She unzipped the helmet and gently lifted it from her head.
The first thing that struck her was the fetid stench of human excrement and burned flesh; a sickly-sweet smell that reminded her of a barbecue in a sewer. She held her nose and swallowed hard, resisting the urge to vomit. And then she realized that she could also hear much more without the helmet. Mostly a symphony of human distress; the moaning, groaning, screaming, crying. Yet amidst all this, she could also hear the laughter of children playing. The sound both excited and saddened her; excited her because the innocent laughter symbolized hope for the future, saddened her because it provided a reminder of a world lost forever. The end of mankind’s innocence.
She found herself drawn automatically towards the source of the laughter. Making her way towards it, she became oblivious to the horrific sights and smells that provided such a stark contrast to the joyful sound.
And then she saw them. Three young children playing tag, chasing each other through the maze of bodies and tents, their faces alive with glee. The sight caused her to weep. It started with a single tear, then another. She sunk to her knees and began sobbing inconsolably, the children oblivious to her anguish.
Will they ever forgive us?
“Bethany.”
At first she thought she was imagining the weak voice that summoned her. Was this how it felt to lose one’s sanity?
“Bethany.”
She turned around. Initially, she had trouble seeing anything through her teary eyes. She wiped them, trying to focus.
“Bethany.”
And then she saw the familiar form laying on a blanket a few feet away. She moved towards it, tentative, uncertain. She touched the woman’s cheek. Incredibly, she didn’t seem badly injured. Just tired.
“Cathy?”
Her mother-in-law managed a weak smile. Her only injury appeared to be a bruised face. Somehow, the tough old Irish bitch had made it. She would survive.
Beth took her into a tight embrace. And then the tears really began to flow. For both of them. Perhaps not everything had been lost after all.
“You should get back to Chicago as soon as you can,” Beth said. She was thinking about Martin’s older sister Maggie, alone in Chicago with her two kids. Maggie’s husband had left her for a younger woman a few weeks’ ago. He had gone to live with his lover in what used to be Seattle. Perhaps there is some justice in the world,Beth thought.
Cathy shook her head, an obstinate look on her face. “No. I’m staying here with you. I can’t leave you alone, not until Martin gets home.”
Beth smiled, although she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she was smiling at Cathy’s naïveté. “You and I both know that Martin’s probably dead,” she remarked, surprised to hear herself say it in spite of her certainty that he had survived. Am I kidding myself or what? “Your place is with the rest of your family. They’re going to need you.”
Cathy considered that for a moment. She looked around her, taking in the scene of human misery. The truth was that she didn’t want to stay in this graveyard for a moment longer than she had to. And she sensed that Beth knew it. Finally, she looked up at her daughter-in-law and said, “Why don’t you come back with me? When Martin gets back, that’s the first place he’ll look.”
Beth also looked around her, but what she saw was something quite different. Yes, she wanted to leave. But so did the thousands of people inhabiting Camp 404. But most of them couldn’t, for they had no other place to go. She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Cath. My place is here now. These people need me.”
“They can do without you.”
“Perhaps. But Martin went away to fight for his country, and he’s probably dead. I owe it to him to help my country recover. It’s what he would want. I’ve never done anything worthwhile, Cath. I was a banker, a stockbroker. All I did was make rich people a bit richer. Now, for the first time in my life, I’ve got a purpose. These people have got nowhere to go. I have. So I can’t turn my back on them.”
Cathy nodded. She understood. “Then I’ll stick around for a while, keep you company. Maybe I can even help out a bit.”
“I’ve already told you. Maggie and the kids need…”
Cathy placed her hands on Beth’s cheeks, looking deeply into her eyes. “I’ve lost a son, Bethany. But I’ve gained a daughter. You’re also my family now, and you need me more than Maggie does. I’ll go back to Chicago in a month or two. Maggie can cope until then. My sister and brother-in-law are in Chicago. They’ll take care of her. She has a family around her; you don’t. I’ll send her a letter to explain.” She paused thoughtfully. “Martin always wanted me to like you. I’m just sorry that I gave you such a hard time. You’re a good girl. You didn’t deserve that. He’d like to know that we’ve made our peace. And now it’s time for me to make it up to you.”
