by Ken Kreps
©2007, all rights reserved

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"Well, what do you make of that?" Kate asked.

"The world's full of crackpots. Who knows what it is."

"Think we should mention it on the air?" she said.

"No, it's still sketchy, at best. It'll probably turn out to be some drunken sailor who saw a meteor."

She wasn't convinced. "It sounds like it might be more than that. Why don't we……"

I didn't wait for her to finish "Kate, you're good at what you do, but, I've been in this business a long time. It's tempting to report something like this, but we have no proof and until we do, it's a rumor…nothing more.

"I suppose you're right. OK, Mark," she said, walking away. "I'll see you in the studio in a few minutes."

I wasn't right. As it turned out I was horribly wrong. We should have aired the story. Still, considering how fast everything happened, it wouldn't have helped. We were just finishing the broadcast when……

Kate was looking directly into the camera as she read the news. "Police report all three suspects are in custody. The bank has not yet released the amount taken in the robbery. In a related story……uh…just a moment."

An assistant producer, with a look of excitement mixed equally with horror, ran up to Kate and handed her a piece of paper. Kate gazed at the paper a moment before looking up at the camera. She looked stunned.

"I've just been handed a bulletin and…moments ago, the white house released a news brief which states………oh this can't be…I'm sorry." She said as her voice trembled. "We have just received news that Air Force One Plunged into the sea approximately forty-five minutes ago and it has now been confirmed that all aboard perished. As we reported earlier in this broadcast, the President was on his way to an economic summit meeting in France. This report is official and it is my sad duty to report to you that the President of the United States, Ethan Foster, is dead."

There was absolute quiet when Kate finished. Some people in the studio were sobbing softly, others looked stunned and were unable to utter a sound. Ethan Foster was the most popular man ever to serve as President. Kate obviously had great difficulty telling this terrible news to the American public, but she was a pro and she got through it. The network immediately went to a live feed from our Washington correspondents. It would be half an hour or so until I would be needed back on the air to cover this tragedy, so I retired to my office to collect my thoughts. I'd known and liked Ethan Foster. I saw him frequently when I was a Washington correspondent and he was a senator. Now, we know what the news bulletin was all about. The crew of a deep-sea fishing vessel in the mid-Atlantic had reported seeing a large fire- ball plunge into the sea.

My private line rang shortly after I arrived in my office. I really didn't want to answer, but as a newsman, and in light of the terrible events that had just taken place, I had no other choice.

"Hello?"

"Mark, I know your phone has a scrambler. Please turn it on," the voice said

I was shocked as I recognized the voice on the phone. I pressed the scrambler button on my phone. "All right, it's on. My God you're…………"

"That's right, Mark, its Ethan Foster, the President of the United States."

"But, sir, we have confirmed reports that Air Force One crashed into the sea. I don't understa………"

"It did crash, Mark, But I wasn't on it."

My mind was racing a mile a minute. "I'm so glad you're alive, Mr. President, but I don't follow this at all.

"I need your help, Mark, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to trust me for a while. Will you do that for me? Will you trust me?"

I still did not comprehend, but I was speaking with the President of The United States. "Why yes, of course. But why me? What can I do to help you?"

"I've known you a long time, Mark……all the way from when we both arrived in Washington. I believe you're honest and I believe you love this country. Am I right about that?"

"Well, Yes sir, I'll do whatever you ask."

"Good. There's one more talent you possess that I need," the president said.

"Sir?"

"You fly. You're a pilot. If I remember correctly you spent five years in the Air Force."

"A long time ago, but yes sir, I did," I answered.

"You still remember how to do it don't you?"

"Well sure, I've had a private license for some years although I don't use it much. Really, sir, I don't understand any of this."

"I know this all must seem very strange. Mark, we have only a few hours to save this country from total destruction. I'll explain it all when I can, but right now we have to move quickly. Do you know where Kerrytown, is? It's about 50 miles north of the city.?

His last words were burning in my mind. "Total destruction. What in God's name is going on?"

Kerrytown, Mark. Do you know where it is?"

"Uhh, yes," I stammered. "Ahh….It's uh, not very big, but I practiced touch and go landings at a small airstrip outside of town a few years ago."

