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    Lee Wilson
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
This story is an original work of gay fiction. None of the people or events are real. While some of the town names used may be real, any other geographic references (school, events) are purely fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is completely coincidental. This story depicts sexual situations between adult males. If reading this is illegal where you reside, or you are not at least 18 years of age, you are reading at your own risk. This work is the property of the author, Lee R Wilson, and shall not be reproduced and/or re-posted without his permission. Story ©2024 Lee R Wilson.

The Black Aura - 9. In The End

I tried so hard and got so far
But in the end, it doesn't even matter
I had to fall to lose it all
But in the end, it doesn't even matter

Linkin Park - 2000


22

They were obviously all concerned. I shut down like a slamming door. One second, I was part of the conversation; the next, I was part of the furniture. Needless to say, Lindy was the most concerned. The emotional roller-coaster ride I just took caused me to blow a fuse, but all the lights went out. I was rushed to George Washington University Hospital's Behavioral Health unit. Medically, I was fine. The problem was definitely psychological. I started to become aware of my surroundings after I was there, in a quiet, uncomplicated place, for about an hour. I became aware confused. Not about where I was, or why I was there. That was clear. But so was everything else. Lindy was by my side, as was Hayden. A couple Secret Service members were present as well. All of that seemed and was normal. The confusion stemmed from how clearly I could see everybody.

The auras were gone.

I blinked about a dozen times, stupidly thinking that something was affecting my vision. If that were the case, everything would have been less clear. That's not to say the auras blurred things, they just made the edges a little fuzzy.

Lindy noticed my confusion first, "What's wrong, Avery?"

"They're gone."

Hayden responded, "Who is gone?"

Once I hit law school, Lindy, my family, and the two people from my high school were the only ones with whom I shared the fact that I saw auras. I'd have been locked up a long time ago if everybody thought I was seeing things. She covered for me immediately.

"The Cortunans? Or the astronauts?"

I realized my near faux pas, "All of them."

The truth would have to wait until I was alone with Lindy, but I think she had an inkling what my statement meant.

Hayden replied, "The Cortunans are almost all okay. There were a few pockets of people that didn't obey the evacuation notice. Maybe fifty persons total."

Big mistake there, Hayden. If the deaths of the astronauts and the terrorists were bothering me, and they were, knowing I personally made the decision to wipe out innocents found that light switch again. Hayden had left. Avery Junior was in California, Peter and Madeline lived in Kingsville, Texas and Wooster, Ohio respectively. Avery Junior worked at the Naval base in San Diego but lived in Lemon Grove. Lindy's Mother was still living in Morristown, Tennessee. Her father had died around five years before. The four cities "destroyed" were no coincidence. One of the people closest to me lived in every one of them. I couldn't make the connections to West Chicago and College Park, but I knew they would be there.

By the time I came around again after that blackout, four days had gone by, and I'd been relieved of my duties as President. Of course, I didn't know that yet. Information was provided a little at a time, for fear I would shut down again. I wasn't charged with nor relieved due to any potential war crimes, but because nobody had any idea when, or even if, I'd wake up again. But I did. Alone. Oh, the Secret Service detail was outside the door, but I was alone in the room. Apparently, they don't put the call button close enough for apparently comatose patients to reach.

"Hello?"

Scratchy and quiet. No water glass either. I swallowed what little saliva I could generate and tried again.

Louder, I squeaked, "Hello?"

I must have been heard, because one of my agents opened the door a crack and looked in.

"Can you find a nurse?"

Scratchy again. The door closed, but I still heard the commotion. The other member of the detail came into the room.

"Ted went to go get a nurse."

"Water?"

There was a pitcher nearby, just not in the line of sight I was looking when I woke. Jeff poured a cup of water and helped me take a couple small sips.

"Lindy?"

"Ted was going to call her after he got a nurse."

Speak of the devil, or rather devils. Three more people rushed into the room. I assumed two were nurses because they were dressed similarly. The third was likely a doctor. She spoke first.

"I'm doctor Terrigan. Welcome back, Mr. President. You had us worried."

"How long was I..."

