Lethal Trajectories

by Michael Conley

  After greeting everyone and sharing a short prayer, Veronica opened the meeting to questions and concerns.

  Jake Hawkins spoke up immediately. “I’m glad we’re finally getting over this pity party we’ve been on and gettin’ something done through this co-op you and Bill Princeton are setting up.”

  Another hand went up: “Everything’s changing so fast, Pastor. I just can’t wrap my head around it. Last week I was scared silly by how much it would cost for gas to drive back and forth to my job in St. Peter. This week I’m not even sure there’ll be gas available at all—or a job, for that matter.”

  Veronica nodded and thought, I’ll need to talk to Bill Princeton to see what we’re doing about carpooling outside of Mankato.

  “My house is a drafty old sieve,” said someone else, “and the propane I use to heat it is costing a fortune. With my arthritis and rheumatism, I need to keep it heated at seventy-five degrees or more. I’m not sure what I’ll do.”

  Veronica’s heart ached. The co-op’s recommendation that thermostats be set at sixty degrees isn’t going to work for a lot of older people like her. Maybe weatherizing her house will help, but it’s not the total answer.

  Veronica was surprised at the number of concerns directly relating to basic survival needs. She let the audience vent for a while longer, knowing the sense of community and support it was building. She knew from her Twelve Step recovery group that people felt stronger and less alone when sharing their experiences with others, and this was no different. It was time, however, to talk about something more positive.

  “Thank you all for sharing your fears. For those here for the first time, we are building a Life Challenges Co-op to address many of the challenges brought up tonight. There’s strength in working together, and I’ve asked Bill Princeton, the interim director of the co-op, and other members of the executive committee to speak to you tonight about our plans. It’s a work in progress, but Bill and his team have done a remarkable job. Bill, would you c’mon up and tell us about the co-op?”

  For the next hour, Bill and his team explained the co-op’s plan, answered questions, and made a plea for volunteers. He connected with them almost immediately as he matched the challenges brought up earlier with specific ways the co-op could help them. Spirits lifted, and there was a new excitement in the air. It was the first message of hope that many had heard in quite some time.

  Jake Hawkins piped up again: “Great job, Bill, and that goes for your entire team. For the first time since this crap all started to happen, I’m startin’ to think we can do something about it.”

  Veronica nodded and closed the meeting with a prayer. She invited everyone to stick around for coffee and fellowship, and a good number accepted her invitation. The church didn’t empty until well after ten, and she stayed to help Martha and Waldo clean up. As she mopped up the puddle around the coffee urn, she smiled and thought, Thank you, Lord, for bringing us all together, and for not giving us more than we can handle together.

  Exhilarated, Veronica pulled on her coat and opened the church door, only to be startled by a frigid gust of wind that left her breathless. She sighed as she stepped out into the first snow of the year—early even by Mankato standards—and thought, It’s going to be a long winter.

  56

  Walter Reed National Military Medical Center

  26 October 2017

  Lyman Burkmeister rested comfortably in his hospital suite. No longer hooked to IVs, monitors, or tubes, he relaxed into a feeling of acceptance and contentment. With the exception of a nagging headache, he felt better today than at any time since entering Walter Reed over two weeks ago. He was mildly optimistic that he might even get out of the hospital for one last trip home before the end.

  He had visited regularly with Clayton since entering the hospital and followed events as best he could. He even made a few calls on Clayton’s behalf, though he discontinued the practice after it became too exhausting. He was looking forward to an early afternoon visit with Elizabeth Cartright, one of his favorite cabinet members, to discuss tactics for what looked to be a contentious vice-presidential nomination process.

  He was napping when he heard Elizabeth’s soft voice saying, “Mr. President, is this a good time for us to meet?”

  “Hello, Elizabeth,” he said tiredly, with a big smile, “so nice to see you—please sit down.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President, and thank you for your time. I’ll try not to take much of it, but I do appreciate your meeting with me. How are you feeling today?”

  “I’m feeling much better except for this nagging headache.” He hit the remote to elevate himself to a seated position and then rubbed his eyes vigorously, trying to clear his blurred vision. Something wasn’t right—he felt clammy, and his mild headache suddenly erupted into a massive explosion in his head. His mouth refused to shape the words his brain was instructing it to say, as though the rest of his body was disconnecting from his brain. What’s happening to me? Why can’t I talk?

  In one last futile act, he shook his head violently to regain his senses before collapsing back on his pillow. Staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, his last conscious thought was, I’ll be with you shortly, Karen my love. Then the deep silence of a coma relieved him of all pain and worldly cares.

  Elizabeth Cartright shouted out in panic, “Mr. President! Mr. President!” A doctor appeared almost instantly and shone a light in Burkmeister’s eyes; in less than a minute more, a full medical team with a convoy of special equipment arrived on the scene.

  Elizabeth stepped back and watched in horror as the medical team did everything in its power to reverse the catastrophic failures taking place throughout Burkmeister’s body, but it was soon apparent that this was a battle they could not win.