Beth went to protest, but Cathy preempted her with a raised finger.
“No arguments,” she said. “I’m from tough Irish stock. I won’t take any shit. Now tell me what I can do to help out around here.”
Beth smiled, and then giggled. The giggle became a hearty, teary laugh that bordered on hysteria. Cathy stared at her in puzzlement.
LAWRENCEVILLE, NEW YORK STATE/MARYLAND BORDER
Betsy frowned, as if in pain. “I’m dying for a pee,” she complained. “Can’t we stop somewhere?”
“Have you seen anywhere open?” Hilary snapped. “’Cos I sure as hell haven’t. Cross your legs or something.”
That attracted a hostile glare. “You’re just lucky I’m not incompetent,” she snapped. “Otherwise I’d do it right here.”
“Incontinent,” Hilary sighed irritably. “And that’s something that only happens to old people,” she added, not imagining that some might consider a seventy-five year old womanold .
Hilary was vaguely aware that they were running low on gas, but at the same time she had an unwavering faith in her old car. It had never let her down before, had it? Besides, if she told Betsy that she was running low, that would only give the old bag something else to whine about. In fact, Hilary was becoming tired of her friend’s whining. I want to pee… I’m hungry… I’m tired… I want to go home… I want I want I want… It was like looking after a child.
She saw some lights on the road ahead of her. Not lights like those of traffic. These lights were stretched across the entire road, and didn’t seem to be moving. She leaned forward and squinted, her eyesight not what it had once been.
“What now?” Betsy scowled. And then she saw it too. “Looks like a road blockage. I saw this on a movie once. They’re probably looking for a murderer or something.”
As they got closer, Hilary saw that there were half a dozen vehicles parked long ways across the road. She slowed down. A man in Army uniform stepped forward, raising his hand as if ordering them to stop. Hilary did so and wound down her window as he made his way to the side of the car. He bent down to the window, resting one hand on the roof.
“Hello, Ladies,” he smiled, actually quite relieved that he was not having to deal with anything more threatening than a couple of kindly looking grannies. There had been reports of rogue gangs testing the resolve of National Guard units at checkpoints all over the country. He hadn’t personally encountered any yet, but he was certain it would be only a matter of time.
“Hello, young man,” Hilary smiled back. “Are you looking for a fugiteer?”
“Huh?”
“A fugitive, she means,” Betsy corrected, glancing disapprovingly at Hilary. “You’ll have to excuse my friend. She’s a bit dim sometimes.”
The officer frowned in puzzlement, deciding not to answer the rather odd question. “Um… Where are you ladies heading?”
“Connecticut,” Hilary told him. “My Judy said we should go there. Perhaps you know her. She’s very important. Works for the President.”
“Oh God,” Betsy sighed, “you don’t miss an opportunity, do you? The whole darn world knows your Judy works for the President. My son works for
the government too. He’s real important.” She was referring not to Harry, who worked for the Los Angeles Post, but to her eldest son.
“So where is he now, eh?” Hilary snapped. “When was the last time you heard from him? I’ve never even seen him visit you. I suppose you’re going to tell me he’s some kind of spy or something.”
Betsy sneered haughtily. “He’s always abroad. That’s why you never see him around. But he writes to me all the time. Naturally, I can’t tell you what he does. It’s all need to know. Very top secret.” The truth was that Betsy didn’t really understand what he did either.
Watching the two women bicker, the amused officer ran a hand through his brush cut, thinking,just wait until I tell the guys about this one . He was almost reluctant to interrupt, but he had a job to do. “I’m sorry, ladies. All Interstate travel has been banned by Presidential order.”
