Death of the Republic Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1 4

  CHAPTER 2 7

  CHAPTER 3 9

  CHAPTER 4 13

  CHAPTER 5 16

  CHAPTER 6 19

  CHAPTER 7 23

  CHAPTER 8 27

  CHAPTER 9 29

  CHAPTER 10 32

  CHAPTER 11 36

  CHAPTER 12 38

  CHAPTER 13 41

  CHAPTER 14 44

  CHAPTER 15 47

  CHAPTER 16 50

  CHAPTER 17 53

  CHAPTER 18 57

  CHAPTER 19 60

  CHAPTER 20 63

  CHAPTER 21 65

  CHAPTER 22 68

  CHAPTER 23 71

  CHAPTER 24 74

  CHAPTER 25 76

  CHAPTER 26 78

  CHAPTER 27 80

  CHAPTER 28 82

  CHAPTER 29 85

  CHAPTER 30 88

  OTHER BOOKS BY KEN WARD: 90

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR 91

  Death of the Republic

  by Ken Ward

  Copyright 2018. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For Melissa,

  CHAPTER 1

  You: they won't let me on this flight

  Kathy: huh? why?

  You: i don't know...they're saying it's full

  Kathy: but u already have ur ticket

  You: yeah

  Kathy: wtf

  You: gotta talk to a supervisor i guess

  Kathy: lemme know how it goes

  You: k

  Flight 381, Boston to Miami. That was my flight. Or it was supposed to be. I'd booked it months in advance because my boss had told me he wanted me at the Marketing 2020 conference this year and I was eager to go and maybe help myself climb up the corporate ladder. I worked at Millennia Advertising Solutions. We were a mid-size marketing firm with a solid list of blue chip companies on our client roster. As a junior account executive, I had a chance to sit in on some fairly high level campaigns and I knew from that exposure that most of the people above me at our company made a lot of great networking connections at the M2020 Conference early in their careers. It also didn't hurt that the conference was in sunny Florida. Boston in November is usually gray and depressing, so when my boss came to me way back in March and said he wanted me to go to Miami this year – I jumped at the chance.

  “Sir, we understand your frustration,” the supervisor with RepublicAir said to me from the opposite side of the customer service desk. Does anyone in customer service actually understand your frustration regardless of the situation? I doubted it as I stood at the desk holding my overnight bag.

  I pulled a square of tissue out of my jeans pocket and blew my nose. I didn't know if it was the stale airport air or what it was, but I'd become pretty stuffed up ever since I'd left work to catch my flight. I stuffed the tissue away and looked squarely at the bespectacled man. “The thing is,” I said, “I really need to catch this flight. I have to be at a conference tomorrow. The next flight isn't until 5AM tomorrow morning. That won't work for me.”

  The man nodded the entire time I spoke. I wasn't sure anything I was saying was actually registering with him. “Again,” he said, “we understand.”

  “I know you keep saying you understand.” I sneezed mid-sentence. I made sure to cover my mouth by sneezing into the inside of my elbow, a tip I'd learned from years spent working as a barista through college. “But I really just want to get on the flight that I'd already booked and paid for.”

  “I hear you,” he said, “but sir, the flight is full.”

  “Yes, but I booked my ticket months ago.”

  “Well, unfortunately, we've had to bump a few passengers.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We have an overabundance of passengers for this flight.”

  An overabundance of passengers? This was new to me. I'd never heard of such a thing. The man looked at me like I was an insect. It was as though he pitied me and yet also saw me as something lesser. To make matters worse a long line of people had formed behind me. The lady at the front of that line looked pretty angry that I was monopolizing this supervisor's time. But what was I supposed to do? I had to catch this flight. “What does an overabundance mean?”

  “Sir, the flight has more passengers booked than there are seats on the plane. Unfortunately, we've had to remove some of those passengers.”

  “Including me.”

  “Unfortunately, sir, this is what we've had to do. We're very sorry.”

  As you can imagine, his tone expressed anything but actual remorse. “This is unacceptable,” I said. “I've paid for this flight. I booked it way back in the spring. You can check your system if you don't believe me.”

  “Come on already,” said the woman behind me. “Other people need to speak with him too.”

  I ignored her. My nose began to run, again I reached for a tissue. The supervisor began typing furiously on the keyboard in front of him. He let out a loud, annoyed sigh and he glared at a monitor beneath him that I couldn't see from my side of the counter. I stood there for a good thirty seconds while the man typed away. I could hear the people behind me grumbling. I'm pretty sure I heard the words “selfish” and “asshole” spoken by a few different voices. The airport has to be one of the worst places in the world, I remember thinking. Finally, I broke the silence while the man's fingers worked the keys feverishly. “Is there someone else I should be talking to? Someone above you?”

