Tanya
Four days later
With D.C passing by, Melissa and Walter grill me like reporters. It's a nice change of pace from the constant negotiation and tense conversations we've had with world leaders since the explosion- a few of which even threatened to expose exactly what happened before I had a chance to. My response was always the same: "Mr.President/ Prime Minister/King, I understand why all of you may be reluctant to trust anything that comes out of my mouth right now but let's not make this about petty politics. I have disowned that thing I used to call my daughter. She is simply not a part of my life anymore- not in the same way at least. I may have done a shitty job raising her but that does not make it my fault."
"While it may not be your fault-" the king of England leaned forward once, so normal looking compared to how he's dressed in public appearances. "How the hell did you miss that?"
He was angry and I understood. His granddaughter- the duchess, was in attendance. All of the diplomacy he had around the initial search disappeared when he was told there would be nothing even to bury. His entire world came crashing down around him and he had to announce that to his country.
So now they are mourning too.
"I don't know." Was the only thing I could say. "Just.... The words need to come from my mouth. The county needs to know they have a commander in chief they can trust right now."
After a long pause, he finally said: "Fine. But do it quickly. My citizens are thirsting for someone's blood."
"So are mine." A chill ran down my spine as I thought about it.
The crime rate has increased across the country with people thinking they can get away with things on a local level while the federal government is not at its full capacity. As they've come to discover- that is far from the truth.
"Tanya-" Melissa's voice snaps me out of it. "Were you listening?"
"Uhm... no not really. Can you repeat the question?"
She rubs the bridge of her nose.
"Adding that to the list of things not to say at a press conference...." Walter adds.
"Hey- I've only been doing this for four days and so have you." I gesture to Walter.
"Not really-" he shrugs. "My mother was the governor of Utah for eight years. I was there at every single one she ever held and almost every prep session."
"That explains a lot." Melissa mumbles under her breath. "The questions?"
"Right. Sorry. Hit me."
"Madam President do you plan on stepping down after selecting a more qualified Vice President?"
"We have discussed all of our options, yes- but at this current moment in time that is not a plan of mine. See I took an oath of office, no matter how rushed- to protect this country from all enemies foreign and domestic. I can't exactly do that if I don't keep the position I hold."
"What do you have to say to the Americans that are doubting your leadership?"
"Damnit Melissa, this isn't a campaign stop! This is a press conference to tell them my offspring is a fucking terrorist."
"Like it or not everything you do will be viewed as political from now on out. You can either embrace that or say that you're different from all the others and piss people off."
"I'm the president and a female. I'm gonna piss people off regardless." I sigh as I look out the window.
With each day, the number of ambulances has greatly dwindled. Where most of them used to be there are now reporter's and media companies cars. They are still tirelessly searching through the rubble for one of the missing bodies- Darrel Lowe, who they expect to find dead if anything.
God, it wasn't supposed to end like this.
I was supposed to watch him die ten years earlier because of the age gap, and then I would spend a few years being angry at the world over it. Now- I am just angry at myself.
At the front of the FBI tent, the podium still stands and a safe distance away- the huge crowd of reporters waiting to get their first chance to question me.
We get out at the back and go in. Jane Bowers waits for us.
"Madam President-" The look in her eyes is nothing but pure sadness. "You sure you're ready for this?"
I feel like I've been asked that question a thousand times this week, and each one feels more insulting even though it's not meant to be.
"Sort of." Is my answer. "Walter I need you to go out there first."
"I'm on it." He cracks his neck, takes a few deep breathes, and pushes tent fabric sideways. Immediately, he is bombarded with questions.
"I have no further updates to give from my end so ladies and gentlemen- the president of the United States." He steps aside.
A secret service agent holds the tent exit open for me. My heart pounds so loud and fast I can hear it as if it's on my ear drums.
Here goes nothing.
"Thank you. Four days ago-"
"Do you have a comment to give on the president of France threatening to pull out of NATO?"
