Zero Day

by Jan Gangsei

  Addie and Alvarez passed the main Smithsonian Institution on the right, a large red sandstone building known locally as “The Castle.” From the left, Addie heard the sound of old-fashioned carnival music and squealing children as the Mall’s carousel spun, a blur of blue and gold, painted horses and dragons, and brass poles bedecked with American flags. A hollowness tugged at Addie’s core.

  She blinked and saw herself—small feet tucked in metal stirrups, hands wrapped around the cool pole, face upturned, wind lifting the hair from her neck. She could hear her own laughter, riding on the breeze like the peal of wind chimes, while her mother stood next to her holding a camera in the air. It felt like a dream. A long-forgotten dream.

  Addie cracked her neck and refocused. Time was running out.

  Straight ahead, a huge school group exited the Air and Space Museum, chaotic and disorganized, and made their way across the road onto the Mall. Addie’s heart rate accelerated. This was her chance. She watched as a harried teacher tried to rein in the wandering middle-schoolers bouncing around like pinballs, doing cartwheels on the grass and taking selfies with their phones.

  Addie glanced over her shoulder. The car trailing their jog was stationed at the corner of Independence and 7th, and she knew the advance car was up ahead at the junction of 3rd.

  If she was going to make her move, it had to be now.

  The voices of the schoolkids grew closer and louder. Agent Alvarez tapped Addie’s arm and pointed to the left.

  “Let’s go around this way,” she said.

  But Addie just nodded her head to the music she was pretending to listen to in her earbuds, even though they’d been turned off for the entire run. Without looking at Alvarez, she picked up her pace and jogged straight into the crowd of kids. She could hear Alvarez’s shouts as she charged behind her. Addie spun around, catching the agent with a well-placed foot and a quick shove to the shoulder. Before she had a chance to catch herself, Alvarez tumbled sideways between dozens of shuffling sneakers.

  And Addie was gone.

  Addie scrambled through the group of kids, threw her sweatshirt to the ground, and sprinted across the Mall. She pulled a hat from her pocket, tucked her hair beneath it, and quickly yanked the sides over her ears. Straight ahead she saw her destination—a Capital Bikeshare kiosk on Madison.

  She reached the row of bikes and leaned on the rack to catch her breath. But there was no time to waste. Alvarez was probably already on her feet by now, wondering what had just happened, where Addie had gone. Addie counted down three bikes—okay, this should be the one. She pulled on the bicycle with sweaty fingers.

  It was stuck.

  Addie’s sweat turned cold and she looked left and right. She was sure this was the right spot. It was the only stand not in clear view of her Secret Service motor detail. It was the only stand on the whole damn block. She wiped her palms on her shorts and yanked again.

  Locked tight.

  Across the Mall, sirens blared.

  Addie’s fingers clenched into fists. They were coming for her. She was almost out of time. She furiously pulled the bike to no avail, then steadied her breath and counted the bikes again. She was sure he’d said number three.

  One, two…

  Hold on. Now that she looked at it, the second bike was actually missing from the rack. So that meant she hadn’t been pulling the third, but the fourth.

  She backed up one bicycle and gave it a yank.

  It slipped easily from the rack.

  Addie hopped on and sped off. The sound of sirens faded away, replaced by the noise of everyday life. People shouting, horns honking, music pulsing from passing cars.

  For a brief moment, Addie remembered what it felt like to be free—truly free. The wind rushing through her hair. The bright sun in her eyes. And for once, nobody watching. She thought about just riding away. Pumping her legs until she reached the end of the earth, where no one could touch her.

  But she knew there was no such place.

  She turned the bike and raced down Constitution, the White House looming large to her right, and pedaled away.

