Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) (25 page)

Ted nodded.  “Sure, sure.  We’ve been
having them there at sunset every night since the…since the lights went out,”
he said.  “Might as well.”

“Is it safe?  Are there more out there? 
What if they come here too?” a high nervous voice asked.

Before Ted could respond, someone else
spoke up, “What are we going to do?”

The mumbling started to turn into a
louder rumble.  Ted, trained as a Marine and a Sheriff’s deputy, could well
recognize the workings of panic on the group mentality.  Fear spread,
then…”Okay, we’ll talk about that tonight.  We’re all pretty keyed up.  How’s
about everyone go home and attend to you own families.  Everyone try to think
up ways we can protect ourselves in case this happens again…think about
anything you can to help the community.  Tonight we’ll tell you everything we
know about what happened here and what we can all do to make this place as safe
as possible.”

He held his breath until it looked like
the group began to accept his plea.  People in the back began melting away and
slowly heading towards the pool or their own apartments.  As more people left,
the rest of the group started flowing away.  One family was actively trying to
convince people to leave.

“All I’m saying is,
this
,” the
balding middle-management executive said to his friend, pointing towards the
bodies of the ground.  “This is enough for me.  We’re getting the hell out of
here before someone
else
gets killed.  You can’t have people running
around with swords and guns, for Christ’s sake!  What do they think this is,
New Orleans?”   To forestall the response, he continued, “And you’d be smart to
do the same—think of your kids, John!”

The other man shrugged and tried to
argue that he’d at least wait and see what happened at the meeting tonight, but
Erik lost the other man’s response as the two men and their families moved
towards the pool and out of hearing.

Ted turned around, situation under
control again and looked at the two bodies, then Erik with his bloodied
Japanese sword. 

“What the hell
are
we gonna do?”
he said quietly.

I
T WAS 2:32PM in Amman, Jordan when the
dirty white delivery truck rolled to a stop at a crowded intersection in the
Arab nation’s capital city.  Pedestrians crowded the streets.  The driver
yawned.

“Looks like another celebration…”
observed the sleepy driver, smiling.  If he were not awakened in the middle of
the night to take this mission, he might be one of the masked men out there
with an AK-47, chanting and dancing in the streets at the downfall of America. 
The fact that there were international TV reporters on the scene documenting
the excitement only encouraged the demonstrators to more and more showboating.

The navigator, engrossed in prayer now
and sweating, had ignored the driver for the past two hours.  “I said, do you
not see the celebration?”

The navigator unclenched his eyes and
focused them on his ‘partner’.  “Celebrating what?” he asked weakly.  His face
dripped with sweat.  His stomach was doing summersaults in his abdomen.  He was
almost quaking with nervous energy.

The driver laughed.  “Have you not heard
anything in the past week?  America is dying, my friend!  It is a great time to
be alive!” he said, clapping his feverish looking partner on the back as they
waited for the massed demonstrators to clear the road.  The driver stuck his
head out the window, chanting and screaming with the rest, pumping his fist in
praise of Allah.

The navigator looked at his watch,
shaking his head. 

Idiot.  You interrupt my prayers for
this?  America’s downfall will only be the first.  All of the Satanic West is
about to fall.
 

The digital watch didn’t show the time,
it was set to timer mode, counting down the hours, minutes and seconds until
his mission, and his life, were complete. 
27 seconds…praise be to
Allah…grant me mercy for fulfilling your word, Merciful Allah.
  The
navigator blinked back his tears of joy.  He was about to pull off the greatest
feat in the history of Al Qaeda.

15 seconds…

The driver was giving a loud and
impromptu interview to an interested camera crew from the BBC.  The navigator
had just enough time to look up with glory-clouded eyes and smile for the
camera before he died as the timer on his watch struck zero. 

Inside the cargo hold of the truck, the
enriched uranium nuclear device detonated.  The spherical blast charge imploded
the fissionable material so quickly that the only release for the energy was
after the bomb reached critical mass in a fraction of a second and erupted into
a ball of pure white energy.  The roughly 2 kiloton ‘bomb’ instantly created a
crater just over 200 feet wide and close to 40 feet deep.  All the surging
throngs of militant Jordanians, who were just a split second before celebrating
the downfall of America turned to ash in the atomic fire.  The entire event
lasted less than a second.

