Midnight

by Anna Dove

  The Department of Defense, having developed a communications system impervious to electromagnetic attack, maintained operations in the Pentagon, notifying troops worldwide, cautioning airlines approaching U.S. airspace to return or land elsewhere, and serving as a protective hub from which other federal agencies could operate. The Secretary of State could be found there, as well as the Secretaries of Energy, Agriculture and Transportation, having been specifically sought out by the DOD.

  We would read that the United Nations, within minutes of the attack as communicated by the Department of Defense, pledged to protect the United States against military invasion. NATO countries readied themselves to attack whoever had perpetrated the EMP. We would read that the Canadian Prime Minister and the Mexican President both sent coalitions to the borders to help American citizens who were fleeing north and south, providing emergency temporary visas for American citizens seeking refuge. We would turn the page and read that the United Kingdom, Germany, France, Russia, China, Brazil, Canada, Japan, and Mexico began working together in an unprecedented display of cohesiveness to lead the development of an international economic initiatives that would prevent a global depression.

  The international community did not fail as the United States crumbled backwards. They placed a soft cushion to protect its fall from breaking bones, and then brought the wraps and bandages for its wounds to heal.

  Idealism, or liberalism, would point and say, see, the international community truly cares for each other; but this was not the root of the actions. Neither did the countries act to get anything in particular in return from the United States; rather, as was the case in the twentieth century after the tragedy of the world wars, many countries sensed a redistribution of power occurring, a change in the structure of the global relationships. Each wanted to be the forerunner of its own ideas, to develop new economic bilateral and multilateral relations, to ease its weight into the power vacuum that had formed as the United States fell abruptly from its marked prominence in the world order.

  But after commenting briefly on the international aspect of the attack, the historians would steady themselves, for after the initial surge of terror and violence had wiped through the nation like a tidal wave, the country reached a plateau.

  +

  It was August, the month in which Washington usually sleeps under the hot, heavy blanket of humidity that rises from the swamp upon which the city is built. In addition, the sun beats down mercilessly in the morning, then rain comes in the afternoon for a brief hour on the hot pavements, and then the clouds depart, leaving the city cloaked in steam as if it were a large marble sauna. This August, which was particularly hot and swampy, there were no air conditioners, no freezers, no respite from the heat, and those who had survived for the past months now sat in their ovenish houses wondering if they might in fact die from being baked alive.

  August brought a breath of life, however, to the country. In the past months, there had arisen a sort of new order. From within the cities, towns, countrysides, and suburbs there arose a new disposition, a resignation to the current situation and a desire to operate within it instead of denying its existence. People moved from a reactionary state to a proactive state. Coalitions began to form, within local areas, and people started to organize the necessary functions of micro-communities: burial of the dead, care for the sick, assignment by comparative advantage to different tasks, partnering with other communities to trade goods. Small networks of food distribution also cropped up now that the violence had largely subsided, and people bought food from those who had it with promissory notes. The police forces began to form again and to act, quelling fights and acting as a dissuading force against future violence. Separately but simultaneously all of the varying states throughout the country began to develop these practices. By August, a semblance of order had found its way into the wreckage; still no electricity, although some thought that it could be eminent, but regardless there was progress on social and economic levels.

  On August first, the remains of the federal government emerged from Chimaugua Bunker into the tired city of Washington. They were twenty-four Senators, one hundred and ninety four Representatives, one Supreme Court Justice, the President and First Lady, and most members of the Cabinet. They all looked rather pale and thin and bedraggled like animals who had just woken up from a long hibernation. They made their way up through the hotel and the train and back into their offices, which lay untouched since the attack, papers and folders still waiting to be read from months ago.

  “How strange to be here,” said Adela, as she and the President walked into the Oval Office. The papers on the Resolute stood exactly as they had been when they left.

  “I agree,” he rejoined. “It seems--so strange, that we should be here again.” He reached out and ran his fingertips over the wood of the desk, feeling its smoothness. “I never thought that I would be here again with this old thing--you know, Queen Victoria gave this desk to us in 1879, when electricity was a novelty, when barely anyone had lights in their homes. Silly, I guess, but it gives me comfort, to know that men in this room who ran the country without electric. Makes me hope that I can bring us forward again.”

  “Well let us hope that King Charles gifts you something just as useful.”

  He smiled, but could not quite tell if she were being facetious or not.

  +

  “Hey! Everyone! We have a newspaper!”

  Haley’s brother Jason, a tall boy with curly brown hair, burst excitedly into the farmhouse living room, waving above his head what did appear to be, in fact, a newspaper.

  Haley’s brothers occasionally returned to their house in Havre de Grace on horseback to fetch equipment or any item needed. Jason had just returned from said expedition with Julian, the youngest Monteforte brother.

  The members of the community quickly gathered to look at the newspaper. There was a black and white photograph of an American flag on the front and one page full of words.

