“We can report that casualties in the United States are expected to be in the millions. Damages, we are told, are utterly beyond comprehension. Wall Street has been completely annihilated, we understand, and all trading across Asia has been halted after the markets began collapsing — the Nikkei alone dropped 36 percent before officials were able to shut it down. European markets are not expected to open this morning.
“At the moment, it is not clear whether these bombs were smuggled into the country by terrorists or launched into American cities by missiles. Defence Minister Allister Morgan says he has no indication that intercontinental ballistic missiles were used. Nor does he have any…”
So this was it, Bennett thought, his mind suddenly reverting back to the phone call he had received earlier. Whoever had called him had known these attacks were coming. He’d been telling the truth, which meant he probably knew what was coming next. So who was he? How much did he know? Bennett still couldn’t figure out how anyone could have obtained his unlisted satellite phone number. But he began wondering how to seize the initiative and find out who this person was. This was a lead — a lead the authorities back in the States needed. But whom should he call? Almost everyone in the administration — many of whom he knew personally — was likely dead.
Bennett shook off the horrible thought. First things first, he decided. He took out his satellite phone and dialed his mother’s home number in Orlando. All he got was a recording.
“I’m sorry, your call could not go through as dialed. Please recheck the number or hang up and dial again.”
He tried several more times, without success. He tried his mother’s cell phone number. Again, no luck. He tried the neighbors but was told repeatedly that all circuits were busy. This did not bode well, Bennett thought, though he quickly tried to drive the notion from his mind.
Dr. Kwamee switched stations again.
“This is CNN Breaking News…”
The distinctive music and imagery drew Bennett’s attention.
“… from the CNN Center in Atlanta, here’s Terry Cameron.”
“As a nuclear crisis of unimaginable proportions unfolds across the American homeland, CNN can now report that Vice President Bill Oaks has not only survived the four nuclear blasts but has just been sworn in as the new U.S. commander in chief. Moments ago, William Harvard Oaks became the forty-fifth president of the United States. What you are seeing on your screens is a digital photograph taken by a White House staffer on board Air Force One as the oath of office was being administered to the vice president by the Honorable Sharon Summers, who we understand is a federal judge from somewhere in Florida….”
Cameron paused for a moment, perhaps, Bennett thought, to let the enormity of what he was saying to the country and the world begin to sink in. Or perhaps just to steady his emotions. News anchors typically weren’t supposed to show their feelings on air. CNN International anchors in particular — at least in Bennett’s experience — rarely showed flashes of any kind of patriotism or special affection for the United States. But Cameron was having trouble remaining emotionally detached from this story. And thank God, thought Bennett, who was having trouble keeping his own emotions in check. The woman on the BBC was acting as if this were simply an earthquake or a hurricane of some sort. Did she not get how serious this was, or was she secretly happy about it?
Maybe that wasn’t fair. She was a professional. She had a job to do. But didn’t this mean anything to her? Why was she so calm, so unmoved by the enormity of the carnage? Then again, wasn’t he fighting to keep control? Had he been alone, Bennett might have lost it. But as the only American in the room, and as the only person Erin had in the world at the moment, he had already decided he had to keep his emotions in check.
What’s more, he knew he had to keep this all from Erin. She was too weak to take any of it right at the moment, and perhaps for days. After all, every friend she had at the White House was dead. So were all her friends at the CIA, where she had worked for nearly a decade, and where her father had worked for a quarter of a century before his death in Afghanistan during the war with the Soviets.
And how would he ever tell her that the entire MacPherson family had been killed? Bennett wondered. The MacPhersons had practically adopted Erin when her mother had died of ovarian cancer in the early nineties. The MacPherson girls were the only sisters she had in the world, and they had always treated her as part of their family. And now they were gone. All of them. The truth was, nearly everyone he and Erin had ever known was dead, and the feeling of helplessness that had gripped him for most of the night began to come over him once more.
The clinic’s air-conditioning had broken down, Bennett noticed. Perspiration soaked the collar of his shirt. Bennett’s eyes were growing heavy. He didn’t know if it was denial or depression, but something was telling him none of it mattered and lulling him to sleep. He could hear the CNN anchor remark on how quickly the American government was moving to reconstitute itself, but Bennett found that he didn’t really care. He could hear some expert commenting on how important it was for the rest of the world — and particularly the enemies of the U.S. — to see that someone was in charge, but little of it registered.
At the same time, Bennett could hear the doctors around him arguing over who might be behind the attacks and what the new president should do about it. But what did any of that really matter? he asked himself. The world was going up in flames. Evil was being unleashed. What were another few nuclear missiles lobbed at innocent civilians? All he wanted to do was sleep.
Erin, he decided, was the fortunate one at the moment. She was so drugged up she had no idea what was happening. The last thing she had heard was that she was having a baby in eight months, and now she was savoring the sweetness of that moment with no idea it might be her last. Why not join her? Bennett mused. Why not just curl up for a few hours or a few days and dream about a life that could have been?
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His thoughts drifted, away from the news, away from the camp, away from the nightmare unfolding around him. He could suddenly see Erin again, as he had the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her. He could still remember the physical sensation he had felt as she’d stepped into his thirty-sixth-floor conference room in Manhattan with that brown skirt, silk blouse, and pearls. She’d been there to interview for a stock analyst job or investment strategist or something, but he could still remember thinking that if this beautiful girl had half a brain in her head, he would never forgive himself if he didn’t hire her for something and figure out the details later.
He could still picture her handing him a résumé and smiling. He could still smell the scent of her perfume that seemed to linger in the air. He could feel the law bond cotton stationery in his hands, and he could feel his heart accelerate as he scanned the text while she sat at the conference table across from him.
Summa cum laude from UNC Chapel Hill with a bachelor’s in economics. An MBA from Wharton. World traveler — London, Paris, Berlin, Hong Kong, and Cairo. A great-grandfather who had once been the U.S. secretary of state. And no rings on either hand. How could a girl this beautiful still be single? he had wondered then. How in the world did she ever fall in love with me? he wondered now.