Powerless by Tim Washburn Page B

now. Don’t leave us stranded like your predecessor did during Katrina. We need immediate federal help. Half of the Ninth Ward is underwater and the water level is rising. Please, Mr. President, the time to act is now . . .”
    The intercom buzzes. President Harris stabs the button.
    â€œDirector Carter is here, sir.”
    â€œSend him in please, Barb.”
    The President stands and meets the FEMA director mid-room and steers him to one of the sofas. Alexander kills the sound and tosses the remote on the side table before moving to one of the facing chairs.
    President Harris points toward the television. “Anything we can do about New Orleans, Don?”
    â€œWe’re doing everything we can, sir, but we’re spread thin. The Corps of Engineers is working like hell to replace the pumps, but that’s like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.” Don pauses for a moment, then throws up his hands. “It may be time, sir, to write that area off. If we’re truly going to be without electricity for months or years, New Orleans will become an uninhabitable swamp.”
    â€œDo what you can, Don, at least while we still have power. How’s the rest of the country?”
    â€œNothing good, Mr. President. Most of Alaska is without power, as are portions of Canada and the higher elevations of Colorado. The Canadians are dealing with a potential meltdown at their Atlantic coast nuclear reactor. I put all state FEMA departments on urgent status and all available workers are en route to their designated areas. But I have to tell you, sir, I don’t know how much urgency there will be without some indication of what is happening. Are you still planning on addressing the nation?”
    President Harris glances at Scott before answering. “We’re still debating the merits.”
    â€œBut, Mr. President, we need to offer the people some type of warning. I haven’t given specific instructions to the state agencies on what to prepare for, but I would like—”
    The intercom buzzes again. The President punches the button, “Yes, Barb.”
    â€œSir, there’s a call which came through the White House switchboard from a Dr. Samuel Blake, claiming he needs to speak—”
    â€œPut the call through, Barb.” He waits for the phone call to be routed through, then punches the flashing button putting the call on speakerphone.
    â€œSam, what’s the latest?”
    â€œI’ve been trying to get a call through for the past hour, sir. I don’t think we have eight hours.”
    â€œHow long do you think?”
    â€œI think it could happen at any moment, may already be happening. Our remaining instruments are indicating massive spikes in the Earth’s magnetic field. The electrical interference is off the charts.”
    â€œWhat are you telling me, Sam? We’re too late to do anything?”
    â€œMaybe, Mr. President.”
    The President’s shoulders sag. “Okay, Sam, I’ll send out the word. Are you in a safe place?”
    â€œI don’t know, Mr. President. There may be no safe places when the power goes out.”
    Silence. Then the President says, “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we have safe places, Sam. Take care.” President Harris reaches over and disconnects the call.
    â€œThis is it?” Don asks.
    President Harris nods. Then, in a toneless voice, says, “Make sure we have some way to communicate, Don. Tell your people to be ready for the worst, and tell them to stay out of harm’s way as much as possible.”
    Carter stands from the sofa on shaky legs. “I will, Mr. President.” He turns and shuffles out of the office.
    President Harris turns to Alexander. “Scott, will you get Janice on the line, please? I guess our decision to notify the public is now moot.”
    â€œI will, Mr. President.” His reply is a raspy whisper as he steps behind the desk and