Crisis of Leadership By Eli Lipton
President James Isaac lay in bed, awake. It was a bad habit that lingered from adolescence, where he would wake up early and be unable to fall back asleep, due to the string of thoughts always running through his head.. Why not get up and get some work done, Mr. President? After all, isn't that what the people elected you to do? He was fast approaching the crucial point of one hundred days of Presidency. All that he had done was sign a health care reform bill and sign a trade embargo deal with France due to their habit of giving weapons-grade plutonium to Iran. It was 7:30 in the morning- He was supposed to wake up at 8. He thought back of his days as some obscure Republican Senator from New York. After a cutthroat half year of debating and a nicotine filled Election Day, Isaac was the first Jewish President of the United States.
Finally the alarm rang. He turned to face his wife, Carolyn. "Good morning hon-"All he saw was a blank spot where his wife was supposed to be laying. Oh yeah. She was in South America, stressing the importance of literacy. A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled on a pair of slacks. A short while later, he found himself in front of his senior White House aide for his morning briefing, Alex Casey. A little man of 5'2, he made up for his inept height by blazing through the political food chain like a hungry shark finding food after three days. Should Casey turn liberal and run against him in the next elections, he would face quite a challenge.
"The main concern of today, Mr. President, is a strange new virus in Los Angeles and New York..."
Isaac frowned. "There's always a new virus anywhere you go. What's so special about this one? Some new strain of the flu?"
A flash of confusion and fear ran through Casey's eyes.
"No, it's not that, either."
The door to the Rose Garden opened and in came Minnie Longhorn, White House press secretary. "You're do at the South Lawn in 5 minutes."
Isaac studied Casey with a stony gaze, and then made a crisp 180 degree turn and followed Minnie out towards the South Lawn. The sky was overcast. It reminded Isaac of the day he told his parents that he had been selected to go to Vietnam. Keep your head down. That's all his father had said. Well, the advice had worked well. One fateful afternoon in late February 1968, Isaac's battalion of Marines had arrived in the northern city of Hue. Isaac and another man, Charlie were coupled with the task of eliminating any possible sniper locations. So they crept along the many walls of concrete until Isaac spotted an open window in an apartment building. Isaac kept a lookout with his M-16, and Charlie Looked inside the window with a pair of binoculars. Charlie was shot and killed instantly. What if I had to look inside that window?
"Isaac! Where's your mind at?" Minnie's loud voice shook him back to reality.
"Nothing, just thinking about something."
"Well, in that case, start thinkin' about the speech about the education budget, Mister President."
"Oh yeah, Minnie, can you also try to get ahold of Carolyn for me?"
"Yes, sir."
The South Lawn was awash with reporters and television equipment. Secret Service agents stood at attention, and on top of the White House lay two men, one with a high-powered sniper rifle and the other with a pair of binoculars. Isaac waved to the cameras as he stepped onto the podium. He looked down at the paper before his eyes and almost rolled his eyes when he saw the first words. "Good morning, America! How's breakfast?" Note to self. When no one's looking, give speechwriter swift boot to ass. "I know you are concerned about next Monday's vote to boost the public school budget, but I assure you, whether or not the bill passes, we WILL find a way to give America's children a good future. Have a good day, and God bless."
As Isaac stepped off the podium, Isaac noticed Alex Casey running towards him. "Mrpresidentyoureneededintheovalofficerightaway!", Alex spoke in rapid- fire, and his eyes shifted back and forth. "Alex, what is this about?" "No time to explain. Come on!" Isaac noticed the reporters had left in a hurry. He rolled his eyes and followed Casey to the Oval Office. He found himself surrounded by his Secretary of Defense and various generals. Isaac pointed at the Defense Secretary. "What the hell is going on? Jacob, shouldn't you be in Florida?" Isaac then looked at the generals. "I've never seen you guys before." "We're around." one said. Alex turned on the TV. The reporter was standing on some roof in Downtown Los Angeles.
"Pandemonium reigns in America's second largest city, as citizens find themselves being attacked by...things. Rod, get that! "The camera shifted to the streets below, as a mob of people, some with knives sticking in their hearts and limbs missing converged on a group of civilians with weapons ranging from assault rifles to kitchen knives. The cameraman zoomed onto a woman who was burned beyond recognition and a chunk of meat missing from her face, and yet she was walking. The camera panned out just in time to catch the mob collapse onto the would-be defenders of Downtown. The camera returned to the pale-faced reporter, who looked just about as confused as the President. "The LAPD urges all citizens to remain in your homes, do not open your door for anyone..."
