great.
“America, we have to get off our butts and get back to work, and when I’m your next president, that’s exactly what we’ll do!
“I’m going to take a quick break and be right back with you.”
Ben headed to the locker room and we traded places.
Sully and his crew lead me to the track between the field and the stadium where the crowd had gathered to shake the candidate’s hand.
Through my ear bud, I could hear the chatter between the agents as they cleared the way before us.
I really didn’t know what to expect from the crowd. Ben’s previous speeches had attacked the government, but this one was directed toward the man on the street.
The first guy to grab my hand said, “I’ve been on unemployment for four months. I can’t find a job and just hanging around the house is driving my wife and me crazy. I’d go to work in your program immediately.”
A woman told me, “There’s a vacant house two doors down from mine and the police are always there busting kids who have broken in to smoke pot. The neighbors have complained to the city, but we always get the same answer --- no money to either repair or tear the place down. I think you’re really onto something.”
Another guy said, “There’s a family in our building on welfare. The husband is as strong and healthy as me. It gripes my butt when I go off to work every day knowing that my hard-earned dollars are paying him to sit on his lazy ass.”
Ben was certainly gaining the respect of the middle class.
We had progressed to about the fifty-yard line when my ear bud popped, “GUN!”
Before I could react, Sully hit me like a Chiefs linebacker and I found myself flat on my back on the gritty track with all 230 pounds of Brian Sullivan spread-eagled on top of me.
I heard the impact as a round splattered into the concrete wall of the bleachers.
The impact had knocked the wind out of me and I was struggling to fill my lungs under his massive body.
“Lay still! Don’t move!” he ordered.
I really didn’t have much choice.
As I lay there, I could hear the screams of the frantic crowd as they rushed for cover.
I thought I might actually pass out under his weight, but in a few moments I heard, “Clear. Shooter’s gone.”
Sully rolled off of me and I filled my lungs with air.
The football stadium was total chaos. Police were trying to control the situation but there were just too many frightened people running for their lives.
When Mark had first told me about the job, I had half-jokingly referred to myself as a sitting duck.
Now I realized that I actually was.
CHAPTER 10
“The shot came from a grassy knoll on the other side of the football field,” one of the SS guys reported.
The ‘grassy knoll’ got my attention right away. If I remembered correctly, it was from a grassy knoll that President Kennedy was supposed to have been assassinated.
It had been a miracle that no one was hit. When Sully took me to the ground, the slug had whizzed between the heads of several well-wishers and slammed into the concrete wall behind us.
By the time that the SS guys had made it to the knoll, the shooter was long gone.
When we were all safely tucked away in our hotel rooms, Paul Ford called us all together.
When the team had gathered in Ben’s suite, Paul addressed the group.
“We now know that the death threats are no longer just speculation. Someone wants Ben Foster out of the picture.
“It could be a bureaucrat from the FDA, a disgruntled welfare recipient, or, God forbid, someone from the opposing campaign’s camp. Ben has pissed off a lot of people.
“We have a decision to make and it involves more than just Ben. If this campaign continues, it is not unreasonable to think that more attempts will be made
“America, we have to get off our butts and get back to work, and when I’m your next president, that’s exactly what we’ll do!
“I’m going to take a quick break and be right back with you.”
Ben headed to the locker room and we traded places.
Sully and his crew lead me to the track between the field and the stadium where the crowd had gathered to shake the candidate’s hand.
Through my ear bud, I could hear the chatter between the agents as they cleared the way before us.
I really didn’t know what to expect from the crowd. Ben’s previous speeches had attacked the government, but this one was directed toward the man on the street.
The first guy to grab my hand said, “I’ve been on unemployment for four months. I can’t find a job and just hanging around the house is driving my wife and me crazy. I’d go to work in your program immediately.”
A woman told me, “There’s a vacant house two doors down from mine and the police are always there busting kids who have broken in to smoke pot. The neighbors have complained to the city, but we always get the same answer --- no money to either repair or tear the place down. I think you’re really onto something.”
Another guy said, “There’s a family in our building on welfare. The husband is as strong and healthy as me. It gripes my butt when I go off to work every day knowing that my hard-earned dollars are paying him to sit on his lazy ass.”
Ben was certainly gaining the respect of the middle class.
We had progressed to about the fifty-yard line when my ear bud popped, “GUN!”
Before I could react, Sully hit me like a Chiefs linebacker and I found myself flat on my back on the gritty track with all 230 pounds of Brian Sullivan spread-eagled on top of me.
I heard the impact as a round splattered into the concrete wall of the bleachers.
The impact had knocked the wind out of me and I was struggling to fill my lungs under his massive body.
“Lay still! Don’t move!” he ordered.
I really didn’t have much choice.
As I lay there, I could hear the screams of the frantic crowd as they rushed for cover.
I thought I might actually pass out under his weight, but in a few moments I heard, “Clear. Shooter’s gone.”
Sully rolled off of me and I filled my lungs with air.
The football stadium was total chaos. Police were trying to control the situation but there were just too many frightened people running for their lives.
When Mark had first told me about the job, I had half-jokingly referred to myself as a sitting duck.
Now I realized that I actually was.
CHAPTER 10
“The shot came from a grassy knoll on the other side of the football field,” one of the SS guys reported.
The ‘grassy knoll’ got my attention right away. If I remembered correctly, it was from a grassy knoll that President Kennedy was supposed to have been assassinated.
It had been a miracle that no one was hit. When Sully took me to the ground, the slug had whizzed between the heads of several well-wishers and slammed into the concrete wall behind us.
By the time that the SS guys had made it to the knoll, the shooter was long gone.
When we were all safely tucked away in our hotel rooms, Paul Ford called us all together.
When the team had gathered in Ben’s suite, Paul addressed the group.
“We now know that the death threats are no longer just speculation. Someone wants Ben Foster out of the picture.
“It could be a bureaucrat from the FDA, a disgruntled welfare recipient, or, God forbid, someone from the opposing campaign’s camp. Ben has pissed off a lot of people.
“We have a decision to make and it involves more than just Ben. If this campaign continues, it is not unreasonable to think that more attempts will be made
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