over. A sea of survivors pushes them to the gates of the White
House.
Military personnel keep the crowd
off of the presidential grounds. Soldiers looking like mercenaries man the
front gates with local cops. The broad lawns surrounding the Washington Monument and White House are submerged in water. The tip of the Washington Monument topples.
“The great dildo in the sky lost
its head,” Kyle says.
Fred feels disgust for his son’s
lack of respect. The crowd’s movement stops near the gates of the White House.
The black cast iron fence leading to the main drive sits at an odd angle.
Majority of the lamps adorning the gate are missing. Even at a distance the
damage to the White House looks severe. Its regal veranda sits at an angle with
several of the timeless columns missing.
“Never thought I’d see the
day…”Fred muses and takes out a cigarette. He never thought much of government
but does have a patriot’s heart.
The crowd mumbles the president is
dead. A few ask the soldiers and police officers for information. Others
outright demand it. Kyle grips the strap of the backpack tightly. A limousine
with presidential flags idles near the front entrance of the White House and on
the front the lawn are several helicopters. Staff workers and officials rush
from a side entrance.
Fred needs to know if the leader
of the free world is still at the helm. The longer the soldiers remain silent
the more restless the crowd becomes.
Amongst those rushing from the
White House are the president’s wife and daughter. The first lady’s head is
bowed. She’s flanked by two smartly dressed men. The scene is repeated with the
president’s daughter. Behind them four soldiers carry a black body bag. As the
body bag passes, both soldiers and officials stand sharply and salute. The
president’s family disappears into a helicopter and the crowd goes crazy.
A senator runs out of the White
House and enters the idling limousine. The luxurious car pauses as the front
gate starts to open. Hundreds rush to the opening gates but are stopped when
another deep tremor shakes the ground. Erupting asphalt lifts the front of the
limousine into the air. The rear tires spin without gripping the road.
Soldiers push back the mob
surrounding the limo. The senator is pulled from the sun roof and the car
abandoned.
An amplified voice blares through
the cacophony, “Repent before it’s too late. The president is dead! God is
coming to reclaim what is rightfully his!”
Fred sees a man in ragged clothes
shouting into the bullhorn. A chunk of concrete sails through the air and hits
the doomsayer on the temple. The bullhorn doesn’t reach the street before
someone else snatches it.
“DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD!”
The mob turns on the announcer
like a pack of wild dogs. The speaker disappears in a storm of punches and
kicks.
A young woman with dirty blond
dreadlocks shouts into the bullhorn, “Stop this insanity! We need order!”
A military man booms, “Cease and
disperse! This is an executive order. Proceed to the nearest evacuation
center and await further information. I repeat. Cease and disperse.”
“Where is the vice president?” the
woman with the bullhorn shrills.
The crowd is deafening as the
soldier answers, “Cease and disperse immediately. You must evacuate the
city.”
“No,” the woman shouts. “We have
rights and demand information!”
“Marshall Law has been declared.
Cease and disperse or we will open fire.”
“You’re supposed to help us!” the
woman yells.
Rubber bullets rain into the
crowd. A rubber bullet smacks into Fred’s left shoulder. His breath is knocked
out as searing hot pain shoots down his arm.
“Jesus, please stop this madness,”
Fred prays.
The bullhorn lands at his feet.
Fred picks it up and says the only
thing coming to mind, “Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wide man glory in his
wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man
glory in his
House.
Military personnel keep the crowd
off of the presidential grounds. Soldiers looking like mercenaries man the
front gates with local cops. The broad lawns surrounding the Washington Monument and White House are submerged in water. The tip of the Washington Monument topples.
“The great dildo in the sky lost
its head,” Kyle says.
Fred feels disgust for his son’s
lack of respect. The crowd’s movement stops near the gates of the White House.
The black cast iron fence leading to the main drive sits at an odd angle.
Majority of the lamps adorning the gate are missing. Even at a distance the
damage to the White House looks severe. Its regal veranda sits at an angle with
several of the timeless columns missing.
“Never thought I’d see the
day…”Fred muses and takes out a cigarette. He never thought much of government
but does have a patriot’s heart.
The crowd mumbles the president is
dead. A few ask the soldiers and police officers for information. Others
outright demand it. Kyle grips the strap of the backpack tightly. A limousine
with presidential flags idles near the front entrance of the White House and on
the front the lawn are several helicopters. Staff workers and officials rush
from a side entrance.
Fred needs to know if the leader
of the free world is still at the helm. The longer the soldiers remain silent
the more restless the crowd becomes.
Amongst those rushing from the
White House are the president’s wife and daughter. The first lady’s head is
bowed. She’s flanked by two smartly dressed men. The scene is repeated with the
president’s daughter. Behind them four soldiers carry a black body bag. As the
body bag passes, both soldiers and officials stand sharply and salute. The
president’s family disappears into a helicopter and the crowd goes crazy.
A senator runs out of the White
House and enters the idling limousine. The luxurious car pauses as the front
gate starts to open. Hundreds rush to the opening gates but are stopped when
another deep tremor shakes the ground. Erupting asphalt lifts the front of the
limousine into the air. The rear tires spin without gripping the road.
Soldiers push back the mob
surrounding the limo. The senator is pulled from the sun roof and the car
abandoned.
An amplified voice blares through
the cacophony, “Repent before it’s too late. The president is dead! God is
coming to reclaim what is rightfully his!”
Fred sees a man in ragged clothes
shouting into the bullhorn. A chunk of concrete sails through the air and hits
the doomsayer on the temple. The bullhorn doesn’t reach the street before
someone else snatches it.
“DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD!”
The mob turns on the announcer
like a pack of wild dogs. The speaker disappears in a storm of punches and
kicks.
A young woman with dirty blond
dreadlocks shouts into the bullhorn, “Stop this insanity! We need order!”
A military man booms, “Cease and
disperse! This is an executive order. Proceed to the nearest evacuation
center and await further information. I repeat. Cease and disperse.”
“Where is the vice president?” the
woman with the bullhorn shrills.
The crowd is deafening as the
soldier answers, “Cease and disperse immediately. You must evacuate the
city.”
“No,” the woman shouts. “We have
rights and demand information!”
“Marshall Law has been declared.
Cease and disperse or we will open fire.”
“You’re supposed to help us!” the
woman yells.
Rubber bullets rain into the
crowd. A rubber bullet smacks into Fred’s left shoulder. His breath is knocked
out as searing hot pain shoots down his arm.
“Jesus, please stop this madness,”
Fred prays.
The bullhorn lands at his feet.
Fred picks it up and says the only
thing coming to mind, “Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wide man glory in his
wisdom, neither let the mighty man glory in his might, let not the rich man
glory in his
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