Page 81 of The Presidents Shadow

SHOULD WE SIMPLY abort this plan?

At the moment my answer is a resounding… “I’m not really sure.”

After all, there are literally millions of human lives at stake.

Concentrate, Lamont. Meditate, Lamont.

Yes, I am the vessel of the unique powers taught to me by Dache. But I don’t need those superpowers right now. I need the power that exists in every single one of us—the power to dig deep inside and take control of our emotions.

I need to give myself a violent attitude adjustment. This is life and death we’re dealing with here. Get a hold of yourself, Lamont.

Keep going. Concentrate. Meditate. Adjust.

And so I do it. I cross over to courage.

Just in time.

Burbank’s monitors showing images of the campus are filling with tremendous close-ups of thick gray clouds and tiny patches of blackish-blue skies. Our fake flight is scheduled to land at Jorge Chávez International Airport, just outside of Lima.

At the time when the nonexistent plane should be descending, Burbank sends a message from a device cloned from Laksa’s cell phone that states: landing with joy in Lima. Gracias a Dios.

“What’s the plan now?” Hawkeye asks.

It is clear from his tone that he is overwhelmed with fright.

For lack of a better response, I say, “I don’t have a plan at this specific moment.”

What a cowardly response. What an unsatisfying account.

“We’ll have to wait and see,” I say.

This doesn’t stop Margo from commenting, “That’s what we’re doing, Lamont. We’re waiting and we’re seeing. But we are not moving forward.”

Now the screens are filled with even darker clouds. The gray sky has turned black, which at least has made some of the crowd still on campus begin to move faster. Jericho fidgets and stands, turns a few dials and presses some buttons, monitoring the skies for any unusual satellite signals.

Then Jericho makes an announcement that sounds like it’s coming from a man who’s falling off a cliff—loud, echoing, desperate.

“I’ve got something!” Jericho shouts, pressing his headphones to his ears. “I’ve got something!”

I do not say what I am thinking—if Jericho has picked up a signal, then Terrageddon has been unleashed… and a glance at the screen tells me there are far too many people still gathered on campus.

We prayed for the best. We hoped for a small amount of luck and safety. But we have failed—and when the blow lands, it is much stronger than expected.

“Oh, shit,” Tapper says, switching the screen to a view of the airport.

Burbank manipulates the video, causing the screen to widen as the view ascends. We now have a bird’s-eye view of the land below, from a high enough vantage point that we can see the actual outline of Peru.

Then we see what we never, ever wanted to see.

Mile-long chunks of the Peruvian coastline begin crumbling into the ocean.

The devastation moves inland, so fast that it will soon destroy the nearby cities of Callao and La Perla.

It is only a matter of minutes until it will consume the city of Lima.

Thousands of people will die. Great chunks of land fall away from the continent.

The campus is not safe. The airport is not safe. Peru is not safe.

Terrageddon has been unleashed!