Chapter 20: August 11th
U.S. North East Coast, Wednesday
Teddy seemed such an innocuous name for this monster, but that was the next name on the list so “Hurricane Teddy” it was. After being off the coast of Panama it had meandered in the depths of the Caribbean for a while, developing into a Category 5 hurricane. Then it set off on its path of destruction towards Jamaica. As it neared the coast it just kept strengthening, stunning the analysts at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) Hurricane Center. It passed through the yet to be formalized Category 6 and went straight on to the unofficial Category 7, with winds over 200 miles per hour. After it had finished with Jamaica, that island “looked like a nuclear bomb flattened the place” as one commentator remarked. Having weakened a little, it recharged over the warm waters on the way between Cuba and Hispaniola, leaving even more devastation in its wake. Then it continued onto the Bahamas, and the open waters of the Atlantic.
As it turned northwards, running parallel to the US Atlantic coast, a large northward expanse of warm water awaited it. Above eighty degrees Fahrenheit all the way to New Jersey, just warm enough to maintain its strength. The huge amounts of fresh water produced by the melting of the Greenland Ice Sheet had created a barrier across the Northern Atlantic, stopping the progression of the warm Gulf Stream waters. They backed up along the U.S. coast, providing a warm and nurturing environment to sustain Teddy. Those warm waters reached out with open arms, embracing Teddy as if they were those of a welcoming mother. Normally Teddy would have headed harmlessly north and eastwards far out into the Atlantic, but a major high over Greenland blocked that path. Instead, the Tri-State Region, where the states of New York, Connecticut and New Jersey meet, became a probable landfall.
“Looks just like the Hurricane Sandy setup”, in reference to the 2012 hurricane that came ashore in New Jersey, was a thought that had occurred to the NOAA analysts. The media had started referring to it as “Son of Sandy”, but as the warm waters maintained the monster it was obvious that the son was a very different creature than its parent. An amateur weather analyst had called it “Son of Satan” on his blog, and the name rapidly went viral. The Son of Satan was bearing down on New York City.
Brooklyn, New York, Wednesday
Julia, John, and the kids were getting used to their Park Slope neighbourhood. She had grown up in Queens and had never thought that she would be able to live in the “uber-expensive” Park Slope. The financial crash in the 2020s had brought property prices back to earth, with the government-enforced shrinkage of the financial industry making things doubly hard for all the expensive New York neighbourhoods. After having some of their deposits seized to rescue the big banks in the euphemistically termed “bail-in”, or “goddam theft” as others rightly called it, the U.S. populace wanted the financial industry properly bound and tied. That, or an outright revolution beckoned. Julia and Liam had decided to rent for a while; to make sure that everything in their lives was stable before making any big financial decisions. The kids loved the outings to Prospect Park, Coney Island, the local zoo, and travelling into the big city with their parents. Liam’s hours meshed nicely with hers, and the kids could also spend time with her sister’s family, and her parents, in Queens. School would start soon, which should bring lots of new friends and experiences for them. She did worry how they would take to their first winter, after the novelty of the snow wore off.
“Hi baby, looks like I may not be seeing you for a couple of days,” Liam’s voice echoed down the telephone “the department is taking no chances with the storm approaching. It’s everyone on deck. On the bright side, lot’s of overtime pay!”
Julia sighed, “Ok, you take care of yourself. I will drop the kids off with Marj for Thursday and Friday, then it will just be the three of us for the weekend”.
Liam paused, then “Watch the news reports, they are saying this one could be really bad and possibly do a direct hit on New York. Our place is well away from the water, but the winds could be incredible.”
Washington, White House Briefing Room, Thursday
Ashbridge entered the briefing room and took his seat.
“Mr. President”, Richard Jacobs the head of the NOAA hurricane tracking team started “thanks for taking the time for this briefing”. Ashbridge nodded appreciatively and motioned for the briefing to commence.
