Redline waved the group toward a half dozen black Suburbans. Even more officers waited around the vehicles.
“Senators Montgomery and Sarcone, with me,” Redline said. He moved to the sixth truck and opened the rear passenger-side door. Clint and Albert tried to follow, but Redline shook his head. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but this is a priority transport.”
Charlize halted and asked, “What do you mean?”
Sarcone elbowed passed her and climbed in, sliding his bulk over the seats.
“We don’t have room to evacuate everyone right now,” Redline said woodenly. “We will come back for the others.”
Charlize watched other ranking senators pile into the vehicles ahead, but when she turned, Ellen and League were still standing with a small group behind the SUVs.
“We need to hurry, ma’am,” Redline said. There was an urgency to his words that scared Charlize. Secret Service Agents rarely lost their nerve. The threat, whatever it was, must be imminent.
“It’s okay,” Clint said. “You go.”
“No,” Charlize replied. “I’m not leaving them. There’s room for everyone if we squeeze in.”
Redline cursed under his breath. At first Charlize thought she was going to have to pull rank, but Redline must have known better than to argue. He jerked his chin at the vehicle.
“Thank you,” Charlize said.
“Why are we not being moved?” Ellen asked. “I want to go with them!”
She rushed past Redline, but the convoy was already moving. Several staffers ran after her, and Charlize forced her gaze away.
“Hold on,” the driver of her vehicle said. “We’re going to be moving pretty fast in a minute.”
Officers at the barricades moved back as the SUVs raced away from Capitol Hill.
“Where are we going?” Sarcone asked.
The driver, a middle-aged Secret Service Agent, turned the wheel slightly and pulled out onto Pennsylvania, providing Charlize with the answer. She knew exactly what building was in that direction.
Clint leaned closer to Charlize and said, “I thought we would be leaving D.C.”
“I did, too, but there must not be a way to get us out in time,” she whispered back.
The convoy picked up speed as they moved down Pennsylvania, weaving around stalled cars, tires squealing. Charlize didn’t bother asking how the Secret Service had procured functional vehicles. They could have been in an underground location, or perhaps they were hardened to begin with. She didn’t care, as long as they kept running. Stranded motorists got out of their cars and waved from the side of the road, but the driver didn’t slow.
Within minutes, their headlights shot across the White House lawn, capturing Secret Service and Marines running to set up positions. Behind them was Marine 1, a magnificent VH-3D Sea King helicopter, rotors idle.
The trucks rolled to a halt on the southwest side of the building. Albert jumped out and opened the back door, holding out a hand for Charlize. She grabbed her backpack, climbed out of the Suburban, and followed the group toward the dark building. She had the bizarre impulse to run for the chopper, fire it up, and fly all the way to Colorado. Charlize blinked the fantasy away. If the Sea King helicopter still worked, it would already be in the air.
“This way, Senator,” Albert said. He directed her toward the heavily guarded back entrance. Inside, the West Wing was lit with lanterns. Flanked by Albert and Clint, she rushed after the group of politicians and staffers who were on the list to be evacuated first. Charlize tried not to think of Senator Ellen running after the convoy, her hair mussed and her Coach bag forgotten. The truth was that some people in Washington were considered more essential than others in an emergency.
They were directed through several vault doors. A Secret Service agent instructed them to wait as he punched biometric access codes into the control systems and swiped his card. The final door opened to an elevator.
“Single file. The elevator can only hold twenty at a time,” he said. He gestured toward Charlize, and she quickly stepped into the elevator and hugged the left wall. Sarcone wedged inside and used a handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
“Why is this elevator working when the lights aren’t?” he asked.
No one replied to Sarcone’s question. There was only the sound of labored breathing and a muffled cough. The doors sealed, and a slight jolt rocked the elevator as it descended. In her mind’s eye, Charlize pictured them moving down six stories to the Presidential Emergency Operations Center. It hardly seemed deep enough to survive a direct hit from a nuclear bomb, but that was what it had been designed to withstand.
