Killing the Giants

by Jeff Bennington

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the Giants have ripped the rug of prosperity right out from under your feet. Their strategy has been to distract you with nonstop television programming and marketing. They’ve made it not only possible but advantageous for American corporations to abandon their manufacturing base, selling your jobs and your wealth overseas. They’ve created a housing and banking crisis, deceiving us at every turn!

  “So I ask you; where are the voices of the American people? Why are we not outraged at our elected officials? I’m here to tell you that the voices have been silenced, our elected officials have been bought off and the ultra-elite have manipulated our entire system. They’ve sold out our country and traded your liberties for their own personal gain. In the process, they are masking the demise of a once-prosperous America to strategically establish a new world order!

  “They are winning…yet we must fight back! We must speak the truth! And we must shout loud and clear that we are still free in these United States of America!”

  Chapter 48

  Memory after Memory

  The guard pressed the barrel deep into Blake’s neck. Blake’s feet began to feel numb as the creek’s ice-cold water rushed through his boots, sending a chill up his thigh.

  “What are you doing out here?” asked the angry guard.

  “Just lookin’ around. I never noticed this place before. I was just curious, that’s all.”

  The guard jabbed Blake with the barrel; Blake’s head jetted forward. “Bullshit! You’re with them, aren’t you?”

  “With who?”

  “The protestors out by the highway!”

  Blake could tell that the guard was alone. He began to visualize where the gun was in relation to his hands. In a matter of seconds, he choreographed a series of quick movements, imagining how he’d disarm the guard. The next time the guard spoke he’d push the barrel out of his line of fire and twist the gun 360 degrees so that it would unravel out of his hands. And if all goes well, he’d be in control.

  The watchman tapped Blake’s shoulder with the gun. “Now get over—”

  Blake turned and gripped the barrel. The guard instinctively pulled the trigger, causing the gun to discharge, echoing through the gorge. When the gun fired, everyone in the commons heard the blast. Thousands of bodies twitched in shock from the jolt. The noise was completely out of place and disrupted Dave’s speech.

  The two men wrestled with the gun, arms twisting, water splashing. Blake kicked the man in his gut and the guard tumbled backward as if a wrecking ball had crashed into his stomach. He tripped on a river rock and crashed into the cold, shallow water, lying stunned and aching. The look on his face told Blake that he didn’t expect that to happen. Blake pointed the gun at the guard, gritted his teeth and said, “You’ve got ten seconds to get the hell out of here! And I’m not messing around either.” Blake nodded toward the woods. “Get up and run!”

  The guard hesitated, but then stood to his feet.

  Blake narrowed his eyes. “Now!”

  The guard turned around but didn’t move fast enough. Blake fired a round into the sky. The bang of the bullet crashed like a bolt of lightning and the security guard took off running.

  The crowd shuddered.

  The guard never looked back.

  Blake dropped to his knees from the stress of the situation. He landed in the damp sand at the edge of the creek. He took several deep breaths, used the gun to prop himself up and began walking back toward the bridge. Blake’s numb fingers released the gun and it sunk into the spongy creek bed.

  • • •

  Dennis passed the slow-moving truck and continued swerving in and out of the busy road. He began to recognize the curves and steep ridges as he got closer to Dover’s Cliff. The morning flurries developed into small snowflakes and the edges of his windshield began to fog up. He cleared the rubbish from the dashboard and clicked the fan on so the heat could clear the glass.

  Dennis peered straight ahead, gripped the steering wheel and said, “I’m coming, Blake! I’m coming!”

  He imagined the worst-case scenarios: death by Caesar, crucifixion, working the rig. The idea of someone capturing Blake confused him. Never, he thought. How could they? Dennis’s hand began to shake and his eyes swelled with tears. Life without Blake seemed unimaginable. He wiped his shirtsleeve across his cheek and soaked up the emotional rain. Terrified of losing Blake, he flashed through his memories of his best buddy.

  He grinned and thought of the time when Blake beat the shit out of some guy at the local bar that started pushing him around. Dennis was drunk as usual and the stranger apparently thought Dennis would make great entertainment.

  Blake watched the man closely, studying his movements, his limp and which hand held his bottle of beer. When he decided that Dennis had had enough and when he knew what the man’s weaknesses were, he politely asked the stranger to stop. Of course, like any badass, the man refused and told Blake to mind his own business.

  Blake glared at the man as if considering obedience, but then grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and dragged him outside. He bludgeoned the fellow and came back inside the bar and ordered another drink.

  The badass never returned.

  Memory after memory, Dennis remembered his life with Blake, occasionally swerving back into his lane. He was overcome with emotion and only mildly aware of how dangerous the roads had become.

  Chapter 49

  Frozen in Time

  While the northern wind blew snow across the commons, Dr. Liggin raised his voice. Every minute of his speech had been recorded and aired live before the material could be edited. The rogue reporters and correspondents continued in their quest for the truth.

