“Yes, Colonel?”
Tennison stood at attention as he cleared his throat. The general braced himself for more bad news.
“Sir…we have reports of three more coordinated attacks. Two more in Texas along the southern border, another just outside the naval base perimeter in San Diego, and the last one we know of so far took place in New York.”
The general’s eyes widened.
“New York? I thought we had that place locked down tight?”
The colonel shrugged, something General Thompson noted his aide had been doing more and more of late.
“It’s a city of millions. Yes, you ordered nearly twelve thousands soldiers into New York to stabilize it and the surrounding areas, but twelve thousand cannot possibly succeed in keeping millions more entirely safe.”
The general lowered his eyes to the pair of hands he had folded tightly atop the simple, handcrafted oak desk that resided in the Camp Davidstudy General Thompson was using as his personal office. The desk had resided in the study for the last six decades, first brought there by Jacqueline Kennedy in 1961 and used frequently by her husband until his death by assassination two years later.
“How many?”
Colonel Tennison shifted on his feet, betraying his discomfort.
“Colonel, I asked you how many.”
The colonel cleared his throat again and then answered.
“Current estimates put fatalities at just over a thousand in New York alone with possibly half as many casualties in San Diego and fewer still along the border. The methods of attack were the very same as Fort Hood – a dirty bomb. The residual injuries will likely be much higher. The people are panicked. The situation is getting increasingly…tenuous.”
Silence enveloped the small study, broken only by the sound of a military helicopter passing overhead.
“Permission to speak frankly, General.”
Thompson grunted to himself softly. He already knew what Tennison was going to suggest.
Protocol X - I won’t do it. I won’t be responsible for turning my back on all of those people. I won’t be the one to sentence so many of them to a death of their own making. There has to be a better way.
“I don’t want to hear one word about Protocol X, Colonel Tennison - not-one-goddamn-word.”
Tennison tensed, his eyes flashing his disappointment. He had been reminding the general of Protocol X repeatedly for the last week.
“Sir, all due respect, but I’m not here to tell you what you want to hear.”
The general glared at his aide, surprised at how forcefully the colonel persisted in getting him to reconsider his views on the subject of Protocol X.
“And I’m not interested in listening to your version of what you think I need to hear, Colonel Tennison. Is that understood?”
Tennison’s voice lowered to a barely audible whisper.
“Sir, yes sir.”
General Thompson opened one of the many file folders strewn across his desk and motioned for Colonel Tennison to take a seat across from him.
“How about you tell me what we are doing with operatives running around in the woods of the Shawnee Forest along the Illinois and Kentucky border?”
Tennison’s eyes blinked rapidly before he recovered from the shock of the general’s question.
“That involves the officer who we believe murdered several people recently including some of our own FBI officials - the one in Marion.”
The general closed the folder while silently noting how the colonel’s eyes strained to see what information it contained.
“According to this field report we have surveillance out there, choppers, an extraction team…it seems like a lot of resources for just one man.”
Tennison shrugged, struggling to appear indifferent.
“He murdered a lot of people. I assumed he was a high priority.”
The general paused while trying to determine if his aide was lying to him or was simply ignorant of the very information the general had until recently known nothing about.
“Those agents who were killed…were you aware they were all former EPA field officers?”
The colonel shook his head and then shrugged once again.
“Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t recall reviewing the deceased agents’ personnel files. Why does it matter?”
The general’s eyes held the colonel’s much like a predator would its soon to be prey.
“I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t. Just seems a bit peculiar, don’t you think? All the same agents transferring from one agency to another at the very same time?”
Tennison took a deep breath and then folded his arms across his chest.
“You want me to look into it?”
General Thompson continued to stare directly into the colonel’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if he saw outright deception there, but he sensed something wasn’t quite right about the situation involving the rogue Marion, Illinois police chief.
“No, I’m sure you have plenty on your plate already, Colonel.”
Though Tennison’s mouth offered a brief smile, his eyes held no warmth.
“Speaking of which, we have this afternoon’s meeting to attend. Most of the other Joint Chiefs will be there, NSA, Homeland Security, as well as a representative from the administration.”
The general grunted, having momentarily forgotten the president had earlier demanded someone from his administration be allowed to attend the weekly debriefings by the nation’s Martial Law command and control figures.
“Who are they sending?”
