The Takeover, page 27
The other big employer in town was security. An extensive concrete wall topped with razor wire was being erected around the town center. Hundreds of laborers were working on various parts of the wall at once. Towers were being built at regular intervals where sharpshooters could stand watch. The four entrances to town, one at each cardinal point of the compass, were to be barred each night, with no one getting in or out after dusk. Once it was finished, the townspeople would effectively be living inside an armed compound, but at least they would be safe.
All roads leading into and out of town had already been heavily barricaded, with armed guards authorized to shoot if people tried to force their way past. The guards let individuals and families in on a case-by-case basis, especially if they happened to possess valuable skills like construction work or nursing, but anyone who waved a gun or blustered too much was turned away. A bullet whizzing by the ear seemed to work wonders.
A much bigger problem was the roving gangs of armed marauders who were growing more brazen by the day. They had already successfully raided the town on several occasions. Invariably these raids came from the direction of I-25. The marauders would barrel towards town in heavy-duty pickup trucks, firing wildly as they drew nearer, forcing people to scatter, then loot stores and houses before making their getaway.
In response to these ongoing raids, the town council finally decided to bulldoze the two closest I-25 highway exits into oblivion. Once the exit lanes had been reduced to rubble, vehicular traffic from I-25 came to a sudden halt, and foot traffic reduced to a trickle. Anyone still finding their way into town tended to come via Highway 51 to the east, and that back road was heavily patrolled.
The council’s final security decision was its most controversial: they decided to raze those parts of town closest to I-25 to keep them from becoming bases for roving bands of criminals. No amount of pleading from local residents with homes in those parts was enough to sway town leaders. The displaced were granted more humble quarters inside the walled parts of town, and if they didn’t like it, they could leave. None left: they knew what awaited them on the outside if they did.
In such a fashion, Truth or Consequences sealed itself off from the outside world and became a kingdom unto itself. It was a feudal castle in modern times, offering protection in return for what amounted to serfdom for the majority of its inhabitants. But there wasn’t a single occupant in town who didn’t consider himself or herself lucky to be a serf in this modern age of the domes.
Chapter 30
January 13 – Charlottesville, Virginia
I love this place,” Royce exclaimed. He was standing on the porch of a rambling three-bedroom ranch on the outskirts of Charlottesville. “I still can’t believe you found it so quickly.”
Aubrey shrugged. “It was simple, really. The house was in foreclosure after the couple that lived here died.“ (She didn’t have to say how they died—that went without saying these days.) “Then it went to auction. All I did was submit the winning bid at firesale prices. Not many people are buying homes these days—at least not ones located inside a potential jump zone.”
“Cowards.”
“We have you to thank, of course—that gold of yours keeps going up in value. Less than half of it was enough for the bank to say yes. We got this place for a song.” Aubrey stared out at the view from their porch with a look of deep satisfaction on her face.
They remained silent for a time, savoring the sunset. “Moving in certainly was a breeze,” Royce said eventually.
“One of the unexpected benefits of having no belongings. I do miss my shoes, though.”
“You make them sound like your children.”
“They are...or were. I miss them every time I walk into one of those empty walk-in closets. But on the plus side, the house is big enough for all of us—and you were even able to build a crib for Dominique. Who knew you could be so handy?”
“Hey, I’m handy.” Royce let his hands roam a bit to show just how handy he could be.
Aubrey laughed and slapped at his arms. “Hey, mister! My mom might see.” But she snuggled in closer. “It’s getting cold fast, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, the sun’s almost down. But it sure is pretty.”
“It sure is. I have to say, I’m taking to this country living thing better than I thought I would.”
“Not bad for a Brooklyn girl.” Royce hugged her tight, keeping the cold at bay. “The rest of the world may be going to hell in a handbasket, but here we are, safe and sound in our little sanctuary.”
Aubrey nodded but didn’t say anything more. She didn’t need to. They were both thinking the same thing: that one more jump would be enough to make this sanctuary uninhabitable. And somehow that put a damper on the excitement they otherwise might have felt at owning their first home.
Interlude: Jump…
January 18, 2042
Jump or no jump? This was the day that would determine the fate of the world. Half of the Earth’s landmass was already under the control of others not human. Was the other half about to be wrested from human control?
Despair ran deep, and suicides ran rampant, but even at this late date no aliens had shown themselves. But then again, why should they? Why show up in the midst of a crisis? If all this was the equivalent of a mass extermination—the sort of thing one might do to an infestation of bugs—then why not let the place air out a bit before coming down to occupy it?
On the other hand, why have force fields at all if one’s sole intent was to exterminate anything and everything in sight? Force fields seemed to suggest some sort of human presence on the outside—hostile, perhaps, but unable to reach those on the inside, like mosquitoes on the outside of a cold pane of glass.
Chapter 31
January 18 – NBC Nightly News, Philadelphia
Breaking news tonight: the President of the United States is dead. We repeat: Mark Gardner, fiftieth President of the United States, has died.
