by Bobby Akart
As in a high-stakes game of chess, the single most important duty of the emergency planners was to ensure the preservation of constitutional leadership. In 1947, Congress established a lengthy line of succession stretching from the president through more than a dozen high-ranking government officials should a catastrophic event strike the nation.
During their tenure in office, government officials ran catastrophe drills in which they were taken to Andrews Air Force Base by their Secret Service details. Once there, they joined a team of forty to sixty security personnel and high-ranking government officials, along with other cabinet members. Each was transported to remote locations across the country to underground bunkers and secure military facilities—Cheyenne, Raven Rock, Greenbrier and Mount Weather, to name a few.
The plan, designed to keep the U.S. government fully operational in a time of attack, dated back to the early Cold War era of the fifties when duck-and-cover scenarios were considered sufficient. Now, state-of-the-art technology was utilized to deliver warnings, updates, and directives wirelessly to key personnel.
However, in the case of an electromagnetic pulse attack, whether naturally occurring as a result of a geostorm, or man-made when delivered via a nuclear weapon, communication lapses for a period of time were to be expected until the president, vice president, the Speaker of the House, and the cabinet were protected within the secured bunkers.
While federal budget constraints prevented each key player in the continuity-of-government plan from having their own fallout shelter, the facility within the White House for the president was the next best thing to the two most secure locations at Cheyenne Mountain and Raven Rock.
The Presidential Emergency Operations Center, or PEOC, had been recently expanded and updated in an underground facility beneath the East Wing of the White House. Initially constructed under President Franklin Roosevelt during World War II, the PEOC had undergone substantial changes to make it impenetrable to any form of ICBM nuclear attack, enemy invasion, or terrorist operation.
President Grant Houston and his chief of staff, Angela O’Donnell, moved quickly through the tile-covered hallways, instinctively ducking under the pipes suspended from the low ceiling, which contained hardened wiring for mechanical equipment and communications networks. He pulled her by the hand, appearing no different than any other couple who might be slightly panicked, only their intimate relationship was supposedly under wraps.
Several armed military guards greeted them at the thick solid-steel door, which resembled a bank vault’s door. Past a reception area, the president entered a large conference room adjacent to the PEOC’s nerve center while O’Donnell stopped to discuss a matter with the PEOC security team.
The entry area was small but functional. It contained comfortable sofas, a kitchenette with drinks and snacks, and a few magazines, very much resembling an upscale physician’s waiting room. President Houston followed his escort into the PEOC’s situation room, which was twice the size of the one located under the West Wing.
Eighteen years prior, tall opaque fences had been installed near the West Wing, and a massive construction project was undertaken. Unofficially, the renovations to the White House complex were described as an update to the facility’s infrastructure system. Officially, the contractors were using tunnels to greatly expand the East Wing PEOC facility, gaining access from behind the West Wing.
A sprawling multilevel structure was built, which required many truckloads of concrete and heavy-duty steel beams. Additional tunnels were installed to connect the West Wing to the PEOC to allow faster evacuation of the president to the nuclear-proof facility. It was also expanded to provide better long-term sleeping quarters for the First Family and the president’s essential staff.
President Houston entered the PEOC nerve center and was immediately greeted by the Secretary of Homeland Security, Marc Ducci. A handful of other White House staffers were on hand to act as liaisons between the president’s inner circle and the agency heads, who continued to operate from their respective departments.
“Good morning, Mr. President,” greeted Ducci as President Houston entered the room.
The president immediately expressed dismay at being called into the PEOC. “Marc, I appreciate the fact that you’re responsible for my safety, but isn’t this a little over the top? I mean, we’re not under attack, are we?”
“No, Mr. President. Quite the contrary. Many foreign governments, including Moscow and Beijing, are calling to solicit our advice on implementing their own black start plan.”
Ducci had worked with the president in California while dealing with the Public Safety Power Shutoff program, or PSPS, which became known in the media as the black start plan. Initially, the president, who was California’s governor at the time, vehemently opposed the program because of the impact it had on many of the state’s citizens.
“Marc, when we implemented this in California, it was designed to protect pockets of the state impacted by wildfires. What we’ve done now is much different. I’m not sure we’re in a position to advise any nation at this early juncture.”
“Well, sir, if I may disagree,” countered Ducci.
President Houston laughed. “You’ve never hesitated before. How’s it going?”
“Very well, sir. At this point, one hundred percent of the nation’s power grid utilities, including Texas, have complied with your executive order. Even some of the older power stations in West Virginia and Western Pennsylvania complied.”
“I take it everyone is ready to restart upon our directive? It takes power for the black start plan at each location, right?”
“Yes, sir, in part. Crews are in place, and we’re utilizing the National Guard to reposition auxiliary generating units to remote substations. These units consist of three gas turbines, which can be started from batteries. The turbines will restart the larger substations, which in turn serve as the backbone of an island network, if you will.”
