my brothers and I will visit the Reverend and his people. And we will deal with the problem with extreme prejudice. It would be messy and destructive. But, once Kray no longer has use, or becomes too much of a problem, he is gone.”

  Adam did not say anything for a moment. He knew that the same answer applied to him as Director. As a favored “pet” he would be given more leeway. But, push comes to shove, the results would be the same.

  “Well, Andrew, I guess all we can do is take it day by day. And, due to our Kraken friend’s actions in Montana, the next few days are not going to be pleasant.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Some historians say the Chinese had the first really grand government bureaucracy. Since that time, every group of humans has deemed to necessary to form a bureaucracy in support of their daily operations. The Unoccupied States were no different.

  -Excerpts from the Works of Princess Akiko, Free Japan Royal Family

  BISMARCK, NORTH DAKOTA

  Hours after Adam had his meetings on the fallout from the U.S.A. broadcast, Madam President was just finishing up her work day. It had been over twenty-four hours from the time that everyone within eyeshot of a television or computer screen had seen the images of the hell-spawn, a new name becoming popular for the mutated Earth fauna, as well as the five surviving girls. Much like Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy assassination, 9/11, and when the first rock struck, everyone would remember where they were when they saw the horrific images. People would have thought that, after having friends and relatives butchered already by the Tschaaa, that there was nothing more that could shock their sensibilities. They were wrong.

  The North Dakota state capitol complex had been turned into the new Unoccupied States of America Federal Capital. Buildings had been added onto, areas expanded to house the Congress (Sixteen Senators and thirty-two Representatives, divided evenly for the time being between the eight member states). Elections every two years, with six year terms for the Senators, two for the Representatives, like the old days. No political parties as of yet. There wouldn’t be, if she had any say in the matter. Each elected official worked for their state, and the citizens of that state. Bismarck was in driving distance of all the Congressmen, except for Alaska, so there was limited overhead expenditure in housing and transportation. In fact, several apartment buildings in the Bismarck area had been purchased and refurbished (though in a pretty spartan way) for use by the officials and their limited staff. No more frills, free haircuts, subsidized meals, etcetera. Everyone lived on their basic salary, with the Federal government providing a few support items—office space, computers, telephones, and of course, paper. What government could run without paperwork?

  The official salaries, budgets, and support systems had been in existence just over a year. Before that, Madam President had been a benign dictator in fact, as there was little governmental structure to call on, or to advise her. She had the military, which had been the extent of government assets. Accepted as the President because she was one of the few surviving elected officials, and the only one willing to take the job, she had been running the operation of this new country by the seat of her pants since the end of the Long Winter. And her pants had become threadbare. Thank God, enough people had stepped forward to add some civilian control once again. Militias, vigilance committees, county and town councils had helped create a framework, a working organizational structure for a representative Republic once again.

  The first day of Congressional activities of the new term had been a week before the nuke strike. During a combined meeting of both Houses, after a very meaningful prayer for guidance, sufficient basic legislation had been passed to create a functioning new federal government. Then, two days later, after creating a secure meeting area, she had laid out the basics of the attack on Key West. Just the bare bones that, yes, there was a plan to bomb the Tschaaa Lord and company. Can we do it?

  There had been a very short subsequent discussion of what steps had been taken to protect the U.S.A. from any counter-strike, and to determine if there a likelihood of a counter-strike based on what they knew of the Tschaaa and the Director. Then, to the President’s surprise, all of the newly elected Representatives and Senators had stood up unheeded. A retired U.S. Senator, Joseph Biggs, the elder statesman who had now re-entered politics, spoke. At seventy-five years of age, he was one of the oldest survivors, and a dear friend of Madam President before the Invasion.

  “Madam President,” his voice rang out despite his age. “Do what you must. My colleagues and I vote for the first act of war against the invading Tschaaa. May God speed the
young men and women of our military. And God bless the human race.” There was a round of applause and of cheers, which filled the new House of Congress. At that moment, Madam President knew she was the leader of a group of Americans. And then, there was no turning back. She had just stuck a large thumb in the eye of the dragon.

  Senator Biggs was elected in Congress to fill in as Vice President until a formal election could be held. If she was killed, there would be continuity in the Office of the President.