  She moved to a corner of the room not occupied by frantic medical personnel and called Clayton McCarty, who dropped everything and left for the hospital. But Lyman Burkmeister had made it clear he was not to be kept alive by artificial means, and his brilliant and productive life soon slipped away as one bodily system after another shut down.

  He was almost gone by the time Clayton arrived, and the doctors made it clear that he would soon die from a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

  Clayton and Elizabeth gave each other a comforting hug as Clayton thought, Amazing, the cerebral hemorrhage will do what the pancreatic cancer had yet to do—take his life. He was already feeling a loss that would haunt him in the weeks to come.

  The first news bulletin of the president’s medical emergency went out at 1:54 p.m. and dominated the news thereafter. About midway through the evening news, the White House issued an official release. It read:

  President Lyman Burkmeister passed away at 5:49 p.m. today at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. The cause of death was a massive cerebral hemorrhage. President Burkmeister was admitted to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center on Tuesday, October 10, for treatment of pancreatic cancer. He was 67 years old. Funeral arrangements will be announced.

  Few events shock the national psyche more than the death of a president. The loss of a father figure and its subtle reminder of human vulnerability and mortality compounded the grief. Clayton McCarty grieved along with everyone else in the White House. While he’d known Burkmeister was terminally ill, he had expected him to live for at least a few more weeks, maybe months. I’d love to have just one more chance to say good-bye to him, he thought mournfully.

  Washington, DC

  2 November 2017

  A state funeral is the highest posthumous honor the nation can bestow on a person. That solemn occasion, steeped in tradition and rich in history, gives the nation an opportunity to pay homage to its fallen leader while individual citizens mourn in their own private ways. The time-tested protocols are precise, but a president’s final wishes are always honored. As a humble and unpretentious man, Lyman Burkmeister had asked the White House to keep it as low key as possible—an impossible feat as his passing dominated the 24/7 international n
ews cycle.

  The flag-draped coffin of the fallen former president was solemnly escorted in the ceremonial procession down Pennsylvania Avenue. The haunting drumbeat and rider-less horse accompanying the caisson carrying the president’s body brought tears to the eyes of the multitudes lining the street. Television cameras captured the moment, and people throughout the world felt the pain. A ceremony had been held in the Capitol Rotunda, where the president laid in state for a grieving public to pay their last respects.

  The funeral at the Washington National Cathedral drew guests from around the world. Foreign dignitaries, heads of state, royalty and high-level government officials were seated according to the strictest of protocols, and the service was conducted by the late president’s trusted pastor.

  Clayton McCarty gave a touching twelve-minute eulogy that celebrated the man behind the title. While acknowledging the former president’s many accomplishments, he devoted most of his speech to Lyman Burkmeister, his friend and mentor. With heartfelt words—often spoken in a choking voice with long, deep pauses—he described the man he loved and respected. He shared stories of his courage, dignity, integrity, deep spiritual convictions and the genuine love and concern he had for people. He explained some of the ways that he handled his presidency after learning of his terminal illness and the wishes he had expressed for all the people of the world.

  Following the service, Burkmeister and McCarty parted company for the last time. President Burkmeister’s flag-draped coffin was put on a funeral train for the trip back home to Ohio and burial next to his beloved wife, Karen. McCarty left for the short drive to the White House. It was the end of an era.

  The White House

  3 November 2017

  In a sad but very real way, the passing of Lyman Burkmeister caused at least two important and positive things to happen. The first was the shift of the national mood from panic to mourning. As Americans grieved, they also realized that though the president was gone, life would still go on as always, regardless of the crisis they were now facing. It dulled the sharper edges of their fears; whatever came, they would muddle through and survive. While it was too early to quantify the change through surveys and polls, many could sense that something was changing.

  The second thing was the extraordinary meeting of world leaders occasioned by the somber ceremony. Most noteworthy was the invitation extended by President McCarty and accepted by Chairman Lin and Wang Peng to stay at the White House while in Washington for the funeral.

  The state visit provided an ideal opportunity for Clayton and Jack to meet with their Chinese counterparts, this time with public knowledge, which sent a powerful message about the spirit of collaboration to the world. One such meeting was held in the president’s private quarters on the second floor of the White House. There, on a cold, damp night held off by the warm glow of the fireplace, history was made.

  “How are you doing, Clayton?” asked Lin Cheng, with concern in his voice.

  “I’m going to miss him. He was a powerful mentor and supporter of what we are trying to accomplish.”

  “Yes, he was,” Lin Cheng replied thoughtfully. “I remember well the conversation I had with him immediately following the Chunxiao Incident. Despite past differences between our countries, he seemed open to a constructive dialogue and did not leap into the condemnation of China that I’m sure many of his followers expected of him. Together with the good advice I was getting from Wang Peng, I started to see possibilities in friendlier relations with the United States.”

  Nodding appreciatively, Clayton asked, “How are things going for you? Is your Politburo giving you a hard time?”

  “So far so good, Clayton; they’re not jumping for joy over détente with the United States, but they’re starting to see the possibilities.”

