9:00 A.M.
FLOOR 18
UNITED NATIONS SECRETARIAT BUILDING
FIRST AVENUE AND FORTY-SECOND STREET
NEW YORK CITY
Dellenbaugh felt his legs get kicked back by a powerful, invisible force, like a wind—and then he fell down onto his stomach—abruptly—and was thrown back like a toothpick in a hurricane.
The UN building shook violently—glass shattered along the west wall of the eighteenth floor as a concussive pressure slammed it invisibly, then came the sound of a distant explosion, and then others. The building was rocked, and screams mixed with the sound of shattering glass.
Emergency alarms wailed.…
Dellenbaugh caught himself by grabbing onto the wall.
The air was filled with screams as people were thrown through the air, across the room, down to the floor. When the percussion faded, the president got up and ran to the broken windows, as winds cut sharply across the wide-open suite of offices.
In the distance, he saw billowing silver-and-red smoke from explosions ripping high into the morning sky. He looked left and saw another plume of fire and chaos. Sirens roared from inside the building, and fires raged in the vicinity of the explosions. Dellenbaugh looked in shock at the storm clouds. He was disoriented, but he realized it was the tunnels leading into Manhattan.
He still had his phone—he listened for Adrian King, but couldn’t hear anything except the faint echo of his name. He looked at the phone. It was red with wet blood. He reached for his ear and wiped his hand across it, then looked at it. It was covered in blood. He put the phone to his other ear. All he heard was sharp ringing—and the faint voice of his chief of staff.
“Mr. President!” said King. “Mr. President!”
“We’re under attack,” said Dellenbaugh.
“I know. We’re on our way, sir. But you need to get to the roof.”
“What about the explosions?”
“Don’t worry about that,” said King. “NYPD, FBI, everyone is on it. You need to think about one thing. Get to the goddam roof!”
“It’s easier to get to the airport in a car,” said Dellenbaugh.
“No longer an option, sir,” said King. “They’re coming after you. Do you fucking understand? They’re coming from below. Do you understand?”
Dellenbaugh felt nauseous. Vomit started pouring from his mouth. After several violent retches, he spoke again.
“Yeah,” said Dellenbaugh.
He looked at the people around him. Everyone had been dropped by the blast. Several people were moaning, and he saw a few unconscious after the shock wave.
“You okay?” said King.
“Yeah,” said Dellenbaugh.
Dellenbaugh looked down and saw thick wisps of blood in his throw-up.
“You can get to the roof?” said King.
“Yeah,” said Dellenbaugh, feeling a sense of stupor, even numbness. He absentmindedly put his hand to his ear, feeling the blood he knew was trickling out. “I got it.”