King of the Mountain:
Part 7
Lynn Jepsen
Lisa tossed and turned all night. Only the knowledge that Josh would get
hostile if I woke him up kept me from grabbing the phone. Instead, I
decided to read over my schedule for today and figure out exactly when
Lisa and I will have time to talk. There's been this... this thing, and
it's starting to feel like there are three people in this relationship -
me, her, and all of our numerous fights, screw-ups, and mistakes wrapped
up in a shiny package with a big bow stuck on top. I'd like to unwrap the
damn package and make it go away before much else goes wrong. Besides,
it's not healthy to go through a campaign with no one to turn to.
I guess it's a sign that it's too early when I forget how to tie my
jogging shoes. That's pretty bad, I mean, it's a skill I've had for what,
thirty-five years? That'd be like forgetting how to talk. I scribble a
note on the hotel stationary and set it next to Lisa on the bed. Kissing
her cheek, I grab my keys and stuff them in the pocket of my sweats
before interrupting the wonderful nap Brutus is having. He opens one eye
lazily and when he sees the jogging outfit, rouses himself from his
slumber to tag along.
It's cold out. I'm thinking I should have put on a jacket over my
sweatshirt. I sympathize with the troopers. No reason they should freeze
just 'cause I've got insomnia. Actually, once I get moving, the
temperature doesn't bother me as much, and I can feel the blood pumping.
This is definitely better than sitting around waiting until I can start
waking people up and ordering them around. I've got to make sure that
Toby sits on Josh today. The last thing we need is for Josh to get
hostile on television. I mean, come on. People are just starting to
forget about the stupid stuff he did in the White House. Let's not
refresh their memories.
Speaking of stupid stuff done while in the White House... I've discovered
the one good thing to come out of the assassination. Journalists are
afraid to talk about Laurie. I guess there's still this
speak-no-ill-of-the-dead superstition they've got going on. Not that I'm
complaining, but I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. After all,
we already know we can survive most normal assaults. That first
gubernatorial race... I thought for sure we'd never survive the questions
about my mental fitness. Nothing Reynolds or Klein or anyone can come up
with will surpass that initial attack from Mark Kaupfer. I thought I was
going to end up in hiding when it was all over. As it turns out,
Kaupfer's chicken. Josh got hostile and he ran for cover. Now if only
Josh hadn't been hostile on camera....
Anyway, he isn't allowed to get hostile until Super Tuesday. By then,
people will be used to Josh's... temperament once again. At least, that's
what we keep telling ourselves. Then, if we win, he'll be intimidating a
whole new assortment of congressmen and senators. Of course, that
requires us to win.
The air is brisk, I'll freely admit to that. I think we're having lunch
at the Bartlet farm tomorrow and I'm already looking forward to it. I
haven't seen any of the Bartlet's in over a year, unless you count Mrs.
Bartlet's television interview last fall. Plus, I think Josh is
interviewing Charlie for William's job. The way he keeps bringing people
on board, I almost expect to see Bonnie and Ginger at breakfast, Cathy
and Nancy at lunch, and Hoynes and Leo at dinner. The only people I'm
certain Josh has no hope of hiring are Mandy Hampton who's already
working for Reynolds, and Ainsley Hayes who's the new political director
for the RNC.
I glance down at my watch when I reach the top of a small hill. I still
have twenty minutes before I have to turn back and so I jog down the
hill. I'm out of town now, and I realize this is what's missing in
California. I don't think I've seen that stars in six years - too much
light pollution.
There's a grove of trees next to the road, and I don't realize it's some
sort of park until I see the trail. It looks like it curves around back
towards the hotel, so I decide to take the trail. Of course, it's not
like I really had a choice, because Brutus seems rather intent on going
through the trees. It's only when the trail curls around a small lake
that I realize it doesn't turn back to the hotel at all. Great. "Brutus!"
Surprisingly, the dog obeys, and we jog back down towards the road.
