Patriots Awakening

by R. M. Strauhs

  Sharon was a pretty woman, one-year the President’s junior, but looked at least ten years younger. The misunderstanding about their age difference had been a subject of Washington gossip for some time. Even when she was on several television shows before her husband became President, the former Sharon Armstrong explained the age difference to a skeptical host and audience, who she was sure didn’t believe her. She figured someone would eventually look up her genealogy and report the truth. With her husband being one of the shortest President’s ever, and her being but five feet three, the joke was about the miniature White House occupants.

  The First Lady weighed in at a mere 108 pounds but quickly became known as a dynamo around the White House and D.C. No task was too large for her to tackle, and she always accomplished what she set out to do. She knew how to work with people and get them to do things her way without being snippy like some of the other First Ladies had been. Now for the first time since they met in their junior year of college, Sharon Armstrong-Lawson had a look of total distraction on her face as if she was fighting some battle she couldn’t win but was determined to die trying.

  The President’s suite in the secret Montana bunker was as fancy as the Ritz, and Clarence had voiced his disapproval at the waste of taxpayer dollars sunk into these lavish quarters by the prior President. He was pretty much a common man, untainted by the power of the Presidency. His opinion was why should he live in total luxury in the event of a national emergency that would bring him and his family here, while so many citizens of the United States wouldn’t have enough security for a slim chance of survival? Their quarters consisted of a gigantic living room, large den, gourmet kitchen, five large bedrooms, and an altogether too opulent dining room that could seat twenty people. Another connecting room had been converted to a huge play area for his two young children when he became President. The master bedroom had two walk-in closets larger than most people’s bedrooms, with adjoining dressing rooms. His and her master baths were decorated with the finest Italian marble. He wondered what fool dreamed up this place and what that person thought the President would do with such a grand dining room.

  Sharon continued her pacing about the bedroom, wringing her hands. “Clarence, there’s something about this entire asteroid thing that just doesn’t fit.” She stopped by an end table, and stuffed a half smoked cigarette into the crystal ash tray. “Don’t give me that look. I’m telling you something is bad wrong.”

  “Sweetheart, I know how hard it is to accept the fact that in a few days everything will be gone. All the people, all the animals, hell, for that matter, all the world will be just so much space debris circling the sun.”

  She stood for a moment staring at him, and then pointed a finger. “No, something’s not right, I tell you. My mind keeps screaming at me to remember something important that has to do with all this.” She plopped down in a rocker, lighting another cigarette. “I’m not going to rest until I figure it out. Christ I need some strong black coffee.”

  The President chuckled and picked up the telephone by the bed. “Mark, could you get us a fresh pot of strong coffee and a couple of mugs?” He reluctantly climbed out of bed, and moved to a recliner next to this woman he had fallen in love with at first sight. The President didn’t smoke, but now, he reached for the pack of cigarettes, withdrew one and held his hand out for her lighter. He lit up, then examined the lighter with the Presidential seal embossed in gold on its side.

  What a shame for his Presidency to end like this. He’d had an overwhelming mandate from the people, with sixty-four percent of the popular vote. His platform had been simple. Do what was right for the United States first, the world be damned! Then, and only then, he’d work on helping the rest of the world. He campaigned on a platform of regulating how much of an American-owned company’s manufacturing could be done outside the country.

  Sharon soon interrupted his thoughts. “Honey, since when do you smoke?”

  He laughed. “Since now I guess. I quit the nasty things when I was seventeen years old and I’ve wanted a damned cigarette ever since. Now . . . well, hell, why not? I notice you’re also smoking today. How long since you’ve had one?”

  “I was in high school. I know it isn’t ‘PC’ for the First Lady to smoke but like you said, why not? I could drink myself into oblivion but I want my wits about me.” Sharon massaged her head with both hands, tousling her short brown hair. Something had happened that she only briefly heard on the news or some where. But what was it? Her temples throbbed trying so hard to remember what it was. She stared at the rich olive carpet, completely distracted as Clarence spoke to her.

  “Sharon?”

  “Oh, sorry. Dammit, Clarence, I refuse to believe this whole thing is happening! I need an aspirin or my head is going to blow off the top of my shoulders.” She rummaged in her large purse and finally found a small aspirin bottle.

  “I was saying.” Clarence stopped, cleared his throat and blinked his tearing eyes. “The thing that hurts me most is the kids never having a chance to experience any of the things we’ve had. They’re so young and innocent. They’ll never graduate, get married, have kids of their own, a career, or anything.”

  Their children, Barry, age twelve, and Raechel, only ten, meant the world to him. Outside the political arena, his family was all he loved and cared about. Clarence was raised by his Godfather, Senator Jeff Bolswick, after his own parents were killed in a car wreck when he was six. The wreck not only claimed his parents’ lives but the life of his older brother, John, and his younger sister, Anna. They were on their way to Children’s Hospital where Clarence was recovering from an appendectomy surgery. He’d never learned why the family car went out of control, flipped upside down, and slid down the embankment into the ice-covered river. The car broke through the ice and sank in forty feet of freezing water. In one swoop, his family was all gone, and Clarence was an orphan. Now this. It just wasn’t fair.