Jacobs had a round face, topped with greying hair and intelligent eyes covered with small, rectangular glasses. His disposition was as much that of a bureaucrat as that of a scientist. He continued, “We had expected Teddy to weaken significantly as it moved up the US coast, but the warmer than normal waters have allowed it to maintain itself as a Category 5. With the blocking high over Greenland, and the positioning of the Jet Stream, it looks like Teddy will take very much the same path as Sandy in 2012. A Washington-area landfall is definitely off the list now, with an area from Northern New Jersey to Long Island being the most likely area.”
Ashbridge sat back in his chair, “So, looks like we have a range of possibilities from worse than Sandy to the outright devastation of New York” he quipped. Richard, and all those sat around the table nodded in sad agreement. The President turned to Jim Anderson, “How much of this can be laid at the door of climate change?” he asked.
“Quite a lot” Jim replied “The waters off the U.S. coast are a lot warmer than they used to be due to the blocking of the Gulf Stream by the Greenland melt waters, and the general warming of the oceans. All that extra heat is what is maintaining the hurricane’s strength.”
“Richard, if this does hit New York straight on what are we looking at?”, asked Ashbridge.
“Anything below 15, or even 20, feet above sea level would be under water. JFK, La Guardia, Southern Manhattan, huge chunks of Brooklyn, Queens and Staten Island. All facing windows blown out, most roofs ripped off, cars airborne, electricity and communications cut off to millions. From the estimates I have seen, the need to rehouse perhaps a million people at least and damages of up to a trillion dollars. …”
“Ok, I think we get it Richard”, Ashbridge intervened. He addressed the table, “We are not going to have another New Orleans or Miami show of incompetence. I want every, every, resource that we have ready for this. From now on this is the control room for the hurricane response, and I will meet with you hourly until either the threat has passed or we have to deal with the disaster.” He turned to his communications manager, “once we have a better handle on this, I will need to address the nation.” She nodded in agreement. Then he motioned for input from the FEMA head, Jose Calabrez.
“The storm is travelling very fast, so we feel that it’s better to get people to safer ground rather than try evacuation. Better for New Yorkers to be sheltering on higher ground in Brooklyn, Queens and the West Side than caught in their cars in the open on the interstate. We have coordinated with the National Guard and the Armed Services to have all of the required resources ready to go once the winds have died down.”
The President nodded approval, “Thank you Jose, and thank you everyone”, before rising from his chair and exiting.
Brooklyn, New York, Friday Morning.
“Hi honey”, Julia smiled down the telephone, “no time for a conjugal visit, work was cancelled today and the kids are at my sisters’?”
John responded ruefully “I wish baby, but instead I get to carry sandbags and tape up windows. Looks like the worst of it is going to hit Atlantic City, so will be tough here but you guys should be warm and dry. The captain was saying that the really high areas that are facing the ocean would be very exposed to the winds, so better for you to be at your sister’s place in Queens. It could still be rough if it heads for the city, but you will be sheltered by the high points around Prospect Park.”
Julia nodded, “I hear ya, will grab what we need from here and spend the weekend with the family”.
With that John had to go “Sorry babe, but gotta go now. Love you.”
Washington, White House Briefing Room, Friday Afternoon
“It’s going straight past New Jersey sir, looks like we are getting the worst case scenario. Latest projections put the eye making landfall over Staten Island and passing just west of the New York harbour. The strongest winds will be hitting Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, and all along the Long Island coast. We have triggered all of our emergency plans and have issued statements across all media for people to shelter on higher ground, but not directly facing the storm front.” Calabrez informed the room, before pausing “We are still dealing with a category 5, Teddy has not weakened at all. Impact will be around 9am tomorrow morning.”
Richard Evans, the Treasury Secretary chimed in, “This is the worst case from a financial loss point of view, in the region of a trillion dollars. We will have to manage the fallout carefully, especially with the insurance industry only just recovering from Miami. It’s already been a big year for property damage with all the other storm events. The limitations we put on derivatives trading after the crash should help contain things, and some of the international reinsurers will take the biggest hits.”
Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York City, Friday Afternoon
As a steady torrent of rain fell from the sky, driven nearly sideways by the quickening wind, Julia and the kids made a run for the minivan. The large bags they were all carrying both weighed them down and got in their way. Julia told the car through her mobile to open the door so that they could all throw themselves, and their bags, into the safety of the interior after struggling through the rain. Emily and Liam, with their small bodies, made it in cleanly. Julia was not so lucky, tripping just as she reached the open door. Managing to keep upright, she launched herself through the opening. The bags went flying into the interior, as she managed to twist her body in the air to miss her daughter. Somewhere from deep inside a word escaped her control and connected with her mouth.
“Fuck”, rang out as she fell between the rows of seats. She lay there like a beached whale waiting for the inevitable from Emily.
“Mummy, that’s a bad word” her daughter said proudly.
Julia closed her eyes for a second to calm herself, breathed deeply, and responded, “That’s right Emily, I should not have said that” as she pulled herself up and then scrambled through to the front seats.
“Do you need any medical assistant madam” the vehicle asked politely.
“No that’s ok, please close the door and tell John that we are setting off for Queens” she responded, then “Liam, please move the bags to the back and then both of you get seated.” After she was properly seated, Julia turned to check that the children had their seatbelts on and then told the vehicle to start their journey. Once at the end of the street they met the legions of others making their escape from the high ground facing the oncoming hurricane.
Fire House, Manhattan, New York City, Friday Afternoon
John stood in the entrance to the fire station, taking a welcome rest after the endless hours of reinforcing the layers of sandbags that lay around the buildings in the financial sector.
“Geez, when you think of all the money they spent on that Dryline to protect downtown and it turns out that just wont be high enough. Once the waters overtop it there will be one hell of a waterfall” commented his friend Danny. He was a stocky Irishmen with the expanding mid-riff of a man happily married to a great cook.
“Yep” agreed John, “to think that I came here to escape the flooding in Florida, seems the guy upstairs has a wicked sense of humour when it comes to my family.”
“Julia and the kids ok, they are saying that Park Slope is going to get it hard?” asked Danny.
“Yep, she just messaged me to say that they are on their way to her sister’s in Queens. Thanks for asking. You know, these fucking bureaucrats, always planning for the last war rather than for the future ones. You’d think all those Phd’s would have worked out that the next one could be bigger than Sandy, then maybe they did and the politicians decided that they would go with the lower cost option. And who picks up the mess, working stiffs like you and me.”
Danny nodded, “we should nail those assholes to stakes atop the Dryline, the kind of feedback that they may actually respond to!” They both laughed heartily as they had visions of the politicians in their fancy suits desperately struggling to escape as the cold waters rose around them.
Now that would be real justice!
“Time for us to get back to Queens after all this work to save the rich bastards” said Danny, and they both turned to get ready to leave.
New York City, Saturday Morning.
The streets were strangely quiet as the trees strained to keep themselves attached to the ground. Everyone that could get out had, and the rest were huddled inside. Cars lifted off their springs as the wind continued to intensify; the already deadly load of projectiles in the air was joined by increasing amounts of broken glass and roofing tiles. Amid the deafening sound of the wind, the buildings creaked and groaned as they were stretched toward breaking point. More and more windows were blown out, and one by one the roofs started to lift into the air. It was not long before the air contained a menagerie of deadly weapons, from shards to glass to whole rooftops and flying cars. As gas mains broke, fires erupted with no one to fight them. Prospect Park became a tree graveyard, as the roots of the huge beasts lost their desperate battle to retain their grip upon the earth.
Down below, the waters in the harbour rose inexorably. Unlike with Sandy, there would be no news reporters standing at the bottom of Manhattan Island to report on the damage. Only the suicidal would have attempted such a thing in the face of the massive storm surge and up to 180 mile per hour wind gusts. Instead, automated cameras were placed in harm’s way to record the ongoing disaster. Millions watched around the world as the waters overtopped the Dryline and flooded into Manhattan. Within hours the city would become the new Venice, it’s roads beneath the surging waters of the Atlantic. The Statue of Liberty looking forlornly on from its waterlogged viewpoint.
Julia and the kids huddled with the rest of her family in the basement of her sister’s house in Queens, with only candles to lighten the darkness. The higher ground to the south provided some shelter from the winds, but the hurricane’s tail twisted around Long Island to provide a battering from the East as well. The noises above them were terrifying, and thankfully they had had enough headphones for all of the children to be listening to something else. The headphones could not keep out the vibrations of the house though, as it shuddered against the winds and took hits from flying debris.
