Paradise Burning (The Virtagwalla Series Book 2) (19 page)

38

              In a panicked voice the colonel yelled, “Oh shit!” Almost instantly the formation of the Guardsmen broke, and the sound of gunfire filled the air. Laurels began bellowing at the Colonel who yelled, “Someone get me a medic, one of our men have been shot!”

As if all at once the crowd began to scatter and the protestors dashed in panic, attempting to escape. The helicopters began blasting their megaphones for people to remain calm, but that served of little purpose. The National Guardsmen began marching into the crowd of protestors, and the rioters threw their torches and stones in their direction. More gunfire could be heard, and the General directed the Guardsmen to stun the rowdy protestors and avoid killing them. The struggle persisted, and it looked from the helicopters that the protest had turned into an uncontrollable herd. Pandemonium was unfolding on the ground, and Ray watched in horror as people, the Virtagwallan people, darted and frantically moved about the crowd. No one in the Situation Room spoke, or even breathed as they watched the dismay unfolding on the streets of Ponchertrain.

Ray was the first one to speak, “May our children forgive of us.”

The little red phone began to ring, and Laurels answered it. Saying very little, he put his hand over the receiver, “Sir, the riot in Villaggio has also become volatile, however it is considerably smaller, only a couple hundred. The Villaggio Police department has been able to subdue the uprising, and a mandatory curfew has been put into effect. Mayor Goldberg and the City Council are leading the police and ensuring the tranquility of the western side of the island. They are waiting for word from this office on how to proceed.”

“Tell Mr. Goldberg to continue what he is doing. I will have further instruction for him later,” Minister Kaiser commanded, not removing his eyes from the screen of Ponchertrain.

The helicopters continued circling, as the group of three thousand or so scattered. After a few moments the camera angle turned, and the newscaster who was covering the story began shouting into the microphone, “The mass that had gathered on the Eastern Lawn of Capital Tower seems to be moving now towards Grand Via and the blockade.” The government officials in the Situation Room watched painfully as the men and women who had taken up residency on Capital Tower’s lawn began moving as if a spooked herd towards the blockade. The scene instantly became significantly worse.

“General, we are being bombarded now from both sides!” the colonel communicated to this commander.

“Colonel defensive maneuvers!” the General bellowed. Ray sat down threading his fingers over his short hair.

The General looked towards Hampton and Kaiser, “Gentlemen, my guards need to be able to defend themselves, please permit us to begin full force crowd control maneuvers.”

Kaiser didn’t even flinch, “Do it.”

Again Laurels grabbed the phone and spoke the commands to whoever was on the other line. Instantly the helicopters began dropping canisters of tear gas, and the humvees roared to life. Air raid sirens across the entire island began to blare, and Ray knew this had turned for the worse. After only a couple minutes the mass of people, now more than ten thousand strong, began to fully retreat down Grand Via back into the financial district. From the news helicopters they showed images of civilians throwing torches into store windows lighting buildings on fire. Looting broke out, and Laurels continued shouting into the phone. From outside of the situation room the faint sounds of gunfire could be heard. Ray turned his back to the televisions and left the situation room, dashing for the elevator to go to the office of the President.

              Kay Lyons had already opened the door as Ray and a few followers bounded into the office. From the windows of the Executive Floor, Hampton Ray and the fellow observers watched as the city tore itself apart. The mass of people on the eastern lawn had erupted into all out chaos. Guns were being fired into the air by National Guardsmen on the ground in the mass. Many of the guardsmen had dressed as civilians and had been entrenching themselves in the mass for weeks in preparation that the inevitable would occur. Ray shut his eyes and the sound of sirens filling the air sent a chill down his spine. He could only imagine the pain and suffering taking place down below by both the guardsmen and the citizens. It was excruciating to watch, as hundreds of people were being arresting for failing to cease and desist. The poor and suffering people shouted at the guardsmen and threw things at them violently. The helicopters continued to drop tear gas containers into the crowd and soon the entire Eastern lawn was covered in a thick haze.

              The doors to the President’s office flew open.

              “What the hell is going on?” Jon Pacer demanded, yelling at the gathered observers by the window. “What have you all done?”

              Ray turned, “Jon, it was necessary.”

              “It was necessary to begin attacking your own people, on the streets at the foot of this tower?” Pacer hollered.

              Spavin Kaiser, “Mr. Mayor I believe some things need to be explained to you. Let us return to the Situation Room and I can bring you up to speed.”

              “No, I want to know right now. What right do you all have to attack your own people?”

