Something seemed to tickle the back of his hands. "That sounds strange, George."
"Strange? Yeah, the whole world is strange. And now you've got nine minutes, Landry."
"On my way," he said, looking up again, as he always did, to the framed Globe front page from October 31, 1962, that hung on the pillar just behind George's chair. reds bomb DC, NYC; millions feared dead. A smaller subhead read: "Kennedy, First Family Perishes." And the first paragraph of the story: "The horrors of this past weekend's invasion of Cuba to attack Soviet missile sites struck home with an apocalyptic vengeance yesterday, with news that atomic bombs had struck Washington, D.C., and the outskirts of New York City, killing millions of Americans and destroying the upper reaches of the federal government. Military sources confirm that President John F. Kennedy and Vice President Lyndon Johnson perished in the attack. The whereabouts of Speaker of the House John McCormack---the next in line to the presidency---are not known at this time."
After his first six months here, shuddering every time he'd passed it, he eventually asked George why that particular front page was in such a prominent place. George had replied in that gravelly voice of his, "Why the hell not? It's news, ain't it?"
Carl turned and headed to his desk.
Reprinted from RESURRECTION DAY by Brendan DuBois by permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 1999 by Brendan DuBois. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Blood at the Root
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