I wink at Cunningham. “You hear that, you piece of shit?”
Secretary Phillips steps forward and places a piece of paper facing us on the desk. “President Cunningham, I’ve just come from an emergency session of Congress.” She points to the paper. “This is a declaration, agreed to by an overwhelming majority of people not involved in your conspiracy, giving me authority to invoke the Twenty-Fifth Amendment, removing you from office with immediate effect. You will be taken into custody and tried for war crimes. You will answer for what you’ve done.”
He shakes his head. “No… you can’t do this to me! I’m your president! I order you to—”
I flick the butt of the gun forward, cracking him hard on his nose. “Shut the fuck up, Charlie.”
A man walks in the room wearing a suit and tie and looking very nervous.
Secretary Phillips gestures to him. “This is a judge, here to swear in the next president of these United States.”
“You’re not fit for this office, Elaine! You won’t be able to handle the backlash of what I’ve done!”
She holds her hand up. “I agree with you completely, Mr. President.”
He falls silent and frowns. I admit, I’m a little intrigued as to where this is going…
“I have no wish to be your successor, despite the chain of command dictating that I am. Under these exceptional, unique circumstances, I put it to Congress that they approve someone outside of that chain as the next acting president.”
Ryan Schultz steps forward.
My eyes go wide and I laugh with disbelief. “Ryan? Holy shit! Good for you, man.”
He nods but stays silent.
Phillips looks at me. “Adrian, I need you to stand down, put the gun away, and come with us. Your efforts in trying to stop this conspiracy have been noted, but you’re wanted for the murder of over twenty government agents.”
Oh, yeah… them.
It’s probably closer to forty — I think she was being generous.
I look at all the SWAT guys, aiming at me quietly and professionally. A couple of them have secured Atkins and Heskith, sitting them down on the sofas and keeping a gun on them.
Phillips is staring at me expectantly. Schultz looks a little more worried, but, then, he’s met me before, so that’s understandable.
Finally, I look at Cunningham. He’s distraught at the fact his grand plan has fallen at the final hurdle. Ironic, given the speech he gave me before. For all the atrocities this man has committed, it’s his most recent that I can’t move past. He launched a missile at US soil, destroying my bar — my life—and killing the woman I love in the process.
He doesn’t deserve to stand trial for war crimes. He doesn’t deserve the justice of the world born in the wake of his endeavors.
My finger tightens on the trigger.
He deserves my justice.
“Adrian, stand down,” urges Phillips. “This doesn’t have to be the end for you. But I need you to be smart here. I need you to do the right thing. Stand… Down… ”
I can’t look away from him. I’m relishing every second I spend looking into his eyes and seeing fear.
“I can’t. Not now. Charlie, you made this personal. Even after everything you’ve done… all I can think about is what I’ve lost. My girlfriend, my bar, my dog — everything. Does that make me selfish? Does that make me crazy?” I shake my head to myself. “No, that makes me human. That makes me who I am. This is the only way I can think of to stop myself from eating a goddamn bullet somewhere down the line. I blame you, Charlie. Everything that’s happened, to me, to everyone, is on you. And making you stand in front of a grand jury before letting you rot in a cell is not justice. It’s not what you deserve. All these SWAT guys can’t protect you now. I want you to know… I want you to understand, to believe, you’ve lost. It’s over. Finally. And I want you to use these last seconds to think about all the great things this world is gonna do to get back on its feet after you fucked it up.”
In the corner of my eye, I see Schultz reach out to me. “Adrian, don’t do this…”
I ignore him. “Can you see it, Charlie? Can you see how great we’ll become?”
“No!” he screams. “No! This is my world! My dream! You have no right to take this away from me! You can’t—”
I pull the trigger.
A crimson cloud bursts into the air as the body of the president — sorry, former president — drops to the floor with a loud thud.
I stare down at his corpse, watching the blood pool and stain the carpet. “Fuck you.”
The silence that follows lasts only a few seconds. The SWAT team swarms the desk, grabs me, and forces the gun from my hand. They press my head down against the surface of the Resolute desk and secure my hands behind me with plastic ties.
With a gloved hand on my face holding me still, I look up at Schultz. He’s staring at me in shock, his jaw hanging loose.
I look him in the eye. “I acted alone, Ryan. Do you hear me? I did this all on my own, and the fucker deserved it.”
33
I’m sitting on the floor of my eight-by-eight holding cell, resting against the back wall and staring blankly ahead of me through the bars. There’s a fold-down bed attached to the wall on my right. Overhead, a single light bulb flickers dimly.
It’s been a long twenty-four hours. No one else is around. I’ve not seen anyone in a while. I doubt they’ll put any regular prisoners in here with me. Not after what I’ve done.
The way I see it, in the end I had no choice. Cunningham had to pay for what he’d done. On top of all the atrocities he masterminded, he killed Tori. He blew up the entire town of Devil’s Spring to do it, too. I just know he would’ve found some way of beating the system, so killing him was the only way I could guarantee any kind of justice.
I have to admit, speaking as a professional, I’m a little proud of the fact I managed to carry out what many in this game would class as the impossible kill. I had a lot of help, I know, but still I pulled it off.
That said, look where it’s got me… They don’t put people like me in prison for very long. They put people like me in a chair. Any feeling of victory will be short-lived. Very short-lived, I suspect.
The people who know the truth have already made their apologies, which were gestures that offered little comfort, although I appreciated them all the same. But regardless of the circumstances, which I know they’ll do their best to keep out of the public record, the bottom line is I shot and killed the president. In the Oval Office. In front of almost thirty witnesses.
I’m not expecting any favors from the new president, either. Schultz will have to show the world that America has its house in order. I understand that, and I don’t hold what he’ll have to do against him.
I’m just glad I was able to keep Josh away from it all. I’ve left him my fortune. Dollars won’t be worth much where I’m going…
There’s a rattling of keys outside. I look up and see a security guard fumbling hurriedly to unlock the door. Behind him, eight of his friends are standing in line, alert and armed, staring at me like I’ve taken a shit on their front lawns.
Maybe this is it? No trial, no fuss, no wait — straight to the executioner. Can’t say I blame them. They can do away with me quietly, and then spin whatever story they want afterward.
The guard pulls the door open and takes a step inside. “On your feet. You’ve got a visitor.”
A visitor, eh?
I stand casually and lean against the back wall as a man strides into view, his steps patient and deliberate. He’s wearing a brilliant white suit with a black shirt and white tie. He’s got the shiniest pair of black shoes I’ve ever seen. He looks like a walking negative.