'Where are you? Are you safe?'
My husband's voice is wavering,
barely
controlling his panic.
'I'm okay, I'm okay. I've made it to the embassy.
I'm safe for now,' I say, trying to reassure
him. 'We've been told there's a chopper
coming at 4pm, local
time.'
'Jennifer', he cries, 'please be...' but the telephone line goes dead
as a huge
blast
from the street outside, shatters
the
windows and sends
glass flying across the room. I am blown
off my feet and crash heavily into a desk. There is dust and screaming.
Some people around me have cuts and grazes.
The rebel forces are halfway across the city and the army has almost completely surrendered. Many of the soldiers have joined the rebels and I fear the situation will only get worse before it gets better. I hope that chopper arrives on time as it's my only hope to escape the chaos and mayhem, my only lifeline. I only just made it through the embassy gates a couple of hours ago, after a desperate run across the city. All foreigners are targets of the people's anger and I saw many unfortunate people killed around me. The war has been raging for six months and now the country lies in ruins.
How did it happen? How did this great country destroy itself? It all started with the financial crisis. millions of people lost their homes and jobs. Across the country, people became angry with the government for not doing enough to help them. There was civil unrest and then at one protest march, six people were shot dead. This was the spark for widespread disturbances and rioting in every city. The violence spread and spread, the police lost control, the army lost control, the government fell.
The helicopter arrives at 4pm and I am lucky to get a seat. We take off and fly over the burning city towards the main airport. The main airport is still controlled by the army and I only hope I can get a flight back to London, back to safety, back to civilisation. As I look out of the window, through the smoke and fires, I see far below me the smouldering ruins of the White House.