Disclaimers (aka all the things I don't own about this chapter): POTO. House of Cards, The White House, Florence & The Machine, The Dog Days Are Over, The National Guard, FEMA, Washington D.C... ya get it lol OH! and if you want to know which cover of Dog Days Are Over is in my head for this chapter look up a group called "Faux Paz" - who I also do not own haha
Wanted to give a shoutout to Capenoires & Cotesgate & "Guest" for reviewing so many chapters as they either read or reread this fic over the last few weeks. It was so much fun to read all that you had to say and really encouraged me to write this. Thank you for taking so much time to review as you went along. And for those who have been with me this long and continue to review on an update-by-update pace, you know I love you. Thank you for your support. It brings me so much joy to know you love this story
Warning: There's some language in this chapter. Sometimes saying so-and-so "swore" just doesn't cut it.
Chapter Thirty-Six
President Erik Underwood could not remember if he had ever experienced a hurricane first-hand. Certainly, they had come and gone from Washington DC's shores over time. It was an inland port city after all and such things were bound to repeat themselves in time with or without global warming as a factor. However, the reality that one of the strongest storms on local record was churning its way up from the Caribbean could not be ignored. It had already been an active season and meteorologists were hoping for a quiet September, but it was not to be. Every storm thus far had hit the typical places such as the coast on the Gulf of Mexico, Florida, and the Carolina's. While some had been the same strength as what currently spun off the coast of the capital, those cities were better equipped. The converted swamp that was the District of Columbia was far from prepared. The storm was barely a Catagory 3 in strength, but the capital was about to take a hard hit. And as fate or curse would have it, the same of the storm just so happened to be Kristine.
"Last reports said it was already giving hell to the Outer Banks." Barnes barked in between bites at dinner, "Hatteras - that lighthouse they moved way back when we were kids, do you remember? - yeah well it's currently slamming Hatteras."
"I hope they're okay," Christine said quietly, her eyes kept down.
"They're coastal people, Christine," Erik responded kindly, "To my understanding, a quick-moving Category 3 is nothing to them."
"But weren't they told to evacuate?" she asked him, worry still in her eyes.
"They're like islanders out there." Meg said as she looked at the updates from her phone, "Like Floridians but not as connected to the mainland so they do their own thing. I hear they have hurricane parties. Doesn't that sound like crazy fun? Maybe we should have one!"
"There will be no parties in the private wing of the executive mansion, Barnes," Erik said with a heavy sigh. "Really, are you certain your mother won't be here until tomorrow morning?"
"Don't be so quick to get rid of me." Barnes beamed at him with a sly smile, "I know you'll miss me."
The laugh that escaped him was scarcely funny.
"Annapolis is going to be hit too." Christine said quietly before looking up to her friend, "You could still stay here. It would be safer, wouldn't it Erik?"
Before Erik could start a perfect political speech to both comforted his fiancé while equally deterring the reporter, Meg chimed in for him.
"Mom believes her house is safer than the White House. Isn't that funny? Just like last year in the snowstorm, she had to come down in that gas-guzzling Hummer of hers to pick me up. Well, that and she has no faith in the government. No offense, Mr President."
"That's something she and I can agree on." Underwood responded, "Especially when it comes to that toad of a House speaker."
"But what about flooding?" Christine asked quietly.
"Mom lives on a hill. Did I tell you she even got bullet-proof windows on the first floor? I don't know what she's prepping for but she lives in a small fort. Look, physically, I'll be fine. Mentally? Well, that's when you just have to be sure to answer all my texts because you know the woman drives me crazy."
"Of course," Christine mumbled as she continued to push food around her plate.
Ironically, it had been Erik to suggest that Barnes spend the evening with Christine before departing from the city with the rest of the evacuees. Christine had been thrilled that he would ever warm up to such a thing. He even allowed the cocker spaniel to come over. The thing was currently sleeping on one of the couches. He hated to be sharing his furniture with an animal but when Christine looked back at him with awful sad eyes, he found it too hard to go against her wishes. When he relented, she gave him such a miraculous smile. "Can you play some of the songs I've been working on later for Meg?" she had asked, "I think she would like them."
How would he ever be able to reckon with himself when she looked at him like that? Her light makeup was faded from her time at work, her hair had less bounce in it, but her blue eyes sparkled in such a way that made the breath catch in Erik's throat. Nothing affected him as Christine did and he was certain that if he did not check himself that she would be the end of his resolve. Once he found his balance again, he nodded and told her shortly that he would agree to play only the songs that exemplified her voice and nothing that brought serious attention to his skills as a pianist.
"It will be hard to share a duet with you that doesn't bring attention to your talent," she said with a kind smirk. That particular expression was something he only noticed her doing recently. The effect it had on him made his stomach twist in an almost pleasant way.
He returned the smirk in his own way, "Then perhaps you should sing without any accompaniment and I'll tell you what notes are less than satisfactory."
Christine smiled but her eyes sparkled as she was now dueling in the manner he liked to play. With a shrug, the young woman turned her attention back to the dog who was all too happy to receive the physical interaction of Christine's long slender hands as they caressed the droopy ears, "You know what I would like. We'll see if you do it."
