by Anna Dove
“The mighty engines of our society and economy have ground to a halt, our cities are morgues, our rural land cannot bear the weight of all who are fleeing to it. We have been tossed back two hundred years in time, and find ourselves lost. What world will our children inherit? Will they be taught that America was a great land, but that it died young? Will we be known as the greatest failed experiment? Not if I can help it; not while have breath in my lungs and strength in my body! I have the experience and the fortitude to push these levers forward again, full speed ahead so that the engines engage and barrel on like they had never been stopped.
“My fellow citizens! I am running today to offer my leadership in pulling this country back from the brink of the grave over which it totters precariously. I know that we have been dealt a blow. We have been broken, but we are not yet defeated. We are not yet dead. We have not yet surrendered, and we must rally to save our nation. Let this be our finest hour. Let us dare to do our duties. I am willing to put my head in the lion’s mouth, and risk my life, because I know that under the leadership of myself and those whom I elect to serve closely with me, we are all capable of what we now must do, which is to become what we were before, and what we will be going forward, a model of liberty, equality, freedom, and justice, a global leader and a land where peace and prosperity reign!” He raised his hand in the air, with two fingers in a brazen Churchillian V.
The journalists’ cameras, which had been clicking throughout the speech, now exploded in clicks, audible for only half a second before wild cheers and clapping thundered throughout the room. Haley smiled as the Senator stood proudly, his hand in the air with the century-old symbol of defiance. She glanced at her friends, and then her gaze fell to the end of the row.
Adela Gilman’s aide sat quietly, his eyes fixed on the Senator. His black hair was swept back from his face and slicked towards the nape of his neck. He sat very still, an obvious contrast to the cheering and clapping around him. Presently, he got up, stuck his hands in his pockets, and left.
A cold chill crept up the back of Haley’s neck. There was something so ominous about that man. They were still not safe--even protected by the fact that the Senator was publicly running against Adela Gilman, there was no guarantee that she would regard the Senator or his team as protected from violence. Her heartbeat quickened.
The Senator had stepped down and was beginning to mingle with the journalists, who flocked him like hungry birds. Feeling uneasy, Haley decided to take a walk outside for some fresh air. She notified Elizabeth and Carlos and then made her way to the back of the room and through the foyer that opened to the outside.
Haley shut the door behind her quietly, and walked past the fountain and into the garden. Reaching the grass, she kicked off her shoes to the side of the path and continued away from the ballroom, running. Her throat felt dry and parched. Her head spun and she flew past great overgrown shrubbery, and she found herself in a little meadow surrounded by maple trees, the leaves of which glimmered ever so faintly in the light of the moon.
“Haley?”
She started and spun around. There, emerging from the end of the path, was James Landon.
“James. I just wanted to get a breath of fresh air.” She stood still and he came to her side, both facing the maples.
“Me too. I’m sorry for startling you. Are you alright?” He said, glancing at her before looking away again. How austere he was, she thought.
‘I’m alright,” she responded. “I guess I was a little overwhelmed in there. I was just thinking...what they are capable of...and if they find out that we know...I wasn’t scared, you know, when the attack happened. I behaved very rationally and acted in such a collected manner, after it all happened. I did exactly what needed to be done, and I was very brave. I know I’m brave. I know I react well when a crisis arises. But what I cannot handle is the waiting...the waiting, and the knowing that if they are capable of orchestrating a nuclear attack on a country, how much pain they could inflict on individuals...that’s what scares me. And then I think--what about my family? What if they know it’s me, and they use my family? What if they hurt my family, James?” Her breaths caught in her throat and she raised her hands to her face.
Landon faced her, and reaching out, rested his hand gently on her shoulder. Instinctively she felt the weight and for a moment, was strangely comforted.
“Haley,” he said, and his tone was so kind. “It will do no good to worry. All that one man, or one woman, can do, is to do their very best to live with honor and integrity, and to serve other people. We are not in control of what happens to the others in our lives. All we can do is to hold fast to hope, to pray, and to fight for justice and for peace. We cannot bear the burdens of other lives. We can serve others, but if we cling too fast to controlling the fates of our families and friends, we will drive ourselves crazy. You do realize that, yes?”
Haley clasped her hands and looked up at the stars, taking in the expanse of the dome above her. “I realize it, but every bone in my body wants otherwise.”
“Well, quite frankly, that is because you love them,” continued Landon quietly. “When you love someone, you would do anything to save them.”
Her gaze rested on his face, searching his expression. Still he was reserved, austere, but there was a depth that she had not before noticed. His brown eyes met hers.
“Yes, you’re right,” she agreed softly, and suddenly she dropped her gaze. He took his hand from her shoulder.
“Do you think we will win, James?”
“The election?”
“No, not necessarily--I mean, do you think we will win?”
“Honestly, I...I don’t know, Haley.”
A moment of silence rested. A cool September breeze blew, rustling the tops of the trees.
