Overrun (6 page)

“There’s nothing you have to
justify to me,” she said again towards Kirken and then walked away.

“I can’t be a part of it,”
Brandon said his anger softening. “A country that is merely content to save
itself. And not even all of it.”

They both watched Mel stroll
further down the street towards the downtown.

“Brandon…,” Kirken began. By now
he could barely speak.

"The United States is
separating itself from the rest of the world,” Brandon continued. “Once the
planet has been unalterably weakened by all the years unprotected, and many,
many people have died from the sickness...the takeover will begin. Everyone
knows that. On the inside and the out. I think this is the worst thing this world
has ever seen."

Kirken hung his head. His dark
glasses slipped halfway down his nose allowing the sun’s glare back into his
eyes. Brandon turned to walk after Mel. He stopped in front of Kirken.

"I will not leave them,”
Brandon said not looking at him directly but somewhere over his shoulder down
the street. “I will stay and live here with Mom and Mel for as long as I'm
able. I want nothing to do with anything else. Tell them to quit coming."

With that, Brandon left.

Kirken watched him break into a
jog to catch up to Mel. He swore to himself and reached back into the car to
grab the holovid from the top of the seat. He watched them walk further away
while he clipped it to his waist.

He stood there for a long while.

Brandon’s bitterness was much
more intense than his own. His fury raged behind his eyes, and Kirken knew
firsthand the ravaging effects it had on one’s soul.

With a heavy
heart, he watched them walk further away and slowly disappear from view.

"What happened again?"
United States President Franklin F. Ford asked his most senior advisor Daniel
Baldwin.

Ford stood up from behind his
desk and nervously paced the room. Color rushed from his face and new wrinkles
furrowed deeper into his skin.

"We had an incident,”
Baldwin began to explain. “About two days ago.”

Baldwin sat in a large seat on
the opposite end of the presidential chamber from Ford. His voice echoed in the
vast emptiness of the room. A briefcase lay open on a table in front of him
covering blank command monitors embedded in its surface.

War Minister Faulken scowled in
a seat just to Baldwin’s left. A pile of documents covered most of his lap.

"What happened was very
large and very difficult to contain."

President Ford walked over to a
couch across from Baldwin, sat down and began rubbing his temples. He took a
deep breath and hung his head between knees. Releasing the air slowly from his
lungs, he looked up at the two men before him.

"What kind of
incident?" he asked tiredly.

"About thirty-six hours
ago, fifty-four Vulture soldiers were slaughtered in a raid on an abandoned
factory," Faulken explained glancing up from the papers in his lap to look
at the President.

Ford’s posture became rigid and
straight.

Faulken leaned back
uninterestedly in his seat next to Baldwin appearing not to share in his
concern.

"What are you talking
about?” Ford looked quizzically at Faulken then to Baldwin. “Where was the
factory?"

Baldwin avoided his stare and
focused his eyes on a spot across the ground.

"It was a J.G.U. raid,”
Faulken droned off like an uncaring machine. “On our soldiers. The factory was
about twenty-five miles into the boundary of the old Soviet Union.”

"What?" Ford
straightened further in his seat stunned at what he had just heard.

"The Vulture team was
investigating rumors of nuclear missile existence in that quadrant,"
Faulken answered matter-of-factly.

"What the hell are you
talking about?" Ford demanded his voice rising. "Nukes haven't
existed for more than fifty years. No J.G.U. unit would ever even bother with
something as…"

"It was a dome
technological research plant," Baldwin said sitting up. His elbows rubbed
next to Faulken's while he leaned closer towards the President across the small
table. "At least that’s what we believed it was before it was
destroyed."

"What?"

"The team was discovered
assassinating J.G.U. scientists…," Baldwin stopped short at Faulken's hard
glare. "And rigging the facility to explode."

Ford's mouth hung open
incredulously. His face became dark red. Despite a look of seething anger, he
did not speak.

"Prisoners were acquired,”
Baldwin said while Faulken turned his head back to the President.

“Jesus Christ,” Ford said now
turning white.

“Mr. President,” Faulken spoke.
“We sent several transmissions to the J.G.U. stating our concerns of a nuclear
existence in that part of the globe."

"There were never any
concerns," the President's voice ripped out in a rage-filled whisper.

"Teams have been discovered
before," Faulken responded in a level voice.