And then Barnes came out of the washroom and the game was unceremoniously ended. Barnes really did have a curious timing about her. There was a never-ending annoyance about it.
Later in the evening, Christine smiled broadly as she coaxed Erik to sit at the piano bench. He tried to remember if she had ever done such a thing just to get him to sit down and play for her. He was certain that she had not. The weight of Barnes' curious and fascinated eyes was not lost on him either. This was a show. Christine wanted him to share a part of himself with her closest friend. Was this another test? It felt like it. There was a feeling of the great wall that had to be overcome to make a statement during his marriage proposal. Christine had to have known that he wanted to share very little of his personal talents with the reporter and yet there she was wanted to wear him down.
But that smile. God, it broke him. He sat down like the imbecile he was and ripped his eyes away from hers just to try and gain some composure. Christine asked about a few songs and if her choices would be alright to sing. That was smart of her. Even as she was clearly testing him, she had enough respect for him to ask what he would allow her to sing in front of someone outside the two of them. Some of the songs she suggested he approved of whereas others he suggested other choices. Christine did not fight him. Or, perhaps she did fight him. That same lovely smile graced her features and he found it harder to look away. Something about how Barnes created a lightheartedness in Christine was captivating. Even if her smile wasn't true for him, he basked in it as if it were.
Was this what true madness was like? There had been times in his past where he had been so angry he had not remembered everything that had happened. It was as if pure unadulterated instinct drove him and whenever he woke from that state, nations crumbled in his wake. But this was different. He was wide awake and unsure of his steps. It was awful. It was sickening. Part of him wanted to throw Christine's pretty smiles back in her face, but the idea of seeing tears in her eyes made him want to harm himself just to keep them away. This was madness. It had to be.
Barnes listened as if she had taken several prescriptions that should have never been within her reach. Good, Erik thought, finally she shuts up. Christine's voice, hardly trained a year, brought the reporter to silence. That was power. That was perfection. Well, perhaps not quite perfection…yet. Seeing such a reaction from Barnes allowed Erik to take a moment to be reminded that most on the earth would never know the true beauty that was Christine's voice. Walker's funeral was little of what all she had in her. That was pure stress and expectation. Her throat had been dry and her breath had quivered. The passion was there, but there was still the block of too many ears and too many memories clouding her ability. Here, with her beloved friend and… teacher, Christine soared like seldom before. Almost. For there were moments where even Erik was brought to stillness by the voice he created. His true compliments were few. There was still a sense of business to teaching, but in rare moments the power of the sheer art of music threatened to hold his heart into submission and it was necessary to exhilarating threat whenever it came.
After another song ended Christine took a breath and asked, "So what did you think?"
Barnes, who was dulled out on the nearby couch with her dog wrapped up in her arms and tears in her eyes was still without words. Good.
"As if she could give you any sort of proper critique." Erik scoffed.
"I was asking you," Christine bit back then turned to her friend, "but I would like to know what you thought, Meg. Have I gotten better?"
"Fucking Christ, Chris!" Meg stood with the dog still smashed in her arms, "Are you seriously asking me-? How do you act like a human all day and don't even talk much about all this and then show up with a voice like that? Fuck."
"Ask a commoner for a critique. Get a commoner response." Erik muttered judgement of her language dripped from his tone.
"I mean…" Christine started sheepishly, "There's so much to do during the day and these lessons and just us, you know?"
"But like can you even sing the stupid stuff anymore?" Meg asked as she put the animal down only for it to pop back up on the couch.
"What do you mean?" Christine asked cautiously.
"Like - I don't know - like what we used to back when we were living together?"
"Christine is more than capable of singing whatever drivel you listen to, Barnes," Erik responded with crossed arms and a visible arched eyebrow.
Christine looked back at Erik with a challenge in her eyes. Or was that anger? She left her spot at the curve of the piano and went over to the animal to pet it.
"Don't tell my maestro, Cloe, but I actually like some of the drivel."
"Ha!" Meg chimed in.
"It's not all bad," she continued to speak to the dog as her friend laughed.
"Sing Florence, Chris! The last time I heard you sing that was last year and we blew out our voices and got drunk. Do you remember?"
"After the Crusade?" Christine covered her forehead with her hand, "Yuck how could I forget?"
"You texted me during this state of intoxication," Erik commented without any sort of amusement in his tone.
"How could I forget," Christine stated as she unceremoniously threw herself to lay on her back next to the dog on the couch. The dog responded by licking her forehead. Christine giggled in response. Then, however, and more unexpectedly, she began to sing something Erik had never heard before.
Happiness hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck, still, no turning back
She hid under corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it, she fled
With every bubble, she sank with a drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink
Erik watched as Christine's eyes closed. Meg came to sit back down and scooped the dog back into her arms. She too closed her eyes. The two of them seemed to be sharing an experience. It was like being on the outside of a place that wasn't his and looking into a memory. Each of the women shared a simple look of bliss, a remnant of the rare times when Christine could simply be instead of feeling the need to be anything in particular. Erik found himself unable to look away.
The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run
The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses?
Cause here they come
Christine ended the phrase and laughed softly to herself. Her friend responded in like.
