Three hours had passed since the meeting in the Oval Office, where the most powerful man in the pre-apocalyptic world had learned how utterly trivial his life achievements really were. After all, what did it matter to be President of the most powerful country on Earth, if everything could be wiped away in an instant by some otherworldly, malevolent force?
"Pay attention, goddammit!" Benjamin King cursed under his breath at his own weakness, pushed the nihilistic thoughts to the back of his mind, and refocused on the absolute tragedy unfolding before him. He had been rushed to the reinforced bunker underneath the White House, and was currently manning the bunker's pre-established situation room. Together with a cadre of the country's most powerful people—or, at least, those who were close enough to make it to the White House before everything went to hell—Benjamin was desperately trying to save as much of the nation he loved as he could. Still, he was failing.
Almost immediately after the world had witnessed the last moments of Earth's only protector, the NORAD NWS warning system, designed to detect unauthorized airspace violations over the United States, saw more anomalous contacts in twenty minutes than it had in its entire history, combined. Not long after that, reports started flooding in of "animal" attacks. All over North America, humans were being attacked—and eaten—by creatures no one had ever seen before. Local police forces were hopelessly outmatched, and the ensuing panic made it almost impossible to effectively deploy troops.
"What the hell is the Air Force doing? The 10th Mountain Division is about to retreat from New York!" Ben shouted. "We are going to lose the city!"
"They can't get anything off the ground, Mr. President. The skies are too dangerous. The only aircraft capable of staying in the air are stealth bombers, but most of them are equipped with nuclear payloads. We're doing our best to refit the bombers for tactical strikes, but ETA is one hour."
"We lost New York. The 10th Mountain is pulling out. They're reporting catastrophic casualties—they might not even make it out," confessed Vice President Henry Higgins, his expression defeated.
"Sir, our early warning system just flagged six ICBM launches. It's the Russians. Flight trajectory analysis shows impact locations just outside St. Petersburg," a young intelligence analyst reported swiftly, returning to his computer station without missing a beat.
"Oh my god…they just doomed six million people," Henry whispered, some part of him hoping that, by keeping his voice low, he could make it less true.
"It's time, Mr. President," General Gaius Varro interjected. Gaius was one of many four-star generals, but it was an open secret in Washington that he was the best the U.S. Armed Forces had to offer. When anyone with real power considered who was in charge of the United States Army, they didn't think of the Secretary of Defense—they thought of General Varro. "You need to enact the devolution protocols. This is a fight for humanity's survival now, and we cannot keep sacrificing our forces like this. Give the order. Now."
Devolution was the act of shrinking government power structures and areas of authority, to be used only in the most catastrophic emergencies. In this situation, it would mean abandoning most of the country and consolidating government control over a small area that could be properly defended. The protocol was designed only as a stopgap to maintain the chain of command if too many government leaders were lost. But Gaius strongly suspected this devolution would be permanent.
"That would mean sacrificing most of the country to these goddamn monsters, Gaius!" Ben was panicking. All he had ever really wanted was to be popular and important; he didn't want to make life-and-death decisions. Ben was, in fact, a brilliant man—unstoppable in the business world, and a cunning, charming politician who had made it to the presidency in record time. He thought he could serve a couple of terms, clean up some of the fraud, waste, and abuse in government, and be remembered as the president who fixed America. "That would leave hundreds of millions of people defenseless. I won't do it!"
"Mr. President, I will ask you one more time. Give the order. Do you refuse?" All emotion was gone from Gaius's voice. Ben had never heard him speak like this, and it sent a chill through his body. "I refuse, Gaius!" he said, standing firm. He could never make a decision that would doom so many people. He would rather die.
Gaius let out a sigh, and waved forward the two soldiers standing guard near the door. "As per National Security Directive 28, I am now the acting executive authority, charged with the preservation of this government."
Ben stood up so fast his chair flipped over behind him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Gaius!"
Gaius ignored Ben's final retorts and gave the order. "President Benjamin King, you are under arrest for gross negligence and dereliction of duty in a time of national crisis. Your failure to act has jeopardized the survival of this government, and I am legally bound to step in."
"Damn you, Gaius, don't do this! You are destroying the country!" Benjamin didn't resist as the soldiers pulled his arms behind his back and zip-tied his wrists together. He knew it was pointless; he needed to use whatever time he had left to talk Gaius out of it.
"That would be true if the world you grew up in still existed. It doesn't. That's an error in your thinking," Gaius said coldly. "You would squander what small chance we have left to save some semblance of civilization. You aren't the president of a great nation anymore—what you are is a member of an endangered species." He waved the soldiers away, and they escorted the stunned Benjamin towards the door.
"Are you going to stand there and let him do this to me Henry?!" Ben was angry, he lost any semblance of strategic thinking, he just wanted to lash out. "Say something you coward!" Ben was deeply regretting his choice to pick someone so weak as his vice president.
"I'll... I'll make sure, t-that they let you out... When things are under control, ok Ben?" Henry stumbled through his words, his guilty conscious was clear to see all over his face, but he would never stand up to Gaius. Henry was a man who groveled to authority, an expert ass-kisser, that was the whole reason Benjamin had given him this job in the first place.
Gaius took the commander's seat at the table, letting out a heavy sigh. "From this point forward, we are no longer the leaders of the United States of America. We are the remnants of the devolved U.S. government. Our top priority is to save as much manpower, resources, and fighting capacity as we can." He paused, then continued, "Give the order for all remaining forces to retreat. They are to protect and preserve themselves as the top priority. Those close enough, and still capable, should rendezvous here in Washington. We will try to preserve as much of the capital as we can. The rest are on their own. I am delegating command to the most senior officer of each unit. Expect no further orders. Good luck."
Alexandria was in the room, she tucked herself into a corner and tried to stay out of the way, she stayed quiet through the entire ordeal. General Gaius was the man that had rescued her when she was still a child, she owed him her life. He had risked everything, standing up to her captors, and saving her from a horrifying fate, of being some godforsaken science experiment. Anyway, her abilities were more suited for information gathering. She hated how useless she felt in emergencies, but that wasn't the only reason she was so distracted. Her power wasn't just capable of showing her scenes of distant events as they happened, like some overrated magical video camera. No, she had developed another ability, one much more mysterious. It worked something like an oracle: if she cleared her mind and meditated on a question, she would sometimes see visions that led her to an answer. She had resolved to keep this new ability a secret, for now; she knew all too well how depraved people could act in pursuit of power—she had the scars under her blindfold to prove it.
Right now, Alexandria was meditating on a question: she wanted to know if humanity had any hope of surviving this catastrophe. But no matter how hard she tried, she kept getting visions of some dirty, homeless kid. "Maybe the question is too broad? Or, maybe, we really don't have any hope?" she lamented.