Second Term by J.M. Adams

Author:J.M. Adams [Adams, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

January 6, 2029

The National Mall, Washington, D.C.

MY STOMACH GRUMBLES again, but it was worth it. I’d just surrendered the other half of my breakfast bagel in front of the National Gallery of Art. I’d approached a homeless guy scrunched up against a trash can. I talked to him briefly and with a great deal of effort, he stood up. He was hunched over like a T-Rex, his upper frame far too heavy to keep him upright. His odd build and disheveled wiry red hair reminded me of Ronald McDonald. Except this Ronald was coming off of a weeklong bender and looked pretty hungry. I told him he could have the other half of my coveted breakfast if he let me read his bright red shirt.

“Of course,” he said with a wink.

With great pomp and circumstance, he grabbed his shirt, pulling it down tight for me to read. It read: I’M NOT LAZY in bold black letters. And underneath it read, I JUST REALLY ENJOY DOING NOTHING. I laughed out loud and handed over my half of the sandwich.

Cecilia Danforth had an annoying habit of always leaving me with more questions than answers.

Sanctioned at the highest levels? What the hell does that mean? My life pivoted on those five words. What form of democracy would I be forced to fight for during the golden age of disinformation if the hordes managed to sidetrack the Election Certification and take up residence in the Capitol?

Approaching Capitol Square, I catch a glimpse of the weeping woman statue and it stops me in my tracks. I’ve seen the statue several times, but this morning, the woman of stone speaks to me.

The statue depicts two women dressed in flowing Roman robes perched near the top of the statue with the dome of the Capitol Building dominating the canvas behind them. One woman is studying a tablet while the other one weeps into her shoulder. Their frozen beauty commands my full attention. I snap two photos with my phone before Googling the statue for more information.

A moment later, I had my answer. The statue is called the Peace Monument. “They died that their country might live,” was the hidden inscription on the tablet. I stare again at the women and wonder if they will mourn my passing.

The silence surrounding the grounds of the Capitol Building sets the stage like a Western town before the glorious gunfight at high noon. A piece of paper—or is it a tumbleweed—scampers past my feet as I wait for hidden enemies to yell, “Draw!”

The only problem is that there is no such thing as a glorious gunfight. Death is not grand. It’s pitiless and final. I’ve been trapped inside my head watching the grains of sand fill up the bottom half of the hourglass. Time’s up.

I step into the employee entrance to the Capitol, taken aback by the vacuum surrounding me. The giant dome is holding its breath, commanding absolute silence from all of those who dare to enter.

I make my way past the metal detector seeking out the watch commander, Reggie Devereux.

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