"There's the Chris I know."
"A better Chris, I hope."
"Oh my god, yes so much better. But still you. I liked the way you sang it slower. That was different but cool."
The women giggled again and Erik felt as if he was peering in on too much. He cleared his throat and stood which caused all three on the couch to look up at him. Christine's cheeks grew red and she sat up on the couch. Erik waved his hand, "No need to stiffen for me." He looked back at her with softer eyes, "You did well tonight."
The redness in her cheeks seemed to grow…or was that his eyes after a long day of preparations with the National Guard and D.C. Mayor?
"Even on the drivel?" Christine asked with a hint of sly playfulness under her tone.
"There is little you could sing that would not be beautiful, Christine," he responded warmly which caused Christine to smile softly to herself.
Meg's eyes popped open to look at him with a rather idiotic grin. The reaction caused Erik to stiffen. Meg's grin only got wider. Her knowing smile made him want to vomit. She didn't know anything. What was she even really doing there anyway? Was she trying to ruin Christine's lessons and some of the few precious moments that Erik got to spend alone with his student? But Christine was more than that. He knew it. Barnes knew it. But then he wondered what Christine thought? Asking her would be ludicrous. It would be better just to leave them.
"Farewell, Barnes." Erik countered as he walked to his room, "I have full faith you'll be back here in less than a week to disrupt my peace."
"You bet," she continued to smile but Erik was done looking in her direction.
"Will we not see you tomorrow morning either?" Christine asked innocently.
"I don't see why you would need to."
"I thought everything would be shut down? The outer bands of the storm are supposed to start showing up before noon."
"Work never ends for me." Erik said casually, "You know that."
Christine sat up with new alertness, "But will you be back here before it hits?"
Erik was quiet. Why was she acting like this? He saw as Meg reached over the dog and took Christine's hand.
"He'll be with you or you'll be coming with me."
Christine looked back to her friend, "No I…I'll stay here. I wish you would too."
"Chris," Barnes whispered kindly, "I'll come back. You know I will, okay?"
"I know I just…I just hate this. And to think of those poor people who are getting hit right now…"
"Chris, chica, look at me, will ya?" Barnes waited for Christine to do so, "This isn't like what happened before, okay? And you can't make choices for other people who don't evacuate."
"But what if they can't? What if they were like…" Christine went quiet.
"Things are different now. People had the time to get out. And Erik told us at dinner about the busses that took the homeless and impoverished people out of anywhere that would see significant flooding, remember? C'mon, you don't need to worry like this."
"Christine?" Erik asked making the two women look up, "Are you so worried? I could have had you evacuated if you had only told me. I've told you we're safe here."
Christine was quiet which caused Meg to frown.
"If she had wanted to leave you she would be going with me," Barnes said bitterly.
"Meg!" Christine hissed.
The reporter turned back to her friend, "I know that's what it is and that's okay. And I know you want us to stay close because you don't like me not being around. But you know I'll have my phone with me and my mom - crazy as she is - is alone right now. You're not going to lose either of us."
Erik saw Christine's shoulder shake as she whispered, "I'd like to go to bed now."
"Yeah, we should all get some sleep," Meg said as she picked up her animal who was already completely asleep. "I'm not sure how you're gonna fit on the bed, Chris. Cloe takes up way too much room."
"That animal is not taking Christine's bed from her." Erik retaliated.
Christine smiled, but there was still sadness behind her eyes, "Once the three of us all crammed into your twin. I think we'll be fine in a queen." She walked quietly over to her bedroom door before looking at Erik who was still frozen in front of his own door. "Goodnight, Erik."
"Goodnight, dearest," he whispered so that only she could hear it.
Christine gave a wink of a smile before going into her room. Meg began to follow her in but stopped to look back at him. The dog was still scooped up into her arms like an odd hairy blanket.
"If she decides to tell you what happened, that's up to her. But you had better be there with her tomorrow. Handle the cleanup once the storm has passed."
Before Erik could reply, Barnes had shut the door between them.
Throughout the night, Underwood continued to check the status of the hurricane. The eye had never touched land and with it being back over the arm gulf stream of the Atlantic overnight, it regained any composure lost from its brush with the outer islands. The storm was slow, but steady and still heading directly towards the capital. Most government officials had left as the evacuation had recommended they do. Underwood had considered leaving with them, but when he found out that the White House was fortified to withstand a Category 5 winds and that flooding would not be projected to reach the lawn he decided it would be best to stay. He considered the cost of him having to fly back in and the further strain it would be on the financial efforts of the cleanup. President's past had always made a motion to visit places of destruction in a time of crisis and what governor's complained about was the cost of the visit. By staying where he wanted, Erik was eliminating the strain. Of course, had also been criticized as a hypocrite for staying after working with the D.C. mayor to enact an evacuation notice, but it was easy to combat that when he brought up the fortifications of the White House.
