The Last American President

N.E.C Year -4 (2041 A.D.)

The chatter in the halls of the Senate building was bustling with fear and uncertainty. The America First Party had managed to sweep the elections yet again, but things hadn't gone over quite as smoothly this time. Some of the higher-ups in the party were starting to get concerned about what they called 'contested loyalties.' People were rioting in the streets and lines were being drawn in the sand. The country was on the brink of another civil war, and there was only one person who could stop it. At least that's what he thought.

The president looked around the room. This was a disaster waiting to happen. Those damn leftists were getting out of control and starting to organize. The violence in the streets had led to a significant boiling point, and something had to be done to stop it. The iron fist was the only option. Those liberal degenerates and pompous commie sympathizers who wanted the country to break down and join the NEC were all going to be dealt with in one swoop. He just had to be smooth and say precisely the right thing. It was what had gotten him this far in politics in the first place.

He thought back to nine months ago when they had won the election. It was a total landslide for the party. They won every single electoral vote. The whole thing was rigged, of course, but it was still a great victory nonetheless. People were scared by the things happening across the rest of the world, so they turned to him, the anti-politician, for help.

He promised up and down to rid the country of red influence and get things back to the old America that everyone had known and loved. He would bring in jobs, wealth and everything that came with it. He had no idea how he was actually going to do any of those things, but he figured that four years in office was probably enough time to work something out.

He had already made plans with the Brits to form a federation against the NEC, and they were well on their way to providing India with nuclear arms to take out the Chinese. Except for all of the rabble-rousers in the capital doing their protests, things were actually going better than expected.

The protests weren't something that he was expecting at all. There would be some blow-back from his party taking all of the seats in the house and senate, sure, but he figured that they would all accept the democratic process and understand that it's just the way things went sometimes. He realized now that he didn't give the people on the other side enough credit to see through what had been happening. He figured that someone would probably find something out eventually, but he could deal with that when he came to it.

He had only been in office for about six months at that point, and things were already starting to spiral out of control. In the time since he had taken office, the Chinese broke out against the NEC and began annexing more territory in southeast Asia. Then protests in Texas against him had led to a military crackdown and almost 200 deaths, and the sanctions from the NEC following those deaths were threatening to cut off most of what his country needed to survive the next few years. Things were at a tipping point, so he called for an emergency session of Congress and set out to solve their problems.

He stood up and adjusted his tie while looking down at the small glass teleprompter that held his speech. He pushed a button on the table, and the prompter began playing.

"My fellow Americans," he started, trying to radiate as much confidence as he could.

"We live in trying times. Death and madness is happening all over the world, and we are the last true bastion of freedom left to stop it."

He paused for a round of inevitable cheers, but less came than he was expecting.

"I know that we have problems, but I'm here today to tell you that we can solve those problems. My top strategists and I have come up with a plan to eradicate the red menace that is plaguing our world. They are the ones who staged those protests in Dallas and started the fight which left so many American lives lost. They are nothing but Chinese and NEC backed muckrakers who want to see our liberty torn down and replaced with the oppressive force of socialism!"

Some more cheers, but even less than before. He had to say something to save this thing, and he had to do it fast.

"I promise, here and now before all of our country, that with the plan that we have set in motion, all of the things that are working against the American people will be dealt with by this time next year."

That would have to do it, what else could they possibly want?

"How?" Someone asked, it looked like one of the senators from Iowa, but he couldn't tell.

"The same way we set out to do when I started my campaign." The president continued.

"We're going to make this country great once more, just like how it used to be!" He yelled into the mic.

"When?" another voice from the crowd.

"Soon." The president started again, losing his nerve a little bit. When even his side was starting to ask real questions, it was a bad sign of things to come.

Dead silence. Not a clap in the entire room.

He scanned the audience and could see an identical look on all of their faces. They had the look of someone who realized that the pretty girl that they had been talking up at the bar all evening had turned out to be a lady of the night. They had been duped, and they knew it.

