by Jason Letts
“We haven’t exactly been broadcasting those polls. It’s possible he’s gotten the impression you’re surging. And he’s always been ruthless with his political opponents,” Dodson observed.
“Tell me about it.”
“Do you need to do a dry run before we record?” Dodson asked.
“No, this story tells itself. I’ve got it.”
Once everything was in place and the sunlight became slightly brighter, the crew handed Randall a microphone and gave him the signal to start. He had on a long-sleeved dress shirt and no tie or jacket, in the hopes of giving the impression that he might just be out for a stroll. Relaxed and congenial, he spoke into a camera facing away from the pit.
“Good morning, Cumeria,” he said, leaning against a mossy boulder in the meadow. “I’m in the coastal woodlands south of Ristle, where times are tough around here, what with the limited availability of goods coming in from around the country and scarce opportunities to market local products. What the people around here need is a break from bad news and help from the chancellor to make life easier, but instead they’re getting the opposite.”
Ruefully pursing his lips, Randall looked left of the camera and strode on toward the mound, which the camera swiveled to take in. He walked backward up the dirt pile as the camera slowly followed him to the top.
“Right now even the limited electrical power still available after the horrendous attack on the ClawLands has been cut off. As you can see here, this power loss affecting tens of thousands of homes isn’t the result of some unlucky malfunction. Instead, it’s a deliberate act of sabotage with the intent to keep a broad portion of our nation in the dark, preventing these Cumerians from both accessing the power they need to go about their daily tasks and from learning about the upcoming election.”
As the camera panned over the debris at the bottom of the pit, Dodson nodded to Randall. It was time to drive it home.
“That’s right. Chancellor Aggart knows the people of Cumeria strongly disapprove of his repressive tactics, but rather than change them he’d rather take away your electricity in addition to your rights. That’s why he ordered the Guard to keep this crucial voting block from knowing what’s going around the country, but it’s not going to work. I’ll be visiting the communities here and working to get them generators and supplies.
“Once again Chancellor Aggart has put his hunger for power over the needs of the people, but together we can change that. Don’t forget to vote, and don’t forget to send a message to the top of the Spiral in Toine that you want someone like you who’s looking out for your needs in charge.”
“And we’re clear,” Dodson said, allowing Randall to take a deep breath.
“How was that?” he asked. Dodson flashed a big smile and set down the camera. Some of the crewmembers were clapping.
“A little off the cuff, but it’ll do fine. Let’s wrap this up and move on to the towns. We’ve got a busy cycle ahead and if we don’t hurry we won’t make it back to HQ by the end of it.”
The rest of the cycle went just as smoothly, and to Randall’s surprise the people in the area were effusive with their praise. When Randall told them Aggart had shut off their power, the support he received was overwhelming. For the first time he felt like he was wowing people when he told them they had his support. And it didn’t hurt that the Lus were going to get right back to fixing the power, making it seem like he’d entirely fixed the situation.
The ride back to HQ was relaxed and jovial, and the crew wondered aloud what Aggart could do to provide a more clear-cut instance of evil to further ruin his reputation.
“I bet he’s always had a hankering to dropkick a baby,” one guy said.
“Maybe we’ll get some footage of him climbing into bed with one of the southern lords,” Randall mused.
“That would be bad, but I’d rather see him getting a little playful with some farm animals,” Dodson chuckled, and Randall looked at him skeptically.
“You’d rather see what? Is there something you’re not telling us?” Randall said, and the crewmembers erupted in laughter. Dodson’s face took on a mortified shade of crimson.
The jubilant mood continued all the way back to headquarters, where they found Floret sitting on the front steps looking like she’d been impaled on a dozen rusty screwdrivers. It immediately sucked all of the cheer from the group, and Randall could barely stomach finding out what it was.
“We’ve got a problem,” she said at last, handing a piece of paper over to Dodson. “Someone saw the story and started trying to find where the severed alpha line was buried. Turns out this one wasn’t an official line and never made it onto any of the grid maps.”
“It’s not here,” Dodson confirmed, noting the difference with his map. A sinking feeling took hold in Randall’s stomach.
“So what does this mean?” he asked.
“If it never made it onto the official grid maps filed with the government, there’s no way Chancellor Aggart or the Guard could’ve known where it was, much less dug it up and cut it.”
Randall glanced over at Dodson, whose mouth hung open.
“So if Aggart didn’t cut the line, who did? No, don’t answer that,” Randall said, getting heated. He pulled Angela Lu’s phone from his pocket and squeezed it as hard as he could. It didn’t break, but it did give him something to shout at. “What the fucking fuck?”
The crewmembers awkwardly glanced around at each other, but no one dared say a word. Finally Floret cleared her throat and dumped the verbal equivalent of gas on Randall’s burning rage.
“It’s possible it won’t be that big a deal, because in the competing messages about it no one’s going to actually know the truth of what happened.”
“I know the truth!” Randall hollered, angrier than he’d ever been and feeling like it was all slipping away. “And so does Aggart. I just lied to the entire country, blaming the chancellor for something we did. The only reason I agreed to all of this in the first place was because I wouldn’t have to lie!”