The blast wave erupted from the
vaporized atomic device swept clean the crowded city for about a mile in all
directions, flattening all the brick, mortar and sandstone buildings and
ripping apart everything in its path.  Glass and debris was pushed ahead of the
blast wave like a storm surge of deadly missiles, peppering and shredding
buildings, people and vehicles.   Anyone unfortunate enough to be looking
towards the center of Amman when the bomb went off would be blind for life by
the searing heat and intense light of the blast.

One mile from the explosion the
survivors lived long enough to see the blast wave approach.  Racing outwards at
the speed of sound the shockwave blew them through the air at 20 feet per
second, flinging bodies, cars and bits of buildings through the streets like
paper.

Quickly rising up over the city,
towering like a giant evil mushroom, the cloud formed.  It cast a menacing
shadow of death over the shocked and eviscerated Jordanian capital city.

O
KAY, TELL ME we got some good news this
morning,” said the President, taking his second cup of coffee and sitting down
at the head of the War Room conference table.  He still was not used to being
this deep inside a mountain.  “I’ve been informed that the D.C. Police are no
longer able to contain the riots, even with the National Guard.  People,” he
said, looking around at the monitors in front of him.  “I don’t want to end up
being the President who was run out of town by a bunch of looters.  Now what
have you got for me?”  Most of the faces that peered back at him were tired and
scared.

“Well, sir, we’re getting word out of
Texas,” said the Secretary of Homeland Security from across the massive table.

“Hank,” the President warned with a
hand.  “Tell me it’s good.  Please.”

“It is,” SecDHS leader said with an odd
smile.  “In a way.”

“What happened?” sighed the President. 
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.  Too early for  bad news.

“The rioting in Houston and Austin has
been put down.”

The President sat up.  “Put down?  How? 
What do you mean, ‘put down’?”

“Well, Governor Santos was afraid for
the Legislature’s safety.  He did something rather rash.  Signed an order
allowing for the deputation of all legally armed citizens in Houston and
Austin.”

“That would mean that anyone with a gun
in those cities became an agent of the state government…” mused the Secretary
of Defense.

“It’s unprecedented, but…technically
yes, that’s what happened.  He nearly doubled the size of his National Guard
forces by adding those armed citizens already in the occupied cities,”
concurred SecDHS.

“Wait—what’s this about ‘occupied’?”
asked the President testily.  “This is rioting, not an invading army.”

“Of course, sir.  It’s just that…well,
some of our soldiers are referring to the cities as ‘occupied’….and the term’s
been picked up by the state governments.  Makes it easier to do what they have
to do.  Slip of the tongue, sir.  Sorry.”  Suthby’s face said he was anything
but sorry. 

“Is it really that bad?”  The President
frowned.  “No—just tell me what happened in Texas.”

“Yessir…once the news spread that anyone
legally carrying a firearm was deputized, all hell broke loose.  In a matter of
a few hours early this morning, the rioters were dispersed.  Seems the rioters
lost an awful lot of their own when the citizens started fighting back on the
inside and our soldiers attacked from the outside.  A giant city-wide pincer.”

The President slapped his hand down on
the table with a grin from ear to ear.  “Now
that
kind of initiative is
what we need more of, people!  Damn fine job—cleaned up the mess on his own,”
the President beamed.  Then his face clouded.  “But why weren’t the civilians
fighting back in the first place, if they had so many guns?  I sure as hell
know I would.”

“Well, sir, most people we’ve been able
to talk to so far—we’re investigating whether or not to recommend this tactic
to the other governors affected…“ the Secretary for Homeland Defense said as an
aside.  “So far we’ve been told they were afraid to do anything because they’d
be in
legal
trouble once things quieted down.  When the Governor cleared
that burden away by deputizing them…well…” the DHS Secretary shrugged.   He
looked disappointed in the outcome.

“Looks like the good people of Texas had
about enough of this rioting bullshit,” SecDef said.  He folded his arms across
his ample chest and grinned.

