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been dry for almost a month, and every proposal submitted with a solution to the problem had to pass through this committee, of which Congressman Jones happened to be chairman. Every other solution had been denied except his.
     
    “Congressmen, your concerns have been noted, but the fact is the rest of the country will be in a similar condition if we don’t do something now. Texas is barely holding together, and the Midwest is barely producing enough food to feed the country. Drastic times call for drastic measures,” Jones said.
     
    “The president said—”
     
    “I’m well aware of what the president said, and so are his advisers.”
     
    The others were silent. Jones rested his elbows on the table, folding his long, slender fingers together. He flashed his pearly white, veneer smile. The plastic surgery hid most of the lines and creases in his face except when he smiled. That was when his age showed, revealing the crinkling corners of his eyes and mouth.
     
    The Southwest had been a drain on the country for years now. It was sucking what few resources the country had left. Jones wanted to cut their losses.
     
    “Once we have all of our strategic points set up, we’ll be making the official announcement. Until then, air traffic is grounded, and martial law will keep the local populations from going anywhere. All we have to do now is keep our fortitude,” Jones said.
     
    “You’re sick,” Smith said.
     
    “I know this is a difficult decision, but when we leave this room, we can’t have any doubts. It’s important for us to move forward as a unit. That’s why we have our representatives from the Southwest with us now.”
     
    Those that were considered key politicians from California, Colorado, Arizona, Nevada, Utah, and New Mexico were present. All of them had their heads down, ashamed to look anyone in the eye.
     
    “This meeting is adjourned,” Jones said.
     
    Jones smacked the gavel, and the congressmen in the room ran out like cockroaches running from the heel of a boot. Only Congressman Smith lingered behind. He waited until the room had emptied before he spoke.
     
    “You’re not going to get away with this,” Smith said.
     
    Jones rose from his chair, buttoning the jacket of his suit. He adjusted the American flag pin on his lapel and walked around the end of the table where Smith stood.
     
    “Everyone’s on board, Smith. This is for the good of the nation, to ensure the rest of us survive, including you and your family,” Jones said.
     
    “I’ll keep fighting this,” Smith said.
     
    Jones put his arm on Smith's shoulder. The smile faded from his face. The pressure of his thin fingers pierced Smith's suit like needles on a pincushion.
     
    “Then I will run you over and toss your corpse to the side of the road on my way to your family's house,” Jones said.
     
    Jones readjusted his tie then plastered on his winning politician’s smile and headed out into the corridors of the capitol.

 
     
    ***
     
    Smith's staff could barely keep up with him as he hurried down the capitol steps. Both of them were on their cell phones, their thumbs moving rapidly across the screens.
     
    “I want to start back channeling immediately. I don't know how Jones managed to sway the others to support this bill, but he's not the only one with a voice in Congress,” Smith said.
     
    His personal assistant, Jake, adjusted his glasses, keeping stride with Smith. Jake stood a good six inches taller than Smith. His large frame made him stand out like a sore thumb and made him quite a sight to see in his suit, which, despite his size, always looked too big for him. 
     
    Jake had been with the congressman for more than three years now. He had played a pivotal role in his reelection two years ago, and since then he hadn't left Smith's side.
     
    “We can set up meetings as early as this afternoon. I know a key state in the vote will be North Carolina,” Jake said.
     
    “I'll start drafting a