CRASH!
A red brick—thrown by someone in the crowd—smashed through a supermarket's glass door, leaving a gaping hole and a sharp crack of shattering glass.
The store interior was dark and deserted. Dozens of masked figures stood outside. A Black man stepped forward, reached through the broken glass, and unlocked the door from inside.
"Quick! There's food back there—grab it!"
"Hell yeah! Look at all this stuff!"
"..."
As the door swung open, the mob surged inside, snatching whatever they wanted.
Similar scenes played out across cities nationwide. Crazed mobs rampaged through streets and alleys, looting everything in sight. Any shop owner who tried to resist was beaten into the ground.
Ever since that broadcast had revealed the truth, American society had plunged into panic. People raged against the callous bureaucrats who'd stopped working on a vaccine and started slaughtering their own citizens instead. Demands for the anchor's release echoed everywhere.
In the days that followed, protests erupted in every major city—led, some suspected, by people with ulterior motives. The demonstrators demanded the dismantling of the old government and called for "people with real ability" to take charge.
Those who'd run out of food used the chaos as cover to raid supermarkets and grocery stores, hoarding as much as they could carry.
Others made straight for gun shops. Their logic was simple: with enough firearms, what couldn't you take? Food? That was the easy part.
No one cared about gold or cash anymore. In the shadow of the apocalypse, precious metals and paper money had lost their allure. Everyone understood that only food and weapons could keep you alive.
Yet despite the chaos consuming the cities, the government issued no response. They simply let the angry mobs loot and destroy—as if deliberately allowing people to vent their rage.
The only places they defended were the industrial zones. Military forces maintained strict security around the factories, working day and night to build towering walls. Anyone who damaged factory equipment was shot on sight. No exceptions.
The would-be vandals, seeing armed soldiers ready to kill, wisely decided there were plenty of other places to trash without risking their lives.
In Dallas, Bryan stayed inside the RV, watching the chaos unfold through the window. Since the broadcast, the military had suspended all food distribution. If you wanted to eat, you had to fend for yourself.
It was practically an invitation for survivors from the infection zones to ransack every possible food source. The lawlessness made Bryan reluctant to risk visiting Armand—he didn't want to bring trouble to the old man's door.
Finally, on the fifth day of nationwide unrest, the government announced it would hold a press conference on September 22nd, 2013, at noon—promising to give the American people a satisfactory answer.
...
"Good afternoon. I'm Robert, Director of the Federal Disaster Response Agency."
The temperature had been dropping with each passing day. People bundled up in clothes they'd prepared—or stolen—to ward off the cold.
Even the midday sun, filtering through gaps in the clouds, couldn't dispel the chill in people's hearts.
Today, the streets were strangely quiet—a stark contrast to the chaos of previous days. People gathered in front of televisions at home or crowded beneath public screens in plazas, watching and waiting. Waiting for an answer.
On screen, a podium stood flanked by American flags. A middle-aged man with sandy blond hair stepped up to the lectern. He straightened his crisp suit, adjusted the microphone, and allowed himself a restrained, respectful smile before introducing himself—then got straight to the point.
"Regarding the broadcast several days ago by Ms. Theresa of XX Network, our investigation has been thorough. Today, I'm here to give everyone a direct answer: Yes. Everything she reported was true."
The crowd erupted. Murmurs swept through both the televised audience and the people watching outside. Despite already knowing the truth, hearing the government confirm it brought fresh waves of fury. But days of venting had left people with just enough self-control to keep from screaming at the screen.
Once the noise subsided, Director Robert continued:
"We have detained and severely punished all personnel responsible for issuing those orders. However, the Cordyceps virus now poses an existential threat to humanity. FEDRA has determined that the previous administration's sluggish bureaucratic system is incapable of guiding humanity through this crisis. Therefore, after reaching consensus with the military, we have decided to formally dissolve the traditional government structure. FEDRA, the Armed Forces, and law enforcement agencies will jointly form a New America—one that will help humanity overcome the Cordyceps threat!"
"Yes!"
"Finally! This is what we needed!"
"..."
After Robert finished speaking, someone in the televised crowd started cheering—and suddenly applause thundered through the venue. Many people had no idea what was actually happening, but seeing others clap, they joined in.
After a moment, Director Robert raised both hands, gesturing for silence.
Bryan, watching from the RV, leaned forward intently. He knew whatever came next was the real substance of this announcement.
"Given that global CBI infection rates have approached sixty percent, effective containment is no longer possible. FEDRA and the military have unanimously decided to pass the Quarantine Zone Act. We will suspend all vaccine research, abandon rescue operations in infection zones, recall all deployed military units, and concentrate every available resource on constructing Quarantine Zones in cities large and small. These zones will operate under full military governance. We firmly believe that by keeping Cordyceps outside our walls, we will one day reclaim the land that was once ours!"
Robert's expression grew pained, as if the decision had cost him greatly. Then he lifted his head, looked directly into the camera, and declared: "May God bless America!"
The broadcast cut to static.
This time, the signal loss heralded the birth of a new government—and the fate that would define human survival for decades to come.
After the press conference, the military moved swiftly to restore order. Construction on the walls continued openly now. Thanks to extensive preparation, announcements declared the basic perimeter walls would be complete within a week.
That night, during curfew, loudspeakers broadcast the rules for life inside the Quarantine Zones:
All food and firearms would be confiscated from those entering. Supplies would be distributed uniformly. No one would be allowed to remain idle—everyone would be assigned labor duties to help humanity weather the crisis. And so on.
After listing the regulations, the announcer added a special note:
"Due to limited capacity within the Quarantine Zone, entry is voluntary. Should the zone reach capacity, excess population will be transferred to other Quarantine Zones. After initial enrollment closes, except under special circumstances, no additional survivors will be admitted.
"For citizens who choose not to enter the Quarantine Zone, the military will establish a designated exit corridor. Applications to leave the city may be submitted anytime within the next week. The military will provide basic supplies for survival. However, all materials obtained within the city must remain behind."
Each announcement hit like a hammer blow. People stood frozen, unable to speak.
"This... this..." Osborne listened to the broadcast, struggling to form words.
Something felt deeply wrong about all of this. From the anchor's bold exposé, to the widespread looting, to today's press conference and the new rules—everything seemed orchestrated. As if an invisible hand had been guiding events all along.
Osborne turned to Bryan, who wore the same contemplative expression. Despite being just a kid, Bryan had proven sharper than most adults over the past few days. Osborne wanted to hear his take—to see if their conclusions matched.
Sensing Osborne's gaze, Bryan met his questioning eyes. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then spoke quietly:
"Don't bother guessing. This whole thing was a power grab planned by FEDRA and the military from the start."