“Let’s talk about something else, okay?” he said all of a sudden, and chuckled. “Tell me, when the power comes back on in a few years, what is the first thing that you will do?” he smiled at her.
“I will watch my favorite movie. It’s a silly one, but I used to watch it with my best girlfriends. We would have popcorn and red wine and watch it at least once a month.”
“Which movie?” he questioned, nodding approvingly.
“‘A Night in Rome’.”
“Oh, that’s a terrible movie,” he laughed. His face was pleasant when he laughed.
“I know,” agreed Haley, smiling, “but it always ends up so nicely and it’s a classical romance. We used to all watch ‘The Bachelor’ and ‘The Bachelorette’ before it was cut from TV. Our guilty pleasures.”
“Yes, I suppose everyone has those.”
“Well, what’s yours?” she rejoined, looking up at him.
“Hm.” he paused, and then grinned. “Tiramisu.”
“Ha!”
“Yes, tiramisu. I can’t say no to it. There was a place on H Street that had the absolute best version. Must have imported the recipe straight from their Italian grandmother or something.” He looked out over the meadow.
“I’ll have to go back,” he continued, “when the power is on. I’ll have to eat that tiramisu again.”
A nagging feeling crept horribly in the pit of Haley’s stomach, and all of a sudden tears welled into her eyes. She had been working so hard, living out of such necessity, and had been operating under so much constant adrenaline, that until now she had not had the time or space to consider the true gravity of her situation. Tonight it loomed like a giant, and although the conversation was pleasant, she could not shake the dread feeling. Landon glanced at her as she remained silent, and saw the grave expression on her face.
“Tonight is slow, isn’t it?” he said. “There has been time to think about all the things that could potentially go wrong.”
Haley nodded, and wrapped her arms about herself. She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“A little.”
Raising his shoulder, he slipped his suit coat off and stepped directly in front of her, face to face.
He was very near, and all of a sudden she was acutely aware of his closeness and the small space between them. Reaching around her, he draped the cloak kindly about her shoulders, taking painstaking care to make sure it stayed. It lay heavy on her shoulders. His motions slowed, and the two found themselves quite still, barely inches apart. She raised her eyes and found that his were gazing upon her face, and there was the most genuine, caring expression in their depths. There was something steadfast and trustworthy that drew her to him.
“Haley!”
Elizabeth was running towards her, barefoot in the grass. Haley, caught off guard, turned and stepped towards her friend. Elizabeth reached them and stumbled, almost falling. Haley caught her, and Elizabeth clutched Haley’s arm. Haley’s heart sank as she instantly read the fear on her friend’s face, which was pale and beaded with sweat.
“He’s gone, Carlos is gone, and I think they’ve taken him,” Elizabeth burst out, and her throat choked in a sob and her eyes filled with tears. “He said he was going to take a quick walk too and clear his head, and he went in the direction of the Capitol, and he hasn’t come back. He left an hour ago, and I’ve been waiting, and he hasn’t returned, and I tried to find you but I couldn’t, and I tried to tell myself that it was fine, but then I thought, they know he was sleeping with her, they suspect he may have knowledge of it all…” she broke off, as her throat tightened. “Haley, no one is safe,” she managed. “She’s a monster.”
Haley looked around them, at the dark bushes and shrubbery, and took Elizabeth by the arm.
“Come inside,” she said, and James followed them.
They sought out the Senator, and relayed what had happened to him, and his face fell as he frowned gravely and promised to look into the disappearance.
Eight days later, Haley and Elizabeth were at home in Arlington when they received a letter, with no return address. Haley knew it was from the Senator when she saw the handwriting. It simply read:
Carlos is dead.
I recommend that you stay in my house.
Her hands trembled, and she tore up the paper. That night, Haley and Elizabeth packed two backpacks with clothes, strapped handguns to their belts, and bicycled to the Senator’s house, where they did not leave unless accompanied by Landon or the Senator.
24. A Guest
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
In the Senator’s house there was a peculiar window in the living room, with nine panes made from thick, opaque glass. The sunlight fell through this window strangely, not with the usual clarity but with a soft mellow quality.
Haley sat by this window, her eyes on the ground where the light fell in nine little squares. Her eyes glazed; she had cried and cried until the tears ran dry, and now nothing was left except to watch the nine little squares as they slowly inches across the floor with the rising and setting of the sun.
Carlos had been dead for thirteen days.
She could not mentally grasp the reality of this fact. A cognitive dissonance separated the images of Carlos in her mind from the truths of the current moment. He was not dead, he was just not present with her. His warmth as they lay next to each other in the boat. His smile as they sat around the fire. He could not be gone.
She pictured him standing on the little squares of sunlight.
“What’s wrong, Haley?” He asked, his face inquisitive.
“Nothing—I just have been having such awful dreams.”
“You and I both.”
