Some of the Board start to make notes and some have their brows furrowed in thought about our idea.
Lyncoln, as practiced, takes the next portion. “Now the most obvious question is how to do this. Of course, having a video conference with that many people who may or may not need to speak would be difficult, and at the same time traveling between townships is also difficult. After much thought, we have determined the best way to do this and really make it work, is to meet in person at a designated township. Following the precautions that allowed 100 of us from across the townships to gather for the Culling, each committee member will be tested for any abnormality before traveling, from running a simple fever to the common cold. If they are not healthy, they won’t go. Simple as that. And video conferencing and regular conference calls can be used for any further collaboration outside of the two to three days a month the committee is together.”
I take back over. “Our country has taken so many leaps and bounds post-Trident. Yet, at the same time, we have moved backward. We still have technology. We still have brilliant people. It is wasteful to not combine the two and see what this country can really do. We owe it not only to ourselves and our country but also for all those people who lost their lives. It isn’t okay to just go on living in this post-Trident era… we must thrive.” I end my speech on that note, feeling good about how it went.
Now here comes the hard part. The questions.
Yay.
Evil tester man, Mr. Alexander, of course goes first and never even cracks a smile. “Having that much travel between townships that often is a big risk. And as you stated, the Culling is also a huge risk, but one we only make once every thirty or so years. How can you defend something with such a high-risk factor for the health of all our citizens? And doing it so often.”
Okay. Coming out guns blazing then.
I smile right at him, looking him in the eyes even though on the inside I want to run and hide. Goodness, this man is intimidating. “It is a risk. I totally agree with you. But it is also a risk to have a medical hospital in Omaha that is not properly equipped for something as precious and valuable to us as our own babies. How can you tell me that it is okay for babies to die in Omaha because they don’t have the technology that another township does? How can you tell me that not utilizing a means of water purification that could double our supply isn’t a big risk? There are risks in doing this committee, but there are bigger risks and ramifications in not.”
After a dramatic pause I add, “And not only that, but we know more about viruses and infectious diseases than we ever have before. We will be careful. We will tread lightly, but too much has been slipping through the cracks for too long. Are our townships really “self-sufficient” and “equal” like we say they are? I don’t think so, and I think that’s both an alarming and horrifying thought considering that was the purpose of creating them in the first place.”
Mr. Alexander seems surprised or impressed with my answer and takes a few more notes, never smiling or giving us any indication he likes us or our idea.
“You mentioned the hospitals needing collaboration and the water purification idea as well, are there any more examples you can give us? We will need to know that there will be enough for this committee to do if meeting so often,” Elle asks next.
Lyncoln squeezes my hand and decides to take this question, which I am surprised with. “There are more examples than I have time to tell you about, and I am sure the people sitting at home watching can think of even more. We need military advancement in each of the townships. We need more wind turbines to create a cleaner and better means of electricity. We need a better means of oil drilling that isn’t so time and labor intensive. We need better transportation, especially with our resources traveling between townships. We need better maintenance of the townships. Basically, it boils down to that if any one township is completely dependent upon another, it isn’t good enough.
“Each township is supposed to have a focal resource, yes, but each township is supposed to be self-sustaining so that if there were another pandemic or even an attack of sorts, none would be in jeopardy. The reality is each of the townships are so dependent upon one another right now that if anything were to happen, all of us would go down. That is the biggest risk imaginable in the wake of Trident. We can do better. We need to do better.”
I try to not let my face show how pleased and surprised I am with his answer. He nailed that one. Thank goodness.
I smile confidently and take a deep breath. Maybe we will do alright with this after all. I know Attie will have rocked their idea on medical improvements. I know that Marisol and Henry were doing theirs on revamping the education system, something they both are apparently passionate about. My idea seems to be the most radical. Will it pay off or will it come back to bite us in the butt? Right before the vote that could possibly bring my parents to Denver, too.
There is more writing down and pausing by the Board. Lyncoln has an arm around the back of my chair and his other across his lap, holding my hand.
Mr. Winters looks up next, “A concern may be the resources and time that it will take for the transportation of the committee members to and from so often. How do you propose we do that?”
I smile at him kindly. “Really it will depend on where the meeting place will be. It would make the most sense for a centralized location, so Denver or Omaha. Flying will probably be best. And yes, you are right. It will take a lot of time, and not to mention fuel, to do this for these meetings. We are confident though that once this committee starts working together and incorporating their findings, everything else will pale in comparison. Think of this… Engineers from Detroit working with biomedics from Vegas. Water engineers from Seattle working with nutritional specialists. Software designers and mechanics working with the military defense department or communications. Those combinations are what will make it worth it. It’s been far too long that our specialties are contained within our townships. Can’t you see the endless possibilities of what we can do? One person will be able to work with a team of people and make a difference across the entire country.”
