Nolan's Ark Page 3

  It was Axel’s favorite show. It was everyone’s favorite show, at least according to the ratings. The sight of the MBTs on Melrose was up there with seeing the gods descend from Mount Olympus. This was what everyone needed – a reminder that America wasn’t done yet.

  Jaws slowed to a stop a short distance from the Paramount gate. There was a loud, satisfying hiss as the air brakes released pressure. On both sides of the vehicle, directly underneath the gun barrels, the word ‘JAWS’ was printed in huge silvery-white print.

  Kong pulled up beside Jaws. Both MBTs, parked side by side, swallowed up the entirety of the road.

  The crowd chanted a welcome greeting.

  “USA! USA! USA!”

  “Where’s Goliath?” Lars asked, struggling to make his voice heard over the racket. “Where’s the big one? Axel?”

  Axel shrugged, unable to tear his eyes away from the MBTs. Jesus, two MBTs parked right in front of him like that. It was wild! Living in Hollywood had dulled Axel’s sense of wonder, especially when it came to catching the occasional glimpse of a movie star through a restaurant window or stepping out of a car. That was the way it should be. There was nothing special about actors, not really. What did they do anyway? Put on makeup and pretend to be someone else. In a parallel universe, that sort of behavior would get you locked up. In Tinseltown, they made you a god for it.

  “I don’t know where Goliath is Lars,” Axel said. “But two out of three ain’t bad, right?”

  “What are those banners hanging off the side?” Charlie asked. “You guys see that?”

  Axel saw it.

  Several cloth-like banners flapped gently on the underside of the windows of both MBTs. It looked like somebody’s laundry had been left out to dry in the suffocating post-attack breeze.

  Axel peered in that direction, trying to make out what was written on the banners. The words, printed in bold capitals, basked in the combined glow of the flickering streetlights and the MBT headlights.

  On the side of Jaws: ‘VOTE RAGE!’

  On the side of Kong: ‘VOTE BLACK!’

  “Huh?” Axel said, tipping his cap upwards. “Am I reading that right?”

  “I don’t remember seeing that in the TV show,” Kasey said. “Do you?”

  Axel shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

  Another hissing noise from one of the MBTs. At this, the crowd murmured in excited anticipation.

  “Somebody’s coming out,” Axel said, his heart speeding up. “Oh shit. Now we’ll find out who’s driving this thing.” He was staring at the side door of Jaws, eyes wide open, hands curled into tight fists.

  Time stopped for all those waiting to find out who’d come to their rescue. There was a part of Axel – it was crazy but it was there – that hoped Chuck Kowalski, dressed in full Armageddon costume, would make a grand entrance.

  God, wouldn’t that be something?

  A solitary figure appeared on the roof of Jaw. It was a man dressed in a suit. He walked towards the front of the MBT in slow motion, a dark, grainy figure perched above the windshield.

  There was silence as the crowd processed what they were watching.

  Who they were watching.

  A series of gasps filled the silence, spreading out quickly. It sounded like music. Hushed voices broke out of their shells, emerging as triumphant cries of joy that soared through the night.

  “It’s him!”

  “He’s alive!”

  “He’s alive!” Lars said, his face lighting up.

  Damon Rage, the forty-eighth President of the United States, was alive. He’d survived the attack on Hollywood and here he was, seemingly ready to bring his people back from the dead. He was unruffled – a slim, handsome man in his mid-forties with black curly hair and smooth, tanned skin. He wore a gray, tailor made Armani suit that gave him the air of a Wall Street banker who’d strayed into the White House by accident.

  “USA! USA! USA!”

  When the crowd saw their Commander in Chief they went berserk. They jumped up and down, a stationary stampede that felt like an earthquake on Melrose Avenue. Strangers kissed strangers. Axel felt arms around him, dragging him into a thousand embraces. He clung onto his cap for dear life.

  All of this was surprising given how much the country had turned against their leader in recent years. This was mainly due to a series of political and personal failings that had seen Rage pick up the lowest approval ratings in a long time. Indeed, the power of public feeling was so strong that it had hurtled Rage towards the brink of impeachment. It was suggested that the main reason he attended the charity event at Paramount Studios, an event that would raise money for sick kids in poorer communities, was because it was yet another chance to repair his cracked image.

  But now?

  All was seemingly forgiven. America had bigger things to worry about than the moral failings of the man in the Oval Office. Nobody was perfect after all.

  A woman emerged on the roof of Kong. It was Jezebeth Black, leader of the opposition. She’d been at the Paramount gathering too. Her appearance beside Rage prompted a fresh burst of excitement amongst the crowd. Black was seventy years old, with dyed black hair tied into a bun. It was a hairstyle that exposed her long, wrinkled neck, which gave her a slight extraterrestrial-like appearance. She wore a tight, dark suit that exposed her waif-like figure.

  The two most influential politicians in America were alive. And the crowd was loving it.

  “USA, USA, USA!”

  Both President Rage and Jezebeth Black were carrying a small megaphone.

  The cheering went on for at least five minute. Eventually, Rage was forced to signal for quiet with an outstretched arm.