Tennison again tried to appear nonchalant but the general saw through the attempted ruse.
“Uh, someone by the name of Dr. Fenwick Sage.”
The general’s head tilted slightly to the right as his lips turned downward slightly into a scowl.
“Fenwick Sage? Never heard of him.”
The colonel shifted in the dark leather chair that sat opposite the general’s desk.
“He’s been with the administration since the beginning, highly regarded apparently.”
General Thompson’s eyes narrowed as he considered the possible reasons for Tennison’s less than honest interaction with him. Certainly the colonel was hiding what he knew regarding Dr. Sage.
“Is he a Cabinet member?”
Tennison appeared to almost wince as he considered how best to respond to the question.
“Not officially, but his office has been considered to have the same powers as a Cabinet member going back several prior administrations.”
The general knew he was finally breaking through at least some of the colonel’s intended mystery regarding Dr. Fenwick Sage.
“And what office is that, Colonel?”
Colonel Tennison knew he had allowed himself to be led into a verbal trap, but also knew at that point there was no way of avoiding giving a less than honest response.
“It’s my understanding Dr. Sage is the head of the Environmental Protection Agency, General.”
General Thompson smirked back at his aide.
“I’d consider that rather peculiar wouldn’t you, Colonel?”
Tennison scowled as he cleared his throat.
“I can’t really say, General.”
The general’s eyes dropped to the top of his desk and remained there.
“Dismissed, Colonel Tennison.”
The colonel rose quickly from the chair, saluted, and then left the small study making certain to close the door behind him as he did so.
General Thompson was grateful for the time alone.
He had work to do.
Four hours later…
General Thompson arrived at the makeshift Camp David tactical operations center which during more normal times would have been the compound’s primary dining room.
As promised the other members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff were there, as well as the NSA and Homeland Security directors.
The man the general knew by then to be Dr. Fenwick Sage already sat at the head
of the long, 18th Century wooden table. The doctor’s face was abnormally narrow, with a prominent nose, an especially high forehead, and a pair of close-set dark eyes that resided behind a pair of thick, black framed glasses. The general’s impromptu research on the doctor indicated him to have recently turned fifty-two years old. When Sage stood up from his place at the head of the table the general noted the doctor appeared to be just a little more than five feet tall – a literal runt of a man.
“You’re in my seat, Dr. Sage. Please move – NOW.”
The right side of the doctor’s face twitched noticeably as he glared up at the quickly approaching military general.
“I’m sorry, General Thompson, have we met?”
The general shook his head and answered without bothering to look down at the government administrator.
“No, now please move your ass, we have work to do.”
Fenwick stood up and shuffled two chairs away from where General Thompson stood looking down at the gathering of people who represented nearly the entirety of the leadership of the United States of America following the Race Wars crisis.
General Thompson nodded briefly to General John Meyers and then did the same to General Hugh Crow and Admiral Walter Briggs. Of the three, General Thompson had known General Crow the longest and subsequently trusted him the most as well. Like Thompson, Crow was a lifelong soldier, having first joined the Marines two weeks after graduating high school. From there he served in multiple combat operations and proved himself both a capable soldier and when needed, an effective military tactician. Crow had just turned fifty a few weeks earlier and was the proud father of two boys who were also in the Marines and his youngest, a daughter studying law at Harvard.
In addition to the three other members of the Joint Chiefs and Dr. Sage there was also Colonel Jordan Pensky, Director of the National Security Agency, and Miranda Bell, Director of Homeland Security. Tennison stood silent and motionless in the corner nearest the door.
“Gentlemen, Ma’am, I am certain your time is as valuable as mine so let’s get this started and get it done so we can all get back to the work that is required of each of us during these very serious and troubled times.”
Dr. Sage cleared his throat as he looked up with a hint of defiance at General Thompson.
“General, I assume you’ve received the same updates I have regarding the bombing attacks today, correct?”
Though annoyed by the interruption, the general merely nodded and then waited for the doctor to continue.
“Well then, General Thompson, I am here today to give my strongest recommendation for the full and immediate implementation of Protocol X. This situation is spiraling out of control and does not appear to have improved much if any since you took command following the declaration of Martial Law.”
General Thompson lowered himself slowly into the chair at the head of the table while his eyes remained fixed upon the diminutive doctor. The general then folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward slightly before he continued.