“Thank god we got outbid on that house near the shoreline” her sister shouted “seems that someone was looking after us at that moment. Not so good for the other family of course.” The others decided not to continue the conversation, it was simply too hard to be heard above the roar of the wind, the creaking and groaning of the house, and the crash of flying debris. Not so far away, John and the crew were hunkered down in the fire station; trying to grab what little sleep they could in preparation for the hard work once the storm abated.
The eye of the storm passed Fort Hamilton next to the Verrazano Narrows bridge, entering New York Harbour, bringing its peak intensity to the city. It then travelled up the west side of Manhattan before heading further inland. The Dryline was now fully underwater as the Atlantic laid claim to the city. Not even the north of Manhattan was spared, as the waters of Long Island Sound were rammed into the Upper East Side. Further to the south, JKF and Le Guardia were 25 feet under water as were huge swathes of Staten Island, Brooklyn, East New York, Manhattan, Queens, The Bronx, Jersey City, and Long Island. The eye of the storm offered a short respite, then the backside hit and the winds changed direction. The devastation continued.
New York City, Sunday Afternoon
The Son of Satan had brought the proud city to its knees, vast areas were devastated and fires raged across the city, fed by broken gas lines, an endless supply of flammable debris and the still strong winds. As the winds died down, Julia and her sister managed to clamber through the wreckage of the house to the street outside. For a few moments they both stood surveying the damage around them.
“Geez, we were lucky” she thought to herself as she told her mobile to check for a signal.
No Signal
“Still no signal” stumbled from her mouth as she turned to her sister who nodded back resignedly. Then they heard a broken door across the street being pushed aside, as the Kowalski’s emerged from the wreck that had been their home. They were not alone.
John and his fellow firefighters struggled to contain the blaze that was consuming a city block. Thankfully, the water mains still seemed to be working and they doused the buildings across the street to stop them catching alight. The gentle thud of an explosion at the other end of the bock rumbled through the rain, as others demolished buildings to act as a firewall.
“Looks like we may be able to contain this one” Danny said as they kept the fire hose trained on the buildings.
“Yep”, replied John, “but this will be first of many”.
Danny smiled back ruefully, “too true brother.”
John noticed another fireman across the street, “any signal there?!” he shouted, to be met with a shaken head from the other fireman.
Chapter 21: August 18th
Lower Manhattan, New York City (2pm local time)
President Ashbridge walked up to the podium and waited for the applause to die down. As he waited, he surveyed the battered skyscrapers of Manhattan that towered above him. This was another opportunity for him to underline the severity of the situation to his fellow Americans, and the need for the radical actions that were planned. He would not waste the opportunity; grasping the sides of the podium he pushed out his chest and looked intensely across the crowd.
“It is with sadness that I come here today; sadness for those that have lost their loved ones, sadness for those that have lost their homes, and sadness for the destruction that this wonderful city has had to endure. I also come here with admiration though; for the fire fighters and other public servants that have worked so hard to limit the damage and loss of life, for the citizens of this proud city that have shown such great courage and perseverance, and for the spirit of our great nation that will make this city great again.” He turned and looked appreciatively at the group of firefighters and others that stood to his right, applauding them. The crowd joined in and the applause continued until he turned back to the podium and raised his arm to show that he was ready to continue.
“We must all remember though, that this is not a single incident. We are reaping the effects of our abuses of the Earth and its climate, and there will be many more calamities to come unless we double down on our efforts to forestall a wider catastrophe. We must also understand the new reality that we live within. New York cannot just be rebuilt as it was; it must be protected against the next great storm. Where it cannot, we must move people and property out of harms way, and where things cannot be moved we must accept the loss and move on. We must accept a realistic view of what is required, and what is already with us. This is a country built on expansive optimism, but that optimism must not turn into an escapist fantasy where technology will magically allow us to tame the Earth. Such beliefs will blind us to the actions, compromises and sacrifices that await us on our path to keep our great nation safe. We must continue to be a beacon of hope, and a source of leadership, to all the nations of the globe. We …”
Ashbridge felt a massive force hit his chest. As he flew backwards, something whistled past his ear and his mind wordlessly realized what was happening. Another blow to his torso, then his head hit the ground behind him. As the blackness engulfed his mind he could feel the bodies of his secret service detail protectively covering him. Then he was being lifted into the air and roughly carried away, then … blackness, nothing.