Betsy folded her arms and allowed herself a self-satisfied grin. “There you go. Maybe your Judy isn’t so smart after all. She tells you to go north, and then the President tells us we can’t. I don’t know why I listened to you in the first place.”
“Listen, young man,” Hilary said firmly to the officer, as if addressing a small child. “My daughter is very important, and she says we should go to Upstate New York. Now I demand an explanation. What the hell is going on?”
“The war, Ma’am. It’s…”
“War?” Betsy exclaimed. “Don’t be silly. That’s on the other side of the world.”
The officer shook his head. Just my luck, he thought. I’ve found the only two people on Earth who haven’t got a clue what’s going on. “Didn’t you know?” he said, visibly perplexed. “Our nation’s been attacked with nuclear weapons. We’re at war.”
Comprehension dawned on Hilary. She raised her eyebrows disapprovingly at the officer. “I know what’s going on here,” she said conspiratorially, wagging her finger at him. “You’re a drug addict, aren’t you? Oh yes, I know about what young people do.” She turned to Betsy and whispered. “There’s this drug called LCD. It causes young people to imagine things.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Betsy sneered, pointing at the officer. “He’s a soldier. Look how immaculate his uniform is. He wouldn’t take LCD. I doubt he’d even take Aspirin.” She smiled kindly at the soldier. “’Specially with atonomic bombs going off all over the place. Isn’t that right, young man?”
“Er… yes, Ma’am,” he said, hesitating. “Listen, perhaps you might want to try the back roads. It’s just the Interstates that are closed. Or even head for Baltimore. You’ll find out more information there.”
Hilary’s eyes brightened with comprehension as she recalled what Judy had told her. “Oh, yes, of course. The war. Atonomic bombs. The Japs have attacked us.” She nudged Betsy. “The Japs.”
Betsy scowled angrily. “Darn it. They just never leave us alone do they? Well, Hil, we beat ‘em before. We’ll do it again. Thanks to young men like this one,” she beamed at the young soldier. “I bet the Japs aren’t so smartly turned out. Slitty-eyed little runts.”
The officer looked down at his combat fatigues, slightly embarrassed. “Thank you, Ma’am. Now, as I said, if you head back to Baltimore and…”
Betsy cut him off. “You don’t know of anywhere I can pee, do you?”
FEMA GOVERNMENT BUNKER, MOUNT WEATHER
There were two broadcasting studios within the Mount Weather complex, each of them decorated to suit a different mood. One was an exact replica of the Oval Office; the other adorned with austere oak paneling and lined with books. Given that the White House had been destroyed, it was the latter set that Halligan chose from which to make his first address to the nation. It would be broadcast live on every radio wavelength, digital and terrestrial television channel in the United States and many other nations.
The director counted down from five to one. Mounted high on a wall behind the camera was a small yellow bulb above a plastic sign captioned ‘ON AIR’. The bulb lit up. Halligan knew that the eyes of the world were now on him.
“Hello, my fellow Americans,” he began, “and to all those watching around the world. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is George Halligan, Speaker of the House of Representatives. For the time being, I am Acting President of the United States, and it is in that capacity that I address you on this most tragic of days.
“First, let me begin by explaining how I come to be here. As you may know, President Mitchell has been undergoing emergency surgery for a suspected heart condition. In his absence, Secretary of Defense Paul Nielsen assumed the responsibilities of Acting President. However, for reasons that shall become clearer in the days and weeks to come, Mr. Nielsen has been duly relieved of command. So here I am.
“Many of you watching will have lost homes, loved ones and livelihoods in the nuclear attack that has left both our country and the Russian Federation severely damaged. I too have lost loved ones. My wife and two children. So I know what many of you are going through. The grief, the heartache, the emptiness. You might be asking yourself why such a terrible event has happened, and how it could have been allowed to happen. I also ask myself these questions. I wish I had an answer, but I don’t.