  “We must take an inventory of our freedoms and our constitution. We must examine the America that we’re living in and ask ourselves: is this what our fathers, grandfathers, brothers and sisters fought and died for? Did they die for freedom and sovereignty? Or, did they die in vain?

  “Even today, the war machine continues fighting battles under the false pretense of peace. Only our sons and daughters are no longer fighting for liberty and justice. They are fighting to satisfy a pledge made by the elite to forge a new world order where they will rule the globe with absolute authority, where there will be no source of accountability. Our borders are no longer secured because the Giants want our country to crumble.”

  David paused to catch his breath.

  “We must ask ourselves: when the new world is established, to whom will we make our plea for justice when there is only one government? To whom will we cry discrimination or demand our basic human rights? To whom will we report corruption?

  “It’s my belief that if the Giants accomplish their goals we will lose our ability to be governed by and for the people. We will lose our liberties and basic rights. We will lose our national sovereignty! If we do not draw a line in the sand and make our voices heard today, we will lose America, the home of the free!

  “Ladies and gentlemen, when did we let down our guard? When did we close our eyes to the truth? And how did this enemy get control? Those questions may never be answered. We may never know the truth or the details of their criminal conduct and corruption. We may never know the depth and breadth of their conspiracies. But if we do not open our eyes and decide that freedom is still our choice, we will not pass the America we know down to our children.

  “If we do not wake up to the ‘truth’ that has been blatantly forced down our political and economic throats, America the beautiful will never be sung again. ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ will be replaced with an international hymn of unity to the tune of collective allegiance. If we do not open our eyes, our statues and memorials throughout this great nation will be scorned because our heritage and proud history will offend those who were once our enemies.

  “We must always remember the words outlined in President Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address when he proclaimed:

  ‘That this nation, under God, shall have a n
ew birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.’

  “You see, nothing is more tyrannical than a government that’s led by a secret clan, who are no more voted into office than the family pets who occupy the White House. Any elected official who pursues a global policy that’s contrary to the general welfare of the citizens of the United States should at the very least be tried for treason and immediately banned from public office.

  “We the people need to rise up once again and reclaim the authority that was given to us by our forefathers and by the very rights afforded to us by the God of the universe. Our civic duties should no longer be viewed as a ‘bore,’ but rather a responsibility that each one of us must carry to our graves. We the people are these United States of America!”

  • • •

  Dennis stared through the windshield wondering if Blake would be okay. Traveling about fifty miles per hour, his mind drove equally as fast, racing past memories of Blake and Chapleaux. His hands held the wheel, but his grip weakened. Country music played and snowflakes turned to slush when they hit the front windshield. The wipers swung hard, flip-flopping in time with the music, swooshing and banging over and over, hypnotizing Dennis, sending him into a world of dreams.

  Dazed and unaware of the danger ahead of him, Dennis sped toward the curve, driving straight toward a line of cars parked on the side of the road. Before his vision could recognize the dark shapes approaching, Dennis drove straight through the cars toward the natural-gas metering station.

  The truck nicked the front bumper of one vehicle and the rear bumper of the other, and then dipped down into the ditch next to the side of the road. The momentum converted the truck’s forward-moving energy into a twisting motion, sending the truck crashing and tumbling on the grass. The truck rolled over and over, sliding across the wet lawn as it headed toward the metering station.

  The attendees near the terminal rushed out of the way, gasping as they witnessed the commotion. The kinetic energy thrust the heavy vehicle through the grass, leaving a trail of mud and pitting. Then, with a thunderous bang, Blake’s old truck collided into the steel structure, cracking the main gas line wide open. Unseen by the naked eye, natural gas and oxygen spewed out of the damaged pipes. The truck lay silently hissing, its tires still spinning.

  Dr. Liggin and the people in the crowd turned to see what had happened. Several folks ran toward the truck to help the driver and potential passengers.

  Dennis started to climb out of the broken side window, sliding over shattered glass, breathing gas vapors and burning oil. He hobbled away from the truck, bloodied, battered and dazed. He raised his hands up to acknowledge that he was alive.

  • • •

  Blake ran up the hill near the bridge when he heard the crash. He immediately recognized his truck lying upside down and started running, worried that what he witnessed had really happened. How could my plan end this way? he wondered. Is Dennis okay? Is there a fire?

  • • •

  Barely able to stand, Dennis yelled out, “I’m okay! I’m all right! I think I just bumped my he—”

  At that very moment, an electrical spark ignited the spilling fuel, instantaneously igniting the natural gas, causing an explosion that shocked the earth for miles. The explosion blew Dennis thirty feet forward, showering his back and limbs with shrapnel and debris from the truck and pipeline. A flash of ignited fuel and natural gas engulfed Dennis and the entire area surrounding the metering station. The crowd nearby felt the rumble and fell to their knees—some escaped the flames, others did not. The explosion generated an intense heat that melted the snow within fifty feet of the crash site.