  He held up his index finger and said nothing to me. He grabbed the phone receiver beside him and pressed a button on his phone. He turned away from me slightly and over the din of the crowded airport I could hear his voice speaking into the phone but I had no idea what he was saying. I made the mistake of glancing behind me and noticed the woman behind me had moved closer toward me and was standing in an aggressive posture, a scowl on her face and with her arms tightly folded. If body language were a weapon I'd have been ground zero for nuclear winter. It was about this point I could feel my throat tightening and my head started to throb. Just what you need when traveling, a headache, a sore throat and a stuffy nose. I turned my attention back across the desk as the supervisor snapped the phone receiver back in its place. He made no attempt at eye contact with me, but instead stared at the computer monitor below him. “Okay,” he said, sounding exhausted, “here's what we can do. We can get you on this flight it looks like.”

  “Thank you,” I said. As crappy as I'd begun to feel, a warm surge of relief washed over me. “Thank you so much.”

  “But,” he said, “seeing as we'd originally had you bumped and now had to reverse that in our system, you won't be able to claim any reward points for this flight.”

  “That's fine,” I said, “I don't care about that.”

  “Also, it looks like you'd already done your pre-boarding check-in, and unfortunately the seat you've selected is no longer available. You'd booked a seat in an emergency exit row on the aisle, right? For the extra leg room?”

  “Yes, that's right.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately, we've had to move you to a middle seat, at the back.”

  Of course you did, you passive aggressive prick, I thought. “Fine,” I said. “I don't care. I'm just glad to get on the plane.”

  “Mm-hmm,” he uttered condescendingly while handing me my new boarding pass, “enjoy your flight.”

  I grabbed the pass and could feel my body completely enveloped in a cold sweat as I left the counter. I didn't bother looking back to see the reaction of the angry mob that had wa
ited behind me as they all moved up with me out of the way. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of acknowledging their frustration. I still had another hour-and-a-half before my flight. As I walked to my gate my muscles in my legs began to ache. Obviously, I'd picked up a bug and it was taking over my body and fast. Once at my gate I sat on one of the padded chairs and held my head in my hands trying to shake off my pounding headache. I blew my nose again, this time filling the tissue. Gross. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

  Kathy: hello? what happened?

  You: just got done with supervisor...got on the flight

  Kathy: awesome! when you leave?

  You: not soon enough lol

  CHAPTER 2

  Could they have been using the air conditioning inside the airport? In Boston? In November? I remember asking these questions inside my head. As the departure time for Flight 381 drew closer and closer, I began feeling colder and colder. I had legitimate chills flowing through me. I began to shake and it made me feel self-conscious because I was worried other people sitting around me might notice and think something was seriously wrong with me. I suppose I shouldn't have cared what other people thought, but that isn't me, never has been and so I did my best to cover up my tremors by constantly shifting around in my seat as though I was just trying to get comfortable. I had no idea if it was working or not. Soon, my scratchy throat led to a dry cough that sent a stabbing pain through my chest every time I heaved into my elbow. With every sneeze I could feel eyes on me. Certainly there were people probably judging me and hoping they weren't the unlucky ones forced to sit beside me on the flight. Really? I remember thinking. I had to be getting sick right now? When I'm this close to attending a super-important conference that could make or break my career?

  You: ugh i feel horrible

  Kathy: really? whats wrong?

  You: i dunno, a cold maybe...pretty stuffed up...sore throat, coughing, sneezing, cold sweats, my legs are aching, got a headache too

  Kathy: you sound hawt

  You: lol

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” a woman's voice sounded over the loudspeaker at our gate. “This is a pre-boarding announcement for RepublicAir Flight 381 destined for Miami. We will begin boarding procedures in twenty minutes time. Those of you requiring the use of a wheelchair, traveling with small children or otherwise require extra time boarding, please check in with us at the desk prior to boarding procedures. The weather in Miami is favorable, and the flight will be departing on-time. Thank you.” As the message was repeated in Spanish, I stood up from my seat and walked toward the convenience store across the terminal from where I'd been sitting. I had to find something to try and relieve the pain in my throat and my head.

  You: buying lozenges...they're 6.99!!!

  Kathy: whoa

  You: a small thing of ibuprofen...11.99...like, are they for real?

  Kathy: thats the airport for you

  What could I do? They had a captive audience, for lack of a better term. I was past security in an airport and this store and others like it in the terminal were the only options I had. Of course these businesses knew it and so they could charge an arm and a leg for things like throat lozenges and headache suppressants. The moral of the story is, don't get sick when you're traveling. Funny thing was, I felt fine on the drive to the airport, it was just terrible luck that I started getting sick as I made my way toward boarding my flight.

