My
Journal
By
Harriman Nelson
~In
God We Trust~
12
It
was late afternoon when we reached the Witch’s Cauldron and were able to report
to the DOD that our investigations showed no secret base of operations by the
PR Alliance.
We
also celebrated one birthday, one promotion, and a new parent.
O’Brien
had been informed by an NIMR fax, with images, that his wife had been safely
delivered of a seven pound two ounce baby boy. There was a lot of hearty
backslapping. Chip gave Frank a full ten minutes to radio home, via the
Observation Nose videophone, so he could have a little privacy from behind the
closed pleats.
The
DOD had duly and finally promoted Cookie to Master Chief Petty Officer, which
was long overdue by time served, but his long stint with NIMR had slowed
things. I promised him a celebratory
drink once were on leave again. But that might be awhile as things have been
moving swiftly on the war front. At least so far Lee’s managed to avoid
stepping into any more deep doo doo,
despite a massive explosion in Detroit, Michigan.
At
first I wasn’t quite sure if he had told the nation the truth about it when he
held an impromptu news conference in the West Wing’s Press Office. His eyes,
well, eye, was hooded, the other having with a flag print eyepatch over it, but
he was wearing a black armband.
“...My
fellow Americans, friends, and allies. I wanted to speak with you before the
press or casual observers...A little less than five minutes ago, the
Amalgamated Industries Manufacturing Plant in Detroit, Michigan, was
deliberately attacked by a terrorist group which has taken responsibility for
it. The massive explosion is still being investigated for both nuclear and bio
hazard residue.
“...I
want to assure you that this was not a missile attack, although to the naked
eye, the mushroom cloud did indeed look similar to one, though on a far lesser scale any missile would have had.
“...The death toll from inside the plant is
still unknown, but as it’s a weekend it’s hoped to be minimal. The PR Alliance has congratulated its
followers in the US for taking action but has not identified the actual members
of the group, which sad to say, has identified itself as followers of the ‘Save
the World Foundation’, an offshoot of the anti-war website.
“...Some 700,000 plus souls in and around the
Detroit area, and an untold number of animals, are being evacuated to hospitals
in Wayne County, Michigan, and to Ontario, Canada to be checked for radiation
and bio hazard poisoning. Included in the exodus are an untold number of
animals, pets, and livestock to veterinary centers. The CDC is on top of the
situation and we hope to hear their reports soon.
“...The
‘Save the World’ website’s owner has been taken into custody in order to
ascertain if he has sanctioned this offshoot of his site, and the website has,
at least temporarily, been taken down.
“...Meanwhile
the US and her allies are steadfastly working together to continue to defend
our shores from both the PR’s missile attacks, some attacks which have some dangerously
close, and to defend us from future terrorist attacks like this one in Detroit.
“...As
you know, the PR Alliance’s goal is not only to overrun and take over the US
and her allies, but also to force our combined democracies to falter and cower
before them. This, of course, none of us will allow. We and our allies are still on full military
and homeland alert, and I can also inform you that Admiral Nelson is fast at
work developing an anti- radiation/biohazard formulation to make any such enemy
and terrorist weaponry
defunct.
“...We,
will, of course, as we have always been, open to a negotiated peace, but not at
the expense of our democracies and freedoms.
“...God
bless you, and God bless the United States of America, her friends, and
allies.”
He
didn’t take any of the deluge of questions.
Less
than a minute later Seaview got a fax from the Secretary of Defense telling us
we could expect a Navy escort for as long as we, or I were at sea. No
explanations were included, except perhaps one. An addendum, handwritten by
Lee...
Sorry, Harry. You and your brilliant
mind are my most valuable players just now.
Everyone thinks I’m crazy to believe even
you can deliver what no scientist on earth believes can be done. But I know you
can.
Lee
Damn, I miss Seaview!
And
so, Sparks kept us all apprised of the situation while I joined the crew to
celebrate Riley’s twenty third birthday and we all enjoyed the double chocolate
birthday cake.
He
managed to blow out all the candles so easily I couldn’t help feeling a bit
jealous. I would have probably only managed a couple. I really do need to try
to stop smoking again.
It
was about an hour later when Sparks announced breaking news, and turned on the
monitors to the sight of Air Force One landing in the rain.
“...We’re
here at Willow Run Airport,” a reporter was saying. “We’ve been informed that
the president will be meeting with the Governor in Lansing, Mayor O’Moore of Detroit, and Mayor Angie Dunkin of Willow Run at
the emergency command center set up here.
