Fema Camp?Video here, page 2

This little work of fiction speaks for itself. Any resemblance to person, events, organizations is purely coincidental. The intent is to show how easy it would be for the US to cross the line. It's happened elsewhere due to less.

The FEMA Camp:

Yesterday, that FEMA camp outside of town was only a tree farm. Occasionally there had been some trucks with workers going in and out. Locals tried to get the workers to chat about it and the only response – a disinterested stare. They were all illegals anyway. Work was work and the economy was in a recession.

Tonight as you sit at home with your family watching American Idol, the program is interrupted by a bulletin from CNN’s Washington news bureau. A female army captain in battle uniform is reading a report about some kind of nuclear device that had detonated within the City of Houston. No one has yet claimed responsibility.

12 hours later and with every update, CNN shows the faces of a dozen dark haired men with Middle Eastern sounding names. The FBI had raided their apartments and found large amounts of documents and other evidence, - video tapes, parts, tools, and rolls of lead foil. The scene shifts to a news crew and team of FBI investigators at one of the apartments mentioned. One reporter holds up a driver’s license –last name Tehrani. Other documents held up to the camera reveal that he is an Iranian immigrant, a physicist.

CNN cuts away now to a hurriedly arranged press conference at an air force base somewhere in North Dakota. George W. Bush announces that martial law had been put into effect one hour after the nuclear detonation in Houston.

He confirms everyone’s worse fears. For all 50 states and US protectorates, civilian air travel and railroad travel have been shut down.All police, fire services, public and private telecommunications facilities have been federalized under Homeland Security. Active duty, national guard units and private security contractors are in control of roads, bridges, fuel, and food warehouses. The President hardly pauses before he continues, and mentions that the November elections will be cancelled due to the present state of emergency.

Because perhaps, you’re a different kind of bear, you become vocal about the arbitrary dissolution of Congress and the mass arrests and detentions, under cover of numerous executive orders issued over the course of the previous eight years. You smelled a rat. You spoke up.

Flash forward a month: You are within the local ‘Freedom Camp’, being pushed along, away from your FEMA trailer. The guards are harassing some of the more stubborn ones. You see many with bloody noses and bruises, standing in a queue that stretches for three blocks. You are now in that queue.

“You all stink,” says one. “We’re getting all you maggots over to the showers so you can get decontaminated. It’s for your health and safety.”

“I’m hungry, when can we eat?”

“Not until you get decontaminated. Now shut up.”

You realize that the place you are being walked towards is the old meatpacking plant, but there are no animals in the stockyard at the edge of the camp, to butcher. First, some illegals come along and everyone is shaven down. They walk up to each person in turn, taking their valuables away and putting them into crates. A woman follows behind, says she’s from the Red Cross and asks for anyone interested in donating blood. They’ll be able get their lunch without having to wait for the decontamination. Many agree and are escorted away from the queue.

You are about to ask the woman why it would be safe to give blood if you hadn’t yet been decontaminated, but suddenly she moves along and someone else is now asking each man for his name and social security number. Two old men begin to mumble, unable to remember their numbers. They’re ignored as the queue begins to move again. The line of men continue to surge every twenty minutes or so, then halts.

You smell something acrid, greasy. Just beyond the shower building you notice a thick plume of black smoke rising. You begin to hear the whispers. You can’t see, but you can hear someone scream as he’s being clubbed down by three guards. The screaming stops.

You look around again and shake your head. How could this all happen?” you say to yourself. You feel a rising pitch of vomit climb up into your throat, and then all you can do is double over and retch. You are not the only one doing so. A rotten smell hangs in the air.

There is nobody there to rescue you. You cough and wipe your mouth with your sleeve and look around, angry now. One guy suddenly dashes out of the queue, heading towards a line of trees a hundred yards to the west. He gets 50 feet and then he’s dropped by a sniper from one of the watchtowera. He could have waited - he could have bought some more time, maybe a minute, maybe more. What did it bring him to be a hero and try and make a run for it? Nobody cared. You’re still here and he is not. You smile.

More guards have arrived and they begin joking amongst themselves, pointing at the bullet-ridden body in the dust. They giggle at the sullen men queued up for decontamination. One turns and makes eye contact with those in the queue. “You all smell like pigdip. I hope there’s some soap left by the time you reach the shower. Only clean pigs allowed here.”

The other guards recoil in laughter. The queue shuffles, occasionally surging forward. It has been hours. There must have been a thousand ahead of you, but thankfully, you near the building.

You hear muffled sounds within, unable to make out the words, the meaning. You hear doors quickly open and close. Then you and others enter and hustled through a hallway. You are all told to undress and put your clothes in neat stacks on the floor. Helpers walk up and down the hallway, cheerfully telling everyone that their clothes will be tagged and returned after they’re decontaminated.

The mood brightens a bit around you. You can even hear some joking. Orders are for everyone to remain calm and quiet. You're reminded that there is plenty of warm water for everyone. It becomes silent now as you all shuffle slowly towards another door. When it opens, the helpers guide everyone and remind you firmly not to bunch up together, and tell you that it's selfish to waste soap.

You look up and see shower heads above you. You want to ask who has the soap and why the floor is not wet, but are afraid they’ll beat you if you raise your voice.

You notice now that the room smells of urine and death. Before you can say anything, the doors slam shut and the lights go out and a gas slowly rises up from the showerheads towards the ceiling.

You think to yourself - there might still be a chance that someone may somehow burst in to rescue all of you. You hear sobbing and realize it is coming from you.

And now you take in one long breath and your mind begins to fade to black.