” CRASH!
A red brick flew through the air, smashing into a supermarket’s glass door.
The impact left a gaping hole, shards scattering across the pavement.
The store was dark and empty.
Outside, dozens of masked figures waited.
A Black man stepped forward, reached through the broken glass, and unlocked the door from the inside.
“Go!
There’s food in there!” “Ha!
Look at all this stuff!” The crowd surged inside, grabbing whatever they could carry.
Shelves were stripped bare in minutes.
Groceries, canned goods, bottled water—nothing was left behind.
The same scene played out across every city in America.
People ransacked stores, restaurants, warehouses.
Anyone who tried to stop them was shoved aside or beaten.
Since the broadcast revealed the truth, the entire nation had plunged into panic.
People raged against the government’s cruelty—killing its own citizens while pretending to help.
They demanded the release of the anchor who’d spoken out.
In the days that followed, protests erupted in every major city.
Organized groups marched through the streets, chanting for the abolition of the current administration.
They wanted “real leaders” in charge.
Desperate people looted supermarkets and food depots, hoarding whatever they could find.
Others went straight for gun stores.
They knew the truth: with enough firepower, food was never a problem.
Gold and cash meant nothing now.
Jewelry, dollar bills, credit cards—worthless.
Only food and weapons mattered.
The White House stayed silent.
No statements.
No press conferences.
They let the riots burn, let people vent their rage.
But they did protect one thing.
Military forces guarded every industrial zone.
They built walls around factories day and night.
Anyone who tried to break in was shot on sight.
Looters learned quickly.
The rest of the city was fair game, but the factories were untouchable.
Inside Dallas, Brian watched the chaos unfold from the safety of the RV.
The military had stopped distributing rations.
Everyone was on their own now.
The city was a war zone.
Brian didn’t dare visit Herman again—he didn’t want to drag the old man into danger.
Five days after the broadcast, the government finally responded.
A press conference was scheduled for September 22, 2013, at noon.
“Good afternoon.
I’m Robert, director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency.” Autumn had arrived.
Temperatures were dropping.
People bundled in whatever clothes they’d scavenged or stolen.
Even the midday sun couldn’t cut through the cold settling in their hearts.
The streets were eerily quiet.
Nothing like the chaos of the past few days.
People gathered around televisions in their homes or crowded around outdoor screens in public squares.
They were waiting.
Waiting for answers.
On the screen, a podium stood flanked by American flags.
A man with sandy blond hair stepped up, adjusted his suit, and tapped the microphone.
He smiled—a practiced, reassuring smile—and introduced himself before beginning.
“Regarding the allegations made by journalist Teresa of XX News, I’m here today to give you a full and honest answer.
After a thorough investigation, we have confirmed that everything she reported is true.” The crowd erupted.
Both on screen and in the streets, people stirred.
They’d known the truth, but hearing the government admit it was something else.
A collective fury rippled through them.
Yet after days of venting their anger, they held their tongues.
For now.
When the noise settled, Director Robert continued.
“Those responsible have been arrested and will face the harshest penalties.
But we must face reality.
The Cordyceps virus now threatens the survival of our entire species.
The federal government’s slow, outdated system cannot protect us in a crisis of this magnitude.
After consulting with military leadership, we have decided to formally dissolve the current bureaucratic administration.
A new government will be formed, composed of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the military, and the judicial system.
Together, we will build a new America—one capable of defeating this threat.” “Finally!” “About time!” Someone in the crowd cheered.
Others joined in.
Confused but swept up in the moment, more people clapped along.
Robert raised his hands, signaling for silence.
Brian leaned forward.
This was the part he’d been waiting for.
The real announcement.
“The infection rate has reached nearly 60% of the global population.
It can no longer be contained by conventional means.
Therefore, FEMA and the military have passed the Quarantine Zone Act.
We will suspend all vaccine research and halt rescue operations in infected zones.
All military forces will be recalled.
Our resources will be focused entirely on constructing fortified quarantine zones in every remaining city.
Within these walls, full martial law will be enforced.
We believe that by containing Cordyceps beyond these walls, we will eventually reclaim our land.” Robert paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
His expression twisted with visible anguish.
“May God bless the United States of America.” The screen went black.
The signal cutting out this time marked something far bigger than a technical failure.
It was the birth of a new nation—and a future where humanity would live behind walls for decades.
After the press conference, the military moved quickly.
The wall construction, once hidden, was now conducted in plain view.
Armed forces roamed the streets, announcing that the outer walls would be completed within a week.
Curfew was reinstated.
Loudspeakers blared the new rules for life inside the quarantine zone.
All food and weapons would be confiscated upon entry.
Supplies would be distributed equally.
Everyone would be required to work—no exceptions.
No free rides.
“Due to space limitations,” the broadcast announced, “entry to the quarantine zone is strictly voluntary.
Once capacity is reached, remaining survivors will be relocated to other zones.
After that point, only individuals with special authorization will be admitted.” “For those who choose not to enter, a dedicated exit route will be provided.
Applications can be filed within the next week.
The military will provide basic supplies to those who leave, but all possessions collected inside the city must be left behind.” The words hung in the air.
No one spoke.
Osborne stared at the RV ceiling, jaw slack.
“This is…
this is…” He couldn’t finish.
It all felt staged.
The anchor’s revelation.
The riots.
The press conference.
Every piece had fallen into place so perfectly.
Like a giant chess game where someone else was moving all the pieces.
He turned to Brian.
The boy looked deep in thought.
Osborne had learned to trust his instincts.
Brian met his gaze.
He glanced around, ensuring no one else was listening, then lowered his voice.
“You’re right.
This was a coup.
FEMA and the military planned the whole thing.” Read ahead with 70+ chapters now with daily updates!