Randall took a few steps toward the hotel and then stepped back. The shouting had gotten the attention of its occupants, who were looking out the windows at them. He couldn’t go in there and stomp up the stairs to his room. It just plain wasn’t far enough away from the mess they’d thrown at him.
“Give me the keys,” he demanded Dodson at last.
“Where are you going?” Dodson returned, reaching into his pocket. “We have to get past this.”
Randall took the keys out of his hand.
“You know where I’m going,” he said, and Dodson sighed.
“We looked everywhere for her. You’re never going to find her. At least tell me when you’ll be back,” Dodson pleaded, but Randall was already heading for the van.
“It’ll be a surprise,” he said.
After slamming the door and turning the key, the clunky van came to life and carried him northeast on a relatively smooth dirt road leading to Toine. While stewing about how he’d been bent over, Randall’s mind tried to grapple with why Angela Lu would screw him over like that. From Iron City with its razor-sharp laws and citizenry of judges, she must’ve thought creating fraudulent stories to smear opponents was the norm, but she or whoever had carried out her orders hadn’t been careful about making it plausible. Randall’s best guess was that the fallout from the electricity loss would be a wash as both sides shouted unverifiable accusations at each other.
The only difference now was that the Vendetta Clause gave Chancellor Aggart full license to do whatever he wanted to the Cumerian people in the name of winning, because Randall had done it first.
He needed to find Cori, who would help him get out of this mess and salvage the campaign. His own staff had spent considerable time at his direction looking for her, but Randall wasn’t going to overlook any possible place she might be. His own office and residence had already been inspected, as well as most of the popular public spaces in town. She had to be somewhere.
Cori and Randall had
a number of secret hideaways where they could freely express their love. He’d mentioned a few of them to Dodson, but just because she hadn’t been there before didn’t mean she wouldn’t have shown up now. They loved taking day trips to cottages on the forest’s edge, a farmer’s secret bed and breakfast, and an old creamery they found while driving aimlessly, but one by one he found them to be completely vacant or lacking the woman he searched for.
After everything that happened that cycle, heading into Toine gave Randall serious pause. Sure, the chancellor had told the Guard not to eliminate him, but after his baseless accusations they might not be able to resist roughing him up, stuffing him into a garbage can, and tossing him in the river.
Randall kept off the main roads as he looked for his old stomping grounds, a dingy bar in arguably the worst part of town called the Downward Spiral. Inhabited mostly by vagrants, drunks, and other bottom-feeders, it was about the only place in town that Randall could meet up with Cori without it getting back to the respectable politicians in town. Creeping slowly by, he saw little had changed here since he nursed drinks and threw nuts at the screen the night the ClawLands had been attacked.
Stashing the vehicle in the back beside a grain alcohol still and a few out-of-commission toilets, Randall ducked inside and immediately approached a tired-looking woman washing glasses with a rag so filthy a mechanic wouldn’t use it for an oil change.
“Have you seen a woman in here lately, mousy hair, shapeless figure, hooked nose, and probably wearing a drab sweatshirt or old jacket?” he asked.
The bartender looked at him suspiciously.
“Friend, you just described every woman who’s ever set foot in this place.”
“Cori Kirpeera—does that name ring a bell?”
“I’m sorry,” the barkeep said, shrugging, and Randall thanked her before heading for the exit and getting back in his vehicle. He hadn’t expected finding her to be that easy, but there had to be a place she was hiding out while she waited for him to return. She must’ve known he was back and would be looking for her.
Hands on the wheel without the engine on, he looked ahead at some junk in various backyards, trying to think of where to find her. The place they first met, kissed, and knocked boots was at his office. That inspired him to bring in a bigger couch, where they’d spend hours talking and laughing without a stitch of clothing on in the middle of the night. Cori’s subtle wit and ability to cut through Toine’s incessant bullshit had always drawn him to her.
It reminded him of one time he’d asked her what she would do for a living if she could do anything.
“Without a doubt I’d hunt crab at Frosty Bay,” she’d said, referring to a place on the coast north of Toine, but Randall had chuckled and written it off as a joke. She often referred to other politicians as crabs, and tacking on Frosty Bay was a clever way of picking on their chilly personalities.
Randall switched on the engine, realizing there was some measure of truth in her joke. It took another couple of hours to get to the north coast, and more time to scout out any crab operations around the bay, but Randall was determined to find her before exhaustion got the better of him.
It was early in the cycle, and Randall stopped at an overlook to glance out across the shimmering stretch of water that always had some volume of ice in it. The temperature was uncomfortably low, making him cross his arms to keep warm. Just as he was beginning to think his frantic search was nothing but pure craziness, he spotted a single boat motoring out to some buoyed traps out in the bay. It was impossible to see who was operating the vehicle, but being the first one out there reminded him of how Cori was always at the office cleaning before anyone else arrived.
Putting the van in gear, he drove around the bay to the dock where the solitary boat had launched. By the time it came back, he was leaning against an icy wooden pillar. A huge smile dawned on his face when he recognized the woman steering the vessel. Cori tossed him a rope to tie off the boat, a satisfied smirk on her face.
