administrative staff. I’ve sent a courier over with an offer to negotiate for their release.”
Doug thought he detected a note of relief in her voice. “Good. I’m going to give you a phone number that connects directly to my personal phone. Take it down, please.”
Doug wrote while she carefully read off the numbers.
“I’ve got it, Ms. Vice President.”
“It’s Mrs., please. I was married, you know. Now Doug—it is all right to call you Doug isn’t it?”
“Certainly ma’am,” he answered, feeling a sense of warm regard for the vice president course through him.
“Fine. Now then Doug, I’ve just been in contact with the brigade commander in Atlanta and ordered him to try his utmost to free the hostages without bloodshed, despite the havoc those people have caused. In a way, I can’t blame them.”
“Neither can I, Mrs. Vice President,” Doug responded. And deep down, he couldn’t.
“Good. Colonel Christian told me he had sent someone back to you with a courier you dispatched. Is he there yet?”
“Yes ma’am. Captain Saflin is standing by right now.”
“That’s wonderful, because I’ve temporarily lost contact with the colonel. Let me talk to the captain, please.”
Doug handed over the phone. “It’s the Vice President, Captain Saflin.”
He saw the officer stiffen as he listened, despite an expression that grew ever more disapproving the longer he held the phone. Finally he turned it back over to Doug.
“Doug Craddock, Mrs. Vice President.”
“Doug, I’ve given the captain orders to return and tell Colonel Christian to contact you as soon as possible and to follow your lead in the negotiations. Please try to get this settled without any more violence.”
“I’ll do my best, ma’am.” He hesitated, but felt he had to ask. “Ma’am, is there any chance these rumors about government involvement are true?”
“Doug, I can only say that from conversations I’ve had with the president and our national security director, the government was not involved. Now I’ve got to go. Do your best, and thank you for helping.
Call me if you need me.”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you.” He placed the handset back in the cradle and raised his brows at the captain, whose puckered cheeks looked as if he had a mouthful of alum.
“Mr. Craddock, apparently you have more political influence than the new military governor of Atlanta.
I’ve been ordered to tell the commander that you will negotiate with the rioters—and to bring him to your headquarters so that he can participate.”
“Fine. Get him back here as quickly as possible.” Doug grinned. “If I’m not here, send him over to the admin building. That’s where I’ll be.” He saw no good reason to inform the captain that if he had any political influence, this was the first he had heard of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
All the captives were crammed into the lobby of the administrative building. There were only two small bathrooms for them and people waited impatiently in lines. There was still no power to the building but fortunately the water system was working.
Amelia had just come from using the facilities, even though there was no toilet paper left and they had been forbidden to send anyone to the basement to have it replenished. She had found the lobby staff and got them to show her their paper files, then decided on her own which ones could be sacrificed to use as a substitute for paper in the bathrooms. It was very hot. Some of the men had stripped to the waist, but none of the women followed suit. She didn’t blame them, not the way the guards stared at them with eyes full of menace and anticipatory lust.
“I guess I’ll have to go stand in line soon again soon,” June remarked, pulling her blouse away from her chest and blowing air down inside.
“There’s too many people crowded in here,” Amelia said. “The bathrooms are getting filthy. I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to see if the guards will let me assign someone to keep them at least minimally sanitary.”
June nodded, but didn’t speak. She was deathly afraid for herself and the others and was worried sick about Doug’s safety. Had they taken the whole CDC complex? Had its defenders all been killed, or had some escaped? The guards brusquely repelled any requests for information. One woman had become hysterical and gotten a rifle butt in the face for her trouble. June remembered only snatches of the defense training she had very briefly participated in, firing her little pistol until the two clips she carried were exhausted. She had no idea whether she had hit anyone or not. After that she had begun nursing the wounded until they were overrun. An image of a man being gunned down as he tried to the last to keep them safe flashed through her mind. After that it had been mass confusion, with an influx of black men and women boiling through both entrances to the improvised treatment ward, shouting triumphantly, waving rifles and pistols, cuffing and clubbing everyone to the floor amid screams of fear and prayers to the Almighty. She had expected to die then, but surprisingly, only two persons had been shot, both of them so hysterical that they wouldn’t stop screaming.
Amelia returned a moment later. Blood was trickling from the corner of her lip where one of the guards had slapped her. It was beginning to swell. “So much for that. I guess they’ll stay dirty, but… June, when you go, would you please tell the people to try to clean up after themselves as best they can? Tell everyone to pass it on to the people in line behind them, too.” She searched her pockets for something to use to staunch the flow of blood but found nothing. She had to be content to wipe at it with her hand then smear it on the carpet.
June got up and stood in line until her turn came. When others came to stand behind her, she repeated Amelia’s request. Ten minutes later, she saw what Amelia had meant. Since her last trip, the conditions inside had deteriorated. She wet some of the copy paper she had brought with her to try wiping guck from soiled surfaces. Soon enough, she had to quit because of impatient sounds from those waiting to relieve themselves.
Amelia was dabbing at her lip with a handkerchief someone had found for her when June returned. All the way back she had seen one of the black guards following her with his eyes, a smirk of sexual innuendo giving an indication of what he thought would occur in the near future. She shivered despite the heat as she sat back down.
Amelia saw the look on her face. “Hold on, June. If it’s possible, Doug will rescue us.”
June felt tears gathering and brushed at her eyes. “Oh God, Amelia, he may not even be alive! I don’t think I could stand it if he’s been killed. I can’t go through that, not again. I love him so much.”
“Don’t give up hope. Remember, the rest of the people here are depending on us.” Amelia put an arm around her, hugged her for a moment, then stood up. “Stay here for a moment while I circulate and try passing out a little comfort and reassurance.”
June took a deep breath and fought back the tears. She felt ashamed of herself. So many people around the world had lost whole families, children included, and they had died in agony, most of them. At least if Doug…” She bowed her head and tried not to think of it.
Amelia was back a few moments later. She licked at her swollen lip and tried a smile. “I couldn’t do much. It hurts to talk. And I must look like an ogre.” She brushed her uncombed hair back behind her shoulders.
June suddenly saw the smirking guard moving toward them. She sucked in her breath, thinking this was probably the beginning of what would prove to be much worse than captivity in a sweltering room.
Instead, the guard touched Amelia’s shoulder.
“On your feet, white meat.” He laughed at his rhyme. “Get your pussy moving. The Preacher want to see you.” He grinned again, showing some missing teeth and looked directly at June. “You next, bitch. I put my name down for you.” He prodded Amelia with the barrel of his rifle. “Move!”
June started to feel her soul shrinking down into a place she didn’t want to go to. She bit her lip, then forced herself to sit up straight and find a reservoir of courage. She was a nurse, damn it, and with Amelia gone to God knew what fate, she was in charge. She couldn’t break down. She squared her shoulders and in a moment was back in control. She made a vow to herself that she would never let go again, no matter what. If Doug was dead, she would make him proud of the way she conducted herself, and if she lived… well, she would bear whatever came