Relief Centre, Brooklyn, New York
“The President is down, it looks like he’s been shot”, shouted the breathless voice from the giant television screen strung across the wall of the gymnasium in Queens. A sudden gasp of silence was broken by unbelieving sighs, screams and cries. Julia hugged the children close to her, as she struggled to control her own emotions. This was too much; having to leave their beloved home in Miami, then the storm, and now this! Liam stood shocked and silent next to her, while the emotion welled up within Emily and burst out as the tears streamed down her face. Unable to take her eyes off the screen, she saw the President’s motionless body being carried into a helicopter that rapidly rose into the sky before turning over the waters of New York Harbour.
New York Harbour
The blackness receded a little and Ashbridge sensed the flight of the helicopter and the sounds of the hurried voices above the whirring of the blades above. Then the blackness surrounded him again.
Beijing, China (2:30am local time; 2:30pm in New York)
A still tired President Hufang stood in front of the large screen looking at the images of the helicopter wreckage. He had been sleeping soundly in his apartment when awaken by his aide to the news that there had been attempt on the life of the U.S. President. The drinks that he had shared with Chang were not helping his alertness.
“Strange that they would shoot down the Vice President’s helicopter as well as shooting the President, I thought the V.P. was an asset of the opposition. Would be better to have him alive and ready to take over I would have thought”, Chang questioned as he reclined in a comfortable chair.
Hufang nodded, “Yes, unless they wanted to cover their tracks by killing one of their own at the same time. Any news on whether or not Ashbridge is dead?” he asked of his aide who shook his head slowly. “Get the Foreign Minister on the line” Hufang requested firmly.
Moscow, Russia (9:30pm local time; 2:30pm in New York)
President Yazov pondered what the night would bring as he sipped the soft foam and cream of his Raf coffee, the mixture of espresso, whipped cream and syrup was perfect for the long hours that lay ahead. If Ashbridge survived relatively unharmed he would be able to whip up a vengeful and nationalist fervour that would both allow him to destroy his immediate enemies and drive through the changes required. In addition, the improved relationship between Russia and the U.S. would remain. Any other outcome would be highly unpredictable, especially with the death of the Vice President. That confused Yazov.
Why would the opposition kill such a major asset, especially when he would have automatically become President?
The many decades of experience in the corridors of power had taught him never to trust the surface representation of such events; there could always be deeper games at play. He was happy to be alone with his thoughts for a while; he needed time to think before he acted.
New York Harbour (3:15pm local time)
Ashbidge opened his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed in what appeared to be a ship, a dull pain coming from his chest and ribs.
“Welcome back Mr. President”, stated Jose Calabrez, “we can talk freely”.
Ashridge smiled, “how long was I out for?” he asked.
“Just over an hour, as planned we forestalled any hand-over of power by stating that you were conscious. The vest did its job, nothing worse than a couple of broken ribs. Now we need your signatures to implement the state of emergency and root out the opposition for good”.
Ashbridge allowed himself a satisfied smile, “That second bullet was unnervingly close to my head, I know that we needed it to look genuine but that felt a little too genuine! Seems we certainly picked the right marksmen for the job.” He laughed a little, but was stopped by the increasing pain. No morphine for him, that way no one else would be able to grab the reigns of power away when he most needed them.
“The First Lady is on her way to the ship, we have informed her that you suffered relatively minor injuries” Jose informed the President. Ashbridge felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that he had to fight back. He thought of the incredible pain that his wife and children must have felt as they saw the pictures of his shooting and imagined him to be dead. He needed them to believe this was real, that was the only way that the deception could be carried off. Once the lie had been told, perhaps he would never be able to tell them the truth.
