Civil War 2

“The United States is one of our top priorities. It is a disgusting country, and we must take it out for the betterment of our ideals.” The man spoke. He drummed his fingers on the surface of the long oak table. Light filtered through the glass illuminating the man’s grim face. To his right was a pert woman of 39 with a dark complexion, and an authoritative posture. Her marine-blue eyes were fixated on the man who was talking. She was Shauna Toll, newly elected President of the United States.

The man continued, now facing Shauna. “Now that we’ve put you into the presidency, it’s time you knew the plan you will carry out.”

Shauna mulled the plan over in her head. Civil War 2, huh? I wonder…

There was a sharp knock on her office door.

“Come in,” Shauna commanded, with authority. A man in a black silk suit stepped through the doorway carrying a rectangular box in his hands.

“I have a package for you, Madame President. Where shall I leave it?” he asked.

“Bring it here, John. I’ll open it later.”

The man stepped over to her desk and laid the rectangular box on a clear spot on Shauna’s desk. He bowed, and promptly left, shutting the door behind him. Shana leaned over the box, and saw the printing on the top. Le Prieure de Sion, it read.

Curiously, she opened the flaps, and took out all of the plastic wrapping. A bomb? She dared not touch it. It could be some sick person’s assassination plot. Attached to the bottom of the package was a note. She grabbed it and revealed a phone number.

Shauna reached for her phone, and dialed the number. Listening to the ringer go off, she pondered how many people the bomb could take out.

“Ah hello, Mrs. Toll. How are you doing this fine day?”

“I am doing well sir. You?”

“Fine, thank you. I presume you’ve gotten my package?”

“Yes I have,”

“Good. Here are some instructions I have for you regarding that package. I suppose that you realize it is a bomb,”

“Yes, now what the--”

“Very good. I need you to kick off this war for us. Within a week, choose a state, preferably a Democratic one, and notify us. Come up with an excuse, so there is no suspicion. You will be compensated, with $10,000,000 now, and $5,000,000 after the job is done, and you and your husband will have a safe ride with us while the war is at its peak,”

Oh my god, a whole ten million!

“Of course sir,”

“Ah, and Mrs. Toll?”

“Yes sir?”

“If you do not comply, we will have to get rid of you. We have other ways to start this war, but we don’t want to have to do that, do we?”

“No, of course not.” Shauna replied, straining to keep a strong tone in her voice. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of death, and beads of sweat dotted themselves across her face.

Shauna promptly hung up and sighed. Great. This’ll work nicely. I’ll get the money now, and I’ll formulate a plan...

Another person opened the door. It was her husband, Lindon. He was a tall man, with a strong jaw line. Normally, he looked ready to fight a lion, but now, creases of worry were apparent on his brow.

“Who was that, Honey?” he asked

“Le Prieure de Sion.” Shauna responded, calm now as a lake.

“You can’t be serious about this war, Shauna! You can’t let it happen!”

“Lindon, if I don’t, they’ll kill me and you and start the war anyways. Besides, I’ll get- I mean, we’ll get ten million dollars!”

“Don’t do it. You’ll forsake your humanity, your religion, and your country’s trust, all for this?

“I don’t have another choice, so back out of it!” She retorted, annoyed.

The reporter spoke into the microphone, reading the words posted for her behind the camera. “Three people were just killed on Saturday. Apparently, there was a fight just outside a Wal-Mart, between four Democrats, and three Republicans. They were arguing over the recently started war in Iran. Although we do not have further information…”

Shauna nodded from the background, and smirked to herself. If all goes according to plan, I’ll bomb L.A. in two days! I’ll get my ten million, my family and I will be safe, and there’ll be less disgusting people on this beautiful planet.

But Lindon’s last words still echoed in her mind: You’re making a big mistake.

The alarm clock went off in her room. Today’s the day, but something’s different. It’s almost as if my body won’t cooperate! Move, stupid body! Gotta set this bomb off today, and I won’t be late. Ow, it feels like my head’s split into two, and the two sides are screaming at each other! I gotta listen to this. I know what one side’s saying, but what about the other side….Don’t….do….it. Don’t do it? Why? Everything’s planned….just don’t go through with this….

“Shauna, where is this bomb going to be set off?”

Shauna turned to face the man responsible for sending her the bomb, and a wave of panic spread through her like quicksilver. Ignoring it, she spoke defiantly, “Sir, I will not go through with this. I will not stand by and watch my country go down!”

“It’s too late. You’ve already riled up the masses, and, there’s no way to turn back now. I’ll see you in hell.” The man retorted, with a smug grin on his face.

“As will I. Mr. Graykan you are a son of a bitch!”

His lip curled up on itself, with his face contorted in rage. Shauna’s spine froze up at the sight, if only for a second. She spat on his shoe, and left.

Shauna paced back and forth in her office. I know that they’ll kill me, but what am I to do? I need to relax, that’s all. She flipped on the T.V. right in the middle of a news story.

“We have secured the bomb and have it locked up in a safe, away from her reach.” What the? “Congress is considering her impeachment at this time. Thank you for listening and--” Shauna flipped off the T.V., her mind racing. What the hell was that? Impeachment?

The sounds of the masses filled Shauna’s ears like the sound of an airplane. She knew what it was. They were shouting murderous speeches of hate towards their president who had betrayed them, and was still allowed to live in Washington D.C.

“Honey, let’s go. They will still set off the bomb, and we know it.” Lindon was already opening the trapdoor. “Call the Secret Service to lock the doors, and I’ll prepare the shelter downstairs. It’ll be somewhere to get away from the masses!”

Shauna ran around the White House, ran to her desk and jammed her finger on a button. Speaking into a microphone with a shaky voice, she ordered the Service to secure all entrances to the building, and to make sure that all the windows would be impenetrable. She then ran after her husband down some wooden stairs, and into the enveloping darkness.

Shauna eyes fluttered open. As her nose caught the damp, stale air, she realized she was in the bomb shelter below the White House. She groggily got to her feet and ascended a set of old, mildewed steps where she heaved open the trapdoor. Smoke and the smell of burned flesh filled her lungs, and she gagged. Coughing, she stumbled through the debris of what used to be the White House and…Oh my God, they didn’t set it off in L.A. They bombed Washington D.C.! Seeing carcasses, bloodied and burned, Shauna stepped over a pile of rubble that used to be a wall. There were charred shells of humans everywhere lying on the blackened ground that used to be grass, in air that used to be clean, but now was filled with gas and smog. There was a woman still clinging her child to her breast. It was all futile. No one could have possibly survived such a disaster. Shauna looked around at the devastation, and was distraught; until she saw two skeletons ride by on a tandem bike. They saw her and waved, with skeletal smiles spread across their jaws. There was a loud creak, hollow and dark as Death himself, but Shauna had no time to react, even though every single part of her body stood poised for an ambush. The mass of stone and wood from the Presidential Building fell onto her. Shauna felt the life ebbing away, as her bones collapsed, and the blood rose into her throat. She closed her eyes, and turned herself away from life. God, I’ll see you soon…But I have one last request. Please watch over my husband, wherever he may be.

Here's my group's Zine:

http://students.hthma.hightechhigh.org/~jmillet/Zine.pdf