by James Hunt
It was risky. There was no guarantee they'd make it, and even if they did, someone else might have already picked over the supplies at the station. The place had been abandoned for months.
But she knew her cruiser could handle terrain that most other vehicles couldn't, and she knew the police wouldn't waste resources stationing officers in the middle of the desert.
Brooke put the cruiser in reverse and turned around. She switched to four-wheel drive and rolled onto the desert sand.
Chapter 6
The congressmen and congresswomen moved awkwardly, trying to maneuver through the tiny office. The fine cloth of expensive suits brushed against one another, the air heavy and thick from the number of bodies in the room. Daniel hid in the back corner, his hands fumbling over one another, watching the grimaces on the faces of his fellow politicians. He'd never seen people so eager to hear the words of one man and simultaneously wishing they had never been summoned to listen.
Whenever a pair of eyes found Daniel, he would watch the person who spotted him whisper in the ear of their neighbor, who would then look his way. His attempts to remain secluded failed with every head turned in his direction.
Everyone knew about his professional connection with Jones and the position of his state. Once Smith had said his piece, everyone would be looking to hear what he would say. And right now, he didn't have an answer.
The room parted as Smith's office doors creaked open and he walked inside. He patted shoulders and shook hands along the path to his desk, where he used a chair to assist in his climb to stand above the crowd.
“Congressmen, Congresswomen, thank you for coming on such short notice,” Smith said.
The room went silent. Smith seemed to look at each of them individually and as a group all at once. The tension from Smith's audience was uncomfortable and anxious. Daniel knew that if Smith didn't say something worthwhile, the room would empty faster than a gallon of water in New Mexico.
“You all know why I've called you here. Jones's bill cannot pass,” Smith said.
“And how do you propose we stop it?” Congressman Edwards said. “Jones has the ear of the president and the Senate.”
“He's also the chairman of the resources committee, which controls funds to all states in regard to water, food, and fuel,” another voice added.
The apprehension spread like a virus. Mumbles and grunts followed each lamentation. Smith extended his arms out across the crowd, trying to regain control.
“Everyone, please. All of us are well aware of Congressman Jones's affiliations. He may have the ear of the president and pull in the Senate, but he does not control the voice of Congress. The people do,” Smith said.
Smith paused, letting his words resonate within the bodies surrounding him. Daniel inched forward absentmindedly. His arms unfolded, and he could feel the rest of the room shift forward with him.
“Every single man and woman in this room took an oath. All of us were sworn to support and defend the Constitution of these United States. The moment that bill passes is the moment that we fail not just the people we represent but the entire country,” Smith continued.
Every single man and woman in this room also wanted to achieve their reelection next term. All of them had played the game, including Daniel. They were all borrowing time, greasing wheels and shaking hands with one hand while they hid a knife behind their backs with the other one. The ends justified the means.
“The bill won’t disappear unless we have something that can replace it,” Edwards said.
“I know,” Smith said. “And that's why I propose we resubmit bill H.R. 285016.”
Daniel closed his eyes, listening to coughs and snorts. He had been foolish to think Smith would have something that could really work. Smith had just thrown up a Hail Mary pass, and Daniel knew he would come up short.
“It didn't work three years ago, so why would you think it would work now?” Edwards said. “Jones dragged that bill through the mud. Even if we were able to pass it, the American people would lynch us for doing it.”
“The legislation is solid. And if the American people do not understand the difference between a bill of life and a bill of death, then we have far greater problems than Jones. The allegations against the bill were false, everyone knows that. Jones used fear to block it the first time; we can’t let him use that again.”
Smith looked to Daniel, and Daniel's eyes immediately found the tops of his shoes. He could feel Smith's gaze drilling into him. He cursed himself for showing up. The brief moment of courage that had propelled him to attend the meeting dissipated into the room.
“What does our representative from North Carolina have to say on the issue?” Edwards said.
Daniel could hear the shift of shoes sliding on carpet and bodies thumping into each other as everyone turned to him. When he looked up, the eyes staring back at him were a mixture of pain, helplessness, and fear. He hated the clinging neediness of their glare, wishing for someone to save them from having to decide on their own.
Daniel cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, which felt like it was strangling him. He could feel the heat from inside his suit boil his skin. His next words would impact millions of people, including the three he loved the most.
“It's obviously a very delicate issue. I think that we all want to drive toward a solution that's best not just for the individual but for the entire country,” Daniel said.