This was a moment that was very familiar to the president. He had stress dreams of something exactly like this happening to him on a near weekly basis since the protests started. Usually, in the dream he was only in his underwear or something like that, but the basic premise was still the same. He had been found out, and he couldn't escape it. The whole country was watching and waiting, and he didn't have anything for them.

"America…" he started with a stutter.

He cleared his throat.

"America will be the place that we remember it. It will be free from red influence and government oppression and back on the path that God intended for it!"

Still nothing. They were starting to look around like they had everything figured out. The confusion was turning into rage on their faces right before his eyes. He let out a silent prayer to his lord above. Give him something, anything to take the prying and judgmental eyes off him. He was just a stooge who was given a microphone. That's all he had ever wanted to be. How could he have known that all this other bullshit would be popping up as soon as he got into power?

He was just supposed to get in, sign off on some executive orders to deregulate business and commerce and watch the money flood into both the big business' and his own private accounts. This wasn't at all what he had signed up for. There had to be some way out of all of this.

Then, as if God himself had heard the poor stooge's plea, something actually did happen to take everyone's attention off of him. The doors burst open wide, and a flood of a dozen armed rebels stormed in with machine guns and began firing at everyone in sight.

The president was quickly pushed down by the secret service and rushed off to the side of the stage. It was his nightmare coming true all around him, and he began to panic. Things weren't supposed to happen like this. It wasn't fair. He did everything exactly as he was told. Who could he possibly blame for this major catastrophe? Certainly, not himself. He was just a pawn, after all.

As he pondered this in a rush of moving bodies and bullets, he looked out from behind where he had been ducking with his secret service agents returning fire and saw many of the people who had put him in the presidential seat being gunned down around him.

First, he saw the young upstart senator from Kentucky lose half of his face and flop down a row of seats. When he finally came to a rest, he was cocked at just the right angle for the president to see the awful mess that was left of his face.

The president frowned and turned his head up towards the podium to see one of his oldest colleagues, the now-speaker of the Senate, slumped over in his chair, bleeding from his chest. He was dead, but his eyes were still open. The president could see the last look he had on his face. He was shocked, just like the president, he couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

The president looked away again, he couldn't shake the feeling that the speaker was blaming him for all of this. He had a look on his face, something like "I told you so, you moron," or at least that's what the president imagined that he would say.

The cacophony of gunshots and screams were filling the grand hall, and the two secret service agents that had been covering the president had both gone down. He took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time that he had been in the shit. When he was in his early 20's, he did a tour in Iraq. It was mostly just for show, but he had learned a thing or two in his army days.

He reached down slowly and picked up the service pistol that his now-dead guard had left behind.

Goddamned bastards. How dare they ruin this for him? Did they know how hard he had worked for this? How many millions of dollars that he had personally spent just to get himself to this point? What did they ever do with their lives? They were the types that wanted to turn the land of opportunity into a filthy red cesspool of re-distributed wealth and smothering regulations.

"You filthy pricks!" The president screamed, blindly firing towards the general area that he thought the attackers were in. He heard more screams, but he was pretty sure the only person he hit was one of the representatives from Wyoming. No great loss, he thought as he re-loaded.

He fired a few more shots but could see that things were steadily moving from bad to worse. The military had already shown up and was fighting outside on the steps of the building. He had no doubt that they would eventually push back the attackers, but he didn't know if they would be in time to save him.

He poked his head out above the row of chairs that he was behind and scanned the area. He learned two things. Firstly, there was no way he was making out of here on his own. There must have been at least twenty of the attackers still standing in the room. Secondly, it was the rep from Wyoming that he had shot, or at least he was pretty sure. She was dead either way, as were most of the people that he was addressing only a few minutes ago.