  As the crowd simmered a man appeared at Rage’s back. Axel’s jaw dropped. He was more of a giant than a man, dressed in a dark suit with a violent spike of angry red-hair on his head that looked lethal to touch. This freak of nature was easily 6’5 or more, and built like a fair-skinned, freckled Hercules.

  The red giant remained a silent, menacing presence at Rage’s back. His eyes roamed the crowd and even from a distance Axel didn’t dare meet his gaze.

  Rage brought the tip of the megaphone to his lips.

  “My fellow Americans,” he said. “What can I say to you? What can I possibly say about what’s happening tonight? If the initial reports are right, this dreadful attack is not isolated to the west coast. There are worrying reports coming in from all over the nation. First things first however, we must remain calm and practical in the face of this crisis. Calmness and practicality – these two qualities will be our saviors. Mark my words.”

  “What are we going to do?” somebody yelled.

  Jezebeth Black stepped towards the edge of Kong.

  “Mr. Rage is right,” she said, her voice tinny and robotic through the amplification device. “Cool heads must prevail.”

  A few people applauded.

  “Jezebeth and I,” Rage said, “along with some of our party members who traveled to California with us, have held an emergency meeting on board these vehicles, these MBTs I’m told they’re called, which were generously donated to us by the good people at Paramount Studios.”

  Another round of applause.

  “Without a doubt ladies and gentlemen,” Rage continued, “this crisis represents the toughest moment of our political lives so far. We don’t know the specific source of these attacks yet or how they managed to…”

  “What the hell do you know?” a bitter-sounding voice cried out. “Isn’t it your job to know? To stop these things before they happen? How the hell could this sort of thing happen in twenty-first century, surveillance-obsessed America?”

  Axel glanced at the faces gathered around him. He sensed something dark, bubbling its way to the surface.

  “Yeah,” a female voice called out. “You’re here in Hollywood hanging out with models and celebrities while our enemies are dropping bombs on our heads. I can’t find my son for Christ’s sake! He’s fifteen years old. How are you go
ing to help me find my…”

  The voice choked to a halt.

  President Rage held up a hand.

  “Don’t worry about our enemies,” he said. “I assure you that part of the problem has been dealt with. And I mean dealt with. Let me put it this way my fellow Americans – we’ve shut the door so that no more flies can get into our country. All we have to do now is get rid of the flies that are already inside the house.”

  Rage clicked his fingers.

  Both Kong and Jaws lit up at his command. A solitary beam of white light, a cylindrical tunnel shot out from the side of both MBTs, lighting up the banners at the windows.

  There was another banner that Axel had missed first time around. Two words were printed on this one, black print on a white sheet:

  ELEKTION NIGHT!

  A gallery of confused faces in the crowd stared up at the President.

  “We must face facts,” Rage said. “Tomorrow our country will not look the same as it did yesterday. From what I hear, Washington is in ruins. That means Congress is gone. The federal government as we know it ladies and gentlemen, is over. This country, if it’s to survive and rebuild, must start over again. Jezebeth and I – thank God – are still alive. But it’s not up to me and it’s not up to Jezebeth who leads America back to the light. As President, I must take my share of responsibility for what’s happened tonight. I cannot simply expect you to allow me back in as tomorrow’s leader, not without due democratic process. What I’m saying friends is that if I’m to lead us back to glory, it will be because you want me to. After all, nobody can argue with democracy.”

  “Is this really happening?” a voice behind Axel said.

  “And,” Rage continued, “that’s why we invite you to cast your vote tonight. Use your voice. I’m calling an emergency election, right here in Hollywood. Who do you want to lead the resurrection of the United States? Jezebeth Black or me. That’s the choice we’re asking you to make.”

  There was a moment’s silence. A scattering of boos emerged within the crowd.

  A blond-haired man of about forty stepped forward. He was a towering figure in a green trenchcoat and he stopped about twenty feet from Jaws and Kong, arms outstretched as if offering up a challenge to the two politicians.

  Axel watched the red giant at Rage’s back. His back stiffened as the blond man approached the MBTs.

  Someone else pushed their way out of the crowd. A thickset black man, wearing a white t-shirt soaked in what might have been blood, went over and stood beside the blond. The two men exchanged glances at one another, as if communicating silently. Then they turned back to the MBTs.

  The booing fizzled out.

  “President Rage,” the blond-haired man said in a sharp. confident tone. “My name is Gunther and this here’s my buddy Jack.”

  Rage’s handsome features were half-cloaked in the darkness. “Gunther and Jack,” he said. “What can I do for you two gentlemen?”

  It was Jack who pointed to the ‘Elektion’ banners.

  “We’ve got hundreds of frightened people here,” Jack said. He sounded more pissed off than Gunther. “And we got thousands more running around the streets, looking for help. Millions, if we’re talking about the rest of the country. They’re out there searching for lost loved ones. We need medical supplies and support. We need food and shelter. The police are nowhere to be found. The army? The air force? Are they fighting off your flies Mr. President sir?”

