BLACK PRESIDENT- Chapter 79. Do you believe in premonitions? Luckily President Little did.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/hannahdobro/people-correctly-predicting-the-future

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

Two nights before he was scheduled to go home from the hospital, John Little awoke around 3 AM with a terrible premonition. In his mind he saw himself dead, half blown apart by an explosion of some kind. In the vision, dream, or whatever it had been, he lay in the same hospital bed as now, when the entire room exploded around him. He had been jolted awake to the sensation of his face being seared, other body parts ripped away. Because the dream experience had been so real, so intense, he found himself instantly acting on the jarring reverie, by summoning in his entire security team. Al entered the room first, with three other agents trailing.

“Al, I need you and the hospital staff to move me out of this room at once. I want to be several floors lower and closer to the main entrance, around the front of the building.”

Al hardly got the words out, “But Sir...” before John Little rotated his body around so his feet hit the floor, stood up, shifted his hands to the IV on the cart and started rolling toward the door.“OK, Mr. President. I’ll call ahead and tell them to prepare another suite.”

By 3:15 AM, John Little, the President of the United States, was re-situated in a room almost half a block away inside the hospital. It wasn’t unusual for an institution like Washington Memorial to cover several blocks of a city. Just as soon as he was successfully installed, he ordered the hospital to then evacuate all the patients residing in his old wing. Remembering what Rudy had said about how his laid-back style differed from his Presidential brother, John made an extra effort to be outspoken, giving direct orders instead of asking questions or hemming and hawing. From then on, he told himself, he’d be assertive.

“I need every single person out of that section of the hospital immediately. That means even if some must be temporarily housed in the hallways. In any case, I want them on this side of the building. This is a Presidential Order. And it needs to be carried out pronto. Right now!” No one, it seemed, doubted his authority, even though he wouldn’t be acting President for a couple more days.

By 4:00 AM the entire wing was clear.

At exactly 5:30 AM a Stinger missile slammed into the room where the President had spent four weeks recuperating. The entire wing was demolished, instantly transforming five hospital floors and their contents into piles of shredded debris, much dropping into the streets below.

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