The Church of Lorna

They didn’t scare me. It’s kind of hard to fear anything when you’re already dying.

The chants of the protestors were growing louder by the second; I could barely hear myself think. You might think stage two lung cancer would get anyone to stop smoking but, that’s quitter talk. I smoked my first pack when I was thirteen and I hadn’t gone a day without a cigarette since. It had become the principal ritual of my religion, the Church of Lorna.

The afternoon sun sparkled against the stone balcony that overlooked the throng of people below. A protest at the Capitol wasn’t breaking news, but the hoard of MAGA hats and “Don’t Tread On Me” signs outside was growing by the hour.

Don’t tread on me. Oddly, I could relate to that. I’d never been this close to a national news story as it was unfolding. An insider's perspective of these incredibly misguided people might be worth a Pultizer.

If I could just blend in with the crowd. I rolled my eyes at how impressively bad that idea was.

“I’m sure the Black chick with box-braids wouldn’t stand out at all,” I muttered to myself.

Bzzzz!

My phone vibrated. I let out a sigh as I looked down at the screen.

“Lorna, I just got a tip that the mob’s getting out of hand at the Capitol. What’s the situation?” The text read. Our editor didn’t keep tabs on all of our reporters, just the women, and he rode me the hardest. I couldn’t help but think that me being the only black reporter on staff had something to do with it. He was an old white dude from a good ole boys club that went back decades at the paper.

I should probably get back to the rotund-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I jumped and turned around to see a Capitol police officer knocking on the glass door to the third floor hallway. The look in his eyes was one of fear and panic. His voice was muffled through the glass, but his face communicated more than his words ever could. It only said one thing: “Run, bitch!”

I dropped my cigarette and yanked open the door to the hallway, but the officer was already halfway down the long corridor of congressional suites.

“What the fuck is going on?!” I shouted.

“The protestors got into the Capitol! Get somewhere safe. Now!” He said before vanishing down a flight of steps.

His goofy ass didn’t even say where to go!

Moments later I could hear them. The protestors were getting close. I ran down the hallway and tried to open the first door I came across. It was locked.

Angry voices and the sound of boots scuffing the Capitol’s marbled floors were echoing off the walls, growing louder and louder with each passing moment. I ran to the next office and yanked at the doorknob. Locked again. This time I knocked.

“Help! I’m a reporter, if someone’s there please let me in!”

Silence.

What were only mutterings and disembodied shouts before, were becoming distinct voices.

I heard a man say, “Find ‘em, they’re here!”

I continued down the hall until I found the next door. My heart was pumping a million miles a minute and my hands shook as I reached for the knob.

I can see the headlines now, I thought. “Reporter With Lung Cancer Gets Trampled by Mob on Smoke Break.” God has a twisted sense of humor.

I turned the knob and it flung open with an intensity I didn’t intend. I careened inside the office and fell over a chair that sent me sprawling to the floor. If I hadn’t been scared shitless, I might have had the wherewithal to be embarrassed.

An older white man in a dark suit and red tie was sitting at a large oak desk. Startled, he threw his hands over a little black notebook he was writing in. A strange response for sure, but he could have started doing the Tootsie Roll and I wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t know it yet, but he might have just saved my life. The look of shock on his face only lasted a moment before turning sour with anger.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of my office!”

“I’m sorry, I’m a reporter for the-“ I started.

“Oh? In that case--get the fuck out of my office! What paper do you work for? I’m going to have your job by the end of the day!”

The man stood up from his chair and walked towards me, but it didn’t take long for the shouts coming from the hallway to steal his attention.

“The protestors got inside the Capitol, I need somewhere to hide!” I replied.

I realized I recognized him. He was a congressman from…Idaho? Nebraska? I couldn’t remember, which is pretty sad considering my profession. It was definitely one of the farming states. He’d recently been making quite a name for himself as one of the few QAnon supporting members of congress, but he didn’t seem to be any less scared of the mob in the hallway. He shot past me and slammed the door shut while his eyes scanned the room.

“Well make yourself useful at least, help me push my desk against the door!”

In that moment I wanted a cigarette, just so I could put it out between his stupid beady eyes. Although, it was comforting to see that my bad luck with men wasn’t restricted to my dating life. I thought it made the world fairer somehow. I picked myself up from the ground and “helped” him push the heavy oak desk, although it seemed like I did most of the pushing. It took all my strength, and the moment we got it to the door-

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Let us in or we’re gonna bust this door down!” A voice shouted.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

I collapsed to the floor in a combination of relief, fear, and exhaustion. The congressman rolled his eyes at the demand. I could see he was scared, but he seemed annoyed more than anything else. The protestors pounded on the door for a while but it didn’t take long for them to lose interest and move on. The congressman’s cell-phone rang. He straightened up his tie, cleared his throat and answered the phone.

