Avescope Memento Mori

July 9, 2020
05:02
Sal Adin
A serialized novel by
LD Towers
Chapter 4
Marlena Leander sat quietly at the desk, reading a romance novel. It was a sweet story about youthful innocence and passion; almost creating a
yearning for long-ago days when she was young. Almost. But she was driven by other passions now. Power. Influence. She glanced over at her
husband, who lay sleeping on the couch nearby, with a half-empty glass of cognac on the table beside him. In sleep, he didn't look like he could
be the most powerful man in the world. He looked more like a little boy. She got up, looking for a blanket to cover him with. Lately, Air Force One
had felt more like home than 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue or Mereswell. They had spent so much time on the plane, and she was tired of it. But
she never complained, she thought to herself as she pulled the blanket out of the bulkhead. It was one of the disadvantages of having power.
And she needed the power. She basked in its glow, like a flower to the sun. It fed and preserved her.
Gently Marlena covered her husband, careful not to wake him. Sometimes a small voice in the back of her mind asked her if it was worth it,
everything she had given up. She and her husband no longer had a sexual relationship and hadn't in a long time. They no longer desired each
other; he because she was no longer young and she was hurt by his philandering. But she could not begrudge him his pleasures. His affairs were
short and unimportant. What was important was that they were still friends and good friends at that. They needed each other. They had the
same ambitions. When one faltered, the other supported. Together they had made it to the top. It had been a long road.
A lock of his hair had fallen across his forehead and she carefully swept it back. He sighed in his sleep but did not wake. Marlena smiled with an
unaccustomed tenderness. He had been an earnest young man when she had met him, so many years ago. Jared had always known what he
wanted. To be the president. In those years she had worshiped him without question. He had been so handsome. He still was. He had been loyal
to her in his own way. Sex was a fleeting thing to him; an itch he scratched. But as she had grown up and he grew more unfaithful, she had
consolidated her position in his life by mating with his ambition. Encouraging it, supporting it, and believing in what he could become. Never,
ever complaining.
Sometimes she wondered what would happen in three years, when his second term was up. He would be fifty-four. What would he do? What
else was there for him? It was almost as if it had happened too fast. Marlena worried he would fade away. Then where would she be? What
would become of them? She had suddenly developed a fear of the future, for there had never been a plan other than the White House. The day
they were out might as well be the last day of her life.
Marlena crossed back across the cabin and sat back down to her book. She glanced at her watch as she stifled a yawn. It was a few minutes after
five in the morning. She wished she could sleep on planes, but that was not the case. She didn't know if it was the motion or the noise, but
something made it an impossibility.
There was a soft knock on the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She got up to open it. Gerald Ferrara, head of the President’s security and
Agent Adrian Selmore stood at the door. Both looked quite haggard, but Marlena assumed it was due to the earliness of the hour. "Good
morning, gentlemen. What can I do for you?"
Ferrara was a stocky man, who was built like a bulldog. He had salt and pepper hair that flowed with little direction across his head. His dark skin
and eyes showed his Hispanic heritage. He was dressed in a suit that looked a shade too small in the shoulders. His tie was crooked and seemed
as if it had been hastily pulled up to his collar. Ferarra looked at her strangely, his eyes brimming with anger and what almost seemed to be pity.
"We need to talk to POTUS.”
"He's asleep. Is it important?" She hated to disturb Jared when he was sleeping. He needed his time away from the world and the demands of
the presidency had aged him visibly.
Selmore did not look at her, but kept his eyes fastened on her knees. "It's very important, Mrs. Leander." His voice was a tightly controlled
whisper.
She sighed and opened the door wider. She crossed the cabin and sat down on the edge of the couch. "Jared, duty calls." She gently stroked his
cheek as he opened his famous blue eyes.
"Doesn't it always? Good morning, beautiful!" He yawned and sat up. "Ferarra, Selmore, have a seat while I wake up. What time is it?"
Ferarra answered. "Oh-five twelve, pacific standard time, Sir."
"Christ!” The President yawned again. “Fuck ups just keep getting earlier and earlier." He shook his head as if to shake away the cobwebs. "Ah
well, hit me."
Ferarra opened a file folder. "I have some bad news, Sir. Just after four this morning an unknown force assaulted Mereswell. All agents are down
and it is assumed that you were the target," he paused.
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