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Thursday, April 1, 2021, 12:30 PM Eastern Daylight Time
“Mr. President, the Acting Acting Secretary of Defense is here.”
The President gelled up his hands before hitting the button on the intercom and sniffled loudly.
“Okay, send him in.”
Larry, the Acting Acting Secretary of Defense entered, a quizzical look on his face.
“How are you, sir? What a crazy turn of events.”
“I’m fine,” the President said.
“How is the security man? Durcan?”
“I don’t know, I guess he’s fine,” the President said. “He did his duty. Saved my life. That’s what they say, anyway. You feeling okay?”
“Yes, sir. It’s been a rather busy time. But I’m okay.”
“Good, good. Gel up.”
The Acting Acting Secretary of Defense reached for his holster, squirted some disinfectant on his hands, and rubbed. Just at that moment he noticed the other man in the room.
“Uh, sir, what is this meeting about?” Larry asked. “I did not get any memo on it. And who is…this?” he said, gesturing to the man at the far end of the curtains. He looked a little like a young Charles Manson, but with a long grayish beard and graying hair. The eyes were serene, however. He was examining the curtain closely.
“There was no memo. This thing last night, it makes you think. This guy? This is my new Special Advisor, Zed.”
“Zed? …Yes, sir, it would make you think.”
“Yeah, Zed.” Another sniffle. “Get the shit out of your ears. Yes, getting shot…toward… it made me think about what was important.”
“Yes sir.”
“So we’re going to do the nuclear drill again.”
“Uh, sir… we just did the nuclear drill last Friday. It is every other Friday, right? That’s what I had on my calendar.”
“Sure, sure. We just did it last Friday. But I was thinking maybe we do it again, what with the Koreans and all that. You can never be too ready, am I right?”
“Are you sure you want to do that, with everything else that’s going on right now, sir? And is Mr….”
“Zed.”
“Yes, sir, hello, Mr. Zed. Is he… is he cleared for this, sir?”
The President bristled.
“I cleared him. And we can’t let these little shooting things distract us from what’s important, right, Larry?”
Larry felt simultaneously alarmed, and unexpectedly moved, that the President had gotten his name right.
“Uh…yes, sir. I mean, no, sir.”
“So let’s call the Military Aide in. I got a new one. Old one had to go back to the Coast Guard.”
“I see.”
“She wasn’t in your department, was she, Jerry?”
Now Larry was crestfallen.
“Uhhh…no, sir, she wasn’t. The Coast Guard falls under the Department of Homeland Security. Except in time of war.”
“Maybe that was the problem.”
“Problem, sir?”
“Forget it. Anyway, I was thinking maybe we skip some of the steps this time.”
“Sir?”
The President gave another loud sniffle. “I think we’ve got the hang of it enough that we can skip some of the steps. And I would like to do the last part, with the dinner roll, myself. Maybe Zed can help.”
“Dinner roll, sir? Oh, uh, the biscuit?”
“What are we, in Alabama? Biscuit? We need to change that name too. Dinner roll. Even though it doesn’t look like a dinner roll any more than it looks like a biscuit. It looks like a plastic card with numbers on it. And the football looks like a suitcase. None of this makes any sense. I’m changing it all.”
“Yes, sir.”
The President gelled his fingers up and hit the intercom button.
“Mrs. Johnson?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Can you send the new Military Aide guy in?”
“Certainly, sir.”
The door opened and the Military Aide strode in. He was a tall Marine, masked, but in full evening dress uniform, with an extremely short cutaway jacket that exposed a bright scarlet cummerbund.
My god, thought Larry. He looks like a fucking waiter.
“You like the uniform?” the President asked the Marine.
“Yes sir.”
“The other girl wore the usual blue dress. I told them I was the President, and I wanted to jazz the place up a little. Formalwear is better.”
“Yes, sir,” both the Acting Acting Secretary and the Marine said simultaneously.
“Now I want both of you on the same page with me here,” the President said. “And you too, Zed.”
“Yes, sir,” the two men said, this time almost simultaneously, Larry struggling to catch up.
Zed merely stared harder at the piece of drape he had been examining.
“We’re gonna go through this, and any steps I think take too long, we’re gonna skip.”
The Acting Acting Secretary looked confused.
“Skip?” he said.
“Yeah, we’re gonna skip them.”
“How will they know to skip them?” the Acting Acting Secretary said.
“I’ve been talking to some of the guys in the siloes at night. I call them on my cell phone. I’ve got all their numbers.” The President sniffled again.
“Uh, sir, this breaks all procedure.”