  “It was in front of our house, by our door,” said Jason. “It’s been distributed from Annapolis,” he said, pointing to the city name at the top corner.

  The article was a jointly composed piece written by the President and the Secretaries of major departments and agencies. It encouraged the citizens, gave a brief update on the status of the infrastructure, and encouraged people to continue to develop the grassroots development and distribution that had begun. It also noted that a national radio channel had been established, and if one possessed an old fashioned radio, or could modify their existing radio (here they gave instructions on this method) there would be a daily broadcast. The newspaper was passed around excitedly from hand to hand, as they poured over its words and smiles crept to their faces.

  They could move back into their homes.

  For the next few days, the process of moving home ensued, with a community hunting and fishing schedule established to continue mass food production during the transition. Haley was thrilled to be back in her childhood home. Lily, Elizabeth and Haley shared one bedroom, and the beds and cot were heavenly to sleep on. She knew the cracks and corners of this room, and it gave her a sublime sense of comfort to lay her head on the pillows and drift off to sleep to the sound of her parents voices downstairs. Here, safe and comfortable, she felt like she could stay forever, and she pushed away the nagging sense that they ought to consider returning to Washington. Elizabeth, too, seemed to be happy and comfortable, as did Carlos and Jack, and they all studiously avoided the topic, hoping that if no one brought it up, perhaps it would go away.

  The next few days were spent very pleasantly. All the household members took turns chopping wood for fires, fishing, hunting, taking trips to the garden, drawing water from the neighborhood lake and boiling it to sterilize it, and performing the other household tasks. They ate at the dining room table and there was laughter, perhaps the first laughter that Haley had heard in four months. The newspapers came every day, one page updates on the societal progression and the st
ate of various agencies and departments. In the evening, they would all congregate in the living room on the plush sofas and chairs, and Haley’s father would read aloud from The Tale of Two Cities in his deep, rich voice, in such a way that they could practically see Madame Defarge and Sydney Carton, feel the fog of London, and taste the wine spilt on the cobblestones.

  The family was in possession of a little old radio, which had belonged to Haley’s great-great-grandmother during the Second World War. Haley’s brother Dayton, who before the attack had been a computer engineer, made it his personal project to repair the old thing, and within forty-eight hours he had done so spectacularly, so that they were now able to hear the 3pm broadcast from Washington clear as if the speaker had been standing right in front of them.

  One week after their arrival, they had all gathered around the table and the radio, a practice which had become the daily tradition. The normal report was beginning, a male voice.

  “Thank you all for listening today. The weather is still hot here in Washington, resting in the eighties with high humidity, and this is projected to remain the situation for at least another week. We encourage everyone to drink safe, clean water as much as possible during this heat, and in fact, that leads me in to another point.”

  The reporter explained a new system, a water sterilization project that was expected to employ a few thousand people in the northern Virginia area and help distribute water to those who needed it. He then encouraged other cities to adopt the same practices, and gave a brief explanation of the system itself.

  “Again, this system is purported to have--wait, just a minute, actually, I’m getting a piece of breaking news.”

  For a moment, there was indistinguishable murmuring, and several different unintelligible voices that seemed to be vying for the reporter’s attention. This lasted for at least fifteen seconds. Then, his voice came back, but its positivity was gone, replaced with a gravity unmistakable even through the radio waves.

  “My fellow Americans,” the reporter began, and paused, and sighed, and continued. “I have received a confirmation that is a blow, surely, to the hearts of all who hear. During the attack, our vice president was in Los Angeles, and it has now been confirmed that in fact he is no longer with us. We will cut short the rest of today’s program to commemorate this man’s service to our country. He will be sorely missed.”

  The channel fell silent, as did everyone at the table. For a minute they sat, their eyes downcast.

  “Well,” said Haley’s father at last, “I need to chop today’s firewood.” he stood up slowly and moved from the room towards the backdoor, and the others also moved to their various duties.

  They had briefly and blissfully forgotten the terror of the attack, but like many pleasant things, it lasted but a moment.

  20. The Announcement

  “Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?”

  ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

  Not since the turn of the century had newspapers been so popular. Mr. Granger, a thin, tall man with black scruffy beard and wide rimmed glasses that hung on his sharp nose, was now rich. He had begun a little newspaper company in Annapolis called the Maryland Times, and the company had been slowly suffocating under the increase of information consumption through the internet. However, two months ago he had been approached while sitting in his little corner office he rented, by two suited men that looked and smelled and acted like Washington D.C. They informed him that the federal government was contracting local papers to create a statewide distribution plan, and that his paper had been selected to participate in the program, and that he would be a fool to turn down the offer as no one else would be able to match it and it was a five-year contract and paid very much and did he have children? Yes? Well then, it would be doubly wise to participate as each child would receive a college stipend, provided that the colleges were back up and running by the time that their entrance would be appropriate. Mr. Granger expressed that he would be very interested in this contract, and that his children would be very grateful for the opportunity--yes yes, said the others, and pushed the contract towards him and pointed to the dotted line, upon which Mr. Granger hurriedly scribbled his name as if he was afraid that the contract would disappear if he waited any longer.