"What goddamn teams?” Ford
hissed. “I want to know what the hell armed teams from our country are doing
anywhere outside our part of the globe. It’s an act of war for God's
sake!"

The skin under his left eye
began to twitch, and his eye fluttered rapidly.

"And I want to know why I
don't know about it."

"It was not beneficial for
you to have this knowledge."

"I'm only the goddamn
President!" Ford slammed his fists across the table and stormed across the
room to the large solar-protected window behind his desk.

"Authorization for these
types of operations has never come from me or anyone in this administration. I
want to know from where in the goddamn hell these orders are occurring."

"These operations have been
planned and implemented long before you came into office, sir," Baldwin
spoke quietly not moving in his seat. "Few people know anything about
it."

"None of that is important
right now," Faulken cut in impatiently. "What is important is the
fact..."

"Don't you dare presume to
tell me what is important now, Faulken, you son of a bitch," Ford didn't
turn around and continued to stare outside. "You tell me right now why all
of a sudden I'm hearing about the massacre of a United States soldier squad
outside this country. All the way across the world for god’s sakes. An
operation like that would never have been approved. Not with my knowledge. Even
if there was a threat of nuclear existence. Not right away."

"It’s not something for you
to authorize," Faulken responded his tone soft and belligerent.

Ford turned his body around,
stepped from behind his desk and moved to stand in front of Faulken.

Faulken did not look up.

"I am the leader of the
free United States,” Ford’s voice was low and threatening. “I control the most
powerful and technologically advanced dome society on this planet. If plans for
military operations are being discussed or exist that threaten that for which I
am responsible, then by God I will be doing the authorizing. Do you goddamn got
that?"

"This goes way beyond
anything you can remotely imagine, Mr. President," Faulken said icily.
"Way beyond you. You've never known for a reason."

"And what reason is
that?"

"To help implement foreign
strategies that you yourself helped design."

"I am part of no such
thing, Mr. Faulken."

"But sir, you are. It has
never been a secret that a technological race is underway between the U.S. and
the J.G.U. We are both searching for the same thing, a defense against the sun.
The first country to figure out a way to protect all of its citizens will
eventually heal. While watching the others burn and die. The world is engaged
in a dangerous struggle. One it has never before seen.

“And Mr. President,
technological withholdings from the rest of the world is something that you do
know and are aware of. You have been a part by embargoing all technological
aid, shipments and communications to any country outside the U.S.-controlled
nation state. J.G.U. political policy is of course to do the same. So we are
not completely evil yet.

“But then we get to the all out
ban on world trade your administration dreamed up. This fits in perfectly with
what the world has become and what a certain underground government wishes to
see done. We don't bring anything in, and we sure as hell don't ever let
anything out.

“So, you see, you are a part.
Just as much as we are, Mr. President. You've sealed us off and separated us
from the rest of the world. And this you and your administration have done
completely on your own.”

Ford's face transformed again
from a reddened rage to a nauseous white.

"That's not true. I'm not
part of any of this,” Ford said his voice quieting some. “There is no
‘underground’ that I am aware of. I admit I know about the existence of the
plan. Every President is briefed on it before taking oath. He is then asked if
he still wants to accept his term. What I've never been aware of, however, is a
secretive military outfit that seems to be operating only to provoke its
use."

"We are engaged in
something completely different than the world before," Faulken admonished.
"We are not dealing in a race to build weapons of mass destruction, but
rather a technological contest merely to survive. The one country that is left
is the one that will rule the world. And that rule will last forever with no
other superpower to contest it. Plan Zero has been designed with this in mind.
And it was always intended to be put to use. And the time for that may be
coming very soon."

Ford's anger dropped away like
someone slapped it from his face. He walked listlessly to his desk and dropped
into his leather chair. He rolled up his sleeves and leaned his elbows against
its oak surface.

"As you said, what you may
not be aware of, sir, is that small squads of troops have been dispatched
throughout the globe to assess the problem," Faulken continued. "A
special group, in existence for years, was created to carry out precautionary
secretive strikes throughout the globe to ensure that our country is the one to
survive. You may not be aware of their deployment, but you sure as hell know
that they exist. I've allowed enough information to be brought to you for you
to be at least aware of that."