Isaac sat down at his desk and cradled his head in his hands. "What the fuck is happening? I have to call my wife." Gunshots rang outside. Jacob, the Secretary of Defense glanced outside the window. "Damn it! Mr. President, we have to go." Isaac forced himself to look outside the window. About thirty zombies were climbing over each other to get inside the White House. Zombies. There is no other way to describe them. The Secret Service was putting up a tough fight. One agent in particular let loose a volley of lead at a member of the walking dead, but still it kept coming, even with half of it's lower body missing. Isaac turned away, not wishing to see what was going to happen next. Isaac sighed and looked up. "Let's go."
Isaac didn't even find himself being aware of walking up the stairs to the helipad. He was only there in physical form-Inside he was thinking of his wife. On the way up he was engaged in conversation by Jacob Reynolds, the Secretary of Defense, Casey, and General Hood, a senior member of the Joint Chiefs.
He responded to each question absentmindedly.
"James, it is absolutely crucial that we have some sort of a functional government for the duration of this crisis."
"Totally."
"We're heading for the bomb shelter in Virginia."
"Uh huh."
"We need authorization to dispatch the Special Forces for domestic use."
"You got it."
"Godspeed, Mr. President", said a Secret Service agent, as he shot a zombie in the head, downing it.
Was the same scene in Los Angeles, D.C., and New York being repeated the world over? He sat down in the Sea Stallion. Alex Casey, Jacob Reynolds, and General Hood sat in the adjoining seats next to him. As the helicopter lifted off, Isaac looked over to Casey and very hesitantly asked him a question. "Where's the Vice President?" Casey hung his head down. "Dead. He was in New York at the time." "Damn it. What the fuck is going on?" Jacob, Casey, and Hood all responded at the same time. "Your guess is as good as mine." Isaac laid his head back against his seat. What am I gonna do? My countrymen have gone berserk, the chain of command is all fucked up, no one knows where anyone is, I don't know where my wife is...Is this a bad dream? As his eyes closed for what seemed like ten minutes, a rapid TAPTAPTAP sound jolted him from his rest.
Isaac took a quick look around and down. A Marine was laying back down in front of the Washington Monument, his finger still yanked in a death grip on the trigger of his M4, and the high velocity .223 rounds were colliding with the President's helicopter. The pilot slammed his hand down against the window. "DAMN IT!, WE'RE LOSING ALTITUDE!" Alex was saying something incoherent to Jacob, and General Hood was clutching his chest, unsure of whether what was going to strike first- a heart attack or death by falling from 600 feet. Keep your head down. Isaac's father's voice drilled in his head repeatedly. The ground was approaching fast, and Isaac placed both his arms over his cranium. LET ME LIVE! The last thing Isaac remembered was the sound of crunching steel and shattering glass.
The first thing he was aware of was the smell of smoke and the crackling of fire- There was a throbbing pain in his lower back and something was dripping on his eyes. "Mm...ah.." What the fuck happened...? Isaac opened his eyes. There, above him, was the corpse of the helicopter pilot. A deep gash was centered right above the man's nasal cavity, and it had been dripping blood on the President's face for god-knows-how long. Isaac glanced to his left. The door was blocked by rubble. Same way on the right. The only way out was up. He took ahold of a landing strut that protruded from the floor of the aircraft and pulled himself up and out the window. It was about twilight. It was early noon when the world ended, wasn't it? As the President stood up, he became subject to the pool of dead bodies all around him. "Oh my god.." He also became aware of the steady number of walking corpses that had arrived at his position. It sure as hell wasn't no welcome party.
Don't think! Act! Isaac did the only thing a man without a weapon could do- Run! The corpses gave chase- They were somewhat fast, with arms outstretched and ready to give Isaac a hug. He noticed a discarded Canadian .45 handgun on the ground below him. Isaac scooped the gun up. He did a 180 and placed a single shot into the zombie's skull. He trained the gun on another zombie and pulled the trigger-No dice. DAMN IT! Isaac closed his eyes, ready for his fate, but then the report of numerous assault rifles forced him to open them. A troupe of mixed peoples, some wearing fatigues and others Fubu shirts met his gaze.
"Mr. President! Thank god you're alive, come with us!"
