I sat back down and wrung my hands around the handle of the cricket bat. My palms were sweating and I wiped them on my pants. Some other women sat and began preparing themselves also. A few others stood uneasily and watched as we approached.
The back hatch popped open and I spotted the two other helicopters trailing us. Our craft shifted and the women who continued to stand thought better than to risk being pitched out the open door and took their seats.
Megan shouted, “We’re descending!”
My impulse was to peer out the window and take in the situation instead of blindly running out into it but I was terrified of the open door. Megan left her position at the front and made her way toward the door, gripping some safety straps hanging from the wall of the craft.
She turned to face us with her baseball bat. “When you exit the vehicle keep your heads down against the air current!” She pointedly looked at Melissa. “Hayward! Stick close to me!” To everyone she said, “We’re taking the west wing!”
We’d been over our group’s instructions a hundred times. Megan was reaffirming our hopes the signal was being broadcast from the Briefing Room. The plan was for each copter’s occupants to head in a different direction and sweep the place clean and lock it down if at all possible.
Megan turned back to the open door. The front of the White House came into view as we descended. It wasn’t until the craft was on the ground that I took in the thirty or forty men standing between us and the front entrance to the White House. Most of them stared at us dumbfounded. They were in different states of dress and a handful of them thrust their hips into the open air as if a pussy was going to land on their cocks at any moment and complete their lustful interaction. One man masturbated furiously while only wearing a pair of black socks and penny loafers and, I couldn’t be certain, but thought he looked like the Attorney General.
The moment the helicopter hit the ground Melissa was up and hustling toward Megan with her hockey stick and Megan was shouting for us to move. None of us hesitated. I kept my head down like Megan instructed, the helicopter’s propellers rotating as we exited. The men began to advance on us as soon as they realized we were females. Their catcalls and remarks were drowned out by the noise of the aircraft’s winding down. The rest of us flanked Megan and Melissa, hitting the men where it hurt, and dropping them like flies. Women from the other helicopters joined us and we cleared the area in less than a minute.
Megan stormed up the steps, shouting for us to keep moving. Melissa was directly behind her and we all filed in through the front entrance and into the most gut wrenching scene I’d ever encountered. There were naked women bound with all types of apparatus and piled everywhere. Some of them were alive. Most of them were dead. The walls were stacked with mountains of abused bodies, the floor nearly covered in flesh. Several of the women, whether alive or not, were being defiled by men. It was nearly impossible to take a step without stepping on a body—dead and alive, male and female.
Some of the officers began to help the living women. One of our recruits began to untie a woman near me who was alive. A naked man fucking a corpse nearby noticed her and stopped mid-thrust.
The man reached for the woman in fatigues. He stumbled and crawled over bodies as he made his way to her and said, “I may not go down in history but I’ll go down on you.”
I stepped on something squishy and almost rolled my ankle as I charged at him. I swung the cricket bat and made contact with his head. He fell on his back and I hit his balls. Another man advanced toward the helping officer and I struck his testicles. He fell forward on the woman the officer was struggling to untie.
Megan shouted, “Don’t help them! Sweep the area first! Help later!” She turned and tried to make her way through the bodies and out of the receiving room.
Melissa was in a state of panic and stared down at the ground, horrified at possibly stepping on someone alive. Megan turned to Melissa and shouted at her to follow. A man in a business suit emerged from behind a stack of corpses. He’d unzipped his fly and exposed his erect penis. His cock and the front of his pants were covered in what I could only assume was an accumulative amount of body fluids and blood.
He said, “I’m not a family man but would you like to call me Daddy later?”
Melissa noticed him and screamed. She couldn’t take her terrified eyes off him and tripped as she tried to head toward Megan. She fell onto several bodies. I bolted toward her. Megan doubled back and grabbed Melissa under her shoulders to lift her to her feet.
I let my empathy fall away for the women in distress and bounded over the bodies as if I were in a bouncy castle, nearly knocking some of the stunned, helping, or horrified recruits down in the process. I swung my weapon up and hit the man in his filthy penis before he could reach the other two.
Melissa was back on her feet. And Megan was yelling at the women who’d lost the plot. Some of them snapped out of it and started for the hall, swinging their weapons to fend off any men. A hand popped out of a pile of bodies and grabbed one officer’s ankle.
I was the one who shouted at Megan, “We have to keep going! Fuck them!”
Megan and Melissa and I proceeded into the hallway and made a left. The scene was the same everywhere. Bodies and bodies and bodies. The three of us disregarded the people we stepped on. Men, mostly clean cut and older, dominated the hall we took.
A naked saggy skinned man with low hanging balls pulled himself from the anus of a bloated female corpse he’d bent over a pile of bodies. He turned to us as we approached him and said, “You look fiscally responsible. You wanna save some money by coming home with me?”
Megan gave a battle cry when she smashed his nuts back to their proper place.
A husky man in a pair of men’s dirty briefs emerged from the open door of a room on his hands and knees and began to crawl toward us. He said, “I’m wasted but the condom in my pocket doesn’t have to be.”
Melissa kicked the crawler in the face.
Megan said, “It’s not far!”
The three of us began to dash down the hall as fast as we could, taking out men emerging from the rooms or those dislodging themselves from the sexual acts they were performing in the hallway. The bodies got deeper as we went. I spotted the sign for the West Wing above the doorway lined with metal detectors.
Melissa made easy work of a few men who’d chosen to lie down on the mountain of bodies and fuck any crevice available. The bend of her hockey stick worked better for men in this position. The men weren’t aware of us anymore at this point. They were so tied up in or concentrating on their goal it didn’t matter there was fresh meat. They were fucking and fucking and fucking whatever stationary orifice or crevice they’d found.
Suddenly the three of us heard it at the same time and we came to a halt, listening. It was the nasally, slightly whiny, harsh New York accent of the President. Eunice and a couple other women from our crew were catching up to us, fighting off some men who’d followed them down the hallway.
Megan pointed at an open door. The floor within the room was clear of any bodies. We made our way toward the room. I harshly whispered to Eunice to get her attention and pointed to the door we were entering before following Megan and Melissa in.
The room was brightly lit and housed an enormous wooden table lined with posh leather chairs. The President sat at the head of the table at the other end of the room. He was spewing his misogynistic nonsense with his head tilted at a peculiar angle. The Vice President stood to his side, stark naked. The Vice President held the skin folds of the President’s aged neck and kept trying to insert his penis into the makeshift vagina.