by David Hearne
The passage about the two men shot to death made Katherine almost drop her coffee. She was sure that they were the two men in her dream. The ocular prosthetic must have been the eye she had seen in her dream. She had thought it was a real eye, but it could have easily been a prosthetic. It was probably dislodged by the impact of the bullet or the fall to the concrete.
Before she could really digest this news, Ira handed her another note that stated, “Katherine, we hope the new lesson helped you understand our commitment. The interference in the lesson did upset some of our friends, and they feel that the next lesson needs to be your final one.” It was signed, “Your Colleagues.”
The note’s ominous tone made her want to scream in anger. She pushed it away and fought to control her thoughts. She felt a furious rage building inside of her. Ira massaged her shoulders and offered, “Honey, we have security, and they all know about these new threats. They are working on finding out who is behind it and providing even additional support for your protection. Katherine, the one silver lining in all this is the media and public have turned their eyes on to you. Your message may now get heard.”
Ira’s words were prophetic because change did occur to the point where Dick Montgomery’s murder appeared to have altered physics. Time seemed to accelerate and now a month became a week and a week a day. Time had collapsed into some tightening vortex that shrunk the hours as the day unwound. The murder of Dick Montgomery galvanized the public and drew people to Katherine’s cause. It was stronger than anything she had ever done intentionally to win voters. It seemed odd that the murder of a single man would polarize people more than the deaths of all the soldiers in Iraq, but war is too big and abstract for most to comprehend. Dick Montgomery’s death was easy to imagine with all its horror and pain, but the death of a soldier couched in some obscured casualty count does not evoke the same emotions. Especially, when written in some anesthetized fashion. Iraq’s deaths are relegated as filler paragraphs stuck between hemorrhoid ointment ads and half-page reports of some star’s traumatic experience when changing her hair color.
Katherine’s staff realized that this murder had done just the opposite of what their adversaries had hoped it would accomplish. It did not derail the campaign. Instead the tragedy pummeled it forward, making its numbers swell exponentially at a velocity that made the race inescapable for Katherine. It now controlled her, consumed her time and demanded her loyalty. She was its face, its voice, but no longer its captain.
* * * *
Suddenly, Father Grudzinsk interrupted the narration of Katherine’s campaigning. He crooned into his wireless mike, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I have exciting news for all. Senator Laforge has been found.” Yelling, whistling and applauding reverberated through the town hall. Father Grudzinsk just held the mike helplessly in his hand waiting for the bedlam to end. When it did, he said, “Senator Laforge is now on her way into the town hall and wishes to speak to all of us. I hope that after the horrific morning she endured, we can all agree to give her the courtesy of listening to her without interruptions or harassment. She has seen enough evil for one day, and it is time for her to experience the love of neighbors and friends again.”
“Hey, we have freedom of speech!” The proclamation floated weakly from some man’s mouth sitting with some out-of-towners. In response, a burly man shot up out of his chair. I recognized him as one of the Porter boys; a long time Charlestown local. He turned to face where the comment had come from and glared at a group of men whose faces took on that ‘Oh Lord, I shit my pants’ look.
In a crusty New England voice the Porter boy growled, “Now you listen flatlander—you have no business bein’ hearyah whatsoevah! And if you dayah open your mouth”, he says lifting one of his big fist, “I’ll knock the bejesus outa you and taint no one will stop me. Heyah?” He glowered at them for a second, and then a thunderous applause went up with a few “Damn flatlanders” tossed in. Porter sat back down and Father Grudzinsk said, “Let’s keep it civilized in here, now.” He actually sounded a bit bemused.
Father Grudzinsk’s announcement made my eyes tear up and my throat constrict. I felt my wife squeeze my hand, and I realized that my emotions were visible. I didn’t care. I loved Katherine, I loved what she had become, that she was my friend and even more what she had done for me. I felt so sorry for her and so terribly angry. It felt as if this day was some strange dream where all our lives had been sucked into this old town hall and stitched together into some mysterious web.
All of this bothered me even more because, Katherine was a woman who was good and truly wanted to do good things for all. I also knew that the war and the deaths of so many of her associates had made her question her faith and religious beliefs. One thing for sure she saw evil differently than ever before. The night before all this happened, when I was visiting her, the subject of good and evil came up and Katherine was very vocal about it. It had been a subject mentioned in many of her emails to me. Katherine had said that her view was not something she could go public with, without being ridiculed, so she shared it with only those she most trusted. Katherine believed that evil was like the air we breathe, an entity that surrounds us waiting for a chance to invade our consciousness and then spread like a cancer. She saw evil as a darkness that invades our souls, when we are weak or have lost empathy for others. Once it has entered our being, it thrashes about in our mind taunting us to do its bidding. Its messages often gnawing at our consciousness as thoughts that drive us to destroy or hurt even the ones we love most. Katherine had gone so far as to believe that this entity could actually be the manifestation of Sorat, the rarely spoke of spirit of evil that some theologians say is part of a trinity with Satan and Lucifer.
