Howard looked at Richard in defeat. “What makes you so sure, Richard?”
“When all of this started, I saw the look in his eyes. He’s scared for his life. It was only there for a split second, but I saw it. He knows what’s gonna happen, and he doesn’t want to be here when it does.”
“That’s right, Howard. You need to let me out of here so I can help you stop him.”
CHAPTER ONE
President Howard Beck was sitting in the command center of Beck Castle. The giant, spherical monitor filled the room in front of him, displaying a detailed map of the Pacific States of America. The eccentric billionaire was the leader of the former states of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, and the Dakotas. When the former United States of America collapsed eighteen months prior, Howard eyed the territory as one he could easily control and did so with great success. Howard despised the role thrust upon him and hated the very concept of politics. He focused his energies on two primary goals: First, the territory needed to be secured against the Unified American Empire. Second, they had to build up a fighting force of dedicated patriots to topple the UAE and reclaim the broken country they had lost in the Collapse of 2027. The idea of establishing a government within the territory never occurred to Howard. His intention was to defeat the UAE and return the country to its pre-collapse state as quickly as possible. Declaring the territory to be a sovereign nation and holding democratic elections was a sign of permanence in which Howard had no interest. He was simply looking for a quick fix to set things right.
Within six months of the collapse, however, Howard had already thrown his quick-fix notion out the window. Bringing the United States back to its former glory would take much longer than he had originally anticipated. His closest advisors convinced him that the fifteen million residents of the territory needed a cause to fight for, a patriotic symbol they could believe in. Above all, they needed leadership. Despite his gut feeling that it was a complete waste of time, Howard reluctantly agreed to let his people organize a democratic election. Fifteen representatives would be elected, each serving as the voice for a million people. Each of the seven states would have two senators and, most importantly, a president and vice-president would be elected. Howard silently predicted the election would be a failure and few would bother to vote in the midst of chaos and turmoil. Much to his surprise, a staggering eighty-four percent of eligible voters turned out to cast their vote. The primary reason for Howard’s failed prediction was that no one had tossed their hat in the ring for the presidency. He quietly scoffed at the process, amused by the idea of a democratic government in which no one had the desire to hold the top job. Once all the votes were cast and counted, however, Howard Beck was declared President of the Pacific States of America, the sole write-in candidate on over ninety percent of the ballots.
Howard refused to believe it had happened. Marshall, Howard’s adult son, broke the news to him over dinner. Howard preferred to eat alone in his command center; however, when his son starting bringing his dinner plate into the command center to eat with his father, Howard felt he couldn’t very well turn his own son away.
“What? Are you serious? If you’re joking with me, son, I don’t find it the least bit funny.”
“Dad, it’s not a joke. You’re the first president of the Pacific States of America.”
“The Pacific States of America? Now I know you’re joking. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Dad, I know better than to joke with you.”
“Well, it better be a joke because no way in hell I’m gonna be the president of anything, especially not something with a silly name like that. Why did no one bother to ask me for my opinion in the matter?”
“You made your feelings on the topic perfectly clear to everyone, Dad. You wanted nothing to do with the election.”
“And I still don’t. Why on earth would anyone want me to be the president?”
Marshall Beck and many others considered his father to be one of the smartest people on the planet; his genius was often compared to that of Albert Einstein. Howard Beck had long ago been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, a form of high functioning autism. While his condition was thought to be the driving force of his focused genius, it wasn’t without shortcomings. Marshall’s father was completely lost when it came to social interaction. Prior to the collapse, Howard spent over two years in total seclusion in his fortress in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. His only companion was his digital assistant, Hal, the first artificial intelligence the world had known.
Marshall slowly shook his head, a loving smile on his face. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’re a hero to these people. They consider you their savior. No one ran for the office of president because you are the only person they want for the job.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Dad, you.”
“That’s not… I never wanted…”
“You may not want it, Dad, but the people have spoken.”
“That’s ridiculous! Plenty of others could do a better job! Dupree or Harris would be much better suited for the position! I wouldn’t have the first clue what to do!”
Marshall leaned forward, his hand on his father’s knee. “Dad, you won’t be doing it on your own. You’ll have plenty of people to help you.”
“I don’t like this at all. I’ve got so much to do; I’ve no time for this nonsense! Why don’t you take the job?”
“Sorry, Pop, I’ve got a job. I’m your vice president.”
Howard gave his son the rare gift of a smile. “God help us all.”
Howard and his son spent the next twelve months doing their best to meet the needs of the people in the Pacific States of America. As the days and months passed, Howard’s disdain for the job intensified, yet he continued to give the job one hundred percent of his attention. Howard was insistent that the territory’s government be modeled after that of the former United States of America. Howard studied the topic, committing dozens of books on government to memory. Every night when he retired to his bed, he read the biographies of the forty-six presidents of the United States to learn from their successes and failures. The last president and one of Howard’s closest friends, Malcolm Powers, was a celebrated armchair historian. Howard knew he would never fill his friend’s shoes but figured his obsession with presidential history was a quality Howard could emulate.
Howard looked up at the huge spherical monitor in his command center and addressed his digital assistant. “Good morning, Hal.”
“Good morning, sir.”
“Status report, please.”
“Yes, sir. The UAE has not made any significant movement towards the neutral zone surrounding our borders.”
“They’re a little too busy to be worrying about us at the moment.”
“Indeed, sir. The Silent Warriors continue to make bold attacks in The Pulse Zone. I intercepted a report last night detailing an attack on a water treatment plant outside of Charleston, West Virginia. The death toll from the attack continues to climb. Terrorists continue to set fires throughout The Pulse Zone. The UAE is currently attempting to extinguish fires that continue to spread across Nashville. President Sterling recently issued a decree to abandon Washington, D.C. and declared the destruction beyond repair. Regional Governor Butler is facing many challenges in restoring the power grid eighteen months after the EMP…”
“Hal, enough about the UAE. I get the point – it’s going downhill fast.”
“Of course, sir. General Dupree is scheduled to return to Beck Castle sometime this morning and has asked to schedule a meeting with you.”