Day 86: July 3rd, Saturday
"President Howard will address the nation tomorrow at noon, along with his cabinet and the bipartisan support of both the House and the Senate, promising the greatest military campaign in American history to take back our home!" DJ Swayze declared on the radio over breakfast, though he sounded more like a child who was forced to eat broccoli during dinner. His hesitation and skepticism were palpable through the airwaves.
"Howard? Who the fuck is Howard?" Haskell squeaked.
"Didn't we just have that really old guy?" Yousef asked.
"The president's dead," Peter said, "I bet he's the replacement."
"I sure didn't vote for a Howard as our vice-president in the last election, nor have I ever heard of him. I follow politics sometimes," Alfie said.
Must be one of the generals, I assumed. Got to be. Or probably one of the senators, voted by the senate through some kind of emergency powers. The United States had never faced an enemy this devastating before, that it must have come as a shock to them how the country fell apart at the seams.
"He must be way down the chain-of-command then," Peter added, taking a sip of his coffee. "Anyway, all presidents are the same, just a bunch of blowhards and empty promises..."
"Really? I never imagine you to be an anarchist."
"Chaos is a ladder—or as the saying goes in that one show."
"But still...who the fuck is Howard?" Haskell asked again.
"Probably our soon-to-be-dead president," Peter answered. "Seems like it's been a revolving door lately, a free-for-all. Hell, maybe once the dust clears, I will become the new president." Peter sat back, amused.
Logan leaned close to my ear and whispered, "If that ever happens, I'm going to cross over the border to Canada and never look back."
I scoffed. "If that country still exists."
"Heh. If ours and theirs still exist."
"Guys, guys, listen. This is a good thing!" Alfie gestured for everyone to quiet down. "This means the government is still up and running. Suppose they're going to address the country. In that case, it means they're wholly confident there's still people to save, populated areas, refugee centers, hell, probably even several States that are still left standing without any cases."
"I don't know, man. I'm not gonna trust them," Miguel hissed. "They blew up New York, my home, and the people I know—knew. Who knows what they are up to. I agree with Logan that it's just going to be a bunch of empty promises and recycled bullshit, just like every decade." He let out a heavy sigh. "After everything that has happened to us, I don't think we can go back to what it used to be, maybe never again. Have you guys forgotten what had happened since then? People are killing each other! Roving gangs and vectors multiplying like flies! It'll overrun this country by the end of the year."
"Well, in our last report from Westpoint, the northeast is the heaviest hotspot in this pandemic, Miguel. It's probably isolated here, and the rest of the country hadn't been as devastated," Haskell said.
But Miguel refused to listen, shaking his head. "No offense, Haskell, but that was, what, three months ago? Who knows how far this virus has gone? We're too busy running and hunting for food just to survive."
"That's just you being pessimistic." Haskell threw his hands up.
"Is it? Look at it this way. Do you think choosing the Fourth of July as the day of the speech is not deliberate? Because it fucking is!" Miguel said. "This is all to string our patriotic spirit. Make it all flashy for the people who want to finish this. Like telling everyone to look at how competent our government is when it fucking isn't, then having an Independence Day speech to bolster the troops! Pick it up to their bootstraps, and yada-yada, and maybe they'll have A-List, celebrity appearances like Lady Gaga and Beyonce having a duet with the national anthem, or America the Beautiful, while the House of Congress and the White House gets overwhelmed by vectors behind the stage! Oh! Will there be fireworks too in the country's shape, and then light it up with the American Flag colors? Oh, please. Give me a break. That money can be used to rescuing and helping people than a televised lights show."
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Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)
TerrorWhen a deadly plague spreads like wildfire, 17-year-old Bren Watts is trapped at Ground Zero of a global pandemic. ---- Bren and his classmates are stranded in New York City, now filled with thousands of murderous infected and desperate survivors. F...