You know, it's only right that Brutus is here. After all, back in 2004,
he contributed greatly to the campaign - Carol threatened to unleash him
on the press corps, and I think she was a little too convincing, because
we had two and a half days of glowing press in the days leading up to the
election. Besides, I like Brutus more than Caesar. Sarah's cat is
completely insane. I can understand why Josh likes to get drunk and yell
at cats - they provoke it.
Brutus is barking now, and he stops our jog to chase a squirrel up a
tree. "Brutus! Get over here!" He stares at me, and I wonder what Lisa
did to deserve such intense loyalty from this mutt. "Brutus, come on.
It'd be bad press for the governor's dog to kill local squirrels." I'm
convinced he understands English because he lets the squirrels roam free.
The road looms in front of us now, and I glance at my watch. Definitely
going to be late to the staff meeting. "We shouldn't have run so far,
Brutus. Why didn't you say something sooner." Okay, let's just hope no
one listens to me talking to my wife's dog.
Going uphill is a bit of a challenge, and I have to remind myself that
I'm not twenty anymore. Granted, I am, in Lisa's words, a health nut, but
I'm also forty-one and I guess I can't run as far as I used to. So tell
me, Brutus, are you going to go jogging with Lisa tonight, or are you a
one-runner kind of dog? No answer, huh? Well, that's fine with me. If you
answered, I'd probably be more concerned than if you didn't. I think the
campaign should purchase a Concorde. I'm sure with Toby and CJ and Lisa
it'd save us on air fair in the long run. Somehow, the voters would find
a way to misconstrue that though.
When we get back into town, I'm surprised by how early it is. I might
make the meeting after all. At the intersection, Brutus stops and I
fumble in my pocket and fish out his leash. No need to frighten the
natives or get a ticket for leash law violations. Maybe we can scrape
together some time after the meeting to talk. You think Lisa'd talk to
me? Maybe I ought to tuck a note in your collar. Huh, Brutus, you want to
play messenger for me? He pulls at the leash then, and I glance up. The
light's turned green and I move from jogging in place to jogging through
the intersection.
I don't think people walk enough today. No one uses sidewalks. I can
tell, because the driver doesn't even look before he turns right. I just
catch the movement out of the corner of my eye, and I can't move out of
the way. It's a big car, and my legs are only so long. Hey, Brutus. I
would have figured you'd run for your money. I feel a wet tongue against
my cheek, and I raise my hand to wave him off. Shouldn't be playing in
the street anyway. Hey, Brutus, you know where that's coming from? I
can't seem to tear my eyes away from my hand. It's red. It's red, and I
don't remember wearing gloves. Certainly not red gloves. No, not red
gloves. Nothing really hurts though, except my head.
I can't have a headache today, people are going to yell enough at the
staff meeting.
Lisa'll be worried. I should be on the way back. I can't get up though. I
can't get up and Brutus won't stop barking. Don't scare the natives,
Brutus. The sirens are making that whining sound, and I can't quite
figure it out. I mean, I'm not that heavy. I'm sure the driver's fine.
The sirens keep going, but now I can see paramedics running up. Brutus is
still barking but he doesn't bite anyone, so I'll have to compliment Lisa
on her training. I still think he could be trained to attack Republican's
though. They're hovering over me now, and I open my mouth to tell them
I'm fine, but I can't quite find the words. My mouth feels dry. Cotton.
My mouth feels like cotton.
I think they're moving me. I don't know. I can't feel anything. We're
getting in the ambulance. We can't leave. Who's going to take Brutus
home. "Brutus?" They exchange quizzical looks over my head. Hey,
quizzical, that's a good word. I should tell Diana to use that in a
speech. "Sir, is Brutus the dog?" I try to nod, but my head won't move.
The light's.... the light's..... I've got to get some rest if I want to
make it through the day. Before I drift off, I hear Brutus, barking from
the passenger seat.
King of the Mountain: Part 8
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