6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel (11 page)

“Sometimes these things slip through the cracks,” Claire replied. “And appointing local offices is never that exciting to most people.”

“I suppose.”

              A server came over and asked if they needed anything else.

              “More wine? Perhaps a dessert?”

              “No, thank you,” Robert said, trying to force a little smile. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

              Robert and Claire walked outside where the car waited for them. The driver quickly got out of the vehicle and opened the door.

4.

              Back at the office, Robert and Claire were met by a swarm of press. They crowded the lobby and all erupted into questions when Robert and Claire entered. A security guard appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and braced himself between them and the press.

              “Director Morgan! Did you just come from meeting the President?”

              “Can we expect action from the President’s office? Is the military getting involved?”

              “One at a time, please!” Robert insisted, lifted his hand. “I’ll get to everyone.”

              The din hushed and reporters began raising their hands. Robert pointed at who he guessed had been the first to be quiet.

              “Yes, you, there, ma’am.”

              “Is the military being sent out to the Emerald Coast?”

              “I can’t answer that. You’ll have to ask the President’s office directly.”

              “Is it true that the Coast was not warned about the tsunami?”

              That random outburst from a man in the back reignited the chaos and a chorus of questions rose to its previous volume. Robert tried to shout above the noise, but the press just crowded in closer.

              “This way, sir,” the security guard insisted, grabbing Robert’s elbow and pushing him towards the elevator.

              “Claire! Claire!” Robert called back. “Can you deal with this bunch?”

              He saw her give him a thumbs up just before she was surrounded. Robert and the guard made it to the elevator. The guard pushed Robert’s floor button and stood in silence. He was very tall and dressed in a black suit with a gray-striped tie. Robert recognized him as one of the older guards, who had been around since not long after ECAG formed, and searched his mind briefly for a name.

             
Jack.

             
“Thanks, Jack,” Robert said. “It was getting a little crowded in there.”

              “It was no problem, sir.”

              “Some crazy weather going on today. Scary,” Robert said, putting his hands in his pockets.

              They reached the floor. Jack motioned for Robert to leave first, and remained in the elevator.

              “Not coming?” Robert asked.

              “I should go back downstairs, sir. Make sure Miss Doherty is all right.”

              “Ah! Good idea. Thank you.”

              The doors closed. Robert turned and was greeted by a flurry of activity. People paced back and forth from office to office, talking on phones or handing off papers. As Robert walked through to his office, it was like he was invisible. The machine kept turning, undisturbed by his presence. Robert closed the door softly behind him and took a moment to breathe in slowly and deeply. There would have to be a press conference. The President would probably be calling any minute now. It was a little odd he hadn’t mentioned it at lunch. Robert walked to his desk and stood in front of it, examining his neatly-organized system. He had his calendar printed onto a large rectangular piece of paper so it covered most of it the desk’s surface. He liked to have his calendar this way so he could write directly on it without having to keep track of a separate notebook or take out his phone constantly. On top of the calendar, he had his mug filled with pens, a tape dispenser, a tablet, and the office phone. Robert did not have a desk with drawers. If he arrived to the point where he needed a drawer to hold everything, he had too many things. Robert liked to keep it simple. His job was chaotic enough; he didn’t need his office to be contributing to that chaos.

              Robert cracked all ten of his knuckles and his neck before taking his place behind his desk. The blinds to his window were open, revealing the large, now wind-tattered tree that had stood there since Robert first began his career at ECAG. He had seen that tree in all its forms: naked and gray during the winter, tipped with green and yellow buds during the spring, full and shimmery in the summer, and blooming like fire in the autumn. The storm had torn a great deal of the smaller, weak twigs from the tree now, and the leaves looked like limp, drenched flags. Branches scratched against the window as if begging to be let in. Robert could see lightning and wondered if many trees had been struck already. A tree struck by lightning was a rather terrifying sight. Charred wood, branches split like brittle hair, smoldering ash...and all from something that just looked like a narrow beam of light, there and gone in the blink of an eye.

              Robert sat looking out his window in a trance-like state and barely noticed when Claire swept into the room carrying a tablet.

“Sir, you need to see this,” Claire said sternly.

She rounded Robert’s desk and held up her tablet so they could both watch. It was the President. He was giving a speech.

