The Controversial Story

 

The Controversial Story

 

On her thin, elongated neck, the carnelian-drop necklace looked like raw blood dripping in clots. The metal tips on the ends of the pencil-thin stiletto heels of her silver leather boots clacked along on the stone floor. Her demeanor was one of relaxed confidence as she walked at a relatively normal speed down the gum-stained sidewalk, but her hands gave her away. They were balled into fists as tight as they could when clutching the thin folder in which the precious, one of a kind document was hidden.

Another pair of rattly feet in black leather shoes with metal soles echoed behind her, tracing footsteps into the cement. She looked back at him. He was at least six and a half feet tall, and heavy, probably weighing at least 280 pounds. His eyes were solid black, and very flat, showing only one emotion – anticipation. His hair, slicked back with heavy gel, glinted in the setting sun, and his mouth, with thin, blood-red lips, was curled into a smirk.

His legs were longer. She broke into a run, skidding slightly as she changed direction, rounding the corner. He veered after her, the silver undersides of his shoes shrieking on the sidewalk, lacerating the cement. She shuddered involuntarily at the unearthly noise, but steadied herself and kept moving. She had to get this story to the press. If that man got it... she would never remember all of the references and proof, and if the President had really done what it said, it had to get out. This was what her dream had been for the past five years, ever since 2001, when the World Trade Center had collapsed. She didn't doubt that Bush would do such a thing for a minute. She was a devout Democrat. She had voted for Al Gore and John Kerry. Fat lot of good it had done.

He probably works for Bush, she realized, and walked faster. Yes, of course he worked for

Bush. He was probably a spy at the company where she found the story. She had been on her way to an interview when she noticed the story on an unattended computer screen, and she hadn't been able to resist taking it to her publisher. She was sure that, after this, Bob and the other bosses would be happier with her. They couldn't lay her off now, not if they wanted the juiciest story since Watergate. Could they?

She was running flat out now, at least as fast as she could go with miniature daggers sticking out from her heels. She debated taking them off, comparing the time she would lose in the process with the time lost at her current pace. Deciding, she took two seconds to pull off a shoe, then another two seconds for the other, tossing them into a deciduous bush that was losing its orange leaves and crossing the street diagonally in a vain attempt at losing her pursuant.

“D****t, lady, get back here!” the latter yelled in frustration. “Those papers can't get out –”

She ignored him, concentrating on getting to the crowded newspaper office where she was sure she could get away long enough to give the article to her boss. In her peripheral vision, she saw the man stop a moving bicycle, shove the rider off callously, and hop on. She began to panic. Her hand slipped, sweaty, and revealed the title and first lines of the article. She glanced down long enough to move her hand back over it, and saw the words that had been running through her head for the past twenty minutes:

BUSH: Did He Buy the War?

Though the possibility that our president, considered a paladin in some

circles and a horrible leader in many others, could have placed bombs

in the World Trade Center and bribed the men of al-Qaeda to attack us

in order to provoke a war, had been talked about since 9/11, they

had not been proven until now.

Her hand securely over the headline once more, the woman, distracted again by the horrible truth of these words, slowed down ever so slightly, her bare feet slapping the sidewalk in a rhythmic jog. Before she could realize the outcome this would have, the man caught up to her on his stolen bicycle. Grabbing the back of her blazer, he used his immense muscles to pull her off of the ground as he stopped the bike, then turned and slammed her into the nearest park bench.

“What the hell do you think you're doing with that story?” he demanded. His voice had a brazen quality that hurt her ears. Rivulets of sweat streaked down his shaved face after his long pursuit. He gripped her arm firmly. She quaked with fear inwardly at the thought of what he could do to her, but put a determined expression on her flushed face and tilted her chin up.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” She flinched as he rolled his eyes. Now that he was in control, he was prepared to be a bit more disdainful than angry.

“That paper is not your business. Give it to me now, it isn't ready to be out –”

“Don't even try that. I'm sure you'll just run it along back to Bush, won't you?” She stood and glared at him in accusatory silence, and saw his face tweak with an unexpected expression – surprise. She wondered why he didn't look angry, at the very least, of even abashed.

“Ha! As if. I hate Bush as much as you do. More than you do.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged disparagingly, raising her eyebrows. “Then why did you follow me? Wanted to keep the glory? Because America decides to know the truth –” He covered her mouth. His face smelled like saliva from pushing the unfortunate man off of his bike. She thrusted it away.

“Exactly. America deserves to know the truth. That's what I've been thinking about recently. The truth.” She looked blankly at him. “Sit.” he forced her down again.

“The company I work for –”

“Shut up. We're talking about the company I work for.” He sighed, and stopped talking. She waited. “OK. Well, we hate Bush. Obviously. We have been working to discredit him ever since he took office again. This story –” He stopped again. He seemed like a teenage girl on the verge of disclosing some verboten bit of gossip. “This story is my work from the past year. It'ss not finished yet, I haven't fabricated enough evidence for it to be completely foolproof.” He rolled his eyes again at the uncomprehending expression still on her face. “You aren't too quick, are you? It's a fake. It isn't the truth that America deserves.”

 

Reviews

[deeps]

BUSH: Did He Buy the War?T
hough the possibility that our president,
considered a paladin in somecircles and a horrible leader in many others,
could have placed bombsin the World Trade Center
and bribed the men of al-Qaeda to attack usin order to provoke a war,
had been talked about since 9/11, theyhad not been proven until now.

WOW! Most amazing paragraph here
I liekd this alot, You are a wonderful and powerful writer.
This is amazing, really it is.
I will have to read more by you.