  Addie pumped her legs, muscles twitching, and reached the entrance of Kogan Plaza at three minutes past four. She hopped off, steadied the bike against the wrought-iron fence, and ran inside. The university campus was crammed with students. They sat on benches, clustered around the fountain and beneath the flowering cherry blossoms. At the domed gazebo ahead, Addie caught a glimpse of pale blond hair peeking out from beneath a blue-and-gold GWU baseball cap. She almost didn’t recognize him. He never wore hats. Or cheap Windbreakers like the one zipped over his polo shirt.

  Addie steadied her breath and walked toward the stone structure. She went up the small steps to where he stood, leaning against a column.

  “Lilla,” he said. He reached out to hug her, but Addie stayed stiff.

  “Is something wrong, little one?” he asked.

  “I didn’t expect anyone to die,” she said.

  Karl’s stern face softened. “I know,” he answered. “But sometimes in war there are casualties. Sometimes we have to tell a lie so the truth can be exposed.”

  Like the nuclear attack?

  “But the Browns were innocent,” she said.

  “And they chose their own fate,” Karl answered. “No one made them run into a hail of bullets. They could have surrendered.”

  Addie breathed deeply. But you knew they wouldn’t. That nagging doubt began to creep back up in Addie’s brain. And that’s exactly why you chose them.

  “What about McQueen? Did he choose his own fate?”

  “Lilla,” Karl said, “you need to trust me. You’re aware that General McQueen was about to expose you. Aren’t you? He was gathering evidence.” He stared intently at her face, as if daring her to say more, maybe expose herself. Did he know…?

  Addie looked away.

  “Listen to me,” Karl said. “I did it to protect you.”

  “What if someone figures it out?”

  “They won’t figure it out,” Karl said. “And if they do, who will they suspect, anyway? The first person they’ll look to is the last one who was with him. Someone with a motive. Especially if there’s evidence McQueen was threatening him.”

  Karl let the words hang there. He didn’t say more. But Addie understood. If she dared make an issue out of McQueen’s death—if anyone did—all the clues would lead straight back to Darrow. She couldn’t meet Karl’s eyes.

  “Look at me, Lilla,” he said.

  She did.

  “The world is a dangerous place,” he said. “And I am the only one who can protect you. Everyone else has failed. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Karl raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good. Have you brought the program?” Karl said.

  Addie nodded. Karl held out his hand. Addie fingered the thumb drive in her pocket. She needed to know, once and for all: Was she a rook, or just a pawn? Was he willing to sacrifice her too? Just like the Browns, and McQueen. Just like all those people who lived near Turkey Point.

  “Let me come with you,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I have the program. All you need to do is get into the network and run it remotely. I’ve already created a hole for you to do it.” She had, too. It was ready and waiting. “Please, let me come with you. I’m scared. I want to come home.” She looked at him, eyes pleading. “You can make it look like something happened to me here. Now. We don’t have to wait until prom.”

  Karl’s face turned cold. “No, you know that isn’t possible. We do have to wait. The final attack must occur on April fifteenth. For Susan. No other day is acceptable. I’ve waited fifteen years for this. You, little one, can stand to wait three more days. Understand?”

  It felt like her chest was caving in. She thought of the butterfly clip, Father’s gentle hands as he’d placed it in her hair. If he loved her so much, how could he
just leave her here?

  “Yes, Father,” Addie said, gaze falling to the ground.

  “The program?”

  Addie hesitated, then pulled a thumb drive from her pocket and pressed it into Karl’s hand. He deposited it into his jacket pocket and smoothed his khaki pants, edging his shoulder away from her as he talked. “I’d like to stay and catch up, Lilla. But it’s best that we’re not seen together. I’ll be in touch. Good-bye for now.”

  “Good-bye,” Addie said.

  She started to turn away; then Karl spoke again. “Lilla.” His voice was gentle, and there was a tinge of sadness in his blue eyes. “This will be over soon, and we will have a better world. Because of you. I’m very proud.” Addie nodded, throat tight, as Karl pulled his GWU cap over his eyes and walked down the steps, disappearing into the crowd of students.

