The Second Shot: Chapter 1

"Stand your ground; do not fire unless fired upon, but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here."

-General John Parker

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Looking around at the packed stadium I wonder if this day has finally come. After years of recession we have finally elected a president promising to help us. The nippy January air penetrates my thin clothes and I pull my shawl tighter hoping that they would turn on some heat soon.

Reaching our nosebleed seats near the ceiling we sit down and I look to my parents, knowing that they have been waiting for this moment even longer than I. I grab Susie’s arm and put Max on my lap, trying to save some body-heat.

Down below, a stout man walks up to the podium and says in a distinctly nervous voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure to introduce the future fifty-third President of the United States of America, John Garfield Lincoln.”

Among the clapping I struggle to make out the figure down below. His salt-pepper-hair, a midnight black suit, he looks like a strong leader just from appearance; though he still shows the signs of wear and tear that even the powerful show, like his threadbare tie and the violet circles beneath his eyes. Now he is joined by another stately looking man, and the two shake hands before beginning. Beyond my ears the men have a private conversation.

“Sir, are you sure that your ready for this?” the attendant asked cautiously.

“If I was ever ready it is now, and now is time we start,” Mr. Lincoln retorted back snidely.

The attendant bit his lips and continued rapidly, “Sir I will give you this warning once: You need to leave her now. Your life is very much in danger.”

Raising his eyebrows in surprise he asks, "What ever do you mean?"

"What mean is that you should probably run," he states crudely before flashing the handle of a handgun before the incumbent. Continuing he inquired, "Now how do you want this do be done my friend?" Lifting the barrel to his head the so-to-be-murderer broke down into tears suddenly and confessed, "I sniff sniff really do not want to do this, but they made me do it... Good luck, Mr. President, and just so you know I really believed that you help us." BOOM!

From above I hear a gunshot and collective gasp from the crowd. Standing up to see, I jump on my folding chair trying to penetrate below with my eyes, yet am first greeted by a deep voice over the speakers.

"Ahem," the man clears his throat and begins, "My name is Quincey Bolton, I was formally this chief executive at the government OWLED program, and for those of you who did not already know I am now your leader." Bolton pauses at the unified huff and chatter, and I take the moment to look at my father. His expression as confused as mine and mother's though he bends down to pick up Max and silence his newfound whining. The man taking on a sinister look starts again seeming to have a fresh voice, "For the past decades, you have lived in terrible conditions of poverty and sadness. I have come here today, to end this misfortune of a country; and bring in back from the deeps of nothingness as a country stronger than ever. We will do anything to stop anyone standing in our way until we are the United World of America," his voice crescendoing with each word. I look to my father and he looks as pale as ghost and he seems to be about to say something but is cut off when the speaker advances, "Until we the once and still great United Fifty States are the sole controller of this world, and until that nation has been returned to its proper glory!"

He stops and for a moment the stadium is silent until suddenly a roar of applause and chanting exploded out of thin air. I look to my father and he turns back, looking quite worried. He bend he crouches to whisper into my ear, "Son, today I need you to be brave. This is not good, and no matter what this man or his friends say you must not trust them. They are liars. Climb a few rows to the top of the stadium, go down the old escape stairs, and go into the black car waiting for you guys around the corner. And no matter terrible sounds you will hear, you cannot come back. I love you, but now you must flee."