by Scott Todd
Maybe she'd think about all the poor souls who died horrible, painful deaths with the help of her hands as she was breathing her final, last painful breaths while getting devoured. She probably wouldn't. Lives didn't matter to these monsters- just money.
And I had more pressing issues. One down, and one to go. Time was wasting, and I had to get back to the shoreline soon.
I snuck back around the way I had come, and spotted him laying down in the back of the SUV. I seized the opportunity and snuck quietly down behind the cars without him hearing me. Through the glass I could see he was asleep, and his pistol was laying in his hand on his stomach.
I needed no further invitation. I snuck up quietly, grabbed the gun, and pulled it firmly from his hand with a quick yank. Startled, he woke up, saying "Jess?" He realized that I wasn't her, and looked at me in shock, speechless.
I backed off and raised the rifle at his chest. "Don't move," I commanded him, and he put his hands up.
"Where's... Where's Jessica? What did you...?" he began hesitantly.
"I'll be asking the questions here, mister," I replied unwaveringly.
"Mister?" he said. "You realize who I am?"
His face was unmistakable. "Yes... I know exactly who you are. You're the President of the... of the former United States," I replied, and feeling another sense of urgency.
"What do you mean... The FORMER United States?" he quickly responded. "You better put that gun down Son, or I'll have you..."
"Shut the hell up," I interrupted. "You'll do nothing. There is nothing you CAN do. Not so tough now, are you, without all your SS team and big US military to back you up anymore. You wouldn't even fund that science expedition," I blurted out.
"Wha...? WHAT science expedition? What are you talking about?" he asked, playing it off. "And you will address me as Mr. President."
"No I will not. I will address you as a steaming pile of dog shit murderer, that catered to politics and big oil interests, sacrificed the innocent lives of untold thousands, and gave all our hard earned money to the military, you scumbag pig," I countered back in a moment of rage.
He beamed at me in anger. "Why you!" he started to say, and he tried to make a move at me, but grimaced in pain when his crippled leg wouldn't go anywhere. I looked down and he was losing a lot of blood, and it was clearly broken badly- twisting in nasty directions.
"Ohh, I'm sooo sorry bout your leg there, captain. Here, let me help you with the other one." I got out my knife. He looked up at me incredulously, and stared with wide, terrified eyes at the menacing, sharp and bloody blade.
"You live by the sword and you die by the sword," I said. "And your time has come. You are going to die in the next minutes here, so get used to the idea. Embrace it. Be terrified by it. Much the same way all the poor souls you sacrificed in vain did. Over what? Money? Power? Favors? You like money, don't you, you bastard. So here, have some money!"
I quickly and ruthlessly plunged the knife into his lower good leg with everything I had. The sharp blade went clean through, pinning his leg down on the floorboard. He let out a blood curdling scream, trying to pull his leg back. But he was only increasing his pain with every movement, so he quickly stopped moving. I watched the blood come pouring out. He tried to stop his leg from twitching.
He looked up at me, shocked and stretching his hands out, like trying to push me away, and pleading. Grimacing in pain, he screamed "Why are you doing this?? You can't do this! I am the President!!!"
"No, you WERE the President. The US does not exist any more, you bastard. And I'll be damned if the likes of you ever grace this earth again. I'm going to kill every last one of your kind I can find- if there are any left, that is. You just LOVED all that power didn't you. You like power, don't you. DON'T you... So here! Have some more power!"
I twisted the knife a full 90 degrees, opening up his wound, and feeling flesh give way. He screamed again in agony.
"Awww, so sorry, captain. But hey. You know, since I was such a nice guy and all... Tell you what. How bout I give you a chance to tell your story, so I can keep that in mind, huh? I mean hey, just for posterity's sakes, ok? So let's start from the top." I pointed the rifle at his head, while still holding the knife in place.
I entertained the notion that I might be enjoying this too much, but I wasn't. I loathed it. Every second of it. But it had to be done. Power conceded nothing without a gun to its head. Well... Now I had a gun to its head. So I was ready for the concessions. Too bad it had to come to this to get them. But it was just the doomed... Forgetting and repeating history, is all.
Had they come to the island in a cooperative spirit, things might have been entirely different. But they didn't. They had put guns to our heads and raped my friend. Even in the face of such a world-changing catastrophe like this, all that mattered to them was maintaining their control. Typical, power mongering monsters. So no mercy. None.
"By the powers granted to me in the Declaration of Independence, as a citizen of the United States I hereby absolve the Federal Government. Seeing as you all didn't abide by the US Constitution anymore, I won't either. I hereby declare all federally owned land and all federal possessions to revert back to the remaining people after this disaster, to be divided amongst them as they see fit. You are relieved of your duties, mister. We don't need your corruption, your greed, or your bullshit government any longer," I proclaimed.
