Austerity (5 page)

Many people would have believed that the People’s Republic of China would be happy about what was happening in the United States. The exact opposite was true. First of all, our economies are interlinked. If the United States falls, China would suffer great difficulty. Secondly, we feared that this situation would spread to Asia. We did not know if the epidemic of cannibalism was something that was being transferred by air. I ordered my clandestine officers to keep an update on the situation in the Northeastern region of the United States.

Sir William Evers, Resident, Monte Carlo, Monaco

I woke up around 6 AM when I heard about what was happening in the United States. Europe’s hunger situation was considerably worse than what was going on in America. To see the Americans resort to cannibalism greatly worried me. I made a call and had my yacht prepared to go. I did not know where me and my family would be headed. Living on any continent had simply become too dangerous. Yes, there are concerns about pirates. But I just assumed take my chances at sea. I don’t believe zombies can swim.

Riley Evans, Resident, Arlington, Virginia

I was one of the fortune few to still have a D.C. job at the Department of Defense. This allowed me consistent fuel and food rations so I could make it to my job and have something to eat. On the day of the uprising, I get a call to come back to the Pentagon. By three A.M., we get word that the President had left the White House. By five AM, we were given orders that the Pentagon would be on lockdown. I couldn’t go home. And after a while, I realized that there would not be a home to go back to. Whatever happened in New York was coming for us.

Captain Lisa McQuerrie, Operations Officer, Centcom

That morning all hell breaks loose. The fleah eaters in New York had begun to spread quickly all over the Northeast. New reports of cannibalism erupted in just about every city from Bangor, Maine to Richmond, Virginia. Just about every tent city saw people revert to eating human flesh. We sent the report to the President at 0700. Thirty minutes later, we get the “Scored Earth” order - all tent cities and “Unauthorized settlements” would be attacked. Anyone inside those settlements were to be killed. Men, women, children. That’s when I decided I would desert my post later that evening.

Emily Klaber, Forest Park Tent City Survivor, St. Louis, MO

After we heard the news about the cannibalism in New York and the rest of the East Coast, some of the people in the tent city started seriously talking about killing and eating some of the sick people at the camp. The discussion turned to arguments and the arguing turned into fist fights.

At that point, we heard the Blackhawks headed for the tent city. This did not alarm us since we were used to police and military copters flying over the area. But something was different this time. We noticed that Blackhawks were heavily armed with weapons.

Suddenly, the three copters in the sky fired on us. For a second, I just stood there, not realizing what was going on. They I saw about four people get vaporized with bullets a head of me.

Something in my brain screamed, “They are going to kill all of us! Run! Run!” I started running. I hear the bullets shower around me. I didn’t know where I was running but I didn’t stop. I just kept running waiting to get hit by a bullet.

I ran for forty minutes until I collapsed from exhaustion. I lied on my back and looked up at the grey sky. I didn’t see one Blackhawk. But I did hear the sound of a steam ship. I sit up and see myself sitting at the bank of the Mississippi River, which is ten miles East of Forest Park.

I looked at the river for about half an hour. I thought about just jumping into the river and swimming as far away from this city as I could possibly go. Then I looked at a few of the ships cruising down the river. “I have to get on one of those ships. Get down to the Mississippi Delta and get out of here.” That was the plan. Our own government had declared war on us. As long as I was on American soil, I would be targeted for execution.

Sgt. Vince (LAST NAME REDACTED), Army Ranger, Stone Mountain, Georgia

We got the order to start asking our friends to join this para-military unit needed to maintain order in the area. And by “ask,” we were pretty much told that we had to find five men we knew and bring them back to the base.

I go to a couple of friends of mine who are gun owners. Good guys. I tried to “recruit” them with the idea that they would get food, clean water, shelter and the opportunity to live on base. A couple of guys joined up right away. The men with families refused to go.

So I go back with the two new recruits. Not good enough. They wanted more men. Now, this is not what I signed up for. I never imagined that I would be kidnapping men and force them to join the Army.

I didn’t want to go back to the men with families. I needed to a plan. So this is what I did. I set up a perch in an area where I know guys go hunting. I didn’t have to wait long when two guys appeared, trailing a deer. I shot the both of them in the legs. I rushed down, took their weapons. Then I told them that they would be taken an Army hospital and get nursed back to health. And then they would be conscripted a Homeland Army Unit.

