Trump Daddy Saves the World

Chapter Eleven

Trump groaned out as his hands shook. He tried to lengthen his whole body, tried to stretch out into the air as far as possible, but that was the max his body would will itself to go. Still, he was short by a foot.

The sky was darkening fast. Already there were mixtures of reds, yellows, and purples. If it were the old world, it would've been beautiful. People would stop to gaze at it, their eyes appreciating the night sky more than the daytime.

But this wasn't the old world anymore. Night was no longer peaceful. Sunsets didn't comfort you anymore. You'd be nothing but a puddle of anxiety and dread, knowing you'd be an open meal to every zombie in the area, smack-dab in the middle of pitch black darkness.

That's how Trump felt, anyway. It's what pushed him to try to push farther, even though he already knew he couldn't reach. He pulled back again, out of breath.

He sighed out into the air, wiping the sweat off his brow. He was going to have to jump. He didn't want to, but he was going to. It was loud, obvious, and not at all what he had for a stealthy entrance into the mansion, but it was the only idea thrumming through his pea-brain.

"I got this." He re-assured himself, the different muscles in his body tensing. He shook out his limbs for good luck. "I totally got this."

His eyes squinted at the distance. It was small but...was it getting larger? It kinda looked like it was.

"No." He shooked his head, lightly smacking his cheeks. "Don't psyche yourself out. Just do it. On the count of one...two...thr–"

His boots left the tree. His stomach plumetted out as he felt nothing but air beneath him, his body leaping like mario in slow motion. His stomach did two more flip flops and he could see himself fall down.

I'm not gonna make it. I'm not go– His hands grappeled onto the balcony railing, the harsh landing skinning his palms. His boots slipped before he desperately found his footing, his entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

A harsh breath left him. He wanted to hold still and wait if anybody heard him, but if he didn't get himself completely over that ledge, then he was going to fall off.

He grunted as he swung himself over. All of his stuff was left behind in the tree, ditched at the top, entwined in some branches just in case he was caught. He didn't think Biden would intentionally harm him—let's be real, the man was weak as fuck—but it was better safe than sorry if he was caught by one of his guards.

Really just depends on who they were, though. Fingers crossed it wasn't somebody beefy. That would make a bad ending for him.

Trump tried the handle. It clicked open, the door creaking slightly.

The room inside was empty and dark. Trump stood in the doorway a little confused. The room was completely empty. Not a single piece of furniture stood inside of it. There were no lights, too.

Weird. Trump thought. Extremely weird. But, as the gears turned in his head, he could maybe understand why it was that way. If there weren't very many people living in the mansion, then why stock all of the rooms? It was the apocalypse. The supplies weren't exactly endless. He definitely wouldn't want useable furniture rotting away in an unused, unlived room.

He closed the balcony door behind him. There were two doors in the room. One opened, leading to a completely stripped bare bathroom. The other, he cracked open. Beyond it was a lowly-lit hallway.

Why the fuck was the entire place so dark?

He tried to keep as close to the walls as possible, trying to move along in the shadows. With every creak of the wood, he couldn't help but cringe inwardly.

The hallway was long. There were doors lining it. Every time he passed one, he had to stop himself from opening it. He didn't know who or what was behind it. Although, he didn't exactly know what he was looking for either.

Supplies, right? That was the original plan. Supplies and a room to secretly stay in for the night. It was already too late for him to get back to the tree for his stuff, but he could still plant himself in an empty room and explore in the morning.

He paused in his tracks. That was a good idea. Better than whatever the fuck he was currently doing. Immediately he started back-tracking, tiptoing his way back to the balcony room. He found it and went inside, locking both doors before he slumped down on the floor.

He may not have a bed, but he could sleep with the piece of mind that no zombies were going to get him in the middle of the night. That was just as good as a dusty-ol' mattress.

He had a working toilet, too. Way better than digging a shit-hole one hundred feet away from camp.

His eyelids fluttered as sleep lulled at him. He was staring at the ceiling, his arms tucked behind his head, the floor supporting his back quite nicely. Although a little cold, he could definitely get used to it.

For the first time in several nights, he was able to let sleep overtake him completely.

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.

.

.

.

.

"Move a muscle and I'm blowing your head off."

Trump's eyes shot open. The inside barrell of a gun greeted him, along with Joe Biden's stern glare.

"How'd you get in here?" Biden asked him.

"The balcony door." Trump replied. He went to lift his hand, but Biden pushed the gun closer to his face.

"I'm not kidding. I will blow your head off."

Trump sighed out through his nose, his mouth set into a line as he stared Biden down. "You're really gonna do it? You're gonna blow my head off because I stayed one night in your mansion?"

The answer was immediate. "Yes."

But then he back-tracked. "Unless..." He started, his eyes wandering down Trump's body.

Trump's stomach fluttered. His brow quirked a little. "Unless...?" He echoed.

"Unless you and I sleep together."

_____________

Author's Note:

For some reason my Google Docs says that this chapter is 905 words, but Wattpad says it's 883. SOMEBODY IS LYING. I don't really know who's wrong here, but I'm not counting so it's whatever.

Am I happy with this chapter? NO. I was going to write for much, much, longer during my work shift, but guess what? I didn't. I spent that time drawing and going on Tiktok (because of course I did). 

If there's one thing I SO DESPERATELY wanna do later today, it's write. I've been able to write at least 1k words a day, but it's not enough for me. My obsessive little brain wants to write 10k+ words a day.

On another note, I found a little note in my docs saying that this fic is going to be 20k words long....it's not going to be. I think I'm already at around 11k words and we haven't even gotten to the really good parts yet...sooooooooo yeah.

Any who, don't forget to vote and comment. 

I'll be seeing you lovelies later.

(or not)

hehehhehehhehe.