by P. A. Glaspy
Everley spoke up. “We’ll tell him you’re in the restroom. Don’t worry — we’ll take care of it.”
David gave them a nod and hurried off to his office to get his things. Phil looked at Charles. “You ready?”
“It’s now or never,” Charles said. “Let’s get this over with.”
President Olstein was sitting at his desk, empty of any clutter since his temper tantrum, scowling at the door.
“How damn long does it take to come when your commanding officer orders you to?” he shouted to the otherwise empty room. “The sooner I get rid of those Chiefs, the sooner these troops will understand this is the way it is now and obey my orders!”
As if in answer to his question, there was a knock at the door. “Come in!”
General Everley opened the door and stepped inside the room with no regard for the papers strewn across the floor. He was followed by the other Joint Chiefs, then Speaker Roman. Agent Masters pulled the door closed behind them and remained out in the hall.
“We’re supposed to be meeting in the conference room.” Olstein stood as he said, “Let’s head down there and —”
Everley interrupted him. “Here is fine. Sit down, Mister President.”
Surprised at the gruffness in the general’s tone, Olstein replied smugly, “Excuse me? Are you giving me an order, General? I think you might be confused as to who is in charge here.”
“No, I know fully well who is in charge, Barton, and it isn’t you,” Charles said with his own smug smile. “Not anymore.”
Olstein’s face turned red as anger took over. “What? What are you … how dare you speak to me like that! I most certainly am in charge! I’m the Commander in Chief! I control all of you! I —”
Charles walked around the desk and stood toe to toe with the president. In a low, threatening voice, he growled, “Like I said. Not anymore. Now sit!” The last word was punctuated with a shove that put Olstein back in his chair.
“Oh! And now you’re assaulting me! Help! I need help in here! I’m being attacked!” He was yelling out for his Secret Service detail to come to his aid. Every head turned toward the door. When no one came in after a few seconds, they all looked back at the president.
“No one is coming to help you, Olstein, because they all know what you’re trying to do is wrong,” Charles said. “We’re here to correct that.”
“You have no authority anymore! I wrote an executive order dismissing you — all of you!” he screeched, taking in the rest of the Chiefs. His gaze landed on Speaker Roman. “I suppose you think you have a say-so in any of this? You’re nothing without the rest of Congress to back you up!”
“We’re backing him up,” Carl McKenna said, stepping forward. The others stepped up to stand beside him. “We won’t stand by and let you tear this country further apart than it already is. We won’t tuck our tails and hide because you think you can get rid of us with some ridiculous EO you’ve written. You’ve gone too far, Olstein, and we’re here to put a stop to it.”
“That’s President Olstein, and you can’t stop anything! You don’t have the authority! I have the authority! I have the power! I’m in control of this country — along with everything and everyone in it!” His eyes were bulging with rage, and spittle flew into the air with every emphasized word.
“Again … not anymore.” Charles cleared his throat. “As senior Chief, I am placing you, Barton Olstein, under arrest for treason.”
“You can’t do that! You don’t have the authority —”
“I have as much authority to do this as you have to write ridiculous, unconstitutional EOs. Aside from your treasonous acts, I am declaring you unfit to fulfill your duties as president of the United States.”
“This is preposterous! You are all guilty of treason! I’ll see you hang for this!”
“Not likely,” Anton said. He walked to the office door, opened it, and called out, “Marines, with me. Take Mr. Olstein into custody and confine him to his quarters.”
“I’ll see to it that he gets there,” Carl added. The troops who had been waiting outside stepped forward to block the doorway. Two came inside and went to either side of Olstein, each taking him by the arm. He tried to jerk away from them, but they held fast.
“Get your hands off me! You can’t do this! There’s no one to take my place! The vice-president isn’t here. Who —” He stopped as the reality set in. Fixing Phil with a hateful glare, he yelled, “Aha! Now I understand! It’s you! You think you can just waltz in here and take over! Well, this explains a lot! I suppose you think you’ll get to stay in office until everything straightens out, which is probably never!”
Phil looked at the president with pity. “No, Barton. I have no intention of staying in the position any longer than is absolutely necessary. I’ll just fill in for the next thirty days until the new president can be sworn in.”
Olstein barked out a laugh. “New president? You mean Tanner? He’s in New York City. That place is probably a war zone by now. How could he get here without a car? If he’s even still alive, which I doubt. It’s impossible.”
“Actually, it’s quite possible,” Charles replied. “He’s already on his way here.”
“Bullshit! There’s no way. Cars don’t run. I’m guessing planes aren’t flying and they just got hammered with about two feet of snow and no way to clear the roads if they did have a car that ran — which I highly doubt. It’s not like he has hardened storage sites. And how would you know anyway? None of the phones work. Dream on, General.”
Charles grinned as he said, “I know because I sent someone to get him as soon as I heard the outlandish ideas you had come up with Sunday, not the least of which was not stepping down for the incoming president. We’ve been working on this for days. We were going to just ride it out until the inauguration, but you forced our hand. You’ll spend the rest of your term under guard. If things do get back to normal, we’ll see about bringing formal changes against you then. For now, we’re just getting you out of this office to protect the country from your delusions and to save you from yourself.”
