“I didn’t think so. Now for the love of all things good and holy, put all that aside and consider the fate of this man, Art Carillon. Think of yourselves as well. Think on what Art can bring to us, his knowledge of amateur radio. We won’t be alone any more with him around. We can talk with the outside world again! But only if you let him stay.”
Erik heard something about one more mouth to feed. He pinpointed the speaker and pointed at her. “You there, yeah, you, the one griping about feeding another mouth…” the people around the accused woman slowly stepped away. She was alone and seemed to shrink in size, her protective anonymity gone.
“What have you done to help secure our food? Have you gone on the scouting parties? I see you shaking your head. Is that a no? Okay, so do you help unload the stuff when we find it? No again? Well, then…have you helped Bernie and his crew with planting the gardens? No? Hmmm….Okay, have you at least helped with the cooking or trash detail? No again?” When her head shook negative to each relentless question, Erik sighed. She began to sob quietly with a hand over her mouth.
“Then…who…are…you…to judge anyone except the others in this crowd that do nothing but suck their existence off the hard work of those that sacrifice? Answer me!!!” he roared. She opened her mouth in a silent appeal for mercy but Erik was past the point of mercy. “
Why the hell should we feed and protect you and not Art, especially when he has skills we can really use and he wants to help?”
The poor woman looked utterly broken. Those around her pretended she wasn’t there and tried to edge away even further. Erik marveled at the cruelty of crowd mentality but continued using it to his advantage anyway.
“I’ll tell you why,” Erik said to the rest of the crowd. He had to bury his disgust to move on. “Because we are Americans, not a bunch of barbarians. There are those of us here who for one reason or another can’t or won’t help with the chores. Does that mean we throw them to the wolves? This country, hell this neighborhood has seen enough death and destruction in three weeks. I think helping someone in need is something we can all do to help stand up and defy the current trend. “ Erik stepped off the stage. A few people clapped.
LENTZ, CLAD IN his flowing white poolside robes—which looked more like a toga to Erik—stepped forward with the air of a man used to commanding attention. He looked around—down his nose—at the crowd. Sensing the shift in mood, he chose to forgo arguing against letting Art in. Instead he simply put the matter to a vote. In minutes, the tally was counted and Art Carillon was the newest resident of the Freehold.
As the crowd began to disperse for their nightly activities, the leaders of the Freehold had gathered to discuss how to get Art’s gear moved in as fast as possible. It was then that Alfonse suddenly spoke for the first time, that night.
“Hey, everyone, the President is about to address the nation…it’s on short-wave…” he said, pointing to his ear. He unplugged the headset and turned on the speaker.
THE PRESIDENT LOOKED up from the make-shift press-room in NORAD. He was immaculately dressed and groomed, the first time in a few days—to the First Lady’s immense relief. His Press Secretary stood next to the closest camera, counting down the seconds until his boss went on the air.
“Five…four…three…” He stopped counting out loud and held up two fingers, then one finger, then pointed at the President as a red light appeared at the top of the camera.
The President took a deep breath. “My fellow Americans, good evening.” Even though he had the speech memorized by now backwards and forwards, his eyes were trained to read the teleprompter as he spoke. He ignored the dozen or so aides and military staff in the small, dark room.
“In the past few weeks, we have seen terrible destruction visited upon our fair nation. We have lost many of our citizens.” His voice dropped with his eyes and the weariness came through for a split second. The Press Secretary began to sweat. Then the President continued: “We have been without the comforts of modern civilization and we have been under increasing pressure from other nations…the world over.
“As many of you may already know, the brave men and women who serve in our armed forces have been deliberately and maliciously attacked all around the globe in what might be viewed as a concerted effort to cripple our defensive capability. What hurts most is that many of our attackers were once considered our friends.”
GOT THAT RIGHT, muttered the Anzio’s skipper. “Fuckin’ French…”
“Stow that!” hissed the Admiral, eyes and ears glued to the TV in his cabin aboard the Roosevelt. The rest of the fleet’s commanders were in the room, watching their Commander In Chief with rapt attention. For most it was the first direct contact they’d had with anyone higher up the chain of command since the nuclear strike against their battlegroup.
“…My heart grieves for the families who have lost loved ones in the terrible acts of cowardice that took from us some of our finest men and women in Liberia and over the Atlantic Ocean. The thoughts and prayers of the entire nation reach out to the soldiers still besieged in Germany. Hold out, I say to you—hold out at all costs. We are coming for you.”
“What about us?” asked the XO of the Roosevelt.
“And to the brave men and women of the U.S.S. Roosevelt, if you can hear this, know too that we are not about to forget you.”
“Jesus Christ, they don’t know if we’re alive or dead…” muttered the Admiral
“There are rumors floating around the airwaves, what little we have left,” the President’s image said on the screen. He looked sad for a moment, then continued. “There are rumors that the United Nations will be sending a Peacekeeping force to America to help us stabilize our beleaguered nation. Tonight I will address those rumors…”
OH FOR THE love of—“ moaned the National Security Advisor.
