Chapter 13: The wrong ones think they're right (49 days)

The sun had barely risen when I opened my eyes, already bracing for the day ahead. The last twenty-four hours had shifted the political landscape in ways none of us could ignore. Trump's shooting was still the top story across every major news outlet. The images—him clutching his bleeding ear, Secret Service agents swarming him, the chaos of the crowd—had been replayed endlessly.

And the poll numbers were shifting.

I knew that would happen. Knew the country, even those who didn't support him, would rally behind him in the immediate aftermath. That's how these things worked. But I also knew it wouldn't last forever. Sympathy fades. Policy remains. And that's where I had to focus.

I exhaled deeply, willing my mind into campaign mode. There was too much to do.

—

By 6:30 a.m., I was at my desk, going through briefing notes while I waited for my senior team to join the morning strategy call. My coffee sat untouched beside me, growing cold as I scanned updates on polling, security concerns, and today's schedule.

My phone buzzed with a text from Lorraine.

Zoom in 5. You good?

I typed back, "Ready."

At exactly 6:35, my screen filled with familiar faces—Lorraine, Adam, my chief of staff Rohini, and several other senior advisors. Everyone looked exhausted, but sharp.

Lorraine got right to it. "Alright, let's go over the numbers first. Trump's post-attack bump is real. New polling shows a five-point swing in his favor since yesterday."

I nodded, unsurprised. "Where's it hitting hardest?"

Adam jumped in. "Suburban swing voters. Especially in Pennsylvania and Wisconsin. Some independents are buying into the 'he's a survivor' narrative."

I sighed. "That'll wear off."

"It will," Adam agreed. "But we can't ignore it. We need to refocus our messaging to keep people engaged."

Lorraine cut in. "Which brings us to today. The rally in Phoenix is crucial. It's one of the biggest women's rights events of the campaign. The energy will be there—we need to harness it."

I nodded. "And security?"

"Doubled," Rohini assured me. "After yesterday, we're taking zero chances."

Good. Because the last thing we needed was another incident.

—

At 7:15 a.m., I stepped into a secure line with President Biden.

"Good morning, Madam Vice President," he said, voice warm but weary.

"Good morning, Mr. President," I responded. "I imagine you've seen the latest numbers."

"I have." He let out a deep sigh. "Look, Kamala. I know this is frustrating, but it's a temporary setback. People react emotionally to these kinds of things. Your job is to keep showing them who's actually fighting for them."

"I know," I said. "And that's exactly what I intend to do."

He chuckled. "I don't doubt that for a second."

Before we ended the call, he added, "Just be careful out there today, alright?"

"I will," I promised.

—

By 8:00 a.m., I was on a video call with Alexis McGill Johnson, the president of Planned Parenthood.

"We're seeing a spike in attacks on reproductive rights activists since last night," Alexis informed me. "Trump's supporters are riled up, and we're already getting reports of increased threats against our clinics and staff."

I pressed my lips together. "We won't let this scare us into silence."

She nodded. "We know. That's why today's rally matters so much. You standing on that stage will send a message that we're not backing down."

"Damn right we're not," I said firmly.

—

At 9:00 a.m., I had my daily security briefing. Today, it felt more urgent than ever.

The lead agent, Michael, gave me a rundown. "We've identified an increase in violent rhetoric online directed at both you and President Trump. Nothing specific or actionable yet, but we're treating today's rally as a high-risk event."

I nodded. "What does that mean for my movements?"

"We'll be enforcing a tighter perimeter," he said. "Snipers on rooftops, increased screening at all entry points. If we sense any heightened risk, we'll pull you immediately."

"Understood," I said. "But I'm not canceling the rally."

Michael didn't argue. He knew better.

—

By 10:00 a.m., I was en route to Arizona. Air Force Two was a familiar space by now—calm, quiet, removed from the noise of the campaign trail. But my mind was still racing.

Lorraine sat across from me, flipping through her tablet. "You ready for this speech?"

I glanced at my notes, then back at her. "This is one I don't need to rehearse."

She smiled. "Good. Because this is the moment where we remind people what this election is really about."

She was right. For all the chaos, all the distractions, the truth hadn't changed: women's rights were on the line. And I wasn't about to let anyone forget that.

—

By 11:30 a.m., we touched down in Arizona. The second I stepped off the plane, I felt the heat of the desert sun, but also something else—electricity in the air. The crowd waiting near the tarmac was already buzzing.

As we drove toward the rally site, I caught glimpses of people lining the streets, holding up signs. Some read Kamala 2024. Others were more urgent:

Our Rights Are on the Line

Keep Abortion Legal

We Won't Go Back

And of course, there were counter-protesters. Trump supporters waving MAGA 2024 banners, signs calling me a "radical leftist," some even shouting about yesterday's shooting.

I tuned it all out. My focus was ahead—on the people who needed to hear my voice today.

—

Inside the backstage tent, I stood with a few key allies—Arizona Governor Katie Hobbs, Senator Mark Kelly, and several local leaders. The energy outside was deafening. Thousands had turned out, a sea of people fighting for their rights.

Lorraine handed me a water bottle. "You're on in five."

I nodded, rolling my shoulders, grounding myself in the moment.

Then I stepped toward the stage.

