Paul Gallagher

Prologue—Carnage

“My God, they’re dead. They’re all dead.”   

A voice, seemingly detached from reality, cracking and despondent, drifted through the television, unsure of what else he could say. Tad Frazier spoke from

a studio desk, stunned, while his cohost was too shocked even to speak. He muttered the first two words before finding the strength to say what everyone saw.

Moments before, television screens across the country relayed the display of the new power couple center stage on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. The

victors faced each other and smiled, then laughed in unison after absorbing the moment. Now, the television feeds footage of all hell breaking loose in

Washington, DC.  

This was the winner’s moment to bask in the glory of achievement and soak in the adoration of a crowd that had been gathering since early morning. Music

blared, balloons fell, and fireworks illuminated the sky in every rainbow color as the celebration started.

The two winners strode on stage, she a step ahead of him, holding hands before raising them overhead triumphantly. The left hand belonged to the now

president-elect and the right hand to the new vice-president-elect. They were the personification of one of their campaign slogans: “Next to every great

man stands an equally great woman.”

She was dressed elegantly in a sparkling dress fit for the evening, but in the act of deference, he tried to downplay his attire, choosing jeans. Once an odd

couple, they were now newly elected free-world leaders.

Seventy-six minutes was all the time needed to declare the two victors. When the first of the three cable news networks officially called the election, the

pair were positioned just off stage so they could immediately talk to the nation. They wanted to celebrate this moment by walking onto the steps of this

iconic landmark. President Obama and Vice President Biden did it years ago to mark a new chapter in America; these two wanted to do the same.

            Another slogan, “Partners for a New America,” hung on a banner above their heads. It was designed to speak to another subset of people, including

the oppressed and the middle class, the forgotten voices who didn’t scream for equal rights but instead went about their business as if it were expected. T

he longtime residents and the young, the massive number of previously unrepresented Americans whose voices were silenced because the last guy won and

their guy lost.

            The new strategies of a candidate trying to reshape the conversation and talk positively about America worked. Nearly thirty million people cast t

heir ballot in early voting throughout the country, and those results were almost immediately broadcast, opening the floodgates of one state after another to

be placed into the win column. Combined with the day’s tally of another seventy million, it meant that one hundred million Americans had voted for this team.

            It was indeed a landslide. All the pundits dissected the votes and separated them by race, gender, and even sexual orientation. The voters for the

winner were many of the forty-one million people born in the fifties who lost their youth to war but later caved to the excesses and lusty greed of the eighties,

cashing in on the dream of doing better than their parents.

Many now regarded those decisions with regret, a sentiment reignited by the anti-war demonstrations of America’s involvement in the Middle East (again)

and Ukraine and the worries of a conflict with China.

Most people backed a candidate who wanted peace above all other pursuits. Those votes were combined with many different blocks of so-called 

demographics, once thought to belong to a liberal party as their birthright, not by merit and representation.

These two leaders, standing in front of America as victors, were a different breed of politician, ones who acknowledged civil rights movements not yet

fully achieved and past hopes dashed with the assassinations of JFK, RFK, and MLK while recognizing that all men were created equal, and sins of the past were

not the burden or responsibility of the young. History left indelible marks on their psyche as reminders of what could have been, and they chose to relay a

message of returning to the original ideals of family, community, faith, nation, and responsibility. Everyone had a role in the new country. The left would not

battle the right. The right would listen to all, and the century ahead with goals everyone agreed upon should be set versus the minority dictating through

guilt, socialism, propaganda, and bully tactics.

Before the polls closed, the media discussed the past year and the violence it held. The parallels of America’s past in 1968, compared with the news of

recent bombings and protests, though, were stark reminders that not all wanted unity.

The candidates spoke about all of it on the campaign trail. Our history, human failings, and realities led us to our present. In the words of these two

leaders standing center stage, no one would stand in the way of progress. Nothing would interfere with building a better tomorrow and future for the country

they loved so much. They were more than marketing words and campaign slogans for peace amid the internal war raging on the streets of America. They stood

for the shining light on the hill where another spoke decades ago of his dream.

The oppressors and opposition to their platform were nameless, faceless oligarchs waging war in the media, igniting both sides of a raging society. The

corporate machines, which, in the eyes of so many, stole from the working man in ways only an economist could explain, and underground terrorist

organizations resurrected from the 1970s when more bombings occurred in one year than in all the decades since.

          This new presidency was needed to restore dignity to the office, which had eroded over decades, not simply within the last four years. For the first

time since 2001, the country was afraid for itself.

            Suddenly, it was all gone. The concentrated blast, some felt as far away as over the Potomac River, destroyed the Lincoln Memorial but did not spray

outward into the crowd. The tower fell in upon itself, and the collapsed wreckage immediately buried the remains of anyone who had previously stood on the

steps and inside the walls. No one within one hundred yards of the explosion survived.

            Tomorrow, theories will be put forth by all the news heads. People would threaten each other, the unity of a few hours would be torn apart, and the

county would be thrown into complete shambles. Charges, accusations, and open-ended questions no one was prepared to answer would be hurled like hand

grenades. As they reported this horrific event, dozens of media heads had already begun to ask questions live on air. Indeed, more online conjecture and

panic would be driven online within the hour.

            “Who would lead come January now? What would be the reaction of those who had voted for a change? Who was responsible?”

            The answers needed to wait. No one knew anything, and most Americans closed their eyes to the horror that they knew would come.

“Who’s next in line, the Speaker?”

            Tad’s cohost, Suzy Baker, composed herself and ignored the teleprompter as reality set in about the ramifications of losing the president and

vice-president-elect.

            “No, Reed is still president until January.”

Tad didn’t miss a beat, his mind on autopilot, programmed to always remain in focus. “They’ll have to revote. Nothing like this has ever happened before. 

There’s nothing in our constitution that covers this. There may be a line or two about sending this to the House, or Senate Pro Tempe, but in reality, the

American people want to be heard. They don’t recognize a Republic whereby they forfeit their vote and allow the people they elect to decide for them. 

There will need to be a new election, which could take months.”

             They both silently considered the consequences while the airwaves carried their confusion to millions of Americans.

            “Does this mean the bombings that have been occurring all year have been practicing for this?” Baker’s mind raced, and she couldn’t quickly filter

the information.

            Tad turned his attention back to her, almost as if in a trance.

            “I—” He stuttered, unsure why she asked the question. “I think it’s too early to tell. Those were small, this—” Frazier stopped again as the images

he watched overtook him. “This is massive. This is chaos.”

            A horrified nation watched the last image projected before all television stations went static.

            The rolling, decapitated head of Abraham Lincoln bounced down the broken, empty steps that moments ago held so much promise.

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