When they finally reached the presidential suite on the second floor of the White House, Daniel studied the new doorframe closely before going in. The maintenance team had done an excellent job of matching the antique doorframe and paint. Daniel pushed open the door and saw that the room had been cleaned, new carpet had been installed, new bed clothes had been put on the bed and were laid back in expectation of a new occupant.
“Jason,” Daniel asked. “What happened to the girl who was here?”
“She’s in the hospital, they’re treating her for shock.”
“Still?”
“Doctor Franks said that some women who have been terrorized never recover,” Scott said simply.
Daniel lay down on the bed, letting his friends help him with the covers, his mind on Lana, wherever she was, still scarred and ruined just like his eye.
Chapter 24
For a month people continued to come to Washington, D.C. Like faithful pilgrims they made their way first to the White House to see who was in charge. Daniel, having recovered from his surgery, worked relentlessly as the new president. He met daily with different leaders and people who had concerns. He pushed the council to expand and work not only at restoring the city, but also at recruiting the new citizens into their task forces. But as they approached July, the numbers of incoming people suddenly stopped. When two weeks had passed without a new arrival to the city, it was obvious something had to be done.
“Perhaps we’re all that’s left,” said the maintenance representative. He was a heavyset man who wore blue jeans and flannel despite the increasingly warm days as summer began. He often arrived for the council meetings with his tool belt still on, his hands and clothes still covered in dust and dirt from his work.
“I find that hard to believe,” said the administration representative.
Many others agreed with her, but it was the supplies representative, a tall, thin man in his late fifties with a full head of silver hair, who spoke up.
“If the fringe and militant communities have grown as we have, perhaps they are now large enough to stop all the travelers coming into Washington.”
Many of the new citizens had been harassed, if not outright attacked, by groups around the city. Word had come in the week after Daniel’s surgery that a group calling itself the Potomac Survivalists had taken control of Alexandra and were stopping all travelers coming into Washington on I-395.
“I find that,” the maintenance rep said sarcastically, “hard to believe.”
“Listen,” Daniel said; his patience had been thin since the surgery, and he had taken a more aggressive approach to his leadership. “Until we get the satellite surveillance figured out, we need answers that can only be given through effective intelligence operatives.”
“What you’re suggesting sounds frighteningly like secret police,” the admin rep said.
“No,” Jason chimed in; being the security representative gave him the right to address the council, while Scott, as Daniel’s executive assistant, could only speak when directly addressed. “What the president is suggesting is that we send out a few individuals, people we can trust, to report to this council on the conditions of the groups around us. Think of it as the CIA; they’ll have the authority to make sure our neighbors are friendly, but no authority at home.”
“I know we need information,” the admin rep said. “But I think we’re better off to live and let live. We can’t afford to antagonize the groups around us, especially if they are militant.”
“Alright, I know these types of decisions are uncomfortable for everyone,” Daniel said. He had risen from his chair, his hands clutched tightly behind him. He began to pace at the head of the table. “None of us want to repeat the mistakes of the pre-plague government. But we can’t sit back and pretend that there isn’t a world beyond downtown Washington, D.C. There are still way too many unanswered questions, and if we are going to be a beacon of hope, we must have a way to get people into the city.”
“But we don’t know if there are any people left to come into the city,” said the maintenance rep.
“And that’s the point,” Daniel argued. “We need to send out people who can report to us the conditions around the city and beyond.”
The vote was close, but the motion passed, and when the meeting adjourned, several council members left immediately, while several stayed to congratulate Daniel. It was the first divisive issue the newly formed government had faced, and Daniel thought it was unfortunate that he could not bring the entire council to his side before the decision was made. But since his surgery, he had put away all ideas of the new Washington becoming a place where everyone lived in harmony. He had risen to power in the void left by the plague, but he had also lost so much, and the gunman whose bullet had resulted in Daniel losing the sight in his right eye had taught Daniel that no matter what the circumstances, there would always be people who took an opposing view of things. The gunman, Dennis, as his friends had called him, chose to believe what he wanted and those beliefs, although fatal, had led him to act. Now, Daniel did what he thought was best, if people liked it, then great, it made his job easier. If they didn’t like his decisions, well then they shouldn’t have written his name on the ballot.
Once everyone had left, Daniel and Scott retired to the Oval Office. The oval shaped room that had once been decorated in antiques from American history was now a very different place. The old furnishing had been replaced with sleek, modern furniture that was both comfortable and appealing to Daniel’s sense of taste. There were two heavy, leather sitting chairs on one side of the room, and Daniel fell into one. He rolled his head around, trying to stretch out the sore muscles in his shoulders and neck.
“Well,” said Scott, “it passed.”
“Yes, I knew it would. We don’t like it, but we know that there are still people out there. Some of whom are very dangerous. Have we made any progress in developing long range communications?”
“No,” Scott said, frowning. “We just don’t have the right people yet. The technology works, but there’s something missing in the infrastructure. We’ll get it up and running as soon as we can.”
“I’m just not sure how we’re suppose to learn anything if our spies can’t communicate with us.”