“The President took his own life late last night. Initial reports indicate he killed himself in the Oval Office with his own gun, at his own desk, in the middle of the night when most were sound asleep. Secret Service personnel instantly rushed to the scene, but the President was already dead. Despite being in mourning, the First Lady has already begun moving out of what is being called the Philadelphia White House in order to make room for its new occupants.
“Former Vice President Patricia Talbert was sworn in as fifty-first President of the United States earlier this morning. She is seen here taking the Oath of Office, with her husband looking on. President Talbert hails from Florida, an important swing state, which is why many believe she was on the ticket with President Gardner to begin with. Never a part of the former President’s inner circle, she remains something of a mystery to most Americans as she assumes the presidency. Her remarks immediately after taking the Oath of Office were brief, so let’s have a listen.”
“I have always been proud to serve with President Gardner. I believe he was a great man and a great President, but the burdens of office lay heavy on him, and in the end, unfortunately, they simply became too much to bear. He presided over this country in a time of unprecedented crisis. Sadly, and perhaps inevitably, many perished under his watch, which is a terrible burden to bear for any President. It burdens me, I can tell you, and so I humbly ask for your prayers going forward, and I swear to you that I will do my best to faithfully execute the office of President of the United States. God bless this great nation and make it whole again.”
“That was President Talbert in her initial remarks to the nation, shortly after taking the Oath of Office. She will surely have her hands full in the coming days. For more on how President Talbert intends to respond to the challenges ahead, we turn to Stephanie Wilson in Philadelphia. Stephanie?”
“Cory, I think it’s fair to say that no president has ever come into office facing greater challenges than President Talbert does at this moment. First and foremost, there are the domes themselves. Each already incorporates nearly 500 square miles of land, but that would increase to nearly 2,000 square miles with another jump, leaving practically no habitable land for us humans. Whatever existence might continue after that would be hardscrabble at best. America as a united entity would almost certainly cease to exist, replaced by isolated enclaves of survivors.
“But let’s assume the domes don’t jump. Let’s assume we’re all saved, if that’s the right word for it. Then President Talbert really has her work cut out for her, because Americans have never faced challenges greater than they do right now, ranging from homelessness and starvation to freezing temperatures and violence. Meanwhile, our highway system, our power grid, our water and sewer systems, our communication systems, our food production and distribution systems, and our financial systems have all been deeply and perhaps irrevocably broken.
“The President’s first few weeks in office—if she is permitted to have them at all—may amount to little more than triage. Realistically speaking, all she can do is to try and keep as many people alive as possible. She has already promised to continue President Gardner’s efforts to set up food pantries and temporary shelters outside each metropolitan dome. Those efforts have already saved millions of lives, and yet millions more have been lost due to poor planning or miscommunication.
“Most notably, people escaping the domes exit from every possible direction, which means many never find the refugee camps to begin with. Aid stations are forced to relocate after each jump. Cell phones and wifi signals don’t work inside the domes, and physical signposts pointing people in the right direction become obsolete after each jump. Even once people escape and have reception again, they sometimes find they have to navigate around a dome with a circumference of some eighty miles. They’re often too far away to reach a food pantry or refugee camp, unless they happen to have a vehicle with enough gas to get them there, not to mention a road going in the right direction.
“The other huge problem, of course, is crime. President Talbert has already vowed to increase military and police presence at refugee camps—but how? President Gardner already stationed as many troops as were available, but still they aren’t enough. Less than two million active-duty troops currently serve in the U.S. Armed Forces—half of one percent of the overall population. That means the military is stretched too thin to meet all of the demands being put upon it. Cory, back to you.”
“Thanks Stephanie. Next we turn to Jim McDonald, who is reporting to us from just outside the Manhattan Dome. Jim, what can you tell us?”
“Cory, as you can see behind me, New York City is completely enclosed within the shimmering walls of a single merged dome centered on Central Park. It encompasses not just Manhattan but also most of the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, and Staten Island. Even a sizable chunk of Newark, New Jersey has been swallowed up inside this one mammoth dome, which now stretches some twenty-four miles in diameter. The dome’s height of over one mile means that even the tallest of skyscrapers is now dwarfed by comparison. And that’s before today’s potential jump. If that should happen, then the doomsday prophets can finally say I told you so.
“But even if we’re lucky enough to survive the next few days, it’s frankly impossible to overstate the extent of this catastrophe. We’re essentially looking at a ghost city here, Cory. The buildings may still be present, but the people are long gone. And that’s true not just for New York City but for almost every other major metropolitan area in the world.
“In truth, we can’t even begin to get an accurate count on the number of American dead. The military’s best estimates put the number at between fifty and a hundred million. To put that into perspective, if you were to add up every American death from every war ever fought, you would arrive at a number well below two million—so there is simply no precedent for anything like this before in American history.
