Truitt’s hood,” Voss said.
Kawecki obeyed, and Truitt blinked repeatedly as his eyes adjusted to the light. He had dark skin and a receding hairline. Judging from the amount of white hair in his neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, Truitt was in his late fifties. He had a deep basso voice that thousands of people were familiar with. “Mr. President! This is both an honor and a pleasure.”
“Thank you for coming so far to see me,” Voss said as he stepped forward to shake hands. “I’m sorry about the hood.”
“There’s no need to be. I understand,” Truitt assured him, as he looked up at the dramatic formations that circled the main gallery. “It isn’t the White House—but it’s very beautiful.”
“Yes,” Voss replied. “I agree. Please take a seat. I’m told that breakfast is on the way—and we can talk while we’re waiting.”
Once the two men were seated, Truitt produced a battery-powered recorder, which he placed on the table between them. Having plugged a mike into the machine, he turned it on. “Are you ready, Mr. President?”
Voss smiled. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good,” Truitt replied. “The first question will follow my introduction.”
Voss couldn’t help but notice the way the timbre of Truitt’s voice changed as his radio persona took over. “This is George Truitt. I am with Thomas Voss, the acting President of the United States, reporting to you from an undisclosed location in Arkansas. It’s early in the morning, the President is sipping a cup of coffee, and appears to be in good health.”
Truitt paused as he repositioned the microphone. “First, before we go any further, could you comment on how you came to be President? As I understand it, you were Assistant Secretary of Interior during the previous administration.”
Voss was expecting the question and had an answer ready. “As Assistant Secretary of Interior I was subordinate to a person on the succession list. And, if someone on the official list steps forward, I will immediately surrender the reins of government to them. But,” Voss continued, “no one has done so thus far. Probably because all of them are dead. So, as acting President, I’m trying to do everything in my power to protect our citizens and take our country back from the Chimera.”
“And that brings us to the attack on the tower in New York,” Truitt said, as a cup of coffee and a huge cinnamon roll arrived at his elbow. “Tell us about that.”
Even though the attack had been a horrible failure, Voss knew it was the only thing he had to support his claim that he was trying to take the country back. So he was eager to explain the tower’s function, and why it was so important that he and a group of volunteers had attempted to shut it down.
“Finally,” Voss concluded somberly, “all we could do was run. We went east, towards the river, which was clogged with chunks of drifting ice. At least a dozenHybrids were on our tails, so we jumped onto a passing floe in hopes that they would give up. They didn’t.
“That was the beginning of a horrible death dance. As we jumped from one chunk of ice to the next, they fired at us and we fired at them,” Voss said darkly. “But we eventually whittled them down, and Captain Kawecki killed the last of them, as the floe carried us past Governor’s Island and out toward the Statue of Liberty. It took some fancy footwork, but we were able to get off the ice, and scramble ashore in Jersey City. It was a long walk to Arkansas, but we made it.”
Truitt had managed to eat a couple of bites of cinnamon roll and wash them down with coffee by then. “So what now, Mr. President? Are you planning further attacks?”
“I can’t address the possibility of more attacks for security reasons,” Voss answered. “But I do have a very exciting announcement to make … one that will improve the lives of our citizens and prepare the way for a counterattack.”
Truitt brightened. “I’m all
Kawecki obeyed, and Truitt blinked repeatedly as his eyes adjusted to the light. He had dark skin and a receding hairline. Judging from the amount of white hair in his neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, Truitt was in his late fifties. He had a deep basso voice that thousands of people were familiar with. “Mr. President! This is both an honor and a pleasure.”
“Thank you for coming so far to see me,” Voss said as he stepped forward to shake hands. “I’m sorry about the hood.”
“There’s no need to be. I understand,” Truitt assured him, as he looked up at the dramatic formations that circled the main gallery. “It isn’t the White House—but it’s very beautiful.”
“Yes,” Voss replied. “I agree. Please take a seat. I’m told that breakfast is on the way—and we can talk while we’re waiting.”
Once the two men were seated, Truitt produced a battery-powered recorder, which he placed on the table between them. Having plugged a mike into the machine, he turned it on. “Are you ready, Mr. President?”
Voss smiled. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good,” Truitt replied. “The first question will follow my introduction.”
Voss couldn’t help but notice the way the timbre of Truitt’s voice changed as his radio persona took over. “This is George Truitt. I am with Thomas Voss, the acting President of the United States, reporting to you from an undisclosed location in Arkansas. It’s early in the morning, the President is sipping a cup of coffee, and appears to be in good health.”
Truitt paused as he repositioned the microphone. “First, before we go any further, could you comment on how you came to be President? As I understand it, you were Assistant Secretary of Interior during the previous administration.”
Voss was expecting the question and had an answer ready. “As Assistant Secretary of Interior I was subordinate to a person on the succession list. And, if someone on the official list steps forward, I will immediately surrender the reins of government to them. But,” Voss continued, “no one has done so thus far. Probably because all of them are dead. So, as acting President, I’m trying to do everything in my power to protect our citizens and take our country back from the Chimera.”
“And that brings us to the attack on the tower in New York,” Truitt said, as a cup of coffee and a huge cinnamon roll arrived at his elbow. “Tell us about that.”
Even though the attack had been a horrible failure, Voss knew it was the only thing he had to support his claim that he was trying to take the country back. So he was eager to explain the tower’s function, and why it was so important that he and a group of volunteers had attempted to shut it down.
“Finally,” Voss concluded somberly, “all we could do was run. We went east, towards the river, which was clogged with chunks of drifting ice. At least a dozenHybrids were on our tails, so we jumped onto a passing floe in hopes that they would give up. They didn’t.
“That was the beginning of a horrible death dance. As we jumped from one chunk of ice to the next, they fired at us and we fired at them,” Voss said darkly. “But we eventually whittled them down, and Captain Kawecki killed the last of them, as the floe carried us past Governor’s Island and out toward the Statue of Liberty. It took some fancy footwork, but we were able to get off the ice, and scramble ashore in Jersey City. It was a long walk to Arkansas, but we made it.”
Truitt had managed to eat a couple of bites of cinnamon roll and wash them down with coffee by then. “So what now, Mr. President? Are you planning further attacks?”
“I can’t address the possibility of more attacks for security reasons,” Voss answered. “But I do have a very exciting announcement to make … one that will improve the lives of our citizens and prepare the way for a counterattack.”
Truitt brightened. “I’m all
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