Madam President ✓

85. Another Power Transition

Tanya
7:30 AM

In my dreams, I somehow register a faint alarm. Instead of waking immediately, dream me inhales the grass and roses smell of my old backyard. The feeling's so peaceful I don't want to leave- because I know what I'll face as soon as I do wake up.

  Tragedy, possible death- and having to control every aspect of my public image up until a copy of the constitution is passed to Anthony. Until death though- I'm still expected to be a role model.

  Darrel has it the worst. When history classes cover early 2021- they talk about his personal life way too much. On the extremely rare occasion he goes somewhere besides the White House and his house, he has to deal with the same questions- over and over and over again.

  Mr.President, what were you thinking during those four days you were trapped in the rubble?

  Mr.President- how are you feeling today?

  Mr.President how different do you think things would have been if you'd known Katie Elizabeth Clark was your daughter from the beginning?

  To say reporters are tone deaf would be an understatement. Darrel's come to terms with his grief to the point he can get out of bed most mornings, but like all of us he has bad days.

  Sunshine beats down, warming my entire body. I lean on my side and get a good view of the old mansion. The alarm's closer to background music now, harmonizing with the birds. I wonder what I'm doing here for a brief moment.

  Then he emerges through the back door, much younger looking- a toddler by his side. Katie. Through my dreamy haze, I frown. That doesn't even look right. His daughter would be sixteen now- knowing him she'd have a car on her birthday. As the minor child of a former president, secret service wouldn't let her drive without them, and certainly not if he was in the car- but he'd try to give her every sense of normalcy possible.

During his presidential term, secret service had seven to ten classmates spying on her at all times. He told me he explicitly asked not to be told anything she was doing- unless it was safety related.

I blink and Katie's gone.

We're left alone in the rose dotted field. He reaches me before I've processed anything I'm seeing.

"Do you think about her?" He asks.

"Why do you care? You're not real." I yawn.

"Oh come on, you must've imagined the her she was- the her you thought she was, before you found out."

"No shit." I roll over to push myself up, and a particularly long thorn pierces my palm. I try to yank it out- and the pain radiates throughout my entire body. This isn't normal. Fuck I can feel the transition-

A high pitched, familiar scream seems to come from within my ear canals. When I look up, I come face to face with my press secretary, tears streaming down his face. WAKE UP!!

Like it'll do anything, I slowly scoot away. People in my dreams are almost always obscure- something'll be off about the shape of their face or nose or height. Now that I've gotten a good look at dream Walter I can see that's far from the case.

His hair's greasy, sticking to his forehead from the sweat and never having a chance to brush it. He's covered in dirt from the basement- and fresh blood mixes with the dry on his arm and hand. Where his nail used to be, there's bloody skin.

So my subconscious has confirmed what I already know: I'll never be able to forget the fear in his eyes or just how much blood flowed from that tiny hole they made in his arm.