Tim Washburn - Powerless

After several rest stops, they make it to Summer’s home sometime around midafternoon. Zeke dismounts, hands the reins to Ruth, and steps up on the porch while removing his hat. She must have heard his footfalls, because the door swings wide.

“Zeke,” she shouts as she lunges into his arms. He wraps his arms around her, somewhat surprised by the greeting.

“I didn’t think you were coming back,” she says, taking a step back.

“We had some difficulties. Okay if we bed down in the barn?”

“No.”

Zeke is momentarily stunned by her response. “I thought we agreed—”

She puts her hand to his mouth. “You’re not staying in the barn.” She looks past his shoulder. “C’mon in.”

The Oval Office

President Harris is at his desk when Chief of Staff Scott Alexander enters the Oval Office. “It’s been a pretty good week, considering,” Alexander says as he sits in the chair flanking the historic desk.

“Yeah, the old ‘Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?’ phrase pretty much sums up the week.”

“Hey, the Iranian troops are heading home—that’s something.”

“I suppose you’re right, Scott. But there’s a hell of a lot more stuff to deal with. What did the South Koreans say?”

“They want about half of next year’s total budget to ship the transformers to us.”

“Those bastards.” President Harris throws his pen on the desk and stands. “After all we’ve done for that fucking two-bit country?” President Harris begins pacing. “How about we pull every last American troop from their country? Did you ask them that?”

“No, I didn’t,” Alexander says, watching the President’s furious march from one side of the room to the other.

President Harris stops and turns. “How much aid did we give them last year?”

“Offhand, I’d estimate about a billion dollars.”

“Well, that stops right this damn minute. If they want to play hardball I’ll shut them down before they even get started. I won’t let another damn Hyundai or Kia roll off a ship. I’ll strangle their damn economy.”

“Paul, slow down before you stroke out.”

The President stops and shoots Alexander an angry glare before stalking back to his desk.

Alexander waits for the President to sit. “They’re just trying to get the most for their product. A product we’re in desperate need of. And they know exactly how desperate we are.”

“What happened to helping your fellow man? Are the South Koreans immune?”

“Not necessarily. The manufacturer is not a state-owned entity. It’s a private business.”

“Bullshit, Scott. The South Korean government has their hand in all those businesses. They’re just using that for an excuse. Hell, they could take over the whole damn plant based on a national security need. I know how the bastards work.” The President stands again and paces another lap around the office.

Scott gives him time to sort through the possibilities. Although President Harris can be a hothead when provoked, he’s better known for his well-thought-out reasoning.

“Scott, would you please get President Choi on the phone?”

“You don’t want to handle this through the State Department?”

“Hell no. It’ll take six months for them to even connect on the phone. I want to talk to him man-to-man.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

President Harris stops pacing and turns to face his chief of staff, “I’m sure, Scott.”

“Okay, sir,” Alexander says as he walks to the phone near the two sofas across the room. He instructs the President’s secretary to place a call to the president of South Korea.

“I suppose you don’t want an interpreter,” Scott says.

“No. He got his master’s and Ph.D. from Cambridge. He probably speaks better English than I do.”

It takes longer than usual to place the call. Finally, the intercom buzzes. “Sir, President Choi on line one.”

President Harris walks to one of the sofas and takes a seat, grabbing the handset on the way down. “Good day, Mr. President, thank you for taking my call.”

Scott takes a seat on the opposing couch. He can hear only one side of the conversation, but he cringes during some of the more heated portions of the phone call.

After several minutes, President Harris plays his ultimatum. “Mr. President, I’m thinking of embargoing all future South Korean exports to the U.S.”

Scott can overhear the raised voice of South Korea’s president from where he’s sitting. The President glances over at his chief of staff and raises his eyebrows as the verbal tirade on the other end continues.

President Harris listens, then says, “What was the last portion, President Choi?”

More babble over the phone. When the South Korean president finishes, President Harris says, “Sounds reasonable.” More chatter on the other end. “I believe that’s reasonable.” More chatter. “Thank you, President Choi, for your empathy.”

The President glances up and gets an eye roll from Alexander.

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you soon.”

President Harris replaces the handset.

“Well?” Alexander says.

President Harris smiles. “They’ll have four of the largest transformers on a ship within a week.”

“That’s all?”

“No, there’s more. They will ship four of the behemoths a month until our electrical grid has been restored.”

“I’ll be damned,” Scott says. “What did you promise them?”

“Nothing. You were sitting right there listening to my half of the conversation. Did you hear me promise them anything?”

“So he caved at the threatened embargo?”

“Of course. Their country would return back to the rice paddy days if American markets were closed to their products.” President Harris walks over to one of the bookshelves and pulls a lever. The bottom portion swings open to reveal a well-stocked bar. “Now, I’d say we’ve had a decent week. What’ll you have, Scott?”

The Peterson home

Ruth takes an immediate liking to Summer. Zeke doesn’t know if it is because of Summer’s reaction to his return, or simply a woman thing. Ruth has been by his side through all of the devastation and he knows she has a very tender spot in her heart for her big brother. Whatever the reason, he feels—hell—he doesn’t know how he feels. Happy, maybe. For the first time in a long while Zeke feels some type of connection with a woman. Or the situation might be more complex. Maybe he misunderstood the look on Summer’s face when she opened the door. He’s starting to get a headache from all the thinking.

He leads the horses over to the barn to occupy his mind. He unsaddles Murphy and removes the makeshift saddles from the mares before ripping open a bale of hay. Zeke steps outside to the old hand pump to rinse the golf course residue from the canteen. He refills the canteen, then ducks his head under the chilly stream to wash the road grime from his face.

When he returns to the house he tells Ruth about the water pump and she immediately takes the children out to wash them up. Zeke hands the full canteen to Carl and he eagerly slurps the water through his straw.

“Are the turkeys still around?” he says to Summer, who is standing in the kitchen. Zeke walks closer to her, and she wraps her arms around him from the side.

“I’m glad you came back,” she whispers.

His heart is hammering as if he had crossed the finish line of a marathon. “Me, too,” he says, glancing down into her green eyes.

She tiptoes up and brushes her lips across his for the first time, sending his heart perilously close to redline. “The turkeys are still around, or they were yesterday. They should be out and about around sundown. I just hope they’re not too skittish, having lost a member or two of their flock.”