CHAPTER 8

January 22

10:45 PM. EST. Donna Moss's apartment

Donna was staring dully at some stupid talk show. She'd already called the hospital three times and each time it was the same response. "Nobody knows anything for certain yet."

She shut off the TV and stood up. She'd go back and wait. She'd done it once before.

She reached up on a shelf to get her car keys and knocked a dusty picture frame off. She caught it, but didn't look at it. It was from last year's State of the Union ball. For once Josh hadn't sent her off on some humiliating task and she'd had a really good time. She didn't look at the picture but couldn't keep it from shoving its way into her mind. Sam, Josh, CJ, and her, all semi-posed in the Rose Garden. Toby had taken the picture, then yelled at Josh for sticking his tongue out and ruining it. Donna'd considered blackmailing Josh with it, but had never been able to find the right occasion.

Donna shook her head, trying to get rid of the image. She carefully placed the frame back on the shelf, face down, and left.

The picture stayed in her mind as she pulled off of the curb and started down the street. She reached over and flipped on the radio with trembling hands. It was on a rock station. She hated the song that was on but turned it up and tried to concentrate.

The waiting room was less crowded than earlier. One woman was still there that she recognized from before. She sat in a corner, surrounded by people but at the same time she seemed completely detached from all of them. She had a Newsweek on her lap but her eyes weren't moving and she never flipped the page. Donna kept glancing over at her.

A doctor came in. "Ms. Cauller?"

The woman looked up. She was more of a girl, Donna realized, she couldn't be much older than eighteen.

"Your sister is awake."

The girl stood up, dropping the Newsweek, and followed her out. Donna picked up the magazine, which was still open to the page Jenny Cauller's sister had been on. It was about the Democrats' new environmental plan, something Josh had been agonizing over and negotiating for months. There were quotes from both him and Sam about it. Why Sam, she didn't know, but he seemed to know what he was talking about. She closed the magazine, tossed it back on the table, and left. She decided to go down to the recovery room and see if Carol was down there or if CJ was awake. It had only been twelve hours but she could hope.

Carol was there. She sat on a stool beside CJ's bed. "Aren't you supposed to be at home?" she asked when Donna stopped beside her.

"Aren't you?"

"I'm not tired."

"Me either."

Donna knelt down beside them. "Have they said anything about—" Carol asked.

"No."

They sat quiet for a while. All around were the sounds of machines, crying, and breathing. Occasionally someone would say something and their voice would drift through the entire room.

Some time after midnight the doors opened and two nurses wheeled a gurney in. "Are there any beds left?" one of them asked the head doctor.

"Over there." She pointed to a bed a few down from CJ. "Who's that?"

"Lyman."

"White House guy?"

"Yep."

Donna, who'd been listening, jumped up and ran over. The nurse cringed as Donna nearly ran into her.

"I told you to go home!" the doctor exclaimed. "Why are you back?"

Donna ignored her. The nurses moved Josh to the bed and stepped back. There was not stool so she knelt down beside the bed.

"We're still not sure about anything." The nurse said, glancing at a clipboard in her hand. "But we're cautiously optimistic."

Donna couldn't speak. She wanted to take his hand but remembered what the doctor had said earlier about germs. He looked like CJ with the bandages.

"You can stay for a few more minutes." The doctor said, "Then, for the love of God, please go home. We don't' have space for you if you collapse from exhaustion."

"I did go home."

"Did you sleep?"

"No."

The doctor rolled her eyes. "Two minutes." She said, "Then you and Carol both leave."

January 23

6:07 AM. EST. The Oval Office.

Maybe it had been a stupid vow to make. I'm not leaving until I find a Chief of Staff, he'd said on the thirtieth box. Now he was on the forty- second and the Yes pile wasn't much bigger than it had been twelve hours ago.

Debbie was helping. Once she'd realized what he was doing, she'd offered to help. Fryer had refused at first, but she had insisted, saying that it was her job. So now they sat together amid a storm of paper.

"Tristan Gray?" Debbie asked dully.

"Let me see."

He took the file, glanced at the photo, and tossed it in the No pile.

"He irks me. I've seen him on TV."

"Sir..."

"Hang on!" he exclaimed suddenly, "I've got it!"

He raced out of the room, wondering why he hadn't thought of this before. Debbie stared after him for a second, then looked at the mess around her. "So should I start cleaning this up?" she wondered out loud.

11:58 PM. EST. Mercy Hospital

Stacy, a surgical nurse, was halfway done checking on the patients one last time before her shift ended. She looked up and saw a shadow in front of the end window.

"Who's there?" she called.

"Just me."

Stacy was so relieved to hear Kenny, the head of the next shift, that she didn't even notice that his voice was coming from her left. The window was directly in front of her.

"I'm going to head out." She said.

"Okay, I'll finish this up."

Kenny went from bed to bed, not looking up once. He quickly finished, then went into the tiny office off to the side to finish some paperwork. Another one had died today.

Once the door of the office as nearly shut, with only a sliver of light cast on the floor, the figure by the window moved. With slow, silent steps he approached Jenny Cauller's bed. She was asleep. So was her sister, who had been granted permission to stay with her. The figure stood over them for a moment, then turned around and went to a bed near the end of the room. He stood over the bed's occupant for a few seconds, then she stirred and half-opened her eyes.

"Hey there, shmutzy-pants." She murmured.