Phillips lets out a long sigh. ‘The weapons worked but it didn’t stop them from continuing their attacks, and we know they won’t stop until we’re all dead, so now we have to decide if we die alone or if we take those bastards down to hell with us.’
Larry sits down, thinking about what Phillips is saying, about the reality of the situation they now face. He has completely forgotten how badly he needs to relieve himself: it’s too much to think about right now, and there is only one thing on his mind, only one decision he thinks he will not be able to make alone. He looks up to the general. ‘I really need to call David.’
‘Congratulations, Mr. President,’ Phillips says, standing up straight and making another salute, this time at Larry, with several other key military personnel doing the same.
The bunker has fallen silent again, just for a moment, so that they can acknowledge that Larry has been formally sworn in as the 56th president of the United States and, perhaps more appropriately, the 12th president since this whole thing began.
He looks around the room as he thanks everyone, although he’s not sure if that’s the appropriate response. He doesn’t feel he’s earned this position and it’s not one he ever wanted. Even so, he gets a lot of nods back. Perhaps his couple of sharp observations so far have earned him some respect, and maybe some people think they stand a chance with him around. Larry wonders about that for a moment and soon admits to himself that it’s much more likely that those in this bunker are worn out and know the end is coming, and perhaps they just want to get on with it. This thought makes him sit down in his chair, signalling for everyone else to go about their business and that he will do the same.
As everyone silently obeys, he looks over at the one person who has paid no attention to these short proceedings, and seems to have no interest in him or his new title. Lopez has spent her time wisely: she kept two men back from the ceremony and has been commanding them to tap things into their computer screens. It doesn’t take long for Larry to work out what she is doing, as every time she barks an order another line is drawn across the large map until it becomes a tapestry of doom covering the entire planet.
He doesn’t have time to ask the most obvious question he feels he must ask, and quickly finds himself surrounded by people, all wanting to speak to him. It seems as if he was invisible before and now this short, but symbolic meeting has given him a status he never wanted. Phillips steps forward first, probably assuming he is the logical starting point, holding a clipboard in his hand with many scribbled notes, clearly desperate to speak.
Larry quickly holds out a hand, politely asking him to wait. ‘Could I hear from Agent Flinch first, please?’
Phillips thinks for a moment, then nods and starts to shuffle on his feet, like a desperate child wanting to be noticed by their busy parents.
Flinch takes one look at the general and then calmly steps forward. ‘Mr. President, I’m afraid to report that we have been unable to get hold of your partner, David, on the phone and have been unable to deploy any local resource to find him. Although, even if we did, I’m not sure we would be able to get him into here, as the one beast has been joined by several more, making entry to this bunker now impossible.’
Larry nods back, all too quickly, all too accepting. He thinks that if he is going to do a good job as the President he will need to toughen up and be more demanding. He wants to be like this with Agent Flinch but one look into those eyes stops him making any further demands, or asking him to leave this place of safety and fight the many monsters outside. ‘Thank you, Agent Flinch. Please keep trying.’
Flinch nods back. ‘Of course, Mr President.’
‘And the security of this bunker?’ Larry asks, suddenly thinking that David might be safer outside this place than he could ever be inside, where the beasts will continue to hunt him and his newfound title.
Phillips steps forward again, unable to keep quiet any longer. ‘Our brave men and women are doing their best to hold them back, but I fear the main doors will not hold much longer. Once they are breached I give our defensive perimeter about ten minutes before they are defeated, and that’s only based on how many lurkers there are now. If more show up to the party then for every two extra that arrive you can knock a minute off that time.’
‘And then what will happen?’ Larry asks, feeling braver by the minute, finally brave enough to ask a question that – from the fate of his eleven predecessors as president – he already knows the answer to.
Phillips gives a solemn nod in return, almost knowing this question was coming, the answer seeming to live on the tip of his tongue. ‘Well, once they carve up our boys and turn over our tanks, then we only really have the white maze to protect us. They might not come near us and they certainly can’t dig this far down. There is a high chance that if they cannot come near the whiteness then they won’t be able to search for the lift shaft.’
‘And you’re sure it’s the colour white that they don’t like?’
Phillips looks around at the small crowd, his head tilted, like he wants to nod but he’s not quite sure he wants to do it alone. ‘They have withdrawn from any snow-covered, mountainous region where people have been hiding, and since they can easily climb and jump, we have to assume it’s not the height that’s the issue – it’s either the snow or the colour.’
The admiral raises his hand, realising he finally has the chance to speak. ‘And since we know how well they can swim in any ocean, regardless of the temperature, then it’s safe to assume that it’s not the cold that repels them.’
Phillips nods to his counterpart. ‘Since we believe they come from the deepest part of the ocean, where there is nothing but darkness, then it’s logical to assume they are confused by the light colours, of which white is obviously the brightest.’
Larry nods back to both of them; it certainly makes sense. ‘So, if we believe that they will not be able to come down here, then why don’t we move those men and women from the perimeter into this bunker?’
The General stares back at him, not able to answer such a simple question.
Lopez suddenly appears, having crept up in the silence. She leans down and takes hold of Larry’s neck, her claw-like grip digging into his flesh like she’s trying to connect with him at the most primal level. ‘It is because they really are inconsequential to the bigger picture.’
‘No one is inconsequential, especially if I am to believe the calculations of how many human beings are left alive.’
She growls at him, her frustration at their contrasting views growing by the minute. She grabs his chair and turns it towards the main screens before grabbing his head, her sharp nails digging into his skin, as she forces him to look at all the skulls spread across the flattened view of planet Earth. ‘Don’t you see that we are nearly defeated, nearly destroyed? Everything we built, every human achievement, is slowly being torn down. Those people out there will die in a glorious but very short battle, as are many others around the world. They will die out there because we don’t have enough space down here, because they need to protect our lines of communication for as long as possible, and because you need to be focused on the bigger picture and not your precious David, or those dear little boys up above who are giving their lives to protect you.’
Larry tries to block her out, to refuse to listen to the obvious ending that she has already painted for them all, one that he freely accepted just hours before. He thinks back to his science lessons, to what he learnt about the human race and its climb to the top of the food chain, making it the reigning species on this planet. ‘We can rebuild. It might take hundreds of years, but we can do it, if we just preserve enough of our people to start again.’