  Addie sat on a cool marble bench and tried to collect herself. She knew the Secret Service had to be going crazy by now. Helicopters circled in the distance. She wondered if they were looking for her. Addie pulled out her phone and hit Alvarez’s number on speed dial. The agent answered on the first ring.

  “Addie! Christ, are you okay? Where are you?”

  Addie faked a sob. “I’m sorry, Christina,” she said, sniffling. “I lost you and then I thought someone was following me and I freaked out. I panicked and just started running.”

  “Why didn’t you hit the emergency button on your phone?” Alvarez said.

  “I don’t know.” Addie fake-cried even harder. “I got confused. Can someone please come get me?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Someplace called Kogan Plaza, I don’t know where…”

  “I got it,” Alvarez said. “You’re at George Washington University. Just stay where you are. And dammit, hit the button on your phone so we can track you to an exact location.”

  “I will,” Addie said. She disconnected and hit the button, making sure to re-engage the GPS she’d turned off before she began her run.

  Within moments, the sound of helicopters got closer until they were hovering directly overhead. Sirens blared. A fleet of black vehicles screeched down H Street and skidded to a stop in front of the plaza entrance. Half a dozen agents leapt from the cars, guns drawn, with someone in a navy suit between them.

  Addie froze at the sight of President Webster racing toward her.

  “Addie,” he said, scooping her up in an embrace. His entire body was shaking. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  “What?” Addie blinked over and over. She’d been gone all of twenty minutes. She didn’t even think he’d notice between meetings and power lunches. The president squeezed her tightly again. “I was so afraid I’d lost you,” he said.

  “Mr. President,” one of the Secret Service agents said, scanning the tall buildings that surrounded the park. “This area has not been cleared. You’re too exposed, I need you to—”

  “In a moment,” President Webster interrupted, his voice brusque. He turned back to Addie. “You’re sure you’re okay? What happened? Did something scare you?”

  “Sir, please!” the agent said, his voice urgent. “We need to get you both back to the vehicles. Now—”

  But before he could finish, a shot rang out, and the calm of the park was broken by screams.

  The next few moments were a blur. The sound of more shots. The shouts of students as they covered their heads and hit the ground. Spilled coffee cups. Books and papers scattering. The flurry of Secret Service agents rushing toward the president and Addie, guns drawn.

  And then the horror as Addie realized President Webster lay crumpled on the ground, bright red blood staining his crisp white shirt. The last thing Addie remembered before collapsing beside him was screaming a single word: Dad.

  Addie sat on a paper-covered exam table while a doctor shone a flashlight in her eyes. Addie didn’t even have any awareness of blinking in response. Her body felt numb, like she wasn’t even in it.

  “Adele,” the doctor said. “Can you talk to me?”

  Addie squeezed her eyes shut. All she could picture were the president’s legs twisted at an odd angle beneath him. All she could hear was the sound of his head as it hit the ground. The crack of the gun. Bam-bam-bam. It replayed in her mind over and over in slow motion.

  “Adele,” the doctor said again. “You are okay. You weren’t hurt. Your body is just reacting to the stress of the situation. Do you understand?”

  Addie blinked and nodded.

  “Good,” the doctor said. “Do you need to lie down?”

  Addie shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I just need to know if he’s okay. Is the president okay?”

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “It was a superficial wound. Grazed his arm. Thankfully, it missed the brachial artery. He’s fine. And he’s been asking the same thing about you. If you feel okay, I can take you to see him.”

  “Yes, please,” Addie said. She stood and her legs wobbled. The doctor shook his head and pointed to a wheelchair pushed against the far wall.

  “No walking for you,” he said. “Stay put and I’ll have a nurse come in and help you.”

  “Okay,” Addie said, leaning back on the table. The doctor pulled back the curtain and left the room, passing the pair of Secret Service agents who were standing guard. Addie made another attempt to stand, but her legs faltered. She sat back down. The smell of the hospital made her feel sick: a combination of rubbing alcohol and air freshener. The same scent that rushed into her nose when she tore open an antiseptic wipe. The kind she’d used to dab on the angry red welts across Mikey’s back.

