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Chapter 5: Riots Consume USA
SHADOWS AND LIGHT (An End Times Preview)
A novel in the making on Before It’s News
Dear readers,
Chapter 5
11/24 8:22 AM
Mitch groped his way through the blackness that now filled the hotel hall like black pitch. A flash. The spear of a pen light. Mr. Migen’s deadened, iron eyes.
Without a word, Mitch and Gary half stumbled through the hall, following Migen’s spear of illumination to the elevator. More shattered glass and a scream. Much closer. The riot had reached this floor.
With a stunned look, Mitch watched the elevator doors slide open as Migen pressed the button. Hadn’t all the electricity been cut?
“We arranged to ensure power to this elevator was not tampered with,” Migen said as he stepped into the elevator. He almost sounded bored with his explanation.
Gary pulled Mitch in just as the doors shut behind them. Red emergency lights stained the three men in a sickly-scarlet glow.
“What do you mean arranged? You telling me you engineered this . . . this riot?” Mitch shouted although he hadn’t meant to. Gary placed a warning hand on his arm. Mitch angrily shook Gary off and fixed his eyes at the mystery man. Mitch didn’t care anymore. He wanted answers. Now.
Migen clicked off his pen light and slipped it into his satin suit pocket. “Mitch, there are certain realities you are going to have to accept if you’re expected to survive the coming weeks and months and years. One of those realities is that everything — all of reality — is engineered.”
“Cut the bullshit–” Mitch was interrupted by the elevator doors opening. A sharp pre-winter wind cut into his face.
Migen led the two men onto the large roof of the grand hotel. The thunderous beat of chopper wings filled the air. A sleek black AH-64 Apache helicopter hovered over the building, pivoting down toward the roof’s landing pad.
Why an attack helicopter? Seemed like with every step Mitch followed this mystery man, the further into the bizarre fun-house of confusion he plunged.
As they reached the helicopter, the roar of the rotating blades not quite deafening the sound of fire bombs exploding throughout downtown beneath them, Mitch wondered just how bad the riot raged.
Migen moved aside, urging the two journalists onto the helicopter. Mitch hesitated. Confusion, rage and his natural curiosity battled inside him. He instinctively knew Migen was an enemy — maybe the worst type of person he had ever had the misfortune of meeting — but right now this helicopter was the only sure way of evading the fire storm below.
Mitch glared at Migen, as if simply by using his stare he was telling the mystery man that he wouldn’t be controlled or bought. Migen’s iron eyes seemed to smile back — a wicked smile of smug delight. Delight and utter coldness.
As Mitch climbed into the attack helicopter, he shuddered. The look from Migen frightened him more than anything that had ever frightened him in his entire life.
* * *
11/24 7:15 PM – Denver Capitol Building
The police blockades surrounding the Denver Capitol, coupled with Secret Service agents, FBI, and various Swat Teams, had turned the domed heart of Denver into a virtual fortress. Red and blue emergency lights, bristling guns, the plexiglass array of riot shields all gave Mitch the distinct feeling he had stepped into a war zone.
The riots that had devastated much of downtown Denver had not reached the capitol building, but the newly relocated Federal Government was taking no chances. No one could even attend the Grand Gala unless they had multiple security clearances.
A limousine pulled up to a nearby cross street. Migen waited inside. Mitch and Gary stared at the limo with dread. Earlier that day, once he and his camera man had been allowed to leave the helicopter and find safer quarters in a Denver suburb, Mitch had sworn he would never cross paths with Migen again unless he absolutely had no choice. Unfortunately, with the new security threats caused by the massive downtown riots, Mitch had no way of attending the Grand Gala without Migen’s aid. Most of the national press had been refused access by the now-Republican led government. After arguing with his boss on the phone a few hours ago, it became apparent only Migen would have the resources to get him into the Grand Gala.
Mitch avoided looking into Migen’s eyes as he and Gary climbed into the limousine. The mystery man sat in a plush chair facing the two journalists. A backlit bar, fitted with a steel tub of ice, lined one side of the limo. Migen grabbed two glasses, scooped them full with a chink-chink and clatter of ice, and then poured champagne from an expensive bottle.
