by Michael Fine
Huang returned fire. “Federal funding for these programs increased to record levels under President Spencer. In his time in office, funding was over five hundred million dollars annually. During that time, teen pregnancies and incidents of sexually transmitted diseases were at an all-time high. During the eight years of President Davenport’s presidency, these programs were re-tooled to include information about contraceptives and—guess what?—the rates of teen pregnancy and STDs dropped sharply. These programs didn’t lack funding, they lacked academic integrity. They lacked efficacy.”
Roy Wainwright interjected. “Now, now, Miss Huang, there’s no need for attacks on people’s integrity.”
“That’s ‘Doctor Huang’,” Huang admonished Wainwright.
Wainwright blushed but said nothing.
Senator Carrington said, “Let’s not lose track of the fact that sex education began in public schools in the 1960s, promoted by the sex education arm of Planned Parenthood.”
Huang knew that Carrington saw his statement as a dig against Planned Parenthood. She saw it differently, believing that every individual, regardless of age or marital status, should choose for themselves when he or she becomes sexually active. Sex education—real sex education—unequivocally helped them make these choices.
Huang faced the audience, knowing she was likely speaking to an auditorium full of deaf ears. “That’s a good thing, right? Did you know that research shows that so-called ‘virginity pledgers’ who pledge to remain a virgin until marriage are just as likely to engage in premarital sex as their peers, have STD rates similar to other teens and, worse, are less likely to use contraception if they do engage in sexual intercourse? How is this the public health outcome we want?”
“Condoms are untrustworthy, both against pregnancy and STDs,” Norquist said.
“That is false. The U. S. Center for Disease Control has found that, quote, latex condoms provide an essentially impermeable barrier to particles the size of STD pathogens, unquote. Yet you continue to push your false narrative. So does at least one of the curricula you favor.”
Carrington jumped in and said, “All of you here should visit the website ‘number of abortions dot com’. You can watch, in real time, the count of babies killed every second of every day. Dr. Huang calls it choice. I call it what it is: genocide.”
Huang quietly asked Carrington, “Why does that site contain a statistic for ‘black babies since ’73 in the U.S.’?” The racial bias was uncalled for and unforgivable in her mind.
Carrington deftly declined to answer Huang’s question. Frankly, he didn’t agree with the decision to add that statistic to the site; the data was powerful enough without bringing bigotry into the picture. He changed the subject, and said, “Sincerely held religious beliefs and heritage surrounding sexuality should be honored.”
Huang countered, “Are you suggesting that the religious beliefs and heritage of, say, Muslims should be honored, too?” Before Carrington could answer, she added, “And what about those who believe in a great and powerful flying toaster that tells them to have sex all the time? That marriage is a sin?” Gasps came from the crowd at this.
Peter Norquist tried another attack. “Parents should be the primary sex educators of their children.”
“I agree,” said Huang. “We’re here discussing whether there’s a valid public interest in also having sex education taught in schools and, if so, what that sex education should cover. My argument isn’t that parents shouldn’t take the lead. They should. My argument is that abstinence-only sex ed leads to far worse public health outcomes.”
Norquist said, “School-age children should refrain from sexual activity until they are married.”
“Why? If your argument is that that’s what your holy book says, then what if my holy book says we should fuck like rabbits? Pardon my French.” More gasps from the audience.
“Miss—Dr. Huang!” Wainwright said, objecting to Huang’s profanity.
“But,” Huang continued, “if your argument is aimed to inform public policy, I ask, simply, ‘why’? The data clearly shows that this is not good for children or society.”
Norquist huffed and squirmed in his chair. “Abstinence until marriage eliminates health risks,” he said definitively.
“In theory, sure,” Huang said. “I choose to live in reality. I think you owe it to society, and teens in particular, to join me there.”
Carrington could tell that Dr. Huang was a far better debater than Peter Norquist would ever be. He said, “Delayed gratification is essential to maturity.”
