Disclaimer: I own nothing but my typos.
Summary: What would have happened if that glass really had been bulletproof?
The idea came to me after watching and this thought crossed my mind: "This is a secret military instillation and they don't even have bulletproof glass between them and the aliens?"
"What do you want us to do?"
"Die." The alien voice hissed.
The oppressive ringing noise, similar to that of a rattlesnake, echoed through the room, partially covered up by the sound of shoes hitting the floor and the pained gasps of Thomas Whitmore, United States President.
Numerous shouts of "Mr. President" could be heard from the few members of the Secret Service in the room, and others.
The President's hand was pressed to his forehead, creased in obvious pain.
Thinking quickly General Will Grey turned and addressed the Major. "Is that glass bulletproof?" He asked referring to the pain of glass separating the observation room from the operating room.
"Yes Sir." The Major responded grimly. A pained shout broke the silence between this and his next statement. "Follow me Sir." He said as he exited the room heading for the main door to the operating room.
General Grey followed quickly, flanked by two men from Secret Service. The stood outside the door, guns drawn as the Major punched in all but the last digit of his access code.
He glanced up and locked eyes with the General. Another sharp shout followed by a choked gasp escaped from the other room. General Grey nodded and the Major hit the last number.
Smoke instantly billowed out of the room towards them, blinding them momentarily, but there was no time that could be lost. They started shooting at what they hoped was the alien.
A strange shrieking noise told them they had hit their mark. Walking inside, gun still drawn and up the Major headed over to where the alien lay on the ground. He shot it in the head, three times.
Convince it was dead they rushed back to the other room. "Get a medic in here!" The Secret Service Agent who had not gone after the alien called out. He was kneeling on the ground.
At the base of his knees lay the President's head, his eyes closed, skin clammy and pale in appearance. His breathing was shallow and uneven. He was unconscious.
A few moments later three medics rushed into the room two with a stretcher being carried between them.
Not too kindly they moved those around the President away and slipped on an oxygen mask before placing him on the stretcher. They lifted it up and headed out of the room followed by everyone else.
A few hours later the medical wing of Area 51 was extremely busy. A Marine had returned to El Toro and found survivors of the attack, many of whom were injured, one of those being the First Lady.
The doctor's had done everything they could but, she was dying, bleeding internally. At that moment she was resting as comfortably as possible in a room, alone.
A few minutes later Connie came in carrying Patricia into her mother, setting her down at the doorway to talk to the doctor.
The little girl man up to the side of the bed enthusiastically. "Mommy!" She exclaimed. A nurse standing next to the bed held up onto it so she could lie next to her mother.
"She doesn't look so good." Connie pointed out.
"She's bleeding internally, and we can't stop it." The doctor explained softly.
"She's going to die?" Connie asked bluntly.
The doctor nodded.
Connie sighed and walked into the room. One look on the First Lady's face and Connie knew, that she knew she was dying. The way she clung to her daughter as a lifeline was a tell as well. "Just keep getting bigger and bigger." She heard being whispered from mother to daughter.
"What city will be reached first?" Secretary of Defensive, Mister Nimzicki asked.
"Houston. Most major cities have been deserted, civilian casualties should be minimal." General Grey informed him, even though he didn't seem to be listening very intently.
A voice came across the room to them. "We're locked on Sir, do you wish to deploy?"
"Deploy." Mister Nimzicki said without hesitation.
The blast of the nuke hitting something knocked the sensors out of whack and the ground surveillance lost visual. The call for conformation kept going out. Mister Nimzicki on the other hand was confident they'd gotten them and was already celebrating somewhat.
"Has the target been destroyed?" A voice said again.
A new image appeared on screen. The alien ship was still there. "Negative, target remains. I repeat, target remains."
"Call the other planes back." General Grey ordered.
"We shouldn't just give up on this!" Mister Nimzicki insisted. "The others might have more luck."
"No, if that nuke didn't get through those shields, nothing will."
"Where's Tom?" The First Lady asked Connie.
Connie pursed her lips together and contemplated her answer. Instead she chose to address Patricia. "Hey, why don't you got sit outside for a lit bit and let your mommy get some rest?"
"Okay," she said softly, sliding of the bed, her hand being taken by one of the nurses.
The First Lady's eyes turned to stare at Connie, waiting for an answer.
"A pilot managed to chase down one of the alien fighters a ways from here. The alien was alive, so the brought it here. A team of scientists tried to break it out of its armor, but it awoke before they follow could remove it. Those four were killed.
"Then from the observation room, Tom tried to talk to the alien. It was communicating telepathically through on of the scientists. In short, they want nothing to do with us, except they want us dead. It tried to kill him, by – by – I have no idea what it did, but it got inside his head and did something. He's been unconscious for the last few hours, down the hall."
"Take me down there." The First Lady said and she tried to sit up.
"Hey, you shouldn't be going anywhere" Connie said, placing a hand on her shoulder, laying her back down.
"I'm going to die Connie, does it make a difference where I do it?"
Connie let out a sigh. She walked out of the room to the doctor's amassed on the other side. "Do you have a wheelchair?"
"Yeah, but- she shouldn't be-"
"Just get it." Connie ordered.
A few minutes later the First Lady was sitting next to her husband in a room down the hall. She was sitting in a wheelchair, her head propped up on one arm on the bed, the other holding her husband's hand, stroking the back of it gently.
She could feel her strength starting to fail her as she sat there staring. It took her a few moments to realize that after a while there were a se of eyes staring back at her. "Tom?" A grin broke out on her face.
"How?" He asked turning over onto his side to fully face her.
She just shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She said, tears running down her face.
Even without truly being told he understood and pulled his wife into an embrace that lasted long after she had breathed her final breath.
And the rest follows with the movie. I hoped you enjoyed.