Page 14 of The Presidents Shadow

EVERY CITY IN the world is on alert. But what can they do against mile-high tidal waves and disintegrating mountain ranges?

The news sources argue with one another. Each side blames the other. Politics, as always, overwhelms common sense. We all know there are no obvious solutions, but people are still scrambling for answers.

Many people blame the disasters on a mysterious force of nature.

Some say we have always abused the environment.

Now the environment is taking its revenge.

Others believe it is the work of the god who made us.

But what does that mean for those who don’t believe in God?

The devil’s work? But who the hell is the devil?

I have meditated. I have turned the matter over and over in my brain.

Yes, there is some terrible force at work.

But I do not think it is mystical or magical.

I do not think it is supernatural or paranormal.

What we are witnessing is the triumph of a person of genius and passion, madness and hatred.

I sit in my communications room and brood. So far there have been no reports of destruction anywhere else. But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.

A buzz and a click come from my screen. I look up and see that Maddy is outside. I use a touch of my powers to allow her in.

“Have you looked at the sky?” she asks.

No, I have not. But my reflexive guess is that horror is soon to descend—clouds that rain chemicals, stars that hail firebombs.

“Look. Just look,” she says.

I snap on the sky-screen and see a small streak of black flashes. The image becomes bigger and bigger. The small streak is some sort of space unit composed of six or seven travel units. Not quite rocket ships, not quite satellites. For a nanosecond I imagine some sort of crazy Santa’s sleigh.

It comes closer. Then closer. I feel it might actually come crashing through my screen. Then it comes to a sudden stop. It hovers motionless over our backyard landing pad.

“What’s going on?” Maddy asks.

“That airborne motorcade could only belong to one person.”

“Who?”

“Maddy, I think we are about to receive a visit from John F. Townsend, the president of the Americas.”

I stand up, click off my communications equipment, and say, “I’m going to go out and meet him.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Because I don’t want that man coming inside our home.”