The president ran his hand down the front of his face and covered his mouth. He took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled into his hand, causing his cheeks to puff out.
The DNI continued. “Sir, the fiery debris from the collision rained down upon the Rockies just west of Denver. With the dry conditions, wildfires have broken out along the eastern slope of the mountains from Cheyenne Mountain north toward Fort Collins and south toward Pueblo.”
“What about in the east?” asked Chandler.
The president had to steady his nerves to get an assessment of New York City and the nation’s capital. Minutes later, his worst fears had materialized. Many millions were dead. Most of Washington, DC, had been obliterated, as was New York City. And fires from the superheated blast were spreading outward, devouring everything in their path.
Chapter Seven
Friday, October 25
Fair Oaks Mall
Fairfax, Virginia
On the upper level of the mall immediately adjacent to Dick’s Sporting Goods was an empty space being remodeled for a jewelry store. The interior was still under construction, but the glass wall units and display cases had already been installed. The exposed drop ceiling was partially in place, and the HVAC ductwork was in the process of being installed.
Peter needed a space that was completely unattractive to the looters or any refugees. An unfinished space with nothing to steal in it was a plus. One that was under construction with nothing to provide comfort to the refugees was a huge bonus.
First, he set about making it appear even less desirable. He broke out some of the glass windows at the front of the store. Then he gathered up some building materials that were ideal for what he had in mind to limit his exposure to any radioactive fallout that found its way into the mall through the breached entryways.
All of the glass cases and displays were covered in heavy-duty plastic sheeting. The six-millimeter-thick plastic was attached with duct tape, a case of which was found behind one of the counters. After he gathered up all of the plastic and duct tape, he secured it in the storeroom. Then he literally trashed the place.
He broke out most of the glass cases. He retrieved garbage from the large receptacles just outside the storefront and emptied the bags onto the floor. He took a neatly stacked pile of ceiling tiles and broke them in half before throwing them around the store’s interior as well as outside the entrance.
Anyone with an idle curiosity about what was inside the vacated retail space would immediately move on to more lucrative options. For Peter, it was perfect.
Once the space was adequately defaced, he set about covering the back wall with plastic to seal it off. Using the ladders left behind by the workers and the duct tape, he wallpapered the drywall with the sheets of plastic, sealing it up as airtight as possible. To enter the storeroom, he simply peeled back one corner of the sheeting near the single entry door and then resealed it from the other side.
He was able to lock the door to deter anyone from entering, and he used a flat-head screwdriver to jimmy open the lock when he needed access. It wasn’t a perfect place to hide out, but it was better than the other alternatives in the mall. It gave him a place of solace where the chaos within the mall was only a dull roar.
Until dawn, he managed a fitful sleep. His mind recalled the events as they unfolded. He fell asleep only to relive the nightmare again, except this time far more vividly, as if he were at ground zero himself.
He awoke with a start at the sound of voices inside the retail space where he’d been hiding.
“What’s back there?” a young man asked loudly. A flashlight illuminated the plastic sheeting, allowing a slight glow to appear through the crack beneath the locked door.
“Who gives a shit, man? Look at this place. If there was anything here, it’s gone now.”
The other man was persistent. The light swept across the door frame and then away. “Look at that plastic. It seems somebody put it up there.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Some construction worker did it. I’m leaving.”
Good idea, thought Peter as he pulled his handgun out of the sling pack. He sat up. Using his feet, he pushed himself away from the door toward the other end of the storeroom.
Peter sat in the dark with the gun pointed toward the door. He nervously held it with both hands. He knew how to kill. He’d done it in Abu Dhabi. But that was different. It was reactive. In the heat of the moment. A kill or be killed situation. Was he prepared to shoot a kid with a flashlight simply because he was scared of what the kid might do?
The plastic sheeting was rustling. One of the young men was slapping it with the palm of his hand. Then he heard words that made him sigh in relief.
“Screw it. I’m comin’.”
Peter closed his eyes and exhaled. He didn’t need the aggravation of shooting someone armed with a flashlight and a poor decision to indulge their curiosity. After a couple of minutes during which time several deep breaths led to calmed nerves, Peter opened the door and peeked into the store. Sunlight flooded the mall through the skylights. It was time to gather up a few things.
But should he? Peter began to weigh the risk of being exposed to the radioactive fallout versus going out of his semi-protective shelter in search of survival gear. If he didn’t leave the relatively safe confines of the storage room, everything he had on his mental wish list might be taken by others who were thinking along the same lines he was.
Peter pulled his tee shirt over his nose and mouth, hoping it would offer a modicum of protection against inhaling any radiation. His clothes were still