Since the storm had taken an unexpected turn away from Florida only days before, Erik's days were filled with preparing for a direct hit of Kristine. He seemed to have failed to keep in mind his duty to his first Christine. She was afraid, that much was clear, but he could not figure out why. The storm was terrifying, sure, but what made her care so much about the choices of others? He had sent busses to the areas that would flood in the city and had the governor's of Maryland and Virginia do the same with those living on the coast. Many could afford to leave by car and did as much. Every available effort had been made. Why was Christine so concerned?
Fortunately for Erik, he did not have to wait long for an answer. At three minutes past two in the morning, Erik caught the sound of water being heated in the kitchen. Straightening his wrinkled shirt and adjusting the parts that had been freed from having once been tucked into his pants hours earlier, Erik quietly made his way out of his bedroom. Christine was staring intently at the kettle and only seemed to notice what was going on around her when the steam began to scream. Startled, she removed the kettle and poured the water into what he understood to be her favorite mug. The faint smell of chamomile rose with the steam.
"I didn't wake you, did I?" Christine asked quietly.
"I wasn't asleep," Erik commented.
"Do you ever?" Christine asked with a weary smile.
"Everyone sleeps, Christine."
"You're not everyone." For a moment, they shared a kind of connected eye contact. Christine broke it to sit at the breakfast bar. "I should have made enough water for two."
"Think nothing of it," Erik brushed off as he looked at the stood across from her, "May I sit with you?"
"If you can spare the time," Christine said sadly.
Erik sat down carefully and spoke slowly, "Won't you tell me what is the matter?"
Christine winced as she looked at her tea, "Have you ever lived through a hurricane, Erik?"
"Not many directly strike New York or D.C.," he said casually, "I've experienced what's left of the storms but nothing direct. I prefer to avoid them when I can so that I can acquire applicable funding to fix what is left behind."
"Then you don't know, do you?" Christine looked up at him only to look away and out of the nearby window, "Most everyone around here doesn't really know what it's like to get caught in one." She looked at him earnestly, "The people are not taking this seriously enough. Not enough people have evacuated from the Southeast and you know it."
Erik straightened on the stool, "We cannot force them to go."
"Many of them are poor. They're probably worried about their homes and what will happen if they leave. They need to be convinced that after the storm their homes won't be ransacked and gentrified if they survive at all."
"That is why the National Guard is on standby." Erik bristled a little. He had been ensuring the very thing he spoke of all day and did not enjoy repeating himself. "As far as the gentrification is concerned, that is a local issue, not a federal one. The poor will either have taken out the proper insurance or suffer the loss."
"You're so removed from them." She said quietly as pain dripped from her tone, "You know not everyone can afford what you're implying. Some people live in government-assisted places and even then they can't trust that there will be funding to give them a place to live if the buildings are damaged beyond repair."
"Once again, this is a local issue. I combat federal issues. I have ensured proper funding of FEMA at the beginning of the year and have called the National Guard. That is my job. And I have done more than that alone in the last forty-eight hours."
"Erik," Christine went on with even more fervor, "You know a lot of the people I'm talking about don't believe that the guard or the local government will protect them. And you know there are reasons behind that. Many of them don't even call the police in fear that they might be blamed for something they didn't commit. You know this, Erik."
Underwood sighed, "I've done all I can-"
"Then maybe I should do something!"
"And that would be? We have limited time."
"Let me go down there. Maybe I can talk to them. Maybe they'll believe me. Can you get some school buses or something to take people out? We still have…we still have enough time to get people to higher ground. There's a shelter being set up near Howard, isn't there? It would be easy to take people there. No one will be out. It would be quick."
"You want to go to the Southeast and try to get people to leave their homes even after all the efforts I've made with the mayor?"
"Yes!" She stood, "Yes, I do! People will die if we don't do anything. I've got to do something. Please, Erik. Help me do something."
Erik's tone was still cold, "If this was such a priority for you, why didn't you say anything about it earlier?"
"I hoped people would leave, but from what I'm seeing too many of them aren't. Maybe I can make them understand. It isn't safe."
"And if they're not going to listen to the government - to me - what makes you think that they are going to pay any mind to you?" he asked with a fluid motion towards her.
Taking the challenge she straightened up and stared at him through thin eyes, "I'm not the government. And my level of income wasn't far from them for most of my life. Let me talk to them and see if I can change their minds."
Erik crossed his arms over his chest, "So you're not of the government but you're going to try and make them believe in the government?"
"Yes."
Erik sighed a long sigh. Christine had not even sipped her tea. Had she meant to do this? What did it matter what games he apparently had taught her to play? She was playing them all too well - playing him all too well. However, despite it all, he believed in her. He believed in what she was trying to accomplish and he found that he could not deny her, despite the anger he still felt at not being able to fix this himself. It was not so much that he didn't care about the poor, it was that he did everything he could to not become like them. Helping others took money and it was easier to think of numbers instead of the people that were connected to them. Why did Christine have to have such passion for humanity about her? Erik sighed in defeat.
"I'm about to wake up some very cranky people, Christine."
She looked up at him with a new level of hope in her eyes.
"What should I do?" she asked.
"Be ready by six. Wear something you can easily move in and expect rain. We will have until ten to get as many people out as possible."
"We?"
"Yes. You're not going down there alone. I'm going to call in the National Guard and utilize their vehicles. This is going to be a long day."
