Lincoln’s assassination forces the Union to throw his Vice President; Andrew Johnson, into the Oval Office. Thus, Johnson inherits all if the problems that Lincoln created. The South is furious. Everyday, innocent people are dying courtesy of a war that is already over. For them, the loss is still fresh in their minds and the dinosaurs that are slaughtering their families are rubbing it in their face. Instead of moving past the war, they are stuck in a constant battle for survival.

It’s 3:00 PM in the southern state of Texas. The town of Bandera is quiet and almost desolate. Anyone here is either at the saloon at the center of town or sitting in a jail cell at the local sheriff’s station. All of the women in the town are enjoying Sunday with their husbands, who; on any other day, would be working at one of the two popular employment areas in the town: the local railroad or the mines. They face a chance of death everyday, but they live their lives as if nothing is ever going to happen to them. Three men at a table in the saloon can be seen playing a game of five finger fillet while downing pint after pint of of whiskey and beer, increasing their risk of losing a finger each time they ask the bartender for another glass. The men can’t help but talk about what has been transpiring over the past few days. “Lincoln’s dead”, one man begins. “That bastard finally got what was coming to him.” “Good riddance if you ask me.”, another man says after nodding his head in agreement to the first man’s comment. “Still doesn’t solve the fuckin’ mess that he made, though. Those monsters that he used to kill our boys are still here, roaming around like free-range chickens. Not to mention, Johnson ain’t gonna be much better of a replacement. All he does is talk. He hasn’t done a damn thing.” The men stop talking as the bartender comes over to give them each another round. What they are doing right now is treason. Whether they like it or not, the CSA is dead. There is no North and South, only the United States of America.

Nevertheless, most people in the South still resent Lincoln. They still blame him for the war and now the dinosaur project. So; as long as the men don’t talk the way they are in a state like Pennsylvania, they probably won’t have to worry about facing the gallows. Andrew Johnson has been receiving letters every day. Some of them are pleas for mercy, some of them are from Union supporters, but many of them are death threats (unsigned, of course, as the people who wrote them would be hunted down and hanged if the receivers of the letters knew who the writers were). He is afraid. He doesn’t know what to do. The nation is still divided, despite the fact that a war that was meant to reunite the country is over and won.

It’s 8:45 PM and the state of Georgia is shrouded in darkness. The entire state is made up of small farm houses, acres of livestock, and gardens of plant life. Marcus Gibson, his wife, and two children are sitting down at the table, having a late dinner after having to go recapture two heads of cattle from a neighbor’s field. Everything on the table is from the Gibson farm, a piece of property that has been in Marcus’ family for three generations. Tonight, dinner consists of lambchops with corn and potatoes. Marcus and his family are discussing the issue that has recently taken hold of their state and others around it. “These things are endangering the lives of innocent people.”, Marcus says. “For what? A war that is already over.” “Lincoln needs to be held accountable.”, Celia; Marcus’ wife, chimes in. “He’s the one who used these beasts to kill our countrymen in a war that never should have had to happen. What he did was unethical and has to be a war crime in some form.” “War is a crime in itself, Celia.”, Marcus says. “Wars are messy, people die, and governments go to any means necessary to end them. We would have done the same thing if we had the means to do so. The problem isn’t that he did it. The problem is that he did it without considering the fact that he may not be able to control his own weapon.”

While the Gibsons discuss the dinosaurs, a pack of Velociraptors is racing towards their field, hunting for their evening feast. The family owns 45 head of cattle, amounting to 22,050 pounds of beef. They were meant to feed the family for the next year, at least. Instead, they would feed 5 33 pound beasts for the next hour. The Velociraptors attack the cows silently and quickly, like a special operations team on a stealth mission. The first thing the cows feel is a huge claw digging into their flesh as their stomachs are ripped open and their internal organs are sprawled out onto the open field while the last thing they feel is the velociraptors’ sharp teeth as the beasts clamp their jaws onto the cow’s skulls.

The Gibson cattle field is now covered in blood. As the family slept, Lincoln’s monsters took away their livelihood in a matter of 60 minutes. Nothing is left of the cows but bones and a few scattered pieces of flesh, barely anything at all. The Velociraptors have had the feast of a lifetime, not stopping in their indulgence until the entire ordeal is over. It’s now 9:00 PM. The Gibsons have been asleep for a half hour, but they are about to receive a rude awakening.

