Nation Divided

by Drew Avera

  My thoughts returned to living at home with my parents. My father told me that if I always did the right thing, I would be rewarded for it. He said it might not be monetary, but most treasures were internal anyway. I felt that I understood his words now, better than I had before. My reward was justice and I finally understood why God had condemned me to this line of work. My service to my country, to the men and women of the American Union, was to preserve their way of life by preventing the dead from rising again and unleashing havoc on our society.

  I felt a small smile form on my lips as purpose flooded into my being. I knew that God's will would be done and sometimes it would hurt like hell, but that was a burden that I was more than willing to bear.

  25

  PRESIDENT FULTON

  "I want to stress to you how important it is that these trade talks go well, Stephen. I know that you are still reeling from your loss, but there are some things that need to take precedence right now. I'm sure you understand," I spoke the words as Stephen sat silently, his face void of expression. I knew that the grief of losing his wife weighed more heavily on him than the late-hour meeting. Still, I wished he would show some concern for the task at hand.

  "Yes, sir," he said, his face solemn.

  My heart would go out to him if I didn't loathe the bastard so much. I had such high hopes when he joined our cause, but now I just had hopes that he would make it until I could find a suitable replacement, reelection be damned. I could change parties with ease; they were nothing more than different sides to the same coin.

  "I tell you what, why don't you take your children with you? Maybe you can stay a few extra days and give them a chance to experience the outside world and put some of their pain behind them." That statement seemed to bring a little light to his face.

  "Thank you," he replied. "I'm sure the change of scenery will do them some good." He rubbed his hands together as if trying to bring warmth back to them despite being in an overheated e room.

  "Of course it will, and I hear that London is very beautiful this time of year. Just remember that the primary task is to open up trade negotiations in our favor. England has spent decades shunning the American Union for its acts during the second civil war. Those times are behind us and I hope that recent events will not damage the opportunity to reopen the doors to a solid relationship with them. Our economy surely depends on it."

  "I understand. I've already read through the scripted responses and possible off-topic discussion points. I will memorize them on the flight over and execute them as you have directed."

  I placed a hand on his knee, which made him look at me. "I believe you will do just fine, Stephen. Now go and prepare for your flight in the morning."

  "Yes, Mr. Fulton. Thank you." Stephen rose and left me in the dark office. His slumped shoulders made him look like the weight of the world was bearing down on him. Perhaps it was, but he truly had no idea the extent of it.

  The secret door in the office opened once Stephen was gone, and my aid walked in, a stoic expression on his face. "Good evening, Mr. Fulton."

  I moved my wheelchair in order to face him directly. "Yes, what is it, Jared?"

  He crossed his arms, showing the bulky muscles that corded beneath the sleeves of his suit. He was not a very tall man, but he was solidly built. His graying hair was combed back and his deep-set brown eyes seemed to thrive on whatever contempt was buried inside him. "I do not want to rain on your parade, sir, but I'm not sure this plan of yours is going to go the way you have planned. That man is far too emotionally detached from his job to do a service to this administration."

  I was slightly amused by his candor, however misplaced his tact was. "I understand your concern, but believe me when I tell you that everything is in order."

  "But—"

  "But nothing. This is my administration and I will run it as I see fit. I have well-laid plans that will not be encroached upon because of a little emotional hiccup. I have spoken to him and I am confident that he will perform as necessary. In fact, I am counting on his personal loss to be a useful tool in developing trade negotiations. Let's not forget that the pain of loss is universal and his won’t be ignored by compassionate people. I just hope that that compassion and intelligence go hand in hand when it comes to Prime Minister Leonard. If not, I have a plan for that as well."

  Jared looked like a scolded dog; if he had a tail, it would be firmly tucked between his legs. "I'm sorry, sir. I just wanted to make you aware,"

  "I am fully aware. Thank you, but I'll take it from here."

  "Yes, sir, my apologies.”

  "Don't apologize. Just get the hell out!"

  He turned to leave me in the solitude I craved. I sat still and collected my thoughts. He felt that there were dangers in sending Stephen to England, and there were, but everything was manageable. A man doesn't come to power without knowing the system by which he will operate. He was right, though. Stephen would not do a great service to the American Union, and that was exactly what I was counting on.

  26

  SYDNEY TYLER

  The stark white walls of the room were as unforgiving as the sun when the light reflected off of them. The place had a sterile smell, something reminiscent of bleach and ammonia. I could see some discolored spots on the floor that were the only evidence the room was ever used for anything. A television hung from the wall was dead, and I could see my reflection in its black screen, like some ghostly presence that did not belong here.

  My hands were free as they rested on the wooden table in front of me. The metal chair was without a cushion and the hours of sitting were starting to make me feel more uncomfortable than the silent solitude in which I waited. I wondered many times why I was being held, but I knew why; I just didn't want to admit it to myself.

  The world was going insane. The opposing factions of government were locked in a stalemate that had lasted over half a century, and the people were paying for it. Freedom of speech was a thing of the past, like other freedoms continually suppressed through bureaucracy.

