Reset: A Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Fantasy (Contaminant Series Book 1) by Eli Frost Duham

Chapter One
    Michael Kin was standing in the hallway by the front door of his apartments when the knock came.  He grabbed his briefcase and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.  The air was brisk, crisp and cold, even though the sky was clear and the sun was blinding.  He was already being ushered toward the vehicle by his chaperone.  The streets were empty but Michael hurried up just as well.
    The soldier entered the vehicle after Michael, effectively squishing him in the middle.  He looked ridiculous.  On either side of him, the soldiers had “high and tights”, military approved sunglasses, a no-nonsense visage, and tactical weapons in their laps.  Then there was Michael, trying not to infringe upon anyone’s space, with his arms clasped around his briefcase, which was standing up long-ways.  His hair was light brown, curly, and reminiscent of an adolescent but his face was solemn. 
    The only other person in the vehicle besides Michael and the military escorts was his counterpart.  Chris had just finished reading one section of the paper was looking for something else to read.
    “If you’re done with the main section, do you mind?” It would make sense that when Michael opened his mouth to speak, that’s when they would drive over all the potholes.  His voice fluctuated with each bump.
    Chris didn’t respond, but handed over the section without even looking up.
    Michael had to extend himself over his briefcase to reach for the section.  He took it from Chris, without a thank you.  They were past pleasantries and Chris didn’t like to be bothered so early in the morning. 
    About this time each morning, they passed through a detour neighborhood.   They could bypass it but they always chose to drive through it, just to survey the situation.   Michael’s glasses reflected the citizens of Washington D.C.  It also seemed as though these people were looking for them, waiting on them.  They started throwing rocks at the large black Hummer almost immediately.
    Michael closed his eyes as they passed through the neighborhood to the main road.  All these people were hungry and desperate.  The Hummer and all the windows were armored.  Michael knew that if a bullet couldn’t pass through, neither would the rocks.  But, it still made him uncomfortable.  People yelled insults and did their absolute best to damage the vehicle.  It occasionally took restraint on the soldiers’ part not to intentionally run down one or two of the enraged aggressors.  That was probably the only threat keeping the hummer from being overrun.
    Once they reached the main road, Michael went back to his newspaper.  The front cover had a picture of millionaire John Gordman, the scientist, peace activist extraordinaire.  In lieu of his death, the local newspaper… the only newspaper left in town, wrote a piece on him and his organization, BBP - Building Better People.  They sponsored everything from farming to medicine and mentorship and frequently held an open house at Gordman’s mansion in Missouri.
    They were very ambitious for a peace organization.  Michael had met Gordman once when he came to the White House.  He seemed like a real down-to-Earth kind of guy.  One time, he had even invited Michael to visit him on his land.  But, he invited everyone to visit him.  Even still, Michael got the impression that they would all be welcomed.   Continuing to read some sections and skim over others, by the time the Hummer reached the White House, Michael had finished the main section.
    ***
    It was just before 9 am when the black Hummer pulled into the secured garage connected to the White House.  The presidential aides entered the historic building, walking rather quickly to their first stop of the day: breakfast.  It was meager and yet, no one in Mess underappreciated the meal.   Both aides scarfed down their plates without talking.  After breakfast, Chris and Michael continued on their morning