A few seconds later the doors whispered open, and two guards waved everyone out into a brightly lit hallway. The White House had been hardened after all, or at least the grid connecting to the PEOC had been spared. Either way, there was light underground.
Footfalls echoed down the tile floor as the group continued toward the East Wing. With every step, Charlize felt a seed of hope blooming inside of her. Maybe the government was more prepared for an EMP attack than she had thought. She couldn’t wait to see President Brandon Drake. If anyone could lead the country after a catastrophic attack, it was the decorated Vietnam veteran. Drake wasn’t just a respected war hero—he was a leader who brought people together from both sides of the aisle. She felt sure their foreign allies would rally to America’s aid at his call.
Charlize picked up her pace at the sight of the red blast doors sealing off the PEOC. The double doors parted, revealing a room she had only seen in pictures.
The walls were lined with large monitors, data scrolling across some, video footage playing on others. In the center of the room was a long table that seated at least thirty people. Senator Ron Diego stood at the head of it. He was the President Pro Tempore of the Senate, and one of the only Senators Charlize didn’t get along with, even though they were from the same party. Dressed in a pinstriped suit, he stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the newcomers.
Charlize quickly avoided his gaze to search the room for President Drake or his Vice President, Christy Pederson. Neither of them were in the main chamber.
The blast doors clanked shut behind Charlize. She walked toward the table with Sarcone and Clint. There were already a dozen people seated there, including Secretary of State Denise Loyola and Secretary of Defense Carl Smith.
“Welcome to the PEOC,” said Diego in the crisp voice that normally made Charlize shudder. She took her baseball cap off and loosened her ponytail, black hair falling around her shoulders. She ran her sleeve across her wet forehead.
“Where’s President Drake and Vice President Pederson?” she asked.
Diego lowered his head, and for a moment, everyone in the room stopped what they were doing. The non-response was the only answer Charlize needed. She slowly took a seat in the closest chair, her brief feeling of hope deflating like air from a punctured tire.
“Air Force One went down a few hours ago somewhere over Nebraska. It was taking President Drake to Offutt after a public event in South Dakota,” Diego said. “Vice President Pederson’s plane was taking her to Raven Rock Mountain Complex when it disappeared from radar.”
There were a dozen other conversations going on in the background, but Charlize blocked them all out. If the EMP had knocked Air Force One out of the sky above Nebraska, then it would have likely hit Colorado, too.
“How?” Senator Sarcone asked. “How were these EMPs set off?”
“We’re still trying to piece together the evidence, but it appears the North Koreans used fake transponder codes to get several Ilyushins into our airspace,” Diego said. “We managed to take out two of them, but the other three were able to detonate nukes at altitudes ranging from fifty two thousand to sixty five thousand feet at strategic points over the United States.”
Charlize balled her hands to keep them from shaking. Nukes? The North Koreans had detonated nuclear weapons?
“Where?” she managed to
ask.
“Above Iowa, Virginia, and Colorado.”
The last word sent Charlize into a tailspin like she was in a jet that had just been hit by a missile. The faces in the room blurred, and voices became garbled.
She fought her way back to the present moment. She did not have time to fall apart right now. She walked away from the table to the radar stations across the room. Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Jay Pennington glanced at her with crystal blue eyes under thick gray brows.
“Senator Montgomery,” he said with a nod.
“I need to know two things. One, where was that bomb set off over Colorado? And two, were any of our fighter jets in the air at the time?”
Pennington relayed her questions to a young female officer named Jennifer, who was monitoring the radars. Charlize waited anxiously as Jennifer filtered through the data. After a moment, Charlize felt a presence to her right. Clint stood beside her, offering his silent support.
Chaos continued throughout the PEOC as staffers and military personnel gathered information. A colonel Charlize didn’t recognize motioned for Pennington to join him.
“Excuse me, Senator,” Pennington said.
Charlize felt her hands shaking again. She clenched her fists and held in a breath.