  Fear mingled with anger as I took a deep breath. I longed for someone to walk through the door and to release me from this bondage. I could only think of it in negative terms, mostly because that was the society I had grown accustomed to. I was outspoken in my line of work and I had paid for it on several occasions. I knew that I was now paying for the words spoken by my guests who were not limited in their speech the way we Americans are now. My boyfriend, for example—his scathing words against our president surely pissed off the administration.

  I knew the risks long before I took the job. Naivety made me think I could make a positive change in the world, to be a herald, harking back to pre-millennium America. The country founded on something more than political power and corruption. It was founded by men who had given their lives for that freedom, which was now scattered in the wind like ash.

  Sacrifice was the one thing that I thought would be unnecessary in revolution. Why can't people listen to reason? Why can't we peacefully rise up and take the reins of our own lives without the threat of death looming over us? It worked in the past. At least until it worked no more and the country tore itself apart in chaos.

  A tear rolled from my cheek as I realized that the battles had only begun. The Chicago Massacre was but the beginning. The war machine of the American Union was primed against its own people, and in its wake there would be only death. I did not know who would survive, but inside I knew who would not. I knew that I would be counted among the first to fall before the authority of President Fulton and his regime.

  I said a silent prayer to a God I did not know existed. Were my words empty, hollow things that floated to nothingness beyond my reality? I hoped not. It was the last thread of hope to which I could cling, helpless in a life that was beyond my saving, beyond anything anymore.

  27

  PETER DRAKE

  The precinct was afire with gossip as I walked through the lobby. Everyone was massed in huddled forms as sp
ectacular stories were trending from the latest news feed. I moved with determined steps towards my cubicle, not wanting to miss the opportunity to be seen hard at work as others neglected their duties to swarm in muttering foolishness.

  Besides, I had my time in the sun last night. My thoughts drifted to James' dead body riding on the hood of the vehicle as the siren blasted in the Chicago streets. It was a fool's parade to say the least, but it was an effective tool to evoke fear in others. If we could kill one of our own, then what prevented us from killing any of the myriad tenants of our society? I hoped they realized nothing would deter us from our tasks, our mission to promote the will of the President of the American Union.

  I felt like a patriot for doing my part, even if it was a setup.

  "Peter, you're hard at work I see." The Chief walked up behind me and would have startled me, had I not seen his reflection in my monitor a few seconds before he spoke. I stood up to render a show of respect that most officers did not use. I felt it set me apart, and I could tell it did by the look in his eye.

  "Yes, Chief, I was just getting started with my shift."

  He looked at his watch. "Forty-five minutes early too. That's the kind of diligence that will save our country." He smirked as he patted me on the shoulder. "Say, is that blood on your neck there?" he gestured to a part of his own neck to let me know what he was talking about.

  "I don't know," I said. I should have been shitting myself in fear, but constant control over one’s faculties was essential at a time like this. I rubbed my hand over the spot on my neck and a dim hue of red rubbed off onto my fingers. "Oh, I guess I might have nicked myself shaving."

  "Yeah, it happens to best of us. Why don't you go get cleaned up real quick? I don't want anyone thinking you're about to bleed to death after the tremendous thing you did for us last night."

  "Alright, sir, thanks for letting me know." I stepped away from him and held my hand up to my neck to cover the spot, not knowing how serious it looked. I imagined it wasn't very bad if no one else had noticed, but some people were more observant than others.

  I looked back to see the chief sitting at my desk and monitoring my work while I was gone. I didn't need unnecessary questions. Not after what had happened this morning. I could see the report on every TV in the office. A murder/suicide had been discovered a few blocks from this very precinct. I knew all about it, but my coworkers didn't know that, they didn't know the intricate details of the slaying that had taken place. They didn't know the feeling of a fading heartbeat as it died in your grip. They didn't know the darkness as romantically as I did, nor would they understand it.

  I had a mission in this life that did not need to be hindered by those who do not understand. I would not let those ignorant supporters of the "outlier" community pervert our society with their misguided proclamations about of freedom stand in my way. There was no place for it in this society any longer. There was only order, my order.

  I could feel myself whispering the words as I walked and I had to check myself before someone overheard. I needed to be careful; I did not have room for mistakes in my life. I could not fail before the mission was done. I looked around the room and wondered just how many it would take before I had accomplished my goal. Ten or twenty of them? Did I have to end all of their lives in order to succeed?

  I didn't know the answer to the questions, but I knew how to solve for the solution. Happiness warmed my heart as I entered the bathroom to clean Matilda's blood from my neck. I was a king in a kingdom full of secrets and I would die with those secrets, but at least I would die with peasants to keep me company.

