“You, the American people, the people who put me in office, deserve to be the first to know. And you deserve to hear it straight from the source. Unfiltered, without political commentary, and without pulling any punches.”
Silence. Almost as one, the crowd stopped taking notes and focused on the POTUS.
“Actually, I have two announcements. I’ve been struggling over when and how to make the second ever since I learned of the first. I made the decision to announce both literally the second I stepped in front of the camera and looked, figuratively speaking, at three hundred million American citizens.”
The president straightened his stance, tightened his grip on the lectern, and gazed across the crowd of anxious reporters. “First, and perhaps the least important of the two. Last week, I learned that I have stage-four pancreatic cancer.”
The room erupted into a cacophony of shocked murmurs and clicking cellphone cameras. Anticipating this reaction, the POTUS paused for a few seconds. Then he raised his hands in a nonverbal request for silence.
“This is a particularly virulent strain of cancer. Mine is totally incurable. In fact, it has advanced to the point that it is untreatable. I have, at best, only a few weeks to live.”
Stunned silence, stifled gasps, and welling eyes swept across the press corps and most of the administrative staff.
The vice president showed no emotion.
“On July 4, 1939, Lou Gehrig, perhaps the greatest first baseman to have ever played the game, addressed a sold-out crowd in Yankee Stadium. There is no way I can better convey what I feel than by quoting the Iron Horse.
“Lou had been diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, ALS, or, as it came to be known, Lou Gehrig’s disease, a horribly destructive, incurable disorder that is always fatal. His condition had been front-page news. On that day, standing behind a microphone that had been set up near the pitcher’s mound, Lou, ever a pillar of strength and courage, addressed the crowd with these words: ‘Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth.’ He went on to heap praise on his parents, his teammates, his wife, and even his bitter rivals, the New York Giants. Then he ended his illustrious career and brought tears to the eyes of everyone in the stadium when he stated, ‘So I close in saying that I may have had a tough break, but I have an awful lot to live for.’
“That about sums up my first and, as I said, the least important announcement. I’m dying. We’re all going to die. But I’m here to tell you that, like Lou Gehrig, I’ll be going out as the luckiest man on earth. So today I’m announcing my resignation as the president of the United States of America. My term of office will officially end at midnight tomorrow.”
There was complete silence, but only for a heartbeat. Then pandemonium broke loose. Hands shot into the air, and an unorchestrated chorus of questions erupted.
Again, the president raised his hands, asking for silence. “As I said, ladies and gentlemen, I have a second announcement to make, and in my opinion, it is the most important of the two. I would ask that you hold your questions until the end. I don’t want to bog us down in a Q and A just yet.
“As most of you know, last Thursday I received a letter of resignation from our secretary of state, David Stakley. David and I have been close friends for several years. He has done an absolutely remarkable job as secretary of state, and I’ve grown to respect and admire him in that role. His resignation took this nation’s political leadership totally by surprise and will leave a gaping hole in the State Department and our diplomatic mission.
“What you don’t know is that David’s letter also stated his intention to run for this office in the next general election.”
Once again, an audible gasp swept over the Rose Garden. The packed crowd of reporters stood up almost in unison. Hands shot into the air, signaling a tsunami of questions.
But the POTUS continued: “There is some logic behind my decision to combine these two announcements. Part of it is to downplay the significance of my own resignation. Mostly, however, it is to publically announce my unequivocal support for David Stakley as your next president of the United States of America.”
31
The White House
Monday afternoon, two years before the day of
It was amazing. In less time than it took for the president to respond to his press secretary’s prescribed ten postbriefing questions and to walk back into the West Wing, the world knew. Every major television news channel across the planet and millions of internet pop-up apps exploded.
“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this breaking headline. The president of the United States has announced that, due to the sudden onset of a terminal illness, he is resigning from office effective midnight tomorrow. Stay tuned for our special report on this and related details.”
After several minutes of news reporter chaos, President Sheppard had stepped back from the lectern and relinquished control to his press secretary, signaling the end of the briefing. The president and his entourage had then walked back through the double doors and into the West Wing corridor leading to the president’s secretary’s office.
“Gentlemen,” the POTUS began, “I know your heads are exploding with questions, and we can block out time to meet this afternoon and discuss. However, right now I have another task that requires my immediate attention. Lizbeth will set up a meeting with each of you within the hour.” Without waiting for a response, the president turned and walked toward the secretary’s entrance to the Oval Office. “Lizbeth, could you step in here for a second?”
She quickly rose from her chair and followed him, closing the door behind her.
“Well, Lizbeth, I guess that’s one way to start a Monday.” The president slowly eased into the leather chair behind his aircraft-sized desk.
“Mr. President, I simply don’t know what to say. I’m shocked, I’m sad, and I’m stunned. On the other hand, that was the most spiritually uplifting resignation speech I’ve ever heard.”