After slaughtering the cows, the Velociraptors are headed towards the house. Somehow, in their effortless massacre, they haven’t awoken the sleeping Gibson family. Suddenly, one of the beasts lets out a loud roar and jumps through the front window on the first floor of the Gibson’s two story house. The others follow suit, breaking through windows and doors, going to any means necessary to get into the house. Marcus Gibson is awoken immediately. He panics, grabbing his Winchester Repeater and shaking Celia to wake her up. “Celia,” he says, “wake up someone’s here.” “Marcus,” Ceilia says, groggily “what the hell is going on.” Just then, she hears the crashing of plates and the opening if cabinets in the kitchen. Without saying another word, Celia runs to her son’s room, grabs him out of it and hides in her daughter’s room; not even waking her. Marcus walks down the hallway to the stairs that will lead him from the second floor to the first floor of his house. He doesn’t even make a sound, careful not to alert the intruder of his presence. He peeks around the corner of the staircase, part of the kitchen clearly in his view. That’s when he sees it. The creature that is wreaking havoc on his kitchen, knocking over pans and plates, is no human being. It’s a Velociraptor, and it is staring him directly in the face.

Marcus Gibson is shivering with fear, barely able to hold his Winchester Repeater. The Velociraptor is looking right at him and hasn’t moved even one step further for the past 10 seconds. Just as he is about to pull the trigger on the Winchester, the beast turns its head and Marcus’ legs are swept out from underneath him. He lets out a ear-piercing scream as he realizes what is happening to him. Another raptor had grabbed him by the leg and was now dragging him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs to the second floor. The last thing Marcus thinks about is his family, clinging to the stair railing for dear life just before the Velociraptors pounce on him and tear him apart.

Marcus Gibson’s death is horrifying. The top of his head is torn off, exposing his brain. His body is ripped in half when the raptors pull him from the stairs. His gun; rendered useless in seconds, now lies on the kitchen floor at the foot of the entrance to the room. His wife and children are still upstairs, hiding in the same room together and hearing the entire ordeal that just occurred. They know now; hearing the Velociraptors walking up the stairs, that Marcus is dead. They will never see his body.The beasts are coming straight for them, sniffing the air to seek out the family’s scent and communicating with one another like a special operations team.

Celia Gibson contemplates jumping out the second story window of her daughter’s room. It’s risky, though. The Velociraptors would most likely hear the noise, catch up to them as they ran into the field outside and hunt Celia and her children down one by one. She realizes that her best chance is to stay here and either hope that the beasts don’t find her and the children or fight them off when they do come.

The Velociraptors are standing in the hallway now, just outside of the door to the room containing Celia and her children. Celia can hear them making calls to each other and sniffing the air, tapping their dagger-like claws on the floor in an effort to communicate. Then, she hears it. One of the beasts has its nose pressed against the door. It has found the Gibsons. It lets out a roar, a very shrill noise like nothing Celia has ever heard, and begins to slam its body into the door in an attempt to bust into the room. Celia is sitting at the back of her daughter’s room just beside the window, hugging her crying son with one hand and holding a Colt revolver in another. Her daughter is still asleep. She knows that if she dies, her daughter and son will die as well. Celia squeezes the handle of the Colt revolver as she hears the Velociraptors slam into the door one last time.

The door crashes open, exposing the family’s hiding place. The first Velociraptor through the door is shot in the chest, downing the beast but not killing it. The rest of the Velociraptors are too quick. Celia Gibson shoots the remaining five rounds in the revolver as quickly as possible, screaming in anger just before one of the beasts jumps on her and engulfs her head in it’s mouth.

The children try to run, traumatized by the death of their mother. They get to the end of the hallway before the raptors catch up to them and end their lives as quickly as they did their parents. By 9:25 PM, the entire Gibson household has been laid to waste. An entire family and their livestock has been massacred by Lincoln’s monsters, turned into a meal for the beasts. This will serve as fuel to the fire that is already raging in the South.