  28

  SYDNEY TYLER

  The door opened with a pop of the latch as two uniformed security guards stepped into the room. One of them carried a video camera while the other held a laptop computer in his hands. Both men looked to be about thirty years old and were clean cut. There was nothing about either one of them that really stood out; they just kind of existed and were very forgettable-looking. I held onto that thought as they set the camera up in front of me. I didn't know if I would ever get out of this room, but if I did, I wanted to know who was responsible for this.

  Neither of them spoke during the setup process. There were subtle gestures between them as they worked together, and no words were exchanged. It was something that I was used to, though, working in television. Half of the directions given to me were silent cues.

  "What's going on?" I heard myself ask out loud. I don't know why I asked because I didn't expect them to respond.

  "We are setting up a satellite feed between you and Prime Minister Leonard," one of them said, causing my jaw to drop. After hours of silence and fear I finally had a question answered.

  "Why?" I asked, urging another answer to a burning question.

  He looked at me with a furrowed brow. "No more questions, Ms. Tyler. We will provide the information you need once we establish a connection." He practically spat the words at me.

  "Hold on a minute, why am I here?" I pushed my luck with my defiant questioning.

  He turned to me and glared as he moved his jacket aside and showed a Taser. It was not deadly, but I was sure it would hurt like hell. That thought kept me silent as they finished their task.

  The computer chimed different sounds as it came online, and within a few minutes I could see Frank sitting at the other end. He was dressed in his usual suit and tie, but there were worry lines on his face that I was not used to seeing.

  "Sydney?" he asked with a bit of despair in his voice.

  "Yes, it's me, Frank," I said.

  "Prime Minister Leonard, I want to make myself perfectly clear. I work for an organization that supports the American Union's government. We are not affiliated with that government; we are patriots to the cause. We are not impressed by the disdain with which you acknowledge the leader of our country, or by the sanctions that have stifled trade between our countries. This is not a threat, Prime Minister; be sure of that. We are here to inform you that if trade negotiations are not successful when President Fulton departs from England, we will be forced to kill Ms. Tyler."

  "Wait just a damned minute," Frank began to say, but the man speaking cut him off.

  "There is no waiting, Prime Minister. You will deliver a public apology for the slander you have invoked through your media and you will open trade routes with the American Union. You will not demonize our President, nor will you speak about the duress Ms. Tyler is currently under. Any failure to perform as we have demanded will result in her swift and bloody demise. Once we are satisfied, we will release her. Do you understand?"

  Tears welled in my eyes as those words were spoken. I could see the grief on Frank's face as he realized there was no way for him to come out from under this. He either made himself look a fool by denouncing what he had said, or I would be killed.

  "Do you understand, Prime Minister?" the man behind me asked, his tone harsh.

  Frank blinked away a tear and I could see anger creeping on his face. He spoke with a wavering voice. "Yes. I understand fully."

  "Very well, you have four hours to comply with the denouncement. Once that it done we will contact you again."

  Frank started to speak again when the screen went blank. The connection was broken and I was once again alone. Not physically, but emotionally.

  The two men grabbed the computer and stepped out of the room without uttering a single word. As I sat there, a horrifying thought came to mind. What if they had no intentions at all of freeing me? What if he did as they said and I was killed anyway?

  I didn't want to know the answer.

  29

  SYDNEY TYLER

  Within the hour one of the security men stepped into the room and stood behind me. He lifted a small plastic device and within a second or two the television mounted on the wall in the corner of the room came to life. I could see the banner depicting the AUM (American Union Media) where I worked scrolling along the bottom of the screen displaying a message that Pri
me Minister Leonard was minutes away from a press conference, and it was scheduled to be aired world-wide.

  I swallowed hard, knowing that he would be committing political suicide by siding with the AU after over a year of campaigning against it. He was, for all intents and purposes, bedding the political enemy. I could see Parliament seated as the camera panned from side to side, and I felt nervous when it zoomed in on Frank while he took his place in front of them, microphones jutting from every direction, capturing his words to disseminate them all across the world.

  The grim look on his face was still evident to me as he spoke.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have an announcement to make. Over the past year, I have made many remarks concerning the government of the American Union. I have often belittled President Fulton's ability to rule a country whose moral compass—I have gone on record as saying—is incapable of pointing north. I have spewed political propaganda against Mr. Fulton on almost every media outlet.

  "That does not make my words true, however. My choice in maligning Mr. Fulton was a weak decision on my part. Instead of bridging the gap between England and the American Union, I have piggybacked on the sanctions put in place several decades ago by men and women who have come before me. Instead of taking a leadership role in mending broken relationships, I have taken a supporting role in driving us further apart.

  "That ends today. I would like to renounce the disservice I have done to President Fulton by my words and by my deeds. From now on I will take a more active role in building relationships and fixing what has been damaged in the last several decades. President Fulton is scheduled to arrive here later today, and we will immediately begin negotiations to open trade routes between the AU and England. It is my sincere hope that other nations will take note and open their arms and their hearts to the American Union. Isolating them for the last fifty years was wrong and we should all take a good look at ourselves before passing judgment on others. Thank you for your time. Advance, Britannia! God save the King!"