“Thank you, Lizbeth, but in the words of Robert Frost, I have ‘miles to go before I sleep.’ And I’m going to need your help on those last few miles. Let’s start by getting Senator Mia Lopez on the phone. If she’s in session or otherwise can’t talk, you can schedule for later, but I need to speak with her today.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Lizbeth started back to her office, then turned to face the POTUS. With her eyes brimming, she blurted, “I’ll say it one more time, then you won’t hear it again from me: I am so very sorry. It has been and will always be an honor to serve you. Now let me run Senator Lopez down for you.”
As she walked away, the president said, “Thank you, Lizbeth. It is I who is honored to have you on my staff.”
When she closed the door, President Sheppard swiveled his chair to face the small wooden table sitting in front of the window behind his desk.
Four framed photos adorned one side of the table. One frame held a picture of him and his wife taken years ago during a visit to Glacier National Park. Although bundled in a dazzling white ski suit, she was radiant, outshining even the surrounding ice pack. Another photo was of his oldest son standing proud in his army dress blues. It was taken after he had graduated from his Officer Advanced Course, one month before he shipped out with his company to help quell the conflict that had just started in Iran. The president picked up the frame and gazed wistfully at his son’s photo. A lump rose in his throat.
“Mr. President,” Lizbeth said over the intercom, “I have Senator Lopez on line one.”
Sheppard turned away from the photo and cleared his throat. He picked up the receiver. “Senator Lopez, thank you for taking my call. I hope I’m not interrupting anything too terribly important.”
“Not at all, Mr. President. Actually, it’s a welcome reprieve from an office full of drug manufacturer lobbyists. Besides
, it’s an honor to hear from you. I’ve never had the president of the United States call little ol’ me before.”
Sheppard chuckled. “Their loss, Mia. I have a matter of quite some importance that I want you to consider. Can I assume that you either saw or heard about my announcements today?”
“Mr. President, I can’t tell you how sorry I am to learn of your cancer. It breaks my heart. I feel for you, your family, and, most of all, for our country. But in answer to your question: yes, sir. My news app has been pretty much exploding all morning. I actually had to turn the buzzer off so I could get through a staff meeting. Of course, everyone else’s were going off. It sounded like springtime in a den of Texas rattlesnakes.”
“Thank you, Mia. I would have my press secretary sign you up to deliver my eulogy,” the POTUS quipped, “except I intend to leave instructions to have a very private, family-only ceremony.
“The reason I’m calling has to do with David Stakley. As you know, he has resigned his position as secretary of state and has declared his intention to run for this office in the next election. He will run on what will be a revitalized Centrist Party ticket. You also know he has my total and complete support. Hell, he would have my vote, too, except I won’t be around to cast it.
“What hasn’t been announced is that David has the support of an influential group of politically active philanthropists. I’m sure you are familiar with Envision-2100, especially since several of their more notable members hail from the Lone Star State.” The president leaned forward, placing his elbow on the table, anticipating what he knew would be the senator’s response.
“Yes, sir, I’m very familiar with Envision-2100. They’ve always been relatively low-key, from what I’ve seen. But I know for a fact that they have privately funded several help-those-who-help-themselves educational and employment initiatives in Texas and elsewhere. They call it Bootstrap.”
“That’s right, Mia. And Bootstrap is just one of their give-back-to-the-people programs. I mention Envision-2100 because I wanted you to know that the Stakley campaign won’t be forced to spend a lot of time and effort on fundraising. Not only has Envision-2100 pledged their financial and political support, they actually actively recruited David to run for office.”
“I’m getting the picture, Mr. President. I know Secretary Stakley, although not on a personal level, and like most Americans, I’m keenly aware of his diplomatic success in dealing with the situation in what was North Korea. I’ve also been extremely impressed with him in his role as SecState. Finally, based on what you’re telling me, which of course I did not know, it sounds like he is coming into the arena with a commanding financial and, given your announcement, political support base.
“What I’m not seeing, Mr. President, is how any of this entitles me to a personal phone call from you less than an hour after what is without a doubt the most important day in your career. How could I possibly deserve that level of attention?”
“That’s one of the things I admire about you, Senator Lopez. No pussyfooting around. You cut right to the chase. The reason I called, and the reason I called so urgently, is that David, myself, and the entire board of Envision-2100 would like for you, Mia Lopez, to be the next vice president of the United States.”
The POTUS paused to let his words sink in.
Finally Mia broke the silence: “Mr. President, I don’t know what to say. Talk about a surprise. This morning, like any other morning, I get up, have a cup of coffee, eat a muffin, go to the office. Then an hour later find out that our president has terminal cancer, is resigning from office, and wants me to run for vice president in a campaign whose existence I only learned about three days ago. Are you kidding me? Hell yes, I’ll run!”
President Sheppard chuckled, charmed by the senator’s candor and sharp-tongued Texas wit.
“Actually, sir,” Senator Lopez continued, “I need to recover my composure and let this sink in before I commit to getting on a horse I can’t ride. I hope you weren’t expecting an answer this morning.”
“Not at all, Mia. Take as much time as you need, as long as you don’t need much time.”
