The End Of October - Lawrence Wright Page 0,108

began packing up everything. “Find her purse,” she told Teddy. “Maybe she’s got some money.”

They went through the apartment, stealing everything they thought they might be able to eat or trade, but the purse was nowhere in evidence. Finally, they went back into the bedroom. This time the black cat bolted out of the room. They didn’t look at what was left of Mrs. Hernández. Teddy found her purse on the bureau. Her wallet was inside, along with a hairbrush and a small gun. Teddy didn’t say anything. He gave the wallet to Helen and put the gun in his pocket.

39

Satan Is Loose in the World

The president was quick to declare victory in the Middle East showdown with Russia. A surprise cruise missile strike on the airbases where Russian aircraft were stationed took out at least half of the Su-57s and destroyed the runways, eliminating their airpower as a factor in the conflict. The Russian Pacific Fleet was blocked as it rounded the Maldives by an armada of U.S. and British warships. For Putin, it was a humiliating retreat. Inside the Kremlin, there were whispers about the end of his rule.

For Tildy Nichinsky, it was as sweet a moment as she had ever known. The president had trusted her advice, and look how it paid off. He informed her that he was appointing her his new national security adviser—a signal to insiders that the days of placating the Russian leader were over.

It was finally deemed safe for the president to emerge from Mount Weather and move back into the White House, having survived the contagion along with most of his cabinet. The secretary of commerce was dead, as were two Supreme Court justices. At least forty members of Congress had died. It would be weeks before basic transportation could be back in service and people felt safe enough to emerge from their shelters. And, of course, there were so many funerals to attend.

Just at this moment, when the number of reported cases of influenza began to decline in most countries and recovery seemed imminent, the lights went out. Tildy awakened late because her alarm failed to go off. When she went to brush her teeth, the water didn’t come on. The gas was off on the stove. She tried to call the White House switchboard, but there was no signal, nothing, on either her landline or her cell. Her secure phone had not yet been installed after the president’s announcement.

Unwashed, with her hair tucked beneath an Astros cap, Tildy set out to walk to the White House. It was raining, just her luck. She walked up 7th Street toward the National Mall, the wind shoving her umbrella about. Dogs ran loose. She noted the looted stores and the absence of police. The only people on the street were dangerous-looking teenagers, perhaps members of one of the orphan gangs she had read about. She often heard gunshots. That very night, there had been several explosions. Tildy reminded herself that she was now one of the most powerful people in the country, but in her condo, alone, she felt like a scared old lady.

The rain was coming down hard, making puddles in the potholes. There were no lights anywhere, no traffic signals. Three fire trucks blocked the intersection of D Street. Several townhouses that once stood on the corner were now a pile of rubble. “Gas main explosion,” one of the firemen explained, the rain spilling off his helmet. “We got ’em all over town.” They were digging out the bodies.

At least there were still firemen, so there was still government, so there was still civilization. It felt crazy to be thinking such things.

The White House was on its backup generator, which gave the place a feeling of normalcy, but everything inside was in transition. Most of the former president’s cabinet were still in office—those who were alive and functioning—but the new president wanted his own people close to him, so a new chief of staff greeted Tildy.

“I know he’s going to want to see you,” the chief said. “We can’t get hold of people. You did the right thing just to come directly here.”

She handed Tildy a shawl to put around her wet shoulders. The new chief had made history by being the first woman to occupy that office—if history was still being made, Tildy thought darkly. Practically no one outside of a small circle in Washington knew what was happening. The internet was down. There was no television or radio.

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