At that moment something clicked in his head. This could be an excellent opportunity for him. Now that just about everyone else was dead, there wouldn't be anyone left to stand up against him. This attack was the keys to the kingdom for him. He could force the moderates that still remained in the country to pick his side by pointing out the brutality and ruthlessness of the opposition. Then he could take them all out, the Chinese and NEC both without due process even coming into play. He could spin it as an attack instigated by foreign sources, and no one would doubt it. If he weren't already the president, he would be sure that this was already some kind of false flag or something like that. The circumstances were just too perfect.

"He's over here!" one of the attackers shouted.

The president went into a panic. If they got to him before the military took them out, then there was no telling what they would do to him. He had to think of an escape plan, and he had to do it immediately.

Think of something, he told himself. You can do this, you are the great leader that these people needed. You are the best thing to happen to this country since Reagan. You are the boss, and nothing can stop you.

That little bit of positive thinking did nothing for him. As it turns out, when you spend your life propping yourself onto the shoulders of everyone around you to get ahead, when they're all gone, you have no support.

He looked down to the pistol in his hand, and an idea came to him. If he died here, he would become a martyr. Someone remembered by the people for thousands of years for fighting for what he believed in. The mere mention of his name would produce a surge of American pride to all the future citizens of his great country.

However, if he did die at the hands of these liberal bastards, it probably wouldn't be quick. They would kidnap him and torture him in brutal ways for hours before finally executing him. How did he know that? Because it's exactly what he would have done if he were in their shoes. They were animals, and animals couldn't be reasoned with.

If he was going to die here, then it was going to be on his terms. It couldn't look like a suicide though, he thought. That would just make him a coward who couldn't face his fate like a man. He thought maybe that if he shot himself in the chest, he could throw the gun as far away from himself that no one would connect the dots. It was a ridiculous plan, but he was running out of options and time.

He slowly put the pistol up to his chest and took a deep breath in. He wanted to pull the trigger and make a martyr out of himself, but then he remembered something. He actually was a coward and didn't want to die. He told himself again that there was no choice and tried to force himself to pull the trigger, but nothing happened. He couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried.

"Son of a bitch!" He accidentally yelled.

He looked up to find three of the attackers around him with their rifles thrust into his face. He quickly dropped the gun and put his hands up.

"We can talk about this." He tried to say as they stood him up. "It doesn't have to go this way."

"Shut the fuck up, pig." He heard one of them say.

"You aren't talking your way out of this one," another chimed in.

One of them yelled to the others trying to keep the door secured. "How much time do we have?"

"Not long." One of the men at the door shouted back. "Maybe five more minutes or so."

"Perfect." The one who told him to shut up said. "That should be just enough time."

They started to pick the president up, but he was fighting back with everything in his power. Eventually, they got him to his feet and walked him over to the podium where had planned on giving his original speech. The cameras were all still rolling, and he had seen some of the attackers recording him too.

"Say your name." One of the attackers asked.

"Fuck you." The president responded, spitting at the one closest to him.

Two of them walked behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders, the third took the pistol that the president had and put it against the side of his head.

"One more chance, pig. Say your name and answer a few questions for us and you can walk out of here alive. If you lie, you die. I'm sure that must be difficult for you, but you don't have a choice."

The president looked straight into the camera, trying to cover his fear. Maybe if he could at least do this, then people would remember him for his bravery in the face of opposition. There was still time to save himself.

"My name is J. Henry Richards, and I am the 51st president of these great United States." He said, steeling his resolve.

"Who ordered the attacks on civilians during the protests in Dallas last month?" One of them asked.

He coughed. "I can't say for sure." He started.

The one holding the gun to his head cocked it and put his finger over the trigger. "You sure about that?" he asked.

"I did it." He said, his composure starting to falter. "I ordered the military to put down any protesters before things got out of hand. I had no idea that so many would die. You have to believe me!"

The president started to sniffle. He could see the look in the eyes of the men in the room and knew that there wasn't any way that he was going to make it out of this. Maybe he could at least set things right if it was the last thing that he did. He still had a chance to at least salvage the memory that people would hold of him.

