Trail of Destruction

Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Ryan woke up in the middle of the night and sat on the edge of his bed. His whole body ached as though he had been pummeled in a boxing ring. He got up slowly and walked to his computer. As he waited for it to power up, he wiped the moisture from his eyes. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and placed his hands on the keyboard.

"A Life Cut Short," by Ryan Newcomb

I first met Amy when I joined my brother's campaign two years ago. I remember her enthusiasm and, cynic that I am, I remember thinking that it wouldn't last. Just give her a couple of months on the trail to wipe that out of her system. But I was wrong, because Amy kept her energy and enthusiasm and bright smile up until the end. Up until the day that her life was cut short by a madman's bullet.

As I sit here, there are so many memories flooding my mind. Amy working feverishly to get a coffee stain off my brother's jacket before a meeting. Amy reaching across a table and giving my arm a supportive squeeze when she knew I was down. Amy bringing us coffee as we all struggled to stay awake during a late-night brainstorming session. Brad stepping down from a stage after an important speech and Amy being the first to give him a hug.

It was all the little things that she did for my brother and the rest of us that made her so special. As Brad's personal assistant, it was her job to try to make his life run smoothly. Or at least, as smoothly as could be expected. And she did that in spades. But she didn't stop there. She took care of all of us. If we were hungry, she fed us. If we were tired, she sent us to bed. But her ministrations went beyond the physical. She handled our emotional needs as well. When we were angry, she calmed us. When we were down, she encouraged us. When we were frustrated, she energized us.

And why? What did she get out of this? Not much money. Living out of a suitcase. Leaving her friends back in Chicago. Putting her life on hold so that a man could chase his dream. Not a recipe for happiness, and yet Amy was one of the most joyful people I've ever known.

Partly because she believed in Brad. She thought he should be our next president, and she was willing to do everything she could to help him get elected. And so her job became her passion. And that passion inspired all of us. To do a little more. To push a little harder.

And now that shining light is gone. And the world is a little darker. And we grieve. And we grieve more because there was no reason, no justification, no greater good. Just a life cut short.

* * *

Ryan hit the save key and then sent the article to his editor. It would get there in time to make the morning edition. It wasn't his best work, but for now, he was just too drained to write anymore. He dragged himself to bed and pulled the covers over his head.