"Thank you, Erik." She reached across the small tabletop and grasped his hand, "Thank you."
He looked down at the hand that held his own. His skin was buzzing from the touch. But he could spare no more thoughts on whatever he was feeling. It was time again to act.
By seven that morning, the outer bands of Kristine had already started to block out the sun. The clouds were thick and light grey and moved together in a cluttered mass towards the southwest. Every so often, a thin drop of rain would fall only to be swept up into the wind. There was a faint smell of salt in the air and the pressure continued to drop as a monster moved its way onto shore.
An unexpected storm of force herself, Christine stood before an apartment building that was primarily funded by the local government. The added cracks to the plaster over the bricks juxtaposed the young woman's clean but casual appearance. She stood with simple comfortable rain boots, dark slender jeans, and a loose burgundy v-neck t-shirt under a long pine green raincoat. Christine observed the graffiti on the sidewalk, and the nearby playground as the covered trucks that were brought in by the National Guard turned off their motors as they parked and blocked the nonexistent street traffic. Christine turned as she heard Underwood step up behind her with the captain of the guard and a representative from the Corp of Engineers who had also chosen to stay in the city for the rescue and rebuilding resources. The presidential motorcade was blocking the other side of the street. Clara and ten other agents stood nearby.
"The mayor said that if there was one place where you could find the most people in a small amount of time and distance, it would be here." Underwood said quietly, "She also said that this place has seen more robberies and murders than any other government-assisted living facility in the district. A preliminary sweep for our safety was completed thirty minutes ago. Nothing of significance was found."
Christine nodded and asked, "How high will the water come here?"
"To my understanding," the engineer said, "at this elevation, the water could come as high as the second floor and I would doubt that any of those higher windows make it through long in the wind."
"Should we move them out?" The Captain asked the President.
Erik looked to Christine who winced.
"I don't want anyone to feel forced… Do you think we've gotten anyone's attention yet? The sirens were off."
The front door banged open as a teenage girl dragged another smaller girl out by the arm. The smaller girl yelped as they came out the door to stand on the crumbling stoop.
"See!" The teenage girl said as she pointed at Christine, "I told you that was her!"
"Couldn't be," the smaller girl said, "Why would she be here?"
"And that's the President!" she was hopping and pointing and shaking the smaller girls arm, "That's President Underwood!"
"Hello," Christine waved almost timidly and both girls froze with big shocked eyes, "Are your parents around?"
"Oh. My. GOD!" The teenager yelped, "Ms First Lady ma'am, what are you doing here?"
"I…" Christine started and looked back and forth between the two girls, "I came to see if there was something I could say or do to get your families to a safer place for the storm."
"I wanted to go, but my mama said she wanted to stay." The teenager said then motioned to her friend, "And Jazzi's grandma's too old to go."
"Her hip hurts," Jazzi said quietly.
"Can you tell me your name?" Christine inquired as she stepped forward.
"I'm LaRashia, Ms First Lady," the girl said proudly.
"LaRashia," Christine repeated kindly.
"The First Lady said my name!" LaRashia said to her friend.
"I like your name." Christine smiled, "How old are you?"
"I'm thirteen. And Jazzi is ten."
"You two must be close friends."
"We're neighbors. Hey," LaRashia turned to Jazzi, "We should go get Mikey. He won't believe we met her if he doesn't see it."
"Bet he's still asleep," Jazzi snickered.
Christine persisted, "How many of you are still here?"
"Um." LaRashia paused, "Most of us. Why?"
The First Lady to-be swayed as she looked at the floors above her head. She then looked back at the girls, "Do you think that maybe I could speak with…everyone?"
"Everyone?!" LaRashia chirped, "That's a lot."
"I've got something I think will help," Underwood said quietly to Christine. A few seconds later every phone began to buzz.
Christine pulled her phone out.
"The emergency broadcast system," she said quietly with a smile.
Evacuation Notice: HURRICANE WARNING. All residents to evacuate Southeast quarter of Washington D.C. National Guard will escort those without transportation at no charge to Cardozo Education Campus for shelter. Emergency services will no longer be able to function by noon today. Mass flooding and high winds expected.
"The notice has been sent to everyone within flood-range," Underwood commented.
The teen pulled out a small flip phone and read the message herself. She then looked up to the entourage on the street. When she saw the police cars in front of the presidential limousine she winced.
"You came to get us, Ms First Lady?" she asked.
"If you would come, yes. I want you to be safe. This storm is going to be bad."
"I'm not going with no cops," she said with her arms crossed.
"Me neither!' Jazzi replied.
"Cops got my brother." LaRashia stated, "He didn't even do anything and they took him to jail."
Christine winced. Taking a breath, she stepped forward, "The cops are staying with me and the President. They are federal police. They don't come here. Erik brought in the National Guard to help escort anyone who wants to go."
"So we get to ride in those big trucks?" LaRashia asked skeptically.
"Yep," Christine smiled gently, "I'll take the police back with me."
LaRashia thought about what was said as her eyes went back and forth between the various vehicles in the street. Finally, she said, "Okay let me get mama."
"And Mikey, too?" Christine asked.
