The finger hovered over THE BUTTON. Klaxons sounded, panic on the streets of Beggen.
Screams, frenzied shouts.
Chaos abound. Looting was rife. Women and children first. The streets descending into decadence. Helicopters and private jets filled the skies.
Mirco-lites too.
The roadways were jammed. Trains were no longer running.
Still the finger hovered. Sweat dripped from furrowed brow to palpitating chest.
His shirt was drenched.
“Sir - are we doing this?”
“Chief, we need to move now.”
“SIR!?”
He waited. This was not how it was supposed to be.
No alarms and no surprises.
Please.
Not today.
NOT TODAY.