“Meanwhile, our economy is in a shambles. Unemployment is so high that the Bureau of Labor Statistics has simply stopped reporting on it. In fact, the Bureau of Labor Statistics itself is down to just a handful of people, so if you can call a handful of people a bureau, then I suppose it still exists. The same is true for many other agencies and departments of the federal government: they are shells of their former selves. All nonessential functions have been shut down or reduced to a token presence. Those who have long dreamed of a leaner federal government are finally getting their wish.
“As for the markets, nearly all stocks are now penny stocks. Untold trillions of dollars have evaporated into thin air, and many exchanges around the world have simply ceased to exist. What many financial experts said could never happen—a total financial meltdown on a global scale—has happened. An incredible number of corporations have gone bankrupt, and the rest are on the ropes. I think it would be fair to describe the current financial situation as apocalyptic.”
“Is there a risk of the U.S. government defaulting, Jim?”
“Not really, Cory. While it’s true the debt load has never been higher, a federal default is unlikely because the U.S. government owns the printing presses. In effect, it can always print more money. So the real concern isn’t default—it’s hyperinflation. The more money that’s printed, the less each dollar is worth, and you can already see that happening across the country as inflation spirals out of control. Gasoline now costs a national average of nearly fifty dollars a gallon at the pump, assuming you can get it at all, and the proverbial loaf of bread costs nearly twenty times what it did four months ago. If the government keeps printing money, we could see what happened to the Venezuelan dollar back in the 2020’s happen to the U.S. dollar in the 2040’s. Venezuela saw inflation of nearly 10,000 percent in just one year in 2019—and from 2016 to 2019, their overall inflation rate increased nearly 54 million percent.”
“God forbid such a thing should happen here, Jim. So how are people surviving if they have no jobs, and no money, and prices are spiraling out of control?”
“The short answer is, they’re barely surviving at all, Cory. Things are disjointed in America. A fortunate few continue to muddle along, living and working in communities that, by sheer chance, happen to be located far from any domes. The rest have fallen on what might euphemistically be called hard times. They did nothing to deserve their fate: they simply happened to live in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Most of the displaced now live in refugee camps, with a government-supplied tent and what amounts to subsistence food rations to keep them alive. A black market exists in nearly every refugee camp where you can get more and better food—if you have something to trade for it. It’s essentially a barter system: this loaf of bread for that raincoat—that sort of thing. Unfortunately, many have nothing left to trade other than their own bodies and have turned to prostitution as the only way in which to feed their families. Crime in every possible form is rampant in these camps.”
“How awful. Has word of the President’s demise reached these refugee camps, Jim? And if so, how has it affected them?”
“No doubt they’ve heard of it, Cory, but most are so focused on their own survival at this point that, to be frank, the President’s death is low on their list of concerns. They’ve become desensitized to bad news unless it affects them directly.”
Surely other parts of the world are faring better than we are here in America, Jim.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not the case, Cory. The whole world seems to be in a collective freefall.”
“All right, Jim, thanks. To our faithful viewers, please stay safe, and please tune in tomorrow, assuming there is a tomorrow. This is Cory Phillips saying good night and God bless.”
Chapter 32
January 18 – Oval Office, Philadelphia
Half a bottle of Lagavulin single malt scotch sat on the coffee table between Gil Lametti and Bill Cohen. Both of their whisky glasses were full at the moment but wouldn’t be for long. To their left was the Oval Office desk, still cordoned off with yellow tape until the Secret Service and forensics teams could finish up their investigation. The office was empty otherwise, except for themselves. Both men looked hollow-eyed.
“I knew he was depressed, but not that depressed,” Gil Lametti said. “If I had, I would have done something.”
“Like what?” Bill Cohen asked.
“I don’t know. I could have taken his gun away.”
“I’m sure the President of the United States would have loved that,” Cohen said dryly.
“I could have talked him down, then.”
“He wasn’t standing on a ledge, he was sitting at his own desk. And it’s called the Resolute Desk for a reason. I doubt you could have said or done anything to talk him out of it.”
Lametti nodded, downed his drink, grimaced, and poured another. “Do you think we’ll know if the dome jumps from in here?”
“I have no idea. I’m not sure I want to know.” Cohen drank and repoured. “When is she expected to get here?”
“Any minute now. Better drink while we still can; I hear she’s a teetotaler.” They both followed his advice and drank again.
“Actually, I’m not sure about this,” Lametti said after a minute.
“What’s that?”
“Meeting President Talbert for the first time drunk out of our gourds.”
“She’s gonna fire us anyway. What difference does it make? Plus, it’s the end of the world. It’s our patriotic duty to get drunk.”
“If you say so. I don’t think she’s gonna like seeing yellow caution tape around her desk, either.”
“Can you blame her?”
They heard the click of heels in the hallway, then the door opened and President Talbert walked in. She surveyed the room with a practiced air, took in the Lagavulin sitting between the two men (who were now standing out of respect), and without a word sat down in the chair facing them. “Sit,” she urged them.
“Madam President,” they both murmured and sat back down on the couch.