"Yeah, his cousin takes care of him. Don't know if he's awake yet. He works nights."
"Get as many people as you can." Christine said, "I want to speak with them, please."
LaRashia thought on it again then said, "If they get angry at me will you talk with them? I don't want to get in trouble again."
"Yes, yes, I promise."
"Okay then," LaRashia smiled back at her friend, "Let's go, Jazzi!"
The two girls ran inside and were heard yelling, "EVERYONE GET UP! PRESIDENT CAME FOR US!"
Before long, at least fifty people had come down from their apartments. Even more, were looking down from their windows to listen. Some others were walking over from other apartment complexes and nearby houses. Christine and Erik stood on the back of one of the covered trucks to be seen. The First Lady to-be had been handed a megaphone and told which button to press. Many people milled about and waited for something to happen. Some were taking pictures and selfies. With a breath to steady herself, Christine pulled the obtrusive megaphone up to her face and held it with both hands.
"Hello everyone," She began. People continued to murmur a little and so she repeated more confidently, "Hello, everyone, my name is Christine Gallagher and I'm to be the next First Lady of the United States. I…" She swayed a little as she looked out at skeptical faces, "I came out here because I heard that many of you were staying and I'm so worried about what this storm with do. When I was very young my father and I were too poor to get to safety in time before a hurricane and we were…" Christine looked down and seemed to speak through pain, "We were trapped in a flooded attic for four days." She looked back up and spoke more confidently, "I don't want that to happen to anyone else. Our President has worked with me to have the National Guard escort everyone willing to Cardozo High School to wait out the storm. There will be cots, blankets, bathrooms, food, water, and safe shelter for all who come. Once it is safe, everyone may come home."
"What about our homes?" A woman asked from the crowd, "What if there's nothing left when we get back? You gonna help us then?"
Others in the crowd nodded in agreement.
Christine looked to Erik who sighed and took the megaphone. The murmurs in the crowd continued.
"You know who I am." People in the crowd nodded and shrank a little at Underwoods abrasiveness, "FEMA is prepared to rebuild whatever is destroyed to the best of their abilities. What we cannot rebuild are people's lives."
"Rebuild what? Some nice place for rich people?" A man shouted, "Sounds like a new way to push us out!"
"The white man has always shoved our people around this city!" Another man yelled
And another voice shouted, "We built the buildings you live in and we'll work the ones you'll build to replace our homes cause you always wanted us out of sight!"
"We're staying!" A woman yelled.
Other people began to yell and some even started to walk away. Christine pulled the megaphone back to her.
"Wait! Please, wait," she shouted with an outstretched hand, "We can work on something to help you keep your homes. We'll keep the government facilities too! Right, Erik?"
"I…" Underwood swallowed as he looked from the crowd to his fiancé, "I will work with the mayor to see what can be done."
"Fuck the mayor!" Someone else yelled.
"Mayor never gave a shit about us!"
"Look, everyone," Christine put her hands up again, "I'm not a politician. I'm not here to take anything away from you. You're right. You have been pushed around. And I know that gentrification is scary. I don't want you to lose your homes and I especially do not want you to lose your lives. Erik and I stayed back to help rebuild this city once the storm has passed. It's our home too. If you would only let us take you somewhere safe for the time being. We'll return you home. I won't let anyone take it away from you. You deserve better. You're a part of our city just like we are. Please," Christine blinked back a tear, "Evacuate to safety. Think of your children. Don't let them be caught like I was. No one came to try and help me. I don't want the same for you."
People continued to murmur. Underwood sighed and removed Christine's finger from the amplification trigger. She looked up to him as he spoke quietly.
"You tried, dearest. As did I."
Christine looked up to Erik with more tears in her eyes. She then looked out at all the people around her. Everyone was in such great danger but there would be no forcing all of them to leave. There was a movement in the crowd as people began to move out of the way for someone small. Christine recognized as Jazzi came to stand before the truck she stood on. Not wanting to look down at the girl, Christine stepped down from the truck and kneeled to her level.
"Ms First Lady?" Jazzi asked timidly, "My grandma said she'd come. But she needs help getting down the stairs. The elevator's been broke for a long time."
A tear fell from Christine's eye as she nodded, "Yes, yes I'm sure we could help her down. But can you do something even more important? Can you pack some clothes for both you and her so that you can be comfortable while you're gone? Maybe you have some favorite toys? You should bring those too. But you have to hurry okay?"
Jazzi nodded and ran off through the crowd and up the steps. Christine looked to the Captain who stood next to the truck. He nodded and began to make the order for two troops to follow the girl.
"Hey!" A woman began to walk her way through the crowd, "My mom needs help too. We live two blocks from here."
Someone else shouted, "My sister has a baby. She should go."
Others began to speak up as well. Christine looked to the Captain. He nodded and she handed him the megaphone so that he could start to organize the troops on where to stand and who to assist. More of the crowd began to disperse back to their homes and Christine silently prayed that all of them would return to leave. A middle-aged man approached them. A muscular grey dog with white around its snout pulled at a thick collar around its neck held by an old lead clasped in the man's hand. The dog looked around sleepily and sniffed up at Christine.
