Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) (57 page)

The U.N. 
His mind was racing through the list of hazards.  Land invasion, European
fleets mobilizing in the next month, maybe right now.  Armies forming.  Nations
merging their forces together.  The E.U. becoming a heavyweight counterbalance
to a crumbling NATO.  His imagination saw hundreds of foreign warships in
American ports, bombarding the cities into submission.  Just like his advisors
were considering for Chicago…

And then
there was the disturbing reports of vigilantism popping up in the southwest
along the border with Mexico.  Reports of battles, hundreds killed.  He was
sure most were blown out of proportion but still…with everything else going on,
he couldn’t rule out the fact that Americans were sick and tired of Mexicans
sneaking across the border and now had a perfect opportunity to do something
about the problem.

Something
needed to be done.  Things were not happening fast enough.  Some things were
happening too fast.  America was tearing itself apart and the U.N. hadn’t even
set one foot on American soil.  The country needed to be unified to fend off
the foreign invasion that was coming.  The weight of the world was approaching
like the proverbial freight train. 

He suddenly
remembered something his father had told him years ago, when he began his
career in public office.  “
Son, against all the evil, the misaligned, greedy
and self-deluded of the world, the light of freedom shines alone.  We are that
light.  We are lighthouse to the world.  That light must never be
extinguished.  Never
.” 

The light
seemed to the President to be flickering and growing weaker by the hour. 
Something needed to be done. 
Now
.

“Jack,” the
President said quietly.  When he spoke, everyone in the room fell instantly
silent.  Men and women turned their heads mid-sentence to see what their
over-burdened leader had to say.

The
President’s press secretary perked up.  He was more of an after-thought at
these meetings and rarely had a chance to participate.  His input was valuable,
because he had press connections all over the world.  His job was to gather
information from outside the country—find out what the rest of the world
thought.

“Uh, yes,
sir?” asked the surprised man, grabbing for a pen and some paper.  He had been
half asleep, lulled into semi-unconsciousness by the constant arguing cabinet
members. 

“Jack, get
on the horn to all the major media outlets.  I want air time and I want it
tonight.  Shouldn’t be too hard all things considered...  I want radio spots
too.  In fact, just get me on
everything
.  Hell, even the internet, if
it’s still up and running.  Send out notices to our foreign
friends
as
well.  I want everyone in the world to listen in.  Can you make sure they get
it?”

“Of course,
sir…I’ll have to pull some major strings, but…”

“Just make
it happen, Jack.  That’s all I ask.”

“Yes, sir!”

When the
Press Secretary had left the room, the National Security Advisor spoke up. 
“Sir, what’s all this about?  What are you going to do?”

“I’m a
politician, Alicia.  I’m gonna give a speech.”  The President sighed.  The
faces of his military leaders were all worn and weary, most were looking down,
taking a moment to gather thoughts.  Only the Commandant of the Marine Corps
looked like he had spirit in him to spare.  The wiry old man watched the
President with a keenness in his eye reserved for hardened warriors. 

The
President met his gaze and studied the old Marine’s face.  He thought back to
his history lessons and wondered if Julius Caesar had a look like that at the
battle of Alesia.  The Romans had cornered the Gauls and besieged the hilltop
town.  Before long a colossal force of reinforcing Gauls then besieged the
Romans, cutting off their tenuous supply line.  And yet Caesar did not give in
to the overwhelming numbers of the enemy both in front and behind.  He split
his small force and attacked both sides at once, eventually achieving a hard
fought victory and the conquest of Gaul at last.

Well,
Julius, we copied your government, your legal system, hell even your army and
navy to some extent.  Let’s see if we can copy your luck,
thought
the President.

Lost in his
own thoughts, the President never saw the look of surprise and worry appear on
the face of Hank Suthby from across the long table.  The head of Homeland
Security would have something new to fret about in his schemes. 

WELL, THERE YOU have
it.  I’ve made my speech,” said Erik, standing on the Stage, looking out over
the pool deck at the assembled residents of the Freehold.  The lit tiki-torches
were competing with the setting sun.  “You all know where I stand on the
issue.  I think Art should be welcomed into our community.”

“Yeah, and
you’d have us start an army—three
boys
were killed today!“ someone
heckled.

“Those
boys
were probably rapist and thieves!  Looters!” someone else called out.

“
Probably
? 
We’ll never know, will we?!” someone else countered.

Erik held
up his arms to stop the bubbling in the crowd.  “Come on….people, hey, hold it
together for a second.  Look…” he said, pacing a bit and waiting for the
murmuring to die down.  He could feel the eyes of Lentz boring into his head
from behind.  “I know a lot of you haven’t liked the way I do things…”   He
continued quickly before anyone could interject.  “But you have to admit, since
I have been either in charge of the community or its defenses, we have suffered
only slightly.”

“Tell that
to Ryan’s widow!” someone shouted.  Angry rumblings issued forth from the
crowd.  The pain was still fresh from the Battle.

Erik
chopped the air with his hand, cutting through the dissent as if with the sword
that hung from his belt.  “Do you think I don’t
know
that?  Do you
honestly
think that the deaths of everyone who I fought with mean nothing to me?  That’s
all
I think about!” he roared.  Tears of frustration and rage and shame
bubbled up in his eyes but he fought to keep from shedding them.  “If I didn’t
care so much about this place, I assure you, I’d give up this post in a
heartbeat
. 
The responsibility is enormous!  Does anyone else here want to deal with it? 
Do
you
want to have to tell someone their husband or son or brother has
just died to protect them and everyone else?”  He pointed at the loudest
protester.  The man shrunk in shame. 
He
didn’t want the job.

“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.