“I cannot believe he wanted to do this outside,” the Secretary of State muttered to Ethan’s right, within the girl’s earshot.
The Secretary of Defense stood beside him, wearing a navy uniform covered in medals. She smiled, flipping back long, dark, mahogany-colored hair.
“It plays well for the press,” she said. “Especially with him injured.”
“Do we know yet, who is responsible?”
Her well-formed lips curled a little. “The same fringe group Caine was working with, we think. Wellington’s already declared war. Of course, it won’t be official until tonight.”
The Secretary of Defense’s eyes flashed a pale yellow as she glanced over the crowd, pausing to wink at the little girl before she smiled at Ethan.
“Caine did us a favor,” she added, giving the other man a disparaging look. “If nothing else, it is clear now, what we must do to survive.”
“Really?” The Secretary of State said. “...And just what is that, Jarvesch?”
“Exterminate the enemy,” she said. “Before they are strong enough to do it to us.”
Beyond them, Ethan Wellington continued to speak into the small but powerful microphone, using the words that would make him the next President of the United States.
“...will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office in which I am about to enter,” he said forcefully.
“So help me, God,” the Justice prompted, her hard eyes smiling faintly.
The crowd erupted behind him in emotional cheering. The feed cameras ran, capturing faces and waving hands, tears wiped from the eyes of watching humans, banners waving back and forth as Ethan gazed out over the Washington Monument.
In the distance, tanks could be seen parked at either end of the mall.
Jets flashed in the sunlight overhead.
He had made it, in spite of everything.
He had reached for it, and he had finally made it.
Ethan smiled, and the cheering grew louder still, more emotional.
“...So help me, God,” he said.