"What a nice dog you have," Christine said, "May I pet her?"
"Yeah, she likes the ladies," the man replied.
Christine knelt to softly run her hand behind the dogs' ears. The dog seemed to smile as she panted.
"This is Blue Girl. She can't swim, ma'am." Christine winced as she listened to this new problem she had not even thought of. The man continued, "And I can't go to the shelter without her. A lot of us have dogs. My wife left me last year and my son can't take in another dog at his place. Blue's all I got."
Christine nodded and looked to the aids around her, "Maybe we could call some shelters? Just for a few days or some rescue groups?"
"Don't want my dog in a shelter." He said, "She's a pit and they don't like them there."
"Erik," Christine straightened up, "Is there any way the animals could go to Cardozo? Maybe in a classroom or in crates?"
Underwood looked back to one of the aids behind them in the truck, "Make some calls. Find a way for people to be able to keep their pets."
The aid nodded and went to his phone. Christine looked back at the man.
"Thank you, ma'am. I couldn't leave her."
"Now you don't have to," Christine said, "Go pack up and meet back here, okay? Please tell anyone else with a pet to evacuate with them. We'll figure something out."
Christine then went to the Captain, "Please, be sure that once they arrive that everyone's names are taken down and that we know their addresses. Not everyone could be on the record but they need to be counted so that they can be returned safely. Note if they're living together and if they have pets."
Rain began to fall and Christine drew her hood up over her head. It did little good as the wind was beginning to pick up. Christine peered through the rain and looked down the street as the trucks began to spread out up and down the area. One pulled up next to where she was to be right in front of the complex. Just then, Jazzi came out of the door with a jacket on. She held the door open as two troops carried a chair with an elderly woman holding a pocketbook sitting in it. Once through the door, another soldier followed carrying a bag. The woman was taken into the truck but before Jazzi followed she went over to Christine.
"Come meet my grandma, k?"
Christine nodded just as LaRashia bolted out the front door with her mother behind her.
"That's her, mama! That's the First Lady!"
Without meaning to, Christine began to help people up into the truck as they came out of the building. Sometimes she carried bags. Other times she helped children leap up. As the truck began to fill, more people reached out to shake her hand. Some asked for photos and while she would normally feel really awkward taking that many photos, she obliged everyone so long as the act didn't get in the way of time. Finally, before the truck was ready to pull out, LaRashia pulled at her.
"You're not gonna kick us out for real are ya?" she asked, "You wouldn't do that right?"
"Don't listen to her." An older teen boy said from the back, "You don't know her."
"Shut it, Mikey!" LaRashia barked before looking back to Christine, "You won't take our homes away, right?"
"I'll do whatever I can. Whatever I can. I promise. With all my heart, I promise."
"See I told you, Mikey!"
"I have to go now," Christine said, "Thank you for listening to me."
"You're pretty. I like you. Too pretty for the President."
"Rashia, hush up!" her mother said, "I'm sorry 'bout her big mouth."
Christine smiled and shook her head, "It's okay. Thank you, LaRashia. You're very pretty too. And I don't think I'll tell my fiancé what you said about him." She winked and added, "Be safe."
The little girl nodded and Christine waved on her way out of the truck.
By midday, Christine found herself holding a now fully-grown Simba in her arms. On their way back from the southeast, Christine had Erik direct the motorcade to his house to pick up the two cats. It had not been the first time they had visited the White House. Twice they had come to spend a week for photo-ops. Once their time had been spent, they went back to their home where they could roam free from everything else that plagued the traditional first-family. It's not as if they wouldn't have been safe through the hurricane at Erik's house - he had hired someone to look after both of them after all - it was more that Christine wanted them in the White House instead.
Roach had already disappeared - as was customary for him to do - and Simba would likely join him soon as the thunder from outside was beginning to make his claws extend into Christine's arms. Once Simba hoped away into Erik's open room, Christine went to the large window that overlooked the back lawn. The rain continued to pelt the window and for the first time she could remember, she could actually hear the wind running around the corners of the building outside. The clouds were a dark grey and she could only occasionally see a break in the rain and wind to see up to how the clouds swirled around. The power had blinked more than a few times until it finally shut out.
Christine gasped and looked away from the window. Erik was sitting on one of the couches.
"The generator will be on in a few seconds," he mumbled as he continued to read a newspaper from his tablet.
Just as he had said, the lights came back on as if nothing had happened. Christine moved to the couch opposite Erik.
"Erik?"
"Yes?" he responded in voice, but his eyes were still on the tablet.
"Do you think many of them are still down there?"
He sighed, "We won't know until tomorrow, Christine. You did more than you were expected to do today."
"I don't care." Christine stood and looked back out of the window, "If I had thought about this more I could have done more. Of course, they wouldn't trust us. What they said was right. Their ancestors have been forcibly moved around all over the city. Their concerns are legitimate."
"Then I trust that once the damage has been properly assessed that you will be the first one to call a force together in the community to ensure that everyone gets a roof over their head again. Find the right funding and everyone will have an even better roof than they had before. You know what to let not happen. I imagine all you would need to do is tweet about it and everyone from everywhere would come to fight injustice." Erik leaned back and stared at the ceiling in a tired way that Christine had seldom seen, "Not even I have that power."
