Chapter 11: Did it in heels, I'd love to see you try (61 days)

The alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., piercing the darkness. I barely registered it before I felt Doug's hand on my arm.

"You need to get up," he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.

I exhaled slowly, pushing myself up. My body ached with exhaustion, but there was no time to indulge it. The days were moving fast, too fast, and there was too much at stake.

Today would be a balancing act—campaign stops, policy meetings, and fulfilling my responsibilities as Vice President. Some days, the line between the two blurred, but today, I had to be both Candidate Harris and Vice President Harris, seamlessly shifting between roles.

As I got ready, I scanned the morning briefing Lorraine had sent at 3:00 a.m. Trump was still pushing the voter suppression lie, but our rapid response team had been effective in countering it. On the legislative side, Congress was locked in yet another battle over reproductive rights, with Senate Republicans attempting to pass a nationwide abortion ban. The bill wouldn't make it through the Democratic-controlled Senate, but it was a statement of intent—and a chilling preview of what a second Trump term could look like.

By 5:15 a.m., I was in the motorcade, heading toward the White House. The streets of D.C. were quiet, still waking up, but my mind was already racing through the day ahead.

—

By 6:00 a.m., I was in the Situation Room, seated across from the President's National Security Advisor, senior intelligence officials, and top military aides. This was my first briefing of the day, and though my campaign schedule was demanding, my role as Vice President didn't pause.

"Madam Vice President," one of the intelligence officers began, "we have an update on the developing situation in the Middle East."

I straightened in my chair, taking in the classified intelligence. A surge in tensions between Iran and Israel had put the region on high alert, and the administration was monitoring the situation closely. There were also concerns about Russian interference in the upcoming election—covert online campaigns, disinformation tactics. It was all familiar, but no less urgent.

"Have we issued a formal response yet?" I asked, flipping through the classified reports.

"The State Department is drafting a statement," an aide responded.

"Make sure it's strong," I said. "No ambiguity. And on election security, I want a meeting with CISA this afternoon. I need a full update on what they're seeing."

The discussion continued for another half hour. I couldn't afford to be distracted, no matter how much my campaign weighed on me. Being Vice President meant carrying the weight of the world even as I fought for the future of this country.

—

At 7:15 a.m., I was back in my West Wing office, dialing into a call with Democratic Senate leaders.

"We need to hammer home the stakes of this election," I said, my voice sharp. "Trump and his allies aren't just making noise—they're laying the groundwork for a nationwide abortion ban. If they take back power, they'll pass it. No question."

Senator Patty Murray, a longtime advocate for reproductive rights, sighed. "We're mobilizing, but we need the White House to be louder about this."

"We will be," I promised. "I'll address it directly at today's rally, and we'll push out a video response before the weekend. This isn't just a legislative fight—it's a fight for every woman in this country."

The call ended, but my mind was still turning over the implications. If Trump won, Roe wouldn't just be overturned—it would be buried.

—

By 8:00 a.m., I had shifted gears fully into campaign mode. Lorraine, Adam, and senior advisors were waiting for me in the campaign's D.C. headquarters. The conference room was buzzing with energy, laptops open, charts displayed on the big screen.

"We have a major ad buy going live today," Lorraine began. "Targeting swing voters in Arizona, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin. It's a mix of digital and TV spots—messaging is focused on Trump's economic failures and threats to democracy."

I nodded. "What's our ground game looking like?"

"We're scaling up," Adam said. "After yesterday's rally in Vegas, we saw a spike in volunteer sign-ups. We're launching a new grassroots fundraising push tonight, and our organizers are ramping up in battleground states."

"Good," I said, scanning the numbers. "I want to see our messaging get sharper. Trump is flooding the airwaves with lies—we need to drown him out with the truth."

Lorraine smirked. "We've got a new attack ad in the works. We'll send it to you for approval later today."

"Make sure it's brutal," I said.

—

At 9:30 a.m., I was seated in front of a camera for an interview with CNN. The topic? The GOP's push for a nationwide abortion ban.

The interviewer wasted no time getting to the point. "Madam Vice President, Senate Republicans are moving forward with legislation that would outlaw abortion nationwide. What's your response?"

"My response?" I leaned forward, my voice steady but forceful. "This is exactly what we've been warning about. Donald Trump and his allies don't believe in freedom. They want to control women's bodies, strip away our rights, and dictate our futures. And if they win in November, they'll do it."

"And what is the White House prepared to do?"

"We're fighting back," I said. "President Biden and I are committed to protecting reproductive rights. But let's be honest—this isn't just about policy. This is about the Supreme Court Trump built, the extremist movement he's emboldened. The only way to stop them is at the ballot box."

The interview wrapped up, and within minutes, clips were already spreading online. My words were being dissected, debated. But I knew the message had landed.

—

At 11:00 a.m., I was in a private Zoom meeting with Barack Obama. He had been one of my strongest allies, lending his voice to the campaign at critical moments.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, his face calm and measured.

"I'm running on fumes," I admitted with a small smile. "But I'm not stopping."

He chuckled. "Good. Because this fight is winnable, Kamala. You just need to keep hammering the message—especially with Black voters. We can't take their support for granted."

"I know," I said. "I'm planning a major event in Georgia next week to mobilize turnout."

He nodded approvingly. "Good. And don't be afraid to go after Trump even harder. He's unraveling, and you need to make sure the American people see it."

As the call ended, I felt a renewed sense of determination. Obama was right—Trump was unraveling. And I had every intention of making sure the country saw it.