  Addie shifted on the table. The paper cover crinkled. The clipboard at the end turned sideways. She picked it up, thumbing through her medical chart on top. Pretty standard hospital stuff. Her name, address, date of birth. She reached the fourth line and her heart caught in her throat.

  Blood type: AB

  Addie read it again. She re-checked her name at the top of the page. She inspected the blood type again.

  AB AB AB AB AB AB AB

  Addie’s ears started to ring so loudly she was afraid it was like a siren going off in her head that the whole hospital could hear. A nurse walked into the room, thick-soled sneakers squeaking across the tile floor. Addie’s chart fell from her hand and hit the ground.

  “You doing all right, young lady?” the nurse said, retrieving the file and setting it on the table. Addie nodded. But she was far from all right. They’d just covered this in biology class: type AB blood was the rarest of all. And it could only come from a person whose parents were type A or B.

  Addie knew Karl’s blood type. He’d needed a transfusion once. It was O.

  The nurse rolled the wheelchair to Addie’s side. “You ready to go, young lady?”

  Addie was grateful now that she didn’t have to walk. She wasn’t sure her legs would carry her anymore. She lowered herself shakily into the wheelchair and gripped the sides. Stars flashed in her eyes. The nurse put a hand on Addie’s shoulder.

  “Let me take you to your father,” she said with a smile.

  Agent Murawczyk and another Secret Service agent Addie didn’t recognize stood outside the president’s hospital room door. They nodded at Addie as she was wheeled past.

  “Miss Webster,” Murawczyk said.

  “Hello, Agent Murawczyk.”

  The nurse pushed Addie into the room. The president—no, her father—was propped up in a hospital bed, watching television and eating Jell-O. He held up the cup and spoon.

  “Your mother never puts this stuff on the menu,” he said. “Too plain. I think it’s delicious, though. Want some?” He held out the spoon.

  “No thanks,” she said, afraid she might throw it right back up.

  The nurse wheeled her next to President Webster. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said.

  “Thanks,” President Webster said. He tapped the edge of his bed. “Come, sit with me.”

  Addie lifted herself from the chair and sat next to her fath
er. A small television on a metal arm extended over the bed, tuned to a twenty-four-hour news channel with the volume off. Addie immediately recognized the scene: Kogan Plaza and the surrounding GWU campus. Secret Service and FBI agents were swarming the grounds. The view shifted to a nearby dorm, where a young man was being led out the front door in handcuffs. The script beneath read:

  SUSPECTED SHOOTER DETAINED

  Addie stared at the screen in disbelief.

  “They’ve already arrested someone?” she said. “How?”

  “Anonymous tip to the FBI,” the president answered. “Another student said a classmate was plotting a shooting spree. Looks like we just got caught in the cross fire. FBI found the kid in his dorm room right after, the gun tossed in the Dumpster next to it.”

  Addie looked back at the television screen, watching the boy as he was led down the sidewalk toward an awaiting patrol car. He had dirty-blond hair and his eyes were wide with fear. Even without the volume on, Addie could tell by the way his mouth was moving as the agents pushed him into the back of the car that he was shouting the same thing over and over:

  It wasn’t me.

  Addie’s breath grew stuttered. The president flicked off the television.

  “We don’t need to watch this,” he said.

  Addie struggled to regain control of herself, something that was getting harder and harder to do with each passing moment.

  “Are you okay?” the president asked.

  Addie didn’t have an answer for that. “Are you?” she said.

  President Webster glanced down at the bandage wrapped around his left arm. “Only a graze,” he said. “Got lucky.”

  “Yeah. Lucky,” Addie said. And that was the other thing that kept gnawing at her brain. The president had been standing next to her on the plaza—until the shot rang out. Then he’d jumped in front of Addie, shielding her with his own body.