Chapter Four
Vice President Sanders had known this day was coming for the past week. He had known the date, time, and even the location of what was about to happen for that entire time. He still didn’t feel ready. Even more concerning was the fact that it still didn’t seem real.
He couldn’t help but think that this would be the last morning for the next few years that he would wake up to relative calm. From this day forward, until his term as President ended, he would have added security, news media, additional staff, the American people, and large portions of the global population all watching his every move, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year.
He knew that from this day, until his last day in office that there would be a ludicrous number of people surrounding him. They would be seeking guidance. They would be searching for leadership on virtually every subject known to humankind. This office was known to push those in it to the absolute limit of human capacity. The Presidency of The United States was said to be among the most challenging job in the world.
He looked in the mirror and focused on the lines around his eyes. He could not help but be surprised at just how deep they had gotten. When did they get like that? He could barely remember his face before their presence, but today, somehow, they seemed to have deepened overnight.
He took a minute to go through a quick headcount. He had three children, eight grandchildren and the first of what he hoped would be many great-grandchildren. They were his real legacy. All of them would all be with him later in the day at the comparatively small ceremony thrusting him, rather rudely in his opinion, into the Presidency.
There had simply not been time to prepare the normal, larger-scale ceremony which was typically involved in this process. He thanked whatever Supreme Being was listening for their presence, asking for their assistance in the coming months.
A large part of him feared that he would be unable to perform his duties as well as this country that he loved deserved. He secretly hoped that he wasn’t the only person in history to be on the verge of being sworn in to have this fear.
A knock at the door to his bedroom brought him back to reality, “Mr. Vice President?”
“Come on in Stanley,” he called to the voice as the head of his Secret Service detail opened the door.
The brick of a man was, as always, flawless in appearance and professional in demeanor. He looked so good in a suit that it made the female staffers around the Vice President look for any excuse to be wherever he was more often than they should. Stan, being the consummate professional, barely noticed. This served to annoy some of the women and made them even more determined to catch his eye, as he remained focused on his job at all times. He knew they were in the room, but their gender never appeared to register. He was only concerned with physical threats.
His well-tailored suit held the man nicely, but it also shielded from view an arsenal of weaponry intended to protect him, a mere politician, from an untimely death. The weaponry was one aspect of his admiration, but what really held the Vice President in awe of these agents was that they would voluntarily place their body between him and a potential assassin so that the agent would be shot, and not the politician. They all accepted it as part of their job, and it was amazing to just think about. They were willing to take a bullet intended for someone else. It was awe inspiring. The agents really held a special place in The Vice President’s heart. Most people in the country had heard of this organization, but few realized the actual sacrifices these hard working men and women were prepared to make when duty called.
Stanley spoke with a very deep, unaccented voice, “Sir, we have everything in place. Our departure can occur anytime you are ready to go, but we must leave in no more than thirty minutes, if we are to keep to the schedule.”
The Vice President looked at the man and smiled, “Stanley, I wish I had met you before my wife passed away. You two would have liked one another. She always kept me punctual. I figure if the two of you evah had the opportunity to conspire, I would never be late for anything, anywhere, evah,” he said with his New England accent showing through just a bit. He sometimes allowed that to happen when he was in private. Publicly he had no trace of an accent from any region. It was important in national politics to relate to all audiences.
“I am sure I would have liked her, Mr. Vice President. If you would let me know when you are ready we will get you there on time and intact,” replied the agent.
“I am all set Stanley. Now is as good a time as any,” he said as he moved slowly to the door.
While making their way down the long hallway they were joined by Roxanne and continued on in silence to the limousine. Two of them were lost in their own thoughts, the third kept an ever vigilant eye out for any sign of possible trouble.
The Vice President knew they were marching him off to his new place in history books yet to be written. He just hoped that he could leave a positive mark for those authors to write about.
Many people had written him letters, sent messages on social media, and any other way they could to get the word to him that they hoped he would lead them out of the current national malaise. Many wanted him to be the shining light at the end of the tunnel. There was another portion of the population that seemed to believe he was just going to keep doing whatever his predecessor had done, and lead the country into an even bigger mess. There appeared to be nothing in the middle He took it as a sign of just how divided the United States had become.
The country was far more politically divided than it had been in many years. Perhaps as much as any time since the Civil War. This had bothered him each and every day since realizing he was going to become President.
The three of them climbed into the armored limousine and the motorcade departed for the White House. The Vice President settled back into his seat and turned the radio to his favorite local news and talk station.
The current topic of discussion pleasantly surprised him. They were not talking about him. They were focusing on the growing protest going on near their intended destination.
He saw Stan put a finger to his ear, appearing to concentrate as he received information over his ever-present earpiece before breaking the silence, “Mister Vice President, we really should turn around and take the helicopter. The protestors are blocking various streets and which road is clear is changing quickly, as well as unpredictably, even with the increased police presence. Even with the motorcade it might be impossible to get through quickly. They appear to be surrounding the White House, but at a reasonable distance at the moment. However, they are between us and our final destination.”