As I’m growing closer to finishing the sequel to Son of the World, I thought to myself, “It’s time to give everyone an idea of the tone for this novel.” So without further ado, I give you, New Gods’ first chapter.
Fall into Chaos
The riots started after the news on Friday morning. Mobs of angry Americans massacred each other in a torrent of savagery. Other groups looted and destroyed homes and businesses. The media fueled the bloodshed for ratings. The onslaught had climaxed at a rate that the police and National Guard could not control. Emergency services ceased to function. Hospitals were on lockdown.
Mindless violence endured for days and the news prolonged the horror for the masses. No one stopped to question why everything turned for the worse. It merely fit their purpose. The brainwashing of decades of hand-crafted stories cultivated the darkness that settled over the country. Everyone feared the possibility of zombies but didn’t realize they had become the object of their own fear.
A suburban family was asleep when the first fires broke out in the cities. Living in their bubble they didn’t pay much attention. Not like anyone ever expected Hell to consume their neighborhoods. They had no clue what was happening around the country at that time. The tension erupted in terrifying fashion. The world was on fire around them.
At breakfast, there were calls of canceled school and no work. The news spoke of riots making different areas unsafe. All groups involved were being blamed by each other increasing the fury. It was best to stay home until further notice. The National Guard had been activated to help fix the problem. The local police had been told to keep the roads clear. The military was ordered to eliminate those who were responsible for the uprising.
They first started hearing the explosions not long after the first trucks of the Guard drove by their home. That drew their attention the current reality, but why hadn’t anyone been told to evacuate? Then the father noticed SWAT members began traveling the street and forcing their neighbors back into houses. The cops were pointing guns in people’s faces.
The kids were getting nervous, so mom took them upstairs. Dad began to lock the doors and windows. He closed the curtains then went to load the handgun he kept. He took a chance of going into the back yard. Black smoke rose in the distance. Sirens and explosions grew louder. Air Force jets flew toward the city and more explosions followed.
He ran back into the house, to his family.
They sat in the large closet upstairs holding each other as the noise grew louder and the ground shook beneath them. The windows imploded and a door burst open downstairs. Shouts filled the house.
The people who came in to check on them heard four loud pops and ran to find the source. The family was in the large closet holding each other. A puddle of blood grew under them. The splatter on the walls caused a few to vomit as smoke rolled from the gun.
Someone began to scream as everything went white. No one heard the end of that scream as the neighborhood disappeared. The entire area faded to memory. A tattered flag waved with the wind and refused to relinquish its last grip on the pole.
The media managed to capture all of the footage. The newscast played their parts to perfection. They reflected the necessary emotions at the right moment to instill the same feelings in their audience. The survivors with power stared at their television screens. The drama fed the vicarious desires for real horror. It was something to numb the dissatisfaction of their lives.
Thoughtless zombies devoured the destruction they watched. They judged the groups behind all of the action. Some fully supported the motives while others issued verbal condemnations with empty words. The ratings for the news channels were the highest in history.
A “Breaking News” bulletin interrupted the current carnage to discuss the horrific deaths and rapes of a famous actor and his family. Now it’s back to the military story. Two more medium sized cities had been leveled by the Air Force. Ground troops continued the use of deadly force on anyone who showed resistance.
Another channel blamed the government for the excessive force with denial of the damage done around the country. The news anchor claimed that the President had created these false events as an excuse for him to take over the country. It was a coup d’état to establish his dictatorship.
The White House issued a statement. The President had no control over the circumstances causing the crisis, but everyone, from the federal government to local authorities, was working in a joint effort to restore calm. It was a sad day in American histor…
The television went black. Michael surfed through the channels; even the local stations were out of order. He passed through them a second time without any change or messages. He sighed and pressed the off button. The remote was dropped on the coffee table.
Sam floated into the room. He leaned against the wall with his eyes locked on the sunlit window. His lack of patience was evident, but he wanted his son awake.
Michael looked over his shoulder, “The television has stopped working, every channel. I wonder how much longer until everyone starts losing power.”
“Not everyone. We don’t operate on their electric grid. They could have already lost power.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Same. I’m going back in to see him soon. She hasn’t left his side. I’m glad he has someone like that.”
“She has the same name as his mom.”
“Do not bring up such things, Michael. What do you really want to know?”
“Has there been any other news?”
“I have not received much. We are to stay in place until their plan becomes evident. We are to wait and make sure that Sullivan is awake and ready. If that changes, you shall be the first to know.”
“Very well. How much longer until Gabe arrives?”
“He’ll be here in another week. He should have more answers for you then.”
His shadow slipped back across the room. Michael watched him turn down the hall toward Sullivan’s room. He sighed again. He hoped the boy recovered soon.
Sam peeked through the glass in the door. His son lay in the bed, unconscious. Jessica remained at his side. She held his hand. She glanced up to see Sam and waved him to come inside. He nodded and with a large breath, he entered.
He took his usual spot against the wall. He leaned with his back against it and watched Sullivan breathe. He thought about how much Raphael had attempted to heal him. Azrael made him stop and stated it wasn’t a physical illness.
“I thought his fingers flinched earlier but I realized it was my own hand moving. I was half asleep.”
Sam turned his attention to Jessica, “I hate waiting too. I have faith he will wake up soon. You should get some rest.”
Jessica shook her head, “I’ll be alright. I’m staying right here.”
“Very well then, I shall stay with you. I apologize I’m not the best of company.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you found each other again. The story is heartbreaking and the things that happened to Sullivan since he was taken from you. It makes me sad.”
“No sadness now, please, you must stay strong for his sake. We all must.”
Jessica turned back to Sullivan. Sam watched her gently squeeze his hand. He smiled despite himself. The girl was strong. She was stronger than even she knew. He directed his attention toward the window. He thought of all the current reports. They had been told to wait until the full plan had been exposed. It was undeniable what they were doing.
Sam heard Jessica gasp. His head swung back to the bed and his heart leaped. Sullivan was blinking with his eyes on Jessica. Sam came to his other side and sat. Sullivan looked at him. The question was in his glare.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”