text: “Mr. President, what do you say about people suffering in the Midwest, about rumors of a virus that causes paranoia and fear?” The room became hushed waiting for the response. The president rubbed his forehead, his cheeks had grown pale, “We have it totally under control. Everyone just needs to relax. As long as we stay calm, we can get through this.” The reporter responded, “But sir, some states have gone completely dark. Isn’t it true the military has been deployed to combat this threat? You previously stated that it’s just a pandemic of headaches and that quote, ‘this should be of no concern.’ Wouldn’t it be wise to address the frightening reports that this is actually some sort of parasite?“ The plump man at the podium fidgeted with his hands and licked his lips. The press secretary glanced cautiously at the man and saw sweat at the back of his neck. As usual this was not going well. If the president’s mouth was too dry, he would start losing his words. “That’s all fake information circulated by ‘Mrs. Dingbat’ in the Senate. Next question.” The president seemed to hold back a sneeze with his hand, lowering his head and convulsing. Tiffany nearly stepped in with a tissue until he spoke again, “Listen uh, you can’t really expect the American people to believe there’s some crazy species of insect, borrowing into people’s ears and eating out their brains. What kind of ridiculous bull-nonsense is that?” Tiffany looked out into the press conference and saw an awkward, spiteful audience. She was glad she wasn’t asked to speak. The last time didn’t go over well for her. If only she had the president’s talent for political aversion. The reporters shuffled in their seats. They came here for information. They came here for guidance but all they ever got from the president were angry retorts. He shook his head at the podium as several outlets started to shout his name in unison. It was an uncontrollable tremble that turned into a sneezing fit. He tried to cover his mouth but the phlegm couldn’t be contained and sprayed into the crowd of reporters. His head started to swell with redness. Choking and quivering he tried to continue, “I am here to tell you that there is no such -blargh-” The president tried to vomit out words but instead vomited blood and bile onto the podium. Reporters gasped and bolted towards the door. To their further horror the blood retching from the president’s mouth grew into a tentacle that squirmed, as he lowered his head to the stand. He squinted in pain, his eyes started to bulge and bleed. As a stampede of reporters moved back the president gargled and moaned, his fingers pulling at the parasite. His eyes rolled back and exploded with pus. Shouts and screams added to the pandemonium. Tiffany and the medical aides tried to move in but were disgusted by the turn of events. Even more so by the insect legs that protruded from the president’s eyes and nose. The staff members hesitated, not knowing what to do. They remained in shock, allowing the scene to unfold. The creature pulled itself from the president’s face, splitting it down the middle and sending viscera onto the now-empty seats. More revulsion and screams echoed. The press secretary stood aghast, considering if this was sort of horrific prank or animatronic visual effect. She turned to an aide, “Where is the president?” He turned and looked at the slumped body, hanging off the podium, “He’s...everywhere.” --- “Surprisingly his approval rating has gone up.” The aide at Tiffany’s side was flipping through a tablet with nervous fingers. “People are donating like crazy. They think it was some kind of show.” Tiffany was still debating what she had seen and wondering if it was an elaborate scheme. If it’s not then perhaps it was a ploy for the left to grab for power. If that were the case the vice president would be next. “We should take this threat seriously. Medical experts have quarantined the briefing room and are taking samples after the secret service shot the thing.” Said the male aide. The halls were chaos, people were running towards the briefing room. “Why did this have to happen during a public briefing? There’s no time to do a damage assessment.” The press secretary was scrolling through her phone, reading all the conspiracies. This was the best outcome, thought Tiffany, leaving the public confused and unknowing of the truth, whatever that was. The aide -Stephen, was it? -- nearly started stuttering, his cadence became manic, “We should -- We should consider a mandate. No, not a mandate. Maybe have the White House staff dress in protective gear. I hear the virus is 70% contagious.” “If the president says the virus is a hoax then it’s a hoax.” Said Tiffany. “Going against what he has publicly stated would be job suicide. We all need to make sacrifices for the cause, even if it’s our own beliefs.” “Said. He said the virus is a hoax.” Stephen whispered when they passed several lobbyists. “He’s not dead. There’s no way that was real. The president is probably behind a control room laughing his ass off.” Stephen paused and remained blank faced. “Do you really believe that the left could be killing of hundreds just to get to the president? What would be the goal, if they