“What? I didn’t know anything…”

“Just watch, sir.”

Robert obeyed. Fitzwilliam had changed since lunch; he was wearing a dark gray suit with a tie striped in the nation’s colors. It was a subtle choice, but an important one. He looked solemn, which was strange for him. Robert held his breath as he listened.

“What happened today and is continuing to happen is a national tragedy. Right now it is impossible to measure the extent of the damage or lives lost, but I can say that this is the worst recorded event in climate change history. The military and other aid operations are attempting to reach those who need help most, but what happened on the Emerald Coast is a troubling show of failure and ineptitude on the part of ECAG. The lack of ample warning of the tsunami and subsequent delay in rescue and aid can only be described as a catastrophe.”

Robert’s mouth fell open. The President droned on, giving flowery promises of rebuilding and emotional solidarity, but his words fell on deaf ears. Claire turned off the tablet and hugged it to her chest, looking down at Robert.  He just sat there, staring into the space where the tablet had been.

“My God,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “He’s throwing us under the bus.”

“Covering up for Kirk Baxter, it looks like.”

Robert removed his glasses and lay his head on the table. Claire contemplated patting his back, but she refrained.

“There must be more to this, sir,” she said. “Something we don’t know.”

Robert lifted his head with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah. Yeah. Did the press downstairs see this?”

“Probably, sir. I I came back up just before he started speaking.”

Robert was about to say something else when his phone rang. A shudder ran up and down his spine like an insect with a million legs. He had a feeling that some questions were about to be answered. He was afraid of what those answers might be. He picked up the phone.

“Director Morgan.”

“This is Raymond Terrace. I assume you have just watched the President’s speech?”

“What’s going on, Terrace? What the hell is the big idea screwing us over like that?”

“Calm down, Robert. No names were mentioned. You will be protected. Of course, you’ll have to do us that favor of deleting those Baxter files.”

“Goddamn it, that’s highly unethical.”

“It’s for the good of the people, Robert. We discussed this.”

“The truth is going to come out, Terrace. And I will not be blamed for it.”

“It won’t. Trust me.”

“Kirk Baxter will talk. People who were there will talk.”

“They’re all dead, Robert,” Terrace said firmly.

Robert’s blood ran cold. He looked at Claire, who could hear the VP’s voice even with the phone not on speaker. Her eyes widened. Robert had to clear his throat before speaking again. He knew the conversation wasn’t about Rachel, but hearing that phrase instantly turned his thoughts to her.

“Who is all dead?”

“Everyone at the office. Baxter, the staff, the security guards, the janitors. The tsunami waters flooded the office and they couldn’t get to safety in time. No one from there will be saying anything anytime soon.”

“How do you know this?”

“Military choppers.”

Robert felt a headache budding behind his eyes. He rubbed his head.

“Now I know what you’re probably thinking, Robert. No, we did not have anything to do with those deaths. It is a tragedy as a result of a disastrous misjudgment on Baxter’s part. He bears all the responsibility. The problem is that burden will transfer to the President if who Baxter is gets out to the public.”

“Who’s going to get the burden if the President doesn’t? Someone always has to be blamed, sir.”

Robert’s voice sounded hollow in his ears, like the voice of someone else. He could hardly believe he was even having this conversation. He had dealt with some questionable politicians doing questionable things in the past, but nothing like this. This was straight out of a political conspiracy movie.

“One of the other staffers. This is the story: Kirk Baxter stepped down from his position a week ago. The staffer who took his place panicked during this crisis and despite counsel from both you and Baxter, did not issue the tsunami warning in time.”

“I just can’t see this working, sir. I…”

“Don’t worry, Robert. Just do your part, and you and your people will be protected.”

Robert bit his lip too hard and tasted blood. He knew he couldn’t trust Terrace. He also knew that this government was very good at creating narratives. They had turned Fitzwilliam - a Ruby Coast elite - into a man of the people who could shovel manure and go deep-sea fishing without breaking his stride. They had taken the story of his first marriage and somehow transformed it from a shotgun wedding into the fairy tale of a man who married his best friend when she became pregnant by a rape. The administration was excellent at making the truth more boring than make-believe, so the media stayed focused on what the government wanted them to see. No doubt Kirk Baxter would be made out to look like a hero, a man who urged the right action but died before he could see it fulfilled. It was brilliant, really. A subtle change and suddenly the President’s family tie to Baxter was a positive talking point, not a condemning one. Robert could hear the media chatter now.