The faces looking at Daniel slowly turned away. They all knew what his noncommittal political response meant. If he wasn't voting for Smith's bill, he was voting for Jones's bill.
Daniel's eyes caught Smith's for only a moment, but it was enough to have the sour pit in his stomach return. Smith didn't wear a look of anger or fear but one of disappointment. The one man who could help him sway opinion had failed to deliver.
While the rest of the room focused their attention back to Smith, Daniel fidgeted in the corner, a war raging inside him, one side compelling him to speak up and the other begging him to stay quiet. The voice pushing him forward, encouraging him to stand tall, was that of his wife. He could hear her voice, drowning out the fear and apprehension washing over him.
“I vote no,” Daniel said.
The words came out as a whisper, unable to break the barrier of conversations booming in the room.
“I vote no,” Daniel repeated.
This time the words came out firm, loud. Daniel tilted his head up, looking immediately to Smith, who had the upward curve of a smile on his face.
“You're really going to vote against it?” Edwards asked, his eyebrow raised skeptically.
“I am. Congressman Smith is right. Jones's bill will destroy this country. We can't let that happen,” Daniel said. “We need to vote it down.”
Daniel's spine straightened. He could feel himself stretching above his peers. The mood of the room shifted. The representatives whispered among themselves, deciding whether it was safe to speak up.
“Congressman Hunter is with us. Who else?” Smith asked.
The room remained silent. Maybe Daniel was wrong. Even with both him and Smith leading the charge, it still might not be enough to remove Jones' talons from the rest of them.
“Hell. I'll vote no,” Edwards said.
The first drop of hope hit the pavement. Then, with every other congressman and congresswoman who said she or he would stand with Smith, the downpour began to wash over the rest of them.
A few of the congressmen slithered out, afraid of letting any evidence that they had been in the room with such people linger on their persons.
The lines were now set. There were those that opposed Jones's bill and those that supported it. Daniel just hoped that everyone's resolve would remain until the actual vote was upon them.
Smith stepped down from his desk and began shaking the hands of everyone who had stayed. Daniel received similar handshakes and eager smiles from colleagues thanking him for being the first to stand up.
Afterward, once the room had emptied,
leaving only Daniel and Smith, Smith wrapped him in a hug. Smith was only twelve years older than Daniel, but Daniel could sense the fatherly touch in Smith’s embrace.
“Thank you, Congressman,” Smith said.
“You think we'll have enough votes to stop it?” Daniel asked.
“Hard to say. It's going to be close. If some of the people who left without answering come to our side of the aisle, then we might have a chance.”
“Right.”
With the room cleared of thanks and nods of admiration, the brief moment of courage that had propelled Daniel forward began to fade. They had a lot of work ahead of them and a very short time to accomplish it.
***
Daniel and Smith combined their staffs to rework Bill H.R. 285016. The vote for Jones’ bill was in less than two hours.
Beth was hounding the staff, driving them forward like the handler of a dog sled, pushing the interns past their own capabilities.
The plan was to have Smith speak before the vote to propose his bill. If H.R. 285016 could pass, then they knew Jones's bill would get downvoted. This bill would be the light in the darkness for everyone to rally behind.
“Do you still have the research from the chemicals?” Daniel asked.
“Yes, it should be in our files somewhere. Why?” Smith asked.
“What's the biggest reason the bill didn't pass last time?”
“Jones introduced some very questionable evidence that the purification process caused cancer and health concerns. I had dozens of scientists debunk it, but it was no use. Once everyone heard the ‘c’ word, it was over.”
“People didn't understand the science. It was too wordy. We need to take that research and break it down, make it easier to understand. Then we print those few pages out and give them to the representatives. I think it'll help the confidence level when everyone votes.”
“It's smart,” Beth said. “We could give those FBI lab techs a call and have them work something up. They did a good job explaining it to you.”
“Make it happen,” Smith said.
Beth smacked one of the staff members on the shoulder, barking at him to dial a number. Smith pulled Daniel aside and out of the conference room. He closed his office doors, giving the two of them time to talk in quiet.
“Can I get you anything to drink, Daniel?” Smith asked.
“No, thank you. I'm fine.”
Smith gestured to the chairs circling a small oval table. Daniel leaned back, letting the soft cushions ease the tension of his neck and back.
“I can't thank you enough for what you did today,” Smith said.
“You made a very compelling speech,” Daniel said.
“I've been known to have a few well-placed words come together every now and then, but even I knew that it was a long shot. It would have taken more than just me to change your mind. So what was it?”
