“Why do you think she did that? Why wasn’t this interview live when all the rest were? She must have been planning this and for that very reason.” He could be angry or upset with this, but he smiles instead, which confuses me.
Dougall would have known that if this interview was live, we would be watching the interviews as they were happening. She also knows us all well enough to know we would make sure everyone would be mentioned because we all genuinely like one another… well, minus Marisol. She planned it like this so we would be forced to choose without knowing who other people picked.
It hits me. “So she was trying to get Lyncoln and me more votes.”
I look at them. My competition. I know Dougall believes in us, but I thought she was on the same page as us in that as long as Marisol and Henry don’t win, the winners don’t matter.
“I’m sorry, guys. That sucks. It wasn’t fair to you guys.” I shake my head in disbelief as it sinks in.
“It was the first fair thing so far,” Knox argues in disagreement. “She didn’t tell us in advance or force us to pick you guys, we did because it was how we really feel.”
“That’s how it should be,” Maverick backs him up.
“Yeah, but this feels dirty,” I argue, still not okay with it.
Why did Dougall do this? To our friends. To Marisol and Henry, fine. But to the other couples, it was a low blow.
“Reagan. It’s going to be you guys against Marisol and Henry in the end,” Elizabeth says sure.
What did she just say? Has she lost her mind? “What?!”
Attie holds onto my hand and gives it a squeeze as Elizabeth keeps talking, “Look, Daddy has been trying to get as many votes for you guys as possible. We,” she points to Maverick and back to herself, “don’t even really want this that bad. All we ever wanted was to make it far enough to be able to get married. I mean, it would be great to move Mav’s family here, but I don’t really think I want to be Madam President. I don’t want that spotlight and responsibility. This country is a mess and the Culling by itself is exhausting enough. And I don’t want our kids to be at risk because of what we do.” She explains it simply and ends on a shrug like it’s the easiest decision in the world.
“What?” I repeat.
This time it’s Attie who speaks. “I don’t think I really want it that bad either.”
“What?” I keep repeating myself. Why do all these people keep saying this? Do they not realize how dangerous Marisol and Henry winning would be?
“Don’t get me wrong, I want it and I want to win. I would do it. I would do it to the best of my abilities. But, I don’t want it if I’m not the best person for the job. And I’m not.” She smiles at me supportively. “You are.”
“Agree to disagree,” I mumble.
“I asked Lyncoln if we could come tonight because we wanted to tell you this,” Maverick nods in agreement. “And Attie and Knox already know because we’ve all discussed it. Elizabeth and I want it to be you guys. You guys deserve it, and our country deserves the both of you. Going into this first vote, Elizabeth and I wanted you guys to know that you have our support. And hopefully our votes, well, except for Beth’s dad, who can’t bring himself to vote against her.” He laughs at that last part. “We’ve been campaigning for you as much as we could. Denver is split three ways with the Culling couples, but we’ve been shoving our votes your direction as much as we possibly could.”
“Though you might not have our votes, you have our support too,” Knox explains. “Like you guys would be happy for us if we won, we would be for you too. And we really think you guys have a better shot than we do. I think Elizabeth and Maverick just wanted you to know this stuff so this first vote wasn’t as stressful for you guys.” As an afterthought, he adds, “Dougall apparently also wanted to ensure you make it past this first vote.”
Is this really happening? I look to Lyncoln. He is looking back at me with the same stumped look. Our friends and one of our professors took matters into their own hands. Hadenfelt has been interfering with the Culling since the beginning. They interfered on our behalf to help level the playing field.
“Am I the only one who feels dirty here? Are we basically rigging a vote?” I ask incredulously.
Lyncoln nods. “I’m with you, Regs. Reagan and I don’t care who wins, as long as it isn’t Marisol and Henry. We’d be okay with either of you guys winning.” His gaze settles on me and I can see the pride and affection he has for me in it. He is the type of man who works for what he earns. It’s just part of who he is. This feels like cheating. Too close to being cheating. He’s more receptive than I am to this idea, but he still didn’t see it coming. He doesn’t like it, but he’ll take it.