"Good. meet me at that airstrip in two hours. That'll give you time to fight through traffic. I don't dare give you any longer. Make whatever excuse you need to leave the studio. There's a hanger at the end of the field. Meet me there." "All right, Mr. President. I'll do what you ask.

"One more thing, Mark," he said, his tone growing almost menacing. "No one, and I mean no one, must know about this. We're talking about the survival of the United States. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir, I'm on my way."

As I fought my way through heavy city traffic, I couldn't pull my thoughts away from those terrifying words, total destruction. And why did the President need the rusty flying skills of an aging newscaster when he had the entire armed forces at his beck and call? I'd made a somewhat clumsy excuse about being too distraught to go back on the air and left the studio. I'd covered major disasters before without blinking an eye and I knew my co-workers and the network top brass didn't buy it for a second. Still, being a network anchor carries some weight and no one tried to question me about it as I left the building.

Traffic was New York at it's worst and it seemed to take forever to reach the Parkway and head north. Still, the President had predicted the time almost exactly as I had been driving just a few minutes more than two hours when I pulled into the tiny airport driveway. The airport looked deserted.

The hanger was about fifty yards to my left. As I turned toward it I saw the faintest glimmer of a light through the small window in the hanger side door.

A voice in the distance said, "Hurry, Mark, over here."

I got out of the car quickly and walked towards the hanger. The doors of the hanger began to slide open and in the light from inside I saw Ethan Foster emerge.

"Mr. President, I……uh……"

"I know, you must have a thousand questions, but we have so little time. I'll explain what I can on the way."

"On the Way?" I asked.

"Step inside, we must hurry."

"On the way to where. Mr. President?"

The president pointed to a small aircraft just inside the hanger doors. "You can fly one of these can't you?"

He was pointing to a high wing Maule MX7 in mint condition.

"Uh……yes, I can, but I'm completely in the dark about this. I need to know more."

"And you will, but we must get airborne first. Let's push the plane out of the hanger."

It took only a few minutes to push the plane out of the hanger and climb aboard and we were soon airborne.

The flight heading the president had given me just after we boarded the plane was very confusing. "Sir, the heading you gave me. That's………that's in West Virginia."

"That's right, Mark, it a small strip in the West Virginia mountains."

"Mr. President, Uh……I've flown over the area where this heading will take us. No one could build an airstrip in that rugged country. It can't be done."

The president chuckled softly. "It can if you spend enough tax payers money. OK……you've got some answers coming. What do you know about Vice President Cartwright?"

"Cartwright? Well, he's polished if a bit bland, Seems to support you fully and has a reputation of being a solid family man. What's he got to do with this?"

"Ted Cartwight is a traitor bent on the nuclear destruction of the world including the United States. We have just hours to stop him."

I couldn't believe the president's words. "The Vice President!!"

"That's right. I know it's hard to believe. I doubted it too, at first."

"But, why……and a traitor. I just can believe………"

Without letting me finish, the president said, "The worst kind. Have you ever heard of the Krendells?"

I thought for a second or two before remembering who they were. "Well, uh……sure. Some kind of crackpot environmentalist group, but no one thinks of them as posing any real danger."

"That crackpot image is just a front. They recruit misfits from around the world to make their wild speeches. Oh, the misfits think they're the real group, but they're just dupes being used to divert attention away from the Krendells' real mission."

"And what's that?" I asked.

Without hesitation the president answered, "The destruction of the world."

"In God's name, why?"

"We recently had one of their documents fall into our hands. Mark, it was unbelievable. They feel that man has so polluted the atmosphere and defiled the natural resources of the earth that the only way to fix it is to destroy the world and let nature heal and rebuild it."

"That's absolutely crazy."

"Sure it is, but they're quite serious and very well funded. In a few hours, acting as the new President of the United States, Ted Cartwright will order an all out attack on all of what used to be called the Soviet Union. They still have most of their missiles and when their radar picks up our missiles they'll fire theirs. Most other powers that have nuclear missiles will also fire theirs and within hours much of the world will be destroyed and a cloud of radioactivity and nuclear dust will cover the earth killing most of what's left in just a few months."

