First Light of a New Age

Chapter 160: War in America

Earth Region, North America, North America Empire, Washington D.C, Washington, White House, Oval Office.

4th Year of God, Monday, 1st Week, 8th Month of Solomon.

The rain lashed against the tall black windows of the White House. 

President McArthur Caesar Jr. sat alone in his vast office, hunched over his wide mahogany desk littered with grim reports from across the nation. His military cap lay discarded to the side, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing scarred, calloused hands that shook slightly from exhaustion.

Every report told the same grim tale of attacks everywhere. Unknown invaders, beasts that defied reason, monstrous humanoids, even unknown factions running rampant in shattered cities. 

He picked up one of the top reports and read it again, even though he’d practically memorized every word.

San Francisco was in ruins. Mexico City lost radio contact. The industrial heartlands of Texas were overrun with creatures no weapon seemed to stop.

He tossed it back onto the pile with disgust and slid across a map of North America, the once-proud territory of the North American Empire now covered with red “X”s and shaded danger zones.

He closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Memories of the Great Transference haunted him. The day the sky itself had cracked apart, swallowing up every nation on Earth and spitting them out in this cursed alien world they were now boxed in. A world full of monsters and races that had no reason to fear human weapons.

They couldn’t move freely, not while the invaders swarmed their lands, not when entire sectors were no-go zones.

Back then, he'd told the people they would adapt, dominate and carve out their empire anew. But now? Half of North America went dark, patrols regularly went missing in the outskirts, and refugee camps filled with the broken and maimed throughout the country.

He felt the weight of every life lost pressing on his chest.

He rubbed his temple and squinted at another file stamped in red: TOP PRIORITY.

[LOST COMMUNICATION WITH FLORIDA RED ZONE. UNKNOWN ENTITY PRESENCE CONFIRMED. ALL UNITS LOST.]

He grimaced as the words made his gut twist.

“Damn this cursed world…” he growled hoarsely from too many late-night strategy meetings, too many shouted orders, and too many funerals.

He pushed himself back in the chair that squeaked under his bulk. He turned to the rain-smeared window, watching lightning dance over the broken skyline. 

The White House grounds were ringed with floodlights and checkpoints with APCs parking where tourists once posed for photos.

He ran his hand over his stubbled chin. The idea kept returning like cancer and considered the unthinkable again.

“Alliance.”

He spoke it aloud with a bitter distaste. As if the word itself was poison on his tongue.

An alliance with them.

The Russian Freedom Federation. The People's State of Xinhua. And the rest of the Capitalist Nations they had fought for generations. Each a sworn bitter enemy despising the North American Empire.

Yet, here they all were, trapped together in this hell.

He felt heat rising in his chest and could still remember the old footage of Formosa Island, now called the Isle of Ashes after a nuclear strike in the 1970s, when their bomb had turned that land into a blackened wasteland. That wasn’t something easily forgiven by Xinhua nor forgotten by him.