The president interrupted to get clarification. “Like a hub and spoke system?”
“Not exactly,” replied Ducci. “The island network operates independently of the Eastern and Western Interconnection. Each island would be grown independently, creating pockets, albeit large ones, of the country with power while the rest of the utilities come back online using the electricity generated by the islands.”
“One island at a time?”
“Yes, sir. The restarted substations would be used to add pockets of power supply at a speed and frequency to match normal grid conditions. As the black start process continues, the nation’s island networks would be hooked up to each other so electricity can be reliably distributed around the country.”
“How long will it take to bring the whole nation back online?”
“Sir, it’s not something we want to rush. If I may, let me bring up this graphic of the nation’s power grid.”
Ducci explained, “As you know, the country is divided into two major and three minor interconnections, which make up the continental U.S. power-transmission grid. The line of demarcation between the Eastern and Western grids run north-south along Eastern New Mexico all the way up through Eastern Montana.
“The three minor interconnections are Alaska, Quebec, which includes the Northeastern U.S., and of course, those independent-minded Texans with ERCOT, whose grid is completely separate.”
The president interrupted Ducci’s presentation. “What about all of these acronyms?”
“They represent the nine different Regional Reliability Councils managed by the North American Electric Reliability Corporation. NERC is a nonprofit corporation in Atlanta that oversees the interconnected power systems shown on this map.”
“Wait,” began the president. “NERC is not a governmental agency?”
“No, sir, and that is on my list of things to discuss with you today. I’m going to suggest you use executive action to nationalize NERC and take it under the direct control of the executive branch.”
“What? Why?�
�
“Because, sir, we can’t run the risk of these regional reliability councils going rogue and countermanding your executive orders.”
The president was dumbfounded. He walked closer to the map that was displayed on a large wall monitor. As he did, he glanced through a wall of windows into the operations center of the PEOC, where he noticed O’Donnell having an animated conversation with two uniformed military personnel. What he saw on several computer monitors within the operations center caused him to pause.
Ducci noticed his hesitation and approached the president.
“Marc, what’s happening?”
Ducci whispered his response. “That’s why we have to take control of NERC, sir.”
Chapter 2
The White House
Presidential Emergency Operations Center
Washington, DC
Ducci explained, “This is part of the reason we’ve ordered the White House shut down and brought you into the PEOC for your safety. The people are demanding that power be restored.”
“We just shut the damn thing down!” exclaimed the president. The sudden outburst caught the attention of everyone in the room. The president noticed their reaction and brought his emotions under control. “Marc, I asked them to come together as a country so we can survive this, this, whatever the hell is happening under our feet.”
“And above our heads, sir,” added Ducci. He turned to the president and placed a hand on the shoulder of the leader of the free world. The two had a close personal relationship, having worked together since the president’s days as lieutenant governor of California. “Grant, you have to remember, our nation is polarized along political ideologies. Half the nation disagrees with your policies even though they privately acknowledge it might be best for them. The same is true for the last several administrations. It’s become accepted fact in Washington.”
“I understand that, Marc. I don’t want to seem naïve, but this is serious business. Life as we know it can be obliterated if we don’t take these steps.”
“Most know that, but they’re unwilling to make the short-term sacrifices necessary to prevent the end of the world as we know it. Instead, frankly, they’re throwing a temper tantrum. A massive soon-to-be-out-of-control hissy fit.”
The president laughed at Ducci’s use of words. “Well, they need to calm down. I can’t make another presidential address because they’ll never hear it. How widespread are these protests?”
“Do you remember the Million Man March? You know, the original one from ’95 arranged by Farrakhan?”
“Of course.”
“Well, the crowds descending upon DC have similar numbers, literally. I’m talking about a million or more heading toward the White House. That’s why I’ve put us on lockdown and brought you here.”
“We’ve got to stop them,” insisted the president with a hint of apprehension in his voice.
“I’m taking measures, sir. We’re closing off the District to all inbound traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular. I’ve been in contact with the Pentagon to provide military assets.”
Since the end of World War II, the protection of the White House had primarily been the duty of the Secret Service’s Uniformed Division. It was a police force tasked with patrolling and securing foreign embassies as well as the interior and exterior of the White House.
“Can we do that? I mean, don’t I have to declare martial law or something?”
“We’ll get to that, sir. As you know, our Secret Service personnel are among the best police officers in the world, but their numbers are too few and their rules of engagement too passive to adequately protect the White House grounds alone. Fence jumpers and cannibals like what we experienced the other day are one thing. A mob of millions is another.”
President Houston sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was slightly annoyed that O’Donnell wasn’t by his side during this conversation. He always leaned upon her for guidance. “Truthfully, Marc, I’ve been concerned about this since I took office. The White House is a prime target for terrorist groups. They’re always planning major attacks on our federal facilities, and they’ve come alarmingly close in the past. How in the world would we hold off a coordinated terrorist attack, much less an angry mob of this magnitude?”