"But you're the President of the United States."

"Air Force One was reported as having crashed and all hands aboard were lost. That includes me. To the rest of the world, I'm dead"

"Why weren't you on Air Force One?"

"Shortly before take off, I got wind of Cartwright's plans and substituted one of my doubles on board in my place. Poor beggar died with the rest of them."

"What do you mean, doubles?"

"I'm not the first president to use doubles. Nixon and Kennedy used them all the time. I have two. Even some of my staff can't tell the difference and those that can know to keep quiet about it. I didn't know who was loyal to the Krendells, and whom I could trust so I slipped out of the White House using some escape tunnels that only a few people know about, stole a car, and drove several hours. I called you on a secure phone when I heard the news about Air Force One on the radio. I got here about five minutes before you?"

"You actually stole a car?"

Again, the president chuckled. "Yes, not very Presidential, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Remember, I was a cop for two years before entering politics. I caught enough car thieves to know how to hot wire a car."

"But this plane. I don't unders………"

"Several planes like this are stored around the country. Only myself, and my closest aids know about them. Well, did know about them. They were all lost when Air Force One went down. I couldn't risk the plane stored at Andrews so this was the next closest one. And, I couldn't risk calling one of my Air Force pilots. I'm supposed to be dead, remember?"

"But why pretend to be dead at all? You're the President for God's sake. Can't you just step in and stop Cartwright?"

"It's not that easy, Mark. Like I said, I don't know who else might be a Krendell. There are others in the Government. The very person I went to for help might have shot me on sight."

As we flew, the President filled me in on the other details of Vice President Cartwright's diabolical plan. Apparently the Krendells were willing to exterminate most of the world's population so the earth could be, as they put it, reborn. I couldn't imagine anyone or any group capable of such horror. Soon we were over the West Virginia coordinates the President had given me. I saw nothing but tree covered mountains until the President reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny transmitter no larger than a matchbox. He pressed two buttons and immediately changes occurred on the landscape below. Rows of trees moved back, small hills literally sank into the ground and within a minute, there before, us lay a small runway. Now I knew why we were in a Maule MX7. The MX7 was a fine airplane in the air but it also possessed a rather unique quality. It was a short take off and landing aircraft or STOL as that particular ability is known. The short runway was more than long enough for us to land. The President instructed me to taxi to a small building that suddenly rose out of the ground to our left.

I stopped the plane on a large gravel area no more than 50 feet from the building. The President seemed like a man possessed as he pointed to a door in the corner of the building.

"Ethan, over there. It's an elevator."

While we had been flying I had gained back much of my composure, but now my mind was full of a thousand questions, all demanding to be answered at the same time."

"What's down there?" I asked.

"It's a U.S.C.M. I'm sorry, that stands for Underground Strategic Command Module. That's where we're going to stop Cartwright. It's nuclear weapon proof and from there we can deploy the necessary countermeasures."

"Countermeasures?"

"You'll see. I'll explain as we go down."

And go down, we did, strapped into mini acceleration seats. The trip took seven or eight minutes of heart stopping descent. The U.S.C.M. was a full two miles beneath the surface of the earth. As we plunged down into the earth, the President explained that this U.S.C.M. was one of three, the other two being in the Midwest and on the west coast. Inside, he said were launch controls for every nuclear missile in the country.

When I stepped inside, I was not prepared for what I saw. "My God, it's…." I was at a loss for words.

"I know," the president said. "Pretty impressive isn't it? It amazed me the first time I saw one of these."

It was the best the taxpayer's money could buy. A full missile control center and, as I was to Learn, later, living quarters that contained everything that a number of people would need to live for years.

"Have a seat, Mark, I've got to enter some settings in the next room." With that the president disappeared through a large metal door

I sat down at one of the consoles with my mind racing a mile a minute. The Krendells, Vice President Cartwright, nuclear destruction………It was overwhelming. A multi-line telephone sat by the console keyboard. I picked it up and to my surprise heard a dial tone. I punched in Kate Sanderson's private number and was even more surprised when she answered after only one ring.

"Hello."

"Kate?"

