by James Hunt
The other male on the program chimed in. “You mentioned China’s population turning on its government. What’s to say that can’t happen here?”
The old man smiled. “Hasn’t it already? Have you not seen the news? The rioting about the exile of the Southwest? The water shortages? The war with Mexico? I would say we’re already on the verge of that.”
The blonde woman shook her head. “Those are symptoms. Symptoms of a much larger problem. This debate tonight is not about water or the war or the exile. It’s about the fundamental process of what our country was built on and the preservation of that. Congressman Smith has done everything to try and bring us back from the edge, and all he’s gotten in return are ludicrous allegations of treason, which he was of course cleared of.”
The other woman on the program raised her hands, trying to bring the tension down. “All right, guys. We’re approaching the beginning of the debate. It’s time for predictions. Bob?”
The old man clapped his hands together and rubbed them thoroughly. “I think Smith has an uphill battle. The treason charges really worked against him, and I don’t know if the American people trust him anymore. I’m going Jones.”
“Tim?”
“Jones is too much of a seasoned veteran. He’s been around Washington for a very long time. This guy doesn’t lose.”
“Kathy?”
“Smith. I think he’ll be prepared, and the American people will forgive him once they see the type of plan he has laid out. Jones doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Well, there you have it. No matter who our experts are rooting for, it’s going to be a heated debate, and from what I’ve heard so far, it’s going to be close.”
The panel of experts was replaced by an advertisement that pictured a family picnicking in a green field of grass. The scene was sunny, with blue skies, and each face was smiling. In the center of the picnic sat a jug of water, from which the son of the make-believe family poured himself a crystal-clear glass. The boy took a sip and smiled. Then the words “Keeping your family’s water safe for over one hundred years” appeared on the screen. The logo of the Strydent Chemical Company flashed on the screen, then the television switched to another commercial.
All of the color from Amy’s face had drained away. Her hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting in her lap. Her eyes were glued to the television. Brooke took her hand and placed it over her sister’s. Amy looked up at her and tried to smile.
“Have you heard from Daniel?” Brooke asked.
“No.”
Amy spoke softly. Brooke thought that her sister’s voice would break if she spoke too loud. Brooke squeezed Amy’s hand.
“It’s going to be okay,” Brooke said. “Smith is going to wipe the floor with this guy, and afterward, everyone will see what this Jones character really is.”
“Right.”
A few thumps sounded from above, followed by laughs and giggles.
“Hey, be careful up there,” Brooke yelled.
A unified “sorry” echoed from Brooke and Amy’s daughters. Amy continued to watch the commercials with focused concentration.
“I’m going to check on the boys,” Brooke said.
Amy nodded, and Brooke gave her sister a kiss on the side of her head. “I love you.” The only response Brooke received was a faint sniffle. She walked toward the back of the house, where John and Kevin had disappeared. Through the back-door window, she could see the two of them in the yard with their backs turned to her. Both their heads were down, looking at something.
“Hey,” Brooke said, opening the door. “What are you two doing?”
John and Kevin turned around a little too quickly. John kept his hands behind his back.
“Nothing,” John answered.
“What do you have, John?” Brooke asked. The two of them looked like deer frozen in headlights. “C’mon. Give it here,” Brooke said.
John pulled his hand from behind his back and opened his palm, which held Brooke’s loaded revolver. Brooke stepped forward and grabbed the pistol carefully out of John’s hand.
“What are you doing with this?” Brooke asked harshly. “This isn’t a toy!”
“Kevin had never seen one. We weren’t going to shoot it,” John answered.
“Don’t tell my mom,” Kevin said, quickly.
“Your mother has enough on her plate without having to worry about this. Now go back inside and check on her. The debate’s starting soon anyway,” Brooke said.
Kevin headed back inside with his head down, shuffling his feet. John attempted to sneak away with him, but Brooke grabbed his arm. “You hold up a minute.”
“Mom, look, I’m sorry, okay? I told you we weren’t going to shoot it.”
“John, you shouldn’t have shown your cousin this.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s younger than you are, and he’s never had any firearm training. And you’re no expert yourself, either.”
“I know how to use it. You don’t think I can handle it? What have I been doing for the past week, Mom? Have I not been able to keep it together?”
John’s voice rose. His face flushed red. He seemed taller to Brooke. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but it seemed like he’d shot up a few inches out of nowhere. She felt like she was looking up at him.
“You’re right,” Brooke answered. “I’m sorry. It’s just… with everything that’s happened, I don’t want you to lose the part of yourself that is most important. You’ve grown up a lot, and I just don’t want it to happen too fast. You’ve got a lot ahead of you, so just cool it with the guns. Try talking about girls for a bit.”