“Do you speak for yourself on that subject, or for the President, Dr. Sage?”
The doctor replied without hesitation as everyone else at the table listened closely to the exchange between the two men.
“Both. We are in total agreement regarding the need for Protocol X, General Thompson and I am certain most if not everyone else here feels the same – except for you, apparently.”
General Thompson glanced quickly at General Crow but found the dark-skinned Marine unwilling to offer any indication of where he stood on the issue of Protocol X.
This whole damn meeting is nothing more than a set-up to get me to agree to Protocol X.
“Dr. Sage, I don’t care what you or the President, or anyone else feels about this subject. There will be no implementation of Protocol X. I will not abandon millions of Americans to the perils of starvation, murder, and mayhem because it affords the rest of the country the privilege of living in safety. It is my duty to do my very best for all our citizens, not those fortunate enough to live in areas some of you deem more essential than others.”
The doctor chuckled while looking at General Thompson with a mixture of regret and pity.
“General, I don’t think you truly understand the severity of the situation we now face. Protocol X remains our most viable, immediate solution. The bombings we saw today…these attacks will only get worse. We have limited resources. We must utilize those resources to those areas that, to use your words, are more essential to the greater good.”
Dr. Sage pointed a bone-thin finger toward Homeland Security Director, Amanda Bell.
“Director Bell, did your office not just release an update regarding the Russian naval vessels taking positions off of both the eastern and western coasts of the United States?”
Bell nodded once while keeping her eyes focused upon General Thompson as Dr. Sage continued.
“And has your office not also indicated a significant uptick in foreign threats to some of our largest urban centers such as New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles?”
Miranda Bell nodded again.
“That’s correct, Dr. Sage. Since the Race Wars have started, those threats have increased by nearly forty percent. Today’s attacks are likely just the beginning of further attempts to disrupt our work in keeping at least some semblance of order throughout the country.”
The doctor’s eyes flashed a moment of self-satisfaction as he looked silently at General Thompson and waited for a response. The general ignored the bureaucrat, instead turning his head slightly to the right to look at three other members of the Joint Chiefs.
“Gentlemen, what is your assessment of the situation?”
All three of the other generals paused before Admiral Walter Briggs took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and then proceeded.
“General Thompson, I believe we currently have just over 700,000 active military personnel inside the United States, give or take, with another three hundred thousand currently stationed in other posts across the globe both on land and at sea. We also have an additional 200,000 National Guard currently deployed throughout the country as well – primarily in high population areas. Best estimates put the numbers of law enforcement personnel prior to the Race Wars, including local, state, and federal agencies at just over a million. That number has since been slashed by almost half in recent weeks.”
“And why is that, Admiral Briggs?”
The admiral straightened himself so he sat as tall as possible in his chair while looking at the general with almost indifference.
“They have fled their duties in order to return home. It’s to be expected given the chaotic circumstances. I’m actually surprised more have not done so. The important thing, General Thompson is the fact we are now at the precipice of either restoring order in some parts of the country, or losing it all to the madness that is the Race Wars.”
The general knew that like Dr. Sage, Admiral Briggs was making a push for implementation of Protocol X as well.
“And you feel Protocol X will ensure we maintain the order we have established in some of the more populated areas of the country?”
Admiral Briggs nodded his head.
“I do.
Briggs was the oldest member of the Joint Chiefs, nearing his 70th birthday. Thompson knew him to be more of a politician than a soldier who had conducted his fifty-plus year naval career with one primary goal in mind – to further his own standing.
“And why is that, Admiral Briggs?”
The admiral cleared his throat and added a slightly deeper tone to his voice. He thought himself General Thompson’s superior, despite Thompson being Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.
“We are at war. War requires the tough choices that are essential to real leadership. Protocol X is not a new plan. It was created during the Cold War for this very purpose – to quickly assess and then implement protection of those areas most vital to this nation’s future. The rest of the nation has to be viewed as…expendable, at l
east in the shorter term.”
General Thompson didn’t bother to try and hide his disgust.
“Am I to understand you believe people living in places like Washington D.C., New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago are more important to the country’s future than people in Cedar Falls, Lewiston, or Marion?”
American Survivalist: RACE WARS OMNIBUS: Seasons 1-5 Of An American Survivalist Series... Page 15