“Your career? I’m talking about your life! This isn’t a political struggle anymore. This is a Goddamn shooting war! Honey, that’s no place for you.”
Jessica laughed, despite her barred teeth. “The nerve! Tomorrow you’re going back to your unit and God only knows to what stupid battlefield they’ll send you. Oh, but that’s all right, because you’re a man, huh? Us little girls should stay back home waiting for the menfolk to—”
Brown nearly punched a hole in the wall next to him, but pulled back and took a deep breath at the last second. “Cut the militant feminist crap, Jessica. You know damn well I respect you. Especially after you saved my ass in Florida. Now, quit changing the subject. I go ‘cause I have to, but you’re going because you want to. Big friggin’ difference.”
Jessica didn’t think it was possible, but his voice actually quivered a little. “Damnit, I don’t want to lose… I mean, ah… I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you! You’re the only thing I care about in this whole damn world.”
He wearily gave up and slumped back down on the bed. Jessica lost all of her carefully prepared barbs. Ever since she helped him escape, or more accurately, forced him to stop his one-man vigilante war against those crazy rebels in Florida, they’d been together. The attraction was purely physical at first. Passion born out of the desperation and violence of the moment. In these last few weeks though, she found herself growing more attached to this grunt. Probably the biggest reason they always fought… she assumed her feelings went only one way. How could she let him get so close? Well, now wasn’t the time for any of those old fears.
She sat down next to him and massaged his neck. He leaned back, but had to open his mouth and spoil it all.
“Honey, come on, this is a stupid thing to fight about. Can’t we drop this foolishness?”
The touching moment passed. Jessica rocketed to her feet. “So now I’m stupid? I….” Tears warred with the urge to slap him. Ashamed of showing weakness in front of him, she composed herself faster than those politicians she always put under the spotlight did. “I can’t do this right now. We’ll talk more when I get back. You should go. I’d like to pack in quiet.”
Jessica watched him like a hawk for the slightest reaction. She couldn’t tell that he was biting off every emotion from anger to fear when he just nodded. Not the smartest move on his part. All this showed to Jessica was that he didn’t really care about her. Brown didn’t say another word as he grabbed his clothes and stormed out of her Manhattan condo. She held the tears at bay until the door slammed.
A fiery Hispanic woman shook her fist at all the cameras. “It doesn’t matter who the USA chooses as president in this sham election. Or if they call the farce a ‘plebiscite’ or ‘referendum’ to make it sound less illegal. Sure, the illegitimate Congress in Washington claims to have delegated their constitutional duty to decide the succession crisis to a popular vote, but they don’t have that authority in the first place. The only legitimate Supreme Court and House of Representatives in the land, the ones located right here in Sacramento, have sworn me in as acting president until we can drive the dictator out of the White House and reunite the country.”
That worn-out rhetoric didn’t generate the applause she expected.
“All right, we have time for one more question. You. Go ahead.”
“Jessica Sinclair from Free America CNBC. Thank you, Governor Salazar—”
“As I just explained, that is President Salazar, Miss Sinclair.” While the older woman’s tone came across indulgingly humorous, the way the podium creaking under her red knuckles belied her seriousness. With those grey predator eyes dissecting her, Jessica visibly gulped.
The governor of California, or acting president of the United Republics of America as a third of the country called her, forced out a smile. Jessica finally began to believe the rumors that Salazar’s ruthlessness was matched only by her epic ambition. An 80 % approval rating across all 14 states in the URA sure didn’t help reign in her ego either… or her power.
“Er… of course, Ms. President. Now, it’s been almost four months since the URA seceded from the Union.”
A murmur rose around the room. The S-word was taboo on the West Coast. A bead of sweat slipped down Jessica’s neck despite the air conditioning as Salazar’s razor-sharp gaze impaled her.
“Pardon me. The URA has never formally seceded. I meant four months since the Freedom Referendums were passed by a majority in fourteen states and your own, um, legitimate Federal Government established. Ma’am, semantics aside, the real question is: Does the absence of major combat operations, from either side, signal slackening support for a military resolution to this crisis with the Washington-based government? With both parties showing such remarkable restraint, is there any truth to the rumors of a negotiated peace settlement in the works for this summer? At least an armistice, if not reunification?”
President Salazar grunted. “Restraint, you say? Do you consider the Washington regime’s invasion of Alaska or regular cross-border raids against our homeland minor affairs? Ladies and gentlemen, we are at war with a mad tyrant. One that has stayed in office months past his term limit and used military force to defend that position. This is not a war I desired, but one we must and will win!”
Most of the news crowd cheered. The local outlets out of patriotism, either real or feigned, and the “foreign” networks on the East Coast… well, mainly from fear. News folk that rubbed the new government the wrong way had a habit of having their passports revoked and deported. The lucky ones, at least. More than a few found themselves locked up on some trumped up charges.
Scared or not, after all Jessica went through in Florida she had more moxi than the rest of the crowd. She licked her lips and pushed her luck a little further. “How do you respond to critics charging that the URA’s inability to push out those small numbers of federal troops in Anchorage, Alaska demonstrates the new nation’s weakness? Or that, out of desperation, the URA sponsors just as many cross-border raids by paramilitary groups as the USA?”
Despite her short experience in the presidential office, Salazar was still a political pro. She refused to take the bait and somehow tied the question to her pre-written talking points. “I can assure you that our military power is a product of our moral fortitude. The stronger our commitment to unity at home, the stronger our forces in the field will be. You can bet our brave men and women in harm’s way don’t let doubt weaken their resolve! There’s no better way to support them than to stand in solidarity with their cause. With the forces of tyranny and special interests willing to go to any lengths to snuff out freedom, well, self-doubt and disharmony are luxuries we can ill afford.”
With the flip of a mental switch, she shifted instantly from Roosevelt mode to charming. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, but I’m afraid that’s all the time we have today. Have to get back to work. Those Washington elites won’t go away by themselves. Stay safe and may God bless these United Republics of America!”
President Salazar’s broad smile broke the second she returned to her office. A flock of assistants and advisors-without-titles followed her in. Some press secretary poured her a $10 mineral water, nearly spilling the glass in his nervousness. “I’m sorry about the last reporter, ma’am. We need to improve our screening methods. It will never happen again. I’ll have that woman embedded with a combat unit by the end of the day. Out of your hair for good.”