Doomsday Apocalypse

by Bobby Akart

  “They do?” Angela asked with a smile.

  Kaycee was serious. She sat a little taller in the back seat of Tyler’s 1974 Bronco, a truck he’d driven since he turned sixteen when his father passed away. It was in pristine condition and painted orange and white. Most importantly, it was a constant reminder of the close relationship he’d had with his dad.

  Kaycee continued. “Yep. They’ve even got record breakers.”

  “What kind of record breakers, Peanut?” asked J.C. His eyes grew wider at the thought of the roller coasters breaking records mid-ride.

  “Well, the newest ride is called the Cyborg Cyber Spin. It’s seven stories high and it makes you feel like you’re floating in space.”

  J.C.’s tone turned apprehensive. “Do you sit in a chair? How do you hold on?”

  “You’re strapped in, J.C.,” replied Kaycee condescendingly. “They don’t let you float in the air. People can’t float or fly. Don’t you know anything.”

  “I know things!” J.C. shot back.

  Angela quickly intervened. “All right, you two. What else do they have, Peanut?”

  “The Dare Devil Dive will be pretty cool too. You go up fifteen stories through the air at sixty miles per hour like you’re skydiving. Um, we have to pay a little extra for that one.”

  Tyler laughed as he reached over for Angela’s hand. He whispered to her as he followed the parking lot attendant’s instructions, “Naturally, I have to pay extra to crap my pants.”

  Angela burst out laughing and kissed her husband on the cheek. The two had been in love since the day they met, and their affection for one another never waned.

  “Peanut, which one breaks the records?” asked J.C.

  “That, my little brother, would be Kingda Ka,” said Kaycee authoritatively. “Now, listen to this.”

  Kaycee paused for dramatic effect to make sure she had everyone’s attention. She lowered her voice and adopted a golf announcer’s hushed, serious tone. “Once we’re strapped in and ready, Kingda Ka throws into warp speed at one hundred twenty-eight miles per hour. In just three seconds, we’re shot up a four-hundred-fifty-six-foot track until we reach the top, where we’re suspended for a moment, and then, WHOOSH, we sail down the other side, screaming at the top of our lungs. Isn’t that awesome?”

  The family was quiet as they soaked in Kaycee’s words until Tyler started laughing. “Angela, I’m gonna need to bring an extra pair of pants inside.”

  Chapter 12

  Atlanta Hartsfield Airport

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Will Hightower nervously milled about the baggage-claim area in the South Terminal at Atlanta Hartsfield Airport. His kids were technically unaccompanied minors. Although underage, they certainly had the ability to travel without adult supervision. On the one prior occasion he had been allowed to visit with them alone, their mother, his ex-wife Karen, insisted upon Will paying for her round-trip ticket to escort them to and from Philadelphia. It was an unnecessary expense he could ill afford at the time, but it was worth it to visit with his children on his own terms. This New Year’s weekend visitation marked their first trip to Atlanta without his ex-wife’s interference.

  He caught a glimpse of himself in a full-length mirror affixed to a wall near the restrooms. He looked out of place in a security guard uniform. Will studied himself and frowned. He hadn’t worn the uniform to impress his kids. If anything, he preferred not to publicly wear the drab brown matching shirt and pants with the Mercedes-Benz logo emblazoned across the left chest and on both sleeves. He looked more like a mechanic than he did a security officer.

  There were other security personnel around him. Atlanta’s airport was one of the busiest in the world, but the security officers here consisted of local law enforcement, many of whom wore SWAT team gear or at least tactical body armor and protection. They also carried AR-15 rifles, a far cry from the boxy stun gun he had holstered in his utility belt.

  Watching the two SWAT officers casually walking along the baggage conveyer belts made him long for his days on the Philadelphia Police Department when he was part of the one-hundred-man special weapons and tactical squad. He’d started with Philly SWAT at Philadelphia’s East Division, initially handling high-risk warrants, hostage situations, barricaded shooters, and hazardous materials response.

  Over time, as the political climate in the country shifted, Philadelphia became front and center as societal unrest gripped the inner cities. His job duties began to shift from tactical response to crowd control. He was one of fifty officers assigned to cover the entire city of one and a half million people on a moment’s notice, twenty-four seven. Philly SWAT prided itself on its quick reaction time and enormous successes in maintaining the peace. Then one dark day descended upon the City of Brotherly Love that tarnished the reputation of Philly SWAT and cost Will Hightower his job, and his family.

  “Daddy!” The voice of his young daughter, Skylar, could be heard over the casual hustle and bustle of arriving passengers greeting their loved ones. Will pulled himself out of the nostalgic doldrums, which overcame him frequently, and turned to the sound of her voice.

  “Sky! Look at you. You’re blue, just the way I like it!”

  His daughter, wearing a light blue track suit, ran and jumped into his arms.

  “I’ve missed you, Daddy.” Tears poured out of her eyes. It had been six months since Will had seen his kids, and the last visit to Philadelphia hadn’t ended well.