“There was significant loss of life, Mr.
President.  Both the rioters and the deputized citizens suffered heavy
casualties, though we’re still working on the numbers.  We’re giving you an
early estimate of close to three thousand…” began Suthby.

“All those citizens dead…my—“

“No sir.  That was just the rioters.  We
don’t have an accurate number on just how many citizen-deputies there were,
yet.”

“Good Lord, look at that nonsense,” said
the image of the Secretary of State, pointing towards an off-screen digital
display at his own secret location. 

The screen everyone turned to depicted a
BBC news cast, showing scenes from Jordan of an anti-American demonstration in
Amman.  American flags burning, people dancing on the flames, others waving
Jordanian and Palestinian flags.

“Laugh it up, assholes…laugh it up,”
remarked the Free World’s leader sarcastically.  “Any news on who hit us yet?”
he asked over his shoulder to the National Security Advisor sitting at the
conference table. 

“If
these
jackasses had anything
to do with it—“ began the SecDef’s image.

The screen focused on a truck driver
sticking his head out the window of a white delivery truck, joining in the
celebration.  Before the President could finish his sentence, the television
screen went white and then black, confusing both the President and the British
anchorman.

“
Uh…Ah…sorry…Our most sincere
apologies about that
,” said the Brit, effectuating timeless English class
while covering up his channel’s SNAFU.  “
Appears we’re having a spat of
trouble with the signal from Amman…I’m getting word
…” he put a finger to
his hidden ear piece.  “
Ah.  Yes—well it seems we have another crew ready to
report on the outskirts of Amman…and we go live there, now
.”

The screen flickered, cut through some
static then the camera focused on something no one had seen since the horrific
summer of 1945.  The audio feed from the second camera crew wasn’t up-linked,
but the video came in crystal clear.  The scene was something out of a nightmare
of biblical proportions.  The ravaged city of Amman was centered on the screen,
with a huge, threatening snake of a mushroom cloud creeping up and out from
downtown.  The cameraman shook in fear, causing the image to blur.  Then it
rapidly zoomed out to give the impression of size as the cloud towered above
the city.  The image was still shaky.

“
God have mercy
…” said the
shocked anchorman’s, voice.

No one said a word in the War Room, all
eyes transfixed on the image of the mushroom cloud floating above Amman.  The
President put his coffee down absent mindedly on the edge of the table with his
eyes glued to the display.  The cup fell to the floor with crash—the only sound
in the room.  He slowly pulled himself away from the screen, looking at the
National Security Advisor.  She stared at the screen, mouth open in shock.

Only the Secretary of Defense spoke. 
“Well, I will be dipped in
shit
,” he said with a straight face, taking
his glasses off.  “Who in the
hell
would nuke
Jordan
of all
places?” he asked the room.

All heads swiveled to the President. 

“Israel,” he said, frowning, his fists
clenched.  “But why
now
?  Dammit, get me the Israeli Prime Minister on
the phone.”  In seconds, a phone was handed to the President, connection
established.  When a nuclear device was detonated in your backyard and the
President of the United States called, you answered the phone.

“
I swear
to you on the life of my daughter, Israel did not do this horrible thing!
”
said the Israeli Prime Minister heatedly over the secured speakerphone.

The President leaned back in his chair,
looking at a monitor that showed the streets of Washington, D.C. out the
windows of the abandoned White House.  He looked towards the smoke rising in
the distance, outside the security perimeter thrown up around the nation’s
capital complex.  Something on fire sailed past the window.

“Look, Ben, I believe you…you don’t have
to convince me, but—”

“
You are the only one then!  Have you
seen what those…
” the Prime Minister rattled off something the President
couldn’t understand.  “
What they
said?
  King Hussein says we did it
and they have proof!  How can they have proof, I ask you?  It’s only been a few
minutes!  The Palestinians have gone wild—I…the Saudis and their cohorts have
already begun to mass armies on their borders.  They were just waiting for an
excuse to invade.  This is a set up—they have planned this, I tell you. They’re
all going to start a war!
”  The prime Minister spat.

“Look, Ben, if there’s anything we can
do—“

“
You
can
do something.  Do
not
recall your forces!  We need your protection.  Without American military
presence, there’s going to be nothing holding them back.  I tell you, they will
attack us soon!”

