Chapter 40 Leaders

Chapter 40 Leaders

While hundreds of thousands of people lay inside their game capsules, the events of the deadly game were broadcasted on dozens of TV channels worldwide, providing a chilling glimpse into the fate of those who had participated.

The entire world seemed to be watching, their eyes glued to the screens as the death toll rapidly climbed to half a million lives within the first ten minutes of the game. The sheer scale of destruction and loss of life sent shockwaves through society, causing pandemonium to break out.

The most horrifying sight was the towering tsunami that emerged on the horizon, swallowing everything in its path. Viewers around the globe were paralyzed with fear as they witnessed the true horror of the apocalypse unfold.

As the game progressed, extreme weather conditions turned the playground into frozen graveyards, claiming more lives with each passing minute. The number of survivors dwindled rapidly, and society collectively held its breath, watching in disbelief.

Eight hours of nightmare finally came to an end, but the aftermath was haunting. The broadcast shifted to show Anna, the woman with dark hair and the representative of the Aliens, congratulating the survivors and offering condolences to the deceased. However, her emotionless speech only served to fuel the anger and frustration of the masses.

After the Aliens delivered their speech devoid of any emotions, what appeared on the screen changed once more. The nation's leaders took over the stage to suppress the unrest within their citizens with their articulated speech.

For the United States, a man with neatly styled white hair was seen sitting behind a brown table with the US national flag in the background. He was none other than the President of the United States, Thomas Whitemore.

"There are no other words that could describe our situation but gratitude for their bravery and sacrifice," he said as he tried his best to not let his chin fall.

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Within a specific room at the New York Apocalypse Game Center, dozens of uniformed personnel sat in front of multiple computer screens, their eyes dry from hours of intense focus. They had been meticulously analyzing each visual frame and the data provided by the Alien for the past eight hours. When the game finally ended, one of the staff quickly contacted the man in charge.

"Colonel Weeber, it's time."

"Alright, connect us to the White House."

The large screen that had been displaying the game now switched to show a conference room with a few high-ranking officials, including the Commander In Chief at the end of the table.

Soon enough, the screen split into three as two more visuals connected.

One showed the apocalypse training center in Los Angeles, led by Major Kingsley, and the other displayed the center in Houston, overseen by Colonel Maxwell.

"Mister President," was the first word spoken, and the President let out a long, weary sigh before addressing them with little energy left in his voice.

"Gentlemen, just give me the number."

Each leader of the training centers nodded, instructing their subordinates to transfer the data they had gathered. Moments later, the number of survivors from the three cities in America appeared on the screen.

New York: 4,833

Los Angeles: 3,245

Houston: 3,536

Those present in the conference had somewhat expected these numbers, considering it was the first game where the majority of players consisted of civilians. However, despite their preparation, the impact on their minds was still severe.

"...Almost 20,000 in 8 hours."

Trying to uplift the mood, a man without a military uniform who sat at the table with the President spoke up.

"Actually, the number of survivors is higher than expected, Mr. President, especially in New York."

"Yes, I can see that, Professor Levinson."

The professor was in charge of studying the Aliens, and his statement was accurate. Yet, the weight of each number representing a human life weighed heavily on everyone's mind.

President Whitemore then turned his questioning gaze to Colonel Weeber, asking about the high number of survivors in his city.

The Colonel's voice wavered as he answered, "I... I added some modules about surviving extreme cold in the last few days of training before the game, Mr. President."

"That's fortunate, Colonel. But why did you do that? Is there any particular reason?"

Avoiding eye contact, the Colonel replied, "It's... just a hunch, Mister President."

The President, perhaps noticing the uneasiness in the Colonel's voice, or attempting to uplift the mood, responded with a dry laugh. "We certainly could use more of that hunch, Colonel."

Understanding that they couldn't delve further into the matter of New York City, the President moved on to discuss the condition of the platoon – the American soldiers placed among the civilians in the game – media coverage, and public security before concluding the meeting.

"Thank you, gentlemen... and may God bless us all."

As the screen turned off, Colonel Weeber rallied his battalion of soldiers, comprising 1,000 men from the training center, and set off for Central Park in downtown New York City.

Outside the park gates, tens of thousands of people were screaming in anger towards the Aliens and the government's handling of the situation. Signs of a riot were evident in the crowd, exacerbated by negative emotions from the players' families who sought information about their missing kin. Chaos seemed inevitable.

The Colonel's 300 troops joined the thousands already present to maintain order. With the help of his men, Colonel Weeber walked through the crowd and stood on a platform, making his figure visible.

"I understand your pain, as I was one of you last year," the Colonel began, sharing the story of how his own son had fallen in last year's Apocalypse Game. Many in the crowd turned silent, empathizing with his grief.

"Please calm down, as what you are doing will only make it harder for all of us."

After delivering a short but powerful speech, he instructed the family members to head to the Apocalypse Center for more information and support.

His vacant eyes witnessed the tearful faces and breaking voices of the people inquiring about their family members.

Returning to his car, the Colonel's thoughts returned to the stranger who had given him the USB filled with information. Regret washed over him as he realized that if he had put more faith in the stranger's words, he might have saved even more lives. At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder who that person really was.

Taking a steeled breath, he made a phone call to one of his staff.

"Collect all the data of veterans who volunteered for this year's game."