Into the Night

by Herb Scribner

  I raise the papers by my side and hold them in the air.

  "This is a printed report of everything I just said. It includes the line 'Senator Simmons confirmed all of this information in an exclusive interview with me.' And now that you have just done that, on the record, the story will stand."

  "What are you going to do with it?" Simmons asks.

  "I am going to share it with the world," I say. "We're going to send it out to all major reporters that we know. Those at the Scribe, the Times, the Posts, NDN, wherever and wherever. They're going to get this story and they're going to break it. Our report itself won't be the story that breaks that news, but it'll send every reporter to Washington in hopes of confirming all of the news bits inside."

  "I can't let you publish that."

  Her words freeze me where I stand. I think for a second that it can't be real. She can't truly be denying me the opportunity to share the story with everyone. That's just not right and not fair. She just confirmed that she's been a puppet for the president. She's been a pawn, a phony, a fake. She's been manipulated like she's wearing strings and she's been told to dance. How could she deny me the opportunity to report on any of this?

  The good news is that she doesn't know that she can't stop me. I can report this as loudly and as proudly as I want. I can share it with as many journalists as I want.

  "You can't stop me," I tell her. "Even if you take away this copy, I've got other copies in my hotel and on my computer."

  The senator smiles. "I was afraid you'd say that."

  She pulls out her phone, unlocks it, and then quickly types away. I'm not sure what to do so I stand still and watch it all unfold. When she's done typing, she stares at me amid the silence of the night. We're stuck here on this cold evening, watching each other, trying to figure out what the other is doing, what cards the other holds. We're both still wearing those sharp glances at each other.

  "I'm sorry I had to do this to you."

  "What did you do?"

  "The president told me that if there was ever any trouble with finishing this story and completing this story that I could contact a security group who would take care of it for us. I would advise you not to go back to your room for awhile."

  Ben takes a step toward the senator. "What are you saying?"

  "I just sent a team over to Annette's room. They will destroy everything inside of it. All computers, all file copies, everything you've ever owned in the digital space -- gone."

  "You can't do that," Annette says.

  "I have to."

  "Why?"

  "You don't understand," the senator says. "You don't understand what it feels like to have the president of the Untied States ask you for a favor. And then, on top of that, you have no idea what it is like when the president threatens your life. Keep this story, or you will die. If anything leaks, and she get sent away, she'll send another group after me. And another group. And another group. There's so much that she can do to me, and there's so much she will do to me if this leaks out. So I can't let you dot his."

  "If the public knows there's nothing she can do."

  "You're right, but she's the president of the United States. She's organized teams to take down anyone who disobeys her. And I am one of those people. If I do this, all my data will be gone. I will be killed. My family could be killed."

  "This is nuts," I say. "You can't be honestly feeling this way."

  "I told you when we spoke for the first time that this is Washington. People stab you right int he front and they do it with a smile. This is a cutthroat world. This isn't some meaningless town in the middle of nowhere New England. This is where the shakes play. And if you're not fine with getting bitten, then you have no business being here."

  I shake my head. It's straight up madness that she wouldn't want to report this story out to the world and have the public know about it. The public should know about all of this. The public should learnt hat the president of the United States has hired a tech company to send all personal data for her to use in an election. We should tell the public that a senator -- a legit senator -- is being blackmailed by the president and threatened. This should all be on the public record.

  But the senator doesn't want it. She's too scared to know what could happen if she tells this story. The power hanging over her is far too great, too strong, too powerful. She will never, never give up the details of the story because she doesn't want to die. And she surely doesn't want someone to kill her or her family.

  I shake my head because I know what that would feel like. Hell, I know what it feels like. Serial killers who have chased me threatened my friends if I didn't comply with their wishes. And it's a horrible feeling, knowing that you're responsible for the lives of your friends and families. That weight on your shoulder just shoves you closer to the ground, chipping away at your body, breaking you down until eventually you have to put up a fight to survive.

  But the senator isn't at that point yet. She has no intention of fighting back. She just wants to keep things the way that they are.

  "I'm going to need that copy," she says, nodding over to me.

  I look down at the papers in my hand. This is the copy I had Minny print before we left the hotel. And now, if a team is really out at my hotel destroying my computer and my files, then this is the only last living copy of the reported story that we have. I can't let her destroy it. I can't let it happen.

  "I'm sorry," I say, "but the public deserves to know about this. The public deserves to read about what is happening here."

  She shakes her head. "You really are so naive about this place. You thought you were something special because you survived a few murders and had a book published. But you're nothing, girl. We in Washington survive getting our throats slit every day. And so when someone with power tells you to do something, you listen."

  Her right hand shuffles in her right side pocket of her peacoat. It's been there this entire time, I now notice. But she moves it around. And then she pulls something out from it. I can't see it at first, but then my eyes adjust and I notice that is indeed a weapon. A pistol. She puts her finger on the trigger and then points it toward me. Slowly she moves the target away from me and toward Ben.

  "I will kill him if you do not hand that over to me right now."

