by John Price
SECOND TERM
A NOVEL OF
AMERICA IN THE LAST DAYS
JOHN PRICE
Christian House Publishing, Inc.
Second Term is Book One of a trilogy of novels arising from events that may well occur during the second term of an American President, informed by Biblical prophecy.
SECOND TERM
A NOVEL OF AMERICA IN THE LAST DAYS
Copyright © 2012 and 2013 by John Price
This book is a novel, a work of fiction. Any similarity or resemblance of the characters depicted in this book to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Names, characters, places and incidents depicted in this novel are devised and used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the Author or Christian House Publishing, Inc.
www.SECONDTERMBOOK.com
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Library of Congress Control Number – 2011916857
Price, John
SECOND TERM
A Novel of America in the Last Days
ISBN-13: 978-0-9840771-3-7 (Amazon)
ISBN-13: 978-0-9840771-4-4 (Kindle)
Printed in the United States of America
AMENDMENT ONE
TO THE CONSTITUTION
OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Congress shall make no law respecting
an establishment of religion,
or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;
or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press;
or the right of the people peaceably to assemble,
and to petition the
Government for a redress of grievances.
AMENDMENT TWO
TO THE CONSTITUTION
OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
A well-regulated militia,
being necessary to the security of a free state,
the right of the people to keep and bear arms
shall not be infringed.
(The Bill of Rights was adopted on December 15, 1791)
I.
THE
PRESIDENTIAL
ELECTION
“It will begin with an internal revolution.”
Introduction to September, 1984 “Message to America” by Romanian Pastor Dumitru Duduman (1932-1997)
ONE
THE WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE
Washington, DC
Vivian Higgins raced down the hall of the West Wing, flew past the Secret Service Agent posted at the door to the Oval Office and pushed open the office’s curved door, without being announced. As the President’s Chief Domestic Policy Advisor, she was the only staff member who could get away with such an injudicious entrance. The President, who was reading a memo from Speaker Pelham, snapped his head up to see who had burst into his world-famous office without even a knock, let alone a phone alert.
Once he saw that it was Vivian, he smiled broadly, knowing that even if he asked her to be more respectful of his official space, it wouldn’t do any good. They went too far back, to the days when neither had any money, nor much power, just a common desire to radically transform their country. Both knew that the President was sitting in this august office only because Vivian, who was then working for the mayor of their city, had taken him under her wing. Vivian had been introduced to the young community organizer by his fiancée, a friend of Vivian’s. Impressed by his good looks and his hyper-liberal ideas, which matched those of Vivian perfectly, she quickly introduced him to the members of the establishment in their city. The rest, as they both had frequently observed since, was definitely history.
The President couldn’t recall ever seeing his Chief Domestic Policy Advisor so upset. “Whoa, Vivian, slow up. Come here and sit down. You look like you’re about to blow a gasket. What’s the problem?”
The President wasn’t too concerned as he knew that whatever was bothering Vivian Higgins had nothing to do with a foreign crisis, or even a blow up in his already stormy relationship with Congress. Vivian had a habit of losing her temper only when anything came close to touching the personal reputation of her boss, whom she clearly idolized. The President readily accepted the admiration of those who held him in high regard, but held in obvious disdain those who didn’t.
Clutching a printed e-mail, Vivian moved towards the most famous desk in the world, her voice shaking with emotion. “Mr. President, tell me this Politico e-news article that just hit our computer screens is wrong. You’re not seriously considering dumping the Vice President and replacing him with Hilde? Tell me it ain’t so! Not Hilde Ramona Calhoun.”
“Now, Vivian, calm down….you know I won’t do anything that major without talking first to you….and….of course, talking….to…The Wife.”
“So, you are thinking about it? I knew it.”
“I have to, Vivian, you know that, we all know the Veep can’t open his mouth without sticking in both feet. You remember what he did to me on same sex….”
“Stop. I know better than anybody what a world class dope he is. You usually assign me to clean up his daily mess. That’s not the issue. He needs to go off the ticket….but Hilde?....Surely you haven’t decided….to….”
“I told you that until you and The Wife and I discuss this, it’s not a done deal. Plus, the printed results from the poll David ordered aren’t on my desk yet. All I have is David’s phone call telling me that Hilde on the ticket would move 5-6 per cent of the base into our column. I don’t have to tell you how close this election is and what 5 to 6 per cent of the vote can mean for winning….and….Vivian, no matter what you think of Hilde, we have to win. Davy and the campaign staff can only steal so many votes.”
“OK, look I get all that, but I haven’t forgotten The Wife’s near meltdown when you were considering Hilde for Vice President four years ago. What did she ask you?….‘Do you really want Hilde, and her media-hungry husband, Wilbur Jackson Calhoun, who, let us not forget, occupied this office for two terms, located just down the hall from the Oval Office?’ ”
“Yeah, yeah. That was her argument, and I eventually agreed, especially when I realized from the early polls that I couldn’t lose, that I could put Donald Duck on the ticket and still win.”
