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Josh and Scott are playing hopscotch in the scorched fields of what used to
be Camp David, the presidental vacation retreat. Dark clouds line the sky. The only reason the two could even see was it was straight noon. Stuggling green trees poke up through the miles of ash that was once a thriving forest. To the right is some structures that used to be Bill Clinton's sex pad and dope growing fields. The President doesn't smoke just any dope bought off a street corner. Anywho, Scott is jumping up and down really hard to clear the voices out of his head (wouldn't you have voices if you'd seen all of humanity go poof?) and something clicks underneath him. Metal panels fling up. Gears roar. Josh is tossed head over heels and lands face-first on what used to be the Presidental outhouse. Only space-age polymers that flexed saved him from injury. Scott and Josh, after random screaming, look at the huge stars-shaped hole in the ground. Green metal stairs lead down to a shadowed platform in front of a huge bank-vault type door. And in the door itself is a screen. Josh ventures down and looks at the screen. An unshaved face on the monitor blinks. "Holy shit!" he says. "People? PEOPLE!" "Dude." Josh says as Scott upstairs continues telling the voices to go away. "Who are you? Who is down there?"
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4/27/2011 12:39:53 PM
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