FEMA Camp Parent Trap

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I have no reference articles or sources to back this up. I just feel like writing out of the blue. This is entirely personal conjecture. My wife and I were talking about how we would retrieve our Down's syndrome son from school in the event of a disaster, martial law, act of war or terrorism, or any other type of threat.

It occurred to us that FEMA, or any other agency, for that matter, could bus school children to an undisclosed, so-called safe location without prior notice to parents, and then claim that the children were moved for safety reasons due to... [insert relevant government B.S. excuse].

Imagine going happily through your day, when say, around noon or early afternoon, your phone rings.

"Hello, Mrs. Parent. This is the school calling to inform you that FEMA has bused your children to a safe location due to an unexpected event on or near school property that would have placed the children in imminent danger. Due to the keen foresight and quick response of our federal government, and the full cooperation of our school staff, we can assure you that your children are safely relocated. Please contact us for directions to the location where you may travel to pick up your children. You will need to contact us to get a security code that you will present at the location. Your security code will identify you as the parent or legal guardian noted on school records as having authorization to pick up your children. Thank you for your prompt and complete cooperation. Your children are safe." Click.

What the school staff and government liaisons deliberately fail to mention is the fact that as soon as you arrive to retrieve your children, you are escorted into a waiting area within the FEMA camp. You endure hours of red tape and excuses as to why "processing" takes so long and how it is all for the security of your children and for your own good. The day drags into night. You grow tired, worried, angry.

A pair of burly, expressionless security guards wearing black tactical uniforms sporting a conspicuous lack of United States insignia address you in heavy foreign accents. They demand any Concealed-carry permits and any firearms, bladed weapons, and aerosol sprays you may be carrying or have in your vehicle. They tell you they are collecting all such items for "safe keeping" but they offer you no tags or other means of identifying and retrieving your items. They look at a printed list. You assume it is a copy of some type of registry. You suppose these guys already know whether or not you own a gun or have a permit to carry one.

You want to see your kids, so you comply, reluctantly. The guards jot down a note in the margin next to your name and place a colored sticker next to your name. You cannot see what they write. You can only guess that the red sticker indicates you are a potential problem to them.

You are offered a cot and food, water, shower facilities, and hygiene products to make your extended stay as comfortable as possible, all at no charge to you. A week goes by. You are permitted to rejoin your children. They are released from preliminary quarantine and psychological evaluation, or whatever other load of colon-fill the guys in charge can think up. None of you are allowed to go to your vehicles or walk outside the designated "guest" areas. For your safety, of course.

Weeks pass. On-site Common Core schools have enrolled your children.

Rumors circulate about adults and teens attempting to venture beyond the perimeter. Some of your fellow parents have been missing for days. A police dog tracks blood across a concrete floor. You realize you are in a concentration camp and no one intends to let you or your children out. Smoke from the incinerators is not just from burning trash. There is no cemetery on site.

You go for a stroll, contemplating the overall situation. You begin to notice things that, in the heat of your worry over the initial safety of your children, you had overlooked or shoved to the back of your mind.

But, now you have to mull it over. Adult re-education centers promise you the moon, and then threaten you with doom if you resist or manifest independent thought. You discover that the airtight assembly hall, the one that serves as a designated storm shelter, doubles as a gas chamber. You notice an aerial photo of the Denver International Airport hanging on a wall in one of the administration buildings. Someone had forgotten to close the blinds. The runway pattern in the photo stands out with unmistakable clarity. It is a Swastika.

And the roads running around and through a portion of the inner airport grounds trace out what looks like the face of an alien. Or is it the face of a demon, to be deliberately mistaken for an alien? You start thinking about Dulce, New Mexico, human hybridization, and so forth, but then you realize you digress from the task at hand.

You kneel beside a tree and pray. Normally you pray silently, but the sense of urgency and desperation drives you to petition God openly. The act of praying aloud in present surroundings brings to your mind the Bible story about Daniel in the lion den.

Your courage to pray overcomes your embarrassment about being tricked into coming here in the first place. But, what could you do? They have your kids.

You cringe as you realize the government saved millions of dollars and hundreds of thousands of man-hours by simply busing your kids here directly from school, and then fooling you into traveling here at your own expense. You walked right into the trap.

You make escaping with your children your mission in life. You know if you get caught, praying or escaping, you will be executed. Your kids will be marked for re-indoctrination, or worse. You remember a scriptural story about two ancient American prophets, named Alma and Amulek, and that gives you hope for the plight of your children, in the eternal perspective.

You also know that if you are killed, you will die with a clear conscience because you did not vote for that evil monkey that occupies 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, DC. Or is it 2700 Woods Fork Road, Highlandville, Missouri 65669?