The Survivors
Deleted Scenes and Eagle Teams

December 21st

1

“This is a joke, right? One of Milton’s gags?”

When no one spoke, President Carter examined the paper he’d been given to read, wishing he had surrounded himself with more experienced people in the year he’d held this job. He had no idea what came next. It wasn’t something he’d planned to conquer during his time in office.

“Where do I give the speech?” Carter had discovered a love of talking to his people.

Ben Seiling, Deputy Chief of Staff, gestured to the radio the president used for the weekly addresses. “It’s not safe in public. The rioting started an hour ago in most places. It’s spreading faster than we can keep up.”

“No cameras? Press?”

“No. We already have two security tapes missing. No reporters; no questions. Too many people will still suspect the truth.”

Usually confident, Carter was almost speechless, unable to imagine how his country would react. He slid behind the impressive desk for once without reminding himself that it was his. Hand hesitating, he looked up. “We’re sure?”

Ben’s curt nod confirmed it, but the sheer number of Secret Service Agents filling the halls of the West Wing, entering his Oval Office, drove it in. As he had the thought, three more uniformed men came in from the doors that led to the Rose Garden, expressions shouting excitement and a touch of fear that wasn’t comforting.

“The agents will take you and your family out as soon as you’re finished here. The Vice President and Joint Chiefs will be in the air shortly, headed for the Essex Compound.”

The President flinched as two shots rang out in quick succession somewhere nearby. He swept the damning newspaper lying on the spotless desk.

Betrayal is the Foundation of America!

The Gospel of Mary was discovered in Southern France last month and has now been proven genuine by experts secretly asked to test the parchments. In them, is a tale of murder, extortion, kidnapping, and forced reproduction that scientists claim has kept secret the descendants of Jesus Christ. The list of powerful families around the globe that are being accused is staggering...

Carter gestured to the newspaper. Tomorrow’s edition; he was positive he didn’t want to know how it had been obtained. “When did they discover the site?”

“An old manuscript was unearthed in France last year. One of the experts refused a large payment to keep quiet. He was eliminated, but we couldn’t secure all the copies of his findings. A local station is set to run the story tomorrow.”

“Not anymore.”

“Exactly.”

The first term President stared at the seal, the desk, the walls. These things had been his, and he had done justice to them where he could, but this? It was beyond his control.

Carter hadn’t quite believed it when he’d first been informed of the file known only as DOC, but it hadn’t taken him long to understand how much the world would change if the public suspected the massive secret that had been kept all these years. The days of government rule would be...

“Mr. President, please.”

Breaking into a sweat and not caring that he was ruining a very expensive suit, Carter stared at the small sea of faces, hearing heavy stomps above them that could only be agents storming through the Residence for his family.

Ben, reading some of his thoughts on his face, spoke up. “These men have no families to rescue; they have been paid well in gold and passes, and all of them voted for you. There are no deserters here. You and your family will make it to NORAD, safe and sound.”

Only slightly reassured, the President skimmed what might be his last address, worry burning. “You’ll activate the sirens?”

Both of them looked up as the ceiling lights changed to a pale red.

“As soon as you’re on your way. Now please, you have to go. DC is a direct target!”

Carter delayed, hating it that he was being rushed, wasn’t being told everything. “What about air traffic and vital services?”

The deputy’s lined face went blank. He replied in a tone that said it didn’t matter. “They’ve been instructed to land the planes anywhere they can, so Star Wars doesn’t shoot any more down by mistake. Last report said four confirmed crashes, two more suspected. Mr. President, we have to–”

“What about vitals? Evacuations?”

Ben sighed in frustration, knowing the President would have his report before he did anything. Carter could be pushed, but it had to be gently. “The internet is locked down; only our senior military have the codes needed to access it. As for EVACs, those on the lists are 35% recovered at this point. Ahead of schedule.”

“And vitals?” Carter knew it was ugly. In the answer, he heard the same terror and anxiety he felt in his own stomach.

“We have reports of massive abandonment of posts already. Media stations in France and China are on it. Daycares, schools, hospitals, radar and traffic towers, police stations, utility plants–they’re already starting to shut down. Citizens will have nothing to depend on, no way to survive after the first few months.” The deputy’s voice lowered. “The draft convoys started out half an hour ago. Waves of refugees have been spotted hitting towns ahead of the trucks. Some of those places are attempting barricades. We’ve covered it. Our men will follow orders.”

