Caroline didn’t want to think about how much decently rendered fraudulent documents would cost. It took until mid-October for them to show up. Not that she knew the proper timeline for black market items. They now had their golden tickets, as Gabe put it.
“Welcome to your new life,” he said, handing Caroline a birth certificate, social security card, passport, and driver’s license. All the tools to pretend she was someone else.
“Diana Marie Pascal,” Caroline read.
“I thought you’d like to keep it French,” Gabe told her.
The guy was thoughtful. Very thoughtful. And thorough. “Thanks,” she said.
“Go over the information and memorize it. You never know.”
She looked at the photo Crunch had taken of her. She would force herself to look in the mirror every morning but had a hard time doing it. Caroline could remember quite clearly what she used to look like. Before those assholes fucking destroyed her. But there was no changing it.
“Born in Wausau, Wisconsin,” she noted.
“Can you manage the accent?”
Four years of college in Milwaukee and a childhood in suburban Chicago. She could damn near master any Midwestern affect she wanted. Caroline nodded at him and flipped through the passport. It felt and looked completely legitimate. All that blank space for stamps and she doubted she’d be getting any special visas.
“Good,” Gabe said. “We wanted to keep things close but far, if you know what I mean.”
It was easier to fake a new identity if it wasn’t that off to begin with. “Why ‘Diana’?” she asked.
“She’s the goddess of the hunt. I thought it sounded empowering.”
Caroline looked at the driver’s license. Just as convincing as the passport. The birth certificate and social security card were spot on, too. Whoever he’d paid to produce these identifying documents had done a phenomenal job. “I see.”
“There is one thing you should know, though.” Gabe sounded worried.
“What’s that?”
“The guys might have taken the name another way. I’m just warning you.”
Jones poked his head in the room, flapping his own passport at her. “Hey, Princess Di!” he said loudly. “Ready to get going on our cross country trip?”
Caroline glared at Gabe. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Gabe shrugged his shoulders, oblivious to the man in the doorway. “I don’t think he reads a lot of Roman mythology. Despite his mother’s devotion to that part of history.”
She turned back to Jones. She would have a good attitude about this. She would. “Drop the ‘Di’ and we’ll be fine,” she said.
Jones smiled. “I knew it. Tough lady likes the cute nickname. I’ll let Crunch know.”
Caroline shoved the documents into her back pocket. No matter what Jones said, they wouldn’t be leaving Washington for a while. She wanted to accelerate the process as much as possible. “Let’s figure this out,” she said. “I’m sick of spinning my wheels.”
“You gotta get stronger. Crunch will continue to help you train and so will Jonesie, but we’re not going to rush into anything.”
“Tell me what I need to know, then ask me what you need to find out.”
“The Underground thinks you’re dead,” he said. “I haven’t bothered correcting them.”
He appeared to be willing to answer her questions, and she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. “What about the general public?” she asked.
Gabe averted his eyes, his standard tactic when he was trying to avoid saying something. “That’s, uh, a little more complicated.”
“Just tell me,” she said.
“The major networks and the Santos Administration are working hand in hand at this point. No one knows if that’s because of the president’s undue influence or because the mainstream media is that easy to manipulate. They showed documents on TV claiming to have proof that your family fled to Europe.”
Family. She tried not to think about it, about them, and forced herself to sound as undaunted as possible. “Why would we do that?”
“Tax evasion. Betraying your country because you wanted to keep all your money. That’s how it’s being played. Rich people not paying their fair share.”
How clever to cover up a lie with a half-truth. “The public bought this?”
“Apparently so. The Underground knows better.”
Dare she ask the question again? “What does the Underground think happened to Jack?”
Gabe shifted his gaze. He knew something, but he wasn’t telling.
“Spit it out,” she said.
“No word from him,” he said. “Some people think he was captured, others think he must have been killed.” He stopped. He had seen her face fall. “There’s been nothing positive at all. I’m sorry.”