  Vice President Biggs was now at the former U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado, a functioning full scale military installation. Maybe someday, there would be another military academy there. Right now, four years of officer training was a luxury that no one could afford. She and Joe tried to stay a bit separated, as they kept expecting an attempt to whack them any day now. Atlanta was surrounded as the last bastion of resistance in Cattle Country, so there were less distractions for the Squids. They should be planning revenge. At least, that is what a human would be doing.

  She was putting papers in her satchel to take them back to the Presidential residence, a rather large house that had been owned by a well-to-do businessman, now deceased. He had gotten into the oil industry boom in North Dakota on the ground floor, and had made some millions. Then the Tschaaa had shown up. His surviving family members had sold the residence to the New Federal Gov’t, then had headed for the hills of Montana. They did not want to be around when the Squids came calling on this upstart government.

  There was a knock on her office door. It was late at night, so she had already sent her limited staff home. She heard a familiar West Texas drawl. “Ma’am, the State Troopers outside tell me there are some people here asking to see you.”

  The owner of the West Texas drawl was her driver, former Texas Ranger Andrew “Andy” Jackson. He had been one of the most senior, and oldest, Rangers when the Squids had hit. In the continuation of a long history of service, the Rangers had aided the local military and state forces in resisting the Tschaaa’s taking of Houston, Galveston and Corpus Christi, as they took control of the warmer waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

  Andy had told her it had been a short and nasty fight.

  “Rocks hit the city centers, along with the military bases. Then the Deltas and Falcons came in and shot at anything moving. Harvester arks showed up, spittin’ out those goddamned—pardon my language, Ma’am—harvester robs. Then robocops, a few grays, lizards, and those traitorous flying squads of humans.

  “We fought them for forty-eight hours, almost straight through. The robocops finally formed a line and started blowing us to hell and gone. I think I’m one of three Rangers that survived.”

  His family had been living in Alpine, Texas. He had managed to make it back, and with the rest of West Texas, hunkered down. The several thousand inhabitants of Alpine, Texas were a hardy lot. They banded together and weathered the Long Winter together, fighting off bands of Ferals. Sol Ross College located there helped provide some scientific and technical help. They may not have flourished, but they survived. Even most of the elderly lived, not a normal occurrence post-Invasion. Far from the Gulf, as well as the Pacific Ocean, they were left alone by the Tschaaa.

  Then one day, Andy said he had heard that the Unoccupied States of America was up and running, trying to preserve what the original states had stood for. He had been experiencing a feeling of frustration, helplessness. Texas Rangers had not been in the habit of admitting defeat. The Alamo meant something to them. One Riot, one Ranger had been a mantra for years. Andy lived it, breathed it, felt it to his core. There may only be one of him but, dammit, he was Texas Ranger. Maybe one of the last.

  With the help of his very tech savvy daughter, he put out feelers through the new internet that had sprung up from the Tschaaa controlled areas and the Unoccupied States. Sure enough, Madam President was looking for a few good men, and age was not a concern.

  So he talked it over with his family—wife, two sons, and daughter. Alpine would be stagnant, trapped in time for years, maybe forever. The family packed everything up into a pick-up, trailer, and a SUV and headed north. His eldest son had gotten into some trouble, had done some prison time before the rocks set him free. The thought of a complete “do over” for him was a Godsend. They headed to Malmstrom Military Base, sending out job feelers. Madam President got wind that a Texas Ranger was looking for a job. Sandra Paul took one look at him, hired him on the spot as her driver/bodyguard. The rest was history. After some two years of bouncing around while his family found a new home in Great Falls, Andy Jackson was now a part of Madam President’s office, just as George Williams was a part. A couple of times Ranger Jackson had to handle unruly constituents that were getting violent. The word got around that the tall, lanky man in the Stetson was the real deal, not some drugstore cowboy wannabe claiming to be a Ranger. And his Texas Ranger Commemorative Smith and Wesson .357 Highway Patrolman was fully functional.

  So when Andy came and told her there was a crowd of people wanting to see her at 10:00pm at night, she knew that he had already surveyed the situation and knew that the people would not be dissuaded by him saying the President was unavailable. It also meant that he thought it was something important.

  She smiled at the Ranger. “So, are they carrying pitchforks and torches?”