Huang surprised Carrington and the others by saying, simply, “I agree.”
“Learning to develop friendships without physical intimacy is a critical skill that leads to healthier marriages,” Carrington said.
“I agree,” Huang repeated. “But,” she added, “I repeat my plea: join me in the land of reality. You’re making theoretical arguments that don’t hold up in the real world.”
Norquist said, “Children should be able to pursue their dreams without the distraction of the consequences of sexual activity.”
“I agree,” Huang said for a third time. “One of the best ways for them to avoid those distractions is to use contraception to minimize the risk of pregnancy and disease.”
Roy Wainwright surreptitiously checked his watch. It was time to wind down the event.
“Well, on that note, I think we need to bring things to a close. I want to thank my guests, Senator Royce Carrington, Mr. Norquist, and Miss Huang, for being here and joining us for this spirited conversation. Students, as you leave here and go back to your dorms and apartments, I want you to realize that having multiple sexual partners can be dangerous to your physical and emotional health. Abstinence is the only sure way to avoid these dangers. And, remember, pornography is a clear and present danger to you and to society.” After a pause and a request for a round of applause for the evening’s guests, he finished with, “Thank you, good night, and God bless you.”
Huang, fuming from Wainwright’s almost certain purposeful use of ‘Miss’ instead of ‘Doctor,’ sat and wondered how the hell Wainwright made the leap to pornography.
Norquist rose and shook Carrington’s hand and then Wainwright’s. He walked to the side of the stage and began packing up his personal effects in preparation for his late flight home.
Carrington waited for Norquist to exit the stage before approaching Wainwright. After shaking hands with the University president, he said, “Thanks for hosting.”
“My pleasure, Senator.”
“Two things,” Carrington said. “First, find someone other than Norquist the next time you put one of these on. And for that matter, invite someone other than Dr. Huang. The sad fact is that she wiped the floor with him.” And me, he admitted to himself.
Wainwright nodded his assent.
Secondly, “Here’s a thirty million dollar check to Delivery University to further the cause of abstinence-only education. For me, the bottom line is this: we need to do everything we can to prevent abortions in this country, and despite all of Dr. Huang’s so-called facts and studies, I believe the best way to do this is to keep teens from having sex before marriage.” He handed Wainwright the check.
As Roy Wainwright shook Carrington’s hand and thanked him for the donation, Dr. Marcia Huang, who watched the exchange and guessed correctly what had just transpired, shook her head in disgust before walking out to her rental car.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Friday, March 2 (the next day)
United States Senate
Washington, D.C.
13 days before vote on the Sanctity of Life bill
The events of Friday morning would forever remain a blur to Hope.
When Hope came to Charlie’s hotel room at 8:00 in the morning, she wheeled her suitcase in behind her, and as soon as Charlie closed the door, she carefully lifted it onto the bed and unzipped it.
“Tank all set?” she asked.
The
previous evening, Charlie had bought a propane tank and an acetylene torch and sliced off the very bottom of the oxygen tank he’d purchased earlier. With the rubber heel attached, the tank looked normal, but was, in effect, a steel hiding place.
“All set,” Charlie said. He removed the rubber heel from the tank.
Carefully, Hope inserted an artificial womb containing the transplanted fetus from the young woman from whom she’d extracted it the night before.
“Is that the baby?” Charlie asked.
“The fetus, yes. eighteen weeks.”
Charlie said a silent prayer for its safety.
Next, Hope inserted her scalpel and other medical instruments as well as various medicines she would need for the surgeries.
“That’s it,” she said. “Close ‘er up.”
Charlie had watched Hope carefully. “No sensor or explosive?”
Hope thought back to what Sanam had said, that it was more likely that the switch would go off when it shouldn’t than the other way around. Despite the nature of what she was doing, she had, after all, agreed to uphold the Hippocratic Oath to “do no harm.” She did not want innocent people to die, or even to be at risk.
