Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again. - Chapter 404

Chapter 404: Just married.
His words were an admission of guilt. The necessary confession to arouse the anger of the people that had once seen him as their leader.

“Kill him…. please.” A woman pleaded with Roy. “Kill him, kill him right now. Take the gun and shoot him. Just blow his brains out.”

Ceasar glowered at the woman. “Shut your damn mouth bitch, if I did not do this, would we have survived this long. Natural selection is….”

The woman jumped on Ceasar, growling like a rabid god. And once again, she was pulled off of him forcefully by Elise.

“Calm down.” Elise barked at the hysterical woman.

A man raised his voice from the back, “I don’t care if you plan to kill us all but Ceasar must die first. Throw him into the Mist! Let him feel the same terror that he made others feel!”

Elise laughed. “We heard about that.” She turned to Ceasar. “You have truly been a naughty fake president. You sent so many to their death.”

Ceasar looked on coldly. “I wanted to give them a chance to survive. All of you are superhuman because you encountered the mist in one way or another. If you were not powerful, would you have the ability to oppress me? A bunch of thieves and cowards.”

Lugard winced. Ceasar was arrogant but now was not the time for the arrogance and self-importance. They needed to find a way to survive.

Roy looked at his watch, they did not have much time to spend debating Ceasar’s fate. And the people were getting louder, shouting for Ceasar to be thrown into the mist. Who was he to deny their request? “Into the mist, eh?” He turned to Ceaser. “The people have decided.”

Ceaser shook violently. “You wouldn’t_ you can’t_ I’m the president_!”

“Oh shut it!” Roy answered

Rogier stepped forward. “The Mist has been gathering around the Senate building since morning. It will be here in an hour or two.”

Roy clapped his hands. “Drive as close as you can towards it and send him off for a permanent vacation boys.”

Two men stepped forward, grabbing Ceasar on each side by the arms. He was dragged out kicking, screaming, threatening to haunt them.

When that did not work, he resorted to begging, promising promotions to anyone that helped him, crying for his mother, then switching to praying loudly. His voice echoed all the way up the shattered street as they hauled him to the car like a sack of potatoes.

And soon, it was completely gone.

For the people he had tormented, this was a moment of great relief and joy. But they remained tense, filled with fear, uncertain of what the future held for them,

And Lugard, he was trying hard not to be noticed. He wished for everyone to suddenly get a case of amnesia and not sentence him to the same fate as his boss.

But the hysterical woman was not about to let him get away with it. “Him too.” She pointed Lugard out. “He is Ceasar’s right hand man.”

Roy shook his head, “He knows where the treasures, secrets and bodies are buried.”

Rogier forced Lugard to stand up and he was taken away. The ransacking of the bunker continued. It was rich in resources; there was much to take but not enough time.

The men that took Ceasar returned and reported to Roy that he had been thrown into the mist. The last thing they heard was his scream.

Twenty minutes passed.

“Time to go.” Someone from outside shouted. “The mist is traveling faster that we expected.”

The superhumans retreated, leaving the residents of the bunker behind. The people scrambled too, gathering whatever supplies they could manage to carry.

Many vowed never to set foot on the grounds of the White house again. Not even after the apocalypse ended.

********

Crosstown.

The wedding was finally over, though Moon preferred to call it “The Coronation of the lady of the base,” a title she repeated to herself at least a dozen times on this day as if she were trying to convince the herself that she’d won something special.

To her, that was exactly what she had done. She was now officially married to Peter_ her old, tall, gentle, wonderfully gullible Peter_ and if that wasn’t the best way to kick off a normal day during the times of doom and ruin, she didn’t know what was!

The ceremony had not been satisfactory. It was nothing to remember. It had been tiny, barely more than a handshake with holy water. Just her, Peter, and a priest who had looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

But Moon did not have the luxury to complain.

In the old world, she would have demanded drones, fireworks, a red carpet, swans, an orchestra, expensive marigolds, a choir of children with angel wings, and a white dress with a long train.

Now? She knew better than that, having lived in an apocalypse once before. All she just wanted was the man, the ring, the wealth, the status and the bragging rights.

Tonight, she would accomplish another milestone. She would be meeting Peter’s son, the one she had never seen. She did not even know much about him.

The people Peter had assigned to take care of her did not answer her questions about this mysterious son. They always found a way to divert the topic or avoid it altogether.

Frankly, she suspected that something was wrong with the boy or man. She did not know how old he was. But, as long as he did not give her trouble, she would be at peace with him.

If he proved to be a problem, she would assert her authority or get rid of him altogether. And in the apocalypse, there were many ways to do that without anyone knowing.

Moon walked to the window and looked outside. A small smile started to form on her lips when she felt the warm rays of the sun seeping in through the window on the seventh floor of the building.

She wondered if Charmaine would be up for committing a little murder. He could help her get rid of Peter’s son. The trouble was that she had not seen any of her people ever since Strauss took her away from them.

Moon looked down at the street, a frown marring her forehead. She wondered how she would communicate with them without Peter’s people noticing. Could someone down there help her pass along a message?

“Mrs. Strauss, the dresses are here. You can choose what you wish to wear to the dinner from these.” Moon’s personal maid Gabby announced, pushing a rack with twenty dresses closer to the living room.

Three more were being brought inside by six employees. Among them was one pregnant woman with a black veil over her head.

Her face was also covered, and her eyes were darting around, widening when they caught a glimpse of Mrs. Strauss.

The woman turned swiftly and left the room.