“...Willow
Run is only about 20 miles from Detroit, so that city’s administration is close enough by to
maintain control. And Willow Run is one of the Evac destinations for those
fleeing Detroit. Ah, here’s the limo which will take the president to the
temporary command center.
“...The
plane has completed taxiing to the drop off point. The hatch is opening up... the president can be
seen behind some of the Secret Service Agents who are checking things out
and walking down the steps ahead of
him... he’s emerging now, with more agents behind him. He’s not using an
umbrella, and the agents seem to be a little bit disturbed by that...”
“At
least he’s wearing a rain coat,” Chip said.
As
soon as Lee’s feet stepped onto the tarmac’s puddles, he greeted the governor
and both mayors. Then waving to the crowd, safely behind barriers, Lee,
accompanied by several of his agents, joined his greeters to their limo, some of the agents having to use
government vehicles ahead of and behind,
along with a police escort.
“...And
there they go....we’ll bring you more as it happens.”
And
happen it would, only we didn’t know what or when.
***
There
was so much news coverage of the explosion and possible effects that it kept
repeating itself over and over and finally I gave up watching any of Seaview’s
split screens and joined in the name the baby game, kind of a bingo, for
O’Brien’s new baby. And then it happened. Sparks flipped the monitor to one screen
and turned on the audio....
“...We’re restricted from driving into Detroit
ourselves,” the reporter said, “but our news helicopters are allowed to
hover...you can see the destroyed factory, smoke still swirling in areas...a
lot of debris. Heavily armed military and police vehicles and a Hazmat truck
have just arrived. Four military officers and three men in self enclosed anti
radiation protection gear are leaving the safety of their vehicles....ohmygod, is that the president?”
“Oh
gawd, damn it, Lee!” I couldn’t help myself from exploding when I saw for
myself, that yes, indeed, he was one of the men from the Hazmat truck.
“...Isn’t
that too dangerous, risking himself like this?
” the reporter muttered. “Leaving the Vice
President and the country in the lurch? What’s Admiral Nelson, his adopted
father going to say...”
“I’ll
tell you what he’s going to say!” I roared. “Sparks! Take a message for the
president, and I quote, “Are you out of your mind? Get yourself checked out as
soon as you get back to Washington. I might not be able to make it an order,
now. But damn, it, you had better or so help me I’ll storm the White House with
Will and the entire crew if I have to! And you can bet the Secret Service will
let me!’ unquote.”
“Got
it sir. Transmitting to the switchboard. Top priority.”
“...The
team is going through what once was a gate, some with what look like Geiger
counters to determine the level of radiation that the satellites can’t
determine....what’s that, one of the men is pointing and running through the
rubble...it’s the president...at least he’s the only one with an eyepatch. The
others are waving their counters and trying to stop him.”
Lee
suddenly fell to his knees, and began to dig away debris, calling to the others
to help. His gloves were too bulky to
pull at whatever it was he wanted to, so he ripped them off, letting them
dangle from where they’d been attached. The mud and debris was splattering his acrylic
helmet so he pulled it off as well, and began to dig more, while the team tried
to get him to stop. He seemed to be shouting and glaring at them. Suddenly he pulled something up.
“...Ohmygod,” the reporter wept, “it’s a hand....a child’s
hand...and...he and the team are pulling up the rest
of her....there’s a dog too.
The
copter telephoto lenses moved in even closer. Lee was desperately administering
CPR on the child, and chest compressions and mouth to mouth later, while tears
rolled down his face, she suddenly gasped, and coughed.
“...She’s
alive! He saved her...if they’re both not dead already from radiation and the
super bugs already...she’s crying and seems to be calling for her
mother...notices the dog...the president carried her to one of the team and is
working on the dog now, while team members are on their cell phones probably
trying to get the child’s identity from her...my god, CPR to a dog, I know it’s
done but...it’s rousing...the little girl wants to see it...the men are
bringing her to it...a happy reunion, at least temporarily...as she and the dog
cling to the president....we have a communication from the CDC...none of the
survivors examined have been exposed to radiation or any superbugs. And the CDC’s
disaster forensics has disavowed a nuclear or biohazard explosion, though
traces of dynamite have been discovered...seems word’s gotten to the team...the
president’s men are removing their helmets...we’ve also heard that the girl is
Angelica Smith and her parents are safe in the Willow Run shelter....she’s
talking to them now on one of the cell phones, her dog close at her side. The
president is still on his knees, but now, is bending his head, as if in
prayer...ohmygod...the sun has come out and there’s a
rainbow that seems to be curving over him...well, ladies and gentlemen, if
that’s not a sign from Heaven that our president is anointed from on High, I
don’t know what is...the girl and dog have returned to the president’s side,
embracing, kissing, and hugging him. He’s picking them up and taking them to
one of the police vehicles which I assume will take them to the family...the
president is lingering as he waves goodbye...and is returning to the debris
field while the rest of his team is assisting him walking through it to search
for other survivors that were originally overlooked after the blast. It might
be awhile for the search and rescue teams to arrive...”