"I mean look at what you just did!" I continued, working myself up into an unforgiving rage. "Our entire country was probably just wiped out, and you come here, clinging to your power at all costs, trying to seize what little was left and to perpetuate your will. There was no discussion. There was no spirit of cooperation. NO! There was just YOU and your government in your mind, and to hell with the rest of us. Well not any more, you fucking pig. That ends now. That ends here.
"We that are left will one day write another Constitution. And THIS time, we will cure the last one's deficiencies and see to it that people like you shall never again control such powerful weapons and armies. We will make the few government positions the least desired jobs in the country, and insure that there is no incentive whatsoever for it to grow to the grotesque, absurdly obese, and abusive proportions that it did- ever again," I retorted.
He just stared at me in wide-eyed disbelief. "You're a lunatic," he gasped. "And who's 'we'?" he asked, further startled. "Who are the others and how many?"
"A lunatic huh. Is that right?" I mocked. "Who's the real lunatic here, Mr. warmonger? Ask YOURSELF that question. Because the real answer is you. YOU are the one who worked your whole life for that coveted position, and you ended up stealing it from the people, just like so many others. You think we don't know about the hacked electronic voting machines, the backroom deals, and the bribed justices? You think we don't know about the true power of the Vatican?"
He suddenly looked almost through me, and his stare cut directly through his extreme pain. His expression changed, and he blurted out "Who ARE you?"
"Just an average guy that had access to the internet and freedom of thought. Freedom of research. And freedom to develop my own assessments, after looking at the situation from many different viewpoints. And that was what REALLY scared you all, didn't it. You were doing your damnedest to even seize THAT and shut it down, weren't you. Cause ideas were flying around, with more power than your bullets. And you were just about to succeed before this all went down."
He just glared at me, but did not contest my words. Then he finally started talking slowly and reflectively, despite his pain. I was hardly sympathetic.
"About five days ago, we got an emergency call from the Chief of Staff about some big problem in the Pacific. We knew about this, but had no idea it was so serious..." he began.
"Excuse me, but I have information that there were MANY scientists that disagreed with that assessment, and were damn worried," I interrupted him. He looked back at me, puzzled, as if wondering how I knew that.
"Well anyway... I was carted off
in a chopper, and then flown to Air Force One," he said grimacing, and avoiding the other topics. "The plane was in the air in minutes, and at first we just circled DC in a holding pattern, trying to get more information, on all available channels.
"But then the calls started dropping inexplicably, one by one, from the west coast to the east coast. Just as the last call dropped off from the ground in DC, our pilot picked up something on radar. He said it covered his whole display. Readouts showed it was over 4,000 feet high, and heading directly for us at over 600 miles per hour. So we climbed to 10,000 feet, and he set a course east, out over the Atlantic.
"We waited and waited, and then the pilot said it passed below us. We didn't even know it was a wave until we got a last minute, desperate call from Minot Air Force base in North Dakota. Then their call dropped too. So we tried contacting everyone we could think of on all channels, and nothing. Not a thing. The pilot started getting worried about our low fuel. But finally we made contact with a sub, and told them to meet us here, on a hunch that..."
Then he went silent.
"Oh!... Allow me to guess there, captain!" I chimed in, playing the game. "...On a hunch that you might find land at the top of Mount Mitchell, seeing as it is the highest peak in the east...?"
He looked up at me, still grimacing.
"Yeah, you could say that. It was suggested by a head scientist we had on board," he mumbled.
"Oh, a head scientist! Well how bout that! I don't suppose that might have been one of the scientists that suppressed this and told you it was ok..." I began to say. But he interrupted me.
"Look. Yeah, we knew about the problem. But we just didn't give it enough priority. I got private assurances from the heads of the USGS that everything was ok, so we denied the funding for the emergency expedition. And how in the HELL do you even know about any of that? What are you, a scientist or something?"
"Not quite, no. Let's just say I dabbled a bit in seismology, and got very lucky and acted very fast. But back to you," I diverted. "So I see. I guess invading Iran next was more important than any supposed problem in the Pacific, huh? I mean like all those profitable oil fields on the Iran-Iraq border, right?" I sarcastically remarked.
He just glared at me again, and looked down at the knife in his leg, grimacing. But again, no response. He just gasped. Then he finally continued.
"Once we set a course for here, we ran into the meteors, and one hit the plane in a wing, setting us on fire. Our escort F-16's were destroyed. We went down slowly, and the pilot tried everything he could to ease the impact. Jess had ushered me to a rear emergency door, and dragged me out at the last second before impact with the water.
"We hit hard, and heard the plane explode. That's how I broke my leg. She came swimming up to me, but we saw no one else alive. We found a piece of a wing still floating, and she heroically dragged me up on to it and paddled us with her legs all the way here. I lost all hope after four days, but she just wouldn't quit. And then we finally saw the land, and stumbled upon the small boat floating offshore," he concluded.
"Wow, what an amazing story," I said dryly. "Too bad all of your submariners are dead... All except for one."
He looked up at me in surprise.
"Oh yeah," I continued. "They arrived and arrested my friends with weapons, commandeering the island."
