Rick idly watched the large cockroach moving through the rubble of the old Smithonian Museum. He once again was a bit surprised at the relatively untouched former capitol of the United States. There was, of course, some visible effects of the battles. Cracks ran up and down and across a number of the buildings and monuments, many windows and doorways blown inward, the result of the tactical concussion missiles let loose from the destroyers berthed down at the Norfolk Naval Docks. But, all in all, a remarkable number of the structures in the tourist areas were still standing. The other parts of the city were not as fortunate.
In the aftermath of the civilian rebellion, coupled with the State Police and military reserve units, most of the greater DC district had been all but obliterated. This was back in 2034 when the Chinese and North Koreans landed in major ports of the northern portion of the Alaskan coast on down through Vancouver and Seattle. They were finally stopped just south of Portland.
"Hey Rick, you gonna sit there all day or you gonna get your ass in gear and set up your perimeter?" Sgt. Rick Josephs waved and said, "Sorry guys. Just wondering again just how in hell we got to this point in this part of the country." Grabbing his old AR-15, he barked, "Okay you slobs. Our orders are to set up a base in the Lincoln Monument and the roads around it. Now move it!" It wasn't going to be easy with so few men, just a dozen or so. He had heard a lot of chatter as to the total of people left alive who survived the biological attacks, commonly called The Mist Wars. Estimates ran from maybe twenty million worldwide to less than five million. But, they were here, and it was now. Time to worry about the world after securing Washington DC.............
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The stench of rotting bodies and massive piles of garbage was mercifully less today, thanks to a strong easterly wind that blew the smell out to sea. One of the few remaining buildings that was over thirty stories was now home to a motley gathering of about 120 people. What was fortunate about this particular building is that there had been a large market on the sixth floor as well as a restaurant on the floor above. No one remembered much about the building except that the lettering on the outer wall of it spelled out the words "Trump Tower."
"Who or what the fuck was Trump?" Sam wiped a dirty hand across his equally dirty face and took another bite of his sandwich. He swallowed and asked, "And what the fuck was this sandwich made of? Tastes awful."
"Shut up and eat it. There's a whole lotta people out there 'aint got nuthin' to eat but rats and bugs." Betty Jones was in a bit better shape than Sam. She had found the stores in the Tower that had new clothing and all the stuff women thought of as important. "Ya know, Sam, there's a couple of stores what has some new clothes for you too. Get rid of them rags and get some warm shit. Winter be here in a few months and this city 'aint no place to be when winter sets in, I'm here to tell ya."
Sam grunted and got up to look out one of the few remaining glassed-in windows on this floor. Destruction and misery as far as he could see, In any direction, most buildings were nothing more than piles of rubble, the once wide streets littered withthe dead and dying. He saw the remnants of the Brooklyn Bridge, noting the almost complete abscence of the Williamsburg Bridge. Brooklyn and the other boros were rumored to be all but desolate.
A door banged open and three men ran in, pistols and swords at the ready. They were part of the security force that had seen to it that no one from street level could get up past the second floor. "Okay people! We're going to organize the upper floors so as to ensure our survival. We have food and other necessities for about sixty people for many months if we ration it out correctly. We found a stash of weapons in an armory on the tenth floor and there is enough ammo to hold off any of the criminals out there for a good long while. All access to the floors below the third has been eliminated. No one who is here above the third floor will be able to get out of this building. Period. I need all able-bodied men and women to be trained and armed as a security force. Most will be rotated in and out of the third floor where the barricades have been erected."
"So we're here for the duration? What if we want to leave?"
Thlead guard asked, "Leave? Leave to go where? You want to tak your chances with the thieves, rapists, bandits and gangs out there, or do you want to live in relative safety and security here in this building? There are about twenty-five floors above us that at present we know nothing about except that they are individual apartments built for the formerly wealthy persons of this formerly wealthy nation. Your service to this place will earn you one of them if you so choose."
"And who the fuck put you in charge?" Sam tried to stare down this big man, with no effect.
"I'm Frank Reagan, and this pistol put me in charge. It was made in Missouri by a guy named Browning. I suspect there's more of 'em in the armory on one of the upper floors. Now....are you in, or are you out?"
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The rugged mountain areas of West Virginia had been almost unscathed by "The Troubles" of the rest of the country. The people who lived back up in these mountains knew how to survive just about anything. They weren't properly educated, but you can't teach city-folk how to live off the land as these people did.
"Hey Clem, how many you reckon we got left on this here mountain-top."
"Not many, Jack. Reckon pert near a hunnert or so. Spread out across around twenty miles. Good thing is that whatever that cloud of shit what killed the flat-landers by the millions didn't bother the animals at all. And I don't know how many more of us there might be in the Blue Ridge."
Jack said, "You know, Clem, there's a bunch of them Army Reservists 'bout three miles down the side of this mountain. Heard automatic gunfire day before yesterday."
"Yep, sure would be nice to have them boys up here. Regular trained I heard tell. And they had some kinda base in a cave area what has modern amenities."
"What's amenities, Clem? I don't know none of them fancy words."
Clem grinned. "It means good stuff, Jack. Maybe help us survive til we know just what in hell happened all them years ago."
Jack nodded. "Yep, reckon so."
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A soft early Fall breeze blew through the palm trees and orange groves around the outskirts of Ocala. Aside from the mass graves mounded-up with logs and rocks, nothing much was different from fifty years ago.
"Master, tell us again about the USA in the early part of the century. How did all this destruction and death happen?" It was a small class, just twelve youngsters aged twelve to sixteen.
The Master, and older man named Smitty, smiled. "Ah, an inquisitive child. Okay, here it is in a nutshell. Listen closely, because we are going to move on with our lessons in the coming days."
He began. "Back in the early part of the century, a series of what were called globalists started to infiltrate the highest levels of world government, including our own nation. They were interested in building what thet were calling The New World Order that would replace the supposed inequality within the various countries of the world. They wanted to bring the poor, under-developed countries uo to a higher level of social and financial security, but at the expense of the richer and highly-developed nations, such as America and Europe. The end effect, however, was to be more of a evening-out of society rather than equality. Essentially, it was to be a Marxist world-view where all are equal, at least on the surface. There was a books written many years ago about a farm that had been taken over by the animals who felt they were victims of the farmer. They wanted equality, because they felt they were entitled to it. Long story short, the animals succeeded in replacing the farmer and creating a new governing system run by the animals themselves."
"Master, I don't understand. How can animals know how to better treat themselves?'
Smitty chuckled. "Well, it's just a story, but one with a point. The point being is that late in 2029, the animals made their move and took over governing as they saw fit. When animals sit in place of authority, only disaster can prevail. An old political proverb states "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely". So, in the book, a small group of animals, the pigs, became the rulers of the Farm, and slowly, over time, they changed their writings from "All Are Equal" to "All Are Equal, but Some are more Equal than Others." This is what happened to the USA. Those who could not rule properly, did not rule properly. And the result was the near-total eradication of the population of the country. Some say upwards of 97% of the population of our nation, and quite possibly the world, occured. We don't know the entire story because there are so few people left who have any complete idea of what happened world-wide. Some suggest that fewer than seven million people survived the biological onslaught of plagues and pandemics that were loosed upon the Earth."
"But, Master, won't we be able to build it back up?"
Smitty hung his head. "Time will tell, my child. Only time will tell."
