CHAPTER 23

OCTOBER 22ND, 6:15 P.M.

--RAYSHE--

“Move out of the way! Clear a path! He’s here!”

Chaos sowed the streets of the capital. A thick, orange haze hung in the air, fueled by blazing fires. The roar of rioters echoed through the blocks, some chanting, some screaming. Rayshe’s followers tore through the city, broadcasting their message for the world to see. The whirring blades of helicopters hummed overhead. Protestors fought back, forming a line and standing front and center of the violent mass, but rapidly losing ground as The Survivors pressed on, converting or attacking all opposition. The crowd’s attention was suddenly shifted as Rayshe approached; the people parting as he walked through.

“Hall! Hall! Our savior is here!” they shouted. Rayshe slow walked through, establishing his presence, and basking in the attention. Everything he desired, a loyal following, disciples, that shouted his greatness. His power. Hands reached out at him; Survivors grasping, hoping to touch their leader, but none daring to reach far enough.

“My disciples,” he said with a powerful voice. “I am grateful. I look upon your work and I see glory. I see the future, our future, materializing in our vision.”

“Yes! Burn it all!” one shouted.

“No,” Rayshe snapped, holding up a finger. “The mark of a righteous cause is one that spreads its glory not through destruction. This here, this, is sending a message. A demonstration of our devotion, our courage, and our will to survive.”

The crowd roared in applause.

“Go on. And go forth. Continue this display. Show the world our strength, our determination.”

They cheered, jumping up and down as they rallied to his words, forging on. Rayshe took a moment, watching his people storm through the streets for him. He finally achieved his vision: He was a god to these people. And for the first time in years, his mind was clear. The voices were sated. Pleased. He breathed in the smokey air as his mind felt light and unburdened. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for his android companion.

“Where is she?” he said to himself. Following his speech, Rayshe returned to his office, only to find Ahnko was gone without any mention of where she was. He didn’t pay much mind to it, assuming she went to join the riot elsewhere. She couldn’t have gotten far anyways.

He resumed walking down the road, dragging his fingers along a destroyed car, feeling the soot on its frame and the heat from its burning carcass. His quiet moment was cut short as a bulk from the crowd centered on the street corner ahead, working their way toward him.

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“We got one!” they yelled to him. Through the row of people. Rayshe could see a young woman, early twenties, being restrained by two people holding both of her arms and dragging her forward as she kicked and squirmed. Her face was covered in ash and scratches from her resistance.

“Bring her to me,” Rayshe commanded. His followers obeyed, dragging her forcefully until dropping her on her knees before him. She looked up at him with apprehensive eyes, unfazed and devoid of fear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her. “You look tired,” he wiped dirt off her cheek as he spoke, causing her to jerk her head away from his touch.

“You fight so valiantly, determinately. And for what?” Rayshe lectured. “It’s unnecessary. It’s misguided. What you fight against is what fights for you.” Her face held its firm opposition as he talked down to her, unwavering in her beliefs.

“I want you to live. I want you to survive,” Rayshe continued. “It’s not too late, join the winning side,” he said, holding out his hand to her. She stared at his hand, waiting for her acceptance.

Instead, she spit at him. Rayshe mulled his teeth, upset at her foolish decision. She then tried to bite his fingers, but he pulled his hand away before she could reach it.

“Go to hell,” she barked. A collective gasp escaped the onlooking crowd. They anxiously waited for Rayshe’s reaction with bated breaths. But to their surprise, he did nothing.

“It’s okay, my child,” he said to her. “You cannot accept what you don’t understand. But you will. Once you see what we can do for you.”

Rayshe stepped back, motioning his hand out to allow her to leave.

“Mr. President? You’re letting her go?” a Survivor from the crowd yelled out.

“Yes,” he said. With his confirmation, she seized the opportunity, jumping to her feet and bolting away, the crowd parting for her.

“As I said, a righteous cause spreads its message not through destruction,” he explained to his people. “One day they will understand. Brutality will not make them understand. Remember, what we are doing today is a show of our strength and of our will. When you go forth, look to invite others to our cause, not beat them because of it.”

As Rayshe finished his sentence, he spied a camera from behind the wall of people, filming his tangent. He paused, making direct eye contact with the lens, watching how the man holding it grew anxious as he realized Rayshe was looking at him.

He pointed toward the camera, holding his arm locked in front of him as he slowly made his way over to it. The crowd turned their heads simultaneously to the direction of Rayshe’s pointing. The cameraman was singled out, moving away from him and ruining his already compromised obscurity.

“Stay there,” Rayshe commanded, noticing his fear. “Keep the camera on me.” He stepped right to the man, who was trembling with fear, and held the camera by the corner of the lens to keep it steady.

“Listen to my words, America,” he began. “What you see here is the will of The Survivors. What you see, is the drive of mankind to endure. What you see, is an undeniable, and irrefutable demonstration of our cause. We band together so that we may secure a better future for ourselves. We seek to better the lives of ourselves and for others so that we may restore this country, this planet, to its rightful prosperity.”

Rayshe paused for a moment, observing the burning state of D.C. He saw beauty in the damage, not evil. He saw that his ambitions were finally beginning to be realized. He had to suppress a smile from emerging on his face as he finished his declaration.

“We do not seek violence, but do not mistake this: If you conspire to stop us, we will use it. So heed this message. Join the winning side.”