I arrive back on base with the two men. The Officer in Charge of Conscription really tore into my ass. “Are you a fucking idiot?! We need to conscript able bodied men and you bring me two guys with bullet wounds. We have to fucking feed them for a month before they will be ready for duty.”

Yeah, perhaps I should have found a way to be more persuasive with my mouth. But the Army don’t pay be to be persuasive. They pay me to shoot people.

Warrant Officer Blake Stowe, Blackhawk Pilot, U.S. Army

Operation “Scorched Earth” was an atrocity. We went from killing flesh eaters to killing civilians who may or may not become flesh eaters. I don’t mind admitting it. The Army can come and arrest me and court martial me. But I know they won’t. We barely have enough pilots to patrol the skies. We barely have enough bullets to kill people. I only wear this uniform because they feed and shelter me. I no longer have a soul. I kill for food. I have essentially become a “flesh eater” in an Army uniform.

Mitch (LAST NAME REDACTED), Member of “Feed The Rich,” Chicago, Ill

I’m going to tell you what “Feed the Rich” means. Originally, we were going to call ourselves “Eat the Rich.” The fact is, simple greed destroyed this country. A small group of people know how to game the system on Wall Street and Washington. They stole the wealth of this great nation and kept it for themselves. Alright, that in itself isn’t bad. However, we knew that the wealthy didn’t want the poor people around. They wanted to starve us out. And we did starve. We starved so badly that some chose to eat their own rather than die hungry. Well, I wasn’t going to eat my fellow man. But Goddammit, I am going to make those responsible pay. We are going to feed the rich to the poor. So that’s where “Feed the Rich” comes from.

But that’s not what you really want to know. You want to know how we do it. You want to know the “ritual” that you’ve heard about on Twitter. You want explanations for those videos on Youtube. You want to know the stories behind those wealth individuals tied up and left for the flesh eaters. Fine, here it goes.

We stake out our prey. The rich live on guarded estates with high walls, deadly canine security and many armed men. Well, when you have enough people, no security is enough. We slowly send the word out on our target. And the starving masses come by the hundreds, sometimes thousands of them show up. And then we lay an old fashion barbarian siege on the property.

You can only shoot so many of us. We just keep coming. We scale the walls. You hit some of us. But you don’t hit all of us. Dozens make it over the walls. Some of them get killed. But guess what? We can now smell your food. We can now see the look on your faces. We keep coming.

The master of the house sees our faces. The master of the house hears our screams. He flees to his panic room. He sometimes leaves his family for us and selfishly saves himself. He runs into the panic room hoping that he will be safe. He won’t be.

The master of the house is in his panic room. He is in a box. We surround the box. He can’t call the police. There are no police. No problem. We start to eat his food. We drink his wine. We shit in his toilets. We can wait forever. Or we can simply find the oxygen supply to his panic room and cut it off.

The always find the air supply. Always. We slowly suffocate the master the way the master has suffocated us. The master of the house begins to bargain for his life. He offers us food, water, gold. He offers us his daughters. He opens the door, gasping for breath. He begs for mercy. He gets none.

We put our hands on the master. He has pissed himself. He has shit himself. We carry him down to the dining room. Why? It is time to feed the rich. We tie the master to the head of the table and we begin to prepare his last supper.

We cook him the finest steaks. We prepare the finest chicken breast. We make him mashed potatoes, rice and beans. We make him a pumpkin pie. We display, in front of his eyes, the grandest meal he has ever seen in his life.

Then we begin to feed him. We chant, “Eat the Rich! Eat the Rich!” While he shove as much food into his mouth as possible. The master eventually throws up. But we don’t stop. We force feed him his stolen bounty until every last bite is gone.

We fatten up the pig. Then we pick up the stuffed pig and carry him out of his castle. We march him to an open road. We tie him up and leave him there. We leave him for the “flesh easters.”

We move away but not too far away. We take photos. We make videos. We post them online. We show the world what we are doing. But more importantly. We show the masters of this corrupt world what will come to them. This is what we have done. This what we will do today. And this is what we are going to do tomorrow.