“Yeah, I know. We got too much frickin’ procedure around here. Drain the swamp, I say.”
“Sir, you can’t do this,” Larry said. “There are a lot of good reasons for the checks we have in this system. A lot of smart people have been involved in designing this –”
“Sure, sure, a lot of smart people. That’s all I heard my entire first term. ‘You can’t do this, you can’t do that, it would break precedent, protocol, some other p word.’ Well none of those smart people were president. I’m the president. That’s the real p word. Aside from, you know, the other p word, the one I like to grab. I got elected twice. Hey Marine guy.”
“Yes sir?”
“Marine guy, did you vote for me?”
“I don’t think you can ask him that –” the Acting Acting Secretary began to say.
“OORAH, SIR!”
“Both times?” asked the President.
“Yes SIR!”
“Then you will take any orders I give you, right, Marine guy?”
“Oorah, SIR!”
“Zed!”
The odd man in the corner did not even look up.
“Zed, what do you think?”
“Blue,” Zed said, though the fabric he was looking at in his hand was gold.
The President turned back to the Marine.
“Now the Koreans, the North Koreans, like there’s any real difference, they’re all Koreans, they just shot a missile that came close to my house,” the President continued.
“Yes sir.”
“Sir,” Larry said, in an alarmed tone of voice. “Sir, I have to say –”
“You take your orders from me, right, Marine guy?”
“OORAH,” said the Marine.
“Not this guy. He’s not even really the Secretary. He’s only Acting. In fact, ACTING Acting.” Loud sniffle.
“Yes sir,” the Marine answered. “Zed,” Zed said.
“Technically,” the President continued, “when there’s no real Secretary of Defense, then I get to do the stuff the Secretary of Defense does.”
“Yes SIR,” the Marine answered.
“But the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs is also involved,” the Acting Secretary said quickly.
“Yes,” the President said.
The Acting Acting Secretary looked relieved.
“But I canned his ass last night at midnight, after all that stuff went down,” the President said. “So all his stuff goes to me too. But not before I got him to target the Russians and Iranians too. That President of Russia is saying I’m not a billionaire, after I was so nice to him. So I’ve decided I don’t like what the Russians did to those Baltic Avenue countries. It makes me look like a sap. And the Iranians keep messing with our ships. So, I say that Zed is Chairman of the Chiefs. Am I right, Zed?”
“Zed,” Zed answered.
“Listen to the man,” the President said. “So, let’s get this thing going.”
“Yes sir,” the Marine said.
“Just what are we talking about here?” the Acting Acting Secretary said. “Just the usual run-through?”
“Sure, sure,” said the President. “With a couple alterations I made.”
“Alterations?” the Acting Acting Secretary said, his relief replaced once again by alarm.
“You’ll see,” the President said. “Better yet, you won’t see. Seeing as how you aren’t really a Secretary, or even an Acting Secretary, you really don’t need to be here, do you? Why don’t you run along.”
“Sir?” the Acting Acting Secretary said.
“Beat it,” the President said. “Mrs. Johnson?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Show Mr. Jerry here out. He’s not needed here anymore.”
Mrs. Johnson materialized at the door.
“This way,” she cooed.
The Acting Acting Secretary looked back and forth between the President and the Military Aide, then at Mrs. Johnson, his brow furrowed in worry.
“This way,” Mrs. Johnson said.
Larry nodded, slowly turned, and walked out past Mrs. Johnson. The door closed.
“Now just do like I say, kid,” the President said. “I know this whole system like the back of my mind.”
“Oorah, SIR,” said the Marine.
“Come on over here, Zed, and watch.”
The President sucked more air through his nostrils. Then he pulled the challenge coin from his jacket pocket. He held it up in the air. Zed stared at it, transfixed. He began to move steadily, almost floating, toward the coin.
I think we’ll reverse it this time, the President thought. Heads we launch, tails we don’t launch.
“Open the football,” the President said.
“Yes sir!”
“Is this it? Is this the end, Zed?” the President asked.
Zed stared at the open football, his eyes gleaming. Then he fell to the floor and began to go into convulsions.
“I think that’s a big yes,” the President said.
The President felt better than he had in weeks, better than he had felt since before the virus hit him. He closed his eyes. He knew who he was now. He felt himself, the Scarlet Beast, floating high, high above the White House, high above the red-eyed crowds in Lafayette Park, the avenues raying out to the northwest and northeast, the light of dusk white at the horizon, fading to a cobalt blue above, as the first star of evening appeared straight overhead.
He opened his eyes.
“Okay,” he said to the Marine, sniffling.
“Make the call.”
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian