Factions

By Kurt Kellogg

When a seated American president does the unthinkable to ensure reelection, his decision turns into unexpected damage.
Twenty years later, three teams are sent from different parts of the country to deal with the ramifications of his decision.
Their travels will bring them closer amidst ever-present danger and determine if a divided nation can draw back together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350950588

Kurt Kellogg

Kurt is a Civil Engineer by education and experience. He lives in Colorado.

Book preview

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Table of Contents

DEDICATION

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ENDINGS

TRAVELS

NEW BEGINNINGS

AUTHOR’S AFTERWORDS

SQUIRREL’S STASH

Copyright © 2024 Kurt Kellogg

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information

storage and retrieval system now known or invented, without permission in writing from

the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection

with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

Print ISBN: 979-8-35095-057-1

eBook ISBN: 979-8-35095-058-8

Printed in the United States of America

DEDICATION

For D.K.

You allowed me to vicariously join you on your travels.

Now it’s my turn.

-and-

For Jennifer. Always.

DRAMATIS

PERSONAE

666:

President Henry Archibald Booker, 48th President of the United States of America

Fleet Admiral George Moone, Secretary of Defense

Thomas Winston, Director of Homeland Security

Francisco Frank Lopez, Secretary of State

Doctor Angela Stone, M.D., Secretary of Health and Human Services

Anthony James A.J. Phillips, Director of National Intelligence

Great North Zone:

Felicity Andersen, Governor

Michael Adams, Lieutenant Governor

Squirrel, Great North Zone Courier Corps

Norman Norm Pedersen, Great North Zone Courier Corps

Heartland Zone:

Robert Towson, Governor

Samantha Sam Jones, Lieutenant Governor

Marcus Dupre, Secretary of State

Moone Militia:

Fleet Admiral George Moone, Commander-in-Chief

General Blake Foster, Commander of Northwest Forces

Colonel James Frances, Field Commander of Mountain State Forces

Lieutenant Peter Broyles, Mountain State Forces

New Texico Zone:

Philip Jackson, Governor

John Jackie Robinson, New Texico Zone Rangers

Lucia Lucy Sanchez, New Texico Rangers

Seaport Zone:

Anita Chan, Governor

Lewis Lew Smith, Lieutenant Governor

Michael Skip Carboni, Seaport Zone Courier Corps

Sheila Knight, Seaport Zone Courier Corps

The United States of America died

on its 260th birthday.

ENDINGS

Saturday, April 26, 2036

Camp David

Frederick County, Maryland

Henry Booker, the forty-eighth president of the United States, stood on the back porch of the Main Lodge at Camp David, looking out over the swimming pool. The pool was vaguely shaped like the number eight, and he briefly wondered when it had been used last before his gaze continued past.

Beyond the pool and down the hill, he could see Marine One, the presidential helicopter, settled on the landing pad. Although obscured by trees, he knew that there were four marines protecting the aircraft. Two on board, pilot and co-pilot, likely sleeping or playing cards, and two more standing outside with their backs to the copter and rifles at the ready.

Breaking away from his reverie, he glanced into the trees, trying to pick out other armed members of the military stationed in the woods. As usual, he found none but knew they were there, along with members of the secret service. The only secret serviceman that he could always see was the one assigned to him; he was standing back a few steps under the eaves of the lodge. Booker sighed at the prospect that he was never truly alone, even with his thoughts.

Ignoring the young man, he turned and left the porch to take the short walk to the conference room located in a modern building situated behind the main lodge.

Entering the conference center, especially when coming from the outdoor wilderness surrounding the camp, was like walking into another world. The main conference room was decorated with deeply-grained wood paneling and contained a wall that was a Mecca of modern electronics. Speakers and cameras flanked a large-screen television that was currently divided into nine separate squares displaying news channels, a direct connection to the White House, conversations being initiated from a console in the middle of the table, and satellite views of various locations around the globe.

Seated around the table were five of his cabinet members.

Secretary of Defense Fleet Admiral George Moone sat at the far end of the table, furthest from but directly facing the main door. As such, he was the first person anyone would see entering the room. In full-dress uniform, even away for a casual weekend, he evoked an air of authority. Admiral Moone believed himself to be second only to his president in importance, and his demeanor was one that was intended to leave no doubt with anybody else.

Tom Winston sat to his left, not on the end of the table but close to it along the side, away from the monitors. Winston was a slight man, especially when compared to the dominating presence of the five-star admiral, and a first glance would not cause people to think of him as the director of homeland security. He had been in the public eye before but often stayed behind the scenes, allowing his direct reports to field most of the attention given to the department.

At the other end of the table, opposite Admiral Moone and Director Winston, sat Frank Lopez. Lopez had not been named secretary of state upon the first selection of the cabinet by the president. He gained the title upon the departure of his predecessor, who was encouraged to retire from the cabinet by the president two months earlier. Frank Lopez was the first choice of Henry Booker and would have been named had the opposing party not needed appeasement when the president assumed office.

Midway between Tom Winston and Frank Lopez, in adjacent chairs, sat the Secretary of Health and Human Services, Angela Stone, MD, and the Director of National Intelligence, A. J. Phillips. Doctor Stone sat calmly while A. J. Phillips, a tall, angular man even when seated, methodically rolled one hand over the other.

As the president entered, all five stood and waited for Henry Booker to seat himself in front of the monitor controls before resuming their seats.

Booker reached forward, and with a sharp press of a button, hidden panels slowly moved into place to cover the cameras, monitor, and world clocks. Once they clicked shut, he spoke.

Let’s cut to the chase. This country needs to reelect us.

The five glanced at each other, none of them knowing why they had been invited. Reactions were mixed, from the raised eyebrows of A. J. Phillips to the solid poker faces of Admiral Moone and Doctor Stone.

Admiral Moone cleared his throat softly but audibly, grabbing the attention of the room. Mr. President, I’m not clear why the five of us—six, counting yourself—are in this room at this time, holding this conversation.

Oh?

Yes sir. I would think that this is a conversation better suited for your campaign team.

The president leaned back and folded his hands. "You five are my campaign team. There are others in the public eye, polling and posturing, but we need to take matters into our own hands."

Slight murmurs arose around the table. Not everything was clear, and there was a common anticipation to learn what that meant.

Frank Lopez was the first to speak after the president’s statement. Mr. President, I’m not sure why you believe that, but I’m guessing there is more beyond the request than campaign slogans and messages.

Henry Booker smiled grimly at the director and nodded. You are correct. What I need is a reason for people to reelect me. Not words or rhetoric that bring them alongside.

A. J. Phillips mulled this over before responding. Mr. President, are you suggesting that we find a way to raise your approval ratings?

Henry Booker’s hands came apart quickly and he leaned forward. My ratings?

Yes. Approval ratings are generally used as the first sign of electability.

Frank Lopez shook his head slightly. Not necessarily true. The presidential ratings over the last forty years have barely cracked fifty percent for a seated president. And yet, incumbents have been reelected, even with low ratings.

But not many.

Henry Booker and the others turned to look at Tom Winston.

What do you mean? asked the president.

Tom Winston looked around the table. What I mean is that the reelection of an incumbent is less likely now than ever before. Look at the number of one-term presidents over the last few decades.

Admiral Moone gestured for more information. Why is that?

Tom Winston backpedaled a bit. Well, certainly incumbents with higher ratings have fared well. But it’s no guarantee that they’ll be reelected, whether high or low.

But you’re saying that we have a better chance with higher ratings at the time of the election, stated the president. When no response was made, he asked again. That is what you are saying?

Yes, Mr. President, we need higher ratings.

Director Phillips nodded along at this concurrence of his own previous statement.

They all sat silently as the president considered these words. After a minute of contemplation, he folded his hands together again and leaned back in his chair. Okay, then. We raise the ratings.

Admiral Moone narrowed his eyebrows slightly, revealing a small crack in his demeanor. And how do we do that?

I don’t know, the president admitted. He then smiled. But I’m open to suggestions.

Dr. Angela Stone thought about this for a second and finally spoke. Ratings rise during responses to crises.

Explain, snapped the admiral.

Dr. Stone leaned back and folded her hands, unconsciously mimicking the president. Think about it. How did ratings change post 9/11? She thought for a moment. Or after Osama bin Laden was found?

They went up, murmured Frank Lopez.

The president said it louder. They went up. He turned to the admiral. What crises are we facing now?

Admiral Moone considered this and then spread his hands in a ‘nothing comes to mind’ gesture.

So, we need to find a crisis and deal with it.

A. J. Phillips could not help the small sound that escaped.

Everyone at the table stared at him before the president spoke up. Anything you’d like to share?

Director Phillips swallowed and answered. Mr. President, if we are facing anything, we’re already working on it. There’s simply no way to step up and guarantee a solution in time for the election.

Frank Lopez lightly rapped the table. When all turned in his direction, he spoke. What if it’s something we’re not working on?

Are you suggesting that we manufacture a crisis? asked the admiral.

The president shook his head, but not with a great deal of conviction. There’s no way we could manufacture a crisis.

Angela Stone looked at the group. There may be one way.

TRAVELS

Monday, May 22, 2056

Office of Governor Robert Towson

Denver, Colorado

On April 26, 2036, a clandestine meeting between then forty-eight President of the United States of America, Henry Archibald Booker and five of his cabinet members was held at Camp David.

A History of the United States: 2030-2060

Charles Lewiston, PhD - Western Culture

Robert Towson leaned over a computer double checking the message he was about to send via satellite network, or Sat-Net. Messages sent using Sat-Net were easily intercepted by anyone listening on the right frequency, so he had encoded it using an encryption known only to the four Grand Governors of the four Zones. If the message were to be decoded by anyone else, especially the Moone Militia, who were no doubt intercepting anything sent from the four capital cities, the plan conceived by the four Zones over the last few months could be in jeopardy. Everything depended on their communications remaining secure.

He reassured himself that the code remained valid and initiated the transmission to his three fellow governors:

2FD64 QPOOS UMP83 T4AF9 TLIZJ

L86BA Y8J4K 6ANOP JD8UY Y47P9

KAHMN U4PPD T7IS3 M96BQ GF4FR

SY97K UGD61 L48AG HM7Q3 T75FR

The computer would repeat the code nine times every two minutes, and then delete the message.

Towson grabbed a piece of paper that sat next to the computer screen as he stood up. The paper contained a series of lines that started with the original message and ended with the sent code. He had encoded the message by hand, double-checking every step, and even decoding the final message back to the original to ensure that it was accurate. He wadded it up and then went to the metal trash can next to his desk. He set the message on fire and tossed it in the can before covering it with a metal plate. Nobody else could see the message in its original format. After all, the encryption was an executive secret, at least in his estimation.

It was possible that the other three governors had shared the code with members of their administrations, and some of their predecessors may still remember the decryption sequence but he suspected not. He had personally sealed the algorithm in an envelope and placed it in his office safe. It would only be opened by his lieutenant governor, should something happen to him, or the next governor, when they took office.

The algorithm had been developed in these very offices, by a military encryption specialist, fifteen years earlier in 2041. The offices were located at the now defunct Denver International Airport, and he was reasonably sure that the specialist had taken the secret to his grave. Most communications were still open, but there were times when using codes was necessary, given the presence of the Militia and other militant groups spread out between the capital cities.

Towson suspected that each Zone had their own ciphers for internal communications. He did. But this one had been developed for use only between governments. And then not often. The less it was used the lower the chance of it being cracked by someone outside their small group.

He briefly thought back to when the code had been sent via Couriers to the other three Zones. All four governors of the time recognized that this was done at great risk, and they wanted to preserve it for as long they could. Travel across the Zones was dangerous then, and would be even greater now, a decade-and-a-half later.

Couriers, like scouts exploring the North American continent nearly two centuries earlier, were made up of some of the bravest and perhaps most foolhardy people residing in the Zones. At times it was difficult to tell which, brave or foolish. They typically lived alone and preferred exploring the places outside of major travel routes within their Zone. And when necessary, they delivered messages for the government between state capitals within each Zone. They were seldom on assignment, but still roamed the rural areas in their spare time.

In addition to the Heartland, Towson’s Zone; two of the other Zones—the Great North and Seaport—also called their scouts Couriers. New Texico to the south preferred the title Rangers. Perhaps a homage to the history of the area. Each Zone made use of their Couriers allowing them the freedom to move about as they saw fit provided they made periodic reports to each government.

Recently all four Zones consistently and separately heard from their Couriers that the Militia was growing and expanding across the north and west by recruiting separate survivalist groups. The Militia had started as a radical remnant of the United States military complex that had been fragmented twenty years earlier.

Stepping out of his office Towson ran into Lieutenant Governor Samantha Jones. She was sitting in the reception area waiting for him to come out. When she saw him take notice of her she stood up. So, it’s done?

He nodded. Yes, the message has gone out. The preplanning…

Long preplanning, she broke in.

He nodded again. Yes, Sam. The many months of preplanning are behind us now.

Did you tell them when?

I did. There’s a nice timing to this whole thing.

Sam raised an eyebrow as if prompting him to finish that thought.

He did. Timing which you suggested.

She smiled. The right time or not, it’s got to be done.

I think so too. He frowned slightly. I only hope that the others agree. Sometimes it feels like we’ve been polishing the plan forever without really accomplishing anything.

We all have to, now.

I suppose so.

He sat down and she took the cue and reseated herself. Sam looked at the governor. Do you know how they’ll get here?

He shook his head. No. I left that up to them.

And you told them where to find us?

In a roundabout way. It will take some thought but I’m sure they’ll figure it out from the message. He paused and then went on. I told them to send Couriers.

She raised her eyebrows at this. Couriers, is that the right choice for this?

I don’t know, he admitted.

She thought about this for a few seconds while Towson studied his hands. She finally spoke. It has a kind of nice symmetry to it. Meaning the use of Couriers. Thinking a few beats more, she went on, and it might increase the chances of success.

He looked up. Do you think so?

She nodded. And so do you or you wouldn’t have suggested it.

He sighed. Reaching down he pushed down on his thighs and stood up. You’re right. Deep down, I think they may end up being our best chance.

She looked up at him. And you’re sure we can’t help them out?

He shook his head again. Not yet. We can’t signal what’s about to happen until all three of the other Zones get here. Looking at her he winked. But if things go the way I hope, you can bet we’ll help them get back home when it’s all done.

And with that he walked out of the reception area and on to the bridge between what had been the airport terminal and its first concourse. He was joined by two guards that were part of the military complex now stationed at the old airport, unbeknownst to most of the public.

Sam remained seated for a few more minutes before heading into her office, also connected to the reception area. And so it begins, she said under her breath.

Office of Commander-in-Chief George Moone, Admiral

Elko, Nevada

The cabinet members included: Fleet Admiral George Moone, Secretary of Defense; Thomas Winston, Director of Homeland Security; Francisco (Frank) Lopez, Secretary of State; Doctor Angela Stone, Secretary of Health and Human Services; and Anthony James (A.J.) Phillips, Director of National Intelligence.

A History of the United States: 2030-2060

Charles Lewiston, PhD - Western Culture

There was a knock at a heavy wooden door.

The man seated behind the desk barked out, Enter. The voice was crisp, as was the uniform worn by Fleet Admiral George Moone. But his features betrayed every crease, crag, and wrinkle that the uniform lacked. He had aged and not well since his time with Henry Booker the then president and commander-in-chief. The second title being one that Moone self-acquired when Booker died.

His aide opened the door with a folder in hand. He approached the desk and stopped a few paces short and waited for permission to approach the desk. When Moone gestured him forward with a slight hand wave the aide crossed the gap and laid it on the surface in front of the admiral.

What is this? asked Moone without opening it.

We intercepted another message from Denver.

Moone leaned back and looked at the aide. Encoded?

As usual, sir.

Moone sighed and leaned forward to pull folder close.

He opened it and saw the code first:

2FD64 QPOOS UMP83 T4AF9 TLIZJ

L86BA Y8J4K 6ANOP JD8UY Y47P9

KAHMN U4PPD T7IS3 M96BQ GF4FR

SY97K UGD61 L48AG HM7Q3 T75FR

I suppose we’ve had no better luck at breaking this than before.

It was not really a question, but the aide responded just the same. As usual, sir.

Moone sat back and began to close the folder when the heading caught his eye. He rocked back forward and read it before pulling the paper from the folder to read it again. This was sent to all of the rebel capitals?

Yes, sir, confirmed the young man. All capitals were included in the message.

Moone considered this and finally put the paper back in the folder. He shut the folder and handed it back. Keep them at it. If they get anything I want to know.

Yes, sir. The aide looked at him a moment longer and Moone nodded dismissing him.

As he reached the door Moone spoke again. Tell no one outside of these offices about this.

Yes, sir.

And, Moone added, looking pointedly at the man, make sure those working on the code know the same thing.

Yes, sir.

After the door closed, Moone swiveled his chair and looked out the window. Messages had been flying between the four cities for months now—each encoded and still indecipherable. He had little hope of the code being broken. It had been used without any progress being made on that front for several years. This, however, was the first message sent from one to all three of the others at the same time. He wondered what it meant.

He stared out his window and considered the implications of a universal message.

The window faced southeast overlooking the city of Elko, Nevada. The building that housed the headquarters of the Moone Militia, referred to by the admiral as the ‘Legitimate United States Armed Forces,’ was embedded in the side of a slope that rose high above the city. It was north and west of the city. The base’s access gate, subdued but well-guarded, connected to Nevada Highway 225 east of the complex. From that gate, the forces stationed there could be in town, at the local airport, or on Interstate 80 within ten minutes.

Moone pondered whether he should react to this latest development for nearly fifteen minutes. Not knowing what it said made it difficult. He turned around and hit a button on the top of an archaic box. A voice immediately came through the speaker. May I help you, sir?

Get a message out to General Foster. Tell him I want to see him in my office ASAP.

Yes, sir. There was a slight click as the connection ended.

Less than five minutes went by before George Moone heard a single rap on his door.

Enter.

The man that came through the door wore fatigues. The admiral appraised him with a touch of disdain indicating his displeasure with the clothing. The general did not care. If push came to shove, he would tell the admiral that he had not taken the time to change since his request had been ‘as soon as possible’. After all, it was true. Moone would not accept that though, he expected more formal uniforms be worn by his officers regardless of circumstance.

Moone gestured at the leftmost of the two chairs in front of his desk. Sit down, Blake. I have something I want to run by you.

Blake pulled the indicated chair out and wedged his large frame into it. This was not the first time he silently questioned the placement of narrow arms on the chair. He was also convinced that the admiral had placed small chairs in front of his desk on purpose. The general had never asked. He placed his large, well calloused hands in his lap and sat as erect as he could in the confined seat.

We intercepted a message from Denver this morning, began the

admiral.

Encoded? asked Foster.

Yes. The message was sent to Minneapolis, Seattle, and Santa Fe.

At the same time? Blake Foster had also never heard of a single message to all three locations going out. He should have been informed but since he was in the field the message had gone straight to the admiral. Regardless, Moone had his full attention. What does that mean?

The admiral shook his head. I don’t know. I have my suspicions but wanted to get your take on it.

Foster relaxed his posture for the first time since sitting down and thought about it. Moone allowed this for a full minute before lightly tapping the desk with his forefinger. Foster looked at the tapping finger and then up at the admiral’s face. He knew that was all the time he was going to get, at least for now. Perhaps they’re coordinating an attack?

The admiral stopped tapping his finger and brought his two hands together. That was my first thought too. We’ve been systematically advancing towards those cities and testing their resolve. I suspect they’ve been talking about this.

General Foster raised an eyebrow questioningly. You think that’s been their chatter all year?

Admiral Moone considered the question before responding. I do. I just wish we could break their code and confirm it. This last was said with a touch of accusation. Foster ran the Elko facility, outranked only by the admiral.

