Z-Risen (Book 3): Poisoned Earth (21 page)

A Country for Old Men

Some days, Congresswoman Littlefield hated her job. She also hated the fact that she was late for work. Now
there
was a word she hadn’t heard in the two weeks: work. She hated the fact that she actually had better things to do today than to go into work.

It was a Saturday, for crying out loud. She had an appointment to get her nails done and to enjoy a much-needed spa treatment later in the afternoon. Instead, she was sitting in traffic, waiting for a light to change so she could roll into the Capitol building’s parking garage.

Since Congress had shut down the government, she had been sitting around, working on a steady diet of high-powered coffee and trashy romance novels. She turned on FOX News from time to time, but all the talk was about the two parties bickering over whose dick was being held improperly.

The Republican Party (or as she’d taken to calling them, the Grand Old Pussies) wasn’t the party she’d joined fifteen years ago. Not by a long stretch. But here she was, one of them, and she hated it. Not that the Democrats were any better. Neither party cared about what the people really wanted. All her coworkers cared about was getting their asses back into their seats via reelection. They cared about special interest groups and how much lobbyists were going to grease their campaigns in the future.

Her constituents said she should change parties since she had liberal ideas on things like birth control and legalized marijuana in New Mexico. Too bad there was no way to join any Independent Party and be taken seriously anymore.

After working her way through security that was tighter than a vaginal contraceptive dipped in superglue, she made it to the Capitol building. On her way through the door, she spotted the Secret Service agent she had a furious crush on, but avoided his gaze. Agent Brad Trent was all business. He didn’t ever check her out. Instead, she got the eye from eighty-year-old men who’d been in office for so long, their asses were chair-shaped.

At least it was beautiful in the House of Representatives, where she met with her the other representatives. Stately paintings and antique furniture adorned her surroundings, but that still didn’t make her feel like all of the crap was worth it. It certainly wasn’t worth being here on a Saturday after two weeks of sitting around, but the President was insistent that they meet, all of them. It was time to get back to work, and he was already talking concessions.

Her trouble started when she ran into a closing door and spilled coffee down her sensible white shirt. She stared in horror as the brown stain set in. She hadn’t been at work in two weeks, so she’d already taken her emergency bag out of the car. She’d left it at home so she could refresh the contents; one of those items to be refreshed was a new shirt, for just such an event as the coffee debacle.

Shit. She couldn’t go in looking like that. She veered into the women’s bathroom and slipped into a stall. She wore a dark grey suit jacket. She slipped the shirt off and tested the buttons of the grey jacket. They held and covered her ample breasts and it wasn’t like she wasn’t wearing a bra. That was good, because the last thing she wanted was some of the old farts staring down their noses into her cleavage.

This day probably wouldn’t last long, anyway. The President would say what he had to say. The Speaker would counter and they would all go home in a bad mood, and still without a solution.

She checked herself in the bathroom mirror and made sure the jacket would keep her out of trouble. Her blonde hair hung around her face in a cute bob. The local news had gone nuts for her new haircut and even given her a write-up on one of their Internet rags. They thought she was hot and that didn’t bother her one bit. If men wanted to check her out, let them! So long as she was allowed to present her message and be heard, they could stare at her ass all they wanted.

Congresswoman Littlefield tossed her shirt in the trashcan and left the bathroom to take her chances.

She took her seat next to a representative from Vermont. She’d forgotten his name but he was in his seventies and didn’t remember his name either. When he did speak, it wasn’t any less confusing than anything coming from these other old farts.

The show began with opening statements from both parties. Speaker of the House Boehner oversaw the festivities and seemed grim throughout the Vice President’s rambling speech about holding the American people hostage. She wished she was being held hostage by Agent Moore from her romance novels. He was the male lead that rescued the damsels in distress and managed to seduce them along the way.

As the leaders of the free world shifted in seats and booed whenever “the other guy” was talking, the door crashed open, and in strolled Governor Perry. He stood at the entrance for a moment. Several congressmen shifted in their seats and either scowled or smiled at the intruder.

A pair of secret service men rushed in, but when they saw who had crashed the party they settled back to see what would happen.

One of the men was dark-haired Agent Brad Trent. He resembled the hero from the romance novels she was addicted to. She thought about him rescuing her and taking her to a seedy hotel somewhere, a place long removed from Washington DC where she could forget all this pettiness.

He approached the Governor and said something, but Perry didn’t respond. What in the hell was wrong with him? She’d met Perry once, and he did the same thing all the other men in her party did: stared at her chest while pretending to read her nametag or whatever folder she might be carrying.

The Governor from Texas glanced around the room and then his gaze settled on her. She looked around in confusion, hoping he was glaring at someone behind her.

The Governor lurched into action and stumbled toward her. The Congressman from Montana stood up to greet Perry, but was pushed aside.

“Hey now, Perry, that’s no way to treat your old pal,” he said. His shocked look was mirrored throughout the assembly.

Perry stumbled down the aisle until he stood in front of a very confused Congresswoman Littlefield. His face was ashen and his eyes blood shot.

Jeez, was he drunk?

She started to get up, thought better of it, and sat back down. She shifted as she looked around for help, but no one rushed to her aid. Strike that; Special Agent Trent was on the job and on his way.

“Are you okay, Governor?” she asked.

He stared at her chest. She looked down and realized her hastily constructed coverage was in disarray; the top button had popped loose, revealing a wide expanse of cleavage.

“Blughb blughb,” he said.

“Oh for crying out loud!” she exclaimed, and then got a look at something she wished she’d never seen - his crotch. It was expanding like he had a balloon in his pants.