“Mom,” John responded, a little exasperated.
Brooke laughed. “Go inside. Make sure Eric’s still alive.”
Brooke gave John a push as he headed back inside. She watched him disappear down the hallway through the back-door window and then turn to climb the stairs. Once John was out of sight, she looked back down at the revolver in her hand. Brooke knew things would be different moving forward, regardless of what happened with everything else. No matter what road they traveled down, she couldn’t make John unsee everything that had happened.
One of her biggest fears would be to have John experience the same foreign feeling that Brooke felt in that house. She didn’t want him to be like her. She didn’t want him to feel like there wasn’t any safe place left. She didn’t want him to have his guard up all the time. He needed to be a teenager, not a fugitive in hiding. Brooke just wasn’t sure if she’d be able to join her family in that normalcy.
***
Smith adjusted his tie in the mirror. He was clean, shaved, and dressed to the nines. The dressing room where he waited for the final call from the producers was small. The only other objects that joined him were the mirror, a desk, a chair, and a small couch behind him. He pulled his sleeve up to check his watch. The second hand seemed to stand still.
Beth had left him thirty minutes ago so he could be alone. It was their ritual before every debate he’d had. Beth would spend the morning quizzing him, testing him on the subject matter that could be brought up and any curve balls that would be thrown at him from either the moderator or his opponent.
Then, after he’d passed through the final gauntlet Beth made him run, he’d lock himself in solitude. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, undisturbed. He enjoyed the quiet before all the noise, the lights, and the tension. It was during these moments that he could see everything clearly.
But this time felt different. Smith wasn’t sure if he would get another chance like this. There was too much at stake. This would be the turning point of the country, where it would either continue down its path of destruction or begin heading down the road of recovery. Smith knew both roads were one-way streets.
“Congressman? We’re ready for you,” one of the producers came into say.
Smith nodded and followed the young man through the halls of the studio. Every person he passed stopped what they were doing to watch
him walk by. Smith wasn’t the only one who knew the gravity of this debate.
The lights nearly blinded him when he stepped out on stage. Jones was already at his podium, looking over some of his notes. The moderator was in place, and the cameras were set. Behind the cameras, there was no audience, just a few other producers and stagehands.
“You can take your place right here, Congressman. And if you can put this mic on, we’ll get started.”
“Thank you,” Smith said, pinning the mic on his lapel.
“Congressmen,” the moderator said. “When I get the green light, the cameras will open up on me, and as I introduce you, the cameras will move to you. I know this isn’t the first time for either of you, so I’m sure this will go smoothly.”
The producer gave a thumbs up and started the countdown.
“Okay, and we’re on in five, four, three,” the producer held up his hands signaling two then one and pointed to the moderator as the lights flashed on.
“Good evening. Welcome to tonight’s debate between Congressman David Smith and Congressman Raymond Jones. Gentlemen, answers will be limited to two minutes, and rebuttals will be one minute. The timer will begin after the end of my questions. Congressman Jones, you will be receiving the first question. What does the United States have to gain with the war against Mexico?”
“Nothing. We have absolutely nothing to gain. It’s a waste of resources and we’re putting our soldiers at unnecessary risk. And I would dare to say that the president agrees with me. Just the other day, I was sent to Mexico City to discuss the terms of a cease-fire. I believe a final draft was just drawn up,” Jones answered.
The moderator turned to Smith, who was meticulously taking notes. “Congressman Smith, same question.”
“I would have to say I agree with Congressman Jones, but what Jones failed to mention was his prior involvement with the Mexican government in the first place. Congressman Jones has been back-channeling with Mexican officials to work on a military strike against the Brazilians. I think we would all like to know why Congressman Jones is trading one war for another—one that could put us at odds with the Chinese, who have developed a strong relationship with Brazil.”
“That’s quite a statement, Congressman Smith. What do you have to say to those allegations, Congressman Jones?”
“Well, Congressman Smith, yes, I have been doing some back-channeling, but it’s been to prevent war, not engage in it. All of my talks with the Mexican officials have been to help us come to an understanding of where our two nations exist. Talks of Brazil may have been brought up, but I think we would all agree that Brazil as an ally would be far better than an enemy.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” Smith said.
“Congressmen, please,” the moderator cut in. “Moving on to the next question. Congressman Smith, your involvement with Bill HR 285016 was widely publicized three years ago and then again several weeks ago. Why do you think that this bill is the answer?”
“The bill isn’t the answer. The only thing the bill offers is the chance for the answer to work. Dr. Carlson’s filtration system is foolproof. The bill would allow him to build a factory and make it legal to sell and distribute the water purified by his process. This would alleviate our water problems, boost the economy, and save our way of life.”