Jennifer had her answer another moment later. She pointed to a map on her screen. “Senator, the bomb looks to have detonated at about fifty-three thousand feet over this area.”
The air hissed out of Charlize’s lungs when she saw the blast wasn’t far from Denver.
“The National Guard had four F-16s in the air at the time, and the Air Force had—”
“Which squadron?” Charlize interrupted.
“The 120th, ma’am,” Jennifer replied. She looked back at her screen. “Looks like they lost First Lieutenant Swanson, First Lieutenant Blake, Captain Negan, and Major Sardetti.”
“Oh my God,” Charlize said. She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Charlize, I’m so, so sorry,” Clint said.
“Have we heard from any of the pilots?” Charlize asked.
“No, ma’am, they all went off radar shortly after the blast,” Jennifer said.
Charlize felt like her legs were going to give out. Her brother was dead, and her son was perilously close to the blast zone.
Behind her, a shout echoed through the room. It sounded strangely far away, as if she was listening from the other side of a thick pane of glass.
“Attention, everyone!” It was Pennington, and he looked like he had aged a decade in the last five minutes. All eyes centered on him.
“We just got word that Speaker of the House Catherine Hamilton was also in the air during the time of the attacks.” Pennington blinked, as if he was considering the full meaning of his own words even as he said them.
“We have to assume that the president, vice president, and speaker are dead or at least missing, until we learn otherwise…” Pennington said. He stepped to the side so everyone could get a good look at the Acting President of the United States, Senator Ron Diego.
— 10 —
Colton froze like someone had just pointed a gun at his head. Rex and Lilly Stone were outside, and they didn’t know yet that their daughter was dead. He stood and grabbed the lantern off his desk. Exhausted and unprepared to talk with the Stones, he walked out of his office like a soldier heading home after losing a battle. Jake walked with him, his head bowed.
The anxiety built with every step as Colton made his way through the station. He unlocked the door leading to the lobby beyond their office. Rex stood just beyond the door, holding his wife. Lilly trembled in his arms. Behind them, outside the glass doors, there were people gathering in the streets and in Bond Park, waiting for answers.
“Rex, Lilly,” Colton said, slowly walking toward them. “I’m so sorry. We did everything we could, but we were too late.”
Lilly burst into tears, burying her face against her husband’s swelling chest.
“Where is she?” Rex said, his voice surprisingly strong.
“She’s here at the station, but I don’t think you should see her like—”
“I want to see my baby girl, Marcus. Don’t make me beg.”
Colton hesitated, exchanging a glance with Jake. The captain nodded back.
“Follow us,” Jake said.
Side by side, the two officers led Rex and Lilly into the office. Colton stopped outside the door to the empty room where they had stored her body. Normally they would have had the medical examiner transport her to the morgue, but with communications down, he’d had no choice.
He didn’t ask the Stones if they were sure a second time; he simply inserted the key and opened the door. The glow from the lantern spread through the room, washing over the blanket-draped form on the table.
Rex and Lilly slowly walked into the room. Halfway across, Lilly collapsed to her knees. Rex put his hands under her and helped her stand. They continued to the table.
“Please, you shouldn’t see her like this,” Colton said.
“My God,” Lilly whimpered. “What’s that smell?” She looked over her shoulder, eyes pleading with Colton to tell her that it wasn’t anything to do with Melissa.
He put a hand on Rex’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t remember your daughter like this.”
Rex pulled from his grip. “What happened to her, Marcus? What the hell happened to our baby?”
Colton set the lantern down on the floor. “Your daughter was murdered, Rex. I don’t know who did it, or why, but I promise you I will do everything in my power to find that person.”
Rex pulled the blanket away from Melissa’s face, his hand shaking. His expression twisted into a mask of horror in the dim light. There was a moment of silence before the big man broke into tears. Lilly screamed, and the sound seemed to go on and on in the unnaturally quiet night.