“Make sure that Edmunds doesn’t make it to custody alive, once we cut off the head and show that we mean business, the rest of them will fold more easily. Also good to feed the odd billionaire traitor to the masses, and taint the election through his political financing activities.”
Jose nodded in agreement, “It will be done. The attack on the Vice President was successful, so you are free to put in your own man. Once you have spoken to the other major heads of state we do need to get you on air sir, to show the American people that you are alive and to legitimize the actions that we are going to take.”
“I won’t take long to prepare for the speech, the more hastily prepared it looks the better” was Ashbridge’s response.
Beijing, China (3:30am local time; 3:30pm in New York)
“So, the President is alive and relatively unharmed. Strange that a couple of crack marksmen would aim straight for his bulletproof vest and not use armour-piercing rounds. Then his enemies kill one of their own by shooting down the Vice-Presidential helicopter, stopping their own asset from becoming President. When things don’t seem quite right they usually are not”, Hufang commented to Chang.
“What are you thinking may have happened?” Chang asked.
“Who benefits the most from these events?” came back a question in the tone of a professor testing a student. Chang took a little while to carefully think before answering, something that he had learnt was required so as not to be too easily contradicted by his senior.
“Ashbridge will certainly gain massive support from the American people for whatever actions he takes against those that have plotted against him. He also gets to replace the V.P. with his own man, making a future assassination attempt much less beneficial to his enemies. Under the circumstances he could even extend his period in office by delaying the elections. His opponents seem to have very much scored an own goal. It doesn’t make sense for them to take this amount of risk and not make sure of good execution; extra shooters, armour piercing bullets, an attack on the helicopter taking him away, an inside man to shoot him up close. The killing of the V.P. also does not make sense, it eliminates a prize asset.” He pondered his words, then startled by his own realization he blurted out “a false-flag?”
Hufang smiled appreciatively, happy at the progress of his student. “Yes, exactly. A brilliant move by Ashbridge to allow him to remove his enemies, stay in power, and gain the widespread support needed to push through the changes that were agreed to in New Zealand. So clever, Machiavelli would be proud! I certainly underestimated his cunning and cold calculation,” he said as he shook his head in admiration. The aide came back into the room holding a mobile phone “the U.S. President is on the line”. Hufang smiled, “I will have to share my happiness that Ashbridge survived such a brutal attack by his enemies, and share my condolences for his Vice President’s death” he said sarcastically as he took the telephone, unmuted it, and motioned for the others to remain quiet.
Moscow, Russia (10:40pm local time; 3:40pm in New York)
Dmitry had joined Yazov in his oasis of calm; they both smelt that something was not quite right with the day’s events.
“Those shots look very real, no way that you can fake the impact from high-powered bullets on live television. So many different cameras from so many different angles, no amateur Zapruder film to confuse things with this attempted assassination. Ashbridge really hits the deck hard.” Dmitry stated while watching repeated reruns of the bullets hitting the U.S. President.
“You think that he would really take such a risk to gain advantage?” he queried as he turned and looked at Yazov, who was of the same mind, “Made to look like a professional hit, but the hit wasn’t that professional; no head shots, no armour piercing bullets, no backup plan. It should either be made to look like a lone gunmen, or professionally and competently executed, this is neither one nor the other. How were they allowed to gain access to the shooting points? Then they kill their prize asset, the Vice President?” The two men nodded to each other knowingly.
“Even Stalin could not have come up with something so underhanded!” Yazov laughed in admiration
“And the balls of the man to go through with it!” Dmitry replied.
A soft knock was heard against the door, “the U.S. President is on the line President Yazov.” He replied curtly and then strode toward the telephone on the desk.
“I will have to congratulate him on his miraculous survival of such a dastardly plot!” he stated as he paused before picking up the receiver.
New York Harbour (3:45pm local time)
Samantha straightened her husband’s tie and caressed his face before wishing him luck, “show the sons of bitches who is still the boss” she said in a tone both stern and soft.
“I love you” Ashbridge said and he kissed her lips gently.
“Now I will have to get my lipstick off your lips” she replied with a sense of playful annoyance as she reached for a tissue.
“Ready when you are Mr. President” they were informed by the secret service agent.
