Endurance

Deb had never been so terrified in her life.

A sea of eyes watched her, judged her. Deb turned and looked at Letti, who gave her an intense stare and a nod. Beside Letti was Maria, who mimicked Letti’s gesture.

Deb’s throat was dry. Her heart was beating so fast she felt ready to faint. The oppressive silence hurt her ears.

Then someone sneezed. A child. Deb glanced at the audience, saw it was the baby Maria and Felix had adopted, sitting on Felix’s lap. Next to them, Kelly was leaning forward in the pew. Kelly spoke silently, urgently, mouthing the words so Deb could read her lips.

“Say it!”

Deb looked down at her ridiculously expensive dress, the long train covering her prosthetics, making her appear completely normal. She looked at the minister, who was smiling patiently at her. Then she looked at Mal. So handsome in his tuxedo. So much love in his eyes.

And suddenly, Deb wasn’t scared anymore. With him by her side, she didn’t think she’d ever be scared again.

“I do,” she said.

Then she kissed him before the minister even had a chance to pronounce them man and wife.

# # #

Franklin Delano Roosevelt sat in the talking booth at West Virginia’s Northern Correctional Facility, waiting for his visitor. Franklin missed life on the outside. He missed the food. He missed sex with women. He even missed his job as hotel manager in Monk Creek. But most of all, he missed his Momma, and his kinfolk.

Prison life wasn’t so bad. The state gave him monthly transfusions, though they weren’t nearly as much fun as the ones he used to get at the Rushmore Inn. Franklin ran a tiny black market store within the walls, selling cigarettes, drugs, tattoo supplies, candy bars. After the Rushmore Massacre, as the papers had called it, Franklin inherited a tidy bit of money from his many dead siblings. And that didn’t count all the money Momma had stashed away. It was enough to hire a hotshot lawyer, who got his charges reduced from Murder to multiple counts of Accessory. Franklin got eight years, but would be out in four for good behavior.

Franklin’s mood brightened when Chester walked over and sat across from him. Chester B. Arthur Roosevelt was one of only five brothers still alive. The other four were wanted by the police, and had to stay in hiding. But Chester had bought hisself a swell fake ID, and the law couldn’t touch him.

“You find a place?” Franklin asked.

“Boardin’ house. Southern Georgia. Deep in the woods, outta the way. Big ole basement. Perfect for us.”

A boarding house? That would be easier to run than a bed and breakfast. Franklin never really warmed up to Momma’s plan for making the next President. All he really cared about was the fun he had with the women they caught.

At the prison, Franklin learned there was some newfangled chemical enzyme that turned regular blood into type O negative. That meant they didn’t have to be so picky and choosy. Now they could grab whoever they wanted.

“You buy it yet?” Franklin asked.

“Got the deed this week. Should have ‘er up ‘n runnin’ real soon. Be all ready for you when you get outta here. Have a nice bunch of sweet honeys all tied up and waitin’ for you.”

Franklin smiled. He’d already done a year of his sentence.

With this to look forward to, the next three would just fly on by.