by JD Dutra
“As you know, we were supposed to have the Presidential elections on November 3rd, about a week or so away. That will not be taking place next week due to obvious reasons, but you have my word, I’m not a dictator and I will be the acting President of the United States until we can hold elections again. When that would be, I just don’t know, but hopefully just as soon as order is restored and most of our countrymen have had a decent burial. It could be a month or it could be a year or more. The faster you and everyone else help rebuild, the faster we can have Presidential elections, so please do your part and head over to the nearest FEMA camp as soon as possible.
“The last item I’d like to talk to you about is regarding our electrical energy capacities. Our power grid is so enormous, it can’t operate for long without the knowledgeable technicians that worked on it throughout the country. We are without power in certain parts of the country already and that trend will only grow, so do what you can now to arrive safely and quickly at the nearest FEMA camp. Please bring any supplies you may have, our military is in charge of gathering and distributing what’s available equally among all Americans who were affected by this. So please do not hesitate to turn in your surplus to them. Remember that we live in a Democracy, and that we are all equal and deserving of what’s available out there. Our own military is in charge of making sure that happens, so your peaceful cooperation is appreciated.
“My dear Americans, we got through a Civil war, two World Wars, Vietnam and we’ve been winning our fight for the last 20 years in the Middle East. Inside our nation we’ve legalized gay marriage, tripled the dollar amount destined to the needy families of America, and issued enough currency to take control of dozens of multi-billion dollar corporations that were mismanaged, but were vital to our lives as Americans. We came out on top. The historians of the future will look back upon this event and say that the Americans of this day were as tough and resilient as all the Americans of past generations. Believe in yourselves and in our heritage, let hope overcome fear and lead us all unto triumph. Thank you.”
Barry removed his headset and leaned back on his chair, bringing the rim of his coffee cup to his lips.
“Outstanding, Mr. President, that was beautiful! You were very inspiring,” said Michael, looking like he truly meant it.
It might be because it was the first honest speech I’ve ever given.
“Thank you, Michael. I hope our people will stick together during this most terrible crisis.”
“Me too, Sir.”
“I’m going to go see my family, thanks for doing this, I appreciate it,” said Barry while getting up and giving Michael a gentle squeeze on his shoulder.
“It’s an honor, Sir.”
Once Barry had walked out of the Oval Office and the door had closed behind him, Michael brought his watch to his lips and spoke softly into it, before he continued his work.
Barry walked quickly towards his bedroom on the southwest corner of the second floor of the White House. He couldn’t wait to meet his family and put his plan into motion, but when he got near his bedroom door, the room was silent as if no one were inside. He opened the door slowly and looked in, wondering where his family was.
Two large windows bathed the room in natural sunlight, the luxurious and modern bedroom with designer furniture and contemporary color schemes was exactly as he had left it earlier in the morning. Barry realized no one had been in his room.
I wonder why it’s taking them so long to get here.
He was about to shut his bedroom door and head over to the helipad when one of the disguised doors in his bedroom, the one which led to a small room once used by Abraham Lincoln as his bedchamber, slowly swung open. The room was pitch black. Barry felt the nerves in the back of his spine tingle with fear. He waited a few seconds, watching the fake door, no one came out of it, although deep in his gut he did feel someone was present.
“Who’s there?”
Seconds of silence went by.
“Girls? Robyn? There is no time to play hide and seek, we need to get going,” Barry said, hoping the anxiety he felt building up in his gut was just an overreaction. More time went by with no response from anyone. He pulled out his revolver, feeling the weight of it in his hand gave him courage.
It’s probably nothing but I have to overcome this fear. If I can’t check out an old room that’s probably empty on my own, how can I lead this country against all its enemies?
He had to do this himself. His Secret Service men had failed him before and they couldn’t be trusted. To the public, they were rough men who were willing to do violence to protect the President, but now Barry knew they were there to make sure he walked in line as well.
He stepped into his bedroom as quietly as he could, and shut the door behind him. No one peaked from the hidden door, and no sound came from it. Barry took a deep breath and began walking towards it, his gun leading the way in front of him. He couldn’t feel the usual perfume of lilies and lavender of his wife, instead the air smelled faintly of incense and wood fires. The history of Lincoln made him think of the secret tunnels that lead in and out of the White House, they were supposed to be sealed but could there be others he didn’t know about?
He got closer to the door, his mind telling his heart the room was empty, but a strong feeling in his gut told him it wasn’t. The room behind the hidden door was so dark, Barry couldn’t see any of the furniture in what was supposed to be his and his wife’s study room. They used to spend some of their evenings together in the beginning of his Presidency, enjoying each other’s company while reading or writing.
Barry turned on the light, and immediately his heart began fluttering. Lamar was sitting on a chair behind his wife’s desk, and another man, tall, broad shouldered and powerfully built, wearing a red Sikh turban and dark suit leaned on the desk itself, their eyes were fixed on Barry’s own, as if they were expecting this scene to play out exactly as it did.