Maverick shakes his head. “Guys, don’t think of it like we are rigging it or somehow cheating. Think of it as our country’s best shot at purging itself from bad politicians like the Hadenfelts and settling this business with the drifters. Beth and I will be here in any way you need, serve in whatever capacity you need, but you have to win. You are the only ones who can win against Marisol and Henry. We don’t stand a chance against them and we know it. I don’t think Attie and Knox mind me saying that they probably don’t either. It’s either going to be you guys or Marisol and Henry. We had to step in, step up, and help. For our country’s sake. She’s already cheated to get to where she is and used blackmail to get Henry. We aren’t even cheating. We are willingly just giving you the best shot that we can.”
Maverick pauses and says one more thing, “It shouldn’t even be Marisol and Henry. It should be Marisol and Christopher. But it isn’t. When Marisol blackmailed Henry, she rigged the Culling. We aren’t rigging it, we are just unkinking it. We are trying to help make it a fair fight. We’ve all busted our tails for this thing and Marisol and Henry winning would be an insult to all of the Culling candidates’ efforts. Oliver’s included.”
Tears sting my eyes. When he puts it that way, it makes much more sense, but I still don’t feel right about this. Lyncoln must agree because he lets out a breath and moves his ankle from resting on one leg to the other. He’s fidgeting though quiet.
“How long have you guys been doing this?” I ask stunned.
“Since before we left for the tour. Every chance we got, we were talking you up. Maverick and my families know we want all votes to go to the two of you and have been working behind the scenes to get you more support.” Elizabeth shrugs then adds, “It’s a done deal. We didn’t ask or say anything before because we knew you wouldn’t like it.”
“Of course I don’t like it! I’m still taking your votes!” I say discouraged. “Even if we win, we won’t win fair and square.”
“No,” Attie interrupts, “You are taking our country back and it’s long overdue. The Hadenfelts haven’t been playing fair for quite some time now. It’s time we fight fire with fire.”
And that was the end of that discussion. I really hope Hadenfelt wasn’t listening in on that one, because if he was, he just got really super-mega ticked off.
Chapter 14
We’ve been at this for hours. I put my head in my hands and rub my temples. “Samson, I don’t know what to tell you,” I shake my head as I look up at him, “You don’t want to stay here. You can’t go back, or they’ll kill you.”
“I know. And I don’t even want to stay if Marisol wins, that’s the same thing as handing the reins over to her father.” He is now pacing the room. I’ve tried my best convincing him that getting him acquitted of his crime and starting his punishment this week is the best option.
“You do realize that it’s your life in the balance here, right?” I stand and begin pacing with him, but on the opposite side of the table.
“Yes,” he says loudly and glares at me.
Sarge fidgets and I look to him, telling him with a nod that I’m fine. Both of my guards don’t like anyone taking anything but a kind tone of voice with me.
“Well then?” I demand, matching Samson in anger.
When
we first started this session, he apologized for losing his temper yesterday. Here we are both about to lose our tempers again.
“Well then what?” he asks frustrated, almost yelling.
“Well then what do you want?!”
“I want…” he starts strong without hesitating and then falters a little.
“Tell me, Sam,” I say more softly this time, using my nickname for him.
“I want the truth. If the State didn’t leave those young drifter boys hanging on the side of the road, who did? Who murdered that group of teenage boys? If it wasn’t you, who was it? The only thing that seems to match up with what I know and what I’ve learned here, is the food from when we were starving, and even then, your President told me he gave plenty to the men who came for help. And more than that…”
I’m not sure where he is going with this, but it’s further than we have gotten for the last two hours. “Go on. Don’t sugar coat it, just let me have it,” I urge him, keeping my voice softer. Now that we are finally getting somewhere, I don’t want him to shut down.
