Rough Cut: A hot mess of a president

This is an e-book I'm working on. It's a sequel of sorts to my first e-book, "Shock Effect" (available at fine mobile devices here and here). This unedited, first-draft selection is from a collection of short stories that took place around the e-book's main story and will serve as a bridge to the next book in the series. They're designed to be like the after-credit scenes in the "Avengers" movies, only without the possibility of Samuel L. Jackson showing up. Hope you like it, and let me know what you think either here or on Twitter. Thanks!

 

“… about a minute from live, sir. Did you  … um, sir?”

President Jackson Cody didn’t acknowledge the nameless staffer. He usually ignored the staffers, but this time, it was largely unintentional. Cody couldn’t take his eyes off his desk. He had been staring at it for several minutes. It was all he could do to keep from screaming, which wouldn’t be the best way to start his latest live, televised address.

No president, no leader, had ever been through an alien attack, but Cody knew he handled it well. He had the military in the right spots, and he made the tough but correct call to force the invaders to the central United States.

His military advisors were perfect in their assessments. His chief of staff, Grant Chamblers, kept him appraised of how the damage was going – it was well within estimates – and stayed in touch with all the congressmen of the states directly affected by the attacks.

It would go down as the greatest military strategy of all time. It was perfect. Even the countries that hated the United States praised the nation. Cody’s name always would be attached to it.

And it was all crap, because every key advisor, including Chamblers, was an alien clone.

“Sir!” another staffer yelled.

Cody snapped his head up and glared at the staffer. Most of the time, Cody – with his red, well-trimmed beard and slightly droopy brown eyes – looked like a warm, friendly neighbor. It was a huge part of his appeal, according to every poll taken during the election, and keyed a stunning victory for the former governor of Arizona. However, his intimate staffers knew The Glare — the brown eyes seemed to go black and the beard hairs stood on end. Wars almost have been started during The Glare.

The latest edition of The Glare was the darkest of them all. It was the fierce look of a man who not only wasn’t getting what he wanted, but also the scared look of a man who didn’t know how to fix the problem. He was 40 seconds from going live on TV.

A soothing voice came from behind the cameras and hot lights.

“Jackie,” said Emma Ruth Cody, former lieutenant governor of Arizona and current first lady of the United States. “Bring it together, hon.”

President Cody slowly looked toward in the direction of his wife’s voice. The Glare softened slightly, just enough for him to focus.

He turned toward the staffer who first spoke to him – that he remembered, anyway.

“OK, I’m sorry, what?” he said.

The staffer cleared his throat. Thirty seconds to live.

“Did you, um, want to add the change in plans for the vice president? At least one network is reporting that the VP is leaving Mexico but not returning to the states.”

President Cody paused, then nodded.

“Yeah, I suppose people will need to know why Lucas is flying to Europe. Good call.”

The staffer smiled and exhaled at the same time.

“Put that in early, right after the update on migrations to Mexico and Canada. That’d be a good spot for it.”

The staffer nodded, turned on his voice-to-type earpiece and spoke. The words instantly were added to the speech on the teleprompter. Fifteen seconds to live.

President Cody bowed his head to pray, just as he did before every national address. At least, that’s what he led everyone to believe. He actually was debating on when the public would come charging to his front door and demand his ouster for having a clone as his long-time confidant and advisor. In his 35-plus years as a politician, Cody saw countless colleagues done in by connections to things far less worse. Money trails can disappear, mistresses can be eliminated, but nothing could hide having an alien in the White House. To millions, it wouldn’t matter that Chamblers’ ideas and advice guided the country through the greatest crisis in history. To them, any alien is a bad alien.

“And any president that relies on aliens for help is a bad president,” Cody thought.

He had five seconds to get his thoughts together. Cody made a mental note to give a Congressional Medal of Honor to the inventor of the teleprompter.

Cody inhaled and exhaled deeply but quietly, then looked straight ahead. The red light went on above the main camera, and the president launched into Cowboy Cody mode.

“Good evening, my fellow Americans. Tonight, I have the honor of announcing to y’all …”