“So, instead you ran with Goofy and look what that’s done for you. He’s a constant embarrassment….Oh, by the way, I called The Wife on the way out of my office. She’s on her way down to….”
TWO
THE WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE
Washington, DC
WHAM. The Oval Office curved door slammed against its door stop as the First Lady bolted into the room.
“WHAT? Hilde Calhoun? No….NO….Did you hear me? NEVER.”
The First Lady was livid. She was beyond upset, she was irate. Vivian’s call had ignited her famous uncontrollable anger. How dare her husband consider replacing the Vice President with former First Lady Hilde Ramona Calhoun.
“Now, honey, slow it down. Nobody’s decided anything, and you know that….”
“Don’t honey me. You’d better not decide something like this without my consent”, she said while glancing at her best friend in the White House, “and Vivian’s consent, also, of course.”
“Look, let’s take this one step at a time, shall we? Do we all agree that the Veep should be history? Too much baggage. An Albatross around our neck. Pick your metap
hor.”
The President had agreed to his one unbreakable rule in his first week in power when, in a weak moment, he told his wife, and his closest political advisor, that he wouldn’t decide anything “really big” unless all three agreed. He had come to regret his words within days, but, by then it was too late, and he had been hobbled ever since with what amounted to a quiet ‘Three Way Presidency.’ His staff members soon figured out how things worked, so they invariably lobbied Vivian first, then the First Lady, and if they had both votes, then they presented their proposals to the man elected as the ‘leader of the free world’, though there were really three co-leaders.
Both women, now seated on the two chairs on both sides of his desk, said nothing, but both quietly slowly nodded, waiting for the President’s next words, the ones they were both prepared to pounce on.
“I get it, girls, I get it….You both hate Hilde. But, I’ve worked with her for the last three years, and really….she’s not that bad. She’s a lot more savvy on complicated foreign affairs issues than Wilbur ever was. Everybody used to say that when she married Wilbur she latched onto her ticket to political stardom. I don’t agree. I think he did.”
Both women continued to say nothing, staring at the President. He had not spoken….yet….the words they were both well prepared to counter. Forcefully.
Fidgeting. Brushing dust off his desk top. Uncomfortable with their silence, the President thought that he could play the same game, so he stopped talking. Let’s see what their main objection is, he thought. I’m armed with polls. I know they’re just armed with emotion.
Silence. The pendulum clock in the Oval Office ticking. In the far distance, even through the triple bullet proof window panes, traffic noise in DC rumbling in the background.
Who would speak first? From past experience, gained from many bruising battles, the President knew that The Wife would have to speak first, even if he had to wait until night time. If he spoke first, he invariably lost. The Wife was not a woman to be trifled with, let alone argued with. So he waited.
And waited.
The First Lady blinked first, as the President knew she eventually would.
“All right. I know you’ve polled this, so what….”
“How did you kno….”
“David. You’re not the only one who talks to your Campaign Manager. Plus, how long have we been married? We wouldn’t even be discussing this if you didn’t have a poll in your desk drawer that you gonna’ whip out on us. Am I right? So, what does the poll show?”
“I just told Vivian right before you arrived, sharing your presence with us. Hilde adds five to six percent….that’s five to six percent.”
Neither female co-President responded. More silence.
The President spoke up this time, “Guys, I’m a little tired frankly of Wilbur’s less than subtle public gnawing on my leg in the media. He keeps saying good things about our opponent. I think he’s hoping that I’ll replace the Veep with his wife, in order to shut him up. Need I point out the painful truth….that we are today in a virtual tie with our opponent….a tie….and….Hilde can push us over the line.”
Vivian couldn’t restrain herself any longer. “You can be sure of that. If you pick Hilde to replace Goofus she will push all of us over the line….and maybe push us all right out ‘da door, if you know what I mean.”
Tag-teaming, the First Lady jumped in to agree. “Look, I said it four years ago, and I guess I have to repeat it again. Wilbur and Hilde do not have a very good history with the long term health of people who fall out of favor with them, shall we say.”
The President leaned back in his chair, folded his hands on his chest and smiled, for the first time in the tense discussion. “Honey, that is so much nonsense. The Calhouns may be a lot of things, especially Wilbur, as we all know. But, murderers, come on.”
The First Lady was unimpressed. “What was the total body count of former staff who became their enemies? Unh, was it twenty four? Twenty four deceased former associates of the Calhouns? You really wanna’ take a chance of having the Calhouns not only one heartbeat away from their returning to this office, but just one bullet away?”
Turning to the First Lady, Vivian was shaking her head in obvious disagreement. She said, “I never bought that internet baloney. I even looked into some of that. Except for the guy they found over in the DC park, all the others had natural causes of death. So, I just don’t….”
The First Lady sensing that she may be in the minority, looked down at her lap, then said, “I’m just sayin’….”