“The fact is that America has survived this ordeal. We may be bloodied, but we’re still alive. Less than half an hour ago, I negotiated with my Russian counterpart an immediate cessation to hostilities. As I speak, both American and Russian nuclear bombers are returning to their respective bases, although forces on both sides remain on extremely high alert. We are working with the Russian government to reduce alert levels to peacetime status at the earliest possible time. There is no point pretending. Our nation has been severely crippled by this awful conflict. Houston, Seattle and Washington D.C. are gone. Hundreds of towns and villages will be uninhabitable for many years, due to blast and radiation effects. Russia has sustained equally calamitous damage. But we can take some consolation in the knowledge that it could have been far worse. The damage is severe, but it could have been total.
“Although the war is over, some aspects of our daily lives will remain changed for at least the foreseeable future. The United States of America still exists under a State of Emergency, and the Government is operating under certain extraordinary powers. For the time being, Interstate travel is restricted to military and essential personnel only. Commercial domestic and international flights will be heavily curtailed. Economic mechanisms have been frozen at pre-war status. Strict rationing of food, fuel and medical supplies will continue. Civil disorder and crime will be dealt with harshly, as will black marketeering and hoarding. Over the coming days, you will receive information from your local authorities concerning details of each of these measures, among others, and how they affect you.
“America was built on the indomitable spirit of its people. Those who pioneered our great nation did so by working together, by harnessing their resources and by treating with compassion those less fortunate than themselves. And these qualities will ensure that, once again, the United States of America prevails and prospers.
“The war is over. Now the recovery begins. For the first time in its history, the American mainland has been directly attacked by a foreign power. But, as we face the tough times ahead, let us not do so with bitterness and hate. Let us do so with hope and forgiveness. Today is not the end of the American story, merely the beginning of a new chapter.
“Wherever you are, Good night, God bless you. And God bless the United States of America.”
FEMA SPECIAL FACILITY, OLNEY, MARYLAND
Jo had seen it so many times in the eyes of relatives. The hope, the fear, the numbness. That was one aspect of her job with which she had never quite felt comfortable; the knowledge that her words were capable of invoking such extreme emotion. Of destroying lives, hopes and dreams.
She faced the First Lady just as she had thousands of relatives before. It was no easier, no harder than ever; a fact that struck her as somewhat ironic considering how many people had alr
eady died today.
“It was a difficult operation,” she began. “And it wasn’t made any easier by the delay in obtaining treatment. Your husband’s chances of survival were fifty-fifty at best.”
Margaret’s brow knotted in anxiety. Her jaw slackened as she braced herself for the news that she had just become a widow.
Jo took a deep breath. “But I think he’s going to be just fine,” she smiled.
Margaret didn’t cry, didn’t smile. She simply relaxed. Her posture loosened and she closed her eyes in quiet relief. Having already prepared for and faced the worst, the news that Jo had just delivered came as a bonus to what she had been expecting.
Jo placed a hand on the First Lady’s shoulder. Margaret looked up at her from beneath heavy eyelids.
“So is yours,” she remarked.
“Huh?”
“Your husband is going to be just fine too.”
Jo gave her a quizzical look. Before she could say anything, a figure appeared before her. He had somehow sneaked into the room without her noticing. He had always been good at that.
“So where were you while we were saving the world?” he chided, a corner of his mouth curling into a mischievous grin.
“Lewis?” It took a moment to register. She covered her mouth in shock. “I thought Margaret… I mean, Mrs. Mitchell said you were on the President’s plane.”
“They threw me off.” He shrugged. “Something about not having a valid boarding pass. Hell, saving the world is easier when your feet are on the ground anyway.”
Jo ran over to her husband and threw her arms around him, finally allowing her emotions a release. She sobbed into his shoulder; tears that contained grief for what had been lost and relief that it hadn’t been worse. Relief that she and her husband had survived. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much emotion had been festering inside her. Once she started crying, she didn’t know whether she could ever stop. Lewis understood. He’d been bottling up a few things himself. But no more.
FOREWORD Page 64