Talking to Katherine about evil and faceless entities who do not want our soul, but instead our very extinction was unnerving. Remembering that she said “Sorat waits for that day of storm, of blacken clouds, of lost ways before he flashes his shadowy image across your path. And then if you succumb, he becomes you.” That thought made me shutter because today was such a day.
The main door to the auditorium opened and about a dozen armed state troopers entered. Following them was Katherine escorted with more state troopers and some of the town’s deputies. She appeared unhurt, but she looked so much older than she had from the night before. She looked dazed and I wondered if she should be here at all. A thin smile seemed to faintly flicker on her face, but other than that she appeared grimly expressionless. As she moved toward the stage in the auditorium, Father Grudzinsk started his introduction, but no one listened. All eyes were on her as she strode to the stage. Those of us who really knew her probably all wanted to rush to her and hug her and give her our condolences. When I looked passed her, I saw plenty of teary eyes. There were so many of us who were saddened by the events of this morning.
Katherine climbed the few steps to the stage and Father Grudzinsk embraced her as they stood by the podium. He blessed her, and then walked to the side of the stage where two state troopers stood with their hands resting on their pistol grips.
In silence, Katherine gazed out at the audience, her eyes flitting back and forth over those who gazed up at her. The only sound was the light murmur of the camera crews and hushed voices of TV reporters as they shared this event with their viewers. Katherine poured a glass of water from a pitcher sitting at the podium and gulped it down.
Suddenly, Katherine spoke, “Thank you, for being here today,” her voice seemed distant as it floated out to replace the quiet of the room. Outside the wind battered the windows on the north side and dark clouds skittered across the afternoon sky. Katherine continued, “After the tragic events of this morning, it is very uplifting to feel the warmth and generosity from my friends, wonderful supporters and my former neighbors here in Charlestown. I am sure all of you know that today was a day of horror for me. A part of me was stolen; my husband and some of my dearest friends have been taken from me. They were people I loved. People who had been in my life intimately
, and who’s memories I will always cherish. It was also a bad day for you because today they stole from you the hopes and dreams that change was imminent.” Katherine stopped and took a drink of water. Her last words had been broken with emotions.
She looked hesitantly out at the audience and said, “I realize that you would like all the details about the attacks of this morning, but that is something I just cannot talk about right now. The major news channels and papers, however, will certainly provide all of you the details, gore and analysis for the next few days. I had come here intending to discuss our involvement in Iraq, but these morning events changed my priorities, and now while I have the courage and your interest, I wish to talk to you from my heart about America.”
“I have been involved in politics for most of my adult life and have always been proud that I was member of congress. This morning’s murderous attacks have shaken that view considerably. Those events brought me to the realization that we are a country that has evolved from a democracy into a plutocracy, a government where a select group of the wealthy decide and shape the laws of our nation through the subservience and obedience of many of my colleagues in the House and Senate. This I am sure sounds like the raving of a lunatic, or at least the venting of an angry old lady, but before you jump to conclusions, hear me out.”
A few sighs and murmurs rippled through the audience, but no one said anything discernable. While Katherine paused for a second, the reporters were busy rephrasing and repackaging her words in their whispery voices.
She cleared her voice and continued, “How has this happened? Well, we as citizens have become complacent and left the decision making entirely to our elected officials. Unfortunately, for many at Capitol Hill the power they wield is so exhilarating that to keep it, they prostitute their integrity for a handful of dollars they know will come if they stay in lockstep to Big Oil’s agenda and a few other powers. One of my most esteemed colleagues, Ron Paul once quoted that ‘Political power must be fiercely constrained by the American people.’ Today, his sage advice appears prophetic because we have basically become a serfdom under the boot of those wealthy individuals who sinisterly dictate the direction of our country to the very Representatives and Senators you elected to look out for your welfare. And we meekly accept this as our destiny and offer no resistance.”
Senator Laforge looked angry now as she spoke. “We are a country that places our soldiers in harm’s way to support hated totalitarian regimes, so Big Oil can maintain their sources for crude and ensure billion dollar profits. We watch our government launch programs to produce alternative energy from the least efficient methods known, while creating obstacles for those methods that are the most promising. How can they do this, you ask? Because we let them. Did your Representative promote the creation of biodiesel from soybeans instead of algae or block the import of inexpensive Brazilian ethanol with punishing tariffs. Did your Representative support the production of ethanol from corn instead of sugarcane? If the answer is yes to those questions, then your concerns, your welfare, and your future are of little interest to them because they voted to protect Big Oil’s interest not yours.”
Katherine paused for a moment and took another sip of her water. Outside the clouds continued to churn in the sky with billowing gray chunks drifting lower. Looking a bit pensive at the podium, she wet her lips and then began to speak into the microphone once more.