So, what do you think? Should I continue writing this?
President James Isaac lay in bed, awake. It was a bad habit that lingered from adolescence, where he would wake up early and be unable to fall back asleep, due to the string of thoughts always running through his head.. Why not get up and get some work done, Mr. President? After all, isn't that what the people elected you to do? He was fast approaching the crucial point of one hundred days of Presidency. All that he had done was sign a health care reform bill and sign a trade embargo deal with France due to their habit of giving weapons-grade plutonium to Iran. It was 7:30 in the morning- He was supposed to wake up at 8. He thought back of his days as some obscure Republican Senator from New York. After a cutthroat half year of debating and a nicotine filled Election Day, Isaac was the first Jewish President of the United States.
Finally the alarm rang. He turned to face his wife, Carolyn. "Good morning hon-"All he saw was a blank spot where his wife was supposed to be laying. Oh yeah. She was in South America, stressing the importance of literacy. A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled on a pair of slacks. A short while later, he found himself in front of his senior White House aide for his morning briefing, Alex Casey. A little man of 5'2, he made up for his inept height by blazing through the political food chain like a hungry shark finding food after three days. Should Casey turn liberal and run against him in the next elections, he would face quite a challenge.
"The main concern of today, Mr. President, is a strange new virus in Los Angeles and New York..."
Isaac frowned. "There's always a new virus anywhere you go. What's so special about this one? Some new strain of the flu?"
A flash of confusion and fear ran through Casey's eyes.
"No, it's not that, either."
The door to the Rose Garden opened and in came Minnie Longhorn, White House press secretary. "You're do at the South Lawn in 5 minutes."
Isaac studied Casey with a stony gaze, and then made a crisp 180 degree turn and followed Minnie out towards the South Lawn. The sky was overcast. It reminded Isaac of the day he told his parents that he had been selected to go to Vietnam. Keep your head down. That's all his father had said. Well, the advice had worked well. One fateful afternoon in late February 1968, Isaac's battalion of Marines had arrived in the northern city of Hue. Isaac and another man, Charlie were coupled with the task of eliminating any possible sniper locations. So they crept along the many walls of concrete until Isaac spotted an open window in an apartment building. Isaac kept a lookout with his M-16, and Charlie Looked inside the window with a pair of binoculars. Charlie was shot and killed instantly. What if I had to look inside that window?
"Isaac! Where's your mind at?" Minnie's loud voice shook him back to reality.
"Nothing, just thinking about something."
"Well, in that case, start thinkin' about the speech about the education budget, Mister President."
"Oh yeah, Minnie, can you also try to get ahold of Carolyn for me?"
"Yes, sir."
The South Lawn was awash with reporters and television equipment. Secret Service agents stood at attention, and on top of the White House lay two men, one with a high-powered sniper rifle and the other with a pair of binoculars. Isaac waved to the cameras as he stepped onto the podium. He looked down at the paper before his eyes and almost rolled his eyes when he saw the first words. "Good morning, America! How's breakfast?" Note to self. When no one's looking, give speechwriter swift boot to ass. "I know you are concerned about next Monday's vote to boost the public school budget, but I assure you, whether or not the bill passes, we WILL find a way to give America's children a good future. Have a good day, and God bless."
As Isaac stepped off the podium, Isaac noticed Alex Casey running towards him. "Mrpresidentyoureneededintheovalofficerightaway!", Alex spoke in rapid- fire, and his eyes shifted back and forth. "Alex, what is this about?" "No time to explain. Come on!" Isaac noticed the reporters had left in a hurry. He rolled his eyes and followed Casey to the Oval Office. He found himself surrounded by his Secretary of Defense and various generals. Isaac pointed at the Defense Secretary. "What the hell is going on? Jacob, shouldn't you be in Florida?" Isaac then looked at the generals. "I've never seen you guys before." "We're around." one said. Alex turned on the TV. The reporter was standing on some roof in Downtown Los Angeles.
"Pandemonium reigns in America's second largest city, as citizens find themselves being attacked by...things. Rod, get that! "The camera shifted to the streets below, as a mob of people, some with knives sticking in their hearts and limbs missing converged on a group of civilians with weapons ranging from assault rifles to kitchen knives. The cameraman zoomed onto a woman who was burned beyond recognition and a chunk of meat missing from her face, and yet she was walking. The camera panned out just in time to catch the mob collapse onto the would-be defenders of Downtown. The camera returned to the pale-faced reporter, who looked just about as confused as the President. "The LAPD urges all citizens to remain in your homes, do not open your door for anyone..."
