Latest Flash

In The Bunker

On election day, when people tell you to vote your conscience,

Do you ever wonder what goes on in the minds of those who don't have one?

In The Bunker by Hilary Davidson



Why did I ever want to be president? Looking back on it, I’ll be honest: it was for the pussy.

You get these guys, real egghead types, who want to pin it down to me being insulted by a speech Obama gave, like I care what people say about me. Like some uppity Kenyan in mom jeans can get under my skin. My only regret is that I didn’t take him out when I had the chance. Not because he was part of the coup against me — that was all Republican establishment — but because… well, do I need a reason? After everything he did to me, okay? Anyway, he snuck his whole family outta the country, got them all the way to Hawaii, before the bombs started falling. Smart enough when it came to saving his own skin, I’ll give him that.

But what I was saying before, about becoming President. I planned to do that my whole life. That was like Plan B after I built my ten-billion-dollar empire. Those suckers who go into public service young, they earn nothing. Crooked Hillary Clinton’s speeches for Wall Street? Chump change. Please! They don’t know real money. I do, and there’s nobody like me. That’s why I put my name on all my buildings. You know what the worst day of my life was? When they blew up Trump Tower on Fifth Avenue. I mean, there are other things I miss about New York — Wollman Rink and Tiffany’s and that restaurant with those fancy donuts, those little ones with the jam inside, only it was better than jam. Anyway, when the Mexicans wiped New York off the map, it was goodbye Trump Tower, and that was an awfully hard day for me. You work all your life for greatness, and somebody robs you of your crown jewel in a heartbeat. And not just anybody, but a backstabbing loser I elevated out of the trash heap. Backstabbing Mike Pence.

I should’ve seen it coming. He was a sickly little weasel. First time I laid eyes on him, I told Melania he was the crypt-keeper. She didn’t get it, but Ivanka did, of course. That reminds me, when I talk to Vladimir tomorrow, I need to tell him to get Melania to watch that show with the crypt keeper, the one who looks like Backstabbing Mike Pence. Maybe it doesn’t matter now, since he’s dead, but it always bugs me when Melania doesn’t get my jokes.

Of course that weasel wanted to be president! I should’ve smelled it a mile off, especially since all those stuffed-shirt GOP types thought he was God’s gift to the party. Like that shifty weasel was going to keep me in line! There was never anything good in those squinty eyes of his. But I took him for a pansy who could take orders. Honestly, I never thought he’d have the balls to try to take me down.

Hey did you hear that? I think the bombs are close, real close. But don’t worry, this is the best bunker in the country. The safest. Not that any of the generals told me about it. Of course, they were all in league with shifty squinty Backstabbing Mike Pence. Well, I took care of them. Chop, chop. And before you say anything about that guillotine being made in China, I got it as a gift, okay? Vladimir sent it over just before my inauguration. He wrote me a funny note with it, too. “For when things go bad.” Who could’ve imagined everything that happened going down so fast? But it was proof this country needs a strong leader. When those loser generals supported Backstabbing Mike Pence, they lost their heads. Ha, ha, do you get it? Because of the guillotine, I mean. I think even Melania might get that. Chop, chop!

Anyway, this will all be over soon. Backstabbing Mike Pence is taking a dirt nap and all his dirty Mexican hombres are going to hell with him. I swear, I should’ve built the wall my first day in office. But I was busy posing for my first Presidential portraits, a whole series of them, so I wouldn’t have to keep looking at all those dead guys in white powdered wigs. Who could’ve guessed I’d have such a crazy first week in office? I almost had a heart attack when Ivanka and Melania and my boys just vanished one day. Then, suddenly, there’s a note telling me to resign or else they die. Let me tell you, there is nobody, nobody, who loves his family like I do. I barely knew which way to turn because, well, the only people I trust are family. Not that you can ever completely trust anyone, but blood is as close as you get. Look how quickly everyone else turned on me! So when Vladimir found them in Mexico and brought them to an undisclosed location, I was grateful. At least, I think he found all of them. Not one-hundred-percent sure about Tiffany, now that I think about it. Anyway, it meant I was finally free to take care of business, like dealing with Backstabbing Mike Pence. Vladimir’s people had proof he and his GOP cronies were behind it all. I tell you, there are no interrogators like those KGB guys. Trust me. So I took action and I took all of them out, like, literally, in a day. It was the guillotine for Backstabbing Mike Pence and some of the generals, guns and bombs for the rest.

Then, next thing I know, Mexico’s invading. Who even knew Mexico had nukes? I don’t remember hearing that in the security briefing. They were so sneaky, too. I got a call from Sarah Palin, I call her Cuckoo Bird Sarah, by the way. Anyway, she said, “You know how I can see Russia from my house? I think they’re invading!” And so I called Vladimir, and he told me what was up. These dirty, sneaky Mexicans dressed up in Russian military uniforms, and they’re invading! I mean, I had them pissing their pants during the election. Did I think they’d have the balls to invade in my third week in office? No, but by then the generals were all dead or in hiding, so it’s not like I was getting good military advice, okay? Except from Vladimir, obviously. Man’s like a brother to me. You know, he told me I have the keenest military mind since General Patton and General MacArthur. He sent some advisors over, including some ladies who, I swear, if there was a Pussy Olympics, they’d all be gold medalists. Anyway, they got me to this great bunker, and now I’m just waiting for our Russian allies to deal with the dirty, sneaky Mexicans.

I really made history in my first month in office, didn’t I? Told you I would. And it’s all gonna work out. Every morning I get a call from Vladimir, and sometimes he puts Ivanka on the phone. “Just do exactly what Mr. Putin says, Daddy,” she tells me. “It will all work out.” You know what? My little girl wouldn’t steer me wrong. When this war is over, there’s going to be a building blitz like you’ve never seen. Trump Towers everywhere. Entire Trump cities. They’ll rename the country after me. Forget making America great again. I’m gonna make Trumpistan the greatest country in the world.


Hilary Davidson is the author of the Lily Moore mystery series, which includes the Anthony Award-winning The Damage Done, The Next One to Fall, and Evil in All Its Disguises. Her latest novel is the hardboiled standalone Blood Always Tells, published by Tor/Forge. Her short stories have won the Derringer and Spinetingler awards, and appear everywhere from Thuglit to Ellery Queen. Visit her online at www.hilarydavidson.com