“I reversed it. I thought that if it were my family in the Southwest, how would I want my congressman to vote? I would be furious if Jones's bill passed.”
“Well, that decision just started the process of saving the lives of millions of people.”
“Truth is, I was just thinking of three.”
“Your family will be okay, Daniel. I know the ties you have with Jones. I'll make sure nothing happens to them.”
“Thank you.”
Daniel wasn't sure if Smith would be able to make good on that promise, but it was one he let himself believe. Doubt was a commodity he couldn't afford right now.
***
“We have a problem,” Beth said.
Both Daniel and Smith were on their way out the door when Beth stopped them.
“What is it?” Smith asked.
“We have the bill ready, but I went to check the patent office for the purification process just to make sure we had everything covered in the new bill.”
“And?” Daniel asked.
“It's gone.”
“What?” Smith asked.
“There isn't even a record of it being on file. No documents, no financial trail, nothing. It's like it was never there.”
“That's impossible,” Daniel said.
“Not if Jones knew someone in the patent office,” Smith replied.
“If Jones had something to do with the disappearance of the patent, then this bill will be a bluff that he'll call in front of everyone in Congress. We'll lose this fight before it begins,” Daniel said.
“What about the inventor? Do we still have his information?” Smith asked.
“The number's disconnected, and he's no longer at the address we have listed,” Beth answered.
“Track him down. Text me on my cell when you find him,” Smith said.
Chapter 7
The Land Cruiser's engine whined, straining to climb the thick sand hill. Brooke shifted gears, giving it some gas.
“C'mon, baby,” Brooke whispered.
The SUV peeked over the top of the hill, and as it rolled downhill, Brooke downshifted.
Brooke checked the compass on the dash, making sure they were still on course. Her eyes moved from the compass to the fuel gauge. The short orange line teetered on the large “E.” They were averaging forty miles per hour and had been traveling for roughly an hour and a half. They were close. All she needed was to push it just a little farther.
Sand splashed across the windshield from a burst of wind. The grains scraped the glass and paint of the vehicle. The sun beating down, even in the protection of the cruiser, was incredibly intense. Brooke kept the A/C on low to avoid overheating the engine. The temperature outside read one hundred and ten.
In the distance, she could see the shimmer of the old solar cells.
“We're almost there,” Brooke said.
The engine coughed, causing all of them to jerk forward from the sudden stop in acceleration. The cruiser continued to struggle, inching forward in brief bursts of speed before slowing to a crawl.
“No,” Brooke whispered.
The fuel gauge hit its final resting place at the bottom of the massive “E.” Brooke pressed her foot down on the gas defiantly, trying to will the cruiser forward. But the steering wheel stiffened as the car gave its last push. They rolled a few more feet in the sand, but the cruiser didn't have anything left to give.
“What happened?” Emily asked.
“We're out of gas,” Brooke said.
“Are we close?” John asked.
Brooke pointed straight ahead to the shimmering in the distance she had seen moments ago.
“You see that?” Brooke asked. “That's where the solar station is.”
It was easily a four- to five-mile hike. Not something she thought her daughter could make, especially in this heat. And she couldn't leave Emily here alone. John would have to stay with her.
“I'll hike there and bring the fuel back,” Brooke said.
“You're going there alone?” John asked.
“You and your sister will stay here with the car and supplies. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours.”
Brooke opened her door and stomped through the sand to the back of the cruiser to grab her pack. She dumped out only what she needed for the trip there and back. A few pieces of food, some water, and simple first aid supplies. It was dangerous not taking at least twenty-four hours of supplies with her, but she knew the fuel would be heavy on the way back, and she didn't want to add to the burden. She zipped up the main compartment of her pack, and John edged around the corner of the car.
“Mom, it's a long walk,” John said.
“You need to stay here and look after your sister.”
Brooke pulled the 9mm Ruger LCR double action revolver out of her waistband and handed it to her son. He held it awkwardly. She walked around behind him and adjusted his grip.
“Thumbs over thumbs. Don't place your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot. And when you do shoot, you want to squeeze the trigger, don't pull it,” Brooke said. “I don't think you'll run into any troublemakers
out here, but I want you to have it just in case. If I'm not back by sundown, then something's wrong. I want you to wait here until tomorrow morning, then take your sister to the relay station, but come at it from the north.”
“Mom,” John said.
“It'll be a little bit of a longer walk, but you'll be in a better position to scout any trouble. There used to be a satellite phone there. Try and find it and call Aunt Amy. Let her know where you are.”
“Mom.”
