by R. P. Wolff
Instead of getting out as ordered, the Mater policemen put the car in reversed and sped backwards. The soldier closed his door as the driver followed the Mater car. The Mater car tried to do a three-way turn, but Lance’s driver slammed into the Mater police car. Lance’s neck jerked back and forth with a painful whiplash. Instinctively, Lance and the other men exited the car with their weapons drawn. The Mater policeman on the passenger side started firing his weapon, but it was no match for the three Establishees as they returned fire and struck the Mater silent. The driver tried to run away, but Lance caught up to him and demanded that he stopped, which the Mater did knowing that he would be shot otherwise.
The Mater dropped to his knees and pleaded, “please don’t shoot.”
The soldier hand cuffed the Mater’s hands in back with wire ties.
“Bang, bang!” Two shot shots rang out.
“I got him,” the driver said. “He’s dead. He tried to escape.”
Lance squinted his eyes. He hadn’t seen the Mater in the passenger seat trying to escape. The guy had been wounded. Lance thought it was excessive to kill the guy when they had him captured and he was wounded.
The driver then came around to where the other Mater guard was kneeling. He pointed his rifle at the kneeling man. “Hmmm, what do we have here,” the driver said. “You tried to kill us.”
“No, no, it wasn’t me. It was the other guy.”
“Yeah, it was ‘the other guy’ did it trick, huh? You think we’re going to fall for that.”
Lance did not like the direction of what was happening, and he needed to stop it immediately.
“Hey, stop that,” Lance said. “We’re not murderers like them. Now, let’s take him with us as a prisoner and head to the hospital. I need to get there. Do you understand?”
The driver inhaled and glared at Lance.
The other solider came to Lance’s rescue, “Come on, man,” he said to the driver. “You’re getting carried away. We have many more battles to fight. Let’s get to the hospital.”
The driver did not say anything, but he did walk back to the car.
◆◆◆
As they sped away to the hospital, they interrogated their prisoner. The seating arrangements had changed, though. Lance was in the passenger seat with the other solider behind him and the prisoner behind the driver. The prisoner was squirming as the hands cuffed behind his back put him in an uncomfortable position.
The soldier said, “Okay, tough guy. What do you think you were doing?”
The prisoner panted. “Well, we stopped. We tried to back up. You were the ones that rammed into us.”
“Yeah, but you shot at us.”
“That was the other guy. I was driving.”
“All right, tell us what’s going on with the Mater policemen. What are you guys thinking?”
“I was supposed to work this morning at 9 a.m. I was getting ready to go on my shift, and I saw the TV broadcast. I tried calling the police station, but the phone system didn’t work. So I went ahead and picked up my partner, the guy he just killed.” He said this while nodding to the driver.
Lance was losing his patience. He desperately wanted to get to the hospital to see his daughter. The whiny prisoner disgusted Lance. These Mater policemen had regularly tormented people who weren’t avid Maters.
The prisoner continued, “We were trying to get control over the situation. We went to two schools only to see that they were under siege by a resistance. Umm, what’s going on?”
The Mater’s responses shocked Lance at how wimpy these Mater forces were. Although the Maters at the mansion did put up a battle, they surrendered rather quickly. They weren’t tough. They were soft.
Lance answered the prisoner’s question. “Well, you heard the broadcast. I’m the acting President. And we have killed the Mother of all the Gods.”
“But where’s her body?” the prisoner interrupted. “We didn’t see her body. Are you sure she’s dead?”
The solider in the back seat punched the prisoner in the face.
“Aaaah, shit!” the prisoner screamed.
“Don’t you doubt us,” the solider snorted.
“I’m sorry. What the hell is going on? This is so disturbing. You guys are infidels.”
The solider punched him again in the side of his face and then in his side.
“Aaah, shit, come on, man. I’m sorry for saying that.” The prisoner squatted forward in a semi-fetal position trying to shield himself from the solider. He whimpered, “But you guys killed our precious mother. I can’t believe that you killed her. What are we going to do?” He sniffled trying to hold back tears.
“Never mind what we’re going to do,” Lance replied. “What are you guys planning? And you better tell us, or I’ll unleash this guy on you again.”
“Plans? I can assure you there are no plans. Sure, I tried to call the station and other policemen, but I can’t get a hold of anyone. Without cellphones or other communications, there are no plans at least at my level.”
Lance thought about having the soldier hit him again to try to get more information but realized that the guy was probably telling the truth. The Establishment’s hackers had cleverly hacked into the Mater communication system and took control.
Lance’s driver spoke, “I say that we get a news crew at the hospital and hang this asshole. We need to set an example and let any Mater policeman out there that doesn’t turn themselves in, that they will be hung.”
“Yeah, I think he’s right,” the other soldier replied.
Lance didn’t interrupt them. He was against hanging the man, but maybe threatening him with it might make him talk more.
Lance spoke, “So are you going to tell us what’s going on within the Mater police force?”
The prisoner looked up and shivered. “Come on, I’ve answered all your questions. It’s only been a few hours since I found out. There’s nothing else to tell you. Now, are my comrades planning something as I speak? Probably, but I’m here.”
