One Blood

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Flying over Baton Rouge en route to Lake City

Randy looked down on the Capitol building from the air, numb all over. He couldn’t get Malcolm Wright’s death mask out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. To top it off, Larry was also M.I.A, which had to mean he was in cahoots with Snake. Everything was coming undone and the blank spots in his memory were driving him mad. Even through his bout with brain cancer, he’d managed to fully maintain his mental faculties. What had happened at the prison was eerily reminiscent of another time he’d blacked out.  

“Governor? Governor. Are you listening to me?”

Randy blinked hard. He stared down at the starfish-shaped speakerphone in the middle of the console. Several key members of his staff were on the line for one massive conference call—his Assistant Chief of Staff, the Chief of Homeland Security, and the Public Safety, Social Services, Transportation, and Development Chairs, as well as the mayors of Lake City, Lafayette, and Baton Rouge.

“This is unacceptable, Governor,” the voice of Lake City’s mayor yelped at him through the speaker. Randy calmly reached toward the speakerphone and pressed a button to unmute the phone.

“I’ll tell you what’s unacceptable, Mayor Robiceaux,” Randy began. “I’ve been hearing about the mess you’re making over there. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times—you’re a goddamned Mayor! In times of crisis, you have the power and authority to make decisions under the Pelican Ordinance. You don’t need to hear from this office. All of you have been sitting around twiddling your thumbs for two days now. Two goddamn days! That’s forty-eight hours we’ve lost where a significant number of citizens could have been evacuated.”

“Governor, that’s not completely accurate—”

“Listen to me, goddamnit! This situation has reached a crisis point and I, for one, am tired of your excuses. As of this moment, all of your authority and power returns to this office. You’ve lost your chance to do something. I’m giving the orders now. But rest assured, the blame for this calamity—and trust me, we’re talking about a calamity of biblical proportions here, will rest squarely on each of your shoulders!”

Several voices chimed in at once. “What do we do now?”

“Either get on the road to higher ground with your constituents, or learn how to swim. That’s all.” Randy pushed the disconnect button and sat back in his seat. A thin line of spittle rolled down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. He may have lost control of his personal situation, but he was still the boss around here.

The speakerphone rang twice before he picked it up.

“Sir,” a voice he recognized as his Chair of Transportation ventured. “Sir, what just happened?”

“In France, I believe it’s known as a cluster-fuck. Now please excuse me.” Randy hung up again. Tightness in his chest and shortness of breath assaulted him. Randy had friends who’d suffered heart attacks. They’d described the onset as a little guy in your back playing the accordion with your lungs and heart. That sounded about right.

The helicopter cabin was collapsing. His hands were clammy. His tie was a python around his throat and he couldn’t catch his breath.

He banged on the divider between him and the pilot in a panic. The pilot needed to land so he could get out of this chopper before it was too late. His heart thudded in his ears. He was seeing everything through a reddish glaze.

Why isn't the pilot responding?  

Randy fell over, staring helplessly at the pilot’s cabin. The pilot wasn’t alone. Another man sat beside him.

Randy looked up into a long-forgotten face. The old man wore a straw hat slightly cocked back on his forehead. Randy blinked.

The dead man was still staring at him.

James Diaz smiled at Randy. “Won’t be long before you join me, Governor. Payback’s a comin’ for the raw deal you gave me…”