—

By noon, I was back in my office, grabbing a quick bite to eat between meetings. Doug had sent me a text: Proud of you. Keep going.

I smiled, taking a deep breath. The morning had been relentless, but the fight was far from over.

There were 61 days left. And I was just getting started.

I had exactly 14 minutes to eat before my next meeting. I used seven of them scrolling through my VP phone, catching up on the latest headlines. The morning's CNN interview was already making waves—progressives were praising my directness, while conservatives were, predictably, calling me "radical."

I smirked. If believing women should have control over their own bodies made me a radical, then so be it.

At precisely 12:30 p.m., Lorraine knocked on my office door. "Time for the CISA briefing," she said.

I set my phone down and stood. "Let's go."

—

The meeting was held in the White House Situation Room, where officials from the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA) and the Department of Homeland Security were already seated, waiting.

I settled into my chair, clasping my hands in front of me. "All right," I said. "Give me the latest."

A senior CISA official leaned forward. "Madam Vice President, our teams have detected an uptick in foreign interference efforts, particularly from Russia and China. It's mostly online disinformation targeting swing-state voters."

I nodded, unsurprised. This had been happening since 2016. "What's the messaging?"

"They're pushing the usual narratives—claims that voting machines are rigged, that mail-in ballots can't be trusted. But there's a new element this time. We're seeing AI-generated deepfakes spreading false clips of you and President Biden."

My stomach tightened. "Deepfakes?"

"Yes, ma'am. Some show you saying things you never said—radical positions designed to turn off moderates. Others try to fabricate scandals, though so far, none have gained significant traction."

I exhaled sharply. "What's our response strategy?"

"We're coordinating with social media platforms to identify and flag these videos as quickly as possible. But we need to be proactive in getting ahead of this."

Lorraine, who had been jotting down notes, jumped in. "We'll run an aggressive digital ad campaign debunking these lies before they spread. We'll also have you and other surrogates address the issue head-on."

I nodded. "Good. We can't let disinformation win this election."

The meeting lasted another 40 minutes. When it ended, I walked out with Lorraine, my mind already shifting gears.

"How bad is it?" I asked her quietly.

She hesitated. "It's not great. But if we move fast, we can contain it."

I gave a firm nod. "Then let's move fast."

—

By 2:00 p.m., I was in a conference room at a local D.C. café, seated across from a dozen small business owners. The Biden administration had done a lot to support them—PPP loans, tax credits, grants—but they were still facing challenges.

"I want to hear from you directly," I told them. "What's working? What's not?"

A woman who owned a bakery in Maryland spoke first. "We appreciate the support, but inflation is still hitting us hard. The cost of ingredients keeps rising, and we can't raise prices too much without losing customers."

A bookstore owner nodded. "And it's not just inflation—it's competition. The big corporations get subsidies and tax breaks while we struggle to stay afloat."

I listened carefully, taking notes, asking follow-up questions. This was why I loved these roundtables—they cut through the political noise and got to the heart of what people were facing.

After an hour of discussion, I stood to wrap up. "I hear you," I said. "And I promise you, our administration is fighting for you. We're going to keep pushing for policies that put small businesses first, not corporate giants. And when I'm elected president, that fight will continue."

Applause filled the room. As I shook hands and took photos, I could feel the momentum. People weren't just supporting this campaign—they were believing in it.

—

At 4:30 p.m., I was back in the campaign office when Lorraine walked in, looking exasperated.

"He did it again," she said.

I didn't have to ask who. "What did he say this time?"

Lorraine handed me her phone. I scrolled through Trump's latest Truth Social posts, shaking my head.

KAMALA HARRIS IS THE MOST INCOMPETENT VP IN AMERICAN HISTORY. IF SHE WINS, IT WILL BE THE END OF OUR COUNTRY AS WE KNOW IT. SHE'S A DISASTER!!!

Another post read:

DOES ANYONE EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE STANDS FOR? SHE JUST LAUGHS AT EVERYTHING! A TOTAL EMBARRASSMENT.

I sighed, setting the phone down. "Same old nonsense."

Lorraine crossed her arms. "Do we respond?"

I shook my head. "No. He wants a reaction. Let's not give him one."

Lorraine smirked. "Fine. But we're still running the ad tonight that rips him apart on abortion and democracy."

"Good," I said. "Let him fume."

—

By 7:00 p.m., I was finally home. Doug had ordered takeout—Indian food, my favorite—and was waiting at the dining table when I walked in.

"Long day?" he asked.

I let out a breath as I sat down. "Every day is a long day."

We ate in comfortable silence for a while. The campaign had consumed so much of my life that these quiet moments felt rare, almost stolen.

Doug reached for my hand. "You're doing amazing," he said softly.

I squeezed his fingers. "I just have to keep going."

"And you will," he said. "Because you always do."

—

At 10:30 p.m., I was back on Zoom, this time with key strategists. We were mapping out the next two weeks—rallies, endorsements, battleground state visits.

Lorraine spoke first. "We need a big moment before the next debate. Something that resets the narrative."

Adam, our messaging guru, nodded. "A primetime speech. Not a rally, not a campaign stop—just you, directly addressing the American people."

I considered it. "Where?"

"Philadelphia," Lorraine said immediately. "The birthplace of democracy."

A beat of silence. Then I nodded. "Let's do it."

—

By midnight, I was finally in bed, exhaustion weighing heavy on my body. Doug was already asleep beside me, his breathing steady.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind still racing. 61 days left.

Tomorrow, the fight would continue.