"Mark. My God where are you?. I knew something had to be wrong when you left suddenly."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Kate, I need you to trust me and give me some information."

"Information?"

"Yes, other than the usual messages of regret, has there been any unusual news concerning Vice President Cartwright?"

"You haven't heard, have you?"

"Heard what?" I asked.

"Ted Cartwright was aboard Air Force One when it crashed. He's dead, Mark".

"Kate, He wasn't scheduled to attend the summit meeting in Europe."

"He boarded at the last minute in place of the President. No one knows where Ethan Foster is, but we have confirmed reports that he wasn't on Air Force One. And there's more."

"What else?"

"They found the officer who carries the briefcase with the nuclear missile launch codes. You know, the one who accompanies the President wherever he goes. The briefcase was missing and the officer was dead"

I heard the president's voice, no more than 20 feet behind me as he very softly said, "Hang up the phone, Mark."

I turned around and, without speaking, hung up the phone. The President of the United States had a mean looking snub nose automatic pointed right at my chest.

"Clumsy mistake. I forgot the phones were alive. Who were you on the phone with?"

"Someone who told me about Ted Cartwright."

"Yes, poor, dull Ted gave his life for his country," the president said, as a slight smile crossed his face.

"It was you who had Air Force One shot down."

"Not shot down. Mark. I had it blown out of the sky with a very sophisticated bomb I placed onboard in a box marked executive papers."

"And the officer with the missile codes?" I asked?

"Poor fellow………a causality of war?"

"I felt sudden anger as I spat, "War? We're not at war."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Mark. We're in the biggest war of them all…a war of pollution. It's a war of the raping of the natural beauty and resources of the world….a war against those who would use this planet only for profit and their own gain."

"You're insane, Foster, and you took me in all the way. Cartwright wasn't a Krendell. It's you." I suddenly felt nothing but contempt for the man standing in front of me.

"That's right. I was recruited as a teenager. At first I tried to get legislation passed, as a senator, to bring this carnage to a stop. But eventually, I realized that wouldn't do it. I knew then I had to engineer the ultimate solution."

"You're talking about the destruction of the world, you bastard."

"No, you're wrong. The world can heal itself in time. It's the people we blame. It's them I'm destroying. Ninety seconds ago from a console in the next room, I launched every missile we have, regardless of it's destination. Soon, those countries will launch their missiles towards us. The world will be reborn. Now, all that's left is to get rid of you, so I can live out the rest of my life down here in peace."

Those were the last words Ethan Foster ever spoke. As it turned out, today was the rest of his life. When I'd first sat down, my right leg had brushed against something attached to the underside of the console. It was a standard issue forty- five automatic in a holster. I reached down and removed the safety as Kate's news about Vice President Cartwright hit home and the hairs on the back of my neck started to stand. I drew and fired in the same motion and two shots hit the President, one in the chest and the other in the head. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Foster had checked on my past military experience, but obviously overlooked one important part of my service record. I was the captain of the base competitive pistol team and we won every meet we'd ever entered. As a civilian, I still went to the pistol range each week.

And that's how I came to be a survivor of the nuclear holocaust that nearly destroyed the earth. The living quarters were spacious and contained everything necessary to sustain life including generators that would run longer than I would live, a huge warehouse of freeze dried and canned food, a complete library on compact disks and over 3,000 movies on disk and tape, and the absolute latest in personal computer hardware and software. It also contained an incinerator for bodies, Ethan Foster's final resting-place. Most importantly, it contained several Hi-powered radios with shielded antennas, which miraculously continued to work even after the holocaust. Every day, I spent hours on one of the radios hoping beyond all reason that someone else had been spared, was out there, and also had a radio. I had just about given up hope when one day during my third month in the center

"This is Mark Phillips calling anyone. Hello, Anyone. This is Mark Phillips call…"

Suddenly a voice broke in. There was some static, but I could hear him clearly. The voice spoke English, but with an accent.

"Hello? Yes, hello, hello, can you hear me?"

I was so shocked to hear another person's voice come through the radio that, for a few moments, I couldn't answer.

Again the man spoke with still more urgency in his voice. "Hello, hello. Please, can you hear me?"