  The door opened, and Mark Townsend stepped in with a silver tray containing an insulated coffee carafe and two large mugs. Sharon had started to say something but waited until Mark left. She lifted the heavy mug, sipping the hot dark coffee to swallow the pills. A little frown gathered between her eyes. “Clarence, do you remember Doctor Vince Vogel, the astronomer at Hidel University? He was one of my Professors in college. Since you first came to the Senate, he and I have chatted many times through the years. A couple of weeks before we left Washington, Sarah handed me a message from Doctor Vogel, asking that I call him immediately. It was urgent. I tried to get in touch with him within an hour of his call but kept getting a busy signal. If an asteroid was going to destroy all of Earth, why would he bother telling me it was urgent? See what I mean? It’s the little things adding up to something important.”

  The President tried to smile, but it didn’t work. “Honey, I suppose he was like anyone else, totally frustrated by it all. Who knows how many people are reacting in strange ways right now. Maybe he wanted to come with us to this shelter.”

  “No. I feel there had to be some important reason. If this asteroid is really going to destroy the world, I think he would have gone home to Pennsylvania to be with his family. Instead, he called me. No doubt he knew I would call him back, but I’d bet the message was actually for you. And, there’s something else. I know you don’t have a chance to watch much TV news, but think of all the strange happenings at observatories. A large group of people were killed in Texas and their equipment destroyed. Then several astronomers in England or France or somewhere came up missing.” She sat down, clasping her shaking hands together. “Clarence, is there anyone you can trust or get to verify that there really is an asteroid? Why would such a thing be a hoax? If it’s all a hoax, then why? What’s their plan? For that matter, who are “they? We need to get those questions answered as soon as possible.”

  The President reached for the red phone set into the arm of the recliner, pressed a button and said, “I want to talk to William Carter at NASA.”

&nb
sp; “Also may I ask why you brought General Walker here? Something about the man gives me the willies. Perhaps it’s his shifty eyes. He always seems to have that stupid cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his face.”

  “Well darlin’, he’s here because he’s Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and he’s one of the people on the list to come here in case of a national emergency. You know, the funny part about the entire list of people here was put together back when Eisenhower was President. Not the people by name, but their position in the government or military. Of course, the national emergency back then was nuclear war. You’re right about Walker, though. He’s a little strange at times, but he has quite a load on his shoulders, being Chairman. He seems to know what he’s doing.”

  “Glad you think so,” she huffed. “I still have a weird feeling about him. Are you sure he can be trusted?”

  Before he could answer, the phone rang. He punched the speaker button. “Yes?”

  “Sir, about your call to Mister Carter at NASA. We’re unable to make a connection,” a communications officer said.

  “Keep trying.” The President turned off the phone.

  “They can’t raise NASA?” Sharon whispered. “Don’t they have the best equipment? Isn’t that strange?”

  “Not a peep, and yes that’s damned strange. Why would all their communications be out? Christ! You are right they have every damned backup for communications imaginable.” He picked up the receiver and said, “Get me the Commander at the Virginia site.” This time, he silently waited for the operator at the complex to call back. Clarence lit another cigarette and attempted to blow a smoke ring, glancing at his watch a half dozen times in the next two minutes before the phone rang.

  When the operator told him they could not make contact with the Virginia site, he got upset and yelled. “That’s plain impossible! Has anyone in communications even considered that our system here is screwed? Please page General Walker and send him to my quarters immediately.”

  The President was even angrier fifteen minutes later when General Walker still hadn’t arrived. He strode to the door in their quarters, placed his hand on the small screen that identified him, and the door slid open. Two Marine Gunnery Sergeants in battle fatigues stood outside the door, their M24 fully automatic rifles slung on their shoulders. President Lawson told one of the men, “I called for General Walker to report to me fifteen minutes ago. Find him, and bring him here. He gives you any shit, arrest him, and put him in irons!”

  Both Marines looked at the President strangely, but said, “Yes, Sir!” and walked down the hall toward the command center. One of the Marines spoke into his radio. “All military personnel. Find General Walker, and escort him to the President’s quarters immediately.” He released the button, then pushed it again. “By force if necessary. Ordered by the President.”

  The President returned to the sitting room, and slumped down in a chair. “You know, Sharon, you might be right about Walker. That son-of-a-bitch had better have a real good excuse for ignoring me or he’s going to live out the rest of his life in the brig.”

  Ten minutes later the radio communication speaker announced, “Sir, this is Major Hayes. General Walker is nowhere to be found in the complex. He was seen about an hour ago in the elevator heading to the surface.”

  Of course, who would interfere with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs if he wanted to go to the surface? Clarence answered, “Any visual on him topside?”

  “No, Sir, and it looks as though a truck is missing, Sir. There are orders no one’s supposed to leave the site, but someone drove off.”

  “Thank you, Major. Would you meet me in the communications center?”

  “I’m here now, Sir.”

  “Good, I’ll be there in ten.”