“Ben, I’ve ordered our forces home to
deal with our own problems, but I’ll have a carrier battlegroup stationed in
the Med.  I’m sorry, but I can’t spare more.”

There was silence on the other end of
the phone.  President watched the black smoke in the distance on the monitor
screen, like so much smog hovering over the ground, as it smeared the blue sky
like oil in water.

“
Is it really as bad as they say?”
 
The question was asked in a quiet, not unkind voice.

The President sighed.  “Ben, it’s
worse.”

“
Of course you have the thoughts and
prayers of Israel with you, my friend
.”

“Thank you—America thanks you, Ben. 
We’re going to need it.”

“
Is there nothing we can do?”
asked the Israeli leader.

The President nearly choked.  He had
never, in all his life expected to be asked that question by any foreign
nation, let alone a tiny nation that America had nearly single-handedly
supported since its creation…America was the world’s only super-power.  America
needed help from no one, because America helped others, not the other way around. 

What’s the world coming to?

“No…no, Ben, on behalf of our people, I
thank you, but there’s not much anyone can do at the moment.  We’re just
dealing with internal issues.  That’s all.”

“
And this is why you are pulling your
military out of most of the world and sending them home?”

“That’s just precautionary, Ben.  I will
not take chances with the safety of my nation.”

“
I agree completely.  That is why I
am mobilizing the army and air force today.  We will not be caught off guard
.”

“Dammit, Ben, tell me you’re not going
to launch a pre-emptive strike?”

“
Why do you ask?  You did the same
thing in Iraq, Lebanon, and Syria, no?”
asked the Israeli bitterly.  The
voice sighed.  “
No.  No, will we not launch a pre-emptive strike.  But I
will hold a news conference within the hour to let the world know that we did
not launch this attack, nor will we stand by whistling in the breeze while our
enemies prepare for a war we do not want.  If they strike at Israel, we will
use
all
necessary force to defend ourselves
.”

The President paused.  “Ben, I think it
would be prudent to hold off on ‘all’ necessary force.  After all, we don’t
know—“

“
Someone used a nuclear weapon
against Jordan.  Someone has one, they may have more.  Everyone knows
we
have them.  Everyone will soon know we are not afraid to
use
them.  I am
sorry, my friend, but I cannot let politics and fear of offending a bunch of
war-hungry Arabs deter me from protecting the people of Israel.  Not any more.
”

“I’ve sent my condolences to Jordan,
Ben.  I have also asked them and their neighbors to hold off on any hasty
responses.  I’m trying to get them to go through the United Nations to buy us
some time to figure out this mess.”

“
I trust the U.N. as far as I can
spit.  They are run by our enemies and will continue to stop us from protecting
ourselves.  Israel will not listen to the U.N. now—their delaying tactics will
not work on us
.”

The President caught the hidden
meaning.  “They delayed us then, Ben, but things have changed.  I—“

There was a heated conversation the
President couldn’t quite hear coming from the other end of the phone.  Suddenly
the Prime Minister returned to the line, his voice strained and full of
anxiety.

“
I told you!  I have just been
informed the Saudi Army has crossed the border and entered southern Jordan. 
They are going to start a war!  I must see to Israel’s defense.  Good day, my
friend, and may God bless both our troubled lands
.”

“Ben, wait!  Ben? 
Ben
!  Damn it
all!” the President slammed his phone down on the receiver.  “He hung up on me!”
exclaimed the President.  “Who the hell hangs up on the President of the United
States?”

The SecDef’s image grinned as he
adjusting his glasses.  “Sir, someone who’s got a million screaming Arabs ready
to wipe his country off the face of the Earth.  With all due respect, we’ve got
a million screaming blacks right here wanting to do the same thing.”

“A million?”

“Well…just a figure of speech, sir, but
it’s probably more,” said the Defense Department Chief.  “Mr. President, I’ve
got reports from our forces overseas.  The Navy’s got our carrier battlegroups
headed home, except the
Roosevelt
—she’s still in the Eastern Med.  We
just pulled the
Enterprise
and her group off station.  We can have her
hold position.”