The closing lines. The words that will echo in the minds of spectators, hours after they go home. What I shall be remembered by. The clapping begins and is abruptly punctured by a scream, then gunshots. I already see my bodyguards on the move, then feel a hand on my arm as I am pulled from the stage at a run. My entourage hurries down the stairs, across the grass and through the crowd. The people part, and I see worried looks. There is some comfort to be found in their empathy. Then a man in a red jacket steps before me and shoots. 

 

Someone shoves me. As I turn around, I see the gun in his hand, so, naturally, I scream. He and some other guy climb over the barrier between me and the stage as they shoot at the guards up top, who shoot back. One of the killers gets a bullet straight in the forehead. His blood spurts out the back of his skull with a sound that makes me want to curl up into a little ball on the floor. The other one dodges and keeps going, until he’s shot too. Thank God the congressman is off the stage. 

 

Just after the first shots, I see one of us go down. My steely resolve is gone in an instant as I panic and sprint in the opposite direction, away from the stage, away from the madness, as fast as I possibly can. I am a deserter now, a coward. More shots go off, and I hear screams. When I reach the edge of the park I lie down in the grass and begin to cry. The people and police cars wail. 

 

Shots go off, so I slip out of a trance and get my head in the game. I take the congressman by the arm, and we’re off down the stairs. Finally, some fucking excitement. Tom joins us and we run across the grass. The stuck-up weirdos that came to this shit are going nuts, and I get a good chuckle. We’re nearly out of the crowd, when a guy steps in front of us and, before I can react, shoots the congressman point blank in the chest. Christ, he popped like a water balloon. 

 

I watch as the congressman goes down, then one of his guards launches himself onto the killer, beating him over and over with his fist until his face is little more than a bloody pulp and he’s begging for his life. I wonder how this will look on the news. Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have worn this shirt. 

 

I feel empty as I look at the dead man in the grass. His poor children. His wife. And think of the slim margin we already had. How will we keep the house majority now? 

 

How will they feel 

When they see the headlines 

I don’t think people really see it in the same way 

Some will cry 

Others may dance 

When you’ve been God to some and Satan to others 

 

Williams runs from the stage, a guard on either side of him. They’re pushing through the crowd running towards what I can only assume is a car that is going to take them to safety. I know I am the last one left, but I’m ready. I’ll see it through. I button my jacket and move.