Russell Andrews - Midas

The newscaster began a rehash of recent events-the explosions at Harper’s and La Cucina-and Justin turned away. He was overcome by something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Rage. He could feel the blood rushing to his head and he looked down to find his hands clenched. The customers at Art’s had broken their silence now but Justin couldn’t understand anything they were saying. It was a cacophony of noise and, as he started to sway at the bar, he felt the rush of conversation turn into something physical and stifling and he realized he had to get out of there fast. He was going to burst and he knew what could happen, what he was capable of, when things burst inside of him. So he began pushing his way through the crowd. Head down, he made a path for the front door, vaguely aware that his father was watching him curiously, that Bruno saw what was happening, that someone was in his way but then Bruno was there and the guy was gone, lifted out of Justin’s path, then Justin was outside, on Main Street, in the cold. He’d left his jacket inside the restaurant but he was sweating as he stood on the street. His breath was coming hard and quick. He forced himself to slow it down. He remembered what Deena had taught him during her yoga lessons: breathe deeply, breathe through the nose, let the breath go all the way through, feel it in your face and your neck, your chest, all the way down and out. .

He was feeling better. The world was coming back into focus. The red and yellow lights that were flashing behind his eyes had gone away. And then he felt someone come out from behind him, step out from the restaurant to join him on the street. He turned. It was Reggie. She’d left her coat behind, too, and as she stepped to be beside him, her arms went wrapped around her torso and she shivered. They stood together, saying nothing, until she spoke quietly and gently.

“You all right?”

He liked the way she said it. Not condescending, not even too curious about what had set him off. Just concerned and letting him know that’s the way she felt, no judgment involved.

He nodded. “Better,” he said.

“It just got to you, huh? I mean, another explosion.”

This time he shook his head and she looked surprised. “So what?” she asked.

“It was the target. The people who got killed there.” He swallowed deeply. Took another slow yoga breath.

“What target?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “You mean specific people?” This time, when he gave a quick, curt nod, she said, “But they don’t know who was in the place. They don’t know the identity of the victims yet.”

“I do,” Justin said.

“How can-”

“Where was I yesterday?” he asked. And when her eyes just narrowed, he said, “Silver Spring.”

“You’re talking about the pilot’s family.”

“Yeah.”

“But just ’cause you were there, that doesn’t mean-”

“Yes it does.”

She kept quiet, stared at him intently as if trying to figure out which one he was: smart or crazy.

“The little girl I talked to. She said she and her sister wanted to go to McDonald’s but their mother was too afraid to take them out. I told her she’d get to go soon, that she should help her mother get over her fear.” He exhaled an icy breath. “I guess she felt a little safer after I left. Or else she didn’t care anymore.”

“Jay, you don’t really know it was them.”

“A little nine-year-old girl. Hannah. They said the guy, the bomber, went up to a woman with two kids. The one that’s still alive, barely, they said she was eight or nine. A mother and two kids, same age, it’s not a coincidence. I went and talked to them and now they’re dead. Or might as well be.”

“Why?” she breathed. “Why would they kill a mother and two little girls?”

“I don’t know,” he said. And shaking his head, he said it again. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. I’m going to find out why and I’m going to find out who.”

She kept quiet now, which was the right thing to do. They stood out there together, maybe ten more minutes, until Bruno came out, alone.

“You want me to take your dad and that other guy to the airport?” he asked Justin.

Justin nodded.

“You gonna need me for anything after that?”

“No. Thank you.”

“I don’t like this shit either, Jay. So if you need my particular skill sets, whenever that might be, I’m offerin’.”

Justin raised his eyes wearily, an acceptance of Bruno’s offer. Then Bruno went inside, returned a few moments later with Jonathan Westwood, Roger Mallone, and Connie Martin. The actress looked concerned. Mallone looked frightened. Justin’s father was impassive. He said nothing to his son, but he did reach out and gently squeeze his arm.

“Bruno,” Justin said. “Check with the pilot. Make sure no one, and I mean no one, had any physical contact with the plane. If anyone did, make sure it’s checked out before it takes off.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Jonathan said. “It’s my usual pilot. He couldn’t be more trustworthy.”

“But these aren’t the usual circumstances,” Justin told him. To Bruno he said, “Check out every little detail.”

“If you need anything, let me know,” his father told him.

“Hopefully, you’ve given me enough. But I will. Thank you.”

“Jay,” his father said, then stopped. His lips were pursed as if the words were stuck inside.

“Go ahead and say whatever you want to say.”

“The thing is, I don’t think I have anything to say. I feel like I should give you some advice, but I doubt there’s anything I could tell you that you don’t already know.”

“I guess we’ll see soon enough,” Justin said.

Jonathan nodded crisply and Bruno led his group down Main Street to where his SUV was parked. Justin couldn’t help himself; he held his breath when the engine started up. As the car pulled onto the road, he relaxed.

“The big guy. Bruno,” Reggie said. “What are his particular skill sets?”

“Pretty much what you think they are.”

“Must be nice to have so many people who want to help you out.”

“I guess it is.”

“You need any more help?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

Associated Press story, circulated on America Online

Updated: 03:37 PM EDT

President Anderson Approval Rating

Carries VP Dandridge to Top of Polls

By DEB REYNOSO, AP

November 21

Concerns About Civil Liberties

Dismissed by Attorney General

Priority Given to War on Terror

Washington, D.C.-According to the latest Gallup Poll, the recent spate of terrorist activity within the United States has propelled President Thomas Anderson from the lowest to the highest approval rating he has achieved in the seven years of his presidency. In the wake of those positive numbers, Vice President Phillip Dandridge now has an unprecedented lead over any possible opposition in next year’s presidential race.

Prior to the suicide bombing of Harper’s Restaurant in East Hampton, New York, on November 4 of this year, the percentage of Americans who approved of President Anderson’s performance stood at 42 %. The poll has a margin of error of plus/minus 4 %. According to those questioned in September of this past year, the President’s numbers were down because the majority of people disapproved of the way he was handling the economy as well as the ongoing military situation in Iraq, the various human rights scandals that have emerged there, and what Secretary of State Clayton Bendix calls “The Path to Peace” in the Middle East. As a result of such negative reaction, Vice President Dandridge’s poll ratings were dragged down as well. The Vice President lagged well behind his two likely opponents for next year’s election. The poll now shows, however, that an overwhelming 91 % of the American people approve of the job President Anderson is doing. A nearly equal amount, 88 %, support the Triumph of Freedom Act the President is currently attempting to pass through Congress. The legislation is the centerpiece of the administration’s self-declared war on terrorism.