He handed the two glasses to Mitch and Gary. Mitch, without thinking, took the drink. He needed alcohol anyway. Just to calm his beating heart.
Migen poured his own glass, sipped deeply and sighed.
Mitch had expected the mystery man to begin telling them more details about the expected surprise awaiting them at the Grand Gala, but he seemed content to pass the time in silence, sipping from his champagne, gazing at the two men before him with those dead, expressionless eyes.
Mitch turned his attention to the window. Already their limousine had passed through the barricades of national guard tanks and police vehicles that surrounded the capitol building. The grim faces on the various agencies that had gathered here told Mitch that they expected worse horrors to unfold than had already rocked the nation.
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard that Los Angeles and New York City are also under curfew. Race riots have torn apart much of those cities over the past several hours.” Migen whispered between sips.
“You almost sound happy,” Mitch shot back. He was surprised at the bitterness in his voice. Migen seemed to treat everything as a game.
The mystery man’s left eyebrow raised and he feigned shock. “Now, Mr. Anders, why would you say a thing like that?”
Mitch knew the man was mocking him. “Why would you manufacture race riots? What would you have to gain? Discredit the incoming administration?”
“You’ve got to look much deeper than bland politics,” Migen sighed, as if he were explaining why the earth was not, indeed, flat. “I honestly expected more from you, Mitch. I’ve been a huge fan of your stories for decades. And then when you became a media correspondent, not just a journalist, I watched with fascination as your career took off. You possess a quality most in your field lack — a deep sense of reality that guides your instincts. It’s almost disappointing hearing you flounder for the truth like this.”
Mitch knew Migen was controlling the conversation, but he didn’t care. “Who are you? What’s going on? Either you give Gary and me answers, or we refuse to cover this Gala. We don’t work for you.”
Migen’s smiling eyes seemed to twinkle with sinister menace. “Oh, my, you think you have leverage in this situation, do you?”
Mitch bit his lip and turned back toward the window. He could feel Gary shaking his head in warning next to him. No way Mitch could accept that Migen somehow had manipulated events to take out a President and Vice President, while orchestrating riots. The only possible explanation was that this mystery man was bluffing, and pretended to wield more power than he actually possessed.
But as the limousine rolled right to the large stone cut steps leading up to the entrance of the domed capitol, Mitch knew he was only lying to himself. Migen not only seemed to wield incredible influence, but the smug mockery that informed his every facial expression could only signify colossal power. Or, at the very least, the mystery man worked for those who bore colossal power.
“Tonight you will watch President Boehner nominate Rand Paul as his Vice President. You will also witness the announcement of a Constitutional Convention that will, by Boehner’s account, totally transform this nation.”
“The Tea Parties are taking over the nation?” Mitch asked in dubious bewilderment.
Migen laughed — a cold, hard laugh that lacked any mirth. “Not by a long shot, Mr. Anders. But this is just the sort of announcement to drive the race-riots into an even more intense fevered pitch. And that, right now, is the number one goal.”
“Who are you?” Mitch asked again.
Migen sighed, opening the limousine door. “Just a person hoping for a better tomorrow.”
The sarcasm caused Mitch to exchange a worried look with Gary.
“Out of the limo, gentleman. You have the story of your careers to cover.”
Mitch wanted to bolt, to run, to hide, to shut his eyes against this living horror, but with inexorable weight that he could not resist, the tide of events pulled him forward, an onward rush of grim speculation and dark deeds, sucking him into the vortex of a maelstrom that seemed to be swallowing the nation.
God help us all, Mitch thought to himself as he reluctantly emerged from the limo. God help us all.
Shadows And Light: Read Chapter >> 6
I am no expert on aircraft, but aren’t Apache helicopters the narrow two man battle choppers with a pilot in front and co-pilot behind? If that is right, then how could these additional people board one when it landed on the roof?
Migen had the resources to outfit this attack helicopter with a deluxe cabin, specially made.