"Four days."

"Wow. Why am I still tired?"

"That's normal. Being in a psychologically induced coma isn't necessarily a restful state."

She did some basic examinations. Flashlight in the eyes, how many fingers, follow them with just my eyes, moving each of my limbs, were all included. Vital signs were available on the monitors next to my bed.

"You don't appear to have suffered any physical effects, not that it was expected. How is your thinking? Do you know your name?"

"Yes. Avery Anthony Carey Noonan."

Pointing at the agents, "And do you know those two men?"

"Yes. Ted Parsons and Jeff Millburn."

"Do you know what day it is?"

"If I've been out for four days, it must be April twenty-fourth, twenty-sixty-one."

"Good. You were able to reason that out from the information you had. Are you married?"

"Yes. My wife is Lindy, I already asked about her."

Ted offered up the next bit of information, "I've spoken to her, she's on her way."

Doctor Terrigan continued checking me out, giving me a clean bill of health. A little muscular atrophy, but nothing severe nor unexpected. She was an internist, basically a general practitioner working in the hospital.

"Doctors Matthews and Arlington, staff neurologist and psychiatrist should be in to see you before too long. I'll check in again later."

"Thank you."

As she was leaving, Lindy walked in, "Thank God you're awake."

"Yes. And physically okay according to Doctor Terrigan."

"I was beside myself with worry. Actually, the whole country was, but Thompson has had a couple press conferences and given everyone updates on your status."

"The update being, status quo."

"After the first one, yes."

She looked at the agents. I took the hint.

"Ted, Jeff, could you step out into the hall?"

Ted, being the senior partner, responded, "Of course, Mr. President. It's great to have you back."

They left.

"Am I back?"

"Like before all this happened?"

"Yes."

"Mostly. Congress determined that it would be best if Thompson took over officially."

"When did that happen?"

"Friday. Two days ago."

"Nine days. Officially President for only nine days."

"Yes. That's a record that will be very hard to beat."

"Well, you know I never really wanted to be President before it was thrust upon me."

"Of course. So, are they really gone?"

"What?"

"The first time you woke up, you said 'They're gone.'"

"Oh. Yes. No colors. It was strange."

"Do you think that's why you blacked out the second time?"

"It may have contributed, but no, not completely."

"Well, you'll figure that out with Dr. Arlington."

"I already have a pretty good idea."

"What's that?"

"Where does Avery live?"

"Lemon Grove."

"And Peter?"

"Kings... Oh, dear."

"Yeah. The false Loof apparently wanted to fuck with my head. Did a good job of it, too."

"I never put that together."

"Good thing. You'd be in this bed with me. Not that I'd hate that."

"You're a dirty old man."

"Yeah, but I'm your dirty old man."

The door opened as I was finishing that sentence.

"Am I interrupting something?"

I answered, "Just a little innocent flirting, Doctor..."

"Matthews. Staff neurologist. I'm only here to let you know there are no issues with your head that concern me. Physically, your brain is okay."

"Yeah, mentally, that's another story."

"And fortunately for me, not in my bag of tricks. But, to be thorough, I will give you a quick exam and tell you all the tests were negative."

I got the flashlight in the eye and the fingers bit, et al, again. I considered looking the other way when following his finger, but thought better of it.

"Okay. Well, Mr. President, it was nice to meet you. Nothing personal, but I never want to see you professionally again, okay?"

I laughed a little, "Agreed."

"Goodbye."

Lindy and I replied identically, "Bye, Doctor."

23

I spent three more days at George Washington University Hospital. Much of that time spent talking with Doctor Arlington. We talked about everything, including the loss of my special gift. I figured doctor/patient confidentiality would keep him from saying something. Lindy needed to confirm that I did indeed previously have that ability. I didn't need a crazy man's doctor thinking I was crazy.

When I was released, we went back to Camp Hill, Pennsylvania, and the small house Lindy and I lived in until January twentieth. The initial thinking was, I was sixty-five years old. A little more than four months away from being sixty-six, and it was time to slow down. As they say about the best laid plans, being that idle was, well, I don't like to say driving me crazy, but it was.

