Roosevelt sat within his bunker complex. He had not seen the light of day since the war began to take a turn for the worse.
He had been down here the entire time. Eating, sleeping, and undergoing medical treatment for his condition. All while doing his best to keep things together.
To keep America together…
Even after taking a strategic withdrawal to the Northeastern states, and building what one might consider a fortress, Roosevelt found the last vestiges of control slipping from his fingers with each passing day.
Like sand in a sieve, it was inevitable that sooner or later every grain would spill over. Maps were drawn across the table, as he sat in his wheelchair gazing upon the ever-shifting borders of what had been the United States.
Alaska had been taken over by the Russians; the South had once more declared itself independent and sovereign. The Midwest had broken up from a single coalition into two. And west of the Rockies anarchy prevailed.
