CHAPTER 7
January 22
12:24 PM. EST. The Oval Office
Seven people. He'd been sitting here for nearly three hours and he had only seven names and a marginful of doodles to show for it. Time to prioritize.
"Chief of Staff," he said, "That's what I need first."
He looked back at his list. Morrison? No. Kelley? Definitely no. No, no, no, no, no. None of them. He didn't trust any of them enough. He'd surrounded himself with imbeciles during his political career.
What about the people here already? He definitely wanted to keep Charlie, if he would stay, that was. He liked the kid. And the assistants. But he needed a cabinet and a senior staff. People with experience and skill. The FBI would probably be able to help him. He got up, wincing as his knees creaked, and went out to Debbie's desk to make a phone call.
Twenty minutes later the Office was overflowing with boxes and boxes of candidates. Two interns continued coming in carrying more boxes as big as they were. Fryer briefly considered hiding under the couch, then decided it would be a bad thing for these young people to see the Commander-In-Chief and leader of their nation afraid of cardboard boxes.
"Last one sir." One of the interns said, dropping a box dangerously close to Fryer's foot.
"Thank you." He said as they left. He was trapped by a wall of boxes and manila folders. Tripping over one and scattering its contents, he found his way back to the chair and began his quest.
Another hour went by. His stomach was growling. Were you allowed to eat in the Oval Office? He wanted food, but didn't want to stop what he was doing. He'd already gotten through seven of the fifty-six cartons of potential candidates, dividing every file into either the Yes, No, or Maybe pile. The Maybe pile was by far the largest, followed by No, with Yes lagging behind with a grand total of three folders. He thought for a second, then got up and went down to the Mess.
He came back half an hour later to see Debbie standing in the middle of the insanity. "I'm sorry, sir," she said as he came in, "But there's a phone call for you."
"Who?"
"Your daughter Christina."
He started to head for her desk but she held him back. "The phone is over there." She said, pointing at the President's desk.
"I'll use yours, it's already off the hook."
"Sir—"
She didn't finish. Fryer wasn't sure if she could, but he knew what she meant. He couldn't avoid it forever. But it had been only two days.
"I'll take it on your phone."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
Fryer walked out to her desk. Charlie was sitting at his own desk, typing something. He stood when Fryer came out. Fryer waved him down, then picked up the phone. "Hi, sweetie."
"Dad!" Tina exclaimed, "I can come on Friday!"
"I can't wait." He said, emotion creeping into his voice. He missed her so much right now. He wasn't sure he could wait almost another week.
"How is everything?" Tina asked. "I mean, we've been watching the news here, but I've been so worried about you. And Mr. Harris. Have you heard from him yet?"
"No." he said, feeling his stomach clench. James Harris was an assistant to the Secretary of Transportation and had been friends with Fryer and Tina since Tina was a baby.
"I'm sure we will." She said, but her voice was quavering. "Daddy, I have to go. I promise I'll call again before I come."
"I love you, Tina."
"Love you too. Bye."
They both hung up. Fryer sighed and took off his glasses. Polishing them on his shirt, he went back to the crate he'd been working on.
2:30 PM. EST. Red Cross tent. Capitol building rubble.
Fiona had to go back to school. She didn't want to leave but John insisted that she go. It had been two days, he said, they weren't going to find anyone else alive. There was nothing else she could do here and it was time for her to go back to Long Island.
She put on her hat and slung her bag over her shoulder. Now she had to catch a bus to catch a train to catch a plane home. Just the thought of all that traveling made her head spin. Plus, she was reluctant to leave before she could see CJ. She'd tried to go to the hospital but she'd been in Search and Rescue, then Recovery. She'd had no time. She'd also seen in the paper how difficult it was to get in. one the front page of John's paper this morning there had been a picture of a woman being hauled out of the hospital. The caption underneath said that she was a White House employee. If they weren't letting them in, Fiona had no chance.
She stepped out of the tent and looked at the debris. That was all that remained of Capitol Hill. And they still didn't know who had done it.
She passed John on her way out. "Thanks for your help, Fi." He said, "We would've missed them without you."
She blushed. She had only been a tiny part and she knew it. "Bye John." She mumbled.
He smiled. "I hope I don't see you for a long time."
"Me too." Next time they saw each other, she knew, would be at another emergency situation.
Sitting in the airport several hours later, she read the New York Times. The same White House employee was on the front, along with another picture of her slapping an FBI agent. Fiona wondered if she was friends with CJ or that other guy.
There was an article about Bill Fryer, the former Secretary of Education/New President of the United States. There wasn't very much information because they still hadn't had a press conference with him. They also had the latest death toll. It was set at two hundred twenty-six dead or missing and nine hundred forty-two injured. Nearly the whole federal government had been there. How were they possibly going to start over again?