The POTUS pleased himself with his own jocularity, especially given the gravity of the time and situation. “David will be calling to ask you himself as soon as I let him know we’ve talked. I wanted to be the first to reach out to you, if for no other reason than to assure you firsthand that David’s campaign will have my unconditional endorsement. I’ll call him as soon as we hang up. I suspect you will hear from him before lunch, so give some prayerful consideration to this offer, Mia.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. Believe me, I will.”
“No, thank you, Senator. I hope to talk to you again soon. Goodbye.”
The president hung up the phone and turned again to face the four photos on the table behind him. He picked up one of his son. “Well, son, it won’t be long before I see you again. I’ve missed you so much. I love you, Matthew.”
He set the frame back down on the table, swiveled his chair around, grabbed his telephone, and punched in David Stakley’s mobile number. He could have used the digital assistant that was now incorporated into his desk phone, but something about that disembodied, soulless voice gave him the creeps. Besides, despite the NSA’s assurances to the contrary, he wasn’t totally sure that someone deep in the bowels of Fort Meade wasn’t listening to his conversations when he used that robotic bitch.
Stakley answered on the second ring. “Good morning, Mr. President. I just saw the clip of your announcement. It was exceptionally moving, sir. Of course, it’s all over the news channels now. You caught the pundits off guard, so now they’re all over the board with their postbriefing analyses. How did the vice president take it?”
“I haven’t talked to him yet, David. I promised I’d meet with him later today, but first I wanted to get back to my office and call Mia Lopez. I just got off the phone with her. As you might imagine, she seemed surprised. And if I read the inflections in her voice correctly, she was more than a little flattered. I didn’t press her for an answer. I told her to think the offer over and that she should look for your call later today. Actually, I told her to expect a call before lunch.”
“That will happen as soon as I hang up the phone,” David replied. “I know you don’t like for someone to gush, but let me say one last time how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me over the years. And that’s a long list, Mr. President. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, David. I appreciate the level of professionalism you have displayed before and after becoming SecState. I am equally appreciative of your devotion and loyalty. I know a lot of people don’t hold those traits in such high esteem these days, but, believe me, I do. I better let you go so you can take care of lining up your running mate. Good luck, and let me know how things go.
“Oh, and, David, don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything within my power that I can do to help you succeed with what lies before you. Now I can’t put it off any longer; I have to meet with Jim Phillips and let him tell me what a turncoat asshole I am. Talk to you later.”
The president gently placed the phone back in its cradle, took a deep breath, and, with a sigh, pushed himself off his chair.
Before he had fully straightened, his heart stopped beating.
The most powerful person on earth saw a blinding flash of light, and then everything went black.
Lizbeth found him an hour later, swallowed up in his huge leather chair, a faint smile etched forever on his face.
32
US Route 191 approximately ten miles north of Jackson Hole
The day after the day of
Jeremy had been inching the F-250 forward at an agonizingly slow pace for over five hours, stopping every hour to change out the cloth he was using to cover the truck’s air filter. Each time, he was amazed that the engine was able to keep running, yet it did, despite ove
r an inch of gunk caked around the air intake. The F-250 just kept bulldozing its way forward.
Finally, the ever-growing blanket of ash was too much. Even in four-wheel drive, and with the transmission in low, the truck could not push forward. It ground to a stop approximately half a mile past a road sign indicating the Craig Thomas Visitor Center was located to their west.
“I’m afraid this is the end of the line, folks,” Jeremy announced. “Unless someone has a better suggestion, we have to hole up here and wait for the National Guard or the Park Service or someone to rescue us.”
From the center of the back seat, Sophie, who was cradling Hunter in her lap, spoke up. “We might as well face the facts: there’s a real good chance we could be trapped here for days, maybe longer.”
Brandon, sitting to Sophie’s right, on the passenger side, added, “I agree. The situation is what it is. It would be best for us to plan for the worst and hope for the best.”
Jeremy looked at Fiona, sitting on the driver’s side of the back seat, through his rearview mirror and then at Ellis sitting between him and Judy. Their eyes welled up in apprehension and accumulating fear.
Judy glanced at the twins with concern. “OK, folks, everyone gets out of the truck and into the Airstream. We can take stock of our situation and come up with some sort of action plan. This stuff will stop falling eventually, and we just have to ride it out until it does.”
Judy pulled her makeshift mask over her mouth and nose and reached for the truck door. “Give me a few seconds to unlock the Airstream, and then everyone can come inside. But put on your mask first and keep it on until you get inside.” She closed the door and started toward the RV.
“Jeremy, are you concerned that Snake might find us while we’re stopped?” Brandon asked as he wrapped a towel around his face.
“Sure, that thought crossed my mind as soon as we ground to a halt. Just one more thing on my list of shit to worry about, but I’ve got five more rounds in my three fifty-seven, and four of them aren’t birdshot. Plus, even if he feels like walking, he and his hog of a girlfriend will have to slug through a good ten miles of volcano dirt to reach us. We’ll deal with that if it happens. Our first order of business is to assess the mess we’re in and how we’re going to survive as a group until someone shows up to dig us out. Now, let’s go see if Judy has things all cozy for us.”
Out of Crisis Page 20
