Dr. Damico sat back down, exasperated. He remembered analyzing the Chinese outbreak several months ago and thinking there was simply no hope for East Asia. The only option for anyone in that region of the world would be to evacuate to the Pacific Islands. He had vainly hoped that evacuation would be peaceful. It had not been. Accepting that there was nothing he could do about the violence in the Pacific, was almost as difficult as getting the American leadership to stay out of it. Old habits die hard, and a government that was accustomed to meddling in every conflict on earth could scarcely be expected to sit idle when Hawaii was attacked.
“Dr. Damico, are you suggesting that we simply abandon Hawaii and leave those American citizens to their fate?” Senator Allan Nostrum grumbled condescendingly. He was a dangerous politician who fancied himself the most qualified leader of the civilian government — de facto president of the United States in the absence of a true democratic government. “I think that communicates weakness to the rest of the world.” He rose to his feet and addressed everyone at the meeting. “If we let the Chinese and Mexicans push us around, by God, that will invite the Russians and the Brits and Germans…”
Dr. Damico slammed his fist on the table in anger. “They had no choice!” The room fell silent. Henry possessed a stoic personality, and his outburst of anger took everyone off guard.
“Doctor, you look like you could use some sleep…” Senator Nostrum began.
“Listen, Senator…” Dr. Damico interrupted. He leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his temples as he spoke. “The Chinese aren’t monsters. They aren’t out for conquest. They’re desperate. They need to establish land-based infrastructure or they are going to starve. They still have to clear WDs from Hawaii before they can even think about tackling their mainland problems. Do you honestly think they want to go to war with the U.S.? We blockaded Hawaii. We stopped incoming refugees — with our guns. The Chinese had a choice; they could either take Hawaii, or die in their ships…”
“If we’re going to maintain an appearance of strength in the world, we can’t allow aggressors to simply snatch up American land,” Nostrum answered. “We owe it to those boys on the U.S.S. Truman… they gave their lives for us. I, for one, do not believe their sacrifice should be in vain.”
“And you want to what? Go to war with these people with the civilian fleet at our side? For what? Because you think the rest of the world will think we’re weak?” Henry was shaking with fury. “If we go to war over Hawaii… no matter the outcome, everyone in this room and every soldier and civilian in the fleet will be dead.”
The Admiral interrupted the two men before their argument could continue. “Senator, while I appreciate your position and understand your reluctance to abandon Hawaii, unfortunately, the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan battle group is not equipped to wage whole-scale naval warfare coupled with an amphibious assault on Chinese occupied Hawaii at this time. When we are, I would like personally, to assure the civilian government that you will have the Navy’s full commitment to retake every inch of American soil.”
“That is satisfactory… for now.” Nostrum shot Henry a look of half anger and half admiration before retaking his seat.
“I’d like to move on to another topic of discussion — Moving the military and civilian fleet off the coast of Southern California.” Admiral McMillan continued. “As of today, the convoy runs have been suspended.”
A murmur of disbelief washed through the meeting.
“What about the civilians trapped in the DDCs?” Someone asked over the speakerphone. “We can’t just abandon them.”
“With our current food supply and fuel situation, we can no longer afford to sink resources into the mainland…” The Admiral replied.
Dr. Damico’s mind wandered. The words stuck in his mind, ‘What about the civilians trapped in the DDCs?’ His wife was in a DDC. The very last convoy mission was, among other things, responsible for retrieving her. Henry couldn’t help but wonder if he was abusing his power. Would the fleet be better served utilizing the convoy elsewhere? How many wives and husbands were trapped on land? If they had been lucky enough to know someone powerful in the fleet, would they have had a convoy sent to get them? If he was misusing his position and endangering lives, was he any different from the Senator?
“Most of the factors that give us the best chance for survival do not lie off the coast of Southern California,” the Admiral concluded.
The room fell silent, and Dr. Damico looked around. Everyone seemed to be staring at him. Tracy elbowed him in the ribs, and he grimaced in pain but was thankful for the cue.
“Ah! Oh, yes…” Dr. Damico cleared his throat, “the Gulf of Mexico.”
Everyone whispered as they pondered the prospect, and Dr. Damico stood to pass out folders filled with extensive research. He allowed everyone to take a look at what they had been given before continuing.
“In summary, the Gulf has the resources we need: oil platforms with existing reserves, on-shore refineries, and fisheries. Most importantly, it has access to water-based transportation into the mainland United States via the Mississippi River. Once we’ve secured the Gulf and established food production, we can mount expeditions into the mainland for supplies and survivors. Additionally, the location should give us the ability to more efficiently defend ourselves from eastward threats.” Dr. Damico outlined the key points of his strategy.
“Gulf of Mexico? Are you trying to get us wiped out by a hurricane?” Nostrum said with a chuckle.
“We can avoid hurricanes,” Dr. Damico countered. “We can’t avoid running out of fuel and food.”
“Doctor, you mention eastward threats? What about the west? Won’t Mexico be after the same resources we’re after?” A Navy ship’s captain asked the astute question.
Henry considered his answer carefully before speaking, knowing his next words would be unsettling to many in attendance. “Before I answer that, I should remind everyone here that the military fleet is running low on supplies and the civilian fleet is in far worse shape. We need to move quickly if we want to avoid the civilian fleet descending into food riots.”
“Are you the only expert on this subject? I’m not convinced you’re being objective. Are there any other scientific minds that can provide a second opinion?” Nostrum interrupted.
Dr. Damico ignored the Senator and continued. “There are no alternatives here. If we fail, we stand an almost certain chance that nearly every man, woman, and child in this fleet will die. The challenges we’re facing are serious, complex, and not just limited to food production and external security. Disease, internal security — crime, social challenges, fuel production, education, labor, and the undead are quickly becoming among the least of our worries. Even the Mexican attacks, futile as they may be, are costing us way too many resources. The world is in complete shambles, and everyone on earth is doing what they must to survive. Many will not be successful unless we embrace this reality. We need to be willing to cross lines we might never have considered crossing before…”
“What are you getting at, Doctor?” A congressman sensed the gravity of Dr. Damico’s tone.
“We have to execute a tactical nuclear strike against the Mexican nation with the goal of obliterating all remaining military threats,” Dr. Damico answered gravely.
The strategy session exploded into an uproar. Dr. Damico knew that this linchpin of his plan would not go over lightly. The zombie apocalypse sent the world flying out of control, and some countries with nuclear capabilities executed strikes on their enemies. Tragically, some strikes were against their own cities… overrun with the undead. The United States had, thus far, elected not to use nuclear weapons, and many had taken that fact as a point of pride.