After the dust settled, Rep. Eric Cantor found himself alone in his apartment. Despite a low grade fever and tendrils of pain emanating from a bite wound on his calf, the hardworking politician found himself lamenting the day’s events.
"Why did I bring that bill?" he muttered angrily. He had hoped the stage prop would have had the same effect as when President Ronald Reagan had used a similar tactic at a State of the Union address three decades earlier. It didn’t. Obama had been ready for him. After being undressed over the importance of regulations, Cantor had wanted to crawl under the desk for the rest of the meeting. His "Oh Shit" face had been televised to the world and it left him fuming. But he had bigger problems.
Cantor ran his hand down to his calf and grimaced. During a secret meeting with Andrew Breitbart, the conservative Internet entrepreneur inexplicably lashed out at him as they were discussing ways to get James O’Keefe into the White House for some "telecommunications activities". How Eric laughed when Breitbart suggested the ruse. As his head craned back and mouth went skyward to produce his signature cackle, Breitbart struck. The businessman’s teeth sank easily into the Congressman’s fleshy calf, ripping out a chunk of tissue and spraying blood and gore. Breitbart had gnashed his teeth spasmodically as Cantor’s security rushed to his aid. It took a couple of good shots with a retractable baton to put Breitbart down for the eternal count.
After his wound was treated by a local doctor, on the taxpayer’s dime, Cantor had briefly considered not attending the health care summit. But after his ingenious plan to bring the weighty senate bill with him, how could he not attend? Besides, everyone would be watching, and Cantor was as opportunistic as a bacterial infection inside a transplant ward.
Now, hours after the historic summit, he felt ill. All he wanted to do was crawl under his covers, watch Fox News for a few hours and drift into a lovely, ideological sleep as the serene voices of Hannity, O’Reilly and Ann Coulter brought on REM sleep.
"There’s work to do," he reminded himself. "Important work."
That was true, and he knew it at the core of his being. A black town car waited downstairs to ferry him to a strategy session with his other high ranking conservative brethren. Mitch, John and Lamar would be there, expecting his valuable input. Besides, he could ask Drs. Coburn and Barrasso to take a quick look at the bite. On the slate today: further strategies on destroying health care, denying climate change, and a most important discussion on reining the tea baggers back into the fold.
Eric took a deep breath and wiped his face, as if the motion would similarly wipe his soul clean. It didn’t. With a resolute sigh, he put his glasses on, grabbed his briefcase and limped to the door.
-
Upon reaching the clandestine room on C Street, Cantor instructed his security detail to wait outside. He went in and nodded to McConnell and Boehner, who sat at a large round table. Flanking them were Coburn, Barrasso, Lamar Alexander, Richard Shelby, Jon Kyl, and the Johns: Cornyn, McCain, and Thune. Coffee steamed out of a pot and after eyeing it, Marsha Blackburn walked in and offered him a cup.
"I could use it," he said, silently thinking that women were only good for two things: the missionary position and pouring coffee.
Blackburn poured for everyone gathered. There were twelve, including Cantor, and his mind wandered to the legend of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. There were twelve of them: the finest America had to offer to its citizens. He felt warm to be in such company but privately wondered if the sensation was due to his fever.
"Shall we begin?" McConnell asked, his stopwatch ready to ensure that everyone in the room, besides Blackburn, of course, would have equal time to speak.
A few of them nodded. McCain stood up and scanned the room.
"My friends," he began. "We all know why we’re here." He leered at
Congresswoman Blackburn. "Except Marsha."
They all laughed. Blackburn laughed too. It was the polite thing to do. And it was true. This bunch was all about truth, integrity and true American values.
"I wanted to thank all of you for your efforts today," McCain continued.
"Listening to that sniveling liberal crap was enough to drive anyone insane, even me."
McConnell clicked his stopwatch. "I think someone else should have a go, John."
The other John’s looked up. Barrasso held his stethoscope up in approval. "I use this to listen," he said stoically.
Boehner took a swig of piping hot coffee. "All this bipartisan nonsense is making me sick," he said.
Cantor had begun to feel worse. Beads of sweat prickled on his brow and his jaw felt tight. He moved it around some, remembering the advice Larry Craig had given him on how to alleviate lockjaw.
Dr. Coburn glanced at Cantor. "Are you okay buddy?" he asked.
It took Cantor just a few moments to realize how sick he actually was. The adrenaline from the day’s events had worn off completely and his fever had gone from low grade to a boiling state.
"Meat," he said wearily.
"Can I get you some more coffee?" Blackburn asked with concern. "I’m really good at pouring it."
"Meat," Cantor repeated, his voice inexplicably became low and guttural.
He shifted uneasily in his seat and the bite on his leg roiled with pain.
"I can listen to you with this," Barrasso said confidently and approached the ill Whip. He put the stethoscope against Cantor’s chest and adopted a blank stare.
"MEAT!!!" Cantor screamed. Barrasso recoiled in pain, momentarily deafened. Cantor sprung up and sank his teeth into Barrasso’s neck. The bite was true and the Wyoming Senator yelped in pain. Cantor had hit the jugular spot on and blood shot out of it like a geyser. Wyoming was geyser country and just before he passed out Barrasso found this to be ironically appropriate.
Kyl shot out of his seat and back peddled. Coburn ran to his friend and placed a hand over his neck.
"We have to stop the bleeding," Coburn pleaded.
Cantor wasn’t finished. He leapt at McCain and bit him on the right side of his face. McCain tried to put his arms up in defense, but couldn’t. Another spray of blood. Cantor pushed McCain back, and turned his attention to Alexander, who was agape in horror.
Blackburn grabbed the pot of coffee and aimed its contents at Cantor, but Cornyn and Thune were already up and moving away from the carnage. Thune smacked into her and the steaming java went wayward, striking Shelby in the face. The Senator from Alabama screamed madly as his skin was instantly scalded.
"My face!" he screamed, and fell backwards, knocking his skull on the wall behind him. As he slunk to the floor, Cornyn and Kyl reached the door. Cantor spun towards them, his teeth gnashing. Bits of gore trickled down his face.
In a moment Cantor was upon them. Blackburn screeched again. She tried to run around the table, but Barrasso was in her way. He had risen.
"Let them in," she yelled. "Don’t let them out!" She was obviously panicked.
She repeated this like a mantra until Barrasso’s hungry eyes fixed on her. The stethoscope dangled from his neck.
--
Outside the door, Evans and Jackson listened to the chaos inside. They removed their side arms, 9mm Berettas, and angled for the door. Jackson clenched the knob and was about to turn it.
"Are you sure that’s a good idea?" Evans asked.
The agents looked at each other for a moment.
"No," Jackson finally said, "but it’s our job."
He opened the door.
TO BE CONTINUED...
I'll continue if if you guys want, it only took 10 mins to write and made me chuckle a bit. I've decided to write some zombie fiction, so this is a bit of loose, unrevised practice