“Congressman Jones, same question.”
“I remember the hearings on Bill HR 285016, and from what I recall, third-party scientists debunked Dr. Carlson’s method stating, and I quote, ‘inconclusive results from our tests lead us in a direction where we cannot endorse this method due to health concerns’ end quote. And if scientific evidence wasn’t enough, then what about the voice of the people? Public support for the bill plummeted once this research was published. I still don’t understand why Congressman Smith insists on trying to overturn our citizens’ clear statement that they don’t want anything to do with Dr. Carlson’s filtration process.”
Jones had always been slippery. It was how he’d survived in politics for as long as he had. Smith looked down at his notes, more out of habit than need. He knew every syllable on those cards like the hairs on the back of his hand. He needed something more. He needed to drive the point home.
“Congressman Smith, rebuttal?”
“You know, in my political career, which has spanned almost two decades, I’ve come across a lot of questionable decisions. I’ve been involved in some of them myself. The choices we face as congressmen are supposed to be simple. The people guide our decisions… but the truth is that’s not always the case. Sometimes we choose to go off the beaten path and forge our own agendas. Every congressman has done it, myself included. However, I’ve found that there are two types of paths that a congressman will go down when faced with that crossroads. The first is to go the way of self-indulgence to ascend in his or her career. This road is filled with bribes and lies. This path in no way helps the people or the country, no matter what lies politicians tell themselves. The second is much harder. It takes you down a path that serves the people but, at times, can conflict with your own self-interest. I’d like to say that I’ve chosen this path more times than the other, although I know that wouldn’t be entirely true. But that’s what I’ve done in this case. In fact, right now, off the coast of Canada in the city of Halifax, I have a team working with Dr. Carlson to continue his work. I acted alone in this, but I did so with only the best of intentions for my country and the citizens I serve.”
“Congressman Smith, are saying that you’ve set up an illegal water operation on foreign soil?” the moderator asked.
“Yes. In fact, I had a meeting earlier today with Senator Harris about establishing a new relationship with the Canadians to allow Dr. Carlson to continue his work in exchange for debt forgiveness on the Great Lakes loans.”
The producer behind the moderator was motioning for him to cut to commercial.
“Well, we’re getting word we need to take a quick break, but I think I know where we’ll pick up when we return,” the moderator said.
The camera stayed on the moderator’s smile for a few seconds, then the lights faded to black.
“Call the authorities. This man has gone behind the backs of every government official and put not just our country at risk but the lives of the Canadians!” Jones said.
“Actually, I had a meeting with the Canadian ambassador a few days ago,” Smith said. “The Canadian government is very excited for the opportunity.”
Jones’s jaw went slack. He moved his mouth, but no words would form. Jones disappeared backstage and didn’t return.
***
There wasn’t a face in the living room that wasn’t smiling. Amy was so happy she was crying. John and Kevin were fist pumping, Gabby and Emily were running around the couches, and the noise had woken Eric from his painkiller slumber.
When the moderator came back on and announced that Jones had left the debate, Brooke was in shock. The fact that he just disappeared like that without explanation said everything she needed to hear. She just hoped that the rest of the country heard it as well.
The news anchors from earlier reappeared on the screen to help fill the dead air. The two men were in shock, and the blonde woman who’d chosen Smith to win the debate was all smiles.
“That was the strangest ending to a debate I have ever seen,” the older man said.
“We’re receiving analytics from our online polls in regard to the debate, which had more than ninety million viewers. It is the highest-rated debate in history. We had a few questions on our polls tonight to see how the American people felt each of their congressmen performed. The first question was, ‘Which congressman aligned with your personal views?’ And the results are a staggering eighty-three percent for Congressman Smith.”
“Wow. That’s unbelievable.”
“The next question we polled with our viewers was, ‘Do you agree on the war with Mexico?’ The results here are a little more even. Sixty-one percent say ‘no’ while thirty-nine
percent say ‘yes’. And our final question in the polls was ‘Given the chance to support Bill HR 285016, would you?’ This is by far the most interesting statistic: eighty-nine percent of viewers said they would. Eighty-nine.”
Another roar of cheers filled the living room. This was it. This was the beginning of going home. If people were willing to give Dr. Carlson’s method a try, then there was no reason the Southwest couldn’t rejoin the Union. There would be enough fresh water to last for generations to come.
Emily came up next to Brooke on the couch and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. Brooke picked up her daughter and lifted her into the air, twirling them both in circles. She pulled Emily in and squeezed her like she would never be able to let her go. Brooke just might be able to go home after all.