Donald shivered beneath his umbrella at the top of a knoll and gazed out over the sea of people gathering across the hills, heading towards whichever stage flew their state’s flag, umbrellas bobbing and jostling like water bugs.
Somewhere, a marching band blared a practice tune and stomped another hill into mud. There was a sense in the air that the world was about to change — a woman was about to win nomination for president, only the second such nomination in Donald’s lifetime. And if the pollsters could be believed, this one had more than a chance. Unless the war in Iran took a sudden turn, a milestone would be reached, a final glass ceiling shattered. And it would happen right there in those grand divots in the earth.
More buses churned through the lot and let off their passengers, and Donald pulled out his phone and checked the time. He still had an error icon, the network choked to death from the overwhelming demand. He was surprised, with so much other careful planning, that the committee hadn’t accounted for this and erected a temporary tower or two.
‘Congressman Keene?’
Donald started and turned to find Anna walking along the ridgeline towards him. He glanced down at the Georgia stage but didn’t see her ride. He was surprised she would just walk up. And yet, it was like her to do things the difficult way.
‘I couldn’t tell if that was you,’ she said, smiling. ‘Everyone has the same umbrella.’
‘Yeah, it’s me.’ He took a deep breath, found his chest still felt constricted with nerves whenever he saw her, as though any conversation could get him into trouble.
Anna stepped close as if she expected him to share his umbrella. He moved it to his other hand to give her more space, the drizzle peppering his exposed arm. He scanned the bus lot and searched impossibly for any sign of Helen. She should have been there by now.
‘This is gonna be a mess,’ Anna said.
‘It’s supposed to clear up.’
Someone on the North Carolina stage checked her microphone with a squawk of feedback. ‘We’ll see,’ Anna said. She wrapped her coat tighter against the early morning breeze. ‘Isn’t Helen coming?’
‘Yeah. Senator Thurman insisted. She’s not gonna be happy when she sees how many people are here. She hates crowds. She won’t be happy about the mud, either.’
Anna laughed. ‘I wouldn’t worry about the conditions of the grounds after this.’
Donald thought about all the loads of radioactive waste that would be trucked in. ‘Yeah.’ He saw her point.
He peered down the hill again at the Georgia stage. It would be the site of the first national gathering of delegates later that day, all the most important people under one tent. Behind the stage and among the smoking food tents, the only sign of the underground containment facility was a small concrete tower rising up from the ground, a bristle of antennae sprouting from the top. Donald thought of how much work it would take to haul away all the flags and soaked buntings before the first of the spent fuel rods could finally be brought in.
‘It’s weird to think of a few thousand people from the state of Tennessee stomping around on top of something we designed,’ Anna said. Her arm brushed against Donald’s. He stood perfectly still, wondering if it had been an accident. ‘I wish you’d seen more of the place.’
Donald shivered, more from fighting to remain still than from the cold and moist morning air. He hadn’t told anyone about Mick’s tour the day before. It felt too sacred. He would probably tell Helen about it and no one else. ‘It’s crazy how much time went into something nobody will ever use,’ he said.
Anna murmured her agreement. Her arm was still touching his. There was still no sign of Helen. Donald felt irrationally that he would somehow spot her among the crowds. He usually could. He remembered the high balcony of a place they’d stayed in during their honeymoon in Hawaii. Even from up there, he could spot her taking her early morning walks along the foam line, looking for seashells. There might be a few hundred strollers out on the beach, and yet his eyes would be drawn immediately to her.
‘I guess the only way they were going to build any of this was if we gave them the right kind of insurance,’ Donald said, repeating what the Senator had told him. But it still didn’t feel right.
‘People want to feel safe,’ Anna said. ‘They want to know, if the worst happens, they’ll have someone — something — to fall back on.’
Again, Anna rested against his arm. Definitely not an accident. Donald felt himself withdraw and knew she would sense it too.
‘I was really hoping to tour one of the other bunkers,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘It’d be interesting to see what the other teams came up with. Apparently, though, I don’t have the clearance.’
Anna laughed. ‘I tried the same thing. I’m dying to see our competition. But I can understand them being sensitive. There’s a lot of eyes on this joint.’ She leaned into him once more, ignoring the space he’d made.
‘Don’t you feel that?’ she asked. ‘Like there’s some huge bull’s-eye over this place? I mean, even with the fences and walls down there, you can bet the whole world is gonna be keeping an eye on what happens here.’
Donald nodded. He knew she wasn’t talking about the convention but about what the place would be used for afterwards.
‘Hey, it looks like I’ve got to get back down there.’
He turned to follow her gaze, saw Senator Thurman climbing the hill on foot, a massive black golf umbrella shedding the rain around him. The man seemed impervious to the mud and grime in a way no one else was, the same way he seemed oblivious to the passing of time.
Anna reached over and squeezed Donald’s arm. ‘Congrats again. It was fun working together on this.’
‘Same,’ he said. ‘We make a good team.’
She smiled. He wondered for a moment if she would lean over and kiss his cheek. It would feel natural in that moment. But it came and went. Anna left his protective cover and headed off towards the Senator.
Thurman lifted his umbrella, kissed his daughter’s cheek and watched her descend the hill. He hiked up to join Donald.
They stood beside each other for a pause, the rain dripping off their umbrellas with a muted patter.
‘Sir,’ Donald finally said. He felt newly comfortable in the man’s presence. The last two weeks had been like summer camp, where being around the same people almost every hour of the day brought a level of familiarity and intimacy that knowing them casually for years could never match. There was something about forced confinement that brought people together. Beyond the obvious, physical ways.
‘Damn rain,’ was Thurman’s reply.
‘You can’t control everything,’ Donald said.
The Senator grunted as if he disagreed. ‘Helen not here yet?’
‘No, sir.’ Donald fished in his pocket and felt for his phone. ‘I’ll message her again in a bit. Not sure if my texts are getting through or not — the networks are absolutely crushed. I’m pretty sure this many people descending on this corner of the county is unprecedented.’
‘Well, this will be an unprecedented day,’ Thurman said. ‘Nothing like it ever before.’
‘It was mostly your doing, sir. I mean, not just building this place, but choosing not to run. This country could’ve been yours for the taking this year.’
The Senator laughed. ‘That’s true most years, Donny. But I’ve learned to set my sights higher than that.’
Donald shivered again. He couldn’t remember the last time the Senator had called him that. Maybe that first meeting in his office, more than two years ago? The old man seemed unusually tense.
‘When Helen gets here, I want you to come down to the state tent and see me, okay?’