Continued

The stairwell was a little cooler and more strongly built, but it was still a scene of death. By chance a cop had been visiting the surgery, he was now lying face down on the floor, holstered gun by his side. Dave pocketed the weapon, you just never know when such a thing might come in useful. Running down the stairs, he got to the parking level. All the lights were out, and his Zippo didn't cast much gleam, but he managed to find his Harley. For Dave, the second half of the twentieth century had been a time of technological regress. He had always shunned electric starter motors, and now was his vindication. EMP would have taken out all the other vehicles. He kicked the stick, and his pride and joy roared to life. Old faithful, just like the geyser. His headlights glared , and revealed a probable homosexual slumped in a dead Prius just opposite. "Would it kill you to buy American?" Dave muttered under his breath.

Time was short, but Christian charity is a wonderful thing, and even now our hero was moved to render whatever assistance he could. He dismounted, and moved cautiously to the traitor's pathetic excuse for a car. Through the window, Dave could see "The New York Times" in the likely sodomite's lap. The headline proclaimed "Health-Care passed through House-Senate reconciliation: 53 senators can't be wrong!" A fitting epitaph for the noble American experiment. That must be why the federal government dropped the nuke! Dave realized in a flash.

The near-certain fairy stirred. He was half-conscious, and badly burnt but babbling. "Change, change we can believe in. I voted for change!" "Yeah, and how's that working out for you friend?" Dave asked quietly? The fancy-boy opened his black, soulless eyes, and saw the conservative. He started to laugh. "Well I'm done for", he rasped, "but at least you'll die too, even if you can get out of here. Cancer from this bomb's radiation will finish you off, Obamacare 'll make sure of that." His face seemed to be overwhelmed by pain from his burns for a minute, but he whispered, "The America you knew is already over. We've won!"

At this Dave had to laugh too. There was really nothing else to do. He laughed big, hearty gaffaws. The dry, analytical part of his mind, warned him there was a tinge of hysteria in his voice, but he couldn't help it. "Cancer," he shrieked, "Cancer from the bomb! Well just tell that radiation to get in line!" Dave took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit up. The dull, familiar pain in his chest was beginning to burn again. "I'm already dying of lung cancer! Friend, when it comes time to reap the soul from my body, only horseman that's gonna do it's gonna be the Marlborough man!"

The now-confirmed sapphic had lapsed again into unconsciousness, and clearly he wasn't going to make it. Dave swung his legs over the saddle and roared off into the smoke.