“Sir, since you took office, we’ve bolstered the facility’s defenses with larger buffer zones, checkpoints around the grounds, and provided an increased uniformed presence around the perimeter. I’ve tasked the Pentagon with creating roving patrols of combat troops to operate within the perimeter, and added a substantial military contingent around the White House and the Capitol as a deterrent.”
“Okay, that doesn’t require a martial law declaration, does it?”
“No, sir. I realize, in the scheme of things, following protocols may not seem important, but we will be judged and critiqued when all of this is over. Politically, we have to be able to justify our actions. The problem with my suggestion arises when that portion of the mob that has already reached the District arrives outside our perimeter.”
O’Donnell entered the room and the president waved her over.
O’Donnell arrived next to him and gently rubbed her arm against his. It was an intentional act, a sign that she missed being by his side. It gave the president confidence.
“Why’s that, Marc?”
“ROE, sir. Arguably, we cannot fire upon these citizens to repel their advance, as it would constitute the use of military assets on U.S. soil in violation of the Constitution.”
O’Donnell broke in. She and Ducci had never been big fans of one another as the two vied for the attention of their boss over the years and the resulting power their close relationship with Houston afforded them.
“So, Marc, do you want our troops to stand down while the White House gets overrun?” she asked sarcastically. She was animated as she spoke. “I’ve been down there getting reports about what’s happening around the country, as well as across the Potomac. We’re a day away from this whole building being swarmed and burned to the damn ground!”
Ducci bowed up. He was condescending in his tone, a tactic that had never worked with O’Donnell in the past. “Now, Angela, that’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Really? Really, Marc? Ask the families of the seventeen dead employees of Com Ed in Chicago. Or better yet, go watch the satellite video feed of the six-alarm fire at the Detroit Energy headquarters. They can see it from space, for god’s sake.”
The president stepped in to avoid a fistfight between his two advisors. Naturally, he’d always side with the one he slept with, but he needed Ducci to spearhead any military involvement on U.S. soil. If he was to be criticized for excessive force after the crisis passed, he could point the finger of blame at his longtime friend, who’d willingly take the fall.
“Okay, okay. Both of you share the same concerns. We have to act decisively. If my plea to the nation before the PSPS plan was implemented wasn’t enough, then we have to consider using our military personnel to reinforce the tough choices that we’ve made.”
“I agree,” said O’Donnell.
The president turned to his Secretary of Homeland Security. “Marc, reach out to the governors of the states that are having the most difficulty. If you have to, call upon political allies first. We don’t need the governors to refuse our requests.”
“That’ll be easy, sir. The cities most under siege are aligned with you.”
“Good, sort of. Now, have the governors declare a state of emergency and immediately request the National Guard to intervene. The same should be done in DC.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on it.”
The president turned to O’Donnell. “Ange, please summon the attorney general. Tell her I want to discuss the ramifications of declaring martial law—everything from the procedure, the specific language uses in the declaration, any limitations, and finally implementation.”
O’Donnell smiled and nodded. Ducci walked away, leaving the presid
ent alone with his chief of staff. She placed her hand behind his back and slowly led him toward the glass overlooking the operations center.
“Do you see that?” she asked before answering her own question. “That is our society falling apart.”
“I know,” said the president with a hint of sadness in his response. “Do you know how many times I’ve second-guessed myself. Ange, I’ve found myself wishing for a damned solar flare just so I can justify my decision to take down the grid intentionally. What kind of a lousy human being am I?”
O’Donnell smiled and ran her hand up and down his back. “You’re compassionate, Grant. But you also have the balls to make the tough decisions. You’re gonna save this country.”
The president shrugged. “Or destroy it in the process.”
Chapter 3
Tommy Bannon’s Residence
North Michigan Avenue
Chicago, Illinois
Kristi Boone had curled up on the couch with the female chimp Tommy Bannon had found hiding in the woods at the Brookfield Zoo during the attack by the anarchist group Animal Liberation Front. The one-year-old chimpanzee had become a form of psychological comfort for Kristi, much like a security blanket or a favorite stuffed animal would be for a child.
It also helped her mourn the loss of the closest thing she had to a child—Knight, who’d been her constant companion for years. While he wasn’t dead per se, he was dead inside, having succumbed to the profound effects the pole shift was having on the animal kingdom.
She’d finally drifted off to sleep after a long night of mayhem in which several members of the zoo’s security team had died as the anarchists freed all of the animals. While Kristi abhorred their methods, she couldn’t argue with their intent. Sadly, the circumstances necessarily sentenced the captive animals to certain death either by starvation or being exposed to the world’s greatest killer—man.
