The Party: Chapter 17 – Andy McGuire, Flash Fiction Friday Post

Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual
and racist slurs and comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse,
and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 17: Andy McGuire

Andy sat in the row along the wall behind his boss,
Duncan Angelson. Andy had a lapful of files, all color tabbed and memorized.
He’d read the entire pile, of course. He had no idea what his job, Special
Assistant to the President and Director of the Office of the Chief of Staff,
was before the President for Life, but now, it seemed to him, to be nothing but
a go-fer for Duncan.

He tried to focus on the current speaker, Joe Evans.
Not that he was interested but because if Duncan raised his hand over the top
of his leather high-topped chair, Andy had better have the file that pertained
to whatever the current blow-hard speaker was talking about.

The meeting had begun half an hour ago and to Andy, it
was overkill. Hadn’t The Party already contained any possible interference?
Thousands had already been rounded up, killed, detained, children sent to
camps. There he caught a breath. Camps. What had some of the World War Two Jewish
survivors said about camps? They’d been stunned by the term. “Camps!” They’d
said. “You think these were summer camps where we swam and hiked?” They were
outraged.

Andy had to agree. He knew entirely too much about
camps. This isn’t what his college classes had prepared him for. He managed to
check into Joe Evans interminable speech. Nothing yet. The blow-hard was still
pontificating on how he and his organization deserved credit for the current
state of affairs. As though the Sons of America white supremacy organization
was the be all and end all of political high-ground.

Andy wished he had the spine to record this crap.
Someday, he thought. Then quashed the idea. No. Not the country he’d grown up
with. Damn his father, shoving him into this hell hole. But that’s what it was
now. Sons—shoved into opportune positions to further the family fortunes. He
tried to clear his throat of the bile, but quietly. No need to draw attention
to himself.

He envied his sister, kept at home, though he knew
full well that she chafed under the confinement. Safer for her, he thought. At
least she’s not in this mess. But he knew she’d disagree.

He focused. What had Evans said? Oh, yes. Duncan had
his hand up. Andy pulled the file and passed it up. Numbers on Jews rounded up.
Dim wit, Andy thought. Bankers, stockbrokers, docs, lawyers, judges, social
workers, it was endless. The Jews were everywhere and were the glue holding the
whole country together. What were Joe’s people thinking? It was obvious to him
but the rest? Nope. Just shoving their heads in the sand.

It didn’t matter. The whole thing was water under the
bridge. There were no more independent judges or lawyers, doctors or social
workers. Everything was now about the Party. There would be no dissent. There
would be no others. Andy sighed. The numbers were rolling in. Production was
down. Mental health issues, as far as the Party tracked them, were up. There
weren’t enough people to do the work in farms or factories or even in fast food
places.

Joe Evans sat down. The next person, some professor of
what and which that Andy didn’t catch, stood. He chanted on about the
rebalancing of socio-economic status. As though no one recognized the
euphemisms. Andy understood. They were going to start to transition the
enslaved population into the subservient roles in society. Slave labor, though
he already knew that was happening.

Then, Andy perked up. The sad-sack professor began
talking about women. Not just baby-makers, he said. Servants. Nannies,
housekeepers, more. Andy’s thoughts flashed to his sister. She’d stab someone’s
eyes out with a pencil before she’d submit to this crap. He feared, for the
first time in this whole nightmare. CarrieAnn would die before she’d put up
with this crap. His hands began to sweat.

The Doctor sat down and Andy tried to breathe. Can’t
happen, Andy thought. Cannot happen. Then the Director of Homeland Security
stood up. “We’ve found a pocket of dissidents,” he told the room. Andy paid
attention even though he didn’t have any files that pertained to that topic.

“It’s been a difficult road,” the Director said.
“Here’s the near end. After much surveillance, we’ve found what we think is the
center of the resistance.” A map flashed up on the end wall behind the
Director. “Look here.” He walked back to the projection and pointed at a map of
West Virginia. “A small town, apparently a hot bed. We’ve been slowly
extricating the loyalists from the town. We’re now ready to move.”

A new slide appeared on the wall. “We have three
divisions of the Army surrounding the town and one company of the Immaculata at
strategic points. We’re going to hit in twenty-four hours. The entire town will
be obliterated. The resistance will be sorely injured.”

The room erupted in clapping. Andy’s stomach rolled.
The town was his sister’s college town. She had friends were there—favorite
teachers. Duncan turned and gave Andy a look. Andy’s half effort to rise
failed. He sank the two inches back into his chair and Duncan turned back to
the table. What would CarrieAnn think of him? He clasped the files to his chest
and closed his eyes in an effort not to see the glee on the faces of the people
supposedly superior to him.

The meeting finally closed, and Andy followed Duncan
from the room. They had to stop every few feet to shake a hand or trade a quip.
Nothing to do with him, he thanked his lucky stars. He was in no shape to be
social.

Duncan waited until they were back in his office.
“What the hell, Andy!”

“Sorry, boss.”

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t want to bring your father
into this.”

“No, Sir. Won’t be necessary.”

“Better not be. Get out of here.”

Andy scurried out. It took eighteen minutes in the
bathroom to get his emotions under control.

Thank you for reading.