“The President himself was not spared from the carnage of this tsunami.”

“Kirk Baxter, half-cousin of the President, urged action from the new Emerald Coast director, but his wise counsel fell on deaf ears.”

“Are you there, Director?”

Robert emerged from his thoughts and gripped the telephone tighter.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Have we reached an understanding?”

Robert swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

After hanging up, Robert sat with his hands in his lap, frowning. Thoughts raced through his mind, and he forced them to stand in line and wait their turn. He needed to focus.

What was the real harm in changing the file? It didn’t change the fact that no warning had gone out, and the person who ended up taking the blame was dead. On the other side, not changing the file could harm a lot of people. It could cost ECAG funding, cost Robert his job, and discredit the entire organization. The country needed ECAG. Robert was sure of this. There had to be some kind of organization dedicated solely to supplying aid and resources that was separate from the government, at least in part. ECAG was efficient and comprised of committed, good-hearted people. Could that be said of any other group?

But what kind of precedent would bowing to the Vice President set? Robert was sure this wouldn’t be the only time his office would be approached like this. Climate change was not going to slow down; there would only be more and stronger storms. Misjudgments and mistakes would continue to cost people their lives and eventually, even with all the tailoring and snipping of the truth, it would all come out.

If Robert changed the file, more people would die. That’s what it all came down to. Robert didn’t care about keeping his job if it meant protecting the grievous mistakes of the President and his cronies. The people would protect him. They would see through Fitzwilliam and Terrace and rally around Robert, who they knew had never compromised for the sake of political gain or to save his own ass. If he had to leave ECAG, he would find another way to help.

“We’re not changing the file, Claire,” Robert said firmly, looking earnestly into Claire’s eyes. “It may not seem like a big thing the VP is asking, but...”

“I understand, sir,” Claire assured him, a smile tickling the corners of her mouth. “And I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

5.

              The next two hours were plagued by details and anxiety. It crackled through the building like the lightning outside and more than one lower-rung office drone had to take a moment in the bathroom to calm themselves. Pilots were assigned specific routes and landing instructions, nurses were briefed on their missions, and storeroom attendants piled aid boxes in helicopters. Robert took the elevator up and down, dividing his time between signing orders, giving instructions, and peering at the tracker screens in the basement. The flood waters continued to spread further inland on the coast, but the rate at which it rose had slowed. The first choppers had made landfall and reported back with footage of the damage. Everything was underwater. Tall resorts had been tumbled like sandcastles and 10-foot tall trees looked like shrubs peeking up out of the surface. People began to be rescued, lucky ones, who just happened to be the first that the pilots saw waving from rooftops. There was a troublingly small number of rooftop survivors, however; Robert knew it would be a long time before they’d be able to accurately tally the number of those lost.

              The tornado areas were less of a priority, to Robert’s dismay. He desperately wanted to send out choppers, but it would be to find Danny, and they needed all their pilots for the coast. ECAG was able to communicate with the Valcoht office and learned that local systems were in good order. Police, firefighters and medical resources were all properly in action.

             
If everything is so great, then why doesn’t Danny call?
Robert thought anxiously.

              He kept checking his cell phone, but there was nothing from either of his children. Before one of his elevator trips down to the basement, Robert suddenly felt the need to talk to Elisa. He veered from the elevator to the bathroom and locked himself in a stall. He selected her number.

              “Hello?”

              “Hi, honey, it’s me.”

              “I was hoping you’d call,” Elisa said softly.

              They didn’t say anything for a moment and just listened to the other breathe. Robert felt very close to Elisa and closed his eyes, forgetting for just a moment where he was or what he was facing. Things felt still.

              “It looks like things have calmed down a little,” Elisa said hesitantly.

              “Oh, hmm. A little. The choppers got in, so that’s good. Have...have you heard from either of the kids?”

              “No,” Elisa replied, her voice nearly a whisper.

              “Oh.”