“What the fuck is happening right now?! This is too soon, you were supposed to wait until-”

The congressman looked over as if he suddenly remembered I was in the room.

“Hold on,” he said into the phone before bounding to the bathroom on the other side of his suite.

I didn’t think much of it. The mounted flatscreen across from his desk was turned to a cable news station:

THE PRESIDENT: “This election is a complete farce. We have to stop this if we want to save our dem-”

I tried to tune it out. I could barely focus on my own thoughts, let alone listen to that man make up stories about what was happening here. That’s when it hit me, the idea struck me like lightning.

This is it! This is the story! If I play my cards right, this terrifying experience can be the story that saves my life!

Goodbye shitty salary. Goodbye shittier benefits. I could pay for the chemo expenses my crappy insurance wouldn’t cover. If I was lucky, maybe I’d even get an office with a door before it was all said and done.

THE PRESIDENT: “This is the most beautiful rally there’s ever been. I know that you guys love me, but I know you love this country even more.”

“I better start writing down what’s happening before I forget the details…” I muttered. I patted my pocket for a pen but all my things were back in the rotunda. I looked over at the congressman’s desk and saw the book and pen he was writing with when I burst into his office. I picked them up and flipped to the first empty page. In the background, the President’s voice continued to grate against my nerves.

THE PRESIDENT: “They’re going to call you terrorists, but that’s a lie! They’re going to say-”

Ok. Where should I start? “I was outside on a smoke break when a slew of terrorizing Kens and Karens stormed the Capitol building,” I wrote.

THE PRESIDENT: “I was outside on a smoke break when a slew of terrorizing Kens and Karens stormed the Capitol building!”

My eyes darted to the television… the President cleared his throat and took a sip of water.

THE PRESIDENT: “That’s how they’ll try to characterize you! You can’t let ‘em”

Did he just...Nahhh. I’m imagining things.

“I sheltered in place in a congressional suite with the asshole congressman from the great state of (find out later),” I wrote.

THE PRESIDENT: “We’re going to march to the capitol! And I-I sheltered in place in a congressional suite with the asshole congressman from the great state of (find out later)”

My jaw went slack as my brain tried, in futile, to understand what was happening.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I looked up to see the congressman standing in the bathroom doorway on the other side of the suite. He was staring at the notebook in my hand.

“What the hell is this? I think-I think the President just said what I wrote down in this book! What the hell is going on?” I shouted.

The congressman held his hands up like I was pointing a gun at him. He began walking slowly towards me. I could see the sweat forming on his brow.

“You’re imagining things. Now... just set the book down woman. I don’t want to have to hurt you,” he said.

“Don’t come any closer, tell me what’s going on!”

“Or what?” The congressman replied.

I was trapped. The only exit was blocked by the congressman’s desk and there were no windows or other doors. The congressman bolted forward. He was slow and clumsy but he outweighed me by at least fifty pounds. Unfortunately for him, I was born in Detroit. As he charged in I stepped back and hit him with an uppercut. It surprised him more than it hurt, but while he was stunned and off balance, I tripped him and pushed him to the ground.

It had been years since I practiced Jiu-Jitsu. I only remembered a few moves that my ex taught me, but that was all I needed. As soon as the congressman hit the ground I jumped on top of him and put him in an arm-bar. I was rusty, but the agony in his face as I bent his elbow backwards told me that I applied it well enough.

“Ahhh! I give up-I give up!” He screamed. “Listen… I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you just forget what you saw and give me back that book. Just-just get off me!”

I paused for a moment. Sure, this situation was definitely nefarious, probably bordering evil... but white America’s gonna have to figure this one out on its own. Ten thousand dollars would solve a lot of my problems, and I could still tell my story. I let go of the congressman’s arm and we both scrambled to our feet. We stared at each other while we dusted ourselves off, breathing heavily for several seconds.

“So where’s the money?”

The congressman walked over to a safe nestled in his bookcase. He entered a code and when the safe opened, I saw a giant stack of banded bills. He reached in, picked out ten and handed them to me. I looked at the safe, and then looked back at him.

“Better make it twenty.”