by James Hunt
John’s phone went to voicemail, and Brooke hit the number again. She was getting closer to the high school. If the situation there was anything like Emily’s school, then it was going to be a cluster. There were more than three thousand students at John’s high school.
Finally, after six rings on the second call, an exasperated, whispered voice picked up the phone.
“What?” John asked.
“Johnny, I need you to get your stuff and meet me by Ninth Street in front of your school.”
“Mom, I’m in the middle of class. I can’t just leave.”
“Johnny, something very ba—”
Brooke cut herself off. Emily was worried enough without having her mother lose her cool.
“Have you seen the news?” Brooke asked.
“Yeah, but our teachers said it’ll get taken care of.”
Brooke's knuckles whitened as she gripped the phone tighter. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her voice calm but stern.
“Jonathan, grab your backpack and meet me on Ninth Street in five minutes. If you’re not outside when I get there, I’m marching into that classroom and pulling you out by your ear,” Brooke said.
“Fine!”
The call clicked dead, and Brooke dropped the phone into the cup holder. Her eyes floated down to her fuel gauge. The orange line hovered just below three quarters of a tank. It was more than enough to get home and then head to the airport.
When Brooke pulled onto Ninth Street, she saw John with his backpack hanging from one strap. His head was bent toward his phone, and he was typing furiously. Whatever status update he was making about his current situation was no doubt unflattering to his mother.
Brooke stopped the cruiser right in front of him, and he jumped inside. She peeled off, and the three of them headed home.
***
The cruiser's tires screeched into the driveway. Brooke hurried into the house, pulling Emily with her.
“Okay, Em, I need you to pack as many clothes in your suitcase as you can,” Brooke said.
“Got it.”
Brooke turned around and went into John’s room. He was lying on his bed, shaking his phone in frustration.
“This stupid thing never works!” John said.
“John, stop playing with that and start packing.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to North Carolina to stay with your Aunt Amy for a while.”
“What about school? What about my friends? What about my life?”
“Making sure that life of yours continues is why we're going,” Brooke said, heading upstairs to her bedroom.
Brooke was piling clothes into her own suitcase when her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from her sister.
“President is on the news.”
Brooke ran downstairs and turned on the television. She changed the channel to the local news just as the president walked on screen.
“My fellow Americans. Our nation has reached a tipping point in our natural resources. As many of you have heard, the story broke that the Colorado Basin, which is responsible for supplying water to over forty million people, has run dry. Now, I know there have been attempts from rioters and looters to break into the resource stations in that area, but I must stress that you should not panic. I am sending in resources to help stabilize the area to ensure we maintain order. To assist with that task, I am officially declaring the following states under martial law: California, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, and Utah. To the citizens of those states, hear me when I say your country is with you. God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.”
Brooke tried to pay attention to what the president was saying, but her eyes caught the rolling ticker at the bottom of the screen. Her heart sank as she mouthed the words “All planes grounded by executive order.”
Chapter 3
Congressman Jones leaned backward in his dark leather chair. He pressed the tips of his fingers against each other, listening to the committee around him.
“The president already made a statement that we’re sending help. This is a ludicrous idea,” Congressman Smith said.
Jones had listened to the room go back and forth for hours. The Colorado Basin had been dry for almost a month, and every proposal submitted with a solution to the problem had to pass through this committee, of which Congressman Jones happened to be chairman. Every other solution had been denied except his.
“Congressmen, your concerns have been noted, but the fact is the rest of the country will be in a similar condition if we don’t do something now. Texas is barely holding together, and the Midwest is barely producing enough food to feed the country. Drastic times call for drastic measures,” Jones said.
“The president said—”
“I’m well aware of what the president said, and so are his advisers.”
The others were silent. Jones rested his elbows on the table, folding his long, slender fingers together. He flashed his pearly white, veneer smile. The plastic surgery hid most of the lines and creases in his face except when he smiled. That was when his age showed, revealing the crinkling corners of his eyes and mouth.
The Southwest had been a drain on the country for years now. It was sucking what few resources the country had left. Jones wanted to cut their losses.
“Once we have all of our strategic points set up, we’ll be making the official announcement. Until then, air traffic is grounded, and martial law will keep the local populations from going anywhere. All we have to do now is keep our fortitude,” Jones said.
“You’re sick,” Smith said.