were killing off their own supporters?” Tiffany turned and stared at the aide, a look forlorn. She quickly straightened up and gave a stern reply, “You wouldn’t want him hearing that. Get me Gruber Finch. We have to control the media’s response to this. We don’t even know what we saw and neither should the public. Tell him to tell them that this was a Halloween gag, or a movie thing. They don’t get to be the judge of what really happened.” Being a spokeswoman for the campaign didn’t prepare her for this. Nothing ever could have prepared her for this. After all her position in the cabinet had been a gift. She wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize it. An arm grabbed her and pulled her into a side office. The voice was aggressive and had an odor of whiskey. “Tell me this is some insane joke. What was that?” She recognized the three-piece breast suit. Her phone nearly dropped out of her hand. The Chief of Staff had a furled brow. “I’m sorry sir, we are currently evaluating the situation. We believe it to be a hoax.” “A hoax? A damn creature crawled out of the president’s head. Are you blind? What more evidence do you need?” As usual he was eyeing her blouse, clearly not distracted enough. “The speculation that there is no virus is true. It is also now fact that there is a parasite invading our citizens’ bodies, causing headaches, paranoia, and sudden death. The president has ignored this threat for too long. You should have been up there, not him.” Tiffany pulled up her blouse, covering her cleavage. She should have worn something less revealing. “I’m going to go back to my apartment to quarantine. You should too. The vice president is going to hold a virtual meeting with the cabinet. We should all distance ourselves from this.” “How can we?” Asked the Chief of Staff, “CNT aired a story about how the president made a statement, saying the virus was a hoax. A 13-year-old in Georgia picked up the president’s quote and made a blog post about it. Then the president used this article in another social media post, quoting it as fact. This is how the cycle of misinformation is unfolding.” She didn’t have an answer for this and tried to refocus the conversation, “Mistakes may have been made but it is our duty to create the appropriate mediation. Ours together, not a part. In the meantime, we should work with vice president to continue doing what we always do: deflect and distract.” --- The meeting, from her apartment, did not go as expected. There was a lot of shouting and panicked opinions, none of which were made from reasonable thoughts. But, how could they? The news media ran with the story that the president had been infected with a parasite that evacuated from his face. It was an absurd notion but the inevitable had to be dealt with. Tiffany had downed six aspirin after hanging up with the president’s cabinet and had slumped down in a chair. The strategies were mind-numbing. One of the aides had even suggested finding a look-alike to give a briefing but when the others realized that no one could be found that resembled his appearance this was soon abandoned. This mess would never end. She partially wished that she believed that the president had died and that the virus or parasite was real. That way she’d have a lot less to say. She approached the mirror but she couldn’t get the thought of the president squirming over the podium out of her head. The pounding was getting worse. It became a thumping. The aspirin was useless. Flashbacks started, showing the blood-stained floor and what must’ve been going through his mind in those last moments. If of course any of it were real. But what if it were real? Spores would’ve been spraying from his open mouth for days. And if it was contagious... She moved her finger around her eyes. Nothing felt puffy or sore. Sure, her head felt tight but it couldn’t be real, could it? A terrible creature living inside her, waiting for the right moment to burst from her skull. It was silly. Her face was too pretty to be broken. If all of it were true, if the parasite was inside her brain, she couldn’t allow herself to be another victim. The media would have a field day with her corpse, the liberals would dance and celebrate. Her life became meaningless in that moment. She had never dated as the press secretary and now she wish she had. Her head cracked with a sudden jolt. Her eyes became moist. A grimace crossed her once perfect face. There were no options left. She pulled a piece of paper out and a pen from her briefcase. Tears made it hard to write but she did it anyways. She had always managed to push through pain. As the words of regret came out the tears of sorrow turned to blood and the last phrase became smeared. “I wished I had trusted someone else.” The back of her throat started to tickle. Her skin and cheeks burned hot. She could feel the pressure building and building. The lights of DC cast and eerie glow on the room that reminded her that life would continue on without her. She pulled out a heavy piece of metal. The one thing that all right-thinking, God-fearing citizens had, and sat on the bed. The president’s retching face came back to her. She put the metal in her mouth and pulled the trigger.