Burning Skies (Book 1): The Fall by Ford Devon C

Author:Ford, Devon C. [Ford, Devon C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Dystopian
Publisher: Vulpine Press
Published: 2018-02-23T05:00:00+00:00

AS USELESS AS THE ‘G’ IN LASAGNE

Friday 9:30 p.m. – Washington, D.C.

Major Taylor and his team had secured the White House along with all the senior members of staff. The president was livid, threatening each and every man with the death penalty for treason. Taylor was worried that he would start to have a negative effect on the moral of his troops, so he isolated him under the guard of two if his most trusted men.

Taylor acted confidently, but he did not feel at all confident. The longer their secret siege went on, the higher the risks of failure were. By now, events in New York were on schedule, and already the impact on the world financial market was huge. They were crippling their own country, albeit temporarily, but they did what they did for the greater good and the long-term prosperity of their beloved United States of America.

“Major, this is Johnson. Over,” came the squelch from his earpiece on their closed squad-net radio.

“Go,” came the terse response.

“Sir, the president would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience,” Johnson, an implacable if somewhat unthinking sergeant under his command, told him. It was one of the reasons he chose Johnson; he was efficient and ruthless, but lacked that extra layer of consciousness which would ever make the man question an order.

“On my way. Out,” replied Taylor. His intention was not to upset or injure the president in any way, and his orders were specific; the president was to be treated with the respect due his office. They needed him to legitimize their coup and to be the face of the new direction their country was heading in, whether he liked it or not. Demonstrating that they could reduce one of the biggest cities in on the continent, in the world in fact, to chaos, was a sharp axe to hold over a man’s neck.

Taylor stalked into the luxurious suite of rooms which had been turned into an isolation cell, nodded to Johnson and the other soldier, dismissing them.

“Sir,” he said, saluting, “you wanted to see me?” The man in front of him, red-faced as though the anger he was holding in would not stay shuttered up for long, regarded him.

“Taylor,” he said acidly, not so much remembering the man as reading his name from the uniform shirt, “just how long do you think this little charade will go on?” he asked him, taking the same approach as when they had first spoken.

“Sir, we need to keep you safe until morning. Then you can talk to my commanding officer—” Taylor said before being savagely cut off.

“I am your goddamned commanding officer, you son of a bitch,” the president snarled at him through bared teeth. “You’ve heard the term ‘Commander in Chief,’ have you not?”

“Yes, sir, I have,” Taylor said, still stood to attention and showing the respect the man’s position demanded, even if he had no respect for the man himself. He said nothing more, but turned and left the room offering another nod to the soldiers outside the door.

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