We’ve had our computer system working on it as well as our best soldiers for years.

And yet, your best doesn’t appear to be good enough. And your computers are proving less than sufficient against human ingenuity. This was an intentional dig at the technology that people had increasingly relied upon during Moone’s career. He was not a fan, as evidenced by his paging machine and lack of hardware on his desk. To him, a century of electronic progress was impressive but not relevant when it came down to the importance of the human mind.

Foster would not dare argue with his superior although he knew that computers had saved countless lives in the U.S. military and would continue to do so. He instead slightly lowered his head in acknowledgement of the admiral’s remark.

Moone looked at the general and repeated himself, something that seldom happened. I do think they’re planning something against me. Against us.

Blake Foster considered this. Tactically they have us surrounded if they want to try something. But neither Seaport nor the Great North has any military strength to speak of.

The admiral drew air in through his teeth. Don’t use those names, they are all part of one country. They consider themselves separate from us. They are not.

Yes, sir. The general really did not care what they called themselves. He knew in his mind that they had broken away illegally. His only focus, regardless of titles or names, is that the Zones must be made to understand that this was unacceptable. They would rejoin. Forcefully, if necessary.

Moone moved on. However, you are correct. Neither the Northwest nor the Great Lake states pose a threat, other than the fact that they are east and west of our operations. The other states already surround us and currently have greater numbers.

It was not the first time that Moone silently cursed Henry Booker for using Colorado Springs as the new government center when he left Washington. Bases across the Rockies and Midwest, and even some in this state, Nevada, were all loyal to the command structure in Colorado. A structure that he did not control. This was another thorn to deal with and the primary reason for testing the resolve of the rebels. Beyond Colorado lay even more bases in what was left of New Mexico and Texas.

True, admitted the general. However, we are in places that they are either unaware of, or where they leave us alone. Were they to come after us there we would win.

Not if the four joined forces, noted the admiral. We could do well on a single front. Not three. Especially when we’re already in the middle of that triangle.

The general considered this. Do you really believe that’s what they are talking about?

Moone considered this. Absent further information? Yes.

Then they will need more than just Sat-Net to coordinate an attack. We will redouble our patrols and keep an eye out for anybody crossing boundaries between states. He had almost said Zones, but changed this to appease the admiral. We will capture them and see if we can find out more.

The admiral nodded. If you can’t capture them, take them down.

Moone Militia Command and Control Center - Heartland

Weld County, Colorado

This collective group of cabinet members would subsequently meet two more times on May 31, 2036, and July 13, 2036. The group, having met a total of three times as a group of six, would become colloquially known as the six-six-six (666).

A History of the United States: 2030-2060

Charles Lewiston, PhD - Western Culture

Colonel James Frances looked up from the message that had been placed on his desk. It had been encrypted and decoded using an algorithm developed in Elko for the Armed Forces. If the people sending their messages to each other outside of Admiral Moone’s command wanted to encode their messages, the military would show them how to do it even better. What he did not know was that the four Zones neither bothered with, nor cared about, any messages other than their own.

This is from General Foster?

The young lieutenant, Pete Broyles, was sprawled in a director’s chair across from him. He had served with Frances in an organization called the Heavenly Brigade before Moone had convinced them to merge with his military. It looks like it.

And you read it?

As I translated it, yes.

So, you know that he wants us to double our patrols and capture anybody coming from the north.

Or kill them, smirked the lieutenant.

The colonel nodded. Yes. Or kill them.

The colonel was unaware that the lieutenant’s decoded message was not fully accurate. The original message had said, ‘Capture. Kill only if capture proves unachievable.’ The lieutenant intentionally shorthanded this to, ‘capture or kill.’

Frances slapped the message onto his desk. That seems out of character for the general. He must be worried about someone or something getting through to Denver.

Pete shrugged. He could care less what the general did or did not worry about.

The colonel sat back carefully. His damaged chair creaked, and he reminded himself to not lean back too far; the chair could flip him over the back. He swiveled slowly left and right as he considered the message. Finally, he leaned forward again. Well, double the patrols then. Have more men sent up into Wyoming and Nebraska.

