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Most drivers were still following traffic laws, but there were enough outlaws on the road for the law-abiding citizens to notice something was amok.
Like a contagious disease, panic was easy to spread and difficult to stop.
We’ll fill the trunk with as much supplies as possible.
“Donald, you sound like a pessimist. I’d appreciate it if you kept your negativity away from my family.” “Mom, what’s a pez-it-mist?” Cameron asked. Donald said, “A pessimist, son, is a person who stays alive during crises like this one.”
He had been saddened and disgusted by the news for a few minutes before another national tragedy broke his heart. Then another tragedy made headline news. And then another one. Coverage of bloody tragedies was normal in mainstream media. Bad news dominated the headlines to the point where it all started to blur together.
There are people, uh... who made bad decisions out there. They want to hurt us because they’re not thinking straight. They can’t think straight anymore. So, we have to be careful.”
His survival instincts and survivor’s guilt played a game of tug-of-war for control of his body.
“I don’t have to listen to you fucking pigs anymore. This is a free country. Freer than ever, as a matter of fact. How it was always meant to be. Everyone for themselves, right? What’s yours is yours… if you’re strong enough to keep it.”
All men are welcome here, even the traitors—so long as they renounce their old ways and accept our beliefs. And what are our beliefs, you ask? Simple. All men are created equal... and all women are whores. Sacks of flesh for our pleasure... and our consumption. Brainless dolls for us to play with... and take apart. Slaves to our whim... and incubators of our seed. We—you and I and him and him and him—are everything. They are nothing.”