Finally regaining my voice, I said, "Yes, I hear you."

"We didn't know," he said "We thought maybe we were the only ones."

"Where are you?" I asked.

"The Ural Mountains," came the reply.

"Russia?"

"Da, I mean yes, Russia."

"Then you have to be underground."

"Yes, Several miles……and you?"

"Yes," I replied. " I'm in a shelter two miles beneath the surface. Uh, you said we. Are there more with you?"

His answer shocked me. "Yes, there are twelve of us. How many with you?"

"Just me,"

"You are American, yes?"

"Yes, I am."

"Military?"

"No," I said. " I'm a civilian. I, uh……well, it's a long story."

"I have time." There was a note of resignation in his voice

"Yes, don't we all. I'll fill you in later. Are you military? What's your name?"

"No, I'm……that is, I was a member of the Russian Parliament. Several of us were conducting a one-week living test in an unused underground missile command center when it happened. My name is Yuri."

"We're so lucky we had our families with us. It's only recently we've been allowed to do so. Your name and where are you?"

"My name is Mark and I'm also in a missile command center."

"Ahhh, also unused?"

I hesitated a moment before I answered Yuri's question. " No, not quite."

"Then some of the American missiles were fired from where you are?"

"Yuri, I'm sorry. All of our missiles were fired from here."

"I see."

"If you don't want to talk anymore, I'll understand."

There was silence for a few seconds before he said, "No, it's OK."

"I didn't plan or know about the attack, " I told him.

"It doesn't matter much any more, Mark. Both countries did terrible things."

"But Yuri, we started it. Well, actually one man started it, but Your country only retaliated," I told him.

"Yes, but there were still hard-liners in our government that were looking for an excuse to launch our missiles. Your attack simply gave them what they were looking for. We're not without blame. Now we have the ultimate stalemate. Instead of a balance of power, there is no power. In fact, there are no more countries. Mark, do you think we're the only ones left?"

"No, we can't be. There have to be others who survived. Whatever the circumstances, we may be two of the few people with working radios, however."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. We just got our radio repaired a few days ago. Did you have a family?"

I thought of my family with sadness, knowing that they were gone. "Divorced, but two daughters, a brother and a sister and their families. I'm sure they're all gone."

"Yes, my mother and father and my wife's all lived in Moscow. I think there is no Moscow now."

"Yuri, you and the other families may be the start of a new world population some day. I'm so glad that families survived."

"Yes, well if that's true, I hope they all look like my wife and not me. She is much prettier."

I couldn't help but laugh at his remark. "Yes, I'm sure. Thanks, Yuri."

"For what, my friend?"

"For making me laugh. I haven't laughed in a long time."

"I know."

"Are you OK for food?" I asked.

Oh yes, for all of us for many, many years. You?"

"Yes, the same, more than I'll ever use."

"I should go now. They're calling me to dinner and they're all very anxious to hear who I've found to talk to on our radio."

"All right, Yuri. We'll talk again soon. Enjoy your meal."

"Thank you, Mark. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Yuri."

That was two years ago and we've talked almost every day since. We've become friends and our talks have come to mean a great deal to both of us. I no longer feel alone and as I get to know them, I find that Yuri and his family and the other Russian families are really not so different from other families I've known. By a miracle, they survived and they're making the best of it. They insist on holding formal education classes for their children. They've already had one marriage……Yuri's daughter, who's in her late teens, and the teenage son of another family. She's expecting a baby. Life goes on and that, I think, is what gives me the strength to continue. Mankind has come close to extinction, but we may have again found a way to survive and, if you find this recording, it will be proof that we did survive. It may take hundreds of years but man will again walk on the surface of the earth and when you do, please heed these words. Please remember, what we call civilization can be torn aside in an instant by a small group of mad men or even one powerful mad man, as Ethan Foster had done. Next time, learn from what happened to us. I have nothing but time on my hands so I have chronicled what happened in great detail. Read it. Study it. Then read it over again. Mankind will be given one more chance, perhaps its last chance This time, for God's sake……get it right!

©2007 by Ken Kreps. This short story may not be re-published in electronic or print media without the express written permission of the author. All rights reserved.

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