Pax Americana [1]:
Part III: The Sounds of Silence
Armageddon + 72hr
Pax Americana [1]:
The Farmer was intrigued by the Secretary. The man had taken to the ruling of the Rome are with a relish, and exuded confidence and control. Frankly the man looked almost as if he was happy that the world had just ended. But that couldn’t be the case. Privately the Farmer knew that the Secretary was just as troubled as everyone else. The Secretary would spend hours at night sitting in front of a fire and thinking. A glass of some kind of spirit was always in the man’s hand at these times. He never drank a lot, but he did drink. “It calmed my nerves” he would say later. Others accused him of being an alcoholic.
The Farmer was amazed at how much had changed in Rome in just three days. Utilizing the MARS system, a radio message was looped again and again. “CEASER is in Rome. All surviving Units are to converge on Rome immediately.” Those who didn’t know that CEASER was the code name for the President before the war, were most certainly amused, but those who did know the code name came as fast as they could. Local troops appeared first, and individuals and small units arrived throughout the day. Troops from the Georgia and Alabama National Guard arrived first. The Georgians were in their home state and those few Alabamans crossed the border (which was only a few miles away) to arrive. Next came survivors from Fort Benning, the remains of the 82nd Airborne Division (less than a battalion) showed up in full NBC gear. Radiation poisoning was light among the paratroops, due in no small part to the expert discipline of the paratroopers and the lucky fact that they were on a full scale practice jump. The planes didn’t drop their troops and flew as far from the base as they could in 20 minutes. The brave air force pilots saved those troopers lives. The troops dropped over much of the area in North West Georgia, consolidated their forces and waited. They carried sad news that Fort Benning suffered a direct hit. They were the only survivors. The pilots were never heard from again. The 1,000 troops from various units that showed up by the end of the first day formed the core of the new Roman military.
As the troops arrived, the airborne unit’s Colonel took charge as the highest ranking military commander. Under orders from the Secretary he placed guards at local food warehouses and grain silos, and established patrols to keep order and show force. Elements from the National Guard with support of the paratroopers quelled the riots on the highway. With little training in mob control the action soon turned into a massacre. The riot was stopped however and the Secretary was pleased at “how quickly and effectively the men completed their mission.”
Law enforcement officers, members of the State Police, and local policemen found themselves being used as auxiliaries to the military. They were used to patrol the streets and highways and in extreme situations found themselves in gunfights with “non-cooperative” locals. “Non-cooperation with law enforcement” was now by Executive Order a crime punishable by death.
Under guidance of the Secretary the military and law enforcement began to set up food distribution centers. Gymnasiums, auditoriums, and cafeterias were soon turned into improvised food pantries. The first one was up and running 28 hours after the bombs fell. Rationed food was served and the people were given a place to sleep for a few nights. Some during the day gave impromptu movies and classes for the children while the parents figured out what to do. Most who arrived called them an “overall success” and “a good respite from the world outside.” Their opponents called the shelters “unsanitary” the rations “at best meager” and the movies and classes “thinly veiled propaganda.” There were even some reports of racism and bigotry in some shelters. Those claims were not confirmed. The opponents were labeled “non-cooperatives” and most were never seen again.
Rome quickly became a flurry of activity. The Secretary called an emergency meeting and hundreds of people attended. In his first speech, near midnight the second day, he argued that a legislature couldn’t be set up at this point. The logistics involved would take too much and people were desperately needed gathering food and getting ready for planting season, not arguing among themselves over petty frivolities. “We” he begged “need to focus on feeding ourselves, other things can come later.” The crowds erupted in applause. Emergency powers were quickly granted to the Secretary.
All of this in three days, later people would wonder how all this had happened so quickly. The answer lay in one simple fact. No one had slept in three days. Around the clock refugees, soldiers, policemen, and firemen tirelessly worked to get their new world in order. They were making things up as they went along, but eventually things were beginning to take an order, a pattern.
*The Secretary got up from his desk, stretched and walked down the hall and into the Farmer’s room. The Farmer was helping someone else; the Secretary wasn’t sure who, setting up a HAM radio. The moment he stepped into the room the Farmer and the Radioman snapped to attention. “Good morning sir!” The Farmer said. “Good morning to you too” the Secretary replied. “Do you mind if I borrow your truck?” the Secretary asked. “Not at all Mr. President, but if you don’t mind I’ll drive.” The Secretary nodded. Fuel was a military commodity and driving was quickly becoming a status symbol. “You can finish up in here?” the Farmer asked the Radioman. “Yeah, go on, I don’t need help from here.”
The Secretary was once again sitting in the passenger’s seat of the antique pickup. He had one mission for today, to visit one of the “refugee relocation centers” the government had set up in a nearby high school. The truck quickly rattled its way into the parking lot of the High school. Besides a few military pickup trucks, jeeps and Humvees, the parking lot was empty. The Farmer got out of the truck and opened the door for the Secretary. Together they walked through the front door of the school.
The first thing they noticed was the crowding. There were dozens of people crammed into every possible room, and the moment they saw the secretary they flew out to get a better look. A crowd soon formed around the Secretary, and to him it was once again on the campaign trail. “Thank you very much.” Shake a hand. Kiss a baby’s forehead. Somehow the Secretary and the Farmer found their way to the cafeteria. An orderly line snaked through every possible corner. People walked up to the couple of table at the end of the room carrying a cup and a spoon, where some mixture was glopped into their dishes. The Secretary walked over and talked with the head cook. While he was over there doing his “political business,” the Farmer got to talking with one of the soldiers from the “refugee center” assigned to guard the Secretary.
“What do you think of all this?” he asked. The Soldier responded “it’s much better than I imagined, I expected these places to be nearly enclosed riots. The people look happy so I guess I’m happy.” The Farmer nodded, “I guess I’m happy too.” The Secretary came back with a wide grin on his face. “It all looks better than I hoped for. And best of all they’re going to let me give a speech rather than watch a movie tonight, so I have to prepare one. They’re so awfully kind with their time.” He wandered into a school office, grabbed a paper and pen and began to write. The Farmer found a couch and laid down. He was getting in some well needed sleep.
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