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

route.
    Their game faces were on and they were busy.  They walked with purpose; at least, that’s how it felt to Michael.  Chris diverted off the path and met up with Jameson, the Presidential Secretary.
    “Jameson.  Calls.” It was more a command than a question.  And, her speech was significantly sped up.
    “Christine.  Care package from Food Aid Rite and NATO.  Largest shipment yet.  Delivered via fourteen drops.…” Jameson almost seemed to be trying to speak faster than Chris who was writing notes in incredible tiny shorthand giving a curt nod periodically.
    “…Two every hours over course of day: 1.4 million pounds of beans, rice, oats, MRE’s, dirt and seeds.”
    “Next.” Chris was had barely let Jameson finish one call before goading him onto the next.
    “Joint Chiefs of Staff, primarily General Griffith of the Marine Corps to present update on Operation Stance at 10am.
    “Next.”
    “Report from Olson of Omaha, Nebraska…”
    “I got it.” Chris interrupted, talking unreasonably fast “Shot Michael the email last night.  He’s up to speed.  Next.”
    “The meeting has been moved to 12.  Lunch is at 1:30 pm today.  Don’t be late.”
    “Never. Next.”
    “Here’s the list of callbacks.  Done.” Their morning ritual was quite the sight.  Chris with her list of callbacks left to meet up with Michael.  He had gone to the other secretary for letters, emails, and faxes.  When Chris found him, he was putting the finishing touches on the instant coffee.  Neither of them felt bad because it wasn’t real food.
    Chris and Michael exchanged notes, and brainstormed quickly, finding solutions for each issue.  It didn’t take long.  They spent a few minutes developing a more efficient plan to get the Food Aid Rite shipment unloaded and redistributed.  For the remainder of their time, they sat patiently, waiting for the door to open.  Ever since it happened, President Rosenthird was up early, making plans, and coordinating with research facilities, in an effort to reverse the crop degeneration they experienced as a result of Crop-Dust.
    The Crop-Dust was the single event in history that had the potential to bring the world superpower to its knees.  It was a one-way trip for the pilots crossing into the United States forbidden airspace.  Even after six months, still no government or radical group took responsibility for it. Everyone denied any involvement whatsoever.  The families were most likely evacuated and given name changes along with matching documents.
    The planes were, of course, intercepted rather quickly, within 20 minutes of breaching sovereign airspace but not before they released an unknown substance into the air.  One by one, the planes were shot down.  The threat was neutralized and victory ensued.  People were made into heroes and heroes celebrated that night.  They feasted.  They drank.  They told the story again and again and again.  It was observed that an unknown substance had been released from the planes and so people waited for the plagues and mutations.  But, nothing happened.
    Fast forward four months and farmers complained that climate change was responsible for the low yielding harvest.  Two months after that everyone complained that there was not enough food.  And two months after that, they all wailed.
    A portion of the military was used to protect persons of import.  The rest kept the peace as best as they could.  The price of food rose steadily as it became scarcer and scarcer.  But when it doubled, the looting and rioting began.  People did their best to defend themselves, their homes and their businesses from mobs and gangs.  There were historic numbers in layoffs, murders and suicides. 
    Some people still went to work at packaging plants.   Others volunteered to help at the military, state, and federal level or at non-profits.  Bigger cities instituted martial law only as protection for the citizens from the citizens but the