“Given the risk that Sanam’s switch might go off by accident, I can’t risk using it. And if I can’t use the switch, I can’t use Quinn’s explosive device.” The disappointment in her voice was obvious.
Charlie attached the rubber heel to the tank.
Hope’s emotions were all over the place. Her initial plan, which called for an assault on the Senate floor, was a failure. Yet she felt relieved that at least she wouldn’t have to shoot anyone. Her visit with her mom had been heartbreaking; the distance between them was simply too far to bridge. Yet Charlie had saved the day by swiping her mother’s badge. Now, here she was, standing with Charlie just outside the Capitol building, about to go through with her latest, risky, ill-conceived plan.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Born ready,” Charlie said. It was his standard answer to that question since she’d met him so many years earlier.
“Think it’ll work?” she asked, hopeful.
“Not really, no,” Charlie responded. He’d faced death before, and he would either live or he would die. Hope’s cause was worth dying for. Hope was worth dying for. And if he died, he’d see his son again. After a beat, he added, “Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you, Charlie,” Hope said. She took a deep breath to steel her nerves and added, “Here we go.”
Hope wore her new business suit, and Charlie was wearing the old man disguise that Quinn had used back when Hope and Quinn had done their reconnaissance run. While Hope thought the whole get-up made Quinn look eccentric, she had a pang of sadness when she realized she was seeing a version of Charlie not too many years into the future. The man was already in his mid-fifties, she had to constantly remind herself.
Hope and Charlie made their way toward the security screening checkpoint. This was a crucial moment. One of Charlie’s tanks held the sevoflurane. The other, which Charlie had connected through tubing to his nose, was the empty tank that contained the artificial womb containing the embryo, and all of Hope’s surgical gear.
Hope went through security without a hitch, despite several dozen of Charlie’s nylon, 250-pound tensile strength cable ties in her purse. Then it was Charlie’s turn.
He really hammed it up, Hope thought, putting on a show as the crotchety old man who didn’t like the hassle of the security guards touching and prodding him and his oxygen tanks.
“Careful with those, sonny. That’s my life in there. No ox-y, no breathe-y. No breathe-y, no life-y. You understand that, sonny?”
Whether it was due to lax security or because the guard was sick and tired of Charlie’s incessant complaints, Charlie made it through security without incident. He caught up to Hope, who stood quietly off to the side. As he walked up to where Hope was standing, Charlie raised his eyebrows and opened his eyes wide as if to say, “Whew.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile.
Their tour started a few minutes later. As the group passed the north gift shop and the entrance to the Senate, Hope and Charlie made eye contact. At just the right moment, they hopped onto the escalator going down to the lower level of the Capitol building.
They quickly made their way across the Hall and between the two orientation theaters. Soon they were in the Exhibition Hall. Led by instinct and Charlie’s finely tuned sense of direction honed by years in the Army, they finally found a stairwell and went up a flight of stairs. If Charlie was right, they were just outside the Senate chamber, on the side of the chamber where the Democrats sat. Hope thought of this as “stage right.”
“Hand me the cable ties,” Charlie said to Hope. She handed the heavy-duty fasteners to him, and he pocketed them. He carefully removed the plastic tubing from his nose, but left it connected to the tank. He handed the oxygen tank carrier to Hope and said, “Just rip off the black heel from this one,” he said, pointing to one of the tanks. “Pull hard.”
Hope took the carrier by its handle. “Good luck,” she said, touching her fingertips to his cheek.
“Give me five minutes to get the main entrance doors secured,” Charlie said. “Stay invisible until then.” Before she could respond, he walked through the side entrance and into the Senate chamber, and toward the main doors. Because the Senate was in session, the doors were all closed. Good, he thought. That will save me some time.