The facial features of the turban wearing man were so unusual and rare, Barry couldn’t help wondering what country the he was from. It was a pale face that belonged in another era, ancient, a striking countenance that reminded Barry of the faces that were sculpted in stone, on display at a museum. He had large, dark, piercing eyes. His lips were thick, framed by high cheekbones on a muscular and long face. His skin tone was unusually light.
“Robyn! Robyn, where are you?” Barry screamed before turning around and running towards the door of his bedroom, his heart was almost coming out of his mouth, he was shaking uncontrollably. He pulled on the door handle, but it had been locked from the outside. He took a step back and aimed at the lock, then remembered he only had six shots. He looked over his shoulder, Lamar had already crossed the hidden door’s threshold, and the tall and imposing figure of the man with the red turban slowly walked into the room.
Barry pulled the door with all his strength, that still wasn’t enough. He shot the door lock twice, missed once, then tried again and still it wouldn’t open. The sunlight that once bathed the sanctuary of his bedroom through the large windows now cast two long shadows that grew ever closer to him.
Barry turned around and took aim.
You only have four more shots Barry. Make them count.
Chapter 45
White House, Washington D.C.
Monday, October 26th, 2020
8: 37 A.M.
Barry was trapped inside his bedroom, his back against the front door. He moved his revolver from one man to another, its chromed tip shaking uncontrollably.
“Stay back! I’ll kill you both!” Shouted Barry, praying any remaining men of his security team would burst through the door and subdue the two figures at the other end of his barrel.
“Lower your gun, Barry,” said Lamar, speaking calmly as he usually did. “No one will come to save you since you don’t need to be saved from anything.”
“Where is my family?” Demanded Barry, but neither of the men responded.
“Answer me!” Barry now screamed a
nd the crushing silence that followed with no answer or footsteps from the corridor behind the door made him realize he had lost control of the small amount of power he once had. The acceptance that he had always been a puppet and nothing else sank deep into his entire body. He could feel one of his panic attacks building up quickly inside him.
“Lower your gun, Barry. Put it down and face the Master.”
The President simply stared at the tall, muscular and frightening character, his dark eyes penetrated Barry’s own with hostility and focus, like a starving jackal waiting for its prey to make one simple mistake. Something stirred once again inside the President, that awful and overwhelming panic, the most basic and primitive impulse of raw fear, which told him he should get out of his bedroom immediately and away from the unnerving presence of this man he didn’t know anything about. Barry looked away, towards Lamar, his eyes begging for answers, wondering why his contact with the organization which put him in power would betray him like this.
“Put down your gun, and face the Master,” said Lamar in a low voice with just enough of an edge to let Barry know this was his last warning.
Barry felt anger build inside of him, when a deep and unsettling voice immediately grabbed his attention, it was stronger than the urge to look away.
“See me now!” The throaty voice sounded more animal than human.
“Who… what… who are you?” Asked Barry, forcing himself to look at the turbaned man Lamar called Master.
The tall, powerfully built man answered.
“You know exactly who I am. I am the one by who’s will you still breathe. I am the one everyone here serves, including you.”
The macabre figure spoke with an accent so strange that Barry couldn’t match it to any nationality of any person he had met around the world.
“Where are Robyn and my kids?” Barry demanded with more desperation than anger in his trembling voice.
“As your God and Master, Barry, your life is mine to take or give. As is your family’s.”
“I want to see them. Right now!”
“You may not. They are safe, in what I would consider, a better place. You will be too if you control yourself. I am a merciful God and I will grant you to be with your family if you beg forgiveness, for your defiance before me.”
Barry lowered the gun ever so slightly, as a bartering chip for the exchange of the answers he needed.
“What kind of God would bring complete destruction on his own people?
The sinister man nodded and said, “Ages pass, yet this question is asked every time. I’ll give you the answer I’ve given others in your position in times past. I am a ruthless god, with the ability to accept pain and death, and the willingness to inflict both. That is precisely what separates me and my kind, from you and yours, Barry.”
“I want to know why? Why did you do this? America was on top of the world, we controlled everyone who mattered anywhere in the world. Why destroy it all?”
“You marvel at but one of my creations. The dollar has served its purpose, in its birth it brought other countries and their leaders to their knees before me, in its death, it provided the perfect distraction for my wrath to cleanse the world of my undesirable children. The dollar and fiat currency system was of my design and if you marvel at such tools of my kingdom, the world to come would stun you with wonder.”
“You are the god of a world in ruin, there is nothing for you to rule over.”
“I am sure it appears to be so to you, but it is not as you speak. With most of my children who were unproductive have now gone to a better place, in time there will be plenty of work for the ones who still live. Everyone alive will serve a purpose, we’ll make advancements in technology and sciences in two or three years that would’ve taken us decades before. A lot of human labor and time was wasted keeping alive those who wouldn’t even labor for themselves, but it was necessary to create a mass of people big enough, so that in my control of them, I could stir the democracies of the world through my servants. That illusion of welfare, socialist society and even democracy is now gone.”
