The Last Election (3 page)

“Sorry, Gov, please continue,” Mason said politely.

“Anyway, Kirk managed to sneak through their line, how in the hell he did it we never knew, and kill a VC soldier with his bare hands. He took the recently departed soldier’s Kalashnikov rifle and killed another dozen bad guys. A lot of men from our unit are alive today thanks to him, including me,” Clark said as he thumbed himself in the chest. “He kept the Kalashnikov AK-47 that he appropriated that day and fought with it the rest of his time in ‘Nam. Hence the name, A.K.”

“Do you seriously think he can beat Bonsam?” Mason asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Oh hell yeah, Bonsam is washed up. Even after the midterms his future wasn’t looking too bright.” Clark leaned back in his chair and mocked the president. “I take full responsibility for the results of the election,
yadda
yadda
yadda
.” He actually had the voice and mannerisms down pretty well. He sat up straight again and said, “Then in his next breath he went on to place the blame on anybody he could.” Mason nodded in agreement.

Clark got up from his chair and walked to the window overlooking downtown Lansing. He loved Lansing. To him it was one of the friendliest cities in Michigan. He had always been proud of the city, with its hard work – get it done attitude. “People finally see him for what he really is; an unseasoned senator and an absolute narcissist.”

He turned back to face Mason. “The American people just don’t buy his line of crap anymore. They expect the President of the United States to man-up, quit making excuses, quit blaming others, and get the damned job done. They want to see results.”

Clark resumed looking out the window. “Remember back in 2008 during his campaign when the right-wing nut jobs on conservative radio made fun of him, sarcastically saying that the ‘Savior’ had arrived? They saw what was going on, but on the other side of the coin, the liberal media seriously believed he could walk on water, and the democratic voters ate it up,” he said with a wry grin.

       
“That’s the key block of voters we need to convert to take the White House in November, Gov. We nailed down the independent vote without breaking a sweat. Converting the democratic voters won’t be quite so easy,” Mason replied.

“Well, that’s why I hired you, remember?” Clark said with a smile as he turned back toward Mason.

“I know. I just need to figure out a way to dumb down enough parts of our campaign so they’ll be able to understand it,” said Mason with a laugh.

“Very funny,” replied Clark. “By the way, don’t you have some campaign manager work you should be doing instead of sitting here cracking jokes?”

Mason looked at Clark for a moment. After a short pause he said, “Oh, I get it, you want me to leave.”

“Yes. The sooner the better, Brett.”

“Okay, Gov. I’m going back to my office now to do some…” he forgot where he was going with this.

Clark helped him out. Speaking slowly he said, “Campaign manager work.”

“That’s it! Campaign manager work,” said Mason. He turned and walked out of Clark’s office saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gov.”

Clark shook his head and laughed as Mason exited the office. As he returned to his seat he glanced back at the television and noticed that the network was now showing footage of President Bonsam’s most recent campaign speech. He picked up the remote and turned the volume back on just as the network cut back to the anchor desk where three political analysts were comparing Bonsam’s last speech to the speech given by Senator Kirk just minutes ago.

The anchorman and two of the analysts were confident that Senator Kirk was on a path to victory in the primaries, however, the other analyst remained silent. When he was finally given a chance to speak, he glanced at the other two analysts and said in a low voice, “President Bonsam is not a man who can easily be beaten. He will prevail.”

There was a momentary silence on the set as the anchorman and analysts reflected upon the remark. It sounded more like a threat than an opinion. No one knew what to say, so the anchorman quickly cut to a commercial.
 

Clark thought about the comment as well. He had always felt in the back of his mind that Bonsam was the type of politician that would go to extraordinary lengths to hold on to power. As the primary season rolled around, Bonsam continually appeared angry, and Clark became more concerned that Bonsam would resort to any desperate political measure necessary to win the election. Clark turned his chair so he was facing the window and said to himself, “Bonsam is dangerous.”

It was well past midnight and President Bonsam was completely worn out. He knew that this was a day he would not soon forget. He could not believe that the American people would turn against him after all he had done.
Kirk is inferior! How could they trust and believe in a man like Alexander Kirk?

He entered the master bedroom thinking ahead to Super Tuesday. He leaned forward toward the fireplace with his hand on the mantle, staring at his reflection in the mirror above.
Kirk’s success has been a fluke. How can I possibly lose to him? I am Emmanuel Bonsam, President of the United States!
Then he remembered that the recent polls showed Senator Kirk with a significant lead in most of the Super Tuesday states.
Kirk has to be stopped.
As he looked deeply into his own eyes, he realized that Super Tuesday was the point of no return. He needed to shut down Senator Kirk’s campaign once and for all.

Bonsam walked over to the four-post mahogany bed and lay down, still fully dressed, and drifted off to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. As he drifted, random images started floating through his mind again, however, with nowhere near the intensity of the episode he experienced earlier this evening. There were no hooded demons, but the mysterious symbols carved in stone appeared once more. Many other non-threatening images passed by, yet he saw the flames again and again.
Why?
 
One by one the images slowly faded away. The last image to cross his mind before he fell into a deep sleep was an image of his mother.

Chapter 4

Emmanuel Bonsam was actually born Emmanuel Bonsam Durrett. His father, Evan Durrett, had been an E3 in the U.S. Coast Guard. Durrett had been aboard the cutter
Resolute,
which was conducting a humanitarian mission in Africa, when she docked at the Ghanaian Naval Base at the Port of
Tema
. It was there that he met Ama Bonsam, Emmanuel’s mother. She was young and naïve and an easy target for a
putz
like Durrett to seduce. Durrett promised her he would love her forever and told her anything she wanted to hear, until she finally gave in and gave her body to him. To her shame she became pregnant the first time she made love to Durrett.