Just
then Lee pointed to some birds feasting on something. I was afraid to watch. I
think we all were, as the reporter said nothing and just let the camera roll.
But
it was not a disturbed corpse as feared, but the remnant of a vending machine,
its contents spilled out. Lee also pointed to something else a bit further away,
and reached down to pull it up. Mud stained and torn, Old Glory was reverently picked
up and protected in his arms, Lee looked around, hunting for something,
anything still standing...he found a
somewhat upright girder, and tying a couple of knots on the left top and
bottom edges of the tattered symbol of our nation, secured the flag to the
girder. He came to attention and saluted it.
“...No
doubt the patriotic spirit of most Americans has shot up a hundred fold,” the
reporter said, “and I’m sure I’m not the only witness to President
Nelson-Crane’s heroism and loyalty with tears in my eyes.
“...The
National Guard’s search and rescue corps is arriving...relieving the president
and his team, saluting him smartly. One man has even fallen to his knees in
front of him in a kind of religious obeisance. But the president won’t have any
of that...he’s saying his farewells and returning to the Hazmat van. A wave to
all, even to our chopper, as he and his companions enter the vehicle. As the
police escort’s sirens blare and lights flash, I can’t help believing they’re
louder and brighter than ever.”
“Yeah!”
Riley said, banging his fist on his console repeatedly, joined by his
shipmates.” Way to go, Skipper! Er...”
“Way
to go, Skipper, indeed,” Chip said gently and picked up the mike, “Attention
all hands...I’m relaxing the Navy protocol of Seaview being a dry
boat...Cookie? Come and collect a couple of bottles of Johnny Walker to serve
with lunch or supper. One snort per man.”
“Aye,
sir!” Cookie’s voice came through.
Chip
and I, of course, imbibed a couple of snorts before he arrived in the
Observation Nose to collect them.
“I
don’t know whether to scold him or congratulate him,” Chip said, downing his.
“Same
here. By the way Captain. You didn’t exactly seek my permission about the
boat’s company communing with Crewman Walker.”
“Somehow
I don’t think you nor our commander-in-chief would mind us breaking Navy SOP’s just this once.
To the president!” Chip said raising his tumbler.
“To
Lee,” I said quietly joining in the toast.
I
was sure that there might be hell to pay if word of our drinks got to the Secretary
of the Navy. But I greatly doubted if Lee would let him punish us.
“Breaking
news from Willow Run,” Sparks voice announced and
turned my attention to the monitor.
The
police escort had stopped at the entrance to the airport’s administration
building, secured by barricades from the large crowd on the grounds, including
several more press. The ‘men in black’ emerged first from their vehicles,
looking around and speaking into their cell phones as Lee emerged from the van,
changed back into the clothes we’d seen him in when he landed, sans the jacket.
The top two buttons of his shirt were
undone, and his face, hair, and eyepatch were graced with dust and smudges that
he hadn’t managed or bothered to wash off.
“...We
can’t hear what the president is saying to the crowd very well, there’s so much
applause, but it looks like the Secret Service is not exactly happy that he’s
so close to the barricades, and leaning over them to greet the mass of
humanity. The doors of the building are
opening and three persons who most want to greet him, or rather three persons
and a dog, are running toward him. Yes, it’s the little girl and dog whom he’d
saved...and presumably her parents. The two mayors following.”
Lee
scooped the girl up in his arms in a comforting welcoming embrace, and bent
down to stroke and pet the ecstatic dog. The girl’s parents also embraced him,
the mother kissing him on the cheek, the father taking his hands and bowing his
head into them in utter gratitude.
“No,
no no,” Lee was heard, “you’d have done the same. And
I’m sure it was my pal here,” he added stroking the dog, “who helped keep her
from being crushed to death.”
