Page 2

“Jim? What is happening here? Where did that gunshot come from?” The President was disoriented from his dream. “Jim? Are you alright?”

Across from the room the big figure of Jim was hunched over. His body seemed to visibly shake from crying. Hell was surrounding them even here above all the danger. Jim was his rock and strength, if he broke down who would guide him? The silent sobs from Jim rattled the President more than the gunshot did.

The world around him was like a vortex. His mind was reeling from all the confusion. All at once his vision blurred, and blue flashes of light tried to throw him out of the world of the conscious. The plane was losing pressure. In a flash he felt three sets of hands pick him up and throw a parachute on him. At once he was being briefed on the situation by one of his personal agents.

“Sir, the Pilot cracked, he threatened your life. Once he drew his sidearm we had to take care of him. One of the shots ricocheted off the controls. Sir, the controls have been destroyed and a window has been cracked.”

The President felt the world crushing him. All at once he was ushered into the entryway of the plane. As he looked back into the room he came from he saw Jim looking back at him. His eyes were red and in his hand he held a small pistol. Before the word NO escaped his lips he saw the gun discharge, and the body of Jim slump over.

As tears blinded his eyes the President felt the rushing of frigid air envelope him. All at once he saw he was flying through the air. The cold felt like it was stealing the air from his lungs. Finally the President managed to open his eyes. The world below him was peaceful. Flanked around him were three of his agents. Their eyes glued on the Presidents actions.

As the wind whipped past them the air slowly grew warmer. From his shoulder the President heard the radio crackle to life. The words, along with what he was seeing below haunted him. They were just outside of Kansas City, Missouri. A far cry from Mount Rushmore. His heart felt like a lump in his throat.

As the ground grew closer the President pulled his cord. As if anticipating his move the agents did likewise. Down below the quartet could see the land streaming with people. Only after almost a week of this hell they all knew that these people were dead. Warm flesh was their only quest and the President did not feel like giving up his. Again the radio cracked to life.

“Sir, we are going to attempt a landing in one of the clear fields. Follow our lead. We will secure the area for you, and then we will take it from there.”

The President had to laugh. Even in all this shit they insisted upon protecting him. He saw the field in which they planned to land. It was not clear by any means but it had the least amount of activity. Close by there was a farm house. In front of the barn he could see an old Chevy pickup truck. It seemed to be the only vehicle. God he hoped it ran. It may just be their only hope.

The first of his men landed just beside the barn. It was about as far from a text book landing as one could get and survive. Al’s parachute had ended up wrapping around his legs. As he was struggling to get up an unseen zombie had emerged from the barn. The three men left in the air shouted into their radios, but it was too late.

The zombie was a large man in coveralls: probably the owner of the farm or one of his neighbors. Al was struggling to retrieve his firearm, but the chute was wrapped up almost to his stomach by the time the man reached him. Al’s screams could be heard as his neck was being torn out. Blood rushed down his body and stained his chute red. In a matter of mere seconds his body had stopped twitching.

One of the remaining agents pulled his sidearm. A clean shot through the head of the ghoul brought back some of the President’s confidence. His agents were the best shots in all the country and they were dedicated to protecting him. He just hoped that none of them would befall the same fate as Al.

“Mr. President. We need to get you down as soon as possible.” The President had problems knowing which one spoke the words that echoed in his ear. Only when another agent dove towards the ground did he know which one spoke. He closed his eyes tight and hoped that the same horror would not befall his man.

The agent made is safely to the ground and the President was jerked away from his thoughts by the radio crackling in his ear again. The agent that had just landed talked in the next agent.

[ Continue to page 3 ]