“We have a bureaucracy that has created an entire library of books to regulate and hold you accountable on how you pay your taxes, complete with severe penalties including prison if you misunderstand any of the rules buried in those millions of pages. But these same bureaucrats cannot put forth viable alternative energy programs that end our dependence on foreign oil. You need to question their sincerity. Are their failing alternative energy programs a result of their utter ignorance, or the consequence of their subjugation to Big Oil? Ladies and gentlemen, we need change. And that needed change won’t come from the cronies in Washington D.C., but from you electing new Representatives that have enough integrity and backbone to support your views and look out for your welfare. It is time that you begin to hold your Representatives accountable for the way they vote, and what they accomplish. They need to be voting for laws that make positive change toward moving away from foreign oil and replacing our abusive complicated and unfair tax system with a national sales tax. They need to be serving you. Your elected officials are your civil servants, not the lords of a fiefdom. Today we have a government full of elitists who view the citizens as vassals of their dominion.”
“Once again, let me reiterate. The rhetoric, legislation, and empty promises of government and its elected leaders will not bring about the necessary changes. For these changes to happen, each and every one of you must make it your responsibility to demand that your Representatives make energy independence from foreign oil and a national sales tax their top priority. This, ladies and gentlemen, is your responsibility. Will you do this?”
A huge applause exploded from the auditorium with foot stomping and whistling. I wondered if maybe she had touched a nerve and her speech would be this miracle that would cause these necessary changes. The noise was so great that a few icicles fell from the windows during this applause. Katherine appeared to smile from the exuberance of their applauding and then as the noise subsided, she continued.
“This message that I bring to you today triggered the murder of Ira, my husband, Frank Payne, my former campaign manager, Mr. Montgomery a biodiesel pioneer and dear friend and unfortunately many others. I hope you won’t let them die in vain. Even if they succeed in killing me, please take up the cause and help us as a country, once again to become a great nation. I pray that you will do the right thing and fight on. This country bled to be a nation of the people, by the people, and for the people. We need to embrace and honor those principles once again.”
“That is all I have to say other than Thank you for your support. I love all of you.” Katherine turned and the state troopers standing on the stage converged on her, and escorted her down the stairs and into the applauding crowd. I thought I could see the sparkle of tears on Katherine’s cheeks, but she still appeared to exude a smile to her friends and supporters as she was hustled to the rear door of the auditorium.
Part Twelve
Assassination Attempt
High over the pastoral town a slate gray sky spread like an endless canopy. Ragged edges of thinning clouds glowed as the sun’s rays burned through them. Deep within me, a similar glow flickered and radiated through the darkness of my subconscious. But questions plagued my mind. Ghost and shadows of the past continued to emerge from the secrets, and memories that Stacie, Tom, Vince, and I revisited so passionately earlier this morning. The rustic beauty of this austere New England town etched in pearly winter monotones lost a bit of its serenity from the dark secrets that had marred the day.
The conclusion to the morning attack was far from being perfect, but the Senator’s survival from assassination and her appearance made me feel proud to be her friend. In fact, I felt exhilarated from the excitement even as questions gnawed at my mind. A part of my exuberance came from the fervor of the Laforge supporters lining the street, waving placates and hastily made signs. Their passion created waves of emotions that soared to new heights as the town folks reveled in the success of their favorite daughter. Their cheers and chants drowned out the cold wind and their passion dulled the cold.
Stacie held my arm tightly as we stood there observing the events. Vince with his duct taped pants and Tom shaking from the cold stood close by sharing yet another moment together. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a police officer coming toward us, and I grew tense as he neared where we stood. Immediately, a wave of anxiety flooded my being. I heard Vince rhetorically ask, “What in the hell is going on now?”
The officer addressed the four of us and asked if we would come with him.
Stacie quickly asked, “What is this about?”
“I am not rea
lly sure. I was just asked to escort you to the Senator’s limousine, Ma’am. Other than that, no one told me anything more.” The officer replied.
All of us? Stacie asked.
“Yes, all of you, is what I was told.”
We all stood there mute for a long moment and then Vince said, “Hell, let’s go!”
The officer led us to a waiting patrol car and we all packed ourselves into it. I think all of us were very excited about being invited to visit the Senator. I know I was. The patrol car circled around the block to the back of the Senator’s motorcade. We pulled up alongside a couple men dressed in long heavy coats with radio headsets over their ears. They greeted us and motioned us out of the patrol car. The tallest of the men offered his hand to me and told me he was happy to meet friends of the Senator. He said, “The Senator thinks highly of you, and is looking forward to seeing you.” He opened the door to the limousine and asked us all to enter and get comfortable. We did as he asked and climbed into the limo. After everyone was in, he poked his head in and said, “We are going to drive to the town hall and the Senator will enter the limo there. She felt it would be easier to have all of you riding in the limo before we got there and less obvious to the public about your impromptu meeting with her. I hope you understand her concerns and are not offended. Please accept our hospitality, relax, take a drink from the bar or watch the TV until we get to the Town Hall.”