"Do you have any information on why he would do such a thing?"
"Why do tensions seems to be rising again on a global level with no explanation from any of our world leaders?"
"Well if you'd shut up for two seconds I could tell you." Damnit Tanya. The crowd of reporters does fall silent though. It's not often that someone asks them to shut the fuck up. "Thank you. January 20th was one of the worst days in our nation's history. Now I made a commitment from the second I took my oath to defend the constitution.... Even if that is from my own family."
Confusion sweeps over them.
"At approximately 4:06 am on January 21st, I was briefed by the FBI. They'd found out who was responsible." The reporters even stop writing now. I picture a family member of a congresswoman or cabinet Secretary or senator sitting somewhere, covering their mouth with their hands. "My daughter. My seventeen fucking year old daughter. And I'm gonna go ahead and confess this now- I slapped the shit out of and disowned her. For that I am not sorry. I cannot apologize for what she did but what I can promise is this: She will face the full wrath of an unforgiving justice system without interference from the White House. Though I do hope, just like all of you- she gets what she deserves."
It doesn't take a genius to infer what I meant.
"Details will come out about her motivations and how she did this as the FBI releases them, but this is an ongoing investigation so I can't say much more-"
"What about that photo that was taken of your congressional opponent? Can you give us another comment on that? Something more than what was said in your official statement?"
"I wish I could but-"
I am interrupted by shouting. Lynn's by my side in seconds, confused as to what's going on while we both watch the secret service spread across the rubble rush to one spot. Then she gets a text, clearly typed in a rush from one of them.
"They found someone. Not sure who yet." She whispers in my ear. She fake smiles, nods at the reporters and ushers me into the tent.
I ignore her warnings to stay inside until they know exactly who it is and go out the back, where I have a better view of the rubble and the ambulances and presidential medicopter that are closest are.
At the same time, Lynn gets a text and the pilot sitting in the medicopter springs up from his sitting position, frantically pressing buttons and pulling levers I can't begin to explain.
"What's going on?" I ask. "What's happening?"
Both of the on site doctors rush past me, along with ten secret service. One of them whispers "we need the presidential defense helicopters NOW!"
My eyes widen. I freeze as it hits me, all while Lynn is trying to pull me to the medicopter, saying it'll actually be easier to protect us both right now if we're in the same place.
"Lynn- Lynn godamnit stop!" I say as she pretty much forces me into my seat. "How bad is it?"
"I'm not sure exactly but...."
Voices grow closer as do footsteps- and that's how I know they've pulled him out. I can hear the reporters from here and glance out the window. Already the defense helicopters have surrounded us, ready to shoot down any threat.
"How far is it to Walter reed?" One of the agents pops her head in.
"Two minutes if I go fast enough." The pilot answers.
I open my mouth to say something, but when they bring him in alive- I forget what I was even thinking.
"Darrel oh my god-" I swallow the vomit that threatens to rise up from looking at the festering, infected flesh from a deep cut running from his rib cage to his ankle. His face is so bloodied from hitting his head it would take me a second if they hadn't already told me who I was looking at, and it's clear he's broken(at the very least) a few ribs, and his other leg.
I get up, much to Lynn's dismay- and kneel on the floor of the medicopter on the opposite side of the two doctors, one of which is inserting a basic fluids IV in his arm. There isn't much else they can do in two minutes besides make sure he doesn't dehydrate to death or go into shock before we get there.
He surprised us all when he grabs my arm with whatever strength he has left and looks into my eyes. The delirium is there, yes- but I also still see him.
"Who's running the county right now?"
Oh god they haven't told him anything yet-
"Uhm... I... I am.."
"You're.... holy shit my cabinet secretaries and... the entire line of succession are all dead?"
I just nod, grateful he hasn't asked about his family yet.
"I want you to fucking destroy whoever did this."
"Of course, Mr.President. Consider it already done."