Relief Centre, Brooklyn, New York (4pm local time)
“This is a live feed from the crash site of the Vice President’s helicopter, we are getting official confirmation that it was shot down using a ground to air missile”, came the voice from the television as pictures of wreckage strewn across a field filled the screen. Then the image of the newscaster returned. She tilted her head slightly, intently listening to something, and then raised her focus back toward her invisible audience. “We have been informed that although the President has been injured he is able to make an address to the nation, and we are transferring our coverage to that aircraft carrier Nimitz in New York Harbour.”
The image on the screen changed to show a modest desk, with two American flags flanking it on either side and the presidential seal directly behind; sitting on the deck of the U.S. aircraft carrier. The flags swayed in the breeze, as the stern faces of the ranks of military men looked on stoically from behind. Suddenly a cheer and applause broke out and the camera panned across to show the President gently kissing his wife before walking uncomfortably toward the desk. He stopped for a moment and turned to acknowledge the welcome of the massed ranks, before catching himself in an obvious response to a spasm of pain. The sound of applause and clapping died as fast as it had started.
“Mummy is the President hurt?” asked Emily in a hushed voice.
“Shush” was the only reply.
After collecting himself the President strode purposefully, but still uncomfortably, forward before lowering himself into the chair behind the desk. Everything was quiet, apart from the gentle swaying of the flags. The President’s eyes looked out sternly to the unseen millions that were awaiting his message.
“My fellow Americans, there are dark forces among us. Forces that would subvert our great nation to further their own wealth and power, forces that do not want to give their fair share in the struggles ahead to protect our homeland; treasonous forces that think nothing of assassinating your President. It is time to root out these traitors, who have shown their true colours today. There can be no compromise; they will be met with the full force of the security and armed forces. I ask of every one of you to rally to the defence of this great nation we call America, to defeat those that would overthrow our democracy and our freedoms. Given the depth of the threat, I have placed the country in a state of emergency and suspended the elections. I hope that we will be able to move back to normality as soon as possible, but the defence of our nation must come first. To those abroad I remind you that true friends become known in such moments, and real enemies revealed. You must decide which you want to be, as we will remember those that did not extend the hand of friendship.”
The President paused for a few moments, introspectively, before returning his gaze to the audience. His tone softened, “It is obvious that I am in some pain” he stated as a fleeting smile crossed his face “My bullet proof vest saved me, but the impact of the bullets did crack a couple of my ribs. As a result all of my staff have been ordered not to tell jokes around me; funny ones at least.”
A wry smile broke out across his face before the more serious look returned. “My thoughts go out to the family of Vice President Emerson, his great gifts and presence will be sorely missed. It is with great sadness that I replace him with General Alexander McAdams, a man who has served his country with great courage and dedication.”
Again, the President paused. “I am the President of this great country, and I am in full control. Our enemies have failed, and now they will be vanquished. God Bless our freedoms, God Bless our great nation, God Bless America!” As he looked out at the millions through countless screens across the world the first notes of the National Anthem could be heard and he raised himself to his feet, placing his hand over his heart. The camera panned back to reveal the massed ranks of servicemen who surrounded the President, singing the anthem.
Everyone in the relief centre spontaneously joined in, both relieved to see the President alive and determined to help him root out those that would endanger their great nation and the freedoms that it provided. Pride welled up inside Julia, and belief in a man that was so human but also such a great leader; a leader to be proud of, a leader to be followed, a leader to be trusted.
In the days that followed many of those that had worked so hard to put in place the means to scapegoat and harass others for their own benefit now found the very apparatus that they had built turned upon themselves. The enemy was no longer “Muslims”, “Immigrants”, “The Chinese”, “White Militias’ or “Activists” – it was the obstructive elite that stood in the way of those that deemed action necessary for survival. The progressive elites had won, and they would feed their elite enemies to the people in a wave of populist retribution that would wash away all resistance and cleanse their own guilt. The path was now cleared for the actions that had been agreed upon in New Zealand.
Hmm... I used to live in DUMBO (down underneath Manhattan Bridge), right on the bank of the East River in Brooklyn.