Mr. Winters almost smiles but nods and continues writing.
This time it’s Mr. Zax with the question, “How are we going to select the members of this committee? Will they serve two years? Four? What will the qualifications be?”
I answer this one too because I know that Lyncoln has no idea what I am thinking on this. “The committee members will need to be elected from within their home township. They will be given a position of responsibility, and with responsibility often comes a bit of power. Power cannot be given to just anyone. The people that will serve on this committee need to be people of the highest integrity. For that reason, we can’t just blindly select people or make them take a test. To find truly good people with good intentions, you have to ask the people they are surrounded by.”
“And the term?” Zax asks with a smile to remind me and bring me down off my soap box.
“To begin with, two years. We want to rotate in fresh people with fresh ideas.”
“And who will head this committee? Who will make the decisions of what project takes precedence over another?” Bennett asks.
“The head of the committee will, of course, be one, if not both, of the Presidential Couple,” I stop and then shrug smiling, “So hopefully me.”
I get a few smiles and then continue, “But, the project importance will need a majority vote. It would be too easy to give that power to the President or Madam President. The reality is, the people out there in the thick of things might just know better than a person who is too busy trying to run a country and do it all. So there will need to be a vote.”
I get a few nods. Their mostly concerned looks from the beginning are starting to turn into nods. That is good news, right?
“The time is almost up, are there any more questions for this couple?” Dougall asks smiling and looking to the other members of the Board.
No one says
anything and I’m not sure if it is because we are out of time or because they don’t have any more questions.
“Okay then,” she smiles. “Thank you, Ms. Scott and Mr. Reed. This was a very different, but possibly very beneficial plan. And, as ever, we await any news on your upcoming nuptials. Good luck with this first vote.”
And just like that, we are done. I take a deep breath. So that wasn’t so bad.
As we head to the room with food and refreshments to join our friends, well friends plus Marisol, Lyncoln stops me a moment.
“Thank you,” he says appreciatively, rubbing his hands up and down on my back.
“For what?”
He gives my hand in his a squeeze. “I think you may have just won us the presidency back there. It’s a solid idea, Regs.”
I look at him to see a hint of teasing, but there isn’t any.
“Are you sure? I mean, I like our proposal and think it needs doing, but I’m not sure the people will agree.” I can’t help but feel a little unsure about the radical side of my idea. Not everyone likes to jump on board when there is a major change about to happen. In fact, most of the time people don’t really like change at all. This traveling between townships business is going to freak some people out.
“You just made every person sitting at home wonder what they could do for the country, an idea they could create, or something they could improve, that could benefit the entire nation. You just single-handedly motivated an entire country to do better. Your idea took the other two couple’s ideas and fused them together. You went bigger,” he says proudly.
“I truly believe it needs to be done. Even if we don’t win. I hope enough people liked it that they’ll want it incorporated no matter who the Presidential Couple is,” I say wholeheartedly.
This project I have thrown myself into the last few days makes me feel like I could make a difference. Even more, it makes me feel like I belong. I don’t belong in the military. I don’t belong in the fields of Omaha anymore either. But, listening to people and helping them improve and incorporate an idea that will help thousands? I think that sounds like the best job in the world. I hear my grandpa’s words in my head as he told me numerous times when I was little, “Be different and make a difference.” This would be his words personified.
Lyncoln sighs so softly I barely catch it. “And thank you for doing that solo.”
“I take it you still aren’t going to tell me the reason why you were missing in action all week?” I sound a little testy, but I don’t even care one little bit. The interview is over, I don’t have to play nice anymore.
He looks at me torn but says nothing. His blue-brown eyes tell me he loves me. They tell me he trusts me. But there is that protective thing there. He doesn’t want to tell me. He can’t tell me, at least not right now anyway.
“Great,” I say frustrated. Then I remember how we were both irked with the cabinet and their lack of action on the Hadenfelt front and add, “It isn’t Hadenfelt related is it?”
He shakes his head. “I won’t go rogue and go after him if that’s what you’re wondering. They had another cabinet meeting today though. I think they are going to make the decision to arrest him by the end of the weekend.”
That is the best news I have heard… ever.
****
Saturday Lyncoln is still not around much. I get bored and willingly meet with Dougall for a few hours in talking over what will happen with this next vote and if we make it to the final two, all of the appearances we will make.
The one perk is when she tells me if we make it to the final two, there will be a Christmas Eve ball in which our families will be in attendance for. Christmas with Mom, Dad, and Ash? I haven’t missed one yet, so I am overjoyed at the mere thought.
