Raining Bullets Flood the Streets in Red

You looked out the open doors and, not for the first time, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been. Military bullets hailed down on Americans. The streets were flooded in red as Big Brother was birthed into the world…

It was just this morning when you got up and turned on the tv. You brushed your teeth and combed your hair as the weatherman announced another sunny summer day. As you dressed for work, the anchor said, "In other news, the president announced the country to be under martial law, effective immediately."

You nodded thinking to yourself, Good. Those ‘protesting’ looters were getting out of hand anyway. Then you put your mask on as you exited your house and started your car.

As you pulled into the parking lot of your favorite coffee house, you saw the same old crowd marching around the nearby courthouse. Their signs read: Say Their Names and Defund the Police. Those were amongst the countless others beginning with Justice For with most ending with a single man’s name.

You sighed and wondered, What is even the point of blowing up over isolated incidents? Besides, if this continues even longer, it will cause another surge in the current health crisis. You ordered your coffee and bagel, then you made your way to the office, five buildings down

You made it just in time. At least your boss wouldn’t chew you out today. You swiped your timesheet before making your way to your cubicle, an exact match to every other. On the way, you greeted Mr. Basic and Mrs. Karan.

You placed your started breakfast on the desk and slid into the chair. You logged in and checked your email which was already spammed with demands from your overlord. Again, you sighed and began to work on those spreadsheets.

As soon as your first break came, you made a beeline for the balcony, stopping by the vending machine for a coke and chip. There, after pushing down that insufferable mask, you began to snack and partook in your favorite break activity, looking down on the world.

You look towards the rally back down the street and sneered. For the past several weeks their cries had penetrated the office walls, distracting everyone. Some of your coworkers had wandered to the windows, ignoring the standard flow. Then you got yelled at by the boss all because Ms. Empathetic didn’t do her part.

You went back inside, recovering your face and forgetting your trash on the balcony ledge. You returned to your identical cubical and reopened your spreadsheets.

During your lunch break, you took a short walk to that burger joint across the street called Amendment Grill House and ordered a number 2, after Mrs. Karan ordered a number 1 and before an Afro-American teen ordered ten number 4s, no fries or drinks. You thought that was excessive for a single person.

As you navigated your way back to the office you noticed the armed military approach the crowed on the other side. At first, your heart ceased throbbing for a second, then you remembered the news said something about martial law coming into effect. That’s right, this was all for the public’s safety. They were there to prevent riots.

You hand made your way back to that uniform cubicle when you heard the first bullet shot, followed by a storm of others, contradicting the weatherman. You paused midway into your seat then jolted into a jog, knocking your order 2’s ice-tea all over your computer and paperwork.

You found you’re self on the crowded balcony next to Ms. Empathetic and your cubical neighbor, Mr. Valor. Down below, bullets rained on the protesting crowds, undistinguished by peaceful and aggressive. “What the fuck,” screamed Ms. Empathetic, “We have to do something!” She and Mr. Valor along with a few others began speeding toward the ground floor. And you, you found yourself following them.

You passed by Mr. Basic and Mrs. Karan under their desks and reconsidered your actions. What were you doing? Why were you going into the firing zone? Then you thought, This is the right thing to do.

You assisted Ms. Empathetic at the door, beckoning fellow citizens inside, as Mr. Valor ran out to look for a woman’s stranded child. Over a microphone, the leader of those troops said, “Anyone protecting these criminals will face the same consequences,” as they fired into Amendment Grill House across the street.

This is madness, you thought. Sure, you were annoyed by these people, but you hadn’t seen them commit crimes like the looters had in the name of equality. They just marched around in front of the courthouse, waving around their signs.

And you looked out the open doors and, not for the first time, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been. Military bullets hailed down on Americans. The streets were flooded in red as Big Brother was birthed into the world.

Then you saw that Afro-American teen, who ordered the ten number 4s, running past you, yelling out for their father, mother, brother, sister, cousin, aunt, uncle, grandma, and grandpa. Then a soldier, who swore an oath to the people, shoved them down into the asphalt, pinning them down with a foot to the neck. As Mr. Valor ran into view to aid the kid, your cubical neighbor was shot in the head.

Then, something sparked your legs into motion. Maybe it was Mr. Valor had grown and rubbed off on you, or maybe it was because the kid continued cried out. Either way, you found your self running. Even when bullets hit your thigh and shoulder, you kept running. You shoved the camouflaged, blood-stained soldier off the child, and not a moment later, a bullet marked your heart.

You slumped to the ground as your blood seeped out into a puddle, dying your white work shirt crimson. All around, people flooded out from the surrounding buildings, thrashing the traitors with whatever they could find, crying out for reformation to the system that would allow cruelty to even children and would those attempting to protect their future. You took this in as you slipped into the great abyss, thinking to yourself, Is this all I have to give?