Isaac sat down at his desk and cradled his head in his hands. "What the fuck is happening? I have to call my wife." Gunshots rang outside. Jacob, the Secretary of Defense glanced outside the window. "Damn it! Mr. President, we have to go." Isaac forced himself to look outside the window. About thirty zombies were climbing over each other to get inside the White House. Zombies. There is no other way to describe them. The Secret Service was putting up a tough fight. One agent in particular let loose a volley of lead at a member of the walking dead, but still it kept coming, even with half of it's lower body missing. Isaac turned away, not wishing to see what was going to happen next. Isaac sighed and looked up. "Let's go."
Isaac didn't even find himself being aware of walking up the stairs to the helipad. He was only there in physical form-Inside he was thinking of his wife. On the way up he was engaged in conversation by Jacob Reynolds, the Secretary of Defense, Casey, and General Hood, a senior member of the Joint Chiefs.
He responded to each question absentmindedly.
"James, it is absolutely crucial that we have some sort of a functional government for the duration of this crisis."
"Totally."
"We're heading for the bomb shelter in Virginia."
"Uh huh."
"We need authorization to dispatch the Special Forces for domestic use."
"You got it."
"Godspeed, Mr. President", said a Secret Service agent, as he shot a zombie in the head, downing it.
Was the same scene in Los Angeles, D.C., and New York being repeated the world over? He sat down in the Sea Stallion. Alex Casey, Jacob Reynolds, and General Hood sat in the adjoining seats next to him. As the helicopter lifted off, Isaac looked over to Casey and very hesitantly asked him a question. "Where's the Vice President?" Casey hung his head down. "Dead. He was in New York at the time." "Damn it. What the fuck is going on?" Jacob, Casey, and Hood all responded at the same time. "Your guess is as good as mine." Isaac laid his head back against his seat. What am I gonna do? My countrymen have gone berserk, the chain of command is all fucked up, no one knows where anyone is, I don't know where my wife is...Is this a bad dream? As his eyes closed for what seemed like ten minutes, a rapid TAPTAPTAP sound jolted him from his rest.
Isaac took a quick look around and down. A Marine was laying back down in front of the Washington Monument, his finger still yanked in a death grip on the trigger of his M4, and the high velocity .223 rounds were colliding with the President's helicopter. The pilot slammed his hand down against the window. "DAMN IT!, WE'RE LOSING ALTITUDE!" Alex was saying something incoherent to Jacob, and General Hood was clutching his chest, unsure of whether what was going to strike first- a heart attack or death by falling from 600 feet. Keep your head down. Isaac's father's voice drilled in his head repeatedly. The ground was approaching fast, and Isaac placed both his arms over his cranium. LET ME LIVE! The last thing Isaac remembered was the sound of crunching steel and shattering glass.
The first thing he was aware of was the smell of smoke and the crackling of fire- There was a throbbing pain in his lower back and something was dripping on his eyes. "Mm...ah.." What the fuck happened...? Isaac opened his eyes. There, above him, was the corpse of the helicopter pilot. A deep gash was centered right above the man's nasal cavity, and it had been dripping blood on the President's face for god-knows-how long. Isaac glanced to his left. The door was blocked by rubble. Same way on the right. The only way out was up. He took ahold of a landing strut that protruded from the floor of the aircraft and pulled himself up and out the window. It was about twilight. It was early noon when the world ended, wasn't it? As the President stood up, he became subject to the pool of dead bodies all around him. "Oh my god.." He also became aware of the steady number of walking corpses that had arrived at his position. It sure as hell wasn't no welcome party.
Don't think! Act! Isaac did the only thing a man without a weapon could do- Run! The corpses gave chase- They were somewhat fast, with arms outstretched and ready to give Isaac a hug. He noticed a discarded Canadian .45 handgun on the ground below him. Isaac scooped the gun up. He did a 180 and placed a single shot into the zombie's skull. He trained the gun on another zombie and pulled the trigger-No dice. DAMN IT! Isaac closed his eyes, ready for his fate, but then the report of numerous assault rifles forced him to open them. A troupe of mixed peoples, some wearing fatigues and others Fubu shirts met his gaze.
"Mr. President! Thank god you're alive, come with us!"
So, what do you think? Should I continue writing this?