“Looks like quite a catch today,” she said.
“Don’t say I never listen to you,” he remarked.
Cori hopped out of the boat and leapt into his arms. She nearly slipped on a patch of ice, but Randall grabbed on to her thick, drab coat and kept her from falling. They laughed for a moment before she looked him in the eyes. It was like they hadn’t been apart at all.
“I knew you’d find me when you wanted to badly enough,” she whispered, setting her head on his chest. Randall wished they could’ve gone on like that for cycles, tucking themselves away as the world went on without them, but Randall had spent too much time as it was, and the predicament he was in mauled his contentment like a bear.
“How much do you know?” he asked. Her sigh might’ve reflected her own wish for the pleasure of it to continue on, but she pulled away and stuffed her hands in her deep coat pockets.
“Everything. OK, maybe not everything, but more than you’d think for cloistering myself up here.”
“Then why didn’t you try to find me when you knew I was back? We were looking for you all over. I’m not going to say it would’ve been easier with you around, but damn if I wouldn’t have been happier about it.”
Cori bit her lip and then wiped her nose with her sleeve.
“Randall, what do you think’s going to happen to you if you lose? I couldn’t come rushing back only for you to get torn away forever. It would be too painful, and I couldn’t do that to myself,” she said, each note of sadness pushing Randall into a more melancholy mood.
“You’re right. I did come find you when I wanted you badly enough. We’re at a breaking point in the campaign after a stupid blunder that we may just skate by on. I need your help, because you’ve always had a better mind for it than any of the old staff. It’s not too late to win, but I can’t do it without you,” he said, reaching for her shoulder until she shifted away.
“I don’t think there’s any hope,” she said. Randall lowered his head. Even she needed to be convinced.
“Do you think what the chancellor did was right, dissolving the Grand Council and stoking animosity between the premier families?”
“No, but—”
“Is he really the one we need to give lifetime tenure and complete power over the country to, at the expense of everyone he happens to consider an enemy on one day or another?”
“No,” she said.
“Then if we know it’s wrong then we have to hope it’ll get better, and right now I’m the only one in a position to make that change. But it might only happen if we make it together,” he said, coming closer. It was freezing out, but the conviction he felt for it saved him from the bitter chill. Cori’s head rolled on her shoulder, and she shot him a skeptical glance.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, emotionless.
“I want you to get involved in the planning, help chart a strategy for closing out the campaign, all the things you used to do but never got credit for, and maybe introduce me at events like a big one we have coming up in Ristle. But mostly I just want you by my side,” he said, hoping that would seal it.
“Introduce you at events?” Cori spat out the words as if they tasted like a spoonful of horse manure. “I’m not a political prop!”
“Please, listen to me for a moment,” Randall insisted. “What we’ve been trying to do is find ways for me to connect with the people who are struggling, people who’ve been housekeepers or crab fishers just like you. I think having you on stage with me could be a huge breakthrough there.”
“I’m not going to do it,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her stomach. Now Randall was feeling the cold.
“Is that because you’re ashamed of who you are?”
“No, I’m not,” she said.
“Good, and you have every right to be proud of yourself. People will relate to you if you only give them the chance,” he pleaded, trying to get her out of her combative posture. Cori shook her head and grumbled.
“That’s
not the issue. What’s the point of having me introduce you if you’re already trying to play the role of the country bumpkin on stage?” she asked.
If only for a second, Randall glimpsed the focused, analytical side of her.
“Everything I’ve seen has told me that to win I need people to see me as one of them. That’s what separates me from Chancellor Aggart and breaks through the money being spent and the fighting going on. What would you have me do?” he asked, leaning forward and goading her. He knew her well enough to know that kind of pressure was likely to make her fight back.
“You really want me to tell you? Fine. People know a phony when they see one, and they can tell right away that you’re trying to be something you’re not. It’s the way you speak and move that can’t be covered up by a poor man’s suit. It’s all a sham. Randall, you’re a bozo attention-hog from a rich family who doesn’t know enough about the beef he eats to tell a cow’s mouth from its ass. But you’re also fiercely loyal, trustworthy, and well-intentioned, and I know in your heart you’re trying to run an honest campaign and make something good and accountable out of the Cumerian government.”
A smile broke on Randall’s face. He knew when he’d been pinned, and the stark truth of what she said couldn’t be denied. He’d tried being folksy, and it hadn’t worked. Now he had to own up to what he was and take a shot at leading with authority.
“I knew I liked you for a reason. Now let’s roll up our sleeves and get to work.”
As they’d gotten in the van and the misty bay receded behind them, Randall took the long road back to HQ with a new plan in mind for turning the campaign around, thanks to Cori. Her itinerate lifestyle was easy to leave behind, but other issues she raised were still out in the open before them. Randall needed to get public support on his side, because even if Taylor finished his job, it’d be ruinous to take office without most of the people behind him. If Taylor failed and Randall lost the election, everyone involved would pay the ultimate price.
Cori took over the drive after a while to let Randall get some rest. He felt safe in her hands in a way he couldn’t with Angela Lu’s media people around, nice as some of them were. Now he had the one person next to him who’d made him a successful politician in the first place.