  After the execution of the contract, Mr. Granger found that his bank account was much more pleasant looking and he strode with a much brighter outlook on life, a cheery disposition that others found quite unnecessary.

  Mr. Granger was responsible for distribution in Harford County, of the federally commissioned paper called U.S. News. He was one man in a network of many, distributing the same paper across as many counties in the United States as possible. The acting federal government had deemed this a wise step, to promote information about the progress of infrastructure construction and provide citizens without radios the same benefit as those in possession of one. This was actually a very bright idea, as the spread of information helped Americans to realize that their country still existed, and that the United States had remained United throughout the worst terror attack in history. The paper included country-wide updates, some international news, a crossword section to promote the illusion of normalcy, and an address to which responses or queries could be mailed. The paper avoided such topics as death counts, food shortages, contaminated water, prisons, and hospitals.

  This early morning of August 22nd, the newspapers were dropped off in the mailboxes as usual, each newspaper tied up with neat little strings. Haley woke up early. Her family was gone at a nearby farm working with others on the butchering and equal division of some cows. Haley took a walk around the block and retrieved the newspaper as she passed their mailbox coming back. She opened it as she continued walking, but stopped in her tracks as her eyes rested on the headline of the front page.

  At 3pm EST on Radio, Attorney General to Announce Suspect behind EMP Terror Attack.

  Haley re-read the giant black sprawling letters, and then raced back to the house and burst into the dining room, where Jack, Carlos and Elizabeth all sat beginning their breakfasts.

  +

  Adela woke up under her soft white bedding to the sun streaming through the window. She stretched leisurely, looking up at the White House bedroom ceiling above her four-poster bed. Everything was white; the walls, the ceiling, the covers, the furniture, the rugs--all blinding, pristine white, as if it were a sanitarium hiding under the ruse of Victorian decor and expensive fabrics.

  Adela asked that her breakfast be brought to her, and when it came she took it in bed, sipping on orange juice while reading a bit. Then she called for her stylists to come dress her and do her makeup and hair, and by the time that was done it was nearly eleven.

  There was a knock on the door and Adela banished her stylists from the room and then peered through the peephole. A smile crept to her lips and she opened the door, and Reed stepped into the room.

  “Morning.” He kissed her.

  “Good morning.”

  “I just came to say hello. I have a good feeling about this day.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Did you forget? The Attorney General announces his decision today.”

  “Ah,” said Adela, shaking her head. “Yes, I had forgotten. I have been preoccupied with planning.”

  “3pm, in the briefing room.”

  Reed left, and Adela went to her drawer of jewelry, and took up a diamond choker, fastening it around her slim neck. She sat down facing the mirror behind her jewelry drawer and looked at herself musingly. Slim neck, sparkling diamonds. Lips red as blood. Curve of the cheek, flash of the eye.

  The West Wing White House Briefing Room was alive by noon. It was a warm, humid, drizzly August day outside, typical of Washington in August, and as the media technicians and journalists came in and out of the room, they grew increasingly sticky from sweat and misting precipitation. Each person was on edge; they snap
ped at each other, pushing and shoving a little, trying to get their setup done in time. Collars were unbuttoned, cheeks flushed, hands slipped on the wires; but by two in the afternoon they were done, and all radio signals were tuned in to hear the announcement soon to come.

  On the half hour, Adela came down the stair and into the East Room, looking up at the original portraits of Martha and George Washington, who stared back at her with grim expressions.

  “Taking a moment to appreciate history?” questioned a voice behind her, and Adela turned to find her husband there, in a handsome suit. He smiled at his wife, who stood tall and looked very elegant in her blue trousers and chiffon blouse.

  “I never get tired of this room,” said Adela sweetly, and took his arm.

  “Me neither,” said the president. “It is the best thing in the world, to be living here. Do you regret it now, Adela?” he asked suddenly, turning to her with a very open and frank expression. “Are you still unhappy here?”

  Adela met his gaze.

  “No, my dear,” she said softly. “It is the best thing in the world, as you say, to live here.”

  “We must both work very hard to make sure this country stands back up on its feet. To think that we were this close, this close, to having it all taken from us. I’m so sorry, my dear. You are such a brave woman and I admire your strength through these past months. I know I haven’t always been the kindest person, but I promise that I will always respect you from now on, and take what you want into account.”

  “Oh, never mind the past. The past, it is a strange thing, it fades with each breath. I’ve drawn a great many breaths now, and I’ve left much behind.” She smiled at him. “As do all presidents, all first ladies, we all move on from our pasts, and we focus on the present and the future. That’s our job.”