“Wait, why is he pausing? Just follow the teleprompter…?” asked the Press Secretary in a horrified whisper. Seconds ticked by with nary a word from the President. The Press Secretary grew more nervous with each passing moment the President said nothing. The cameramen began looking at each other. They were rarely in the know, but even they could feel something was about to hit the fan and it wouldn’t smell sweet.
“Sir!” hissed Jack. “Come on! You’re live! On the air!” No response.
The President stared at the paused teleprompter screen. His next lines hung in the air, waiting to be plucked and fed to the American People. The speech had been changed from his original format, by Jack and the Cabinet. The consensus was the President needed to be more reassuring than appear as a newscaster. Others could tell the people the facts, the President had to inspire.
“What the hell is he doing?” asked Jack in a hiss to one of the make-up artists. She shrugged. Jack could feel the sweat trickling down his back.
THE SECRETARY GENERAL of the United Nations smiled with barely contained glee and leaned back in his plush leather chair. He observed the television in his richly appointed office and savored every awkward second the President did not speak.
“My friends, you are seeing the downfall of the American President and beginning of the end of the American Empire…”
The Iranian ambassador laughed out loud, “Look! He has lost his mind.”
“He cannot even read the words in front of his face! I knew he was just another buffoon!” spat the French ambassador.
“Gentlemen, our victory is assured!” saluted the German, raising a Champaign glass.
The Russian ambassador had removed himself from the group of conspirators and sulked in the corner, sipping a glass of vodka. “Do not be so hasty to judge our American friend,” he warned in a low, dark voice. He was concerned about the lack of contact with a few Russian ships the navy had reported to him earlier, including the now-famous Dansk. It seemed the American Navy had some fight left in it after all. He wasn’t about to release that information to his fellow ambassadors yet though. Not yet.
“Oh come on, Gregor! Join in the fun!�
� teased the Frenchman. “Look!” he said, pointing his glass and spilling some bubbly. The atmosphere in the office was similar to a bunch of friends watching the Super Bowl. “He’s getting up from his desk! Ha ha! What’s he going to do now?”
The Russian glared at the gleeful Frenchman. “You fool…my country will not underestimate the Americans. We have plenty of experience sitting across the lines of combat from them…” he said quietly. The others ignored his warning.
“Ssssh! Pierre, be quiet, he’s taking off his jacket! Perhaps he’ll strip for us!” quipped the German ambassador. The group broke up in guffaws and gut wrenching laughter.
“My fellow Americans…” the President said hesitatingly. “Ah hell, I’ve never been good at prepared speeches. Everyone knows that…” he said, tossing his jacket down on the large table. The foreigners watched as the American President began rolling up his sleeves in a slow, deliberate fashion, never taking his eyes off the camera.
The Secretary General began feeling a bit uneasy in his stomach, looking into the eyes of the American on the television. He began to understand the Russian’s warnings when he saw the look of determination in the President’s cold eyes.
“I’ll be straight with you, America. There ain’t no peacekeeping force coming from the U.N. It’s a goddamn invasion.”
The Frenchman paused mid-swallow with his Champaign glass at his lips.
IN THE OVAL Office, Jack fainted dead away and crashed into a light stand. The President’s make-up girl screamed as sparks shot from the broken lamp. The President ignored the commotion and continued, looking right at the cameras and imagining all the thousands and millions of people who were hanging on his every word, his every movement, all over the world.
This, he decided, is the moment for which I was born. This is my destiny. With that thought, all his stress, anxiety and worry seemed to disappear. A cool, calmness swept over his soul and he felt relaxed and ready.
“Our former friends have banded together to take us down, it’s as simple as that. Good people of America, we’re alone in the world now. The list of traitorous nations grows longer by the hour.” He held up a hand and ticked off a finger. “France—“
SACRE BLEU! SPAT the Frenchman. “He would have to mention France first, of course!”
“Germany…” said the President’s voice. The German ambassador sucked in a breath.
“Russia…” the President said, shaking his head sadly, as if he were more disappointed with the Russians than anything else. Gregor raised his glass in silent salute. As he downed the burning liquid, he grinned for the first time that day.
IN FACT, I can’t stand here and tell you how many there are lining up against us.” The President seemed to stammer and try to collect his thoughts. “The only way to describe it…it’s like, well it’s like a damn feeding frenzy. We’re the wounded fish and the rest of the world is becoming sharks. They’re just circling us and nipping at our fins for now….but when they start to really smell our blood in the water….”
WELL, THAT’S APPROPRIATE, muttered Captain Mitchem, thinking of the ships and sailors they had left behind at the bottom of the eastern Mediterranean yesterday. A few other officers nodded in solemn agreement.
“They’re gonna start a feeding frenzy.” The President’s image sat down heavily on the corner of the big table in NORAD. He sighed. It was evident, even on the small television, with grainy reception, the immense burden of responsibility was weighing on the man’s soul.
“I wish I could stand here and tell you how we’re going to win this fight. And it’s gonna be a knock-down, drag-out dogfight, make no mistake. These duplicitous foreigners have bought our own technology from us for years. They’re better off and better trained because of us. Now they’re all going to throw that back in our faces. That’s the thanks we get for being who we are.
