A clang from above and a metallic groan from the hull, snapped him out of his reverie. Could it be the enemy arriving already? He would have plenty of time for daydreaming on his way back to freedom, he pressed the transmit button, his mouth dropped open in despair as a box appeared on screen; enter pass-code….
CHAPTER 34
17:30 PM
Quinn Martell never failed to be awe struck by the grandeur of the White House, of its one hundred and thirty odd rooms, and over thirty bathrooms spread over six floors. He circled the building in the Sikorsky helicopter. In fact, the whole of Washington was an architect’s dream, for the planners had created a magnificent city, where the White House stood as the crowning glory amongst so many other remarkable buildings.
The chopper landed on the helipad and an armed guard swiftly escorted him into the west wing of the White House. They marched him briskly along corridors until they entered the private wing. Some of the staff recognized him and greeted him by name, others smiled and nodded, some of the closer aides to the President showed signs of relief. Did he image it or did one elderly secretary genuflect, when he passed her?
Was he their guardian angel, and if so, why? He did not have to wait long for his answer, because as he got closer to the Oval Office he could hear the President ranting and raving from all the way down the corridor and if he was not very much mistaken, he thought he heard furniture smash.
He entered the outer office and a look of joy spread across the secretary’s face. One of the armed guards protecting the Oval Office rolled his eyes, as if to say, ‘at last, someone sane’. Quinn Martell knocked and entered.
Hamilton Parker, turned and at first did not seem to recognize the surgeon general, then flashed his toothy grin as if he was still campaigning. “Quinn, good of you to come, can I fix you a drink?”
Quinn declined and quickly became aware that the other men present in the room, were drinking and in high spirits. He also couldn’t help noticing they all were young, and that he did not know any of their faces.
The President spotted this and explained. “These are some old college buddies I’ve brought in to help.” He held up his hand to stop his protest. “Don’t be alarmed these are some of the brightest advisors and strategists in their fields.”
“Where’s the Speaker of the House?” Quinn asked trying to keep his voice level and knowing that he was going to need a big-hitter to back him up if he diagnosed the President as unfit for office.
“Aw, he resigned, can you believe? He walked out just like that.” He clicked his fingers. “I should have him shot for treason.”
One of his friends chuckled at the thought, Hamilton grinned playing to the audience.
“But there has to be a chain of command,” Quinn said. “It must not be broken. You’re the President; there is no Vice President, who’d take your place if anything should happen to you? Next in line is the Speaker of the House.”
“We’ll, I fired his sorry ass.” He smirked to his pack of giggling cronies.
“You said he walked out?”
“It’s the same thing. I fired him — he walked out. End of story.”
“I don’t think you can fire him, it’s in the const—”
“I’m the goddamned President and I will do what I like!” he raged, his face turning purple. He regained his composure and smiled. “The Speaker of the House wasn’t with the program and had to go.” He stomped over to his desk, lit a big fat Cuban cigar and passed the box around to his buddies. The surgeon general scowled. “Oh, what, you’re going to tell me I can’t smoke in a public building?” He sniggered to his friends and got the laugh he hoped to receive. “Or you’re going to tell me they’re bad for my health?”
“Mister President the chain of command must remain intact. It’s imperative, particularly in the present circumstances.”
“Who’d come after the Speaker of the House?”
“I don’t know off the top of my head,” Quinn said.
“Nor do I, but please don’t worry your pretty little head,” he said. “I’m not planning on dying any time soon. I have a strategy for Florida. It won’t be a problem soon. So, all I need from you is some drugs, and lots of ‘em, to keep me alert.”
Quinn Martell’s face clouded over, he knew the country faced an equally difficult problem in the form of the lunatic stood in front of him.
17:55 PM
Luke and Sophie strolled through the Galleria Shopping Mall in Fort Lauderdale as if on an everyday shopping-trip. Unlike regular shoppers buying clothes and gadgets, their shopping list contained weapons and ammunition. Dead bodies littered the Mall and they covered their noses with scarves and tried to avert their eyes, but the bodies were plentiful and they grew immune to the carnage.
Luke pushed a squeaky shopping cart, which had a mind of its own and kept veering off. Luke and Sophie headed for the gun store and loaded assorted rifles, pistols and ammunition into the cart. He also took items that he had no idea why a normal citizen would think they were needed to protect themselves — anti-personal mines being one. The next port of call was the Safeway supermarket, where they grabbed underwear, toothbrushes and other personal items to make them feel at least half-human. Looters had stripped most of the shelves, but they were able to stock up on tinned and dried goods.
The supermarket was cold, bordering on freezing. Luke flapped his shirt relieved to be out of the baking heat and opened a refrigerated unit to make the most of it. He scooped a handful of ice and offered it to Sophie, who took it gratefully and wiped the cubes around her neck then between her breasts. Luke turned his head away, finding this surprisingly erotic.
Sophie heard a faint squeak and said; “Listen?”
“It’s the shopping cart,” he said.
“No, it’s in the distance. Can’t you hear it?”
He strained and detected a far off noise, the squeaking made his skin crawl although he did not know why, he felt danger. “Let’s get out of here,” but stopped dead in their tracks, as they saw rats feeding on the corpses of the dead.
Sophie’s mouth dropped open and she let out a small cry. “Let’s not go past them. Can we go another way?”
“Sure.” He turned and took off in the opposite direction, but the wheel of
his cart squeaked loudly and he saw the nearest rat to them lift its head, its nose twitched as if weighing them up for a food source. Surely, they would prefer eating the dead, Luke thought, or at least hoped. He surmised that it must be easier for them to eat the dead, after all they weren’t going to put up a fight. He hoped that the rats had not yet got a taste for live human flesh, because despite the fact that the creatures were small, they usually had a natural fear of humans, but their numbers were vast.
Luke and Sophie turned the corner to the nearest exit, then were rooted to the spot, as hundreds, if not thousands of rats filled the walkway. Again most gorged on the corpses of the dead, but some looked up at the squeaking shopping cart. Luke backed up slowly, knowing they should find a different exit. Sophie did likewise, her eyes glued to the multiple threats.
One rat raised its head and its blood-soaked snout twitched as it assessed them, it then let out a horrendous screech that encouraged the others to join in. The cacophony of screeches sounded to Luke like they had descended into hell, throwing himself sideways as a rat launched itself at him.