And towards Denver?

Frances considered this and then shook his head. No. If we find out that somebody got past us, we’ll reassess at that time.

Broyles hoped someone would try to get past.

The base was situated in Weld County and the army controlled much of Northern Colorado in the triangle bounded by Interstates 25 and 80 to the west and north respectively. A third freeway, Interstate 76, connected the two and ran diagonally through the northeast corner of Colorado forming the hypotenuse of the triangle. If anyone came in from the east, they would force them towards Kansas and catch them in open ground. If from the north or west, they would be trapped between Weld County and the Rocky Mountains. Either way they would flush them out.

The only place the army would not go, at least for very far, was to the south. Larimer County to the west and Cheyenne to the north were proving obstinate since both areas enjoyed assistance from Denver. The Militia pretty much left those two areas alone but still roamed there when they wanted or needed to.

Broyles looked forward to the day they were finally allowed to go towards Denver. It did not matter anyway. Anybody coming through their reach would not get that far. He stood up. I’ll send them out.

Pete turned and left the room.

Frances sighed and when the door closed said sarcastically, Dismissed.

Friday, May 26, 2056

Office of Governor Felicity Andersen

Minneapolis, Minnesota

The purpose of the initial meeting was to discuss producing an effective campaign for President Booker’s second term. The result of the meeting, revealed in the second gathering of the 666, ended with a collective decision to release a ‘curable’ disease upon the 10 highest populated cities in the United States.

A History of the United States: 2030-2060

Charles Lewiston, PhD - Western Culture

Felicity Andersen, Governor of the state of Minnesota and the Grand Governor of the Great North Zone, stood at the top of the rotunda in the Minnesota capital building looking south towards St. Paul. If she stood in just the right spot, she could see past the lawns of the Capital Centre Plaza and around the unused sports arena. Professional sports had ended twenty years earlier when travel between many of the competing cities had ceased.

Beyond the arena, and through the collapsed bridges that were once the interchange of Interstate Highways 35 and 94, lay the Mississippi Wall.

The Mississippi Wall had been completed a decade earlier and stood on the boundary between the unaffected states or Zones and the eastern infected portion of what had been the continental United States of America. This area, to those living in the Great North Zone or GNZ, was known as The Waste. The infected portion of The Waste really did not start until further east and well into the state of Wisconsin, but the Wall followed the river that bisected the country.

The Wall had been easier to construct in the open area once used by the railroad and the east bank of the Mississippi River, or north side in this one location, as it curled towards its headwaters. The railroad and river were convenient landmarks and the reason that President Booker used for determining its location two decades earlier. The Minnesota governor and other state leaders at the time disagreed vehemently. Nevertheless, the Mississippi River provided a second natural barrier now that the bridges that once allowed crossing the water were destroyed. The Wall sat between the capital and river, running through North St. Paul.

Every half mile or so and along the top of the Wall sat towers where members of the Minnesota State Guard could eat and sleep. They routinely patrolled a quarter mile to each side of the towers and changed out on a strict one-week basis. The guards spent most of their time looking south and east since no one from Minneapolis would dare cross the boundary. Not anymore.

Whenever Felicity looked at the small section of visible wall, she wished for two things: one, that the Wall was not there so she could possibly have a view of the river, and two, that it would have been constructed further east, outside of her state, where it belonged. She had long wished that southern portions of St. Paul and Minneapolis could be reunited.

Turning away, she looked up at the meager clouds and knew that today would be both hot and humid. It was likely that the meeting she was about to hold might also prove hot. Meeting with members of the Great North Zone Courier Corps rarely ran smoothly. Since they traveled the entirety of the Zone, her Couriers often proved to be a bit more independent than the people that lived in the urban and suburban areas around the cities.

Not for the first time she wondered if the governors of North and South Dakota felt the same way about the GNZ Couriers. Bismarck and Pierre were far away, and she had never thought to ask via their Sat-Net communications. It did not seem relevant, and you never knew who