  “How about you, Cheng? How do you personally feel about the way things are going?” Clayton could see his question made Wang Peng uneasy and surmised that Peng’s boss was not one to discuss personal feelings.

  “I’m comfortable with where we’re going,” Lin replied, with no hesitation. “I have no illusions about how difficult it’s going to be for both of our countries in the coming months, but we’ll weather the storm. I’ve been concerned for many years over the escalation of this maniacal cold war between our nations, and I deeply hope we can use this crisis as a springboard toward a more collaborative relationship.”

  Clayton felt a warm wave of gratitude rising through his chest. When he thought about the climate-change challenges that went hand in hand with the global energy and economic issues, he knew their only chance was to act collaboratively. He thought carefully about how to frame what he was about to suggest.

  “I share your concerns, and I think there are excellent opportunities for our two countries to work together after the current crisis is over. If we can learn from the immediate crisis and agree to pursue the relationship together beyond its resolution, it could be a very different world.” Lin Cheng nodded in thoughtful agreement.

  “I know this is short notice, Cheng, but would you be willing to consider addressing a joint session of our Congress to share some of your hopes and aspirations for the future? If you’d be willing to consider it, I could arrange for it to happen within the next couple of days.”

  Lin Cheng poured another cup of tea as he thought about Clayton’s suggestion. Clayton, Jack, and Wang Peng tried not to let their anxiety leak out into the silent room. They knew as well as Lin that this could be a pivotal moment in history. He stirred his tea slowly and sipped, buying a little extra time to think, and then answered with seven words that would shape Sino-American relationships for years to come.

  “Yes, I believe I would be interested.”

  57

  The Winter of the Perfect Storm

  November 2017—March 2018

  At the time of his October address to Congress, Clayton McCarty had no idea his perfect storm metaphor would become a gut-wrenching reality by November. There were simply no precedents for the explosive fury of the storm.

  The early shock waves from the Saudi crisis, in the form of rising energy prices in October, intensified in November and worsened thereafter with each passing day. Entire sectors of the economy staggered. Airline travel plunged and with it the hotel, restaurant, and vacation travel sectors dependent on airline traffic. Global commerce slowed to a crawl as de facto tariffs, in the form of increased shipping and distribution costs, acted like a brake on economic activity. The increased costs of extracting, processing, and shipping raw materials made virtually all end products more expensive. The price of food skyrocketed, reflecting the built-in cost components of fossil-fuel derivatives such as fertilizers, herbicides, and pesticides, not to mention other oil-based production costs. Consumer discretionary spending cratered as every spare dollar went toward the purchase of gas, food, or heat.

  The global financial markets crumbled as unemployment rates in industrialized countries eventually reached Depression-era levels in excess of 25 percent. Safety nets evaporated as workers cashed in household savings, 401(k) plans, and other investments just to make ends meet. Families and communities focused increasingly on meeting the bare essentials of their existence as government institutions, overwhelmed at all levels, were unable to meet the needs of the citizenry. Looting and civil unrest were on the rise in America, and law enforcement efforts—like everything else—were hampered by a lack of funding. Famines and water shortages were taking their toll globally, and the ensuing migration of destitute populations in search of food and water created a proliferation of local and regional conflicts.

  The unshakable belief in technology as the panacea for conquering all challenges faltered in the face of the immutable laws of supply and demand. Even Mother Nature joined the fury by producing the worst winter in recorded history. For good reason, historians would later draw on McCarty’s challenge and dub the period from October 2017 through March 2018 the Winter of the Perfect Storm.

  Like everything else,
the American political scene was in chaos. In an off-year election, the few incumbents forced to run for office were thrown out. President McCarty’s vice presidential nomination of Elizabeth Cartright was finally approved in early December, after a stubborn challenge from Senator Collingsworth and his allies. Congressional approval was also given for the newly formed Department of Energy, Transportation, and Climate-change headed up by Secretary Peter Canton.

  Wellington Crane and Senator Tom Collingsworth initiated their road shows shortly after President McCarty’s October address to Congress. With the so-called McCarty Manifesto clearly in their sights, they launched their Taking Back America campaign with phenomenal success. In each of the first five cities holding rallies, they drew overflow crowds. Crane was tireless in his attacks on McCarty and his attempts to take away American liberties by rationing gasoline. “Big government run amok” became his mantra, and he seemed unstoppable.

  As the perfect storm worsened, his audience started to change. Even die-hard followers grew leery of complaints and demands for quick fixes without potential solutions to back them up. When pressed, neither Wellington Crane nor Tom Collingsworth had any ideas to alleviate the crisis. Like the proverbial emperor without clothes, they were found to be long on bluster but light on solutions, and with it their appeal began to wane. By Christmas, they were forced to discontinue their road shows because of embarrassingly poor turnouts.

  Never one to miss a beat, Wellington Crane declared victory and announced the closing of his road show as part of his patriotic effort to save fuel and reduce hardships for followers unable to attend for financial reasons. As a sop, he agreed to half an hour per day of increased airtime (and advertising revenues) to ensure that all Americans had access to his wisdom and experience.