Day 362

By Mark D. Campbell

“As above, so below.”

A sudden apocalyptic event strikes the United States of America and catches the highest levels of government completely off-guard. The president and his best men are rushed deep inside a top secret White House bunker to ride out the storm underground.

No one inside the bunker is certain about what exactly happened, who is to blame, or how they should respond.

With no sign of rescue coming and communication to the outside completely cut-off, conditions deteriorate, tensions mount and supplies run low as tempers rise. As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months, will the president and his men be able to maintain their own sense of humanity–or will they each fall victim to their own animalistic natures?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Permuted
• Release date: May 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781618685797

Book preview

DAY 362

MARK D. CAMPBELL

A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK

Published at Smashwords

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-579-7

DAY 362

© 2015 by Mark D. Campbell

All Rights Reserved

Cover art by David Walker

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

Permuted Press

109 International Drive, Suite 300

Franklin, TN 37067

http://permutedpress.com/

CONTENTS

DAY 1

DAY 23

DAY 24

DAY 354

DAY 355

DAY 356

DAY 357

DAY 358

DAY 359

DAY 360

DAY 361

DAY 362

About the Author

DAY 1

The hallway was immaculately clean and the lavish walls were adorned with oil paintings of former presidents. A decorative fireplace and stone busts on marble pillars stood on one side of the hall while multiple office doors slathered in varnish dominated the opposite side. A red carpet ran down the center of the hallway and led towards a set of wooden doors.

At the end of the hall, two secret service agents wearing black suits stood in front of the double doors with their hands clasped in front of them.

Two men walked along the center of the red carpet towards the double doors. The heels of their Italian dress shoes clacked against the floor with each step they took.

I don’t understand, President Hagen said as he walked next to the congressman, shaking his head. Your fellow constituents shot down that piece of legislation ever since I came into office. Why would they support the measure now?

President Hagen was clean-shaven and wore an expensive suit complimented by a red silk tie. His thick black hair was combed neatly to the side and had just enough grey in it to give him a look of consummate elegance. His flawless facial features were sharp and distinguished. He held his hands behind his back as he walked, gently running his thumbs across his manicured fingernails out of habit. His platinum wedding band and his gold Rolex glistened underneath the recessed lights in the ceiling while his fine cologne filled the air.

Congressman Williams smiled and took a white handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit. He gently wiped the handkerchief across his portly cheeks and his brow, wiping away small beads of sweat.

Well, it will take some convincing and some ear bending, but I reckon I can make them come around to my way of thinking, Williams said in his southern drawl.

The congressman was short and grossly overweight. His gargantuan stomach hung over his belt and jiggled as he waddled alongside the president. His suit jacket was stained with sweat and his grey slacks were wrinkled. Although mostly bald, he kept what little hair he had left around his crown matted down with gel. His face was round, his lips were thick, and he his eyes held the smarmy intelligence of a snake.

The president gave the fat southern Democrat a sly old grin as they walked.

What’s the price for this bipartisan gesture of goodwill? Hagen asked. After all, he had been around long enough to know how the political game was played.

Oh, I ‘pose we can go over the particulars soon enough, Williams said with an innocent smile. We ain’t asking for anything major … just an addendum or two.

As the men approached the double doors, the two secret service agents stepped forward and held the doors open for them.

We? Hagen asked as he walked through the doorway with the congressman.

As soon as the president and the congressman passed through, the secret service agents closed the doors and returned to their posts.

Williams nodded as he walked with the president down another hallway that was sumptuously appointed with oil paintings. The White House was an endless maze of corridors and secret passageways.

There was a single door at the end of the hall.

The door was guarded by two additional secret service agents.

My colleague from Alabama should be joining us in a few minutes or thereabouts, Williams said as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead again. I’d sooner go over all the particulars once the three of us are in the same room. I’d hate to bore you by repeating my little yarn.

I thought blowing hot air was one of your favorite pastimes, Hagen mused.

Williams let out a loud, boisterous laugh as he slapped the president on the back.

You’re a real card, sir! Williams said with a pseudo smile. He waved a fat finger at the president. I won’t let you get a rise out of me that easily though!

Of course not, Hagen thought with a smile, you save those grandiose outbursts for the cameras.

Once the two men reached the end of the hall, one of the secret service agents stepped forward and opened the door for them.

Mr. President, the secret service agent said with a respectful nod as he held the door open.

The president and the congressman didn’t even acknowledge the secret service agent as they walked past him and entered the room.

The secret service agent frowned and closed the door.

Inside the room, a woman sat behind an expansive desk. The desk was cluttered with papers and a large computer monitor. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and a tall window in the back of the room overlooked the White House’s manicured grounds. A door stood on each side of the room; one door led to the security room and the other led into the Oval Office.

The woman stopped typing and stood as soon as the president and the congressman entered the room.

Mr. President, the woman said with a smile. She flattened the front of her dress with her palms and quickly adjusted her glasses. She was short, thin, and wore her brown hair up in a bun.

Hello Mellissa, Hagen said, smiling back. Did I get any calls while I was out?

Mellissa shook her head and sat back down.