  You: i feel like total crap

  Kathy: poor baby :(

  You: i need some sympathy

  Kathy: sending you something rite now

  You: i can feel the vibes :)

  Slipping a lozenge into my mouth, I walked back to my gate and noticed the seat I had been in was taken. I'd decided to sit farther away from the gate. I had a feeling I was starting to look just as bad as I felt. My skin was cold and clammy. I didn't want to bring any attention on myself. My height was enough of a problem. I'd never considered myself super-tall, but I was enough above average at six-four that people usually noticed when I'd enter a room. I hated it. People would always comment how lucky I was to be so tall, but I'd always wished I was shorter and closer to average height, thus not drawing any attention at all. My friends and family made fun of me whenever I'd mention that I'd wished I was shorter, but I guess we always want what we cannot have. There were plenty of shorter than average people in the world who thought I was living in tall-person paradise and gladly would've switched spots with me. One thing's for sure, sitting in that airport terminal, I would've gladly switched bodies with pretty much anyone around me. I'd started feeling like death warmed over. Maybe Miami's beautiful climate was going to be just what the doctor ordered.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the pleasing voice returned once again over our gate's loudspeaker. “Welcome to RepublicAir Flight 381. We will begin boarding procedures at this time. This is our first call. Those of you requiring extra assistance, traveling by wheelchair, or with small children we would ask that you make your way to the gate first. Once again, this is our pre-boarding call. We will begin general boarding shortly. Thank you.”

  I stood up and felt sweat soaking through my shirt on my lower back. The aches I'd felt in my leg muscles had spread throughout my entire body.

  You: about to board

  Kathy: kewl

  You: my whole body hurts

  Kathy: that sucks babe

  You: i know...maybe Miami is the cure

  Kathy: cant hurt rite?

  You: wish you were coming with

  Kathy: me too! :(

  You: like im seriously feeling like death...head is pounding...sweating a lot

  Kathy: the worst timing too

  You: so true...bad luck...k about to board...love you

  Kathy: love you 2 xoxo try to sleep k?

  You: i'll try...xoxox

  I walked toward the gate feeling as though I was hovering above the floor. My vision was blurred. Swallowing made my throat hurt so bad I tried hard not to do it and so I constantly had a pool of saliva in my mouth. I was running out of unused tissues I could use to blow my nose. This was the worst I'd felt in a long time. As I approached the desk in front of the gate I held out my boarding pass for the attendant to see. She reluctantly took the pass from my hand to have a look and she furrowed her brow as she glanced at me up and down.

  “You don't look so good,” she said.

  “Yeah, I'm not feeling the best.”

  “Never a good idea to travel when you're ill,” she said it in the tone of a teacher admonishing her student. Like, give me a break lady, I didn't choose to become sick all of a sudden.

  “I know,” I said, “it just hit me now.”

  “Well,” she said, handing me back my pass, “try and enjoy your flight.”

  At this point I realized that was likely going to be an impossible task.

  CHAPTER 3

  The walkway down from the gate doors to the plane was crowded and slow-moving. I muffled my sneezes into my arm and noticed a few glances my way from the people huddled together waiting to board the plane. I had my small suitcase with me. It was the size of a carry-on. A travel tip I'd always remembered was to travel light and if you could only pack one bag and make sure it was small enough to bring on the plane with you as a carry-on. You never lose luggage that way. It was a tip I took to heart and always followed. A tickle rose up in the back of my throat. My eyes watered as I swallowed again and again trying to avoid breaking into a coughing fit while is such close proximity to so many people.

  Pretty much everyone around me had their heads buried in their smart phones. That day was a special day. A new app had been announced months before from CloranaTech that had the entire world waiting with baited breath for its arrival. The app, called Clackzi, was heralded as a technological leap into the world of machine learning, artificial intelligence and the 'Internet of Things'. Most of my co-workers had been chatting about it since the previous May when its development was announced at one of those splashy press conferen
ces where CloranaTech's CEO, Solomon Gwent comes out in in a kimono and runs down what makes Clackzi so special. Basically the app was designed to take over and organize your networking devices for you based on everything you read, watch or consume. It was meant as the 'ultimate customization', to borrow that term from the ego-maniac, Gwent. Clackzi, the world was told at that press conference, would shape your interactions with the internet and the world around you by learning everything about you and everyone and everything you interact with online. The app would then use all of that learned information to make your phone, laptop, TV, car, fridge, stove, whatever was connected to the internet, much more specifically yours, customized to your preferences and all of that without you having to lift a finger and play with settings.

  Usually I'm more of a curmudgeon when it comes to these things. More content to sit back and play the devil's advocate. But I had to admit, after watching the youtube video one of my colleagues had insisted I watch at my desk the day of the Gwent press conference, I was pretty excited about the advent of Clackzi. It felt as though the future had arrived. Cut to me standing on the walkway waiting to board my flight and the world had turned into a bunch of walking zombies all trying to download the Clackzi app at the same time to their smart phones. The app had officially released ten minutes before our boarding announcement.

  You: hey just waiting to board, still feeling like crap, trying not to let on...everyone around me looks like theyre trying to d'load clackzi

  Kathy: sorry you feelin so crappy babe

  Kathy: yeah clackzi, trying to download it right now, slow, everyone at work doing the same, crazy

  Eventually we'd managed to shuffle along to reach the door to the plane. I glanced briefly at one of the flight attendants standing at the door greeting passengers with a smile. I nodded 'hello' and noticed the other two flight attendants standing close by both were preoccupied with their phones. The entire world had lost its mind for this app. I just wanted to get to my seat so I could start downloading it before the flight crew would inevitably come along and tell me to turn my phone off during departure.