  He chuckled. “No. Ma’am. The have a whole bunch of candles. Some look like luminarias, like Mexicans and Texans put out this time a year in the Southwest.”

  “Hmmm. That’s a switch. How many are there?”

  “Close to a thousand, I think. With a few kids mixed in.”

  Madam President’s jaw dropped a bit. A thousand people on a cold, sub-freezing night in North Dakota, coming out in mass? What was happening?

  She walked over to her coat rack and threw her parka on, grabbed a heavy scarf her sainted husband had given her years ago.

  “Time to go meet them, Andy. If they braved this weather to see me, I owe it to them to make it worth their while. Let’s go.” She turned and strode purposefully out toward the stairs leading to the building entrance. She did not see the small smile on the Ranger’s face. Once again, her aggressive, take charge attitude gave him a positive jolt in his soul. With her in charge, he knew the Squid’s days were numbered. As he had often wondered before, why couldn’t there have been more like her six years ago? People may not have given up so quickly, going to hide in holes.

  The President soon found herself at the top of the wide front steps, looking down onto a small sea of lights. She should have known that Andy would not have exaggerated. Now, the question was, why were they here? Well, the only way she would find out is if she went and asked.

  She walked down the steps, taking her parka hood down as she neared the crowd. They were respectively standing back from just two State Troopers who had blocked their way up to the front doors. Demonstrations of civil disobedience, attempts at harassing the Man, authority were things of the past. Everyone knew who the real enemy was. She smiled and called out as she walked down the steps.

  “Hello. What brings all of you out on this cold, snowy night? What can I do for you?”

  A familiar sounding voice called back. “The question is, what can we do for you, Madam President?”

  She looked at the source of the remark and saw a slender black man standing in the front of the crowd. Her mind quickly scrolled down her list of possible names and faces, and hit on one. Jerome Washington, father of Sergeant George Washington, Medal of Honor winner from the nuke raid on Key West. Posthumously.

  She stepped down a couple of steps closer, holding her hand out. “Mr. Washington. How are you this brisk, cold night in Bismarck?” Mr. Washington worked his way up the steps and shook her hand. Madam President had presented the Medal of Honor and flag from his son’s coffin personally to the man and his wife. Director Lloyd had made good on his promise to Torbin Bender. All the remains of the deceased soldiers had been quietly passed back into the U.S.A. It had helped grant clos
ure to the families, surviving relatives.

  Jerome Washington had been one of the few people of color who had brought his whole family successfully up from what was now Cattle Country. A pharmacist by trade, he and others had set up a Pharmaceutical Training Academy, as pharmacists were in short supply in the Unoccupied States.

  A slender, almost skinny man, Jerome Washington had the strong voice of a man of stature, strength. “I think I can speak for almost everyone here. Madam President, please know that we are here for you. If you need something, just ask.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “We know that, after seeing the…horrific pictures, images from the broadcast last night that we have been fooling ourselves. We thought he Squids would not touch us, would ignore us. Out of sight, out of mind.” There were murmurs of assent from the crowd.

  “Many of us were angry when you launched that strike against Key West. We thought you were asking for trouble, poking a stick into an ant hill. After all, they had left us alone for some six years. Who cared about those being butchered in Cattle Country? Out of sight, out of mind.”

  His voice quavered a bit, but Jerome continued, “Even though I had lost relatives directly to harvesting, I chose not to speak out, to agitate for action to help others. I chose not to speak out because…I was afraid.” There were more voicing of agreement from the crowd.

  “I was selfish. I had saved my immediate family. Time to live a new life.” A tear ran down his cheek which he quickly wiped away to keep it from freezing.

  “I was angry and hurt when my son, George, was killed doing what he thought was right. I started to blame you, Madam President. Now I must ask your forgiveness for that blame.”

  “Now, Jerome, there is no need to apologize for….” She began. But the slender dark man held up a hand to stop her.

  “Please, let me finish. I have to say this. You were right. I was wrong. The evil the Squids have visited on us what we cannot ignore. It is now permeating even up here in the so called safe areas. Seeing what those beasts, those Krakens did in the name of the Tschaaa Lord can’t be allowed to exist. To see those young bodies hanging, like pieces of meat…” There were now sobs from the crowd. Jerome swallowed, somehow continued.