              Hampton Ray, who was still reeling from seeing Jon Pacer act in such an unusual way for his character, attempted to explain, “Jon it was a necessary call. Minister Kaiser and General Laurels gave the Guards specific instructions: not to touch the protestors unless they cast the first stone. Then, and only then were they allowed to defend themselves and this city from utter chaos. We set up the blockade because if we had allowed the marching riot to collide with the mass that had gathered on the Eastern lawn we would not have been able to control the result but only after immense blood shed. Now, calm down Mr. Mayor, we need your help with the next step.”

              Pacer continued to fight for his people as the group moved back to lower floor of the building with the situation room. Lyons returned to the window, and watched as people, suffering people, were being wrangled up by the National Guard and taken to the fleet of ambulances tending to the injured.

              After explaining, and re-explaining their course of action Hampton turned to Pacer, “Now, Mr. Mayor, it is imperative that you go and calm your people. Speak to them, and be frank with them. We need you to bring this city back together,” he turned to the screen that showed the growing protest in Villaggio, “I will also be speaking to Mr. Goldberg in just a few moments. Luckily we have been able to spare the people of Villaggio the same treatment your people are having to endure.”

              Jon Pacer nodded his head, and slowly left the Situation Room understanding the importance of his task and its impact on the city and nation he loved so dearly.  

39

              Lis Mooring, around 2 am left the Press Room exhausted. She didn’t want to not speak another word. As she pushed herself out of the Pressroom and into the hallway, she found none other than the smiling face of her boss Hampton Ray.

              “Way to go slugger,” he jeered wrapping his arm around the rundown Press Secretary.

              The night had been long. The mayors made their speeches, the revolts quelled, and the government went into high gear ensuring that all of the civil unrest would be glazed over in the morning newspapers. It was essential for the events of the day be downplayed as the massive transition towards statehood entered its final hours.

              “Why aren’t you home, yet, with your wife?” Lis asked promptly checking her watch.

              “She’s out of town for the week, up visiting her mom in the states,” Ray explained as the two of them walked down the darkened hallway in silence. Hampton sighed, “Well we knew something like this was going to happen sooner or later. I am just glad not more people were hurt, or worst killed.”

              “How’s the President doing?” Lis wondered, cutting off Hampton’s rambling thought.

              “Oh he is fine, taking some time to get his affairs in order before tomorrow,” Ray put his hands in his pocket.

              Lis stopped, “Did he really get drunk down by the Chernobyl Peace Fountain, and you, Lyons, and the Guards had to go get him?”

              Ray cracked a grin, and huffed a little, “Oh the men we elect to lead us.”

              They began to walk again. Lis kept going over in head the amazing tranquility that overcame the people of Virtagwalla in the wake of their mayor’s speeches. Never in her four years in Capital Tower could she remember when Rove, even at his height of popularity, had the power to do such an amazing feat. She went over the events that lead to the day’s outbreaks, and she couldn’t blame those who took to the streets to protest what was happening to their nation. As it crumbled before them.

              “Do you think we did the right thing?” Lis asked, again breaking the silence.

              Ray shook his head, “We did what we felt was best at the time. I am sure history will determine whether what we did today was the right thing for this nation or not.”

              Lis stopped and glanced up at the ceiling. A thought had been nagging her all night and she just needed to verbalize it to someone. She began slowly, “I was asked a question that blindsided me earlier this evening. Danny, the young reporter from the Times, asked me, how I personally felt about what happened today.”

              “And how did you respond Ms. Mooring?” Ray snickered.

              “Well my response wasn’t really that important,” she shook it off, “But what got me was his question. How did ‘I’ personally feel about what happen today? I began to realize at that moment that I haven’t truly thought about the concept of ‘I’ in so long that it was difficult for me to find the words to answer his question.”

              “And yet you did I presume?” Hampton insisted, curious of her response.

              She stopped, and spoke staring forward, “We live to fight another day,” she smiled and glanced at her boss, “All I said was, ‘We live to fight another day’. It was short and simple and not at all to the point. But that’s how I felt at the time.”

              “Do you still feel that way now?” Ray winked, even though the hallway was far too dark to see him do so.

              She smiled to herself, and nodded, “Yes, I think I do.”

              “Good,” Ray responded, again moving down the hall towards the elevator, “I will see you tomorrow bright and early to continue the fight.”

              “Good night Hampton,” she grinned as she watched her young boss, the Chief of Staff to the President of Virtagwalla, board an elevator, headed back to the President’s office.