could see him waving his fists and shouting something, but she couldn't tell what it was. He came rushing toward her, but something was wrong. The rifle was aimed in her direction. The next gunshot rang out and hit the backside of the house.
“Holy shit!” Beth said, almost tripping over herself as she ran as fast as she could in her heels to her car.
The man's screaming was becoming louder. Another gunshot went off, and the dirt to her left exploded into the air from the bullet that struck it.
“Jesus Christ!” Beth yelled.
Beth reached into her purse and ripped her keys out. She fumbled them in her hand while making it to the driver’s-side door of her car. The man shooting at her was running through the front yard now, still aiming his rifle at her.
Before she could stick the key into the door lock, the barrel of the man's rifle was in her face. Beth held her hands up, the keys still dangling from her fingers.
“What the hell are you doing on my property?”
Beth could smell the booze on him. His face was bearded, and he had long, matted strands of gray hair. His clothes were stained and torn.
“My name is Beth Fryar. I'm a member of Congressman Smith's staff,” Beth said.
The end of the rifle's barrel made contact with Beth's blouse, flattening her against the car door.
“The same congressman that tried to help Dr. Edwin Carlson pass his filtration process in Washington,” Beth added.
The man's shoulders went slack, and the rifle lowered a bit, but it was still aimed at Beth's stomach. Beth straightened herself, flattened out her suit jacket, and tilted her head up. She knocked the rifle's barrel away from her, and it fell to the man's side.
“Are you Dr. Carlson?” Beth asked.
The man wobbled on his feet, and he used the rifle as a cane to help steady himself.
“Once upon a time,” Dr. Carlson said.
Past the dirty clothes, wild hair, and dark circles under his eyes Beth could see the dim spark of intelligence.
“Well, I'm here to speak with you about restarting your research. Congressman Smith will be reintroducing the bill to allow your filtration process to be used around the country,” Beth said.
Dr. Carlson wheezed in a gasping laugh. Beth could smell his rancid breath, and she backed up as he continued the hacking chuckle until he was bent over with tears running down his face.
“Once the bill is passed, we'll need to start producing the water as quickly as possible. The country's in a dire state, Doctor,” Beth said.
Dr. Carlson wiped the tears from his eyes, holding his stomach, still struggling to keep his balance.
“Lady, the country isn't in a dire state. It's dead,” Dr. Carlson said.
Dr. Carlson turned around, dragging the rifle through the dirt of his front yard, barely able to keep his head from hitting the ground.
“I don't think you understand what's going on here,” Beth said.
“As long as Congressman Jones is still in office, which I know he is, your congressman's bill will never see the light of day,” Dr. Carlson said.
Beth yanked the rifle from the doctor's limp grip, pinned him against the front wall of the house, and aimed the gun at him.
“Listen, I don't know how long you've been drinking yourself to death, but I need you to march inside that house, put on a pot of coffee, and sober up. This plan only works if you're able to recreate the filtration process, and you can't do that stinking drunk,” Beth said.
“And what if I don't? Are you going to shoot me?” Dr. Carlson asked.
Beth slammed the lever of the rifle down, loading a bullet into the chamber, then placed her finger on the trigger.
“Then I’ll go home and sleep like a baby,” Beth said.
Dr. Carlson's smile faded from his face. He squinted at her, trying to focus on the situation at hand.
“You know, I think I do remember you,” Dr. Carlson said. “You were