Triggers

He slowly lifted his bearded face, but that was all.

“Professor Singh,” she said again. “I need you. The president needs you.”

Ranjip blinked repeatedly but said nothing, and Seth imagined that he was overwhelmed by—who was it now? Ah, yes, the redheaded clown in the clown car: he’d be overwhelmed by Lucius Jono’s memories, vividly intermingling with his own.

Seth turned his attention back to Jasmine and found that he, at least, was regaining his strength, perhaps thanks to all the stimulants that had been pumped into him prior to starting his speech. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said to his wife. “It’s going to be dandy.”

The First Lady nodded, and a memory came to him in out-of-synch stereo: him saying the exact same words after he’d won the Republican nomination.

Across the room, he saw Bessie slump down again in her chair. Dr. Snow began to surge toward the elderly woman, but checked herself, presumably again not wanting to touch one of the infected.

Seth put his hands on the large gray tires of his wheelchair and started pushing himself forward. Jasmine caught his intent and stood behind the wheelchair, but ended up using it as a walker to support herself rather than helping propel it along.

“What are you doing?” Alyssa asked.

The president ignored his doctor and continued to roll until his chair was up against the wall, next to Bessie’s rocker, with the two of them facing in opposite directions. She looked wan and weak, like her life was slipping away. Seth took Bessie’s wrinkled, liver-spotted hand in his, and Jasmine leaned in and placed her hands on top of theirs. The physical connection with Bessie brought Seth a flood of her memories: growing up in rural Mississippi, her father speaking out in favor of segregation, a blisteringly hot summer’s night.

“Bessie,” he said softly.

She stirred slightly, but her eyes were still closed.

“Come on, Bessie,” he said, and he squeezed her hand a bit more tightly.

At last her eyes fluttered open, and they locked on his. He nodded encouragingly, and she smiled slightly at him.

Alyssa Snow came closer. “Mrs. Stilwell, are you okay?”

Bessie nodded and, as Alyssa turned, Bessie reached out with her free hand and clasped Alyssa’s wrist. Seth saw the doctor try to shake the hand loose, but Bessie somehow managed to hold her grip for several seconds.

Alyssa half turned, and Seth, craning his neck, thought she looked unsteady on her feet. He couldn’t get up to help her, but the lieutenant rushed forward and caught her before she toppled, his hands touching hers. He gently lowered her to the floor by holding on to her wrists, letting her back rest against the door of a cabinet. It was only after she was safely down that he realized what he’d done. “Oh, shit,” he said, looking at his hands.

Alyssa’s eyes had gone wide. “My God,” she said softly, and then she mouthed the words once more, but no sound came out.

There was a sink at one side of the room. Seth saw the lieutenant walk toward it, as if the contagion could be washed off with soap and water. But he made it just halfway before he stumbled and went down on his knees.

The Marine with the blond crew cut apparently realized he was the only unaffected person in the room. “What’s happening to y’all?”

Seth found himself marveling at the pronoun so often needed but not existing in most English dialects: y’all. You all. All of you together. All of you as one.

And they had, at least in part, apparently become just that, because in unison he and Ranjip and Darryl said, “Something wonderful.”

Vice President Paddy Flaherty entered the room. “Seth,” he said, starting toward the president.

Susan Dawson, still in the spare wheelchair, rallied some strength and spoke for the first time since they’d arrived at the infirmary. “Mr. Vice President, sir, turn around and walk out that door.”

“What’s wrong?” Flaherty asked.

“You have to get out of here,” Susan said.

Flaherty continued to close the distance between himself and Jerrison.

Susan drew her sidearm and aimed it at Flaherty. “Mr. Vice President, freeze!”

Paddy Flaherty stopped. “Are you insane, Agent Dawson? Stand down.”

“No, sir,” said Susan. “The president is compromised, and so my job is to protect the line of succession. Leave this room at once.”

“Young lady,” Flaherty said, “you are making a huge mistake. Director Hexley will deal with you personally, no doubt, and—”

“Get him,” said Seth.

Flaherty turned to look at the president. “What?”

“Get him,” Seth said again. “Get Leon Hexley—right now.”

Chapter 49

A Boeing E-4 Advanced Airborne Command Post had been dispatched to Andrews from the 1st Airborne Control Squadron out of Offutt Air Force Base, near Omaha. Secretary of Defense Peter Muilenburg saluted the soldiers he passed as he walked toward the plane.