“You too?” she asked
“Horrible. I dream that we are all separated, and then one by one, they find us. But even after we’re dead, it gets worse. You see, no one is there to stop this nightmare. The country will fall.”
“Haley, it’s just a dream.”
Haley started as another voice entered the conversation, and looking up she saw James Landon kneeling by her side. He laid a hand on her shoulder. Her face drooped and her eyelids closed. She felt his other hand taking hers.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the grandfather clock ticking unceremoniously on the wall.
“Come out with me,” he said after a while. “I’m going to get groceries. You should come with me for some fresh air.”
He pulled on her elbow gently, and she stood with him. Tucking her arm through his, they went out to the front porch. The air was warm for September and the sun beat down hotly on Haley’s face. She raised her countenance to its light.
They made their way down the street to the grocery market, Landon dutifully keeping watch around them.
Bread, sliced. Milk, in glass jars, stored in buckets of ice. Vegetables, fresh from northern Virginia farms. Landon took several zucchini and a head of romaine, and handed Haley a jar of milk to hold. He paid in cash, and they walked towards the exit.
As they approached the door, a tall, thin man entered, and stopped in his tracks at the sight of them.
“Jack!” exclaimed Haley, and ran to him, embracing him with the milk still clutched in her hand. She clung to him, and he wrapped his arms around her tenderly.
“Haley,” he said quietly, in a calm tone. “It is so wonderful to see you.”
“I was afraid—I was afraid that you…”
“Shh,” said Jack, his eyes darting around the market. “Let’s go out into the street.”
The three entered into the bright sunny street, and Haley introduced the men to each other. Jack, she explained, had wandered into the encampment where she had stayed after the attack. He was on their side. He had joined her and Elizabeth and Carlos—and Haley broke off her sentence, as the memories of her friend overcame her again.
“Haley?” asked Jack, as he watched her lose her focus and become lost in thought.
“Jack, a few days ago Carlos disappeared. We discovered that—well, we discovered that he was assassinated.” Landon spoke low, and Jack leaned in to hear. As the words hung in the air, Jack looked up sharply, and then raised a hand to his head.
“No. No, no.”
He took a step away, turning his back to them, and stood still, and then kicked a stone in the road, which went ricocheting off the curb.
“Come back to our house tonight,” said Haley, stepping after him. “Elizabeth and I are living with Senator McCraiben and his family and Landon in the brick house on the end of this road. We would love your company. We both miss you.”
Jack nodded, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll stop by.”
“Where are you living now? Where did you disappear to?” asked Haley, remembering the rally.
Jack looked up at the sky.
“Nowhere special,” he said slowly. “I’ve got a job with the Virginia Water Sanitation Company. We pump the water through filters all day.”
Haley sensed that there was more, but chose to remain silent on the topic. With Jack, one could never know. She didn’t smell any liquor on him—presumably he was still sober—but she sensed that he was holding something back, that there was more to the story of where he had been and what he had been doing. She nodded.
“I’ve got to go,” said Jack, very solemnly. “You’ll excuse me.”
He stepped down off the curb into the street and strode away, not looking back.
+
At six pm, Jack knocked on the Senator’s door. Haley let him in with a smile and an embrace. Dinner was on the table, a spread of meats and cheeses and potatoes. Jack seated himself next to Haley, joining the Senator and his family and the others, who had all just begun to eat. Haley introduced him, and the others welcomed him and expressed their gratitude for his company.
Simple, pleasant conversation ensued; they spoke of the cooling fall temperatures and the preparations for winter and the increasing economic development in the area. Mrs. Mcraiben, a small brunette woman with kind brown eyes, shared a few stories of when she and the Senator had been a young couple, and the others listened attentively, subconsciously relieved to be conversing about anything but
Carlos or the election. After their plates were empty and the water glasses drained, the Senator pushed back his chair and took a deep breath.
“Jack, I’d like to have a word with you, if possible,” he said. “Just briefly. Would you come into my study?”
Jack acquiesced and the two stood up and moved towards the study, while the others cleared the table and washed the dishes.
The Senator’s study, adjoining the living room, smelled of books and candles and wood, and in fact those were the most prominent three items that one could find in the study. Bookshelves lined the walls, and there was a fireplace, and two red plush chairs with wooden legs, and a wooden desk upon which lay stacks of papers. The Senator took a box of matches from the desk drawer and lit the candles that were placed around the room, casting a soft yellow light around the space. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, the Senator pulled out a long, thin box and extracted a thick cigar.
“Cigar?”
“I’m alright.” Jack replied.
The Senator replaced the box, and then motioned to the chairs, and he and Jack sat down.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” began the Senator, folding his hands. “Haley and I spoke about you earlier today, and I have something to ask you,” he said, sparing formalities in his usual brusque manner.
“Of course,” replied Jack.
“She told me about your time on Baker Island. Is all of that true?”
“Now hold on,” said Jack, caught off guard. “Why are you asking me that?” His eyes darted to the door in sudden suspicion.
