The Last Faithful

Damages

David Palmer stood at a black podium faced with drone cameras drifting at every angle. Wavering behind him was a tattered holographic American flag. His freshly dyed black hair did little to hide the expiration of his skin.

He adjusted his maroon tie every so often as the display on the other side of the room counted down from thirty seconds.

"Are you ready, sir?" The voice echoed from his earpiece."If yes, tap your pin twice, and we'll get off the count."

David hesitated. Up until this point, he couldn't find a single time to be alone. Every advisor and politician threw their opinions into his own until his reflection looked foreign. But when it came time to make the final decision, the entire world seemed frozen in time, leaving him alone to either fly or fall.

He tapped the pin.

The clock instantly went to zero. The sign above the door that read "LIVE" flashed. The blue light on the drones turned red.

"Fellow Americans, tonight I stand proudly beside you battle-worn yet ever faithful to the promises given us by God. For one thousand years our nation fought for democracy, and it only took eight years for America's so-called bi-partisan government to bury our rich history—"

Alex flicked the switch on the TV off. When she turned around, she found herself the audience of three flustered middle-aged women. The one with the most bothered face was the handsome Logan Carmichael.

Sitting down made her look like a child, but the edges of her hair shined silver exposing her actual age. She wore a dress akin to a classic prim Aupair. Logan covered herself up to the chin with fabric. The long chain around her neck holding two gold wedding bands reflected the fast-spinning fan above them.

"I don't know what you're so mad about. You didn't even vote for him." Alex laughed. "Just ignore him and enjoy life while you still can."

"He's still the president. He's telling us about the end of our world as we know it how can we enjoy that—"

"And if we don't hang on to his every word, the sky will crumble, and the stars will dissolve from time and space!" Alex mocked, her hands clasped in the air as if begging for salvation.

Marsha Thurgood scoffed, "Tease all you like. It may very well do just that. When Republicans get to scheming, they wanna alter the very fabric of the constitution."

When Martha stopped, it took a while for her to catch her breath. The wide chested woman grabbed the inhaler from her dress pocket and took two puffs. "What are you, a female Republican?"

"I don't vote and tell."

All the women groaned in disgust. The other person in the room was Elizah Bee, a chubby woman who wore her hair braided down to her tailbone. Her voice came out raspy as she rarely spoke up at all.

"Don't let Paul hear you say that he's as red as a rose and will yack at you until you're red or dead—"

Alex cut in, "Excuse me. I need to go, supper is ready. Mind your petticoats girls; I wouldn't want to alter your fabric."

The tail end of Alex's skirt hit Logan's legs. Her sister in law rushed behind her with hellfire on her heels. She picked up the J.C.Penny's catalog on the table and slammed it so that salt and pepper went rolling. Alex peeked over her shoulder, then began setting the table.

"House rules, no television during dinner."

Logan's face burned hot like a stove.

"You know damn well this isn't about dinner—"

"No, I don't. I hate hearing people talking about politics, especially when I am trying to eat, yuck."

"Every time they come over, you pick on them."

Alex laid the last plate down and patted her hands dry on her apron.

"What of it? I never forced any of you to be here, but here you all are. Suppers at the table, you old hens!"

Alex pulled off her apron then grabbed her coat by the back door.

"Where are you headed?"

"I'm just going for a walk. I should be back before Paul gets home."

Just as Logan's friends came to enjoy a meal, they didn't have to cook, Alex slipped into her bright raincoat and hurried out the back door before they could ask her for drinks.

Stars peppered the sky in the thousands. Croaks and chirps married into the warm breeze. It was the sort of night to forget everything and only breathe. Nothing was more beautiful to Alex than God's creation.

On the other side of the road, an old car rode by. Dust clouds spun around its wheels. Alex turned to see who owned the vehicle. It looked new, so it certainly wasn't from Frost Valley. Alex squinted to see the license plate better, but the brake lights shrouded the numbers. The back right door swung open. A person wearing a black leather jacket tossed out something bundled in a dark-colored sheet. The door shut quickly, and the vehicle sped off southbound.

"Hold on—what the hell."

Alex started to run after the car but froze near the writhing lump in the middle of the road. She bent down to examine it better. Fingers grasped her wrist, leaving a bike chain impression on her skin.

"Let go," Alex shouted. "Damn it."

She yanked so hard that she fell on her back. A robotic figure buried her beneath its weight. It's fiery red eyes flashed with the caution symbol.

"W-w-w-wattar."

Smoke billowed out from its neck as its power faded away. Alex was finally able to pry her arm from its grip, but not without surrendering a small layer of skin. She pulled the blanket off the robot; its legs were utterly shattered.

"Who the hell would do this to Miner prop?"