  “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, baby girl,” said Will as he lifted her up to squeeze her tight. He looked toward the entrance to the baggage-claim area. “Where’s your brother?”

  “He’s back there, Daddy. He didn’t want to run to find you like I did.”

  Will frowned. His relationship with eleven-year-old Skylar hadn’t changed in the last two years since he left Philadelphia for Atlanta in a move he felt was for the betterment of everyone. As for fifteen-year-old Ethan, he never got over the life-changing event that precipitated Will’s involuntary retirement from the Philadelphia Police Department and the subsequent breakup of his family. He laid the blame squarely on Will’s shoulders, and since then, their relationship had been icy at best.

  “There he is,” said Will as he lowered Skylar and took her by the hand. She had a small backpack, and both kids had a suitcase they’d checked. Will and Skylar walked to meet Ethan, who was standing in front of Delta 322’s baggage carousel.

  Ethan’s hair had grown considerably since Will saw him last, and the matching set of earrings was certainly a new addition to his appearance. Will, who was not authoritarian by any means, immediately frowned at his son’s new look and dour demeanor.

  “Hey, Dad,” Ethan offered unemotionally.

  Will put his arm around his son’s shoulder and tried to hug him, but Ethan recoiled slightly.

  “Happy New Year, son.” Will tried to appear cheerful.

  “Yeah, right,” mumbled Ethan in response. “Couldn’t be any worse than the last two.”

  Ouch.

  Will had learned to push aside Ethan’s snide comments, but he couldn’t ignore them. Each time they saw one another, Will inwardly hoped this would be the time his son set aside the past, glad to see the father who loved him and had been his hero before the incident that changed their lives.

  “I see ours coming, Daddy!” exclaimed Skylar in her usually chipper way. “Frankie bought me the pink one with the pastel flowers. Isn’t it awesome?”

  Will couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the name synonymous with Judas Iscariot, the world’s most famous betrayer. Frankie Scallone had been a member of Will’s unit on Philly SWAT. He later became outed as the man Will’s wife was having an affair with during the height of the scandal.

  “Yeah, baby girl, it sure is,” replied Will. Once again, he had to shake off the natural repercussions of a nasty divorce. He couldn’t fight every small skirmish in an attempt to change the past. He had to rise above it and be glad he got to spend time wit
h his children, something that had been a challenge in the past due to his financial situation.

  His ex-wife had no compunction to withhold his visitation rights over his periodic underpayments of child support. His inability to pay fully, or perform his end of the bargain, as she put it, resulted in contact with the children being limited. Her own selective enforcement of the final divorce decree was not sanctioned by the judge.

  Most likely, if Will hired a lawyer, the court would set her straight. But if he didn’t have the resources to pay child support in full every month, together with extra medical and school expenses that frequently arose, how could he afford to hire an attorney to protect his rights?

  So the formerly happy family tried to find a way to coexist from afar. Will took a new job at Mercedes-Benz Stadium as a member of their enhanced security team. Karen moved on with his former partner, happily cruising to the Caribbean on this New Year’s Eve. And his two kids, one loving and the other not so much, were going to see Beyoncé and Jay-Z in concert while their dad worked.

  Chapter 13

  McPherson Building

  Washington, DC

  Gone were the days when you had to hustle down to the courthouse and file a pleading or brief before the clerk’s office closed at four o’clock. With the advent of modern, sophisticated computers systems and the internet, end of the day meant having your document filed electronically before midnight.

  The clock was ticking toward the proverbial witching hour, and Hayden Blount, the newest partner in the prestigious Washington law firm of Stein, Mitchell, was putting the final touches on the most important legal document she’d created in her career.

  She read it on her computer for the fourth time, constantly tweaking a word here and there, editing the supplemental brief requested by the United States Supreme Court in the matter of The Removal of the President of the United States.

  A chill came over Hayden’s body despite the cozy seventy-two-degree temperature in her office. It was the gravity of the pleading that she was drafting, both for the occupant of the Oval Office and the benefit of future presidents as well.

  Politics was in her blood, although not enough to encourage her to seek public office. She was the descendent of a long lineage of American statesmen dating back to North Carolinian William Blount, a signer of the Constitution and the man who played a leading role in helping Tennessee become a state. The children of William Blount and Mary Grainger went on to become congressmen, judges, and military heroes.

  For Hayden, the Blount family history was something to be proud of, but not necessarily judged by. She planned to make her own way in life. With a drive and passion unparalleled in her peers, she strived for excellence.

  Strikingly attractive and in her mid-thirties, Hayden had been anointed one of DC’s top forty most eligible women on Hinge’s Most Eligible annual list. Driven, powerful, and aloof, she didn’t care anything about being eligible or attractive. She cared about winning, especially when it came to defending those under attack.

  Hayden had been brought on board at Stein, Mitchell for many reasons, including her stellar clerkship for Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito. Justice Alito, a Yale grad and Bush appointee, had been on the Court since 2006. After Hayden graduated from Duke Law School with high honors, she chose to join the group of clerks under Justice Alito’s tutelage. She was glad she did.