He took a step back and the Marines all but dragged Olstein out. He was screaming at the top of his lungs for someone to stop them, but the Secret Service agents stood stoically at their posts as he passed. Agent Masters had apparently been successful in his mission to warn them all of what was coming and gotten their approval of the move. The Chiefs watched the spectacle from the doorway of the current Oval Office. Phil addressed Masters.
“Thank you for your part in making this as painless as possible, if not completely peaceful,” he said. “Would you and Agent Walker please join us inside?”
They all went into the office, sliding papers and debris out of their way. “I would like the two of you to stand as witnesses so there can be no accusation that what was done was not completely above board.” Phil then looked at the Chiefs. “Thank you for doing something I know you were loath to do yet had to be done. We couldn’t let him destroy what’s left of the country. General Bale, would you do the honors?”
Angie stepped forward with a smile and a Bible in her hand. No one knew she had asked the radio operator where she could find one. The young lady produced it from the backpack at her feet.
“I keep it with me always, Ma’am,” she had said. “You never know when you might need the comfort of the Good Book in your day.”
“That may be every day for a while, Ensign,” Angie replied, and promised to return it to her when they were finished.
Charles chuckled. “I should have known you’d be ready no matter the circumstances.”
She inclined her head to him then turned to face the Speaker. Holding the Bible in front of her she waited for Phil to place his hand on it then said, “Repeat after me. I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States …”
Chapter 13
Interstate 295 had plenty of abandoned cars. Hutch had taken over driving again and remarked that he felt
like he was running the gauntlet trying to keep from hitting any of them. Had it just been the Humvee it would have been easier, and they could have even used the large vehicle to push their way through. But with the camper behind them, he had to work his way around instead. While the Humvee held the road pretty well, the same couldn’t be said for the trailer it was towing. Even in the pitch black of a moonless night, the taillights reflecting off the front told him there was a lot of movement.
“Man, that camper is not doing well on some of these drifts. I hope those guys are holding on back there.” He was watching it in the mirror while trying to keep his eyes on the road.
“You think we should stop and check on them?” Damon asked, voice tinged with concern.
“Not until we get past the river. That’s why it’s so high here. Not a lot of trees to block the wind blowing across that cold water.” He paused a moment, then added, “What the hell —”
They had just passed the Scenic Overlook and were approaching the bridge over Crosswicks Creek which flows into the Delaware River. Hutch let the Humvee come to a stop but left it running.
“That’s going to be a problem,” he said, looking toward the bridge.
In the beam of the headlights, they could see all four lanes were blocked with a multi-car pileup. There was no way around, and guardrails on both sides prevented them from easily accessing the oncoming lanes, which looked clear from their position; but they couldn’t see very far.
Damon’s face screwed up in frustration. “Yes, it is. I guess we can check on those guys in the camper after all.”
They both climbed out of the vehicle as the Guardsmen exited the camper to see what was going on. Darrell and Stacy donned night vision goggles and took up security positions behind the rig as Liz and Marco went to talk to their captain.
“Hoo-eey, that’s a mess right there, Cap,” Marco commented as he reached them and saw the problem. “We started the day shoveling, and it looks like we’re going to finish it pushing cars.”
“Well, I don’t know about those cars, but mine won’t shift without the key turned on,” Liz replied. “How are we going to get them in neutral to move them? Most of them look pretty new.”
Marco smiled at her. “Magic.”
The four of them walked over to the closest car. Marco checked and found the door unlocked. He climbed into the driver seat and pulled out his pocketknife.
“The reason you can’t shift without the key on in newer cars is they have something called a brake transmission shift interlock, or BTSI. Works great as long as there’s power to the car, but if your battery is dead and your car is inside your garage, you have to get it out so you can get it jumped off.” He stuck the tip of his knife under a small plastic piece by the gear shift. Popping it off revealed a button. “This is the shift lock release. You press and hold this button, and you can shift it.” He performed the action as he described it to them and, after placing the car in neutral, looked up at them with a toothy grin. “See? Magic!”
Liz smirked as she replied, “Show-off.”
“What? Can I help it if I’m handsome and handy?” Marco waggled his eyebrows at her as he climbed out of the car.
Taking his place in the driver seat, Liz rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, handyman. I’ll steer; you push.”
Marco and Hutch went to the front of the car and pushed it backward. Liz steered it to the emergency lane on the right. She got out, shut the door, looked at the pileup, and said, “Great. Only six more to go.”
Once the cars were moved out of the way and everyone was loaded back up, they were able to cross the bridge, though the going was slow, as they had to weave amongst the other dead vehicles. Everyone in the Humvee breathed a collective sigh of relief when the bridge turned back into just a highway. Interstate 295 turned out to be a good choice of routes, because it went from commercial to rural farmlands with very few houses. It also looked as if one of the farmers had some old equipment, since portions of the road were actually plowed.