  "Senator."

  "I SAID NOW!" Her voice echoes through the night. "You think this is some sort of game, Annette? This is not a game. This is everything our country has worked toward. You want to undo the president of the United States? You want to undo the first female president of the United States? Think about what your stupid story there -- which I will deny in any and all interviews afterward, and I will tell my aides to dot he same. Think about what it'll do to this country. The government will never be trusted again. No one will believe in the president again. Everything will end right in plain site."

  I want to charge toward her and take that gun away. It gives her an exceptional advantage over me, one that I can't fight back against. She stares at me, her finger tickling the trigger, the end of the gun pointed right at Ben.

  "I will kill him," she says. "I will kill him, and then I will kill you. Unless you hand that paper over to me right now."

  My hand shakes with nerves. The paper flaps in the wind.

  "Don't do it," Ben says. "Don't do it. Run, Annette. Run and get out of here."

  I turn back to see what my direct path would be. I would run across the lawn of the capitol until I reached the national monument. Then, from there, I would run toward the Lincoln Memorial. And then what? I couldn't go back to my hotel room. I couldn't escape the city. There's no way they would let me on a flight. I would have to hide within the forests, the trees, the darkness, hiding off the grid for years to come.

  My entire life would become a mess. And then when he authorities finally found me, I would be killed. Maybe not by them, but by someone, off the books. It would cause even more problems for me and everything I worked toward. I wouldn't have a life to live. An
d the government itself would fall still continue to reign.

  Staying alive may be my best chance.

  "Fine," I say at last. The senator's finger relaxes a little bit off of the trigger. Ben's features relax away from fright to calmness. I think he was still willing to die right then and there for the cause and what this story represented. But there's too much on the line for allow that. Our entire lives were at stake.

  I hand the paper over to her, letting it rest like a flag blowing in the wind. With her right hand still on the pistol, she reaches for the paper with her left hand. She collects and it shrivels it up into a ball. She shoves the ball in her pocket.

  She slides her pistol back into the pocket of her coat. She slowly steps away from us. She moves with a gentle step. She doesn't want to disrupt the calmness of things.

  "I think both of you should leave this city sooner rather than later," she says. "If word ever gets around about what happened here, things will only get worse. I think you should leave before it gets worse."

  "So I'm fired?" Ben asks.

  The senator smirks. "I was never going to win the election anyways," she says. "That was the point."

  She walks backward and then turns around so she faces the capitol building. She dips inside the glowing monument of our country and disappears from view.

  It's just me and Ben now standing outside on this frigid cold morning. He walks over to me and pulls me close against his shoulder. I enjoy the warm that his body brings me. But my eyes continue to stare at the door of the capitol. What did she mean by that? Why did she say she wouldn't win the presidency? Was that an entire ruse from the beginning to? Was she told to run so that she would win nomination but then lose during the election? Had this conspiracy gone deeper than I thought it did?

  Those are thoughts I will have to ponder later. But for now, there's only so much I can do. I pull my phone out from my pocket. I open up an app -- SIGNAL -- and type it in the very message I was worried I would have to send.

  I write, "Execute Plan B."

  Ben notices me typing and asks, "Who was that?"

  I smile. "A friend."

  He doesn't ask anything else. Instead, he pats me on the back and directs me toward the stairs. We move away from the capitol building and begin walking down them. We'll walk home tonight to his place. He doesn't trust anything else.

  And in the morning, we'll go back to my hotel room, clean up the mess, and then hopefully get out of here without anyone trying to kill us.

  I finally take a deep breath. I didn't get the result I wanted. But at least for now, all of this is over.

  Chapter 33:The Airport

  The senator wasn't lying. They absolutely destroyed my room.

  The morning after our confrontation with the senator, Ben and I walked back to the hotel to start our day. We grabbed breakfast at the grab-and-go spot at the hotel. He ate a buttered croissant while I snacked on a thick blueberry muffin. We both enjoyed the well-brewed coffee that we get for free.

  We walked through the lobby. We rode the elevator up to my floor. It smelled like cigarette smoke as always. I guess we would never escape that.

  When we arrived at my room, the door was already unlocked. No one fully closed it, which was a sign to me that someone had already been inside and tore it shreds. We walked inside and found it to be a complete mess. Almost like a dog had gone buck wild inside. It was just missing the pee on the walls.

  My laptop was gone. I knew I shouldn't have left it there, but that had been my first backup plan. Leave the laptop incase I lose the physical copy. But the laptop, its charger, all of it was gone. Nowhere to be found. My clothes were tossed all around the room. A pair of underwear hung on the television. My shirts were thrown across the walls and the bed. Socks lingered around like flat snakes.

  And, for good measure, the idiots who ran through my room decided to open the mini bar and toss out anything they saw inside there, too. Of course they did. It was almost like they were deliberately destroying the room so I would have to pay extra fines when I checked out. But I guess that's what I get for keeping my life and not threatening the fate of our country.