“But
it was you who breathed life back into her,” the mother said. “God bless you,
Mr. President!”
“Just
call me Lee,” he said and after giving the girl a farewell kiss on the
forehead, handed her back to her parents, and with a farewell shake of the
mayor’s hands, and his sunshine smile to the crowd, took his leave, and headed
toward the Boeing747-200B and climbed up the steps, his Secret Service agents
following, but at a distance to allow for a great Public Relations view. At the
threshold he paused, turned, smiled, and waved. Before he could enter the
craft, however, the crowd, led by one of the crowd, joined in the pubic
rendition of one of the nation’s favorite anthems. As they sang ‘My eyes have
seen the Glory,’ Lee, pretty damn well humbled, bowed his head and held up his
hands to stop the singing.
“...The
glory is indeed the Lord’s, and yours,” he shouted. “And to all Americans who
believe in freedom. With God’s help and yours we will endure. God bless you
all. God bless America.”
Another
smile, and crossing his hands over his heart, he bowed his head, then entered
the plane and was out of sight.
Applause,
applause, applause.
Aboard
Seaview too.
“All
right, all right,” I said, “We’ll wait for Air Force One to leave, then
everyone back to work.”
“...The
‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’,” one of the reporters said, “known mostly as a
kind of anthem during Abe Lincoln’s administration, is surely a fitting
farewell to President Nelson-Crane, or as he’d like to be referred to, as ‘Just
call me Lee.”
The
plane’s engines roared to life and the president’s massive jet taxied to the
runway, stopped, awaiting clearance, and once given, took off. The cameras kept
it in view for as long as it was visible, the sunshine glinting on it in the
heavens.
“All
right,” Chip said, picking up a mike, “All hands, back to work.”
But
he knew, and I knew, that was going to be a problem in the celebratory mood.
“Admiral?”
Sparks announced, “videocall
for you. From Air Force One. Not secure.”
“Put
it on the monitor.”
Soon
there he was, Lee, at his desk in the mobile White House.
“The
switchboard at 1600 sent me a message from Seaview, and I don’t mean the time,”
he said sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Harry, but I had to go see things for
myself...”
“Oh
shit...no, son, I spoke in haste. I renege what I said, totally, though...damn
it, I was scared for you.”
“Me
too, but sometimes you just gotta’ do what you gotta’ do,” he smirked. “You okay? Really?”
“Well,
I think my heart fell all the way into hell when I saw you pull off your gloves
then your helmet when you tried to save that child, exposing yourself to what I
believed would be a lethal dose of radiation and super bugs.”
“Well,
it’s okay now...thank God that terrorist group didn’t have any plutonium or bio
hazard to concoct their bomb...still, four souls lost, and seventeen injured,
some seriously, I’m told...I hope our
little victory with the girl and her dog won’t erase that fact.”
“You’re
a good man, son...by the way, the press has renamed you.”
“Now
what?”
“They’re
simply repeating the name you gave yourself. From now on you might have to get
used to it instead of Mr. President... Mr. Just Call Me Lee.”
“Oh
gawd,” he laughed. “I suppose I should have been more careful...I’m not too
good with all this praise...wish I could be aboard Seaview where you and Chip
could put me in my place when it gets to be too much.”
“Still
can,” Chip said, “thanks to you, Crewman Walker’s been given permission to join
his shipmates. The Navy is not going to be too happy about that.”
“Well,
I’ll take any guff. Have an extra drink on me, Chip. I think I may have put you
and everyone through a bit much today.”
“No
kidding.”
Just
then one of the craft’s stewards approached, “Excuse me, Mr. President, but the
surgeon general called and has advised you clean your eyeball and socket. I’ve
taken the liberty of placing one of your extra eyepatches on the sink next to
the disinfecting agent.”
“Thanks...I
can feel the tissues itching...well, Harry, duty calls...can’t get the surgeon
general riled. He’s worse than my mom...speaking of which, she’s coming to
visit me for awhile...think of it, Chip, she might
not be able to bake as well as your mom or Cookie, but she sure can make good
pancakes, not that fancy French stuff the White House chef tries to force down
my throat...well, ‘JCML’ out,” he smirked, ending the call.
“JCML?”
Riley muttered, confused.
“Just
Call Me Lee!” I, Chip, and half of the crew called out, bemused.
“Well,
I’d better get back to work on my calculations,” I said, and with a more
cheerful heart than I’d had for some time, headed to my cabin.
I’ll
figure something out for my boy. I promise.
~***~