  Marine Major Bob Hayes was in charge of security at the complex and had previously been in charge of military security at the White House. The President had known the Major for several years. “Man, I’m glad Bob is here,” the President mumbled as he hastily pulled on a pair of jeans.

  “Hon, I’ll be back as soon as I can. One way or another, I’m going to find out what is going on around here.” He strode out of the room. Two new guards replaced the two he had sent on the mission to find Walker, and as the President exited his quarters, he politely nodded, and said, “Gentlemen.”

  When he walked into the com center, Major Hayes greeted him with bad news. “Sir, the communication problem is because our entire system has been sabotaged.”

  The President shook his head. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? My questions are who and why? Why would someone want the complex isolated? Why wouldn’t they want us to be in direct contact with the outside?”

  Both men stared at one another, not speaking for a moment, then Major Hayes asked, “Sir, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Yes. If someone sabotaged our communications, what else have they done?” The President’s stomach churned.

  Without answering, Major Hayes spoke into his radio, “Attention all military personnel. This is Major Hayes. I want an immediate search instituted, code 21. I repeat, code 21.”

  President Lawson thought, Christ, I hope Sharon has no idea what code 21 is. She’d lose it if she thought we had some explosive device in the complex. I’ll personally rip the heart out of the bastard responsible for this.

  Major Hayes had to repeat himself, “Sir?”

  “Uh, yes. Sorry Major, I was hoping my wife had no idea what a code 21 is.”

  “That’s what I wanted to speak to you about, Sir. Do you think it might be a wise idea for you and your family to evacuate?”

  “To where? Unless we can get in touch with NASA or Virginia, there’s nowhere safe to go.”

  “There might be, Sir, if I can raise them. There are a number of Army Ranger units that have prepared for something like this for quite some time and they have set up some pretty sophisticated hideaways and equipment.”

  “The hell you say.” The President asked, “Why don’t I know about all this?”

  “Because they haven’t done it officially, Mister President. They’ve done it on their own to not only protect their families in an emergency but to have a good fighting force available if needed.”

  “I want filled in on that force, but right now I need to get back to my quarters. Major, stay in touch, and keep me posted on anything you find. What’s the chance of our communications coming back online? Any idea?”

  “Whoever wrecked our systems did a good job of it, Sir. It’ll take as long as twenty-four hours to get our equipment back to normal.”

  Clarence started to leave but hesitated and turned back. “Major, let me ask you something else. Do you think the asteroid thing is real, or is there something else at work here?”

  Major Hayes looked square at the President. “I don’t know, Sir. It sure looks suspicious that someone would want to isolate you from the country, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, yes it does. Let me know, Major.”

  ~~~

  The President entered his quarters. Sharon ran to him and grabbed his arms. “Has someone planted explosives here? Shouldn’t we get the children out?”

  “Security is checking. The place was completely clean when we came in, so I doubt they’ll find anything.”

  As they sat on the sofa the President said, “You know, I’m about as tired and exhausted as I’ve ever been.” The next thing he was aware of was awakening with a start right where he had sat down. Large red numbers glowed from the ornate wall clock, and he realized all the lights were dimmed. Wondering where Sharon was, he stood up and scanned the room. She sat at a small desk in the corner. The lamp on the desk lit the top of the desk without spreading light about the room. Sharon leaned back in the chair, staring at the wall and tapping her fingers lightly on the desktop.

  He cleared his throat. “What are you doing? It’s three o’clock.” He crossed the room to where Sharon sat. He saw she had been scribbling on her pink White House stationary. “What’s all
that?”

  “Oh, I’m jotting down notes and trying to make heads or tails of things.”

  “So tell me what you came up with.”

  “So far, just a bunch of random thoughts. Professor Vogel and I have talked about asteroids many times. He told me a few months ago that with all the new far-ranging detection capabilities, we should have a good six month warning of any asteroid large enough to cause major damage. We would know about the smaller asteroids several weeks or months before impact. Yet, here we have this huge whopper heading right for us, and supposedly, according to NORAD’s reports, it was only discovered sixteen days ago. Now I ask you, what’s wrong with this picture?”

  The President simply shrugged.

  Sharon continued. “I placed a phone call to Professor Vogel’s office the minute we got word about this asteroid. This time I got through, but our conversation lasted exactly half-way through my first question before we were disconnected. The line went dead. I tried to call him back, but there was no ring, no busy signal, nothing. I found my list of numbers for the University and called four different numbers for his assistants. Guess what? Same damned thing on all their lines. Then I called his home. That telephone line was dead, too.” She looked at Clarence for a moment, tapping the pen on the pink sheet of paper.

  Clarence started to comment, but Sharon cut him off.

  “I then had Candice call the University Registrar’s Office, the Dean’s Office, and Student Services Office. All of their lines were clear, and as far as anyone in those offices knew, there was nothing wrong with the lines to Professor Vogel’s office or lab. I went to Candice’s office to call the professor’s home, thinking perhaps it was some problem with the White House equipment. The phone at Vogel’s house was dead as last month’s pot roast. I used the cross directory to check three of his neighbors phones. They all worked. It’s as if any and all numbers where the professor might be reached were selectively severed.”