She had to stop hoping that his answers would change. He’d told her the same thing multiple times and she refused to let go. Maybe it was time to deal with reality.
“There’s something else you should know too,” he said.
He made it sound like there could be something worse than losing her husband or being labeled a traitor. “What’s that?”
“Santos commuted the rest of the sentence for the guy who shot you at the Capitol. Pardoned him too.”
“Excuse me?”
“Dude is free and clear.”
Caroline clenched her fists. “Dude had a fucking fifty year sentence,” she said.
“Not anymore.”
The man pled out so she didn’t have to testify. She didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about him, especially since so much else had happened in the past few years. Because a fifty year sentence was supposed to be fifty actual goddamn years in the federal system. She wanted to scream and yell and cry about injustice and indecency but what did it matter?
“I see,” she said.
“Rumor is he may have been involved with the Santos machine from the beginning,” Gabe said. “That the shooting might have been planned.”
Caroline hadn’t heard that rumor. She’d heard about other underhanded and illegal activities tied to the president, but this was news to her. Again, it was all relative. If a would-be congressional assassin was on some secret presidential payroll, the mainstream media would never call attention to it.
“If it helps, the Underground knows that story is complete bull,” Gabe said. “I guess you can hold onto that.”
Oh, yeah. That would be her metaphorical teddy bear. A fuzzy bit of cold fucking comfort while she tossed and turned trying to stifle her uncontrollable nightmares. Caroline remained unsure as to how anyone could be expected to wage a war of words or otherwise with a government that held so much sway over public opinion. “Do people have any clue as to what’s really going on?” she asked.
“If they do, they’re turning a blind eye unless it affects them directly.”
Given the smallest amount of so-called proof, they’d turn away even quicker. “What kind of documents did they show?”
“Evidence of overseas bank accounts.”
How interesting. She’d have to see if she could figure out which ones. Maybe Gabe could get her screenshots. Or she could view them for herself. Surely she could be allowed to do that. “The country doesn’t know what happened to me. What happened to the others.”
“No,” Gabe said. “Like I said, heads in the sand.”
“But that’s-”
She was going to say it was ridiculous, then realized it wasn’t. People saw what they wanted to see, heard what they wanted to hear. They’d readily believe the easiest story. An Occam’s Razor of ignorance. She’d always been warned that her idealism would turn into the worst kind of cynicism. Now she knew that had been an accurate assertion. Any scrap of her political romance with the American public was gone.
Gabe cleared his throat. “A lot has changed, if you’re paying attention. We’ve got rolling blackouts and brownouts in most metropolitan areas. The Santos Administration has blamed it on declining infrastructure but rumor is it’s part of some bigger plan. We’re not sure what. It might end up being a red herring but the Underground monitors all things. Most folks go about their business willfully ignoring the news or pretending that what they’re hearing isn’t true.”
“Why aren’t people more upset?” she asked. “The economy was falling apart a few months ago.”
“Santos came up with a brilliant plan to address any economic concerns. A tax credit.”
“A what?”
“He made all those cuts to government programs and all of a sudden there was all this revenue so he, you know, gave it back to the people.”
“That’s not a tax credit,” Caroline said. “That’s a payoff.”
Gabe laughed. “That was my interpretation.”
How incredibly fucking duplicitous. “Santos is into redistribution of wealth now?”
“Seemed to get the public off his back.”
Caroline wasn’t sure whether she should be more upset about the rank hypocrisy or about the fact that all the citizenry needed to be reassured was a small check and an empty smile. The Santos Administration’s genteel form of bribery had assuaged them in a manner that no honest political action ever could.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered.
“Yup,” Gabe said. “Another day in paradise.”
In other words, the economy hadn’t really improved. Santos had simply given himself more time to avoid any retribution, if any was coming at all. Unbelievable.
“Has the Underground had any effect?” Caroline asked. “Are there other media outlets? Twitter accounts, websites, anything?”