After almost a year of reading, working around the house and doing a lot of nothing, Lindy saw how restless I was. Early in twenty-sixty-two, she sat me down for a talk.

"You hate being here, don't you?"

"No. I love being here with you."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it. You hate the idleness."

"Yes."

"I have an idea that might boost your spirits."

"I'm all ears."

"I happen to know that's not true. At least, it doesn't look like an ear. Maybe a long nose."

I chuckled.

"Anyway, Ann Carrolton is up for re-election in November. You should run against her."

"That would grind her stones, wouldn't it?"

"That wasn't my point, but yeah."

So, on March second, 2062, I announced my candidacy for Senator of Pennsylvania, once again. Madame Carrolton was not pleased with me after that announcement. Damn, that woman could hold a grudge. She was even less pleased when the first poll came out and I had a twenty-point lead. I didn't want to imagine her thoughts when all the votes were counted and I'd won by thirty-one percent, sixty-five to thirty-four. A third-party candidate garnered almost one percent. She was only sixty-four years old herself, and not ready to give up on politics. My thinking was I'd serve two terms, if I'm re-elected in six years, and retire at seventy-nine. Lindy and I would still have twelve years together to spend with our children and grandchildren, of which we had seven. I never forgot when I compared our auras, that we would die within three months of each other when I was ninety-one.

Actually, after I won the Senate seat, the auras returned. This time, only Lindy knew.

Epilogue

Avery did serve two terms, then retired. He died at the ripe old age of ninety-one, eighty-six days after Lindy left this world. All three children were still alive, as were the seven grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. While he was only President for those nine days in April, he was still buried with all the benefits of any ex-President.

Each of his children shared the characteristic of having an extraordinary talent. Their stories will follow.

The End

A quick note about the cities being bombed choices. I had looked for a list of US cities with 25,000 people. I felt that was a high enough number to be impactful, and low enough to be somewhat irrelevant. The data I found was from 2002, but I felt it was a good enough list. Lemon Grove, CA was last, and Wooster, OH was the penultimate entry. Next came two in Illinois, but I chose the one near Chicago. Morristown, TN was fifth from the bottom. The next two from CA and IL, I'd already hit those states, so I skipped them. Kingsville, TX was next. Finally, I saw College Park a little further up the list. It was an obvious choice having been a key location earlier. The list is here:https://www.demographia.com/db-city2002.htm.

This story actually turned out quite a bit shorter than I envisioned when I first began writing it in in twenty-eleven. It stalled early in what is now chapter four, five paragraphs into what is marked section 12. Although at that point, there were only three paragraphs in section 12. I was thinking it would be my first novel. It ended up being only a little over 25,000 words. Hardly a novel. If 50,000 is a common threshold, (according to https://www.publishingtalk.org/writing/how-many-words-in-a-novel-average-word-count-for-books-by-genre/) one of my stories on nifty took the prize. Not as easy to count words there, but the text version of it I have saved comes in at a little under 64,000 words. If another common threshold, 80,000 words is used, 'Don't Blame the Band,' at over 115,000 words, takes the prize. E-mail me if you're curious about the nifty story. It doesn't meet GA's requirements, so I don't want to specifically mention it publicly.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the completion of my first foray into story writing. Sorry, there was no sex, aside from a couple mild references to it.
I have something else in the works, but for now, nothing big. I'm considering a couple sequels to previous stories, including this one. Multiple sections of a larger book. We'll see. 'Rocked to the Core' and 'On My Deathbed' may also get revisited. The second ending of Rocked, that is.

Copyright © 2024 Lee Wilson; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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1 minute ago, Lee Wilson said:

Awesome. I'll have to take a look at that one when I finish the rest of the parts. I wouldn't want Robin's MC's psionic ideas to sway my character's abilities.

Oh, they are nothing alike, believe me. Zero concerns over their abilities being anything alike. The only thing I would say is you both are reigning rulers of angst, bloodiness, and traumatic writing. King and Queen respectively, and even the writing style and delivery there are completely different. 🤣

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