Madam President ✓

4. The Line Of Succesion

Tanya

I have never had a headache this bad in my life.

When I lift my fingers to a spot on my forehead, I see where the pain and blood is coming from. Oh god, oh god there's so much-

I force myself to slow down and think logically. For whatever reason, the United States capital building just blew up. Every single FBI agent, police officer, private investigator, EMT, and firefighter within a hundred mile radius will be called on- forced to come here regardless of whether they're on break or not.

If there is even a sliver of a chance, they will find me.

I'm afraid to sit up or move at all- for fear of accidentally shifting three stories worth of rubble and sending something crashing down on my skull.

Then I remember reading somewhere that if an explosion was bad enough, and the empty pocket you're stuck in doesn't have a clear way out (think a place to climb through the rubble, a hole that acts as a 'vent' of sorts) it'll be incredibly dusty and smoky hours later.

There is zero dust where I am. My hand immediately jolts to my pocket, where my phone was- and it's gone. I ignore the pounding in my heart and head, and sit up on my elbow to look around.

I won't be able to crawl through it. That much is clear. Then I look up- and what I see almost makes me cry. There is a hole. A tiny one- but one big enough to stick my arm through and wave.

I just have to get up there.

I finally register shouting off in the distance, though the words are unclear. The president crosses my mind first.... and then..... Katie.

Thinking her name is what gets me up. I half stand, half bend over, becoming claustrophobic in the tiny space with sweat pouring down my forehead.

Assessing the rubble further, I come to the conclusion that I'll be able to climb up just far enough to stick my hand out. Fuck.

I grab onto what looks like it used to be a support beam, now exposed. A few feet above, it branches off into sharp metal spikes- destroying any hope I had that there are more survivors, and solidifying the idea in my mind that my own survival, and my ability to walk right now- are fucking miracles.

This makes me climb faster, and I switch to a trapped concrete slab when one of the spikes slices my leg. Almost there, I tell myself. Only a few more feet to go and then I'm free.

Almost-

Upon climbing a wooden beam, it breaks and goes crashing down, leaving me hanging by another one.

For a few seconds I hang in fear, eyes wide, arms shaking. Then I tell myself: If you don't get out of here you will die and never know if your daughter's okay or not.

I furrow my eyebrows in concentration as I ignore the strain in my unused muscles. This will be the first- and the last pull up I ever do. Grunts of frustration escape my lips, yet nobody above seems to hear me. I use this as motivation and let myself scream until I'm at a level where I can flop my upper body forwards.

Holy Shit. I actually did that.

Panting, I give myself just a few seconds.

Then I see that I've gotten as far as I'll be able to. I stand on the beam, wrapping one arm around a pole for support, and lean forward. As a second thought, I rip my congressional pin from my jacket- grateful they gave us those early this year too.