McCutcheon rose from his chair, cracked his back, and stood up. There were more people than usual in the comms room, and McCutcheon shouldered his way past the radio jockeys, satellite uplink personnel, and the eggheads who worked on encryption software so that no one who was listening would be able to make heads or tails of what was coming in and going out of the comms room... not that there were a whole heck of a lot of people listening these days.
Their jaws were slack, and most of them sported the same look as the officer who had woken him up. He saw what they were looking at, took a second to lock onto the words that were being spoken, and then he too produced the same face.
****
It was The Speech. In the days that would come, as the world dwindled and humans fought to avoid the same fate as the dinosaurs, the dodo bird, and dial-up internet, the few remaining people would remember it as the day that The President gave a eulogy for the entire world. Those cities that still had power, but little else, were allowed to view the message on their TV's. Those cities that didn't have power would never hear the words, but they would spread by mouth. It was the day of all days, the day the world stopped pretending it could recover. Everyone in the military would see it, those that weren't dead or walking around the world trying to eat others.
Over campfires, survivors would stoop and whisper to each other in hushed tones that wouldn't attract any of the dead, "Did you hear The Speech?"
This is how it went:
The President appeared, a thin man from Jackson, Mississippi... gray around his temples that hadn't been there in the first two years of service. He had a preacher's face. He was not what one would call handsome, more... authoritarian, like those austere and severe photos of the Founding Fathers disseminated in textbooks.
On this day, he was dressed all in black. He stood in front of gray, nondescript walls built from cold, unforgiving cinder blocks. He stood not in behind a fancy podium with the Presidential Seal on it, but behind a plain lectern like one you might find in a second-rate community college. Sweat stood on his brow, and he wore no make-up so that the viewers could clearly see the bruisish bags under his eyes. He did not smile. He was not trying to get re-elected. He spoke as himself, honestly, perhaps since the first time he had run for public office in middle school.
"We all fall down from time to time. For years, the human mantra has been 'We will get back up.' It's a good mantra, and it worked for a while. My advisors have apprised me of the situation in the United States and throughout the entire world. Many of you watching this can look out your window and see the situation with your own eyes. You don't need me to tell you that it's not looking good.
Some of you have been waiting for us, the government, perhaps even myself to right the ship. Well, I'm here today to tell you that it's simply not going to happen. We all fall down, even governments... even myself."
The President held his hand up to show a wound. By now, everyone could recognize the familiar shape of a human bite.
"My advisors have recommended one last-ditch effort at saving the United States. They want me to unleash our own nuclear arsenal on the United States. They want me to drop bombs on the heaviest population centers, destroying a good portion of the country and the reanimated that now infest it."
The President paused as if to let the words sink in, and for everyone trapped in a large city, the words did sink in.
"But knowing what I know now, now that my own time has come, I simply can't follow through on their recommendation. If there was a way for me to fight this, I would do so until my very last breath. I will not rob Americans of that same opportunity. So I say to you, the people that have made this life so worth living, we all fall down... but now it's time to get up and fight."
Hope filled those that were listening, a resolve that many hadn't felt since the Twin Towers fell. The country had never been as united as it had since that fateful day... and yet only five percent of the surviving population had the opportunity to even see The Speech.
"Martial law is over. I want to thank our armed forces for sacrificing and defending this country and its citizens. Now it's time to take care of yourselves and your own families. The government is dead, the military is disbanded, and it is up to each of us to defend ourselves in the manner that we best see fit. Good luck to you all. I only wish I would be there to see it all en, and to see the human race triumph over the greatest challenge we've ever faced. Good night, and may God watch over us all."
The camera cut, but the sound did not. A hollow voice appeared as if from the depths of a tin can, "You want us to do it now?"
The President's voice crisp and clear responded, "I'll do it myself. Give me the damn gun."
There was silence, and then a click. The President spoke one last time, "Tell my wife and daughter I love them, and try and keep them safe." The boom of the gun blew out the microphone that The President was using, but it didn't matter. No one else would be speaking. Showtime was over, and around the country, soldiers and citizens turned off their TV sets, hoping that they could be as brave as The President was in his final moments.
###
About the Author
The Vocabulariast is a Native American author who has been writing and teaching in Portland, Oregon for decades. After working on his own website Moviecynics.com for a decade, The Vocabulariast decided to move on from critiquing other's works of art and start creating his own. His first book is entitled Unmade: A Neo-Nihilist Vampire Tale. His second novel is entitled: This Rotten World, and it is the first part of a planned trilogy. In addition to novels, The Vocabulariast is known to write screenplays and make movies.
Also Available from The Vocabulariast
Fiction:
Unmade: A Neo-Nihilist Vampire Tale
This Rotten World
This Rotten World: We All Fall Down (Late 2015)
Non-Fiction:
Let's Get Drunk and Watch Horror Movies: 50 Horror Movie Reviews and Drinking Games
Music:
The All Hell Breaks Loose Soundtrack
Movies:
All Hell Breaks Loose
Connect with The Vocabulariast
Follow me on Twitter at: http://twitter.com/Vocabulariast
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Follow Me on My Blog: http://thevocabulariast.blogspot.com/
This Rotten World (Book 2): We All Fall Down Page 23