***
It was one in the morning by the time Raven pulled up to the Estes Park Medical Center. Sandra studied the building as they drove into the parking lot.
“You see any lights?” she asked.
Raven shook his head. “The generators must have been knocked out.”
Sandra continued running her hand through Allie’s hair. Her daughter was sleeping peacefully and Sandra hated to wake her, but her patients needed her now.
“Baby, wake up,” Sandra whispered in Allie’s ear.
It was amazing how dark it was, even with the moon high in the sky. Sandra could hardly see Allie’s face as she blinked around groggily.
“You can go back to sleep in a little bit,” Sandra told her. “But I have to go to work for a while.”
“I want to come,” Allie said.
“You sure you don’t want that hand looked at? It looks pretty swollen.” Sandra looked at Raven’s knuckles, which were indeed swelling from the punch he’d thrown at Mark. He shook his head, pulled his baseball cap off, and put it on Allie’s head.
“You get to stay with me for a bit, Agaliga,” he said playfully.
The nickname, Cherokee for “sunshine,” made Sandra smile. Raven pulled the bill of the hat over Allie’s eyes. She giggled and pushed the hat up so she could see.
“Can we go to your house? I want to see the chickens,” Allie said.
Raven grinned, his teeth so white they seemed to glow in the faint moonlight. “Yeah, and you can play with Creek as much as you want.”
“Okay,” Allie said. She pulled the hat off and suddenly looked down. “Daddy said he was going to get me a puppy just like Creek.”
Sandra and Raven shared a meaningful look. If she had a dollar for every time Mark had broken a promise, she’d be able to retire tomorrow.
“She’ll be safe with me and Creek,” Raven said. “What time should I come back to get you?”
“What time is it right now?”
Raven looked at his analog watch. “A quarter after one,” he said with a yawn.
“That thing works?”
He shrugged. “I g
uess so.”
“Stop back around noon then.”
“Sounds good.”
Sandra slid Allie off her chest and buckled her in.
“I really wish you’d get a car seat, Raven,” Sandra said.
“Sis,” he huffed. “She’s fine, and I’m tired. I promise I’ll drive safe.”
Sandra leaned in and kissed Allie on the forehead. “I love you, sweetie. Be good to Uncle Raven.”
Sandra locked eyes with Raven one more time, and he offered a reassuring nod. Holding in the tears, she jogged toward the emergency room. There was a lantern set up in the small lobby. Several people were sleeping in chairs with blankets draped over their bodies. “Sandra, thank God you’re here.”
A woman with tattoos on her upper chest hurried out from behind the reception desk. It was the nursing supervisor, Kayla Clark. She repositioned a candle on the counter and motioned for Sandra to come through to the small office.
“I’m so sorry,” Sandra whispered, keeping her voice low so she didn’t wake the sleepers in the lobby. “I was in the park when…” Sandra caught herself from revealing what she knew about the EMP attack. “When my car died. My brother picked me up and took me to Loveland to get Allie.”
Kayla, in her usual rapid-fire manner, explained that the generators had never come on after the power outage. There were only two doctors in the ER and one in the skilled nursing facility, and only four of their usual ten nurses had shown up for work.
“We lost two of the patients on life support,” Kayla finished, looking at the floor.
Sandra turned toward the doors leading to the ICU and ER. She was afraid to open them. There were only three patients hooked up to life support, and Teddy was one of them.
“None of the key cards work. You’ll have to use this,” Kayla said. She grabbed an extra key from a ring on the wall and handed it to Sandra. The room beyond was eerily quiet, all of the bright LEDs, beeping machines, and other equipment gone dark.
“Sandra, about time you showed up,” Doctor Newton said. There was frustration in his tone, but Sandra couldn’t blame him for that. He was sitting next to Teddy’s bedside, carefully pumping air by Ambu bag. The boy was still intubated and in a chemically-induced coma. The stump of his right elbow was wrapped to protect it from further infection, but she could see the dressings needed changing.
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