“God bless the farmers!” Damon called out as he picked up speed on the mostly clear road. There was a feeling of hope inside the military vehicle with the ability to move at a faster pace. The Tanners whispered excitedly amongst themselves and even Agent Stephens cracked a smile. They made the ten miles to Mt. Holly Road in less than thirty minutes.
Another two miles and they were turning onto the ramp that led to the turnpike. As with all toll roads, the first thing they came to was a toll booth. The ones Damon had encountered on the way up to New York had been desolate, looking abandoned and quickly forgotten in a world where most cars didn’t run. At first glance, this one was the same, except for the fact that there seemed to be a dead car in every lane. Damon slowed to a stop.
“There’s something not quite right about this,” he said as he looked the situation over.
Hutch nodded. “Agreed. What are the odds that there was a car in every lane at five in the morning on a Sunday?”
“I think we better check this out.” Damon was climbing out of the driver side as he spoke.
Hutch opened his door. “Yep. I’ll get the crew.” He started toward the camper. The ping of bullets hitting his door had him diving back inside. Damon did the same.
“Ambush!” Damon yelled toward the back right before his door closed. They slammed and locked the doors, then readied their rifles as Damon turned off the headlights and both men donned night vision goggles. Agent Stephens pushed the Tanners into the floorboard. In the side-view mirror, Hutch saw his people exiting the camper and taking up positions behind the Humvee. Marco ran to the back and scurried up the ladder to take a position on top. Darrell opened the rear door of the Humvee and climbed in. Raising the hatch, he waited a moment to see if the attackers would fire at it then stood up with his rifle trained toward the toll booth. He ducked back inside when a shot sailed past his head.
“Definitely a setup!” he proclaimed to the occupants of the Humvee. Pulling his pack to him, he retrieved a small telescoping inspection mirror and raised it into the opening. Hutch and Damon were peering ahead through the windshield.
“I count five shooters, one in each lane behind a car, and the fifth behind the booth. Confirm!” Hutch said.
Darrell scanned the area with the mirror. “Confirmed. I’m not seeing anybody else, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more hidden from sight.” Rising slightly so that his voice carried outside, he said, “Perez! Eyes on how many?”
Marco had been scanning the area through his rifle scope. “I count five.” Just then, a shot grazed the edge of the camper top. He flattened himself across the center.
“We don’t want to hurt anybody!” a voice called from the darkness behind the toll booth. “We just want whatever guns and supplies you have and that rig! Everybody get out nice and slow and step away from the Hummer!”
Damon rolled his window down about a quarter of the way and replied through the opening, “We can’t do that. This is a United States Army vehicle and we are under orders. We’re going to need you to move one of those vehicles out of the way, lay down your weapons, and come toward us with your hands in the air.”
“And it’s a Humvee, moron! Hummers are privately owned vehicles!” Marco added. Stacy and Liz tried to hide their giggles from below his position.
Those outside could hear the man laughing. “There ain’t any army anymore! Hell, there probably ain’t a United States either! And I don’t care what it’s called! We’re taking it. We can do it easy, or we can do it hard. Your choice!”
“Perez, give the man our answer. Don’t kill anybody … yet.” Hutch directed his voice toward the open hatch, hoping it was loud enough that the would-be carjackers could hear it.
With night vision, Marco could easily make out the men. He chose the one closest to the speaker. The bullet shattered the back window of the vehicle he was crouched behind. All of them quickly ducked out of sight. Darrell took the opportunity to pop back up through the roof hatch and line up on
the side of the toll booth the spokesman was hiding behind. Hutch rolled his window down all the way and leaned out with his rifle.
Damon called out to the men. “I guess we choose hard!”
Darrell called out everyone’s targets. “Manning, you take the first lane; Perez, you take second. Cap will get the third, and Thompson, you’ve got the outside. I’m on the loudmouth! When they shoot, return fire!”
When the first shot came toward them, they all fired at once toward their assigned targets. The sound was deafening with so many rifles going off at once in such a small area. Mrs. Tanner covered her ears as Mr. Tanner covered his son’s, and they all tried to get as low to the floor as they could. Agent Stephens crouched behind them, sidearm pointed in the direction of the threat in case anyone got through the barrage. No one tried. Yelps and screams filled the night, adding to the cacophony. The attackers returned a few shots, but it didn’t last long. Deer rifles couldn’t compete with night vision and automatic weapon equipped soldiers.
“We give up! We’re coming out! Don’t shoot!” This came from a voice they hadn’t heard before.
Hutch took off his goggles, stepped out, and closed the door, rifle trained in the direction from which the voice had come. “No weapons, hands in the air! Nice and slow! Team, ditch the night vision. Major, light ‘em up!”
The Guardsmen quickly removed their own goggles so they wouldn’t be blinded when Damon turned the headlights back on. As the lights pierced the dark, the former attackers flinched in the stark brightness, shielding their eyes with their raised hands. When they were about fifty feet from the Humvee, Hutch yelled, “That’s far enough! On your knees! Hands behind your head!”
Damon had gotten out as well and switched to his pistol. Doing a quick head count, he said, “There were five of you. Where’s the other guy?”