“None of them have gotten much traction,” Gabe said. “Those who have are shut down and wiped from the Internet.”
“But the Internet is forever.”
“Not anymore.”
This was some serious Orwellian shit. “Have you ever heard of Jan Karski?” she asked.
Gabe shook his head back and forth. Not surprising. She’d expected him to say no.
“Karski was a member of the Polish Underground during World War II,” Caroline said. “He helped smuggle documents detailing some of the horrors of the Holocaust to the United Kingdom. The officials he met with refused to believe that what he was describing was actually happening. Maybe they didn’t want to believe the worst. It wasn’t for lack of proof. Many of them were reluctant to act, even though we all know that they eventually did.”
“Think about where we are now,” she continued. “We’re more engaged in some ways but distant in others. We’re a disaffected society, unconcerned with the plight of our neighbors or of those we don’t know. You think if a Jan Karski were to show up now, anyone would believe him?”
“I don’t know. But he kept trying,” Gabe said. “Right?”
“Right,” Caroline agreed. “That’s what we’re going to do as soon as we get the chance. Do you know much about what’s going on in California?”
“No. I just know there’s something to be found. Not sure exactly what.”
Another unusually hopeful thought crossed her mind. Maybe she’d been asking the wrong questions. There was a possibility he’d neglected to mention any research he might have been able to do while she was recovering. Maybe things had changed. “Any word on who’s leading the rebellion?”
“Not a one. But we have to go west. It’s the only safe spot for you and Crunch. Even if the rebellion turns out to be nothing, your odds are better in California than anywhere else.”
Caroline bit her lip and turned away from him. What had she expected him to say? That her husband was rallying the troops to victory? Gabe would have told her straightaway if he’d been privy to such information. He’d all but confirmed that Jack was gone. And she’d all but forgotten that he’d done it earlier in their conversation. How disquieting.
Jack’s not in California, you chump. He’s dead. Stop holding onto foolish dreams.
She didn’t want to get caught up in memories again. Not now, when they plagued her in her sleep. She tried to maintain some sense of normalcy when she was awake.
“So,” she said. “What’s the plan for getting there?”
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “Not as easy as you’d think.”
Caroline tried not to laugh. “I didn’t assume it was going to be easy. Not with Crunch and me along for the ride.”
“It’s not that,” Gabe said. “We’ll find a way to make you inconspicuous. It’s hard to cross into California or Texas now. There aren’t border patrols or anything, but flying direct is out of the question.”
If Caroline could avoid getting on a plane, she’d take it. “What are we going to do?”
“Short version?”
“I guess.”
“Train to Chicago. I’ve got a buddy there who’s gonna help us out. Knows a trucker in Oklahoma who can get us into Texas. We’ll fly to Tijuana and cross over into California on foot.”
That seemed like a pretty damn long version to her, with plenty of opportunities for failure along the way. “Why not go through Canada?” she asked. “That was-”
That was what I tried to do with Jack.
Things were different now. Everyone she knew who’d tried to get to Canada had failed. Everything she mentioned to Gabe brought up thoughts of her husband. She didn’t want to walk down memory lane with those particular recollections at all.
“We thought of that,” Gabe said. “But it’s nearly impossible to cross the border into Canada unless you’ve got proper, detailed paperwork. And we aren’t going to have that. Not with our batch of fake IDs, convincing though they are. This plan has the greatest chance of success.”
Caroline didn’t see how that made sense at all, but maybe whoever he was plotting with had more connections than Gabe. “We’re going to sneak across the border?”
“Technically, we’re going to do it more than once.”
Great. Fucking great. “That sounds extremely risky.”
“We don’t have a lot of options.”
Though convoluted, it did seem like a very specific course of action. “You’ve got this all planned out.”
“Gig did most of it.”
“Gig?”
“My friend Steven. Most folks call him Gig. He’s my buddy in Chicago.”
She’d skimmed over that first part when he mentioned it. “We’re going to Chicago?”