Barry let the pieces of information fall into place in his mind, the half-truths he was told in the past, how he and probably other world leaders were manipulated and blinded by their own greed, accepting promises and swearing oaths that, now he knew, were more than just formalities.
“People were born free, those who are still alive won’t give up democracy.”
The frightening man wearing the red turban crossed his hands behind his back and a faint smile formed on his masculine lips.
“Democracy, was a God that is no more. No longer will mankind bow and do the will of their government leaders under the illusion that it is the will of the majority. We’ve entered a new era, there will be a new social contract in place. We’ll be turning towards an ancient and proven method of ruling, the period of time when religion and state merge as one, has arrived on earth once again.”
“Most religious people already worship a god,” said Barry, who was shocked at the level of lunacy in the man’s words.
“My children will no longer need to pray to any unseen, dead gods. I’ll be right here walking among them, granting favors, accepting sacrifices, instituting a new religion. In this new era, my kind and I will rule openly, as it was thousands of years ago in Egypt, Eastern Europe, South America and other parts of the world.”
“I would have never believed any of this if you had told me… until this virus,” said Barry.
“You have had but a small glimpse of everything I’ve done and will do. You have disappointed me, Barry. I had plans for you ever since I allowed you to enter this path that led you to preside over the United States. In this new era, I wanted you to have the honor of being one of my first eunuchs in my New World Order.”
The word eunuch stunned Barry and he couldn’t disguise his look of horror and his belief that the man who was speaking to him was mentally deranged. The man who called himself the God of this World narrowed his eyes at Barry, as if he had been deeply insulted.
“Take me to see my family. I want no part in this - in any of this. I got into politics to help the poor people of my community, but I was blinded by my own greed and let things get this far. All I want is to be with my family and start over, please let me go to them right now.”
“I shall grant you that very wish, Barry. If you will but fall to your knees and beg for my forgiveness. That is all you need to do, and you’ll join your family. You have my word.”
Barry thought of the predicament he was in, if he pulled the trigger and killed them both, if indeed the mysterious man could be killed, there is no doubt their followers would end his life and his family’s.
I will do what I must, and I will live to fight another day. I can start over as long as I am with my family.
He slowly fell to one knee, than the other. He bent forward and placed both hands on the hardwood floor beneath him, his gun still in hand. He leaned back and sat on the heels of his feet, assuming the ceremonial position of adoration from the cult he was forced to enter, in order to become President. Barry wondered how far into their teachings he actually got. Without giving much thought to the words he knew were expected, he opened his mouth, turning his thoughts towards his wife and the love they once had for each other, and his children.
Barry began to speak, “Master, I —”
“Slide your gun forward Barry. Succumb to me, your God and Master, if you wish to be with your family and start a new kind of life.”
Barry felt the cold steel of his gun in his hands, he measured the comforting weight of it in between his fingers against the desire to be with his family. He slid the gun forward across the hardwood floor, sending it all the way to Lamar’s feet.
After a few seconds of silence, Barry cleared his voice and said, “Master, forgive me for my transgressions against you… I humbly beg of you.” The disappointment mixed with decorum in his voice.
“I do forgive you, Barry. Your desire
to join your family in my peace, is granted.”
There was silence in the room for a few moments. Barry kept his head low, wondering when he’d be able to have his wife and children in his arms again.
“You may rise now,” the low, accented voice filled the walls of the bedroom.
When Barry got on his feet and looked up, the man next to Lamar had removed his turban, his elongated skull was in full display. Flashbacks of a similar skull, crushing the side of his head weeks before invaded Barry’s mind, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the sense of foreboding. The back of the man’s skull went high in the air four or five inches more than normal, it was massive, bald and pale, decorated with golden Egyptian hieroglyphs and occultist markings that shined with the sunlight that poured through the windows behind him.
His dark eyes widened, glaring at Barry, his large hands slowly came to rest on his own muscular chest, fingertips touching in the shape of a triangle, palms facing outward.
“Vessel, his life is now yours to take. He may join his family in the peace of my kingdom, in the afterlife.”
Barry didn’t understand the meaning of his words at first, until he saw a large black dagger in Lamar’s right hand, it was ornately decorated and it look like it was meant to be used in some kind of ritual.
Lamar walked towards Barry, knife in hand, and the look on his face was that of a starving lion cornering a gazelle. The dagger’s black edge slashed in the air and Barry moved, dodging it, but Lamar was too quick and, too anxious to put an end to the President’s life. Barry moved from one side to another, trying to get out of the way while eyeing his gun that was still on the floor, a few feet from the man with the elongated skull, where Lamar once stood.
Lamar matched his steps, stabbing and slashing at Barry, and suddenly the ancient blade slid across Barry’s fingers, drawing blood. Another stab, Barry put his hands up, the adrenaline numbing the open gash, but Lamar was too quick and suddenly Barry felt the tip of the blade slash through his clothes and sting his stomach, burying itself half an inch into his muscles. Barry’s hands wrapped around Lamar’s fist, trying to push himself and the tip of the blade apart.