Christine sighed in response.
"Sit down, dearest," he said warily, "Would you like to see the article The Harold has already put out about you from this morning? Everyone is talking about it. 'Christine verses Kristine,' is the titled."
Christine crossed her arms, "I thought we weren't going to tell anyone…?"
"You were the one taking all the pictures." He laughed softly, "And what we both didn't know was that a photographer was down there trying to get his father to evacuate. It was the man with the dog. The photographer got a picture of you two when he saw his father talking to you. So many photos of you with children and that dog are all over the internet now. It's the very thing people want to see."
"I don't want to be recognized for this." Christine clipped back just as lightening was quickly followed by thunder, "People needed help. I could help them. That was it."
Erik looked over to her, "You are perfect, you know that?"
"I am not," she muttered looked away.
"Well, the public thinks you are. That's all that matters."
She turned her attention back to him, "Then why would you say that?"
"Why would I not?"
A clap of thunder shook bullet-proof windows.
"That sounded like it was right above us," Christine whispered as she looked up and around the room.
Erik shrugged, "It very well may have been."
Christine crossed her arms and sat down again.
"I hate hurricane's," she said quietly.
"Christine," Erik began slowly, "I had no idea that had happened to you."
She shrugged, "Why would you? It's not like it's publicized. And it's not like I ever needed to bring it up."
"You told Barnes."
She laughed a little, "Well of course I told, Meg. You have to stop being so surprised about that."
"God, you even sound like her sometimes."
"I like her after all," she said with a sly smile.
"Don't I know it." After a moment, he continued, "Christine… Is there anything you would like to tell me? You do not have to, however, I would like to bridge the notion that you might trust me enough to tell me what happened."
At first, she sighed. Then she waited. Finally, Christine spoke quietly, "I try not to think about it. It was our first summer out since my mom died. We were playing at a resort near Wilmington, North Carolina. His car was in the shop so we got a ride with one of the hotel workers who lived farther inland. The flooding wasn't supposed to be as bad as it was. Once they had decided to leave it was too dark and the car had already been flooded. It was a one-story house. We went to the attic." She paused to steady her breathing before she continued, "The water came up to my chest and the sound was…awful. Running water everywhere and the wind so loud outside. There was nothing we could do. We were like that for days just waiting for someone to see us from the air. His house was in the middle of pine trees so it was hard. We were on top of the roof with little food and water. Just waiting. No one came. It took four days for the water to go down far enough for us to wade out to the street."
Erik did not speak immediately. He was not sure what to say. Her name drifted from his lips, "Christine…"
"You know," she looked out of the window as she continued, "You see those pictures and videos of people wading through floodwaters or sitting on roofs, but it's like it's not real. It's like it's a movie or something. The people who die turn into statistics. People forget their names. The cities rebuild. That's it. Dad and I moved on. I eventually stopped having nightmares. And that was really it."
Another clap of thunder and Erik found himself sitting before Christine. He reached out for her hand and the action seemed to pull her from her far-off thoughts.
"Just when I begin to think I know you, I come to find there will never be enough to know."
"I'm just me, Erik. Everyone has a wild story or two."
"You're not everyone." He said seriously to draw the words she had said to him that morning back to her.
Christine smiled somewhat only to wince when another rumble of thunder rolled through. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. He returned her gesture by encircling her shoulders with his arm. For a few moments, they simply breathed until Christine spoke, "What is it about us and storms?"
Having an idea of what she meant with how close they were he responded in kind, "We are a force in itself. Like recognizes like."
"If that's how you see it."
"I do,"
She sighed.
"Then I guess it's okay to stay like this. For a little longer anyway."
"Yes, yes," he said wistfully as he joined her in watching the storm outside until it had passed.
Hurricane Kristine eventually made its way inland and reached Washington D.C. as a Category 2 storm. In the coming weeks, the Capital saw one of the largest cleanup efforts in its history. Throughout it all, Christine continued to work with local community members to ensure that those who evacuated from the southeast quarter - as well as other places in the city - had a home to return to. While most of this was done remotely through donations and federal funding, Christine did eventually go back to see Jazzi, LaRashia and their families for a day. Total deaths of the storm in D.C. proper were five. It was understood that without Christine's efforts, the numbers may have been upwards of fifty if not closer to over a hundred. When praised for her efforts, she merely said, "I am not a savior. I just listened and stayed true to my word. I think that's something we all should be able to do."
Disclaimer part II: These are some of the real issues that DC (and many other urban areas) face all the time. And if you're not familiar with how race has shaped Washington DC I highly suggest reading up on that from a credible source. The storm Christine survived through was based on Fran, Floyd and Florence - all three hit Wilmington NC and there were devastating effects. I also have personal experiences with each one as a native North Carolinian. After each storm, more government housing closed its doors due to there not being enough funding to save them. Many of these places were eventually rebuilt as luxury condos and apartments. Such measures left many people homeless. I've said from the beginning that this story isn't out to make any political statements and I still feel true to that. People honestly listening and helping people is not political statement. It's just human decency.
Let me know what you think?