  The gas line immediately exploded as well, causing a mega-explosion that ruptured the large pipe, blowing the earth that covered it thirty feet into the air. Dirt and metal blasted vertically in a straight line from the metering station, north toward The Palace. The buried gas line lifted and exploded out of the soil as fast as the eye could see. Racing through the curves and dips on the side of the road, creating a filthy blackened crater that seemed to have a life of its own.

  The explosion moved forward like a giant snake bursting out of the ground, racing after its prey. The snake threw trees and fencing out of its way like a chain saw throwing wood chips. The snow that lay on the ground was quickly covered in dirt, mud and pieces of steel. The smell of gas and smoke filled the witnesses’ lungs and throats with a greasy, smoky taste.

  Blake screamed as he watched the flames and shrapnel consume Dennis’s body.

  “Nooooo! Dennis! Nooooo!”

  He ran as fast as he could toward Dennis, who was lying facedown in the snow, his body blackened from the flames, steaming from the remnants of hot clothing and burning skin.

  “No! No! No!” Blake cried out.

  Blake fell to his knees and witnessed the damage that had been done to his little friend. Dennis’s back was practically ripped wide open from the hot metal and glass that pulverized his flesh. Black and red bubbles oozed with blood and fluid. His skin looked as if he had been laid over a fire. The back of his skull was packed with metal and splintered glass.

  Dennis died upon impact.

  Blake grabbed Dennis’s body and turned it around. He lifted his friend’s head and shoulders to his chest and held him tight. He squeezed him as if he would never let him go.

  Blake cried out for the loss of everything that had meaning to him. He cried for the loss of Penny and the girls. He moaned inaudible words as tears and saliva poured out of his mouth and nose. With his head nestled into Dennis’s neck, Blake’s body shook and convulsed in despair.

  The moment seemed to be frozen in time as some of the onlookers stood near Blake, uncertain of what to do, in shock from their own experience of the blast. Others talked on their cell phones, frantically calling 9-1-1 for help. In his peripheral vision, Blake saw what seemed like a blurred image of slow-motion chaos. Having lost his concept of time, he sat cradling Dennis for what seemed like hours before the paramedics arrived.

  No one noticed the copper tubing or oxygen tanks. They had no need to suspect anything other than an unfortunate accident. They had no need to search under the bridge. Only a trained pipe fitter or an expert in explosives would question the true cause of the blast.

  • • •

  When the paramedics lifted Dennis onto the gurney, Blake felt as if they ripped the last bit of love out of his soul. Dennis was gone forever and Blake had to come to terms with how much he needed him as a friend. His codependence on Dennis’s inadequacies would not surface until the pain receded. Yet in that moment he whispered, “I love you, little buddy. I love you!”

  Chapter 50

  Everything You Have

  The crowd near Buffalo Creek felt another blast more powerful than the first, like a jet breaking the sound barrier, only stronger. Cars rattled, knees buckled and the earth trembled when the combustible gas reached The Palace.

  The pipeline continued exploding until it ran out of energy. The manicured lawn and gardens on top of the buried pipe were immediately destroyed. Cobblestone, shrubbery and fruit trees splintered and popped out of the ground as the explosion made its way to the side of The Palace. It entered the basement, where the mechanical functions concealed the building’s stored energy.

  The security guards at the entrance of the forest reserve notified the security base of the recent roadside catastrophe. Unfortunately, by the time they called for an evacuation they could already feel the surge of power approaching. Security turned on an evacuation signal, while red emergency lights flashed at every exit.

  They couldn’t escape.

  When the combustible gas reached its highest temperature and pressure that the pipes could withstand, physics took over and displaced the pent-up energy by forcing anything that pushed against it with equal force. This phenomenon continued as the explosion reached the boiler systems and the labyrinth of gas lines that weaved their way to ever
y gas appliance in the facility. With an endless series of explosions, the main floor of The Palace lifted several feet up and crashed down, causing dozens of men to fall through the fragmented floor.

  Flames and deadly steam from the boiler system burst through the floor, engulfing many of the other men. The pressure caused the building to crumble. The force from the explosion displaced the footers and beams, and arches cracked and tumbled down. The delicate fabrics and linens that draped the windows and furniture caught fire, exacerbating the blaze.

  Burning and bleeding, a few men ran into walls in utter confusion. Some untouched by the fire or falling pillars died from smoke inhalation. The sight of torn flesh and crushed brains left others incapacitated, in shock and out of time to escape the massive inferno that engulfed The Palace.

  There were very few survivors. Joseph Heinrich, already nearing his last few moments of life, did not have the energy to escape and was crushed by a fallen I-beam. Most of his peers suffered a similar fate. The few that survived were seriously injured or suffered severe burns.

  • • •

  The tragedy was unparalleled in its devastation and untimely circumstance. One of the news correspondents covering the event stood near the entrance to the reserve. Her cheeks were blackened from running eyeliner and her hair tousled from falling over during the blast. She brushed a loose curl away from her face and the producer counted, “Three, two, one, go!”