Dawn of the Unthinkable by James Concannon

came from a tree that had been standing for
a hundred years, you’re a murderer the same as any in prison,
you….” The rest was cut off as she was dragged away.
    “Looks like you got sapped, Senator,” one of
the security cops said, trying to keep the laughter out of his
voice. Kincaid was not one of the better-liked senators on the
floor, and now that the cops could see that he was not hurt, they
were a bit amused at his predicament. Of course, their supervisor
would be up their ass to find out how this twit was able to get
close enough to do this, but hey, if the senators wanted to press
the flesh with their constituents, they had to take some risks.
They all remembered when that nut came up and punched Senator John
Glenn on the jaw right while he has talking on TV!
    Kincaid now was wiping at the mess with his
hanky. It had mostly landed in his hair, which instead of its usual
towering height, was matted down on one side. It was also running
down his cheek, and was sticky as hell. The hanky was not doing a
good job of getting it off, and he realized he must look terrible.
He got to his feet and tried to stammer an apology to the page, who
was readjusting her clothes surrounded by sympathetic females. They
were eyeing him in judgemental shock. Not only had he put the young
page at risk; he seemed to have been grabbing a cheap feel in the
process. This definitely will not help the female vote , he
thought. However, he did not have much time to think about it
because Rudi had grabbed his arm and moved him swiftly toward the
secure corridor the Senator used to travel the building.
    Rudi realized that so far no one had taken
pictures of this event, which was not unusual. If the proceedings
were determined to be of a non-newsworthy nature or something more
interesting was going on, the photographers would skip certain
events. News of this incident would travel fast, however, and the
photographer’s paparazzi instinct would kick in; there would be a
swarm of them soon. If they could get there on time, they might get
a candid shot of the august senator who was rarely photographed in
any type of non-scripted moment. One photographer did make it to
the room, and grinned as he took in the shocked, dishevelled
legislator. He went into his instinctive human tripod pose to
steady his camera. This one should be good for a bonus , he
thought, as his finger descended on the button.
    Rudi reached forward and put two fingers
underneath the man’s elbow. He exerted a little pressure from his
rock solid arm, and the result was the man’s camera moved up around
two inches, and to the wrong side of the senator’s problem. The
resulting photo would be a partial picture of any senior’s hair.
The photographer swore as Rudi smiled sweetly and said, “Excuse me,
senator coming through, pardon us…!” in his most official sounding
voice. They managed to clear the door, which snapped shut behind
them. The photographer was not able to get another try and grumped
off mumbling to himself.
    They walked down the hallway together in
silence. Rudi did not know why he stayed with this man; he could be
pompous, petty, arrogant, and vain. Now we have to add cowardly
to the list , he thought ruefully. He might have to take some of
the other job offers he had been receiving a little more
seriously.
    Kincaid asked him, “Any other camera-toting
vultures in there?”
    Rudi squinted his eyes, trying to remember
the human contents of the room. “If there was, they have already
packed up and left, so I think we got away with something.” He
could not resist speaking his next thought, “Really, Senator, that
wasn’t too manly,” he said in as respectful a voice as he could
muster.
    “I know, I know,” Kincaid half-whined. “It’s
just that I’ve seen that damn Zapruder film about a million
times and I’ve just got this morbid fear of getting my head blown
off.” Rudi had heard this before, and while he could see why
someone may have wanted to