“I know this is a difficult decision, but when we leave this room, we can’t have any doubts. It’s important for us to move forward as a unit. That’s why we have our representatives from the Southwest with us now.”
Those that were considered key politicians from California, Colorado, Arizona, Nevada, Utah, and New Mexico were present. All of them had their heads down, ashamed to look anyone in the eye.
“This meeting is adjourned,” Jones said.
Jones smacked the gavel, and the congressmen in the room ran out like cockroaches running from the heel of a boot. Only Congressman Smith lingered behind. He waited until the room had emptied before he spoke.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” Smith said.
Jones rose from his chair, buttoning the jacket of his suit. He adjusted the American flag pin on his lapel and walked around the end of the table where Smith stood.
“Everyone’s on board, Smith. This is for the good of the nation, to ensure the rest of us survive, including you and your family,” Jones said.
“I’ll keep fighting this,” Smith said.
Jones put his arm on Smith's shoulder. The smile faded from his face. The pressure of his thin fingers pierced Smith's suit like needles on a pincushion.
“Then I will run you over and toss your corpse to the side of the road on my way to your family's house,” Jones said.
Jones readjusted his tie then plastered on his winning politician’s smile and headed out into the corridors of the capitol.
***
Smith's staff could barely keep up with him as he hurried down the capitol steps. Both of them were on their cell phones, their thumbs moving rapidly across the screens.
“I want to start back channeling immediately. I don't know how Jones managed to sway the others to support this bill, but he's not the only one with a voice in Congress,” Smith said.
His personal assistant, Jake, adjusted his glasses, keeping stride with Smith. Jake stood a good six inches taller than Smith. His large frame made him stand out like a sore thumb and made him quite a sight to see in his suit, which, despite his size, always looked too big for him.
Jake had been with the congressman for more than three years now. He had played a pivotal role in his reelection two years ago, and since then he hadn't left Smith's side.
“We can set up meetings as early as this afternoon. I know a key sta
te in the vote will be North Carolina,” Jake said.
“I'll start drafting a statement to make sure the public knows where you stand,” said Beth, Smith's chief of staff, press secretary, and legal adviser. Smith used to have someone in each position, but none of them performed to the level that Beth could.
“We'll have to watch the timing of that. Jones has done a good job keeping this quiet, and I don't want to cause unneeded panic if we're able to squash this thing before it starts,” Smith said.
Not a single strand of hair moved as Beth’s trademark blond bun slightly bounced to the rhythmic click of her high heels against the Capitol steps. The way she pulled her hair back tight displayed the sharpness of her cheekbones and chin more prominently. She had served with the congressman since his first election. She was the only other person in the world Smith trusted as much as his wife.
“You think he'll try and swing the sympathy vote for this?” Beth asked.
“People are scared, Beth. He'll use that fear to his advantage.”
“Ballsy,” Beth answered.
Jake opened the congressman's car door, and Smith stepped inside. The leather seats squeaked as he sat down.
“I have the meeting set up for two o’clock this afternoon,” Jake said.
“That doesn't give us a lot of time before the vote,” Smith replied.
“I know, but you'll be the last voice they hear right before, so make it resonate.”
Jake shut the door, and the driver pulled away. Smith looked over to see Beth smiling as she worked the screen of her tablet.
“Is it just me, or is he turning into you more every day?” Smith asked.
“Somebody has to take care of you when I'm not around,” Beth said.
“You're not going to divorce me, are you?”
“Only on the day you don't get reelected.”
Smith knew it wasn't a joke. Beth didn't have a reputation for staying with anyone who wasn't worth a damn. The fact that Beth recognized he was still useful made him appreciate her more.
“This is a dangerous move, David,” Beth said.
“It's a necessary move.”
“As your chief of staff, it's my job to inform you when your mouth is writing checks your ass can't cash, and this is one of them. You won't be able to get the votes you need to overturn this thing, and by resisting it, you're going to put a target on your back the size of Texas.”
Buildings, people, and cars all passed by them as their driver maneuvered the streets of DC. They drove past one of the trees allowed in the city by the water restrictions. The trees were few and far between, and the ones that remained barely carried any vegetation.
Trees weren't the only sparse commodity in the city. The grass of the National Mall was gone. It had been paved over with concrete four years ago, another sign of changing times and dwindling natural resources.
