Total War

Chapter Twenty-six

"We'll be together soon," was all the president could say as his wife and children left his office in the Mt. Lincoln complex. He had tried to tell his wife, without letting his children know. But he couldn't find the words. Bobby's face and his wife's were the last faces he saw, as his family turned down the corridor. Bobby was still holding the spaceship. The president turned to Paul Dorian who was standing in the corridor.

"They've landed?"

"Only in token numbers, Mr. President-and they're pushing the timing on the neutron radiation a little at that. Those cities-like Chicago-are still hot."

"Paul, what about the Eden Project. Did it get off?"

"Yes," Dorian said, his eyes downcast. "Without a hitch, sir."

"Then maybe there is some hope after all. Send in the chief of my Secret Service detail."

"Mr. President, you can't do this."

"I have to-if there's going to be any United States left. It's not a country, a land-mass, Paul. I finally see that. The United States is an idea. And if I don't do this, the idea may well die. I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

The president took the outstretched hand of Paul Dorian, then walked back into his office and sat on the couch. In a moment, the chief of his Secret Service detail, Mike Clemmer, came through the door. "Mike, I've got a favor to ask."

"Anything, Mr. President," Clemmer said, entering the room. "Take this." He handed Clemmer an envelope with the presidential seal in the upper left corner. "And now, give me your revolver."

Clemmer started to reach under his windbreaker, then stopped.

"That's an order, Mike. There are two letters in the envelope. One is to my wife, the other is to the American people. Thurston Potter knows what to do with them. This is my last order, Mike. Give me your gun."

Clemmer wiped his palms on the sides of his trouser legs and reached under his jacket to his right hip. The president watched as he produced a short-barreled, shiny revolver. "I don't know much about guns, Mike. Always wanted to try them, but never had the time. Does yours have a safety catch?"

"No, sir. Revolvers don't. Mr. President, you can't. I can't let you."

"You've got to, Mike. If I stay alive, the Russians will find me and use me. If I die, there will be no government left to capitulate, and free Americans will go on fighting until there is a government again-another elected government that will throw the Soviets out. If they get me, it's all over for all of us."

"But Mr. President-they'll never get into Mt. Lincoln."

"You know that's not true," the president said. "And if we're totally cut off, they've got a capitulation anyway. But if the American people know I'm gone, then the Soviets-no matter what they do-can't lie to the American people that the United States has surrendered. It's the only way. Now, give me the gun."

The president looked away from Mike Clemmer and extended his right hand, lighting a cigarette with his left.

He felt the heavy steel object in his hand, then heard the footsteps across the carpet. When he looked up, Mike Clemmer was gone. The president looked into the empty hallway through his open door.

The president of the United States dragged heavily on the cigarette and held the smoke in his lungs. He glanced at the picture of his wife and children on the coffee table in front of him, then looked straight into the stubby muzzle of the revolver. He touched the first finger of his right hand to the trigger...