“We’ll just have to do it the old fashion way, with relays and people who can move the information back to us.”
“Alright, I want to meet the people Jason’s been training. I also want to send out some diplomats, people who can communicate who we are and what we want from the groups we find.”
Scott scribbled onto his notepad.
“I’ve got meetings the rest of the afternoon?” Daniel asked.
Scott confirmed his schedule and then hurried from the room. Soon, Daniel’s secretary knocked and came into the office. She also outlined the timeframe for the afternoon and informed Daniel that his first appointment was waiting for him. He stood, stretched, and then sat behind the big wooden desk. It was the only piece of furniture he had kept. He liked the feel of the big desk, its sturdy frame felt like the only firm thing left in his life. As he sat and waited for his secretary to put his first meeting together, he thought once again of home.
He had often thought of life before the plague, before his ambitions had driven him from home. He realized that he could have stayed home, gotten a job, perhaps even married. He could have been a father when the plague hit, but he would have gone crazy with grief. He still mourned Lana, even though she wasn’t dead. Then again, he wasn’t really sure that the millions, perhaps billions of people who had succumbed to the plague were really dead, either. There was still no sign of decay in the people being removed from houses, hotels, offices, and apartment complexes. He made a mental note to have his secretary plan a meeting, off the record, with the doctors and scientists that had come to Washington. He wanted answers, and perhaps now he had the resources to get them.
The afternoon waned as Daniel met with people, answered questions, made notes, and
assured everyone that things were running smoothly. He had developed a masterful poker face and could lie convincingly and without a moment’s hesitation. When his dinner finally arrived, and Scott with it, Daniel was anxious to stretch his legs.
“Can we eat and walk at the same time?” Daniel said, rising without waiting for a reply.
“Sure,” Scott said as he scrambled from the seat he had just taken. They walked out into the Rose Garden and munched the gourmet pizza the cooking staff had prepared. The pizza was made on fresh focaccia bread and topped with mushrooms and artichokes, which Daniel didn’t really care for. The sauce was a zesty pesto marinara that was as green as it was red. The cheese was thick and white, Daniel wasn’t sure what kinds there were, but he loved the taste and requested it often. He also requested that they not use the artichokes, but was summarily ignored; apparently the president only had so much power.
They walked along the manicured lawn while Scott juggled a notepad under one arm and Daniel picked the artichokes from his pizza and tossed them into the rose bushes. For several minutes they moved and ate in amiable silence, listening to the sounds of distant laughter, conversations, and the closer sound of bees buzzing around the rosebuds. Finally, with his portion half gone, Scott spoke up.
“I’ve got some news that might interest you,” he said. Daniel raised his eyebrows, his mouth full of food. “I was going back over the census data and we have a helicopter pilot.”
“Really?”
“Yes, he hasn’t flown in a while. I tracked him down this afternoon; he’s working on the cleanup crew moving cars. Anyway, he flew for twelve years with the Marine Corps. He kept his pilot’s license current and he said he could probably fly just about anything we find.”
“That would give us a significant advantage,” Daniel said. His mind was spinning with ideas. His supper, usually one of the few things he actually looked forward to in his long days of meetings and decisions, was now totally forgotten. “I want to meet him—and get Jason here, too.”
Scott nodded and hurried off back into the White House. Daniel looked at the bushes and ate the rest of his pizza without tasting a bite. A plan had begun to form in his mind and he needed a map.
***
Back in the Oval Office, with a map of Washington, D.C., and the surrounding suburbs laid out on his desk, Daniel had begun making notes on his yellow legal pad. There was a short knock on the door, then Scott entered, followed by a man with a stringy grey beard. The man was tall, with thin arms and legs. His belly protruded, almost like a pregnant woman’s, but the man moved easily. He was smiling, his eyes sharp and sparkling as he took in the Oval Office and even Daniel.
“Mr. President,” Scott said formally, “this is Captain Franklin Baxter.”
“Retired,” the wiry pilot said, thrusting out a hand for Daniel to shake.
Daniel shook hands and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Baxter. I hear you fly helicopters.”
“Please, call me Hank, everyone does. I flew heavies for the Marines, although I was certified on the attack choppers and even cargo planes.”
“Scott tells me you feel you could fly just about anything,” Daniel said, studying the man to see if he would react to the statement. Daniel trusted Scott, but his chief assistant wanted to please him so badly that he sometimes exaggerated things a little.
“Sure,” Hank said, “I lean toward helicopters and single engine prop planes, but I can fly anything that’s ever been built.”
The pilot’s answer was solid, his posture never changed, his eye contact with Daniel never wavered.
“Have a seat, Hank,” Daniel said. “I’m waiting for Jason McPherson. When he arrives, we’ll get started.”
Scott poured coffee into large, heavy mugs; Daniel had insisted the delicate china the former president, perhaps every president, had used was just not his style. He wanted a large cup, with plenty of creamer and sugar to make his caffeine habit palatable. And he wanted to hold the cup without fear of breaking or dropping it. The big, ceramic mugs fit his hand perfectly.
Soon, as Daniel, Scott, and Hank made small talk about where they were from and where the pilot was staying, Jason arrived.