The President winced at the mental image. He’d been briefed, but he hadn’t honestly thought they would do this to their...

“Carter.”

It was the first time the deputy had ever called him by his first name. Doing it here, in this hallowed place, was such a transgression of protocol that it got Carter’s full attention. This was the strategy smarter men than himself had agreed upon, and after, when it was time to come out of hiding, he would still be in charge. The US Presidency was not allowed to change hands during a time of war, unless there was a death. “We’re using the rest of our arsenal? Retaliating, even though we caused it?”

Ben motioned for one of the agents to grab the tapes and hidden microphone from the desk. “It’s all under way.”

Carter’s finger pushed the button, not asking how that was possible without his approval. He’d learned a lot about leadership in the last few years and one of the biggest lessons was that you didn’t ask questions unless you could take the answers. Stomach churning, he began the emergency address to the nation.

As he finished, he was jerked out of the seat at a motion from Ben. The President stopped struggling as the agents rushed him outside where panic was roaring from the streets.

“Warning! Incoming!”

The lawn speakers blared behind them. Carter suddenly understood it was too late. We’re not going to make it!

The agents literally threw him onto the chopper.

President Carter Heins huddled with his wife and twin boys as Marine One quickly rose into the air. As it ascended, the blades were assaulted with rocks, shoes, briefcases, and cell phones from doomed citizens.

The agents on the ground began to fire as a mob overwhelmed the iron gates and rushed across the White House lawn.

Blood splattered; bodies fell.

Marine One reached an altitude that cut off Carter’s view of the ground.

“Daddy! Fire in the clouds!”

The explosion was blinding. Carter kissed his wife’s teary lips as the shock wave caught up to them.

There were no survivors.

2

Only two White House security tapes survived the blast, thanks to the quick instincts of a well-connected reporter with a shark’s reputation; they were what most stunned viewers were switched to. The first was a ten-second clip, and in that short time, one perpetrator of the apocalypse was revealed.

Former President Robert Milton slid the disk into the main computer with a sneer of contempt that few would have recognized from his time in office. Once exalted, he was now reduced to message-boy for the current administration. He had volunteered for this part of revealing the centuries-old lie.

Clearly trying to hurry, the traitor looked over his shoulder repeatedly while typing in codes. He placed his hand on the scanner; the lights in the room flashed to deep red.

Stepping over a body, he took a marker from the desk and wrote on the wall before the screen faded to black.

The second tape was shorter. Only four seconds, it was a brief flash of the same traitor putting the shiny barrel of a gun into his mouth with stained hands.

There was a violent flash and the former President slumped to the floor. His message on the wall glared at the streaked camera lenses.

I did it for my country, because my country would not do it for herself.

These two clips only circulated for a few minutes before the stations airing them went to static or shots of the warheads arriving, but it was enough. Most people understood there hadn’t been a terrorist attack: the government had caused it. America, and the world, had been betrayed.

Deleted Scene #2

December 21st, 2012

Granite Mountains Complex

Press Secretary Pat Michaels sat in the rear of the large, crowded room embedded in a dank maze of tunnels half a mile under the secret military base. The compound was under attack by terrified citizens demanding the protection they knew the Essex could, but would not, provide.

This bottom level limestone command center was thick with smoke and brass; some of them had been in on the original testing of these weapons. Pat hoped his own punishment wouldn’t be as harsh as theirs. After all, they’d known firsthand what a horrible thing had been created. It was so powerful, so unstoppable, that the America above them was about to be destroyed. A new, hostile land would take its place.

The slyest of defenders since Nixon’s well used man, Pat was now useless, forgotten in the chaos. He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to be here. His family had been in New Jersey. Someone had been with him when he got the news. They’d brought him along when they evacuated from the Las Vegas convention hall, though he couldn’t remember who it had been. Amanda! The kids! How will I go on? How will anyone?

Panic was rampant. Officers barked orders, flunkies scrambled to get information, papers floated through the humid air, phones rang nonstop. Thanks to an EMP and a lucky shot from a disgruntled citizen with a grenade launcher, the Vice President was dead. The Speaker of the House was now the legal recipient of the highest seat in the land, but she wasn’t here. Neither was the new Secretary of State. No one knew where they’d been evacuated to, or if they were even alive. Those jobs were no longer in demand, and the result was chaos. That would change later, if they survived the coming missile.

This complex had been built in the 90s. It was untested and less than one hundred miles from what was about to be a direct hit. Pat shuddered. We might feel it.