No, sir, but Senator Blanch is waiting in your office, Mellissa said. He doesn’t have an appointment … but he was rather insistent. He—

Hagen smiled and held up his hand, cutting her off.

That’s fine, Mellissa, thanks, Hagen said.

Well how about that! It sounds like he beat us here, Williams said as he stuffed his sweaty handkerchief back into his pocket.

As if you two didn’t already have this planned, Hagen thought.

Well let’s not keep him waiting, Hagen said as he walked towards his office. He turned towards the secretary and nodded. Thank you Mellissa.

You’re welcome sir, Mellissa said as she went back to typing.

Hagen opened the door and stepped into the Oval Office.

Williams followed behind him.

The Oval Office featured three large south-facing windows behind the president's desk, and a fireplace at the north end. Oil paintings adorned the walls and luxurious red drapes dressed the tall windows. A round rug covered the floor and a grandfather clock sat next to the fireplace. Swedish ivy sat atop the fireplace’s mantle. A red phone sat next to a black phone on the president’s desk. In front of the desk sat two chairs.

Next to the grandfather clock stood Senator Blanch with his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing a grey suit.

Blanch was a wiry old man with a wrinkly face. His facial features were droopy and his head was bald. His pale skin was covered with liver spots.

In truth, Hagen thought Blanch was miserable company and tried to avoid him.

Senator, what a pleasant surprise! How are you today? Hagen asked as he closed the door and walked towards the senator.

Blanch frowned and glanced at the grandfather clock.

Tired, Blanch said in his raspy old voice. I’ve been waiting here for thirty minutes. He looked over at the congressman and nodded. Hello, Jimbo.

Howdy, Earl! Williams said jovially.

Hagen shook Blanch’s boney hand and smiled.

Sorry for the wait but I wasn’t expecting you, Hagen said. He walked towards his desk and extended an open palm towards the chairs. Please have a seat.

Williams plopped down on one of the seats in front of the desk and let out an exhausted sigh.

Blanch slowly made his way towards the other chair and sat down, knees popping loudly in protest.

Williams looked over at the senator and smiled, patting the old man on the back with his pudgy hand.

You better be careful. You’re getting too old for all that standing, Earl, Williams said.

The senator cackled.

Well soon I’ll be lying down permanently so I may as well keep standing while I’m able! Blanch said with a toothy grin.

If only he had known how true that statement was.

The congressman and the senator laughed.

The president smiled and sat down in his plush leather chair. He folded his hands on his desk and stared at the two men.

So let’s get right down to business. What are you proposing exactly? Hagen asked the senator.

Blanch licked his dry lips and cleared his throat, about to speak—

The red phone on the desk started ringing.

All three men froze and stared at the phone, alarmed.

Hagen reached over, picked up the receiver, and cradled it against his ear.

President Hagen speaking, he said into the phone in an uneasy voice.

The line was crackling and full of static.

"Mr. President, this is General Cartwright of the North American Aerospace Defense Command, the man on the phone said in a panicked voice. We have a situation. There’s been a—"

The connection warbled and died.

Hello? Hagen said into the phone.

The line was completely dead, no dial tone, nothing.

The president placed the receiver back on the cradle and stared at it in confusion for several seconds.

What in the Sam Hill was that all about? Williams asked.

Hagen simply shook his head and picked up the regular phone, the black phone. He pressed the receiver against his ear and listened, but there was no dial tone.

I’m not sure, Hagen said as he checked the phone again. He put the receiver down and stared at both phones. The phones just went out.

Both of them are down? Williams asked, looking at the red phone. I thought that one was some kind of secured line.…

It is, Hagen said, annoyed. I don’t understand what happened.

I’m sure it’s nothing. Let me check my cellphone, Blanch grumbled, shaking his head.

Blanch dug his cellphone out of his pocket and stared at the screen.

That’s odd … I don’t have any bars, Blanch muttered as he narrowed his eyes, frowning at the screen.

Williams pulled out his phone and stared at the screen in disbelief.

I don’t have a dang signal either, Williams said, perplexed.

Gentlemen, Hagen said as he stood up. I hate to cut our meeting short but I need to see what’s going on. See Mellissa on your way out and have her put you on my calendar. Please excuse me.

Now wait a minute! We deserve an explanation! Williams said as he held a fat hand up towards the president. What in the heck is going on? What did they say on the phone? Are we under some sort of attack? Should we be worried?

I honestly don’t know, Hagen admitted as he started to walk towards the door.

As soon as the president approached the door, it opened and the secretary of defense stepped into the Oval Office.

The secretary of defense looked troubled.

An armed military officer holding a metallic briefcase accompanied the secretary of defense. The officer was young and had a stern look on his face. His air force uniform bore a major’s insignias. He stood at attention and snapped a salute to the president.

Mr. President, Secretary of Defense Yates said as he saluted the president and quickly lowered his hand. He had a muscular build, cropped blonde hair, and an old scar above his piercing blue eyes. Although he hadn’t served on the frontline for many years, he still had the air of discipline that the military engrained in him. I’m sorry to interrupt but Major Harrington and myself have been instructed to accompany you downstairs. The extraction team is waiting outside in the hall.