  Ben helped me pack up. He helped me collect my socks, my underwear, and everything else in between that had been thrown on the floor. When we were done packing everything up, we went downstairs together. I dragged my suitcase through the hallways to the lobby. He led the way with a determined glance. We walked to the counter and Ben unfolded a lie about how someone had broken into our room and stolen our laptop. We don't know how they did it but they did. After a little convincing, the desk clerk agreed to waive our security fee.

  We went back to Ben's apartment after that. We made love as soon as we did. I'm not sure if it was just because we hadn't been together in so long or if it was the left over adrenaline from the previous night.

  When we were laying in bed afterward, Ben asked if I was going to stay with him from now on. I told him that I needed to leave the city, and that he should too. Just for a little while. To clear our heads.

  But he shook his head in defiance. He said he had an entire life to live in Washington and he wasn't ready to leave. He said a vacation would draw suspicion from the authorities, and that he was sort of obligated by law to stay in the state. I told him I would stay with him. He told me to go. He told me he'd see me again soon. But he wanted me to run away, and not tell anyone where I was going. He said that'd be the only way he could stay safe.

  I think he was being a little more paranoid than he needed to be. The senator would surely be good to her word as the president had been good to hers. I don't think they'd seek me out to try and kill me. Not after everything that happened.

  But I left Ben there and then. I packed up another suitcase full of clothes so I would have some more stuff to wear while I was on the road. I booked a flight for Minnesota, telling Paige I would see her there soon if she would pick me up. Of course she agreed. She said she missed me and that the two of us needed to catch up on all the drama went went through.

  And now here I am, at the airport, Dulles, of all places. I'm sitting at my gate, which is right around the corner from a small Dunkin Donuts counter. I have a large iced coffee with a turbo shot by my feet. I'm sitting with my headphones in. I'm listening to a random true crime podcast I found recently. I don't necessary like the story behind it. Seems like she's fishing for listens than telling an interesting story. Then again, streams and listens are what drive the industry and advertising. So there's nothing necessarily wrong with that.

  I look up and see one of the small TVs airing CNN flash with a breaking news banner. I pick up my coffee and take a sip.

  The headline flashes on screen: "BREAKING: NEW PODCAST UNVEILS CONSPIRACY BY PRESIDENT HICKS FOR 2020 ELECTION. CNN, NDN, SCRIBE CONFIRM REPORT."

  I smile. I can't hear the broadcast, but the anchor starts to talk and her words pop up in closed captions beneath her. And so I read.

  "CNN and other news organizations have confirmed that an audio report, leaked to us by an unnamed source, has alleged that President Hicks acted in a major conspiracy for the 2020 election. The highlights: the president organized the murder of Kayleigh Donnowho, who was killed outside the national mall last week. Then, the president purposefully framed Senator Joans Simmons as the murder. Simmons, who said she would run for president in 2020, was reportedly chosen to run for office so that the president could defeat her in an easy race. And, most shocking, the president organized a silent deal between the U.S. Government and the data analytics and cloud services company Up Sync, giving her unprecedented access to American data and information. All of this and more. Let's look into it."

  I wish I could listen to more of this. I wish I could see them talk about the audio report and how the voice was masked, and how no one put their name on it. I wish I could hear the talking heads theorize about who leaked the information. I wish I could hear them lose their minds about the president.

  But my zone is called by the woman at
the desk. I pick up my coffee, take a sip, and walk toward the group of people waiting to board. I keep staring at the screen as I slowly move through the line. I pick my phone out my pocket and see a text from Minny.

  "Did you see the news?"

  "I did. Thanks again!"

  "Thank you. See you again?"

  "Of course."

  I catch an image of a bundle of reporters surrounding Senator Simmons, asking her questions about what happened. She doesn't say anything. She keeps walking. The national monument stands tall and proud behind her.

  I smile as I'm approved for boarding. I walk through the tunnel doors, leaving Washington behind for good.

  THE END

  Coda: Decision

  Three mornings after I got back to Minnesota, and I am still sleeping on Paige's couch. It's not an uncomfortable couch by any means. I actually like the thick faux-leather against my back. And it's wide enough to allow me space for moving around at night. I really can't complain.

  I wake up from a deep sleep and roll over so I'm sitting up. The blanket I've been using it still laying against my legs. I wipe away crud from my eyes and allow my body time to wake up. I head over to the bathroom and relieve myself. When I'm done, I come back into the living room, curl up in the corner of the couch and flip on the TV.

  CNN is still talking about the story and all of the next steps that will be taken. They still haven't confirmed who left the recording for them. They don't know whose voice it is on the recording since I used a masked, filtering technology. They don't really know anything from that end. But their sources all confirmed the report. The Senate and the House are working on declaring articles of impeachment against the president if she chooses not to resign on her own. Senator Simmons has bowed out of the race and has already elected to resign.

  Paige's footsteps from across the room catch my attention. She struts into the kitchen wearing a long sleeve gray shirt and white shorts. She walks over to the coffee machine and pours herself a cup of java.