A Heartbeat Away

CHAPTER 67

Wide-eyed, Ellis fixed on the president as he ascended to the rostrum and moved forward until he was only a few feet from her.

“You’re finished, Madam Speaker,” he said loudly enough to be easily heard through the PA system. “You have done as much damage and created as much chaos as the terrorists. And it ends now!”

The president signaled to Sean O’Neil, who was still beside the door that Allaire had come through. One by one, a small procession of sick and hobbled men and women began shuffling into the House Chamber. Their complexions were ashen. Many of them were smeared with blood. Some of them were clearly disoriented, bewildered, and agitated. They coughed as they marched. Some had to stop to breathe. Those who were too weak to walk unaided were assisted into the chamber by Secret Service agents and the Capitol Police.

At virtually the same moment, a second, larger procession entered the chamber from Statuary Hall. This group, headed by a muscular African-American man with a military bearing, wearing only surgical scrubs, was in less frightening shape than the other, but they were still obviously failing.

The final two people to enter the chamber came from the Senate. They walked shoulder to shoulder, although one of them moved with great difficulty and needed to be supported by the other. Vice President Henry Tilden, the weaker by far of the two, was a phantom—battered, stoop-shouldered, and gaunt. His face was badly clawed and smeared with dried and drying blood. Supporting Tilden was a tall man in a blue biocontainment suit. Glare off the faceplate of his helmet made it impossible for Ellis to identify him. He held a blue plastic cooler in his gloved left hand.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ellis shouted into the microphone. “Those are the sickest of all of us. You are bringing death into this room. People around the world are witnesses.”

Allaire’s expression was one of disgust.

“No, Ursula. What they are witnesses to is your madness. Vice President Tilden and others are prepared to swear that it was you who locked him in the Senate Chamber to die or be killed.”

The crowd erupted into a chorus of angry and confused shouts. Allaire banged Ellis’s gavel to settle them down. He then continued, still extremely shaky, but managing to address the assembly with the mannerisms of a president.

“These people have been brought out from the Senate Chamber, and those from Statuary Hall, because we now have the means to treat them—and all the rest of us as well.”

“Lies!” Ellis screamed. “He’s telling all of us lies. The madness is in this man! He is badly infected with the virus and is about to be relieved of his duties as president. Ask Dr. Townsend, his physician. She knows that the virus has attacked his mind.”

“Yes, the virus is affecting me more each hour,” Allaire said. “And yes, I chose to refrain from broadcasting its terrible effects. But I did so to keep all of you from panicking while we worked around the clock to find a cure. I did not mislead you because I wanted to deceive, but because I felt in my heart that I had a duty to protect you.”

“Don’t believe this insanity,” Ellis bellowed. “The bill must be passed if you want to live. The cure is with Genesis, and only I have access to it!”

Allaire glanced over at his wife and daughter.

“Genesis, whoever they are, doesn’t have any cure, Ursula,” Allaire said, patiently. “They never did. They are thieves and terrorists. They don’t have the technology, or capability, to deliver treatment for a virus this complex. My administration created this nightmare in the misguided hope that we could do away with all forms of torture. We developed the WRX virus, and we are the only ones capable of stopping it.”

“You’re lying.… You’re lying…,” Ellis kept repeating, but there was no longer any force behind her words.

“Genesis needed to buy time, Ursula. Time for us all to die. So they played you. They used your pathetic lust for power to turn you into their puppet. We have the cure. That’s why I have brought all these brave people back into the chamber—to prove to you that soon the infection will be a thing of your past. Soon we can begin to repair our lives. And we have one person to thank for that.”

Allaire gestured to the man in the biosuit, who made his way slowly up to the rostrum. Then the man released the clasps and Velcro holding on his helmet, and eased it off, exposing himself to the contaminated air they were all breathing.

The man had a worn, grizzled face, but his eyes were bright. It took a few seconds for Ellis to place him. But when she did, it was as if an icy hand had gripped her heart.

The man was Griffin Rhodes.