One might assume, when a threat like Zombies rises up which threatens all of humanity, that the whole world would set aside its differences and unite to face their common enemy. While it was true that humanity made an effort to do so in the face of the Great Wave, this effort only lasted for a short time.
The US and the nations of Latin America had given new homes to the governments-in-exile of many of the nations who had fled their homelands, but the teeming billions of ordinary refugees were not always so lucky. The US accepted many refugees who had political power or sheer wealth, but claimed it had little room for more normal refugees.
And so billions flooded Latin America. Due to the fall of African and Asian nations in the Great Wave, South America soon became almost the entirety of the Global South, and a tentative balance of power formed between the US and all the nations south of Texas.
It was in the context of this new balance that the Pentagon continued its plans and operations. While the Pentagon publicly stated from 2027 onward that its mission was to coordinate the "Reconquista," or the recapture of the three lost continents, this was nothing more than a lot of bluster to satisfy the public. In reality, the big Hunter guilds had far more economic interest in retaking the Black Zones than the US did.
Such a war of conquest was completely unheard of in the modern day, after all. Even if every Zombie disappeared and Virus Z completely ceased to be a threat, the gears of the world had come to a halt without humanity to keep them spinning. The machine of civilization would take a very long time to get running once more.
General Pantherson was musing over these realities as the limousine carrying him and Director Hard finally came to a halt. The door to the limo was opened by an attendant, and an officer standing outside gave a salute. "Please follow me, sir. I'll escort you to your destination."
The academy directors followed the officer inside and into an elevator which took them below the ground. Before long, they'd arrived in a large hall containing a round table seating dozens of people.
This crowd was made up of the most important people in the country, including the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the top brass of the various army corps, the CEOs of the anti-Zombie biotech corporations… and even the President of the United States, accompanied by the Secretary of Defense.
Director Hart looked at General Pantherson, who seemed equally astonished. Apparently this wasn't just the routine meeting which they'd postulated on the drive over. Something far more urgent was sure to be the topic of discussion. But what could it be, and why weren't they notified beforehand?
A man wearing black armor rose from his seat and approached with a smile. He stretched out his hand to each of them in turn. "Director Hart, General Pantherson! Glad to see you. We've been waiting for you to start the meeting!"
The general shook his hand. "Dean Pegasus! I wasn't expecting to see you." He lowered his voice. "Not to mention the President."
The dean replied, "I hear you. These aren't ideal circumstances, not at all. But you understand the times we live in. This kind of meeting must be kept absolutely secret. You know what Benjamin Franklin said. Three men can keep a secret only if two are dead!" He gestured to the table. "Sit down, sit down! We'll start shortly."
With some hesitation, the two newcomers took their seats. General Pantherson resisted the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt, but gratefully slurped from the ice water set before each of their seats. "Damned hot down here," he muttered.
"You shouldn't have had so much to drink on the way here," Director Hart murmured coolly back.
Just then, a man in his sixties rose and looked stiffly out over the gathered crowd. He wore a military uniform heavy with swinging medals. This man was none other than the White House Chief of Staff. "Now that everyone has arrived," he said, "we can begin this extraordinary defense council."