I Tried to Tell the Stubborn Bastards

I jabbed a finger into the pile of printed probability charts I spent all night preparing. I tucked that one dark curl behind my ear; the one that never stayed in the updo.

“Look, Gary. He’s done this before. I’m telling you it’s a pattern.”

Gary was shaking his head before I was finished. “And I’m telling you that it’s not. Your speculation on the house getting bombed was an educated guess, not a prediction. The General lost his whole family. Cut the man a little break.” He scowled at the sip of cool coffee.

I pinched the bridge of my nose under my purple rectangular glasses. “I fail to see how you aren’t seeing the pattern.” I started ticking off on my fingers. “He sends a prized stud bull to the chief of the Karaten. A week later, their entire herd is wiped out by an unidentifiable parasite. The CDC, WHO, neither had seen it before. He kisses the Ghanian Ambassador on the cheek at a state dinner and apologized when she was insulted. You can’t tell me he wasn’t briefed on protocols and security before attending. Three days later to the minute, she has a heart attack, keels right over in her salad. She was 33, Gary.”

Gary raised a hand and interrupted. “You can’t seriously be blaming a heart murmur on someone from another country.”

“A country we’ve never known to have a military leader, or even much of a military at all! One day, we just hear about some ‘peaceful coup’ there when we didn’t have one shred of intelligence anything was happening? He also decides ‘last minute’ to attend a conference in La Madeleine and his villa gets bombed not six hours later. While he’s conveniently not in it with the wife who disagreed with some of his new laws during last month’s TV interview. There’s more, Gary, I promise you it’s in the numbers!” I could see his eyes dull as I tried.

Gary pushed the papers back at me and scowled. He’d get wrinkles if he kept that up. “No. Just no. Give it a rest. And especially give it a rest when the Assistant Director is around.” He sat back and wiped his face with one hand. “Look, no one is perfect. I’ll give you that. But the AD thinks the General is some kind of deus ex machina to the smaller surrounding countries. Look at the high crop yield in the south after he gave them GMO disease-resistant seeds. That was a miracle to those farmers in Larastav. Creating some conspiracy theory out of the poor man’s run of shitty luck isn’t gonna win you promotion points. I’m telling you to stop. And to be at the dedication.”

The dedication… The General was due to give our country a statue. He claimed it was designed by his country’s best artists and made by an extremely talented bronze worker. Only concept art was revealed ahead of time. Not a single photo of the fabrication process existed. The drawing showed a giant book whose cover opened and closed, alternating every hour. The speech they aired live was choking with platitudes about our alliance being an “open book” between two great nations. The left page had an etched poem glorifying knowledge and strength. The facing page was supposedly the same thing in the General’s language. We only had the word of their translator for that. The huge shipping crate sat on the front lawn all night, lit with spotlights and patrolled by hand-picked MPs with hungry German Shepherds by their sides. A barrier of tall curtained panels encircled it in the dawn’s light and power tools droned while the shipping crate was dismantled. Personnel were likely setting up chairs while I argued with Gary.

I gathered the papers into my arms. “My calculations point to something big, Gary. I just don’t want anything to blow up in our faces while we deal with him. I really don’t think it’s a good idea if I attend-”

Gary’s hand sliced through the air, the gesture cutting off my words.. “I am past caring what you think! The department is showing support for the AD and the Vice President, and you will be there. We all will. Nothing comes out of your mouth but a smile, maybe a ‘Good afternoon’, got it?”

My lips pressed together as if glued shut, and I nodded.

“Good. Now go relax for a few minutes. Maybe fix your hair.”

That would sound sexist from anyone but Gary. If Gary said it, though, he was only stating the obvious. At least he hadn’t mentioned the dark circles under my eyes; the concealer must still be doing its job. I strode away, my heels silent on the company carpet as I clutched my calculations to my chest. There must be some way to convince him.

I froze, a news ticker scrolled across the bottom of my mind. The helicopter that carried him from the hotel to the agency three days ago crashed on its second lift-off the next day. Mechanical error, they claimed, but the pilot was mangled. I hadn’t factored that in. I needed to re-run these graphs STAT.

#

Jen was already gone from her desk as I burst through the door. The clock told me I had 30 minutes max to come up with believable numbers. I pulled up the computational program before my rear even hit my office chair.

I was just a few minutes shy of the half hour mark when the outer door opened. I saw two blurry figures in blue and red through the translucent glass as they stopped near Jen’s desk. Jen pulled open a drawer, the one where she usually kept her fake Burberry purse.

“She was carrying papers, dunno what of, and looked like she barely remembered to put her hair up this morning. No eyeliner, no necklace, same pearl earrings for a week now. I’m sure Gary’s gonna give her the shape up chat pretty soon here.”

The other figure humphed. “The General is some kinda bad luck charm? I mean, what was she thinking? He’s only the likeliest candidate for ‘Man of the Year’ this fall.”

“I know.” The drawer shut and Jen’s voice lowered a little. “She hasn’t really been… with it since the attack back in January. She kinda threw herself back into work and maybe that wasn’t the best choice.”

They both headed for the door. “Has she seen anyone about it? Like, a psych or some other professional?”

“I dunno. At least, she hasn’t put anything on the calendar I can see.”

Jen and her friend’s voices faded as they left the office. I stared at the door for a moment. They didn’t understand. You can’t understand if you hadn’t experienced- that. You can’t be seen as weak, can’t let them down. I just can’t.

My phone buzzed on my desk. When I swiped the screen, Gary’s text conveyed his annoyance perfectly. “Starting to be seated. Get down here NOW.” I sighed, pushing my chair back. My finger hovered over the Lock Screen button, but didn’t descend. Was I seeing that right? That calculation meant… I typed a translation into our analysis form. That- That result isn’t possible. That’s not real.

I have never switched to sneakers so fast in my life. I sent up a random prayer of thanks that they had Velcro fasteners. The door nearly came off the hinges as I swung around and pounded down the hall to the elevator. I knew stabbing the button repeatedly didn’t make it move faster, but my heart was quickly becoming a race horse. Right as I was about to opt for the three floors of stairs, it opened. I counted myself lucky I only hit the first floor button heading in. I bounced on my toes and watched the red LED count down.

I didn’t count myself so lucky when I heard the screaming start right before the elevator doors opened. People exploded from the stairwell, crowding the exit doors of the lobby along with interviewees, the receptionist, and Bob, our security guard. People from outside were bottle-necking the “Enter” doors and mixing like two opposing rivers crashing in a delta. One surging wave pressed me against the wall. I stumbled and righted myself as the clot of people passed. I just know I was slack jawed at the chaos. I heard my name, but just blinked. I heard it again and saw Gary headed across the tide towards me. His tie askew, grass in his hair, and holding his left upper arm with his right hand. His left arm ended just below the elbow, red and charred, the edge of his button-up’s sleeve smoking as red light beams sizzled through the air outside.

Panic finally hit my lizard brain and I spun, leaping toward a side hall that led to the back parking lot. I was right. I was right all along, and I was not going to face what my numbers revealed. What my prediction revealed was as gray as my face. I heard Gary’s voice one last time. “Cassie! Cassandra, wait! You were right!”