  “We thought you were here to help us,” Gunther said. “You saw how relieved these people were when you showed up in these MBTs. And this is what you give them – you’re calling an election?”

  Jack turned around, pumping a fist in the air and whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Jack’s shoulders were so broad they made Atlas look like Woody Allen in comparison.

  Rage’s hands were outstretched, appealing for calm.

  “How could this happen?” somebody shouted.

  “We’ve been ambushed by outsiders from within.” Rage said. “And now they’re using some of our vast military resources against us. That they’ve passed themselves off as true Americans like you and I – it sickens me. It really does. But try to understand my friends, this vote is…”

  Gunther laughed out loud.

  “If it’s all the same,” he said, “I’d rather vote for the garbage man to be the next President. Or the postman. Or the waitress who served me my waffles at breakfast this morning. She was definitely more capable than you Rage.”

  “Will you listen please?” Rage asked. His voice cracked with frustration. “Will you listen to what I have to say?”

  “Tell us something worth listening to then,” Jack snapped. “What are you doing about this mess for Christ’s sake?”

  Rage nodded. “Very well. How about this then? Before we lost communication with my military advisors, my trusted military advisors, we held an emergency telephone conference. And I can tell you now my friends, that the United States of America has launched a successful counterattack against those responsible.”

  Jack’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Against those responsible?”

  Rage’s eyes twitched impatiently.

  “We’ve undertaken a series of nuclear launches at pre-arranged targets. And I’m pleased to report ladies and gentlemen, that those launches have been successful. We got the bastards good for this.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence in the crowd.

  “Who exactly is them?” Gunther asked.

  Rage’s face slipped out of the light.

  “All of them.”

  Gunther and Jack looked at one another. Both their jaws almost dropped off.

  “All of them?” Gunther yelled. “We ask you what you’re doing about this and you tell us you’ve ordered a nuclear assault on a group of countries that might have had something to do with the attack? Am I hearing this right?”

  “Leadership is about making hard choices,” Rage said. “In order to eliminate the threat we had to eliminate all possible threats.”

  Axel heard Kasey gasp beside him. She wasn’t the only one flabbergasted either.

  “Is he actually saying this?” Kasey said, turning to Axel. “What a dick.”

  Axel shrugged, feeling helpless. He was searching for a possible route through the crowd that would get them out of there.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  Jack and Gunther were barraged with people in the crowd who wanted them to address the President. For a few minutes they looked like DJs taking requests at an outdoor nightclub. They did their best to listen but it was obvious just by looking at them that they were as stunned as everyone else on Melrose Avenue. After a hurried discussion with a handful of the most vocal individuals they turned back to the MBTs, signaling to Rage and Black that they were ready to talk.

  Rage and Black were perched atop their respective vehicles. Waiting.

  “Mr. Rage,” Gunther yelled, loud enough for everyone in Hollywood to overhear. “Miss Black. Let’s lay our cards on the table shall we? Something smells bad here. Real bad, and I’m not talking about the stink of all these dead bodies on the streets. What do I see here tonight? A President on the brink of impeachment, a sudden attack on our country and a ready-made excuse to disable any up and coming superpowers that might be considered a threat.”

  “And that unpopular, soon to have his ass impeached President,” Jack said, stepping forward, “will come out of this in a much better position than he did going in. Especially if he can say he’s been democratically elected in the aftermath. The truth is Mr. Rage, that while everyone else is running around in a panic tonight, you look a little too…ready.”

  Rages stared at the two men, his eyes concealed in the darkness. He turned around and whispered something to the red giant standing at his back. The giant nodded and walked back to the sunroof.

  “And what about you Miss Black?” Gunther said, shouting at the elderly woman still standing on Kong’s roof. “Are you in on all this too?” br />
  “This guy,” Jack said, pointing at Rage but staring at Jezebeth Black. “He won’t play fair.”

  Jezebeth Black smiled and shook her head.

  “Confusion is natural,” she said. “Anger in these circumstances is natural too. And the need to blame? Perfectly natural gentlemen. But we must avoid the temptation to lose ourselves in wild conspiracy theories.”

  She lowered her megaphone and stared down at the people from her high vantage point. The woman was as still as a mannequin. Axel sensed a vague detachment in her expression, almost as if her face was a mask of sorts, a perma-grin etched on the front.

  The crowd was edging its way towards the two MBTs, inch by inch. Most people went forward willingly, inspired by the brave stand of Gunther and Jack, infuriated by the startling accusations of an inside job, as well as the startling sight of celebrities and supermodels inside both MBTs, gazing down at the crowd from bulletproof vantage points. Like they were staring at animals in a zoo.

  Others weren’t moving forward so willingly, but they were in the thick of it and had little choice but to go with the momentum. Axel and his friends were very much in this group.

  “We should go,” Axel said. “I think we should get out of here.”

  Kasey nodded. “Yeah. I agree.”

  But Lars and Charlie couldn’t hear Axel. At that moment they were being pushed forward by a group of about ten angry men and this wave of frustration carried them further away from their two friends.

  There was bewilderment on both their faces. And fear.