Lurking near the wall of air vents and panels, the press secretary broke into a light sweat as one of the remaining clocks on the cold, sterile walls around him slid under the five-minute mark.

Washington, New York, and most of the east coast had been destroyed. Of the seven warheads the long-denied Star Wars program hadn’t been able to remove, three were going to find US targets, and maybe the two others they had lost radar on. Their own missiles had decimated countries around the globe. Now, America would pay the price.

The huge, multipicture screen in the front of the crowded room changed when the next clock hit four minutes, flashing to a satellite view of the incoming missile careening toward the Sunshine State.

Why, in God’s name, had the former president done this? This is just a bad dream. If not, millions more were going to die in…

03:45

03:44

03:43

The computer switched to full alert; alarms all over the vast compound warned of the impending arrival. Pat’s stomach churned as the ceiling lights flickered to a hazy red.

America was in the same state as this room, thanks to the convoys of soldiers taking all males, ages 10-60. The public had been told different ages, but the soldiers wouldn’t care. Those hard men had been told to get a full truck of warm bodies any way they had to. Gunfire was filling town after town. They had reports of it in nearly every major population center across the country.

02:50

02:49

02:48

Would mankind survive? Had they really blown themselves up? How much of this am I responsible for? Millions of lives were already gone… So many cultures and their histories!

01:20

01:19

01:18

Pat cringed from a braying siren in the front of the loud, crowded, tactical room. They’d destroyed the world. Was that the red stain on his hands that refused to wash off?

00:40

00:39

00:38

When was my last orgasm? He was too scared to recall what it had felt like or what the intern’s name had been. Greg? Gary?

00:25

00:24

00:23

When was my last confession? Pat struggled to remember. Did I mean it? Is it too late?

00:15

00:14

00:13

He shut his eyes and began the comforting litany from his seat on the couch, unable to make himself get on his knees even though the hour of judgment had come. “Please forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

00:02

00:01

00:00

I did it for my country...

Deleted Scene #3

Adrian once again roamed the sea of tents, unable to sleep. He was satisfied with the job Kenn had done, but he hated the aftermath. The land around them was now totally devoid of life, instead of isolated. It was foreign–like what the surface of Mars might be like. Even the smells had changed. The rot was still here, along with a hint of salty smoke, but the strongest was a thick, stomach-tightening mildew he didn’t need John to tell him was from all the dead. The sandstorm had scraped away tiny bits of decaying flesh that were then flung about in the storm. It wasn’t comforting.

“Did anyone see you?”

A man’s voice murmured nearby, one he knew well. Adrian found shadows by a dusty supply truck. It was 1 a.m. The camp was supposed to be sleeping right now.

“No. Let me in.”

The woman’s voice was also familiar. Adrian wondered if the guards had noticed them. Probably not, but they would if Kenn wasn’t careful. It didn’t bother Adrian, but the camp wouldn’t like it.

Adrian smirked. Hell, maybe Kenn can straighten her out a little and put her to use. Tonya has to have a skill that doesn’t involve her knees or her back.

Deleted Scene #4

Marc finished with the radio while Lenore led Angela through a dark, blanket lined room where five adult women and three kids were sharing a very large bed.

Lenore held open a rear hall door; she saw Angela’s expression. “They sleep together for warmth now that their mens are gone and the snow comes so unexpected.”

Angela recognized the betrayed tone. “The draft?”

“Aye. Yours too?”

Angela’s voice was just haunted. “My son. I’m on my way to get him back.”

The giantess lifted a surprised brow. “Just the two of you?”

“Yes. No one will keep me from my blood.”

Respect laced the woman’s answer. “My prayers will be with ya. Not that God listens any more now than he did before.”

Angela smiled her thanks, tensing as the wide bed, lit by a candle in each corner, came into view. She hid it and shut the door in relief. A few minutes alone at last!

Eagle Teams

Level Six

Kyle, Chris, Daryl, Billy, Shawn, Morgan, Theo, Crone, Denny

Level Five

Neil, Jeremy, Daniel, Greg, Wade, Ben, Steven, Jim, Jake

Level Three

Zack, Lee, Allan, Frank, Donald, Ozzie, Brandon, Pete, Simon

Level Three

Seth, Jeff, Rusty, Jack, Ryan, Bruce, Tommy, Joey, Robert

Level One

Kevin, Ray, Alex, Dexter, Logan, Scott, Francis, Whitney, Josh

Rookies

A number of camp members are under consideration.

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