I think of what we typically do in Omaha for Christmas. We freeze our butts off in finding and cutting down a small Christmas tree. Then we spend hours by the fire drinking hot cocoa and singing old Christmas songs while decorating the tree. For some reason, stupid twinkly lights on a tree are more wonderful than anything else in the world. Add some fresh, white fluffy snow and that right there is perfection. Christmas time is just… magic. Mom usually cooks an apple pie or two and we have ourselves a little feast Christmas morning. We even do presents. Nothing big, just little things like a book, or artwork, or something homemade we think one another would like.
I wonder if we will be allowed to do a little shopping for our families here in Denver. Normally in Omaha we exchange goods from the greenhouses for small gifts. I don’t really have anything to trade for here, but surely they’ll allow it. The thought of my parents coming here and getting to go to a real ball with me makes me absolutely giddy. My mom in a ball gown? Ashton in a tux. That thought makes me giggle.
And then just like that, reality slaps her big, cold hand in my face. That will only happen if we win this next vote. If we don’t, I could very well be at home in Omaha doing the same ol’, same ol’ while Marisol and her daddy dearest dance away at the ball. But then again maybe he’ll be arrested by then? We can only hope. That would be the best Christmas present ever!
Freaking Hadenfelt.
In less than a week, I can finally find out if I’ll bring my family to Denver… for forever. I have never wanted to fast forward a week so bad in my life.
****
Sunday I spend the day again with Attie, and we have another girls’ movie night and invite Marisol. She is still a bit hoity-toity, but she puts up less of a fight this time. She even talks to us about the Christmas Eve ball and what she will wear and other such girly things. It’s nice to sometimes be reminded that she can be normal and she does have a heart, however small it may be.
Monday morning arrives, and I tally up all the time I have spent with Lyncoln over the weekend to find that it has only been three hours.
THREE HOURS.
Are you kidding me? How long can I be patient? How long can I wait it out? He told me two weeks ago to give him two weeks. Today is two weeks exactly. Well, I sure am looking forward to getting some answers now. I still have no idea what’s going on.
When Lyncoln is with me, he acts like the usual Lyncoln. We sure haven’t lost our physical attraction to one another. But, just like on that day I talked to him after he lost his cool with Taggert before Red Hawk, I know that he’s keeping something from me. And in doing so, he’s keeping me at an arm’s distance. Kind of. I mean, when we aren’t in a smooch fest, that is. Even those are few and far between when I hardly get to see him.
I’m trying to be understanding. I know I don’t have to know every detail of his work, but come on. Enough is enough. I had clearance for Red Hawk, didn’t I? And what’s going on that could be more serious than that?
One way or another, he will tell me by the end of tonight. I have tried to be understanding. I’ve tried to not be a crazy girlfriend. I have tried to give him space. He knows it’s bothering me. He knows I know he is up to something. Yet he still won’t tell me. Here I am barely worried about this week and the voting results because I am more worried about what he is up to.
He isn’t going on some drifter mission without telling me, is he?
No. I don’t think he would do that. He would tell me. Even if he knew I would disagree and not want him to go, he would tell me anyway. So what is it? What is going on that he is so preoccupied with that he feels like he is protecting me in not telling me?
I just can’t seem to put my finger on it.
Chapter 23
Our Monday interview goes well. Lyncoln says we will be planning our wedding for the first part of the New Year with or without winning the Culling. This seems to bring on a whole other slew of questions, which I answer to the best of my abilities. Funny that I’m sitting here talking about planning a wedding when I really want to pummel the man sitting next to me. Don’t get me wrong, I love him. I love the crap out of him. But, it’s past time I know what’s going on here. I think I deserve that much.
Regardless of m
y feelings under the surface, the interview goes as usual. Lyncoln is charming and attentive as ever. For some reason, whether it’s in the interview or while we are snoodling, it seems there isn’t anything wrong and I start to think I am imagining things. But, in these moments, like now on the elevator when I catch him watching me worriedly, or when he sees me after not seeing me for a while, I know something is up. He looks guilty for making me feel like crap.
He apparently senses I’m about to lose it so he hardly says anything to me in the elevator on the way back to my room.
Sarge gives me the “Hey, are you okay?” look as he also picks up on our sour mood.
I smile at Sarge and reach over to squeeze his arm. He knows I’ve had an off week.
We enter my room and I feel the immediate pull of wanting to take off this dress and crawl into pajamas. But no pajamas for now anyway, it’s time to go to battle. With Lyncoln.
“Regs.” He watches me carefully, his long legs crossed at his ankles, hands in his front pockets, suit coat unbuttoned.
I resist the urge to rip his pretty tie right off his neck. “What?” I snap.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, saying softly, “I know. I know I’m driving you crazy.”
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 32