The President saw his opportunity, and took it, “Vivian and I aren’t worried about the Calhouns doing anything like that. This fishbowl of a job doesn’t exactly lend itself to offing the Commander in Chief. If Lyndon Johnson actually had anything at all to do with what happened in Dallas, it would have come out within hours. I’m the most protected man in America, as I should be. Can either of you think of anyone else more vital to the nation?”
Both women were more than used to the President’s fascination with himself, but neither wanted to argue the obvious. The First Lady decided to try one more approach to heading off Hilde’s nomination as Vice President of the United States.
“Dear,” the First Lady said, using her most endearing personal name for her husband, “let me just ask you a simple question. What are you going to do when ol’ Wilbur walks down that hall there into this office, without even an appointment….pulls up a chair, puts his oversize feet up on your desk and tells you what you need to do to handle that day’s crisis? You can’t keep a former President from invading your space….this was his space, remember?
“Well, I, that is….I could tell the Secret Service that I want them to….”
“Sure, you can. You know Wilbur, he’s not a self-restrained person, in any way, including with a number of female interns, one in this in this very off…”
“OK. I see your point, but I have a bigger concern, that I’ve thought some about. Wilbur could make his wife’s West Wing office down the hall into his personal media relations center, meeting and greeting reporters. How could I stop that?....But, look guys, we still have to replace the Veep, and Hilde gets me more votes than anybody else we polled, by a large number. Don’t forget Alinsky’s main rule – never voluntarily give it up once you get into power.”
Vivian looked over at the First Lady. She could tell from the body language and lack of eye contact of her friend of twenty plus years that the First Lady was probably, reluctantly, willing to agree with her husband. Vivian instantly regretted her comment arguing that the Calhoun enemy destruction conspiracy theory was hokum. Her words had made it appear that she could swallow Hilde as Vice President, when she had no such intention. She knew it was time to erase the impression that she would agree to Hilde’s selection. “Look, a minute ago I supported the Calhouns on the ‘murder their enemies’ bunk, but I didn’t mean to say that I…..”
BUZZ. The President’s telephone handset alerted him that his personal secretary was about to give him a message. He was somewhat surprised because his standing instruction had been to never interrupt a meeting with the First Lady and Vivian Higgins. “Yes, Marge,” his voice tinged with some anger, “what is it? You know I’m with….”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. President. I wouldn’t have even thought of interrupting you, but you need to know that CBS just called to alert us that President Calhoun, sorry, former President Calhoun, has just been rushed to the hospital. Sorry to interrupt, sir.”
“No problem, Marge, you were right. We needed to know.”
Vivian was the first to speak. “Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways, as they say. Our remaining problem with the best way to pick up six per cent of the vote this fall may have just been resolved. Now, we just have to figure out how to break it to Goofy. He has a world famous temper, as we know, and a ton bunch of friends on the Hill. It won’t be easy.”
THREE
St. Louis, Missouri
“What t
he h….Son of a….What the heck is this? I can’t…believe…this!”
Mike Chapel had given up cursing years ago when he was saved, but the enormity of his discovery almost erased his pledge to watch his tongue. But, the ballots didn’t lie. Mike found the ballots as he was looking for filed candidate filing records to satisfy a reporter’s Freedom of Information request. His extended search led him to the back of the storage area in the St. Louis Board of Election Commissioners. Underneath a green tarp, held in place by yellow nylon ropes, and stacked at the bottom of several card boxes, he found a locked ballot box. The ballot box looked to him like one normally used to deposit absentee ballots cast by voters prior to the election. Stenciled on the side of the wooden box were the words ST. LOUIS ELECTION COMMISSIONERS. It had a narrow slot in the top, a metal hasp and a large padlock securing its contents. Until, that is, it was pried open by Mike Chapel, who as a new employee of the election bureau, wondered why it was locked. He justified breaking it open because he thought it could have been left over, uncounted, from the last election.
What Mike found, upon leveraging off the padlock and hasp from the wooden top, was a ballot box stuffed to the top with ballots printed for the upcoming November election, now three months away. He pulled out two large handfuls of ballots and soon confirmed that they were, indeed, this year’s ballots. He knew the ballot well because he had worked with the Clerk to proof and edit the ballot before the text was sent to the printer. These were this year’s ballots, he thought, so why are these ballots in this box, most of them folded, some not? How could this happen?
He began to spread the ballots out on the top of the stacked boxes in the storage room. As he looked at the ballots, all of which were clearly marked with votes for President, he soon noticed a disturbing trend. Each had a vote for President, and only a few votes were cast for other candidates for other offices. The pre-marked ballots that he had discovered hidden in the storage room were almost all marked in favor of the President. The more he examined the ballots the more he realized that he had come across evidence of a criminal act….voter fraud. Only a small handful of the several hundred ballots in the box that he examined showed votes for the President’s opponent. His estimate was about one hundred votes for the President for each vote marked for the President’s opponent.