  The prestige of clerking for a Supreme Court justice could only be surpassed by being appointed to the Court itself. She’d learned the inner workings of the Court and thought processes of the justices, which served her well in preparation of this brief.

  Nothing like this particular issue had been in front of the Court in its history. It came as the result of politics at its worst on all sides of the issue. From the moment this president was declared the victor in his first bid for public office, he came under considerable scrutiny from the media and the half of the country who opposed him. Even some within his party were having buyer’s remorse.

  As a result, his first two years in office swirled in turmoil and rancor. The political divide in America, which had begun decades prior and grew wider during the prior administration, developed into a full-blown chasm over the president’s first term.

  Day after day, with every twenty-four-hour news cycle, a new crisis or accusation beset his presidency. Some questioned the ability of the president to continue under the never-ending barrage he suffered, some of which was deserved, much of which was not.

  As the midterm elections approached in the president’s first term, the Democratic party was poised to make huge gains in Congress. A blue wave was predicted in the House and Senate. However, the wave election never materialized. The president’s party gained seats in the Senate to widen its majority, and the number of losses in the House were far below expectations.

  The confirmation battle surrounding the appointment of Justice Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court, considered by most pundits to be a winning argument for the minority party, backfired. It served to rally supporters of the president, but the record turnout resulted in a democratic-controlled House of Representatives.

  The divided Congress served to stymie much of the president’s agenda, and like others before him, he chose to govern through executive orders, directives issued by the president that managed the affairs of government and had the force of law.

  The number of executive orders issued by the president during the second half of his first term troubled members of his own party because of the precedent it was setting, and caused the democrats to scream bloody murder.

  While the battles fought in his first two years in office were largely related to his personal activities and his inarticulate expressions, which were often deemed offensive, in his second two years in office, he was attacked for circumventing Congress. As a result, the federal court system was inundated with litigation in an attempt to curtail the powers of the presidency.

  Despite all of the inside-the-beltway drama that the average American cared little about, the president succeeded in implementing his policies, and he was easily his party’s nominee to seek a second term. On the opposite side of the aisle, a crowded field of thirty-eight vied for the party’s nomination to take on the president in the next election.

  Heavily funded and widely popular among young adults, an obscure Texas congressman, Robert “Beto” O’Rourke, won the democratic nomination. Young, energetic, and seen as the second coming of John F. Kennedy, O’Rourke took on the president, who was nearly thirty years his senior.

  The battle was hard-fought, but thanks to an unusual boost from union workers and African-Americans, the president won a narrow electoral victory, but lost the popular vote for the second time.

  As had been the case in the 2000 and 2004 elections, the final state to announce its results was Florida. Voting machine failures and allegations of absentee-ballot abuse marred the results. Assertions of voter fraud in Nevada placed those election results into the hands of the newly constituted Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, which now included Arizona, Nevada, Montana, Idaho, and Alaska. The states of Hawaii, California, Oregon, and Washington were merged into a newly created Twelfth Circuit. The case was still moving its way through the courts as the investigation into the alleged voter fraud continued. It was not expected to alter the outcome of Nevada’s six electoral votes that went to O’Rourke.

  Over the last four years, the president had grown increasingly distrustful of his cabinet and many of his advisors. Repeated leaks to the media were a problem he’d battled since he was first elected. Staffers were known to undermine his authority. Some members of the cabinet openly defied his authority and refused to act upon his executive orders.

  Within those early days after his reelection, there were the whispers. The hushed insinuations that the president was increasingly mentally unstable. That the rigors of office were beginning to cloud his judgment. That he’d circled the wagons so tight around him that only his immediate family was able to provide him c
ounsel. In essence, he’d walled himself in.

  All of the drama surrounding the White House reached a crescendo seven days after the election when Florida certified its vote in favor of the president. The media led the outrage at the methodology followed by the state. Democrats rallied their legal machinery and flooded the Sixth Circuit Federal Courts with legal proceedings using several angles. Even the vice president decried the decision because of the questionable means by which it had been reached.

  The president was fed up with his elections being challenged as illegitimate. When the vice president made his feelings known, he found several allies within the president’s cabinet. The democrats vowed to initiate impeachment proceedings in the House, which they retained, and now those on the fence two years ago were willing to join in. The never-ending string of controversies didn’t end with the election; they were renewed with a new robustness.

  On Veteran’s Day following the election, a letter was delivered to Congress by the vice president, which was signed by a majority of the cabinet. The letter was succinct and to the point.

  To the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives:

  We, the majority of the cabinet of the United States, duly established in Article II, Section 2 of the Constitution, hereby declare pursuant to the Twenty-Fifth Amendment to the Constitution, that the president is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office and should be removed from office accordingly.

  If the president hadn’t lost his mind prior to the invocation of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment, he certainly did after receiving delivery of the letter to Congress. After his head exploded, figuratively speaking, his first call was to his lead outside counsel at Stein, Mitchell—Pat Cipollone.

  Chapter 14

  McPherson Building

  Washington, DC