“Sir. I’m going to have to ask you to step outside. I apologize, Governor, but it’s protocol.” Agent Trent smiled at the congresswoman reassuringly.

“Blarghb blarghb,” the Governor replied.

“Drunk idiot,” Agent Trent muttered, firmly placing his hand on the man to escort him out.

Governor Perry was having none of that and snapped around. He lost his footing and fell onto the Congressman from Montana. The old man went down, a silver flask flying out of his jacket.

Congresswoman Littlefield wished she could grab the flask and have a little sip or maybe a few gulps. Perhaps a semi-drunken haze could make this day slip by at a faster pace.

“What’s going on there? Is that you, Governor Perry?”

House Speaker Boehner stared from his seat. His voice boomed over the speaker.

“All rise!” someone yelled, and in strode the President to polite applause, though most eyes were still on the shenanigans taking place in front of Congresswoman Littlefield.

Everyone rose and hands even helped up the Congressman from Montana. He huffed and puffed as his portly form was righted.

All shifted attention to the leader of the free world, except for that of one man: Perry. The man swayed on his feet as Agent Trent tried to escort him out of the chamber.

Then Governor Perry did something crazy. Ridiculous. Insane.

He lifted his head, tilted his mouth back, and snarled like an enraged beast. He leapt with astonishing speed and ripped out the throat of the Congressman from Montana. There were screams of fear and pain, but they were drowned out as the assembly clapped for the President.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the House, we have come together for one purpose, and that purpose is to end this bickering and get back to work. I apologize for the Saturday session and I realize it is not normal for me to be on the floor. This crisis demands that we take action. From the moment I stepped into office . . .” He trailed off.

Congresswoman Littlefield backed up as the men on the floor fought. Not much of a fight since the older man was spouting blood. Thrashing feet tripped the two agents and soon everyone was in a pile on the floor. Blood sprayed as the Governor attacked one of the agents. Congresswoman Littlefield was relieved to see that it wasn’t Agent Trent. He managed to get up on all fours and back away from the brawl.

“What’s going on there?” the President called.

The Speaker of the House rose. Vice President Biden got up. His lips parted just long enough for the entire room to momentarily be blinded by his teeth.

Agents flooded the room and rushed to the President’s side, but he shrugged them off and advanced on the floor. He kept speaking into his lapel so his voice carried over the intercom system.

“This is exactly the kind of bickering and infighting we must stop. I demand that you all quit this! Immediately!”

They didn’t stop.

The Congressman from Montana rose to his feet, covered in blood. His hands were claws as he lurched into motion and promptly fell over the lap of the young Congressman from Indiana. The two fought briefly before the older man bit the younger in the crotch, drawing blood – a lot of it.

A shrill, blood-curdling scream erupted from the young Congressman, and that actually stopped the President in his tracks.

Littlefield fell back into the arms of Agent Trent as the room exploded in madness. The President screamed for order as the Speaker repeated the same words.

She held onto Trent as he pulled her free from the fray. She clutched his hands as he gently but firmly got her to relative safety. He turned to assist the other agents that were rushing into the room but she stopped him.

“Thank you, Agent Trent,” she said as she stared up at him. Her hands were on his shoulders and all he had to do was lean over and plant his lips on hers.

“Just doing my job, ma’am.”

The moment passed. It was just as well, since the fight was spilling into other rows. Secret Service agents tried to move toward the President but the melee stopped them from reaching their goal.

Congresswoman Littlefield shrank into Agent Trent as she watched the insanity. The Governor was back on his feet and on the attack again. His pants had expanded dramatically after he’d feasted on another Congressman. That man was also on his feet and snarling like an animal. He leapt and took down one of the agents near the President.

The men in dark suits tried to usher the President back, but he ignored them and yelled for order. He yelled again that he would sort out this mess, that it was time to come together and ignore all of the pettiness that had grown over the years he’d been in office.

He looked regal and resolute as he leaned over and grabbed one of the men by the scruff of the neck and hauled him up. Smart phone cameras flashed as the moment was captured.

Speaker of the House Boehner didn’t want to be forgotten, so he also grabbed one of the men and lifted him up. He strained, but his whiskey-colored skin didn’t seem to be flushed at all. Was he enjoying this?

“What the in the unholy fuck is happening?!” Beside her, Agent Trent yelled with wide eyes.

He tugged out his sidearm and lifted it but he seemed unsure of exactly where to aim the gun. She wanted to beg him to put it away but this situation was swiftly spiraling out of hand. There was blood everywhere and the attacks didn’t stop or ease. In fact, they were getting worse.

A Congressman from California fell beneath the relentless attacks of a coworker; he also rose with red eyes and a snarling mouth covered in blood. Littlefield fought her gag reflex as the smell of the gore hit her. She backed up another step and found herself against the wall.

The President was pushed into several Secret Service agents. They grabbed him and started to drag him away, but he once again fought free. A few choice words escaped his mouth and echoed around the chamber.

“I’m sick of this fucking bullshit! Let me go!”

The agents ignored him and pulled him away from the fracas. Boehner must have thought that this was his chance to shine. He smiled at a flashing camera and jerked one of the men out of the mess. The man instantly went for Boehner, but the Speaker managed to knock him aside before yet another raving lunatic bowled him over.

Congresswoman Littlefield was pretty sure it was the Congresswoman from the great state of Ohio that went for his throat. Boehner tried to fight her off, but she was livid. She snarled and snapped and drooled blood. Something fell out of her mouth that might have been her own tongue.