              “We’ll just keep trying,” Elisa said, trying to sound more optimistic. “A lot of things could have happened. Rachel could have lost her cell phone, the cell towers could be down, things like that.”

              “You’re right.”

              They were quiet again for a moment. Robert thought over all the possibilities and felt better knowing there were a lot of other reasons for why his children hadn’t called besides them being dead or terribly injured.

              “What’s the weather like at the office?” Elisa asked, filling the silence.

              “Bad. Stormy.”
              “Same here. The sirens even went off for a little while, but it’s not as bad anymore.”

              “This day is like a nightmare. I just want to come home.”

              Robert didn’t know when that would be. During lesser disasters, he had stayed late into the night. He still would have to give a press conference and respond to what the President said, and then there was the whole issue with the files...Robert considered telling Elisa about what had transpired, but decided to wait. However, he should at least give her an idea about what was going on.

              “Did you see the President’s speech?” he asked.

              “I did. I’m not very happy with that man.”

              “No, it wasn’t great.”

              “There’s a whole story to that that I have to tell you when I get home. Just know that there’s some iffy politics going on right now and I’m kind of in a bind.”

              “What kind of bind?”

              “I was asked to do something unethical. And it would ultimately hurt the public.”

              “So you’re going against the President’s orders?”
              “Essentially.”

              Elisa was quiet for a moment, thinking. Robert could picture her chewing on her lip, frowning, and no doubt calling the President a series of ugly names in her mind. She was not a fan of Fitzwilliam. She found him phony and spineless.

              “You know my feelings about him. And you know that I trust you and support you.”

              Robert smiled. He wished he could be with Elisa in person in that moment and wrap her in his arms. They had not been together this whole day, during this ordeal, and Robert ached for her.

              “I love you,” he said.

              “I love you, too.”

              Going down to the basement, Robert felt more at ease. His heart wasn’t so jumpy and he didn’t feel like he was right on the verge of vomiting. Almost the moment he entered the tracker room, an assistant with a phone was there.

              “Sir, you’ve got a call. He says he’s your son.”

              Robert grabbed the phone from the assistant, nearly snatching it away, and brought it to his ear.

              “Danny?”

“Dad, it’s me.”

Relief washed over Robert. He leaned forward, gripping the phone tighter as if that would bring him closer to his son.

“Thank God! Are you guys okay? We’ve been tracking what’s going on and it looks like about five tornadoes touched down within a 40-mile radius.”

Robert pointed over the tech’s shoulder at the screen, as if Danny could have seen it. The tech zoomed in for Robert, so he could see the vibrantly-colored swirls still circling the area.

“Yeah, we got hit. We’re all ok, though, but the house is gone.”

Danny’s voice was strangely calm. He was still in some form of shock, no doubt. Robert had heard the tone from Danny many times before. It was his default when he was trying to fight his anxiety.

“I’m so sorry. Are you safe now?”

“We’re at a church. Not sure what the next move will be.”

“Does it have a basement?”

“No, just the gym.”

Robert snapped his fingers impatiently, triggering a brief scramble to decipher what he wanted. He pointed aggressively at the screen again. Omid zoomed in even further. Clusters of tornados were moving steadily southern, carrying heavy storms with them.

“Dad?”

Robert focused back on Danny. “There are more tornadoes forming. Can you see anything?”
              “Some storms in the north. Is it bad?”

“Hard to say by the time they reach you, but it is definitely heading your way. I would find better shelter if I were you, something concrete. How are the boys?”

Silence. Robert pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it. He looked at the keypad.

“What the…?”

Before he could finish, the lights went out, leaving only the large bright climate screens, which were on their own separate generator for just this reason. People began to scramble and cries of, “Check the fuse!” and “Get the phones back up!” echoed through the room.

“What’s going on? Did something blow?” Robert asked the tech he had been standing behind.

“Not sure, sir,” the man replied, switching to another screen with a swipe of his finger. “The storms here seem to have been getting worse. It could be lightning, sir.”

“I need a light!” Robert called, heading towards the elevator.

Someone appeared by his side holding one of the flashlights that were standard issue for assistants. Robert glanced over and saw that it was Michael.

“Thanks,” Robert said.

He pressed the elevator button but it did not light up.