“Yeah. Got friends there?”
For all of his devotion to her political career, Gabe was rather clueless about her background. Caroline swallowed hard. “That’s where I grew up. Don’t know if I have any friends there anymore. Is the train safe?”
“Safer than a plane. It’s expensive but we can swing it. We’ll make sure we don’t attract any attention either.”
The more she thought about it, the more she hated this plan. “We’re going to fly to Mexico?”
“Don’t like airplanes?”
Not so much. She hated puddle jumpers and tiny aircraft, and they wouldn’t be taking a 747 across the border. But coupled with everything else, the plane was the least troubling part of the journey. “I can get past it,” she said.
Gabe drummed his fingers on the table. “So, uh, Gig and I have mapped out most of the trip. We just need you to tell us where to go in California.”
“San Diego,” Caroline said. She waited for the follow up question. The request for specifics. But none came.
“All right.” Gabe got up and clapped his hands. “I’ll take care of it.”
* * * * *
The news was filled with lies. Dirty, dirty lies. Caroline used to watch the media with a critical eye, searching for the needle of truth that existed in a haystack of spin. After Santos took power, the truth became harder and harder to find. She assumed that everything she heard had been manipulated somehow. Transformed. Rewritten. The Orwellian overtones were deeper than she’d anticipated.
She’d been in a vacuum for months, only getting snippets of information from the guys, who were probably afraid to tell her the truth. She and Gabe hadn’t discussed much beyond the bare bones of their travel itinerary. Caroline hoped that this Gig person was open to change if things blew up in their faces. It was impossible to have concrete answers but they’d have to stay alert and be flexible once their journey began.
So even if it was heavily edited, she watched the news anyway. It was best to know what they were facing once they started making their trip from state to state and border to border, and secret message boards and word of mouth didn’t fully encompass the national mood.
She knew the Santos machine had done its job when some shaky footage flashed on the screen. A building she recognized instantly from her time as a member of Congress and occasional jaunts to D.C. for lunch and dinner dates with Christine. Half of the Dirksen Senate Office Building was gone. The commentator rambled on about anti-government rebels and ongoing inquiries while the camera zoomed in on dramatic pictures of people being dragged out of the rubble.
“The matter remains under investigation,” Gabe’s voice repeated behind her. It was late but he hadn’t left for work yet. “Yeah, right.”
“Has this been happening often?”
“They haven’t run a story like this in a while,” he said. “They did it more frequently before the big fake push to improve the economy.”
“They must have needed another distraction,” she said.
“No way the rebellion did this,” Gabe said. “No fucking way.”
She hadn’t thought so, but was glad he confirmed it. Even though it was becoming more and more apparent that he wasn’t as attuned to the movement as he had initially implied. Caroline pointed at the screen. “Who are those people?”
“New staffers, new Senate appointees, whatever.” Gabe muted the TV and took a seat next to her on the couch. “They claim there were elections to replace whatever senators fled the coop, but how can we know if they were valid?”
“The people counting the votes decide everything,” she said.
He shook his head. “Pretty much.”
She wasn’t quite sure how to phrase her next question. Every time they had a conversation she remembered about ten things she needed to ask him. “Is anyone from…before there?”
He didn’t look all that keen to answer her. “Not to my knowledge. But I don’t know what’s real and what’s fake.”
She stared down at her hands. It didn’t matter. The only two senators she cared about weren’t there. Weren’t anywhere. She tried so hard not to think about them. The friends who’d gotten her through so much before she betrayed them. With Ellen she could lock things down but with Chrissy…
Caroline stood up. “I’m going to call it a night,” she said.
Gabe looked puzzled. Usually she stayed up well after he and Jones left for work. “Uh, okay.”
“I’m tired,” she lied. She assumed he would have caught on to her sudden exits by now, but maybe he was pretending she was improving.
“Sleep well,” he said.
She could only shake her head as she walked down the hall. Not likely.