Nobody wanted to believe two former U.S. Presidents would really have a duel but nobody wanted to miss it either. Across the street from the TV station, in a city park, three camps formed almost instantaneously. TV trucks surrounded the area. Three dozen people talked through their microphones, megaphones and cell phones.
Neither JQA nor Polk had expected to have the duel immediately after the challenge, as more than half of dueling was about letting one or both men run away. Now that option didn’t exist. The amnesiac news channels didn’t know this though and assumed “pistols at dawn” meant right now.
All of the biggest news personalities were there, ready for the unprecedented live duel. There was Joshua Goode, Chip Brickwood, Jessyca Wynn, Russ Wolfgang, Sarah Mininianapolis, Abraham Bly, Barton Doe and the news director who had been in contact with Seph since “Fire, Shasta and A Dog Sneeze”: Tracy Swift. The channel’s slogan, “The Most Popular Names Are News” was completely lived up to.
In the sandwich shop across the street from the museum in North Town, Snow had seen the fight break out and the following duel challenge all on TV. Her first thought was regret; regret that she just consumed highly unusual mushrooms in a vain effort to escape impeding employment troubles. Her second thought was one of fear; fear that tripping ‘shrooms would hinder her ability to save everybody, including herself. She ran out of the sandwich shop, got into a taxi and gave the driver enough money to drive crazier than usual. If the cops arrest the presidents, Snow thought, I’m going to get blamed for all this somehow.
And while Snow would have been blamed for all this somehow, the police were a non-issue. The news producers hadn’t called anybody because the whole situation seemed too ridiculous. And the cops were too busy with a lot of money-laundering paperwork. Besides, two presidents wouldn’t shoot each other. That’s if they were even presidents. Since no TV science-expert jerk had been able to conclusively prove how JQA had traveled through time over the last two days, some people were becoming skeptical that this was even the real JQA. But wacky or not, true or not, it was good television and that was the point.
In the third corner of the city, Emmit unknowingly agreed with the news producers: this was exciting television. Though unlike the news people, Emmit wasn’t happy there would probably be three or four more commercial breaks before the actual duel. Lily suggested they try calling Seph again but Blair said she was convinced Seph knew what he was doing. In actuality, Blair had sent a text message to Seph.
-[Games over. Saw you on TV.]
-[Can this wait?]
Blair reinforced her calm charade by pointing out that they just saw him and Mitch hug on live television--which actually was quite touching, added Lily. Blair agreed. It was nice to see Seph show a little heart, and even though he only directly apologized to Mitch, it almost felt like he had apologized to all the friends. Blair never had a broken heart before, but now she was beginning to feel it split in half.
-[Can what wait?]
-[This fight.]
-[Is this a fight?]
Back at Jackson Park, Polk began to realize he didn’t like television people, so was thankful when Mitch pulled him away from some reporters. Panicked, confused and still a little high, Mitch, however, ended up asking the same question as the reporters: Mr. President, what are you doing?
-I’m trying to prove a point. Competition, whether it’s between countries or men, will never create the advancements possible with collaboration.
-But isn’t dueling a competition?
-Yes, but I hoping people will come together for it.
-No. They’re going to get blown apart.
Polk responded by looking at the battalion news people--each talking to at least one camera. So much confusion. Polk saw that everybody knew what was going on except himself. The president then opened his jacket and pulled out a loaded 1840s era percussion pistol and started wiping it with a rag.
-You’re going to die!
-Please. When Old Hickory is your mentor you learn how to fix a flint.
-Mister President, I didn’t understand any of that.
-I understand times change, but people like JQA need to be challenged. So if you want a reason for dueling, I’ll give you two. One, don’t compromise until you’ve fought. Two, it’s personal.
-But there are other ways!
-Like what?
-When people nowadays disagree, they do Rock, Paper, Scissors. Now this one time Don and I did Rock, Paper, Scissors but he waited until ‘shoot’ which is crazy because real guys don’t do ‘shoot,’ you throw down on Scissors--
-Mitch, I didn’t understand any of that.
About a hundred yards away, JQA and Seph sat on a bench under a tree. Seph had already mentioned his disapproval of dueling, but failed to influence the President. JQA pulled out a small 9mm handgun.
-So do you have any last words?
-Everybody has last words, but these aren’t mine.
-Great. You’re an optimistic dueler.
-Seph. Is this gun loaded? I can’t tell.
-Where the hell did you get that gun.
-Like you young man, I had quite the adventure before we met.
Seph looked across the field. He couldn’t hear Mitch but he was pretty sure Mitch was trying to talk down the other president when a new thought occurred, causing Seph to stand up and pace in front of JQA.
-It’ll be murder! You have a better gun than him.
-That’s his problem.
-If you kill him, all the cameras and people will disappear.
-I’m sorry, Seph, but I don’t think they will. I’m beginning to understand this world.
-I’ve lived in this world almost thirty years longer than you and I don’t understand it.
-That’s your problem.
-You’ll be destroying our history. He needs to go back in time, and maybe you do to.
-Fine. I’ll shoot him in the arm. Maybe both.
Seph and JQA watched Polk walk away from Mitch and towards them. Just when Seph and Mitch hoped this was a gesture of peace, Polk stopped and pulled out his gun. Seph sat back down. All the news cameras turned to Polk. The commentators, directors, anchors and reporters went as quiet as a broken television.
Polk, standing near the middle of the small clearing in the city park, looked at the sky. Near noon. Polk didn’t consider himself a religious man, but did consider himself a moral man. At this moment he prayed to whatever higher power would answer him that he was doing the right thing. Were his actions in self-defense? He hoped so. It was then that he noticed what he first thought was a piece of trash trapped in the branches of the nearest tree. Except it wasn’t trash, he realized. It was part of a bird’s nest. The bird wasn’t present, but Polk didn’t think the nest was abandoned. He took this as a sign that everything would be okay.
JQA rose from the bench. Seph offered one last argument.
-You think we could’ve landed on the moon if people still dueled each other?
The president pause for a moment.
-Oh? We got to the moon? That’s nice.
JQA methodically walked out of the shade and to Polk. They stood thirty feet away from each other. Seph moved away from directly behind JQA. Seeing this, Mitch mirrored him and moved away from the line of fire. Even being the closest to the presidents, the boys couldn’t hear the older men speak to one another.
-I’m sorry, Mister President.
-I know.
The presidents raised their guns at the exact same time but only one tried to the pull the trigger. (Un)fortunately it was the trigger with a safety lock. Everybody looked at each other, stunned by the unexpected silence. JQA inspected the gun, embarrassed. Polk lowered his gun, relieved. Seph and Mitch looked at each other, thankful.
-Oh wait. There. Now I got it.
With those words, President John Quincy Adams raised his gun and shot President James K. Polk.
No comments:
Post a Comment