Hagen frowned as he stared at the secretary of defense and the air force officer. His eyes trailed down to the suitcase; he knew exactly what was inside. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew it had to be something serious. He nodded and quickly walked out of the Oval Office.

Major Harrington turned and followed the president, gripping the briefcase tightly.

Why? Are we under attack? Congressman Williams asked the secretary of defense.

Yates didn’t respond. He turned and followed the major out of the Oval Office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Alone in the Oval Office, the congressman and the senator looked at each other, baffled.

Sir, I lost the Internet connection and my phone is down, Melissa told the president as he brushed past her desk. She frantically typed on the keyboard and then pushed it aside in frustration. She looked up at him, concerned. What’s going on?

Hagen was ushered out of the room by the secretary of defense before he could even answer.

In the hallway, four secret service agents wearing tactical armor were waiting with the secretary of homeland security.

The secret service agents were armed with MP5s and were part of the White House’s special emergency extraction detail.

Mr. President, Secretary of Homeland Security Rutherford said with a nod.

Rutherford was short and stocky. His suit was pressed and his hair was combed back. He was a timid man by nature but was hard to read since his demeanor was always calm, always quiet. He had a way of avoiding conflicts and de-escalating heated situations. He had a perpetual poker face and a seemingly innocent look behind his calculating gaze.

If Rutherford knew something, the president couldn’t tell by reading his deadpan expression.

The president’s stomach soured at the sight of the tactical officers since their presence reaffirmed just how serious the situation was.

The entourage of men turned and hurried down the hallway away from the president’s office. Two agents walked in the front while the other two agents followed in the rear.

What in the hell is going on, Yates? Hagen asked.

The secretary of defense shook his head.

We … don’t know, Yates said. NASA received a distress signal from the ISS approximately eight minutes ago before all communication with the station stopped. Shortly thereafter, all of our communication systems started going haywire.

Most aren’t working at all, Rutherford quickly added. Our satellites, both civilian and military, are disappearing off the map faster than we can keep track. We don’t know what caused this. I mean, it could be a number of things. It could be a strong cosmic storm … an X-Class solar flare … or something more sinister.

What do you mean by ‘something more sinister’? Hagen asked. Are you implying that someone caused this to happen?

Yates nodded somberly and started talking before Rutherford could answer.

It’s very likely that this was intentional. All of our electronic systems, including our nuclear early warning systems, are going haywire. According to the last signals we received, we’re under attack, Yates quietly explained to the president. We can’t even call and verify anything with our early warning stations because our satellite communication equipment is either dead or dying. HF, VHF, microwave … none of it is working properly. Hell, we can’t even get in touch with our bases using landlines. The defense switched network is falling apart and now we’re flying with blinders.

They reached the end of the hall and walked through another set of double doors into the long hallway that led to the West Wing’s main corridor.

I don’t understand, Hagen said as he shook his head. Are we really under attack or are the systems just malfunctioning because of some extreme cosmic event like Rutherford mentioned?

Like I said, we don’t know, but right now we have to assume the worst case scenario, Yates said.

Hagen looked down at the metallic briefcase as they walked.

What scenario would that be? Hagen asked even though he already knew the answer.

The secretary of defense looked over at the president with a concerned expression on his face.

The worst case scenario is that another country purposefully disrupted our communication and defense systems with some type of electromagnetic pulse weapon in preparation to launch a strategic nuclear strike against the United States of America, Yates said. Continuity of Operations Protocols have been initiated. As of eight minutes ago, we’re at war.

EMPs? Nuclear war … Dear God, Hagen muttered to himself in disbelief. He looked over at the secretary of defense and stopped walking. What about my wife and daughter?

The double doors at the end of the hall swung open before the secretary of defense could answer.

Another tactical agent entered the hallway holding an MP5.

The four agents that were escorting the president stood at attention as soon as the man entered the hall.

Mr. President, I’m Agent Martinez, the new agent said with a quick salute. I’m in charge of your extraction detail. They’re about to activate Safe Harbor and get everyone into their designated fallout shelters. The halls are going to get pretty busy with lots of frightened people. We need to stay close and move fast.

Martinez was clad in black armor and black tactical fatigues. He had a well-defined chin, dark skin, and deep-brown eyes. A ballistic helmet covered his head. He looked like the type of man who could handle any situation, a natural leader.

"SecOps to all detachments, a female voice announced over the tactical team’s radio. Please advise when you’ve secured all primaries."

Martinez keyed his radio mic.

Alpha Team to SecOps Control, we’ve secured Diamond and three VIPs. We’re headed to the executive bunker now. Do you copy? Martinez said into the mic.

"SecOps copies all, make your way to the bunker and be ready to rendezvous with Bravo, over," the radio replied.

How does it look outside? Why are they activating a full-blown Safe Harbor instead of doing a limited extraction protocol? Yates quickly asked.

Sir, the situation has escalated, Martinez said with urgency in his voice. The disruption in cellular traffic was bad enough, but now that the sky has changed people are really starting to panic. Shots have been fired near the White House. If the perimeter gets breached then there’s no telling how things will unfold.

How has the sky changed? Rutherford asked, confused.

Martinez