“What do you think they’ll do?” Lance asked.
The prisoner sighed. “I would imagine they would try to group together and round up everyone, but that would be difficult without the communications.”
“We’re here,” the driver said as they pulled up to the emergency entrance. “Should we hang the motherfucker?”
Lance said, “No. Come on, let’s go into the hospital. Tape up his mouth and blindfold him. Leave him in the car and follow me.” Lance scurried out the door and ran to the emergency room entrance.
Chapter 41
The scene at the hospital was chaotic. There were two Mater policemen lying still on the ground at the entrance with blood-soaked white uniforms. An Establishee held some nurses at the nurse station at gunpoint. There were about ten people in the emergency room’s waiting room lying on the ground with their hands cradled behind their heads. Women and children were crying.
Lance didn’t have time to address the chaos. He needed to attend to his daughter. He darted to the nurse’s station, pointed his rifle at the nurses, and shouted, “Where is my daughter, Becca Hampton?”
One of the nurse’s gasped, “She’s … she’s … um, she’s in ICU number 3 down the hall.” Her shaky hand pointed down the hall.
Lance sprinted and almost slipped on the slick tiled floor. As he ran down the hall, he bumped into a gurney that was turning from an adjacent hall. A somber looking nurse stopped. There was an Establishee to the side of the gurney. A body was on the gurney with the infamous white sheet over the person’s head.
Lance gasped. He feared that it might be his daughter. His legs buckled. “Who … who is that?” Lance asked and held his breath.
The Establishee sighed and looked to the ground. “It’s Sergeant Austin Foster. He died from a hand grenade explosion trying to save your daughter.”
Lance gasped. “Oh, no,” he said. Secretly, he was relieved that it wasn’t his daughter, but the news saddened him that this poor brave boy
died while saving his daughter. “What exactly happened?” Lance asked.
The Establishee frowned. “The Mater guards held the kids hostage in the gym. We forced our way in. The kids had attacked four of the guards and held them down. The other guard pulled a pin on a hand grenade but held the handle. He held your daughter as hostage with his other arm. Most of us backed away at the sight of a live grenade but not Sergeant Foster. He inched up closer. He got within about ten feet and then shot the guard multiple times. The guard died instantly and dropped the grenade. Sergeant Foster sprinted, grabbed your daughter, and darted away from the certain explosion. He only got about ten to fifteen yards away before the grenade exploded, though.”
The guy paused and his voice started quivering.
Lance feared that if his daughter survived it, she would have permanently injuries.
The guy continued. “So Sergeant Foster shielded your daughter from the brunt of the explosion, but he had to tackle her in the process.” The guy sniffled. “It mangled and killed him instantly.”
“Oh, no,” Lance said. Without asking, Lance pulled the sheet from Austin’s face. Austin’s face was purplish. His arms were misconfigured. He had cuts and scrapes through his chest and stomach.
“His back is unbearable to see,” the guy said. “The grenade tore him apart.”
Lance shook his head. “Those Maters must pay for what they’ve done to this fine boy and my daughter,” Lance said. He was afraid to ask the next question. “Do you know if my daughter is okay?” Lance held his breath.
“I think she is still alive, but you’ll have to check.”
Lance gaped and scurried to ICU number 3.
◆◆◆
Lance skidded to a stop outside ICU number 3. There was a female Establishee standing outside the door holding a rifle like she was ready to shoot.
“Who are you?” she barked.
Lance held up his arms. “I’m Lance Hampton. My daughter’s in there.”
The women studied Lance. “Oh, I’m sorry, President Hampton. I didn’t recognize you.”
“How’s she doing?”
The lady gulped. “I think she’s going to make it. She just got back from a cat scan, and she seemed to be conscious. She’s beaten up though.”
Lance didn’t like the phrase ‘I think she’s going to make it.’ He exhaled and walked into the room. His daughter lay still in the bed staring at the ceiling. Her eyes were open. Her face was almost unrecognizable. It was severally swollen and bruised. One of her eyes was closed shut.
She turned her head and studied Lance with her only working eye. Lance braced for the worse. He worried that she would have severe brain damage and not be able to function. He also worried that she might be paralyzed.
He touched her arm and gulped. “Honey, are you okay?”
She cried, “Daddy, oh the Mother, it was horrible. It’s so nice to see you. Daddy, it’s been horrible.”
Lance hugged her gingerly so as not to hurt her and wept uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry, honey, for putting you in this situation.”
“Don’t worry about it. Where’s mom? Is mom around?”
“No. I haven’t heard from mom. I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve tried to get a hold of her but can’t.”
“What about Austin? He … tackled me. He saved my life. I want to see my Austin.”
Lance swallowed.
“How is he?”
Lance hated to give her bad news. “Honey … Austin died saving you. I’m so sorry.”
“Noooo!!! Daddy! No, no, no! Daddy, he saved my life. I can’t live without him. This is horrible. Daddy, daddy, please!”
Chapter 42
Max Tillman, the adopted father of Zelda, was awakened from his morning nap by Ben, his designated Secret Service agent.