"Did you or anyone in your campaign attempt to rig the election in any way?" Another one of the attackers asked.

"Yes." The president said, quietly.

"What was that?" The man pointing the gun at him asked.

"Yes!" He yelled.

"It was rigged! We had someone hack the booths, and we bought the electoral vote! It doesn't matter now, though. The people still made their voices heard. They wanted change! They wanted something different! They wanted a return to the times that we had before when America was the best country on the planet, and I know I can be the one who makes it happen!"

They were laughing at him now. If there was one thing that he hated more than anything else in the world, it was when people laughed at him. He was someone to be respected. He cleared a million dollars at least every week since he was in his 20's. He was the leader of the goddamned free world. Who were these red punks to laugh at him?

"Stop laughing!" He yelled, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

The one with the pistol punched the president in the stomach and forced him to his knees. The others gathered around him, pointing their cameras at him.

This was it. All of his life had led up to this moment. Every dirty deal, back-room betrayal, and lie that he told flashed through his mind in that instant. Despite how it was going to end for him, he couldn't help but think that it was all worth it. He also hoped, deep down, that all of the extreme religious fanaticism that he and his cronies had used as the base of their platform wasn't real. If it was, then he was undoubtedly destined for hell.

Just like before, as if the great and merciful God that he pretended to believe in for so many years heard his prayers, the door blasted open and national guard soldiers started filling the room. Within seconds the goons that were about to execute him were occupied, giving him a chance to get away.

He dipped back behind the back row of chairs above the podium and waited for the chaos to die down. After what seemed like an eternity (but was actually more like four minutes or so), it all finally stopped.

The president let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding as he stood up. He looked around at the soldiers inspecting the bodies of the fallen attackers. He was trying to think of something to say. There had to be something that could fix all of this. He had just admitted on national television that he had rigged the election. It wasn't something that there was a high chance of recovery from. He had already cheated death twice that day though, so he figured that anything was possible.

He cleared his throat, getting the attention of the soldiers, and walked back towards the podium. He adjusted his bloodied suit and tie and pushed his hair into the proper shape. This was his moment, this is what he would be remembered for. He couldn't blow this. It was all on the line.

"My fellow Americans" He started. A little old fashioned but tried-and-true nonetheless.

"The things that I previously said were under duress and not accurate at all. My party took control because of the horrible actions that the liberal scumbags were taking to tear our great nation apart, not because of any election fraud. I'm here to work for you, to fight for you. And I'm telling you now that we are in for a fight like we've never seen before. The enemy is at our doorsteps, and we have to…"

He stopped, hearing something beeping. He looked down at one of the fallen thugs and heard the beep again.

"Someone check that body!" he shouted at no one in particular.

Two of the soldiers rushed up to him and opened the dead man's vest, revealing a bomb vest with a ticking clock. The time was down to just five seconds when the president finally saw it.

"Holy fuck!" The president said. Not the best set of final words for someone in his position, but still appropriate, given the situation.

The president had just enough time to duck behind the podium and cry out for a god he never believed in to save him before the bomb went off, taking most the building along with it.

The total death toll of the day was 843, including most of the high-ranking members of the American government. It kicked off a brutal, five-year civil war that would lead to millions of deaths and the destruction of the entire country. The United States would officially cease to exist a mere eight years later, just a few decades shy of its 300-year anniversary. The remnants were absorbed into the NEC, which would soon after be re-named from The Northern European Consulate to The United Earth Federation after the inclusion of England and the remnants of the U.S. and China.

In the end, J. Henry Richards got exactly what he wanted. He would be remembered for a thousand years as the man who almost single-handedly destroyed the United States, and was held, along with his compatriots, responsible for the deaths of millions. He was a dark footnote in the annals of human history, but at least he was remembered. If anything, his cowardice and conniving schemes ended up doing precisely the opposite of what he had planned and became the final piece of uniting the world under one government. At least, if nothing else, he had that.