“It’s either you or me,” Patton said tersely.
He could hear Frank hesitate on the other end of the line and that was all the answer he needed.
“Frank? You there?”
“Yeah,” Frank said breathlessly.
“I’ll do it then,” Patton said, still glaring angrily at the man who was about to become his political rival.
There was a pause and then Frank said, “Good,” and hung up.
Within a week Patton had the necessary signatures to run against David Asher. However, a date for the new election wasn’t soon in coming. There was one delay after another until, finally, there was such an outcry from the public that city officials had to set the date. Yet, after another month, the people began to see that the Asher administration was breaking its promise.
Asher took to TV to admit as much, telling the audience that “The logistics of a new elections was just too complicated,” and that since the regularly scheduled elections were approaching anyway, it would be better if they just waited until that time. He also argued that removing him from office with just over a year to go would create chaos, and wouldn’t give his replacement enough time to get anything done.
Patton took to his blogsite and any TV show that would have him. He countered with the argument that getting David Asher out of office just one day early would be worth it. At first, voters were experiencing campaign fatigue—they’d just endured an election and watched their governor-to-be assassinated. However, Patton built a grassroots movement that slowly gained momentum. David Asher eventually relented and set a date for a second recall election for the Tuesday after Labor Day.
CHAPTER 20
“He’s our guy,” Anna said to Asher and Charlie after the young man closed the door behind him. “He has the look, the attitude. Nobody knows him.” She looked at them in turn, waiting to hear their opinions.
Asher looked at Charlie. Their eyes met and Charlie nodded.
“Okay. Let’s meet with him again tomorrow and finalize your plans,” Asher said in his best authoritative tone.
Anna patted his arm and stood. She needed to get high. She disappeared into her bedroom to find her stash of marijuana and her pipe.
“What’s wrong with you?” Asher asked her as she loaded her pipe.
She glared at him, not answering. She lit the bowl and took a deep hit. She closed her eyes, holding the smoke in her lungs, letting it out slowly. She held the pipe and lighter up towards Charlie. “You want some?” she asked him.
He stood and reached out for the pipe.
“What will this kid do for us?” Asher asked, trying to not sound naive.
“He’ll run as a conservative and split the vote with Larsen,” she said simply. “Nobody knows who he is and what he really stands for. It doesn’t matter what he says. He’ll be the conservative version of you.”
Asher smiled at her appreciatively. Annoyed as she was with him—she was tired of holding his hand every step of the way—she couldn’t help but be turned on by him. She’d rejected his advances for a while and considered waiting a little longer. Or maybe not. She was feeling mellow now, the effect of the smoke had started to kick in.
“So he’ll pretty much parrot everything Larsen says, but he’s younger, more dynamic. He seems sharp and articulate,” Asher said, nodding.
“Yes,” Anna replied. She took the pipe and lighter back from Charlie and took another hit. “You’re going to win, even in a runoff. The other two are going to make people so sick of political fighting they’re going to drive down interest and turnout. Then, we are going to announce some reforms that will help build support.”
Asher was skeptical. He looked over at Charlie.
“He’ll tell you the same thing,” Anna said, trying not to be offended that he didn’t believe her analysis. “You performed well after the assassination. The people feel like you brought calm.”
Anna took another hit and looked over at Charlie, who was now practically unconscious. She looked at Asher and then stood and walked down the hall towards her bedroom. As she opened the door she looked back at him. He took one last look at Charlie—he was snoring now—and followed her to into her bedroom.
The young man they met with was Tyler Redding. He closed the door behind him, knowing they were going to talk about him, but he didn’t think it would be anything but positive. The girl, Anna, had found him through her a friend and had convinced him to participate in this little charade. What David Asher didn’t know was that Tyler was going replace him when his term was over.
Tyler decided to walk the two miles home to where he was shacking up with one of Charlie’s recruits. Anna told him that he needed to find a new place to live. If it was found that he wasn’t supposed to be in Blue Creek—that he hadn’t been selected for the experiment and was just an “illegal”—he would be ineligible for the election.
Tyler was intrigued by his new hometown. It was quaint, the people were generally nice, and the mountains were spectacular. Still, he couldn’t help but pine for his adopted hometown of New York City. Much like Anna, he was urbane and thrived in the big city. However, he felt the pull of this experiment. It was the only true laboratory to implement progressive policies.
After finishing his undergraduate degree at Princeton, he was accepted into Columbia’s School of Law and immediately moved to New York City. During a self-imposed, yearlong hiatus from school, Tyler heard about this experiment and he applied. He wasn’t accepted and he was about to give up and enter law school, but he remembered something his favorite professor at Princeton told him.
“Young man, a true progressive doesn’t let rules or conventions get in his way of doing what is right.”
That had stuck with him. His study of the anti-Vietnam protests drilled this maxim inside. If your end goal is right, he was also told, whatever you do to get there is okay. If you break the law but don’t get caught, did you really break it? Riots, violence, even bombings. Liberals were on the right side of history and it was their right—no, their obligation—to defeat their enemies and pass their agenda. Now, here he was, about to embark on a journey that would one day take him to the seat of power. Yes, he would have to pretend to be a conservative—the thought of doing so nearly made him sick—but again, the ends justify the means.
‘Who is this little bastard?’ Patton thought, looking at one of Tyler Redding’s yard signs. The red sign had large white letters, which read, “Redding for Governor.” To the left of the writing there was a large photo of the smiling, attractive young man. The kid reminded him of Asher, not knowing that that was precisely what his handlers wanted.
Patton wasn’t worried, necessarily. Governor Asher was polling just above forty percent. Still, he had no idea who the kid was or what he stood for. His cynical nature led to the impression that this new candidate was a fraud. Maybe that old bastard Charlie Henry and that little tramp were putting this new kid up to it—to split the vote or something.
But he quickly waved this idea away. Why would they run a decoy candidate when they had their own candidate to worry about? It was probably some cocky young kid who thought he could win with his good looks and crafty speeches. He would take a small part of the vote, either from himself or from Asher, but Patton figured he wouldn’t be much of a factor.
And of course, in that thought, he was wrong.