He suddenly looked more carefully at the rifle I was carrying, and his eyes got wider.
"They almost had us, but I was taking a crap behind a tree. And let's just say I didn't appreciate them at ALL, trying to pull an NSPD-51 on us and raping my friend. Well, they paid for it with their lives. That sub is right down there," I said, pointing. "You just hadn't seen it yet, because you came in around the western side of the mountain."
He stared blankly at me in disbelief, and then finally put his head down in defeat.
"You and her are going to die here, by my hands. And that is a top secret I WILL take to my grave with me. You like top secrets, don't you," I said more menacingly, shoving the gun barrel to his temple and twisting the knife again slightly. But I wasn't through.
"You know, you people just never learn, do you," I said. "How many more times are populations going to have to rise up and kill their corrupt leaders to get the point across that if you abuse it, you lose it? We trusted foolishly in people like you again. And we're sick of it. SICK of being robbed, sacrificed, and lied to. You hear me?"
He could only stare in disoriented pain.
I quickly pulled the knife out, and he reached down and covered the bloody hole with a hand. I wasted no more time. I had heard enough from this scum, and was finished with my diatribe.
I turned the knife in my hand and suddenly plunged it into his heart, as hard as I could. The blow knocked him back into the rear of the front seat, and he grabbed my hands, trying to pull it out, with a death stare straight ahead. But his hands were weak, and I forced it in further. Then I turned it and pushed harder. And turned it. And turned it some more. He finally went limp with a final gasp for air and collapsed. "That's for the abused," I finally announced.
And it was over. The President was dead. Too bad I couldn't spread the news. But at least he wouldn't be killing anyone in vain... Or for any reason... EVER AGAIN.
I pulled the knife out of his chest, took a few steps over to the adjacent car, and collapsed myself on the Caddy seat. I breathed a desperate sigh of relief that I had accomplished my mission. I laid back, and tried to collect my thoughts.
I felt no remorse whatsoever for the so-called "treason against my country" I had just committed. Besides, there was no more country anyway, as far as I knew at that point. And if there was ever going to be another one from whatever was left, I had just made damn sure it wasn't going to be ruled by THAT tyrant.
There was a certain satisfaction in that, that exceeded anything else I had ever done in my life. Even if it meant I had to pay for it with my own life eventually. But I had a plan.
I looked at my watch, and was mortified that I had spent over two hours away from Ben. Surely he would come looking for me any minute. But he might not. Scientists are generally obsessive- hell, they've got to be with so much to study. And if Ben ever needed time to reflect on all that had happened, and explore the shoreline, and do more calculations, I reasoned that time was now- and he would probably take it. It was a gamble. But I still had the problem of what to do with "Jess."
I knew I needed to cover my tracks with a plausible story. But hey, there were mountain lions around that liked to drag their kills, leaving blood trails into the woods.
Bingo.
I grabbed his body out of the SUV, and I did just that. I dragged him up Summit Trail, leaving a bloody trail line- right back to the very bloody spot where the bear and lion carcasses used to be. I left his body there. I figured a fresh piece of meat would be prime pickings for the desperately starving beasts. And that's all he was to me- just a fresh piece of meat. Just like common people were to him. Fair's fair, I mused.
As I turned around to head back down the hill though, I was frozen. I heard snarls behind me. Yes, that's plural- as in more than one. I readied my rifle and backed down the hill backwards, very cautiously.
No sooner than I was about fifty feet away, a ravenous pack of mountain lions emerged from the trees, and wasted no time in seizing his body. In a flash, it was gone into the forest in a whirlwind of vicious, gnarly teeth. And as scary as that was to see, I had to wonder if that was normal- so many together at once. Maybe they were adapting to the bizarre circumstances, and learning to share territories- and meals. I didn't know and didn't care. I was OUTTA THERE.
I quickly made my way back down the hill and through the parking lot, looking nervously behind me, and heading towards my captive. Spotting her right where I left her, I approached cautiously, but she was still out. A nasty bruise had formed on the side of her face from the blow.
I noted that the bears and lions hadn't found her. For some odd reason they seemed to prefer that western, de
stroyed side of the mountain.
But what was I going to do with this other minion of evil? Should I give her another chance at life? Should I see if she could assimilate into a vastly changed, new world? Cause it certainly wasn't the New World Order she'd signed up for anymore. And her leader was dead. Would she buy my story? I mean all I saw was a glimpse of those lions as they dragged him out of that SUV and up the hill into the forest. I mean I really did. *Wink*
What mercy had she shown for anyone? Did she care about all the lives she helped snuff out by protecting that tyrant? Guess not. I thought of the innocent children and civilians now in their graves over in Afghanistan and Iraq. I thought of my fellow American soldiers who were forced from their own blind trust to fight and die for big oil. And she was there, protecting his evil deeds, through all of it. Perhaps it was time to rid the world of people like her too. People who knowingly support these atrocities in the name of just needing a job.
