There are a lot of good reasons the man scares the crap out of me. Those are just the beginning.
“Miss Mason,” he said, indicating the chair on the far side of his desk with a sweep of one hand as he rose. “I trust you didn’t get lost? I was beginning to think you weren’t intending to come.”
“Governor,” I replied. I walked over and sat down, pulling my MP3 recorder from my pocket and placing it on the table. The action triggered at least two video cameras concealed in my clothing. Those were the ones I knew about; I was sure Buffy had hidden half a dozen more in case someone got cute with an EMP pulse. “I was unavoidably detained.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, sitting back down. “Those security checks can be murder, can’t they?”
“They certainly can.” I leaned over to turn on the MP3 recorder with a theatrical flick of my index finger. Smoke and mirrors: If he thought that was my only recording device, he’d worry less about what was really going on the record. “I wanted to thank you for taking the time to sit down with me today and, of course, with our audience at After the End Times. Our readers have been following this campaign with a great deal of interest, and your platform is something that they’re eager to understand in more depth.”
“Clever folks, your readers,” the governor drawled, settling back in his seat. I glanced up without moving my head; the ability to see your interviewees when they don’t know you’re looking is one of the great advantages to living your life behind tinted glass.
It was easier to look than it was to avoid flinching at what I saw. The governor was watching me with undisguised blankness, like a little boy watching a bug he intended to smash. I’m used to people disliking reporters, but that was a bit much. Sitting up again, I straightened my glasses and said, “They are among the most discriminating in the blogging community.”
“Is that so? Well, I suppose that explains their unflagging interest in this year’s race. Been glorious for your ratings, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, Governor, it has. Now, your run for president was a bit of a surprise—political circles held that you wouldn’t be reaching for the office for another cycle. What prompted this early entrance into the race?”
The governor smiled, erasing the blankness from his eyes. Too late; I’d already seen it. In a way, the sudden life in his expression was even more frightening. He was on script now. He thought he knew how to handle me.
“Well, Miss Mason, the long and the short of it is that I’ve been getting a mite worried watching the way things have been going around here. I looked out at the field and realized that, unless I was on it, there just wasn’t anyone out there that I’d trust to watch after my wife and two boys when the dead decided it was time for another mass uprising. America needs a strong leader in this time of turmoil. Someone who knows what it means for a man to fight to hold what’s his. No offense against my esteemed opponent, but the good senator hasn’t ever fought for what he loves. He doesn’t understand it the way he would if he’d ever bled to keep it.” His tone was jovial and almost jocular, a father figure imparting wisdom on a privileged student.
I wasn’t buying it. Keeping my expression professional, I said, “So you see this as a two-man race—between yourself and Senator Ryman.”
“Let’s be honest here: It is a two-man race. Kirsten Wagman is a good woman with strong Republican values and a firm grasp of the morals of this nation, but she’s not going to be our next president. She isn’t prepared to do what’s needed for the people and the economy of this great land.”
Resisting the urge to point out that Kirsten Wagman believed in using her breasts in place of an informed debate, I asked, “Governor, what do you feel is needed for the people of America?”
“This country was based on the three Fs, Miss Mason: Freedom, Faith, and Family.” I could hear the capital letters in his voice; he said the words with that much force. “We’ve gone to great lengths to preserve the first of those things, but we’ve allowed the other two to slip by the wayside as we focused on the here and now. We’re drifting away from God.” The blankness was back in his eyes. “We’re being judged; we’re being tested. I’m afraid we’re coming direly close to failing, and this isn’t a test you get to take more than once.”
“Can you give me an example of this ‘failure’?”
“Why, the loss of Alaska, Miss Mason; a great American territory ceded to the dead because we didn’t have the guts to stand up for what was rightly ours. Our boys weren’t willing to put their faith in God and stand that line, and now a treasured part of our nation is lost, maybe forever. How long before that happens again, in Hawaii or Puerto Rico or, God forbid, even the American Heartland? We’ve gotten soft behind our walls. It’s time to put our trust in God.”
“Governor, you saw action in the Canadian Border Cleansing. I’d expect you to understand why Alaska had to be abandoned.”
“And I’d expect you to understand why a true American never lets go of what’s his. We should have fought. Under my leadership, we will fight, and we will by God win.”
I suppressed the unprofessional urge to shudder. His voice held all the hallmarks of a fanatic. “You’re requesting relaxation of Mason’s Law, Governor. Is there a particular reason for that?”
“There’s nothing in the Constitution that says a man can’t feed his family however he sees fit, even if that way isn’t exactly popular. Laws that limit our freedoms are needless as often as not. Why, look what happened when the Democrats stopped fighting for their unconstitutional gun control laws. Did gunshot deaths climb? No. They declined by forty percent the first year, and they’ve been dropping steadily ever since. It stands to reason that relaxation of other antifreedom legislation would—”
“How many of the infected are killed with guns every year?”
He paused, eyes narrowing. “I don’t see what bearing that has on our discussion.”
“According to the most recent CDC figures, ninety percent of the Kellis-Amberlee victims that are killed in clashes with the uninfected are killed by gunshot.”
“Guns fired by licensed, law-abiding citizens.”
“Yes, Governor. The CDC has also said that it’s virtually impossible to tell a murder victim killed by a shot to the head or spinal column from an infected individual put down legally in the same fashion. What is your answer to critics of the relaxed gun control laws who hold that gun-related violence has actually increased, but has been masked by the postmortem amplification of the Kellis-Amberlee virus?”
“Well, Miss Mason, I suppose I’d have to ask them for proof.” He leaned forward. “You carry a gun?”
“I’m a licensed journalist.”
“Does that mean yes?”
“It means I’m required to by law.”
“Would you feel safe entering a hazard zone without it? Letting your kids enter a hazard zone? This isn’t the civilized world anymore, Miss Mason. The natives are always restless now. Soon as you get sick, you start to hate the folks who aren’t. America needs a man who isn’t afraid to say that your rights end where the grave begins. No mercy, no clemency, and no limits on what a man can do to protect what’s his.”