Triggers

But maybe, just maybe, that would change now. He tried to shunt aside his own fear so that he could see Jerrison’s face contort, see him recoil from some invisible blow or explosion, see him, the president of the United States, be the first person holding that office in decades to walk in a soldier’s shoes, share a soldier’s burden, and feel a soldier’s terror at the things those back home had ordered soldiers to do.

Chapter 27

Susan Dawson spoke into her sleeve mike. “Get Singh in here right away!” She wheeled on Kadeem Adams. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” said Adams, but he seemed to be struggling to get even that single word out.

Susan looked over at the president, lying on his bed, his head propped up, his eyes wide with terror, sweat beading on his forehead. Dr. Alyssa Snow was listening to his chest with a stethoscope.

“Nothing my ass!” said Susan. “What did you do to him?”

But Kadeem’s eyes were closed and he was swaying erratically from side to side, as if having trouble keeping his balance. He hadn’t touched him. He hadn’t done anything, and yet—

“For God’s sake, Kadeem,” Susan exclaimed, “he’s recovering from heart surgery!”

She heard rapid footfalls in the corridor outside, and then the door burst open, revealing Ranjip Singh in the company of one of the Secret Service agents. Susan pointed at Jerrison. “Kadeem did something to the president’s mind, and now he’s having a seizure.”

Susan watched Ranjip turn to look at Kadeem, and she followed his gaze. Kadeem had his eyes scrunched tightly shut and was shaking his head rapidly in a small arc from left to right. His forehead was slick with sweat.

“Oh, shit,” said Singh, the first time Susan had heard him swear. He went over to Kadeem and guided him—Kadeem’s eyes were still closed—to the chair next to the president’s bed, and gently, almost lovingly, he eased Kadeem into it. And then he took one of Kadeem’s hands in his, light brown against dark brown, and, to Susan’s surprise, he reached over and took one of the president’s in his other hand, beige against light brown, and he stood between the two men, a human bridge, and he said, “All right, both of you, listen to me—listen to me! You’re having a flashback. It’s me, it’s Ranjip Singh, and you’re at Luther Terry Hospital. You’re home, you’re in the United States, and you’re safe. You’re safe!”

Susan started toward the bed; she didn’t like that Singh had brought Kadeem so close to Jerrison. But Dr. Snow motioned for her to stay back. Susan could see the sheet over the president’s chest heaving up and down. Above the rapid beeping of his heart-rate monitor, she could hear Kadeem whimpering softly.

“You’re safe,” Ranjip said again. “You’re safe. That was thousands of kilometers away and many, many months ago. It’s over. Kadeem, it’s over. And Mr. President—Mr. Jerrison—Seth—it’s over.”

Susan felt helpless—and furious; she never should have allowed Adams in here. Christ, he might end up as the guy who’d managed to succeed at what Gordo Danbury had failed to do. The president’s heart was still racing, and Dr. Snow was busily preparing a hypodermic.

“Take a deep breath,” Ranjip said, looking at the president, whose eyes were still wide, and “Take a deep breath,” he said to Kadeem, whose grip, Susan saw, was so tight now on Singh’s hand that it must be hurting them both. “Hold it in,” Ranjip said. “Just hold it, for a count of five: one, two, three, four, five. Now, let it out, slowly, slowly—that’s right, Seth, that’s right. Kadeem, you can do it, too: slowly, gently, let the air out, let the memory out, release it, let it go…”

There was an extended silence from the president’s monitor as his heart skipped a beat, and when that happened, Susan’s own followed suit. Dr. Snow looked at him with concern, but when the beeps started again, they were progressively further apart.

“Again,” said Ranjip. “Take a deep breath again, both of you. Relax. Now, concentrate on something peaceful: a clear blue sky. That’s it; that’s all—just that. The sky, blue and clean and bright; a beautiful summer’s day, not a cloud to be seen. Peaceful, calming, relaxing.”

It looked to Susan as though Kadeem’s grip was lessening a bit, and he’d stopped making sounds. The president’s eyes were no longer wide, and he was blinking rapidly—perhaps as he imagined looking up at a sunny sky.

Jerrison turned at last to Singh and seemed to recognize him. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

Singh nodded and let go of the president’s hand. He looked at Kadeem, and Dr. Snow immediately moved in and mopped the president’s brow. She then placed her stethoscope back on the president’s chest and nodded, apparently satisfied with what she was hearing.

Kadeem was shaking, Susan saw, as if he were freezing to death. Ranjip was now facing him directly. He took both his hands and looked straight into Kadeem’s eyes, which had finally opened. “It’s all right,” Ranjip said again. “It’s all right.”