The three men, who had been sitting on the leather couches, stood, and Daniel introduced Jason.
“Hank, this is Lieutenant Jason McPherson, U.S. Navy SEALs, and security chief.” Hank, his posture as erect as a lightening rod, saluted as Daniel continued the introduction, “Jason, this is Captain Franklin Baxter, Marine Corps.”
Jason smiled and returned the salute. “I should be saluting you,” he said merrily, “you out rank me, Captain.”
“No,” Hank said, smiling, “you may have been a lieutenant, but you might as well be wearing stars on your shoulder now.”
The two military men laughed and Daniel was glad to see the instant friendliness between the two of them. He retrieved the map and laid it out on the table between the two couches.
“Alright,” Daniel said. “Hank’s a pilot. I want to get him in the air, so how do we get him a helicopter?”
Jason’s eyes grew round and Hank smiled as Daniel pointed to a location on the map.
“Here’s our best chance, guys, and for all intents and purposes of this little endeavor here in Washinton, it’s a position we must control at all costs.”
Jason whistled a long, low note of amazement.
“Is that possible?” Scott asked.
“I don’t know,” Jason said.
“First priority,” Daniel said, “is to secure aircraft. I want a helicopter or airplane on the lawn of the White House.”
Hank laughed and Jason looked bewildered.
“I’m serious, I want you to form a team to go in, assess the situation, and get us something to fly home.”
“Daniel,” Jason said, “that’s Andrews Air Force Base. There’s probably a major militant group entrenched there. I know I would be.”
“Yes, but they’re amateurs, not professional soldiers,” Daniel argued. “Besides, they won’t be expecting a small team to come in and take their aircraft right from under their noses.”
“Surprise is a formidable weapon, but it doesn’t guarantee success,” Hank said. “Even if you could get in, getting a helicopter or plane off the ground would take probably ten minutes. And once those engines start warming up, everyone in the surrounding area will know it.”
“We don’t have the man power to attempt a full assault,” Jason said. “We haven’t even begun to train volunteers, or even recruit them.”
“Yes, yes, I know all of that,” Daniel said. “But you have some guys on your security force who could do it. I’m not asking for you to take the hill, just get me a rock from the hill.”
“A big, heavy rock from the top of the hill,” Hank said, smiling; he seemed amused and excited all at the same time.
“A hill made of weapons and probably covered with crazy, militant survivalists,” Jason said.
“Come on, they don’t have the gas powered weapons we’ve got, do they?” Daniel argued.
“No,” Jason said.
“And we don’t know for sure that there’s even anyone there,” Scott said.
Jason shot the chief assistant a look that said, don’t be naïve.
“Can you do it?” Daniel said.
“You willing?” Jason asked Hank.
“Affirmative,” the pilot said.
“Alright,” Jason said, “but it won’t be easy.”
Chapter 25
The next week was very busy; Jason spent his mornings training four of his best security officers, the afternoons he spent in the Oval Office planning the mission. Andrews Air Force Base was not the closest military installation. Fort McNair was only a few miles away from the White House, but was more of a military public relations experiment than a base. The Bolling Air Force Base was just across the Anacostia River, but it served as a leadership school and housed the military bands and honor guards. They didn’t expect to find anythin
g useful in either of those bases. The Anacostia Naval Base was home of the Marine One squadron, the helicopter used by the President and Vice President when short range flights were necessary. So after a week of preparation, Jason led his team, six members in all, including Hank, whose round belly made him look almost comical in the military jumpsuit he wore, to the naval base. Their biggest obstacle would be crossing the river, which formed a natural boundary on two sides of the downtown area. It was possible that militant groups might already be set up at the naval station, but it was doubtful. There wasn’t much of use at the military installations, and no one had seen any aircraft in the skies over D.C. since the plague. That probably meant that Daniel’s group had the only pilot around. If they could secure that area, they would have access to the aircraft housed there and also a good place to train new pilots.
They security team set off at dusk on a Saturday night. The population of the new Washington had begun a weekly ritual of indulgence on this one night of the week, and everyone ceased their labors on Sunday, preferring to lounge around or sleep off the previous night’s libations. Daniel was in the security room in the bunker with Scott and another member of the surveillance team, watching Jason’s group from tiny cameras mounted on the security force’s helmets. The video signal range was only about five miles, which was normally picked up and retransmitted by aerial reconnaissance planes, but they expected to have a good feed for most, if not all, of the mission.
The security team, dubbed Alpha Group, easily moved south toward Ft. McNair. This part of the city formed a peninsula with the Potomac River to the west and the Anacostia River to the south and east. The Army base was deserted, except for bodies and automobiles where the cleanup crews had yet to begin working. Alpha Group drove in a single file line, each man with his gear and weapons, riding motorcycles with retrofitted mufflers to keep the engine noise to a minimum. At the base, they wove through the stalled and abandoned automobiles and made their way to the boat dock. Almost the entire population of the city now resided in or around the block that surrounded the White House. Alpha Group didn’t see another living soul. They chose a boat with a trolling motor, and after priming the battery, they set off across the Anacostia River.
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