The eye of the lion

Robert J. Douglas was a strong man.

That is to say, of course, in the physical sense, given that among the most famous memories people had of him were those of the soccer player of his youth, at the University of North Carolina. And also, of course, memories of his time as a Hollywood actor, rough and charismatic.

It was also the strength of his overpowering personality, his appeal to the masses, and above all, the strength of his conviction to defend the “American Dream” at all costs.

It was those attributes and his impressive political career as previous senator and governor of his home state that had gotten him there, to the position he now found himself, as leader of the free world, on the presidential seat of the United States of America.

Douglas sighed and looked out of the window of his oval office for a moment, and saw the demonstrators, chanting slogans behind the barricade formed by the police. Even at that distance he could read the phrases on their signs:

“Stop the RED phantom” “Communism must stay DEAD” “It’s up to US”.

A voice jolted him out of his reflections.

“Would you like us to send them away, Mr. President?” asked a black man dressed in military uniform, with numerous medals on his chest.

The president looked at him for a second and shook his head.

“We have more important things to worry about, General, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” the General nodded. Another man appeared at the soldier’s side, dressed in an elegant dark grey suit, with a worried expression on his white face which was wrinkled and crowned with white hair. He looked at the President from behind his fine-framed glasses and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Things had gotten worse in the last few days and events were happening that had been thought to pertain to extinct possibilities from a long-buried past.

Russia had realigned its former republics into a new

confederation allied to the Russian President, and with China’s support they were mobilizing a large military force towards the West, towards the NATO bases. Satellite photos, inexplicably, had already leaked through to the media. The world was watching in indignation and fear.

“Sir, we have to make a decision...” murmured the man in the suit.

“I know...” replied Douglas, rising to his feet. He took a few steps and for a moment looked at a photo of his family next to him, hanging on the wall. Next to it, a marble representation of the famous photo of the rangers raising the flag of Iwo-Jima, attracted his gaze for a second. It was a difficult moment for the man. A moment which required the force of his decision.

He turned and fixed his gaze on the two men. His face showed an expression of certainty.

“General. Put us on DEFCON two*,” ordered Douglas.

“And may God be with us.”

* Second strategic level of defense. The second highest level of military alert.