“I want to know if there are more of us like me, or rather how many more like me since I’m sure there are,” he says finally, looking to me to gauge my reaction.
“Like you?” I ask confused.
“Yeah… not loyal to the State, not loyal to the drifters. Loyal to what is right rather than who is in charge,” he says with a shrug.
His use of the word “drifters” tells me he no longer considers himself one. They prefer to call themselves the “patriots” and believe themselves to be the true State of the Union. Like we are imposters, and this is really their country.
“You think there are more?”
“I know for a fact there are some, but I think there could be a lot more,” he says honestly, rubbing his palms together.
Of course, this could just be a ruse to get us to let him go, but considering he was trying to buy more time and told me to win the Culling in the last discussion we had, I believe him. My head tells me to be careful and not to trust him, but despite that, my gut instincts do believe every word he has said thus far.
“What do you mean?” I ask, wanting him to continue.
He shrugs. “Many of our leaders are like your Hadenfelt. Power hungry and savage about it. Yet, like with Hadenfelt, there is no easy way to remove them from their positions of power, so we don’t. Some out of necessity and some because we are just plain scared of them.”
“So you’re saying there are people who want them gone, or would at least be in favor of a change in leadership?” I ask.
He nods, his long dark hair flopping with the intensity of the nod. “Exactly. But they also don’t want to flee to the State for refuge. That would be the only thing worse for them than staying.”
“Okay,” I say, taking this all in. “So what do you want to accomplish? You go and find some of these people and then what?”
He smiles, and I see a light in his eyes that has been missing for a while. He really thinks whatever it is might work. “We make sure you get the proper information so that your military can find our Hadenfelts. You get your bad guys and we get a change in leadership. And of course, with that change of leadership, drifters as you know them will disappear and stop attacking.”
“And you think that will fix everything? How many people do you need to find or recruit to help? Numbers-wise, what are we talking about here?”
“More than five. No more than fifteen for a team of us to really get to work without raising any suspicions,” he stops and thinks. “I don’t think it will fix everything, but I think it will help us find some answers and figure out what has really been happening.” He stops again and then adds, “Reagan, I can’t just abandon all those people and start a new life. We are talking about innocent children here… and a lot of them.”
I wince and shake my head disgusted. He has told me that drifter women are supposed to have at least five children. As many as possible, as quickly as possible. Raise up an army, so to speak. I shudder as I think of the time Samson told me that if the women don’t get pregnant after a year of marriage, they remarry her and have her try with someone else, though the woman does get her pick of who with. And that’s if they marry at all. Traditional, committed marriages are few and far between. I shake my head. Why would anyone choose that life?
Maybe just maybe they think they don’t have a choice.
“But how would you do all this? You said that if you went back now, they would assume you talked and kill you anyway,” I say, coming back to the heart of the problem. Samson doesn’t belong here, or there, or anywhere. “And don’t forget Williams is there too.”
“I would have to sell them a pretty good story about how I ‘escaped’.” He uses his fingers to make quotes when he uses the word “escaped”. “Maybe I could take them something to prove my loyalty. Or someone. Like Hadenfelt maybe?” he asks excitedly.
Oh. That would be the answer to all our problems. No Hadenfelt and getting rid of some of the prominent drifter leaders? If only. Kill two birds with one stone. That would be the perfect plan except...
“Except you’re forgetting that Hadenfelt may already be in bed with the drifters,” I say, and his face goes from excited to not quite defeated, but definitely deflated.
I, however, had another thought when he said the word “someone”. I look to Sarge in the corner of the room and gesture with my head toward the door, telling him that I’m about done here.
“What about your sister? Wouldn’t you be worried that they would kill you and her both?” I offer.
He smiles. “You don’t know my sister. She’s my twin and a lot like you in that she can hold her own. And she’s the first person I would confide in and get on my team.”