Durrett had no intention of taking responsibility, however, that all changed when Ama’s father showed up at the port with three heavily armed associates. Asmoah Bonsam was a well-respected businessman in Accra. He owned two major hotels and several other pieces of high-profile commercial property. He was not about to let some white American loser bring disgrace upon the Bonsam family name.

The
Resolute
guards were taken by surprise when Mr. Bonsam and his thugs approached the brow. Mr. Bonsam had a look that showed he meant business, so the Gangway Petty Officer of the Watch quickly placed a frantic call to his skipper, Captain Raymond Strickland, who was on the scene in minutes.

Strickland and Bonsam sized each other up as they shook hands. Strickland admired men like Bonsam since his own ancestors were of West African descent. Captain Strickland invited Mr. Bonsam aboard to meet with him privately in his quarters, and Mr. Bonsam explained the whole predicament in a matter of minutes. Strickland was furious. He had long considered Durrett a terrible seaman and a constant whiner, and now this. Mr. Bonsam demanded that the man responsible for this dilemma make an honest woman out of his daughter, or else he would take matters into his own hands.
 

Ghana had always been one of America’s closest and most trusted allies in Africa. The last thing anybody needed was an embarrassing international incident that would make the United States look disrespectful toward its African allies. Strickland knew he had to do something and do it quickly so as not to further anger Mr. Bonsam.

Captain Strickland and Mr. Bonsam discussed the matter at length, and finally Strickland devised a plan that satisfied Mr. Bonsam’s desires. Strickland invited Mr. Bonsam’s associates into his quarters and allowed them to stand in the back of the room, and then he called in Durrett. He walked up to Durrett and with his face a mere six inches away, gave him two very simple options. Durrett could marry Ama and return with her to the United States, or he could be left in Ghana to settle this matter on his own. Durrett took one look at Mr. Bonsam and started to shake. The associates shifted their stances, moving their hands closer to their weapons. He looked back at Captain Strickland and realized he wasn’t bluffing.

The following morning Captain Strickland and Mr. Bonsam took Seaman Durrett and young Ama to the U.S. Embassy in Accra, and by the end of the day the two were husband and wife. If it were up to Strickland, he would have had Durrett thrown out of the Coast Guard for good, but that would only have hurt Ama and her unborn child. Captain Strickland knew he would be doing the nation a huge favor by keeping Evan Durrett as far away from Coast Guard cutters as possible, so by the end of the week Strickland had Seaman Durrett transferred to a desk job at the Integrated Support Command in St. Louis, Missouri.

When Durrett arrived in St. Louis, he was surprised to find that no base housing was available. As an E3 with a wife and baby on the way, Durrett’s financial situation was poor to say the least. It would be a stretch to afford even the most basic apartments in St. Louis, even with a housing allowance. So across the Mississippi he went to East St. Louis, Illinois.

Apartments there were much more affordable, primarily because they were located in neighborhoods ravaged by violent crime. Durrett, too dense to realize that living there was to put his and his family’s lives at risk every day, signed a lease for a two-bedroom apartment located halfway down Old Missouri Avenue.

To Ama, the baby inside her was both a blessing and a curse. She had always dreamed of being a mother some day, but not in a situation like this. Durrett spent little time with her and her days were filled with loneliness. Her sorrow was compounded by the guilt she carried for bringing shame to the Bonsam family.

Ama missed Ghana and her father immensely, but she tried to remain upbeat as her due date approached. She believed the baby would bring her the joy and companionship she had been missing all these months. When she felt the baby inside kick her, she felt happiness like she had never felt since leaving Ghana. She would rub her growing belly every day and talk to her unborn child. Then, just like that, her joy was ripped away and replaced by even more painful sorrow.

On the day before her baby was due, she received word that her father had died of a heart attack. Ama was devastated. She wailed and cried at the news, and then to make a bad situation even worse, her water broke. So on that cold December night, through her tears of sorrow, Ama gave birth to a seven-pound baby boy. Durrett showed up just as the delivery was winding down, reeking of alcohol. Ama chose the name Emmanuel Bonsam Durrett, and her lousy husband was too drunk to object. As Ama looked at the infant son she was holding in her arms, her emotions were tearing her apart. She felt joy and sorrow, a blessing and a curse.

Durrett was eventually kicked out of the Coast Guard, and he abandoned Bonsam and Ama and was never heard from again. Bonsam was only four years old at the time, and he had very little recollection of his father. Ama did the best she could to raise Bonsam on her own, but that was no easy task. She had spent her entire life working in her father’s hotels and had only a primary level education, plus her English was not very strong. She cleaned houses and apartments to get by. Ama kept to herself for the most part, since she never really understood the American way of life.

During his childhood Bonsam continually saw his mother being harassed. She could not go to the grocery store or the post office without someone being rude and disrespectful to her. One time when he was young, he saw a convenience store clerk slam change onto the counter and yell, “Go back to Africa, bitch!” because she could not understand what the clerk was saying to her as she tried to make a purchase. These incidents were devastating to Bonsam, and he had come to detest his father and all who were like him. He vowed that one day he would have the power to destroy the lowlife who brought misery to his mother’s world. Out of spite, he had his last name legally changed from Durrett to Bonsam when he turned fourteen.