Midnight by Anna Dove (books for new readers .TXT) 📕

After the execution of the contract, Mr. Granger found that his bank account was much more pleasant looking and he strode with a much brighter outlook on life, a cheery disposition that others found quite unnecessary.

Mr. Granger was responsible for distribution in Harford County, of the federally commissioned paper called U.S. News. He was one man in a network of many, distributing the same paper across as many counties in the United States as possible. The acting federal government had deemed this a wise step, to promote information about the progress of infrastructure construction and provide citizens without radios the same benefit as those in possession of one. This was actually a very bright idea, as the spread of information helped Americans to realize that their country still existed, and that the United States had remained United throughout the worst terror attack in history. The paper included country-wide updates, some international news, a crossword section to promote the illusion of normalcy, and an address to which responses or queries could be mailed. The paper avoided such topics as death counts, food shortages, contaminated water, prisons, and hospitals.

This early morning of August 22nd, the newspapers were dropped off in the mailboxes as usual, each newspaper tied up with neat little strings. Haley woke up early. Her family was gone at a nearby farm working with others on the butchering and equal division of some cows. Haley took a walk around the block and retrieved the newspaper as she passed their mailbox coming back. She opened it as she continued walking, but stopped in her tracks as her eyes rested on the headline of the front page.

At 3pm EST on Radio, Attorney General to Announce Suspect behind EMP Terror Attack.

Haley re-read the giant black sprawling letters, and then raced back to the house and burst into the dining room, where Jack, Carlos and Elizabeth all sat beginning their breakfasts.

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Adela woke up under her soft white bedding to the sun streaming through the window. She stretched leisurely, looking up at the White House bedroom ceiling above her four-poster bed. Everything was white; the walls, the ceiling, the covers, the furniture, the rugs--all blinding, pristine white, as if it were a sanitarium hiding under the ruse of  Victorian decor and expensive fabrics.

Adela asked that her breakfast be brought to her, and when it came she took it in bed, sipping on orange juice while reading a bit. Then she called for her stylists to come dress her and do her makeup and hair, and by the time that was done it was nearly eleven.

There was a knock on the door and Adela banished her stylists from the room and then peered through the peephole. A smile crept to her lips and she opened the door, and Reed stepped into the room.

“Morning.” He kissed her.

“Good morning.”

“I just came to say hello. I have a good feeling about this day.”

“And why is that?”

“Did you forget? The Attorney General announces his decision today.”

“Ah,” said Adela, shaking her head. “Yes, I had forgotten. I have been preoccupied with planning.”

“3pm, in the briefing room.”

Reed left, and Adela went to her drawer of jewelry, and took up a diamond choker, fastening it around her slim neck. She sat down facing the mirror behind her jewelry drawer and looked at herself musingly. Slim neck, sparkling diamonds. Lips red as blood. Curve of the cheek, flash of the eye.

The West Wing White House Briefing Room was alive by noon. It was a warm, humid, drizzly August day outside, typical of Washington in August, and as the media technicians and journalists came in and out of the room, they grew increasingly sticky from sweat and misting precipitation. Each person was on edge; they snapped at each other, pushing and shoving a little, trying to get their setup done in time. Collars were unbuttoned, cheeks flushed, hands slipped on the wires; but by two in the afternoon they were done, and all radio signals were tuned in to hear the announcement soon to come.

On the half hour, Adela came down the stair and into the East Room, looking up at the original portraits of Martha and George Washington, who stared back at her with grim expressions.

“Taking a moment to appreciate history?” questioned a voice behind her, and Adela turned to find her husband there, in a handsome suit. He smiled at his wife, who stood tall and looked very elegant in her blue trousers and chiffon blouse.

“I never get tired of this room,” said Adela sweetly, and took his arm.

“Me neither,” said the president. “It is the best thing in the world, to be living here. Do you regret it now, Adela?” he asked suddenly, turning to her with a very open and frank expression. “Are you still unhappy here?”

Adela met his gaze.

“No, my dear,” she said softly. “It is the best thing in the world, as you say, to live here.”

“We must both work very hard to make sure this country stands back up on its feet. To think that we were this close, this close, to having it all taken from us. I’m so sorry, my dear. You are such a brave woman and I admire your strength through these past months. I know I haven’t always been the kindest person, but I promise that I will always respect you from now on, and take what you want into account.”

“Oh, never mind the past. The past, it is a strange thing, it fades with each breath. I’ve drawn a great many breaths now, and I’ve left much behind.” She smiled at him. “As do all presidents, all first ladies, we all move on from our pasts, and we focus on the present and the future. That’s our job.”

“Well said,” remarked the president. “Now, I’ve got to run--they may want my remarks after this briefing,