Hope crossed through the side door just behind Charlie and tried to blend in. Her suit helped, which was her goal. A great many of the seats were empty, as was often the case, and so Hope quietly sat along the side of the chamber and waited for Charlie. From her seat, she could see her target, Senator Royce Carrington, and several of his cronies. Closer, on her side of the aisle she could see Senator Mary Roberts, her mother’s boss. The woman was gorgeous, with shocking platinum blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, perfect skin, and just a touch of expertly applied makeup. She was speaking quietly to several other Democratic Senators and Hope couldn’t help but sense how confident and composed the woman was.
If it weren’t for a bored high school student in the visitor gallery, Charlie might have been able to finish securing all of the doors. As it was, the young girl’s cell phone battery had died just moments earlier and she was no longer able to amuse herself with her social media feeds. She looked up and saw Charlie moving from door to door, doing something that somehow seemed strange. She wasn’t sure what the man was up to, but it didn’t seem right. “If you see something, say something,” her parents and teachers always said.
“Hey!” she screamed. “There’s a suspicious man in the back, near the doors!”
Hope’s heart sank immediately. She knew that once again, she had failed. Worse, she and Charlie were likely going to go to jail.
The Capitol Police were on their game, and were able to enter the Senate chamber through one of the few doors that Charlie hadn’t yet secured. He knew he was doomed, but Charlie did his best to fortify as many doors as possible, hoping he could somehow protect Hope.
A split second after the police entered the chamber and tackled Charlie, Hope sensed someone beside her. She spun, thinking that she would not go down without a fight. She balled up her fists and was prepared to punch whomever it was when she realized it was Senator Mary Roberts. The Senator whispered, “Follow me. Quickly.” The room was in chaos. Police rushed in and Senators and aides ran in panic or crouched in the aisles.
Before Hope could respond, Senator Roberts was already walking toward a side exit, nearer the dais than the one through which she and Charlie had entered. Hope stood and rushed to keep up with the Senator. As she walked, she reached down and gave two full twists to the tank that contained the anesthesia. By the time Senator Roberts led her to the exit of the building, the tank was empty.
When the women were at the exit door, Senator Roberts motioned to the exit and simply said, “Go. Now.” Hope didn’t get to ask Senator Roberts wh
y she was helping her escape, and didn’t notice Senator Roberts unclip Tanya’s badge from her suit jacket before she rushed out of the building and into the harsh sunlight and crisp air of another beautiful fall day in the nation’s capital.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Friday, March 2 (later that day)
Hope’s Hotel Room
Outside of Washington, D.C.
13 days before vote on the Sanctity of Life bill
Too scared that she would be caught, Hope didn’t dare just crumple into a ball somewhere and cry, didn’t dare run to the train and then from the train to her hotel. She stumbled in a kind of trance, and bumped into more people than she could count. Somehow, though, she made it back to her room.
As soon as she closed and deadbolted her door, she turned on the TV, tuned to CNN, and stood watching. News reports of some kind of unusual event at the U.S. Senate were already out. The Capitol building was on lockdown, and Hope gave another silent thanks to Senator Roberts. Practically hyperventilating, the anchorman announced that an unnamed man had been arrested. It had to be Charlie. Hope’s legs gave out. She fell to the ground and cracked the back of her head against the frame of the bed. She let out a yelp.
Hope reached behind her head and her hand came back bloody. She crawled into the bathroom and snatched a washcloth from the vanity and pressed it against her injury. She yelped again.
Curling up on the bath mat outside of the shower, which was still damp from her morning shower, Hope broke down and wept while keeping pressure on her wound.
Some time later, Hope regained some measure of composure and managed to walk down the hall, fill up her ice bucket, and bring it back to her room. Along the way, she swiped a handful of fresh washcloths and put the Do Not Disturb sign on her door. She wrapped some ice in one of the washcloths and held it to the back of her head. After a few minutes, she checked her wound by taking a picture of it with her phone. It was just a small cut, thankfully. She popped two Tylenol and curled up again, this time on the bed.
