ocalypse (Book 10): Drawl (Duncan's Story) by Shawn Chesser

had said when Duncan inquired as to how a man pulling in a measly five
hundred dollars a week—before taxes—could afford such a monstrous thing. And
though it likely cost his friend a week’s worth of wages earned the easy way, sitting
on his butt and breathing automotive fumes, its glossy screen was host to a
fine sheen of dust. Whether that spoke to its lack of importance to Charlie, or
the man’s disdain of physical labor, Duncan hadn’t a clue. Besides, with all of
his worldly possessions languishing in a storage locker on Holgate and one bad
bet away from being auctioned off to pay the rent, who was he to judge?
    Duncan’s resolve to keep his eyes open and watch the ongoing
coverage some of the talking heads were calling “Riot in the Square” was taking
a hit after the first beer. Now, halfway through the third, he was getting his
second wind.
    For the third time in ten minutes the nicely coiffed female
newscaster was back on the television droning on about the flare-up of violence
and pointing out how area hospitals were beginning to receive the injured. And
each time she handed off the airtime to other affiliates around the country,
she made sure she recapped the numbers of dead and injured already removed from
the Square, the latter, for now, far outnumbering the former.
    Broadcast on a screen behind the anchor, at the edge of a
full city block paved in red bricks and filled with jostling bodies, was a
picket of columns reminiscent of the once mighty Acropolis. Maybe the architect
had thrown the intricate spires in as a way to thumb his or her nose at the
establishment and city planners who had commissioned the design. Whatever the
case, Duncan mused, he was struck with an uneasy feeling that just making the
connection, however subliminally, was a subtle harbinger of things to come.
Hell, throughout history many powerful societies rose and fell, Rome, principle
among them. And much like the United States, which currently manned garrisons
around the world and was embroiled in two wars in the Middle East, the Romans
had also spread themselves very thin towards the end of their reign. He also
noticed that over the last three decades, much like the hubris of those lording
over Rome had grown concurrent to the Empire’s sphere of influence, so, too,
had the attitude of invincibility shared by the career politicians entrenched
in the highest levels of government. Gone were the days of “for the people by
the people.” And as sad as it was for him to admit, the country he once knew
and still loved was close to the point of no return.
    Rome was burning, literally, judging by the images on the
television.
    Though not as serious about prepping as his brother, Duncan shared
the same gut feeling that be it a rogue nation getting a nuke or device capable
of producing a crippling electromagnetic pulse into the country, one of these
days people were going to wake up to one hell of a big surprise.
    Almost capsized by the financial crisis of 2008, the country
was slowly clawing its way back. However, the prosperity and change promised by
the new administration was coming much slower for the rank and file. Millions
were out of work and, like a slow-moving train wreck, victims of the housing
bubble were suddenly finding themselves in foreclosure and in danger of being
homeless.
    It was already one hell of a recession they were in and Duncan
was finding it harder than ever to stay above water both financially and
emotionally. Then along comes a spate of deadly terrorist attacks immediately followed
by a riot in his home town.
    Jogging Duncan’s morbid train of thought, a wide-angle
aerial shot of downtown Portland replaced the anchor who was just finishing her
latest body count. The incoming video feed was jittery, the people on the
ground ant-like until the person panning the camera found something on the
ground worthy of scrutiny and tightened in on it. And every time it did the
plasma screen would be filled with the