“Can you give me names, Sam? Descriptions of the people we would be after? A list of bad guys?” I ask.
He nods. “I’m pretty good at drawing, get me a sketch pad.”
“Done,” I say with a nod to Sarge.
As I move to leave, Samson grabs my wrist lightly to stop me. Then his eyes go wide, realizing what he just did, and he takes a big step back and looks at Sarge. “Sorry, my bad! Sorry, sorry.”
He’s lucky it was Sarge’s day. Jamie would have had a gun on his head by now for even touching me.
“Was there something else?” I ask amused at his obvious fear of my guards. If only he knew they were just big teddy bears.
“What do you think about my idea?”
It occurs to me that somewhere in the mess of this Culling and saving his life, we have developed a strange kind of bond. Neither of us wants to disappoint the other. I’m not sure if it’s Stockholm syndrome or a weird sort of friendship.
I have to be honest with him. He deserves that much. “Honestly, Sam, I think it’s a long shot. But, it’s something. I’m going to go find Taggert and see what we can come up with. We have to find you something solid to deliver if we are even going to remotely consider doing this.”
I don’t let on all of what I’m thinking about his plan because I need to talk to Taggert and Lyncoln first. And I don’t want to get his hopes up.
****
I have Sarge radio to Taggert and Lyncoln that I would like to see them. They were apparently both in a meeting with Taggert’s two other go-to men and have us come directly there. Hmm. That meeting sure must have been important.
More secret meetings?
Lyncoln rode over with me but told me he was going to work on something with Rodgers. He acted like it was no big deal. Did he lie to me? Maybe he just didn’t know at the time and got pulled into something. That must be it. Right?
“Well, if it isn’t the lovely Ms. Scott,” Taggert smiles as I come in.
Taggert’s office has been cleared from Hadenfelt’s listening. So has the interrogation room and our meeting room at Mile High in the Presidential Quarters. Slowly, Jaden and his team of three others have been cutting back on what Hadenfelt can have his dirty little ears and eyes on. They got
the entire Presidential Suite, the interrogation room, and Taggert’s office done while we were on our tour. Now they are working on our rooms at Mile High.
Rather than just cutting off Hadenfelt at once and risking his being mad and doing something rash with our loved ones, they have been going about it slowly and looping in old sound tapes to make it seem like he still has full coverage. Technically, his being able to listen in was never part of the deal with Henry anyway, but we take every precaution regardless.
Seeing Taggert’s big grin, I remember when I first met him I thought he looked like Santa Claus, except in military gear. He has the look from the gray hair to the belly, but not the personality. He would be one purposeful and scary Santa. All three of his go-to men look equally as dangerous. I wouldn’t want to be on the bad side of any of the men in this room. I still can hardly believe I’m brave enough to date one of them.
“Admiral Taggert,” I smile stiffly. I eyeball Lyncoln, but he’s looking at me with such an intense and powerful look, I forget I’m angry, or at least suspicious, with him. The way he looks at me just says “mine”.
“What can I do for my best interrogator today? Any headway with Samson?” he asks.
I consider that. “Sort of. I’m not totally sure. He has an idea. It sounds a bit out there, but an idea nonetheless,” I start.
He gestures for me to sit down. Not wanting to do that and feeling warm in this stuffy room, I take off my heavy, black jacket so I am wearing my black tank top that was underneath and pace as I explain the conversation Samson and I just had. Taggert’s expression goes from surprised to a bit shocked as I finish up. None of them say anything.
Is the idea that bad?
So I just keep going because they aren’t saying anything. “Now. Initially, I thought his plan was all just wishful thinking. Maybe even a ruse. But, I really do believe the guy. He’s confused right now. He’s finding out half of the stuff they hate us for, we didn’t even do. Regardless, his plan seems a bit farfetched. Or did. Until he said he would bring them ‘someone’. Then I thought of an idea.”
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 19