Glenn Kleier - The Last Day

“God, I bet the whole world is going apeshit right now,” Bollinger said. He was beginning to recover his journalistic senses. “I wonder if any of the networks here are back on line yet.” He pointed to an engineer. “Jimmy, see if we can get some battery power to the satellite link and let's try to get some updates out of here. Joe, where are you?” Joe's faltering voice emanated from the stairwell. “Joe, go up on the roof and check the dish. Somebody see if Israel Radio is alive and has anything on this.”

“Israel Radio is dead,” someone quickly reported back.

“The dish is fine,” Joe called down from the roof a few minutes later.

Whether by managerial brilliance or rote instinct, Bollinger's firm commands to his crew were remedial. Everyone, including Anke, pitched in to reassemble the operations. Patched together with batteries and cables, the WNN team was once more the first to get the story out. Their transmission lacked any video, and the audio quality was poor, but amazingly they were back on the air to the WNN European Bureau by 12:42 A.M.

To rejoin a world in uproar.

Hunter had succeeded in nursing a satellite TV monitor back to life, and as the team crowded around, a fuzzy picture and squawking audio relayed the tale. For forty-one minutes and forty-eight seconds, all anyone outside Jerusalem knew was that, at the designated hour of the new millennium, some supernatural calamity had struck the Holy Land. Just as had been predicted for so long, by so many. Forty-one minutes and forty-eight seconds was time enough to foment mass hysteria, suicides, heart attacks and assorted insanities on a global scale.

Everywhere, cathedrals, churches, synagogues and temples were breached by stampeding mobs seeking refuge from the wrath of God. Many were trampled or crushed to death. Random violence, lootings and rioting ignited spontaneously and unpredictably in major cities worldwide.

In Times Square, New York, the throngs of assembled revelers had panicked in the streets as they watched Jerusalem tremble, scream and fade to black on the giant Jumbotron video screen above them. In the ensuing onslaught on the subways, hundreds of hapless people were forced off the congested platforms onto the electric tracks and in front of oncoming trains. (Later that evening, inexplicably, the illuminated globe high atop Number One Times Square would short out all its lights and refuse to descend to the New Year.)

Feldman, his eyes fixed on these unsettling scenes of chaos, made a valiant effort to restore reason to the world. Suppressing pent-up emotions, in a calm and soothing voice, he sent his desperately awaited message of reassurance crackling out across the dark skies. Frantic engineers at WNN's European Bureau cobbled the audio together with file footage of the Holy City, rushing the report out to a rampaging world.

Mount of the Ascension, Jerusalem, Israel 2:27 A.M., Saturday, January 1, 2000

Feldman and crew maintained their transmissions until the batteries expired at approximately two-thirty A.M. Mideast time. Two of Bollinger's men had been able to make limited scouting expeditions out into the city. They confirmed by cellular phone that damage was extensive in many areas. However, given the apparent magnitude of the quake, casualties were relatively light. This had all been dutifully transmitted to the European Bureau.

After they'd done everything they could, after all the gear had been packed and stowed in the vans, Bollinger gathered the exhausted team and asked for their attention. Looking at their tired faces, the news director shook his head in reflective disbelief. “Gang, I can't stand here and pretend that I understand what went on tonight any more than you do. Maybe tomorrow, in the light of day, this will all make more sense.

“After twenty-six years in this business, I guess I'm not a particularly religious sort of person, but I have to confess that this whole thing has truly spooked the hell out of me, too. One thing I do know is that you were extraordinarily professional and calm during all of this, and I'm extremely proud of all of you.”

He looked over at Feldman, who was slouched wearily on the end of a couch with Anke. “And I don't know where you found this amazing young lady, Jon, but she's been a real trouper tonight, and we all thank you, Anke.”

There was a simultaneous murmur of agreement, to which Anke responded with a weak smile.

“A few things before we break camp,” Bollinger concluded. “I'm confident that at least some of our transmissions have been successfully received. Either way, there's no doubt headquarters is, at this very moment, rushing up additional support from Cairo. While the phone lines and electric are out, let's all stay close to our mobile phones, but use them sparingly so you don't waste the batteries. If repair crews reestablish communication links outside the region, I'll get word to you on what's happening in the world. Otherwise, plan on a staff meeting at the office at eight A.M. sharp.

“And Jon.” Bollinger called Feldman aside for a moment. “Since it looks like your departure for the States might be delayed a bit, maybe you'd consider sticking with us a few more days to help us sort through this new development.”

“Fine,” Feldman graciously agreed. “I don't start until next Thursday, anyway.” Besides, he didn't mind an excuse that would buy him a little more time with his new acquaintance.

Hunter stood next in line to talk with Feldman. “So, you're hangin’ with us awhile longer, eh? Great! We're gonna need you until all this dust settles!”

“Only for a few days,” Feldman confirmed.

Hunter nodded. “Look, you go ahead in the Rover and get Anke home, I'll take Cissy in her car. And, uh, I may be late to the meeting tomorrow.”

Feldman thought he understood and nodded. He'd noticed for some time the coalescing relationship between Hunter and Cissy. And he loved the way they teased one another mercilessly with underlying affection.

But there was more behind the intent, introspective look on the cameraman's face. This was not about Cissy.

It took Feldman over an hour to drive Anke the two and a half kilometers to her home, picking their way carefully down the mount through the throngs and around fallen debris in the streets.

Feldman was continually impressed with this remarkable woman. She had recovered quickly from her initial alarm and had worked relentlessly with the rest of the team in whatever capacity asked of her to get them back on the air. Now she sat quietly, interrupting her private thoughts occasionally to give a brief smile and point directions.

Fortunately, there appeared to be little damage to the northern section of town. When they arrived in front of Anke's contemporary white villa, it looked untouched.

Anke turned to him in her seat and put her hand on his. “Jon, please don't take this the wrong way …”

Here it came. He felt his gut knotting as he looked into that exquisite face. This sounded like the intro to a permanent farewell. It wasn't often that he'd been on the receiving end.

“But”-she dropped the other shoe-”I live by myself and I'd just prefer not to be alone right now.”

He was traveling the wrong wavelength and her words didn't register right away. He said nothing and she felt compelled to elaborate. “You see, there's a loft upstairs, and if you don't mind a pull-out bed, I'll wake you in time for your meeting and fix you a nice breakfast, and you can leave whenever-”

Feldman was up to speed finally, and so was his pulse. “Oh, absolutely, I wouldn't consider leaving you alone right now!” he insisted, quickly bolting from the car and slinging his carry-all over his shoulder.