“Mister Vice-President,” the agent said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but Treasury Secretary Bruce Wade is here to see you, sir. He says it’s urgent.”
Max shivered and wiped a small amount of drool off his lips. He squinted his eyes trying to focus on the agent and to wake up from his groggy state.
“Send him in,” Max mumbled.
Max couldn’t imagine what this could be about. His daughter had played him well. She convinced him, through her secret power of persuasion, to give her the presidency. Of course, she made him vice-president and promised him that he would be involved in all major decisions, but that turned out to be a lie. After the initial days of the Conversion, she stopped calling him or inviting him to cabinet meetings. Her cabinet members ignored him as well.
The only good thing to come out of this was that he got to live at the Number One Observatory Circle, the home of all vice-presidents since the seventies, about two miles from the White House. He loved the secluded house. Woods surrounded the property and provided the privacy he craved. His life was lonely, though. His wife, Joanne, had died about five years previous. The only contact he had with people was with his Secret Service agents, who were all business and not great companions or conversationalists. He didn’t trust them and couldn’t confide in them.
He tried getting hold of his life-long security guard, Victor Cook, who was his main Secret Service agent while he was president, but Victor never got back to him. No respect, thought Max. Max had no friends and no real family other than Zelda and the grandkids, but they never visited him either or welcomed him into the White House with Zelda. Max could deal with having no friends. But what he dreaded the most was the lack of power. He had none, and he hated it.
Furthermore, he had no hopes of regaining his power, so he stopped caring and let his health deteriorate. He stopped exercising, took multiple naps each day, ate too much food, and gained a lot of weight. He was approaching his eighties, and it showed. He lost interest in politics and had no idea of what was going on in the United States or in the world. Zelda stopped sending him daily briefings and stopped communicating with him. She didn’t even wish him happy birthday on his birthdays.
He had created a monster. Zelda was over-utilizing her powers, which he believed would eventually cause a civil war and destroy what he had built up.
Bruce Wade rushed in with an entourage of Secret Service agents and other high-level politicians. He sat down next to Max on the couch holding a tablet.
“Mister Vice-President, have you heard what has happened in Texas this morning?” Wade asked.
“No, what?”
“Well, there is a major problem in Texas. The mother of all the Gods is missing. A resistance has cut off all our communications. I think you need to watch this video.”
Max shuddered and started watching the video on the tablet. The sight of Lance Hampton, the former governor of Texas, being in potential power horrified him. He hated him and considered him one of his archrivals. Then, he felt like someone punched him in the stomach at the announcement that Zelda was dead. He couldn’t believe it. Were they going to show her dead body? He wondered.
He gasped as he continued to watch the video. Hampton not only announced his adopted daughter’s death, but he criticized the Mater religion, said it was a fraud, showed a video of the Awakening, of which Max never seen, showed the presumptive real mother of Zelda place the baby by his car, and then said that Zelda was a whore!
“That motherfucker,” Max blurted. “How dare he call my daughter a whore.”
He kept watching. Hampton revealed that Zelda had multiple abortions, which he not only knew about but orchestrated. Max glanced subtly at Wade and the entourage to see their reaction—to see if they believed Hampton. Their poker faces revealed nothing.
Max finished watching the video and tried to stop tears from forming. “Oh the Gods, do you think she’s dead?” Max asked. “Where’s the body?”
Wade responded, “Well, they claim she’s dead. We don’t think so. I mean if she’s dead, don’t you think they would show the body?”
“If she’s not dead, do you think they’ve captured her?” Max asked.
“No, if
they had her captured, they would have probably shown her, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Max was liking the deference and respect they were giving him. It was a long time since he had any glimpse of power, and he was seizing his new opportunity. Max continued. “So she’s probably alive. What are we going to do?”
“That’s why we’re coming to you. You’re the vice-president, and the President is missing and incapacitated because she hasn’t called us or anything.” Wade paused. “So you are in charge.”
The people in the room stared at Max waiting for his instructions. He tried to conceal a smirk. Wade hadn’t given him the time of day since the Conversion, now he was pleading with Max to decide. Max decided that his goal now was to take back Texas and reclaim his throne as the President. He now hoped that his evil adopted daughter, Zelda, the mother of all the Gods, was dead. If not, he would see to it that someone would kill her. His daughter was the most unappreciative person he had ever met. He had identified her powers and guided her only for her to undermine him and treat him disrespectfully. Now was his time for payback. No one screwed over Max Tillman.
Max, being out of the loop for so long, thought it would be better to defer to Wade initially. Max asked, “What do you think we should do?”
“I think we should attack right away. Send troops in.”
Max sighed, thinking about how to proceed. He needed to brush off the cobwebs and appear presidential. “My poor daughter,” he said, the only thing he could think of saying at the moment. He regained his confidence and said, “Yes, certainly we’re going to attack. What exactly have they taken over?”
“Well, see, we don’t really know because we’re not out there in Texas. We have no idea of what they’ve taken over. However, we know they’ve taken over schools because we have video of that.”
