Midnight by Anna Dove (books for new readers .TXT) 📕

and with each day, new information came to light, new witnesses submitted testimonials. The security at the former president’s prison was tripled, not to keep the man in, but to keep out the masses who came to it ready to kill the prisoner inside.

         On August 27th, the morning paper alerted the country of another White House announcement. At 3pm, all radios were tuned in, and millions of ears strained to hear the anticipated news coming from the White House.

         Haley, Elizabeth, Carlos and Jack sat around the table, as well as Haley’s family who had returned. No one spoke as the radio sputtered in static and then cleared, as the seconds ticked down to the top of the hour.

Then, Adela’s musical voice came through the radio, clear and measured like a sonata.

“Thank you all so very much for listening today. I am truly honored and touched by your sacrifices. It has been the worst of times, truly there are no words to describe the horror and the hell of what our nation has gone through. Betrayed by its own president, who enacted the unthinkable, and I, who knew him best, am among the most devastated—”

For a moment there was silence as her voice trembled on the last word and the trembling was the vibrato of the violin drawing emphasis on the string.

“It goes without saying that this man is no longer my husband. He has betrayed me to the fullest and he has betrayed his countrymen—no, it is worse than betrayal. My fellow Americans, we have been the victims of an attack on the very essence of our beings. Our friends and families have died. We have struggled to find food. We lived in fear of foreign attack. We have worked tirelessly to restore a certain order to our way of life, to repeat the development that brought us from the late nineteenth century to the wealth and safety of those days prior to the attack. Every single one of you is working beyond what anyone could ask, in pursuit of this dream. And we will attain it, we will! We will rebuild our infrastructure, our defense, our wealth and stability. Our entire system has been wiped out and now we start with a new foundation. We will now build from the ground up.”

She paused and took a deep breath, one beat, two, three.

“My fellow Americans,” she said calmly and resolutely, the sonata becoming an anthem, an inspiring orchestration. “In pursuit of the restoration of this country to its greatness, in order to make amends for what my husband has done, I am announcing officially that I will be running for President this fall. I choose not to associate with either party label, but I am running under my own party, which will be called the Party of Restoration. We have fallen; but we will not stay down. We are a nation of survivors. Of fighters. Of believers. I am running for President so that I may lead us all, that we may survive the terrors of yesterday, that we may fight the perils of today, and that we may believe in the greatness of tomorrow!”

The voice continued from the radio, but the words now blended together in Haley’s mind like a string of discords. Something snapped; she reached for the radio and hurled it violently against the wall. It shattered into pieces, and then the room was silent. No one moved.

Then, Haley turned calmly to Elizabeth, Jack and Carlos.

“Pack your bags,” she said.

PART 3

THE TRIAL

 

21.  The Rally

“The measure of a man is what he does with power.”

―

Plato

The trial of Gilman vs. United States was set for October 12, 2033 in the United States District Court for the District of Columbia. The week after Mr. Gilman’s arrest, he had been impeached unanimously by the House of Representatives and convicted unanimously by the Senate, after a variety of Reed and Adela’s cohorts from all government departments, as well as Reed and Adela themselves, willingly provided both chambers completely false but completely convincing testimony. Having predetermined his guilt, the entire country waited in anticipation for his trial like a soaring hawk circling until its prey appears.

         +

         For a moment now, we travel a decade backwards in time to a little town called Bridgehampton, New York. It is just east of Southampton, and if you keep going east, you will eventually arrive in Montauk, on the tip of Long Island. The year to which we return is 2023, and the month is July.

          The Gilmans (at this point just known by their first names) were taking advantage of their summer house in Bridgehampton (or Bridge, as the locals call it). Their summer house was a mansion by all reasonable standards, for before he entered politics, Mr. Gilman was a relentless businessman on Wall Street, fearing neither man nor God in his dealings.

          Their home was lovely, a glass front, ocean-facing sort of creation, with spiral staircases and white walls and high ceilings. Adela stood now in front of one of the tall glass panels, her bare feet on the cool marble floor, her eyes taking in the ocean waves crashing on the shore. The supple sand stretched out from the dunes to the waves, littered with shells and pieces of driftwood cast up out of the reach of the receding tide.

          “It’s so hot outside,” she murmured, to herself.

          Behind her, Gilman came down the stairs. He was clean shaven and strikingly handsome, his suit jacket was unbuttoned casually over his pale blue shirt. He held a glass half-full of whiskey.

           “I’m taking you out tonight. Anywhere you want. We have to celebrate. I’ve decided to do it,” he said excitedly.

           Adela turned and smiled.

            “Do what?”

            “Well, you see, last night I was talking to Franklin, down at the office. I told him I wanted to run for governor