He'd been fighting for better water rights for years. There were methods by which the nation could have all the fresh water it needed, but they were blocked by certain individuals afraid to lose what money and power they held.
“I remember the first term I was elected. Remember that? When we arrived here, everything seemed so pristine, so grandiose. I thought DC was the most beautiful city I'd ever seen,” Smith said.
“That was over twenty years ago.”
“We can bring it back, Beth. I know we can.”
Smith felt Beth's hand grab his, and she squeezed. He turned from the window to look at her. She was shaking her head. A shadow of a smile was trying to break through.
“Well, it can't be harder than '03,” Beth said.
The driver rolled down the partition.
“We're here, Congressman,” he said.
Smith reciprocated Beth's squeeze.
“Let's get ready,” Smith said.
***
Congressman Daniel Hunter stood behind his desk, bent over, examining the proposal for Jones's bill. He had to read it a few times just to numb the shock of what Jones was proposing.
It wasn't just bold. It was psychotic. But he knew Jones had enough sway to pull it off. Daniel's stomach went sour. His state would be a player in the decision on the bill. If he opposed it, then it could affect his state's water distribution rights. If he voted for it, then he would be condemning everything he stood for and the entire legislative process he valued.
Meghan poked her head into his office. The quiet of his room was broken by the clatter and bustling of his staff in the anteroom.
“You received an invite for a two o’clock meeting,” Meghan said.
“With whom?” he asked.
“Congressman Smith.”
Daniel nodded, and Meghan closed the door, leaving him alone. He sank low into his seat and loosened his tie. He knew what Smith wanted.
He twirled his wedding ring around his finger, glancing at the picture of his family on his desk. It had been taken during their vacation last year in Florida. Most families couldn't take trips like that anymore. It was too expensive. However, his position in Congress allowed him special favors—favors that were largely granted by Congressman Jones. If he stood against him now, it wouldn't be just his career that suffered but his family's future.
But could Daniel forsake forty million people to do it? Could he betray his oath, his values, and his fellow citizens for the sake of his career?
Daniel's arms jolted when his chest started to buzz, breaking his chain of worry. He reached inside his jacket to grab his phone. The screen read “Amy.”
“Hey, honey,” Daniel said.
“Hey, how is everything going?”
“Fine. Have you spoken to your sister?”
“I just got off the phone with her. Did you hear about the flights getting grounded?”
Daniel rubbed his forehead. He felt himself retreating inward. His voice was muffled when he spoke next.
“I did,” he said.
He hoped she didn't ask him any more. He hated lying to his wife. There was a pause on the other end of the line. He waited, afraid of the question to come.
“Daniel, what's going on?”
The sour pit in his stomach returned. His face flushed red, and he broke out in a cold sweat.
“I have to get ready for a meeting,” Daniel said.
“Honey, talk to me,” Amy said.
Daniel let out a sigh. He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head.
“I can't tell you exactly what's happening, but it's really bad. You need to tell your sister to get out of the Southwest as fast as possible,” Daniel said.
“Daniel, what are they going to do?”
“Just tell her to get out.”
“Can you stop it?”
Jones's bill sat on top of his desk. The twenty pages in front of him were some of the most vile legislation he'd ever read. It would put a scar on the face of the country that would rival the Civil War.
The meeting with Smith was in an hour. Daniel knew Smith fairly well. The two of them had served on the military appropriations committee during his first term. Smith was a good man, and smart. He might have something for them to use, something that the rest of them hadn't thought of yet. Maybe there was a chance.
“I'll try,” Daniel said.
Chapter 4
Brooke paced the kitchen floor. Her hair was matted to her forehead. The phone felt like it was melting to her ear.
Emily was slouched in one of the kitchen chairs, her head resting on her arm, still clutching the suitcase on the floor next to her with one hand.
“There has to be something, anything that's available,” Brooke said.
“No, ma'am, I'm sorry. The FAA has grounded all commercial and private planes. No one is allowed to take off until the ban is lifted,” the operator said.
“Where are you located?” Brooke asked.
“My office is located in Oregon, ma'am.”
“Well, transfer me to someone in the San Diego area. I need to speak with someone that's actually here and ha
s a brain in their head!”
After a few moments of silence, the operator spoke very calmly.
“Ma'am, I understand your frustration. If you'd like, I can transfer you to my supervisor to help you with your concerns, but I must reiterate that no one can book you a flight right now.”