“That’s not good,” Michael said.

“Stairs,” Robert declared.

He bolted to the stairwell with Michael close behind. They jogged up, the light jolting with Michael’s movements. When they reached Robert’s floor, they were greeted by a bright glow of lights as people scrambled about the hallway.

“Claire!” Robert called, entering the fray. “Where is my assistant?”

“She’s in her office!” someone answered him with a high pitched voice.

Robert rounded the corner to where he knew Claire’s office was located. Her door was slightly ajar and Robert could see light from within. He paused for a moment, puzzled. The light was not from a standard issue flashlight. It was yellow instead of white-blue. Someone else was in there. Robert pushed open the door, Michael still at his elbow with the light. As soon as they entered, the yellow light went out, but Robert could make out a male silhouette standing behind the desk.

“Who’s there? Claire?” Robert said, stepping forward.

Michael held up the light to illuminate the stranger. They ducked to avoid being seen and before Robert could speak again, they had leapt over the desk and pushed past Robert and Michael roughly.

“Hey!” Robert shouted.

He took off after the intruder. Robert was fast, but the stranger was faster. Robert saw him push his way through the people still in the hallway and make for the stairs. “Somebody hold the guy!” Robert yelled, but nobody reacted fast enough before the figure could reach the nearest staircase. Robert arrived at the top of the stairs just moments after the man had and followed him down the stairs; their footsteps thundering in the echoic stairwell. The stranger ran through the door to the outside instead of the lobby. Robert was right on his heels, but there was a car waiting. The stranger somersaulted through the open door and the car screeched away, water flying off the back of its tires. Robert shouted after it, his voice muffled by a roll of thunder. He tried to see the license plate, but there was nothing there. He was left standing in the pouring rain, confused and angry. When he turned to go back inside, he found that the outside had locked. Grumbling, Robert went around the side of the massive building, towards the front and went inside through the lobby. There were still a few reporters hanging around, but he ignored their stares.

“I have no comment!” Robert declared before anyone could say anything.

“Director Morgan, wait! Sir, just one question!”

Sighing, Robert paused and nodded.

“One. Go ahead.”

“What do you think of the President’s remarks regarding the efficiency of ECAG?”

The question felt like a splinter under Robert’s fingernails. He fought an instinctive sneer.

“All I have to say is that my office performed all of its responsibilities to the best of its ability, including ordering the Emerald Coast officials to issue a tsunami warning following the earthquake. As we speak, rescue pilots and medical authorities are in the affected areas and hard at work saving lives. That’s it. No more questions.”

A few shouts followed him, but none of the reporters were aggressive enough to physically pursue Robert. He went to the stairwell and trudged back up the four flights to his floor. The emergency lights on the stairs had gone on, so he could at least see where he was going, but the regular ceiling lights were still out.  So the President’s office was resorting to robbery now? Who else could the stranger have been? As he approached his floor, Robert got out his cell phone to call Elisa to tell her Danny was all right. He saw that his reception was spotty.

Damn storm,
Robert cursed.
Why now?

As he entered the hallway, Michael was standing by Robert’s office door, fidgeting nervously, his flashlight clutched in both hands. When he saw Robert, he rushed over to him.

“There you are! Are you okay, sir?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hurry, sir, Claire was attacked!”

They rushed over to Claire’s office. A few other staffers had gathered there, shining their lights to illuminate the situation. Claire was sitting in her chair, being tended to by the office nurse. She had a nasty bruise on her forehead, which the nurse was dabbing with something that made her wince.

“Are you all right, Claire? What the hell?” Robert exclaimed.

“I found her behind the desk, sir,” Michael explained. “After you ran after that guy.”

“He hit me,” Claire said. “He came out of nowhere. I could hear someone behind me, and when I turned, he just hit me.”

“Did you get a look at him at all?” Robert asked.

“Not really, not in the dark. Definitely a man. He had his raincoat collar popped. Taller than me.”

“For the love of God,” Robert muttered. “Did he take anything? Get anything from the computer?”

“No, I checked. He didn’t even get past the password protection.”

Robert nodded slowly, pleased. So the VP did not expect Robert to follow the orders and change the file. That much was clear.

Well, let’s give him what he’s expecting,
Robert thought.