"Yes, I've heard rumors of
a death squad existence," Ford admitted. "I've seen the effects of
what they have done. But until this moment, I always thought these units were
nothing more than global mercenaries that we may or may not discreetly finance.
Some of it, I didn’t even believe to be true. Either way, I have never before
thought mission orders would be traced back here. I am very unaware that
independent military factions exist to this extent in our country, Mr.
Faulken."

"It has all been purposely
kept from you," Faulken explained. "It's much easier for a President
to deny U.S. troop activities if he himself does not believe they actually exist."

More color washed from Ford's
face while Faulken continued.

"Actually mission orders
can't be followed back here. At least not to the Administration Dome directly.
These soldiers are not official military and don't even train on U.S. soil.
Their existence and anonymity in these covert activities have remained
untraceable for more than twenty years."

"Sir, are you
alright?" Baldwin stood and walked to the President. Ford had closed his
eyes and remained motionless at his desk for several long seconds.

President Ford did not respond.
Drops of sweat beaded more heavily across his forehead and poured over his
eyes. They traced thin streaks down both of his cheeks.

"Please continue, Mr.
Faulken," Ford said finally. "I want to know the primary objective of
these squads not under my control. What is their number one standing order?
What is their purpose? What are they trained in? Worse yet, what are they
prepared to do?"

"Since the unit's creation,
its members have been trained and operated under orders to seek out threats to
the United States. Research facilities, illegal weapon arsenals, nuclear
technology. Anything that can compromise U.S. security. They are then to get
inside. And eliminate it.”

The large room became silent.
For many long seconds, only a small fan on Ford’s desk made any sound.

"How does something become
assessed and targeted as a threat?" Ford asked.

“We have espionage operatives in
all sections of the globe,” Faulken said sitting up in his seat. “Anything they
find suspicious usually becomes a target.”

"Anything suspicious
becomes a target," Ford softly repeated his words. "How many targets
would you estimate within the last three years?"

“During your term…,” Faulken
answered right away trying to organize the papers in front of him as if he was
getting ready to leave. “More than 456 operations were green lit since you took
office.”

"How many dead?"

"Hard to tell,” Faulken
returned quickly again. “Vulture squads have confirmed more than twenty-five
hundred high-ranking operative kills. That number does not include lower tier
personnel….or civilians that may have been killed in the fallout."

Ford’s throat was dry.

"What has been the civilian
fallout?" the President demanded looking hard across his desk at Faulken.

Faulken did not see his stare.
He was busy reading numbers from documents anchored by a thin metal line to the
bottom of his case.

"It’s anybody’s guess,” he
said shuffling the papers away. “But it could run up as high as the tens of
thousands."

"Good Christ," Ford
said sullenly lowering his face into his palms.

Baldwin shifted uneasily in his
seat and looked at the ground.

"It’s not something that
can come back to us,” Faulken spoke again. “We're not anywhere near
American-controlled territory when it happens. The world is so divided we can
do pretty much whatever we want. These towns and facilities that end up
destroyed are mostly assumed to have fallen prey to a disgruntled faction or
desperate outsider from anywhere throughout the world.

“We live in a fearful time, Mr.
President. And these squads have been dispatched long ago to exploit this.
Exploit it in an attempt to defend against it."

Ford could now barely speak.

"Don't you fear the day
when this could all end?"

"That is why we are here
today," Faulken dropped his somber tone to an even more ominous and
disturbing level.

"Operations have escalated
in the past ten years,” Faulken continued. “Especially since the J.G.U. began
stepping up dome research programs and construction of production facilities.
Many were targeted and attacked. The escalation has been causing a growing
panic across a good portion of the European continent."

"We've received numerous
unofficial communiqués from the J.G.U.," Baldwin spoke again.
“‘Unofficially’ they've expressed grave concern that U.S. troops have been
illegally operating within their country and those of their allies. We’ve been
warned more than once that repercussions will be harsh."

"And what was our
‘unofficial’ response?" Ford peered apprehensively at his advisors from
behind where his head rested in his hands. He could feel the emptiness,
desperation and despair that was quickly overcoming his heart also starting to
throb behind his eyes.

"Simple denial,” Baldwin
responded. “We’ve never strayed from that. We've thrown them a few names of
known militant operatives in areas questioned and expressed our ‘concern’ about
the intentions of some of their neighboring countries."