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The expletives were being hurled at this point. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. He powered on the monitor and struggled to switch from the Weather Channel to any of the cable news networks.

He finally found CNN. His eyes grew wide as the words BREAKING NEWS were splattered across the screen together with a graphic depicting California, Oregon, and Washington, with several red dots flashing on the screen. Along the chyron, the words Ballistic Missile Alert issued.

Tears poured out of Hank’s eyes as he turned up the volume.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Tuesday, October 22

Falls Church, Virginia

Peter had flopped on the sofa with a beer. He’d spent the bulk of the afternoon at the State Department, attempting to confirm the information he’d received from his sources. He didn’t have sufficient corroboration to satisfy his editor, so a story for the print edition of the Times didn’t have a chance. Their journalistic standards also applied to the digital edition online. Peter planned on settling in with his MacBook to review statements made by the president during past electoral campaigns to determine if he’d tipped his hand unknowingly. As was his practice, he watched his television with the volume muted and the closed captioning turned on so he could monitor events around the world.

Fox News was airing a commercial, so he perused his social media accounts before getting started. He moved from the new platforms, MeWe and Gab, to the dinosaurs, Facebook and then Twitter. By the time he scrolled through his Twitter feed, the digital media world had exploded.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed as he jumped off the sofa, spilling his beer in the process. He grabbed the bottle off the floor and set it on the coffee table as the foamy head spilled out. He quickly turned his laptop sideways so the droplets of beer slid off the screen.

Peter grabbed the remote and turned up the volume on the television. Breaking News was emblazoned across the screen. He turned up the volume to listen as he studied the tweets. The news opinion host stuttered at first. She was normally level-headed, but the magnitude of the event had clearly rattled her.

Laura Ingram read from a printed page instead of a teleprompter. “We have received reports from KTTV, the Fox affiliate in Los Angeles, that the California State Warning Center, Office of Emergency Services in Sacramento has issued a digital warning to all residents of California that an incoming ballistic missile has been detected. This is unconfirmed as of yet.”

Ingram paused as someone spoke to her off camera. Then she continued. “I’ve also been told that as is their protocol, Oregon and Washington state have issued similar warnings. According to this, the alerts took place in the last seven minutes. From my recollection, America’s west coast is thirty to thirty-five minutes away from a nuclear strike from our nearest adversaries, North Korea and China.”

She took a deep breath and looked into the camera. “Everyone needs to seek shelter immediately. Don’t hesitate. Go now. Your life depends on it.”

Peter’s first instinct was to call Lacey. He tried twice on her cell phone and got no answer. He scowled as he paced the floor. He called Jess. She’d been at the Pentagon late that evening and had bailed on a previously scheduled dinner with him.

Her phone rang and rang.

“Come on, Jess, pick up.”

Peter paced the floor, glancing twice at the beer as he resisted the urge to drink it. He needed to keep his head clear.

He returned to his phone and tried Lacey again. No answer. He was mad at himself for not having Owen’s number, or Tucker’s, for that matter.

The Fox coverage switched to live shots of panicked partiers in West Hollywood and motorists who were rushing away from the city. A traffic helicopter hovered over Interstate 210 through Pasadena as cars traveling east away from the city had taken over one of the westbound lanes.

He called Jess again. It rang twice, and she picked up.

“Peter! We’ve got nothing inbound.”

“What? Say that again.”

“Initially, they went into a full-blown panic over here. There are no missiles inbound. They’ve called USCENTCOM and confirmed with Pacific Command. There are no ballistic missiles in the air. I know for a fact they reached out to the governor of California and his OES people to shut the damn warning alerts off.”

Peter said nothing for a long moment. Fox was still reporting on the mayhem and had done nothing to retract their initial reporting.

“Jess, I’m watching reaction on the news. They’ve got to tell people. There are reports of people jumping from high-rise balconies to commit suicide. Cars are crashing head-on into one another along the freeways coming out of LA.”

Jess was on edge and agitated. “The Pentagon is on it. We’re preparing a press release and a nationwide text alert now. It should go out any second.”

The federal government had established a program to notify every cell phone user in the nation of emergency alerts sent by state and local public officials regarding severe weather, missing or abducted children, and silver alerts related to senior citizens who might suffer from deteriorating mental faculties. Through the Emergency Alert System, or EAS, the president can address the American people within ten minutes of a national emergency.

“What about POTUS?” he asked.

“They hustled him off to Mount Weather already in light of the South Asian conflict,” Jess responded.

“He, or someone, needs to issue a retraction. Every second that goes by could mean hundreds of people dying unnecessarily.”

“They know, Peter. Listen, I gotta go.”

“Okay, call me when you can,” he insisted, but she’d already disconnected the call.

Peter’s hands were shaking when he reached down for his beer. It had become warm, but he didn’t care. He drained the bottle in three hard gulps.

He tried to open SFGate.com, a well-known Bay Area website for local news, sports, and weather. The servers had crashed. His palms were sweaty as he dialed Lacey’s number again. He prayed they were home at this hour.

The phone rang, and finally, Lacey picked up the phone. He could hear the blaring of car horns in the background. Lacey dropped the phone.

“Watch out, Mom!” Tucker shouted in the background. Lacey slammed on her own horn in response to whatever Tucker had warned about. She finally came to the phone.

“Owen? Are you okay?”

“Lacey!” Peter shouted so she could hear him. “Listen to me. It’s a false alarm. Do you hear me? It’s a false alarm!”

“What? Peter? They’ve been sending out these—”

“Lacey, I know. I talked to the Pentagon. It’s a mistake. Somebody made a mistake.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Lacey shouted at the phone, her incredulity obvious in her tone of voice.

“I confirmed it. The president will be issuing an emergency alert notification withdrawing what California started. Get home. Get to safety. There is no missile threat.”

“I’m gonna hand you off to Tucker.”

“Uncle Peter?”

“Yeah, big guy. Listen, I’m gonna hang up. Help your mom. There is no missile, okay?”

“Stupid idiots,” Tucker groaned.

“Yeah, for sure. Listen, I take it Owen isn’t with you?”

“Right. We think he’s on the Dumbarton crossing the bay. I’d better try to call him again.”

“Do that. Be careful and call me later.”