The crowd erupted.

The roar of the crowd hit me like a wave the moment I stepped onto the stage. It wasn't just noise—it was energy, raw and powerful, the collective heartbeat of thousands of people who had come here not just to hear me speak, but to fight for something bigger than any one person.

As I walked up to the podium, the chants filled the air:

"MY BODY, MY CHOICE!"

"KAMALA! KAMALA! KAMALA!"

I gripped the edges of the podium, took a breath, and let the moment settle. Then, I started.

—

"Arizona." My voice cut through the air, steady and strong. "I can feel it. I can feel why you're here today. And I can tell you this—so can they."

The crowd erupted in cheers.

"They know that when we gather like this, when we stand up and demand justice, demand dignity, demand our rights, we are unstoppable. That's why they are so afraid. That's why they are trying to silence us."

A woman in the front row held up a sign that read: We Won't Go Back. I pointed to it.

"They want to drag us back. Back to a time when women had no say over our own bodies. Back to a time when politicians thought they could control our futures. Well, I have news for them: we are never going back."

The crowd was on fire now.

I let the moment sit before continuing, my voice firm. "This is not just about one law or one court decision. This is about power. Who has it. Who wants to take it away from you. And what we are going to do to stop them."

I paused, scanning the faces in the crowd—young women, older women, mothers holding daughters on their shoulders.

"Make no mistake: this election is about your rights. And let me be absolutely clear—if you put me in that White House, I will codify Roe v. Wade into law."

The eruption of cheers was deafening.

"But I can't do it alone," I continued. "We need the House. We need the Senate. We need every single one of you to show up. To vote. To make sure that when your daughters ask you one day what you did in this moment, you can say: I fought."

The cheers turned into rhythmic chants:

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

I nodded, my voice unwavering. "And let me tell you—I am right there with you."

—

The second I stepped backstage, Lorraine was already in motion.

"That was one of your best speeches yet," she said, barely looking up as she scrolled through her phone. "We've already got clips going viral. And the contrast with Trump's hospital visit today? Couldn't be clearer."

I nodded, but my mind was already onto the next thing. "How's security looking?"

"Smooth so far," one of my agents responded. "We've got a secure route back to the motorcade."

I took a sip of water, feeling the adrenaline still humming through my body. "Good. What's next?"

Lorraine looked at her tablet. "You've got a sit-down interview with MSNBC in an hour, then a donor event tonight. And there's been a request for a call with Senator Warren—she wants to discuss campaign strategy."

I nodded. "Let's do it."

—

By 4:00 p.m., I was sitting across from Rachel Maddow in a small, private conference room, cameras and lights set up around us.

"Madam Vice President," Rachel started, "you just gave what some are calling your most powerful speech of the campaign. Do you believe the fight for reproductive rights will be the defining issue of this election?"

I didn't hesitate. "Yes. And not just because of politics—because of people. Women in this country are watching what's happening, watching their rights be stripped away, and they are angry. Rightfully so."

Rachel nodded. "Your opponent has said he would support a nationwide abortion ban if given the chance. How do you plan to combat that?"

I met her gaze directly. "By winning."

Rachel gave a small smile, but I kept going.

"Donald Trump and his allies have made it clear: they want control over women's bodies. They want a future where the government decides what you can and cannot do with your own life. And we are going to stop them."

The interview continued, touching on everything from my campaign strategy to the fallout from Trump's shooting. When it was over, my team was already buzzing with updates.

"Social media response is through the roof," Adam told me as we walked out. "You're trending—people are calling you the 'fighter America needs.'"

I smiled. Good.

—

By 7:00 p.m., I was at a private gathering with high-profile donors in a sleek, modern venue overlooking downtown Phoenix. These events were necessary—money was fuel for the campaign, and with the GOP machine ramping up its attacks, we needed every dollar.

I stepped onto the small stage, scanning the room.

"I want to thank you all for being here tonight," I started. "This campaign isn't just about me—it's about all of us. It's about the America we want to build, together."

I didn't give them a rehearsed speech. Instead, I spoke from the heart—about what I had seen today, about the women in the crowd, about the urgency of this moment.

And I reminded them what was at stake.

"I promise you this: I will not stop fighting. Not for one second. But I need you with me. Because this isn't just an election—it's a battle for the soul of this country."

The room erupted in applause. By the end of the night, we had raised millions.

—

By 10:30 p.m., I was back at my hotel, exhausted but still wired. Lorraine, Adam, and Rohini were on a conference call, going over the day's wins and what came next.

"The Arizona rally was a home run," Lorraine said. "It's dominating the news cycle."

"But we need to keep the momentum," Adam added. "We can't let the Trump sympathy bump linger. We have to push harder."

I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "Then we push."

We strategized for another hour—plans for the next state, next speech, next attack line. Because tomorrow, it all started again.

—

Finally, at nearly midnight, I shut my laptop and sat back against the hotel bed. My body ached from the long day, my mind still buzzing.

I picked up my phone and opened a text thread with Maya.

Me

You still up?

Maya

Always. How was the rally?

Me

Powerful. But the fight's only getting harder.

Maya

That's what makes it worth it.

I smiled.

She was right.

49 days left. And I wasn't stopping now.