Google Images... Artist: Ian Joyner
The ashen sky hung like a pall over the small chapel at the cemetery... it was full to capacity with many more mourners standing around the perimeter. Melissa's mother wept openly and her father sat, head bowed fighting back tears. But there was no figure at Melissa's funeral more sorrowful, more contrite than candidate for president, Alan Denning who stood at the wooden podium in front of friends, family and the media dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. He began speaking slowly in a voice choked with emotion...
"Melissa was not only a valued member of our election team, a treasured asset- she was a friend who worked tirelessly on this campaign. Why, just the night before this tragic accident, she visited with me and spent hours going over speeches and discussing strategies to encourage young people to become involved more in the electoral process... More than anyone, Melissa understood the importance of motivating young voters- and more than anything I'd like to see young voters turn out in record numbers. I can think of no more fitting way to honor the memory of one of the finest young women I ever had the privilege of knowing."
He tearfully walked from the podium to embrace Melissa's mother and to clasp her father's hand in both of his. He sat head bowed respectfully for the rest of the service, dabbing his eyes and was so distraught, Sean Welbourne, his campaign manager had to help him to the waiting limo. Once inside out of view of the press, he asked: "Well, how did I sound? Was I sincere enough... did I come off alright?"
Sean looked at him in amazement... "She isn't even in the ground yet and you're wondering how your little speech went over?"
"Fuck her. This is an election year- there are a thousand more just like her dying to take her place... did you find a replacement yet?" Denning spat derisively.
"What really went on in that hotel room?" Sean wanted to know.
"She came over. We fucked. She left- case closed." Denning gave Sean a look that said 'ask no more questions.'
"Are you sure it's case closed?" Sean was suspicious.
"Of course, what else could there be? Didn't you see how distraught I was at the funeral?" Denning smiled. "Why?"
"Didn't you notice Sen. Ashby's campaign manager at the funeral? She was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Womack afterward. Doesn't that worry you?" Sean looked worried enough for them both.
"So what? She was paying her respects- it's expected. You worry too much... nothing went on." Denning was becoming impatient. "This isn't about some cunt that wanted into politics- this is about getting me elected. Do you think we reached the young voters there today?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Sean was staring out of the limo's window wondering what had really happened in the hotel room... wondering why the governor's wife hadn't accompanied him to the funeral and more than anything- wondering what he had gotten himself into getting involved with a man like Denning.
Sean came from a prominent New England family. The Welbournes could trace their heritage back to the Mayflower... he was a product of the best schools- Philips Andover, Cornell and Yale Law. As he sat ruminating, he began to wonder if he was backing the wrong horse in this race... not because he didn't think that Denning could win- he had no doubts about that- he wondered just how far the governor would go to accomplish it.
There was something not right... something dark about Denning. He caught glimpses of it from time to time... something in his eyes troubled Sean, as if there was something not quite human looking back. There was something Sean thought almost evil behind that winning smile and it also troubled him the way Denning's wife seemed to avoid her husband's presence as often as possible.
"Sean," it was Denning. "Sean, where are you? Weren't you listening?"
"No, sorry," Sean replied. "I was thinking. Thinking about the election," he lied.
"Well, you didn't tell me how you thought my little presentation at the funeral went," Denning said impatiently. If this guy's loyalty wasn't 100% he would have to go, Denning thought. He was smart and knew a lot of the right people... but, everybody can be replaced. The primary was only a few weeks away and he could take no chances. He needed the youth vote to have any chance of winning... and win he must.Denning's strategy would be a simple one. All his speeches would center around one theme: This is for Melissa... please, please help me... help me honor her memory... help me honor her life!
It had worked like a charm. Young voters turned out in droves- Ashby didn't have a prayer. Lena Cedeno, his campaign manager brought up rumors of improprieties and Denning went on the offensive... How dare they besmirch the memory of a dedicated young woman???
At the convention a smiling Alan Denning stood to accept his party's nomination. He was even so magnanimous as to offer the vice-presidency to his fallen opponent- who emphatically declined. Somewhere in Hell, the Night Gods were smiling as well.
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