The Whistleblowing Couriers

CHAPTER FOUR - "DULCE ET DECORUM EST"

"Fuck, I need a drink." From the branches, Noor reemerged into view as she sat down heavily next to Yahola.

Yahola mournfully quipped, "Well, we'll have to cross the border for that."

"Canada or Mexico?"

"Mexico – I don't need the fucking RCMP using their Five Eyes fuck buddy agreement to fuck us over."

Noor smiled with a bit of pride. "Good man." She then fell silent.

"Do you need a drink because of the last interview or because of the cumulative sum of all those interviews?" Yahola gazed up at where the camera and bag were hidden, arching his back to more comfortably rest against the trunk.

Noor pondered the question. "I don't know. The last one – it really affected me because of..." She stopped. Nearby, numerous buzzes were briefly heard, like a shriek, and then silence pervaded the camp once more. Another round of angry buzzes was soon heard.

Yahola saw everyone's heads turn to the command tent. One of the bird nest sentries descended down from the post and sprinted to the tent. The Ranger then ran back, dexterously climbing up the towering red structure. She exchanged words with the SEAL, and then both women grabbed their bullhorns and bellowed, "Ludington! Ludington! Ludington!"

The entire camp began to move into a mass akin to that of the funeral. Yahola saw thirteen people exit from the command tent, moving to different tents, while Clara dashed to the red-tagged and yellow-tagged tents. Samuel followed, sprinting behind her after efficiently checking his prosthesis for looseness. No one talked. All conversations had ceased. Every half minute, another round of buzzing could be heard.

Yahola looked at Noor, about to ask a question, but Noor was already answering him as she again grabbed her equipment. "The Home Guard is moving in."

"When?"

"Follow me. Start recording as soon as we reach the command tent." Noor placed the camera in Yahola's hands, before looking at him directly. "Most importantly, follow my actions exactly. Each and every one of those cellphones can record our faces and any sounds we make. I need you to record at least a few of the screens. Ok?"

Yahola nodded.

The two hurried towards the command tent at an angle. Before reaching the tent, Noor dropped to her stomach and crawled inside. Yahola repeated her actions and soon both of them were lying motionless inside the tent.

Noor motioned for Yahola to start recording and lift up the camera. Both viewed the screen, which soon revealed a large picnic table that had a massive sea of cellphones. The camera briefly rotated around the tent. On the walls were five borough maps, completely filled with red pins aside from a single green pin in Lower Manhattan. A sixth map was rolled up on the ground.

Yahola kept the camera at the edge of the table, so that the cellphone screens would not catch a glimpse of any identifying skin. The camera returned to the cellphones, all of which were continually pulsating with a white light every 30 seconds. The same message was being texted every half minute.

"Subscriber, you are in violation of the state of emergency. Please text one to surrender to the United States Home Guard. Failure to respond will result in your citizenship immediately being revoked and being classified as an enemy combatant."

As Yahola steadily moved the screen across the cameras, there was suddenly the sound of consuming fire nearby. Agonizing screams soon followed, startling Yahola, who nearly dropped the precious instrument. Noor's hand rapidly moved to steady Yahola's wrist, as she looked at him reassuringly. He dipped his chin in a gesture of thanks, as the shouts slowly were replaced with the popping sounds of flames and the vomit-inducing stench of burning human flesh.