“I don’t want to start any panics now, but I’m going to tell you flat out: these foreigners, when they get here—and they will—“ he said, holding up his hand to forestall an interruption off camera. “Make no mistake about it. We are trying to bring our armed forces home, but they’re being shot in the back. We’re simply not going to be able to prevent one or more of these countries from landing troops on our shores.” He looked down, as if in shame. When he looked up, his voice was quaking and full of emotion.
“I wish God Almighty that it were anyone but me having to admit that to you all, but it’s true.” He sucked in a deep breath, gathered his resolved around him like a suit of armor and continued in a stronger, firmer voice. “I’m not about to waste words or time trying to pussyfoot around the matter, either.”
HOLY SHIT…HE’S losing his mind!”
“My God…he’s going to start mass chaos…”
“Riots…”
“—hell is he doing—“
Hank Suthby stared with open mouth at the war room’s main display screen . He ignored the images of the rest of the Cabinet and the Joint Chiefs on the walls around the room. Reed was playing right into his hands. The people of America were going to totally freak out after this speech. No one would care at all when he went ahead with the plan to institute the harshest measures he might choose in order to gain control. His timetable just got bumped up by months.
ERIK COULDN’T BELIEVE what he was hearing. “I knew it!” he said quietly to Ted. The ex-Marine nodded grimly. They looked out over the crowd on the pool deck, everyone waiting in silence for the speakers Alfonse had rigged up to continue the President’s speech. The only sound came from the insects of the night and the crackling of the tiki torches.
“We are stepping into dangerous times, friends. Perhaps the most dangerous times we have faced as a nation since our Founding Fathers decided to stand up and fight for their liberty…and ours.”
A few of the men in the crowd set their faces and folded arms, agreeing in silence. Erik could see the worry on people’s faces reflected in the warm light of the tiki torches..
“I don’t think I need to remind all of you—for more than two and a half centuries this nation has stood for Freedom and Liberty, not only on our own shores but across the world. We have freed millions over the years from the yoke of tyranny and oppression. And now the circle is complete. Those we have freed are turning against us. It is we who are under the threat of the hangman’s noose now.
“It is now our solemn duty, our turn to pick up the musket and stand tall for Freedom. Our freedom. To fight those that would strip our families and our posterity of the liberty we have enjoyed for so long; a liberty that was forged in the fires of battle and quenched with the blood of Patriots.”
Erik and Ted looked at each other nervously. If they were sitting they’d be on the edge of their seats. The President was a master orator, Erik discovered. His speaking style might not be as polished as his political opponents, but Erik couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with pride at being an American. Even in the face of so many of the nations of the world coming down on them like so many bricks out of the sky, Erik wanted to shout defiance. Adrenaline flowed in his veins, he was ready to fight, to defend America. Right now.
“Be that as it may, I know…I know more so than any foreigner out there who may be listening to this broadcast, the true spirit and nature of the American people. I am…we are therefore, faced with the threat of invasion on all sides by most of the civilized world, forced to play our hand, as it were.”
THEY WANT TO take over our nation,” the President said, nodding to himself. “That’s fine and dandy. A nice dream,” he said with a half smile. The disquieting smile vanished. “Never gonna happen, but a nice dream.”
He bent down and opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out an official looking document. “In the spirit of the friendship that we once had for the nations now attacking us, I’m announcing this Congressional Order, right now.”
The National Security Advisor felt her mood change. She was no longer angry with the President for giving away tactical secrets. The man
was pissing in the face of his enemies and doing it with style.
“This Congressional Order,” the President said, holding up for the cameras to get a good tight shot. “For all you out there who don’t have access to a television or aren’t within range of an operating television station, the document in my hand is the equivalent of what our Founding Fathers would have called Letters of Marques and Reprisal.”
WHAT THE HELL? asked Ted in a hushed tone.
Erik felt a slow, steady smile spread on his face.
I DON’T LIKE the way he looks…why is he smiling like that?” asked the Iranian, pointing at the television on the Secretary General’s desk.
The Frenchman sat back and pursed his lips, lost in though. The mood in the room had gone from victory party to funeral parlor. Only the Russian was smiling now, dark and rueful. He chuckled to himself and drained his glass of vodka in salute to the courage the American was displaying. Wasted courage, because the Americans would fall in the end—but courage nonetheless. He shrugged, chuckled again and poured himself another glass of Polish vodka.
THIS ORDER GRANTS any American citizen the right to raid, capture and or kill any foreign soldier, foreign vessel or aircraft…hell anything having to do with any country we’ve declared war against.” He took a moment to look at the historic paper in his hands. “It boils down to this: If you see a French or German soldier in your neighborhood, shoot the bastard or drag his sorry ass to the nearest army base. Take his boat, take his plane or chopper, take his vehicle. It’s called the spoils of war and Congress has declared it legal for every single American to do what he or she wants towards these would be conquerors.
Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) Page 48
