“Fortunately, we have time to organize a massive evacuation of the population in that area using private vehicles and military vehicles provided by the combined armed forces. If Secretary McGovern is able to restore power in the region soon, I’m confident we can effectuate an eighty percent evacuation. However, without electric power, the gasoline pumps will not be working, and transportation will be effectively halted.”

There was a brief stir in the room and several loud comments, but the director of FEMA went on. “Especially troubling at this point are the numbers of confirmed reports of people who have died of heart attacks brought on by the fear and panic that we all must be feeling today. There are tens of thousands of them, and the hospitals are jammed to capacity. They are working off auxiliary power, but they can only continue for a limited time under these conditions.”

The secretary of agriculture spoke up. “Take us back to California for a moment, will you, sir? My people tell me that the crops in the San Joaquin Valley north and south of Fresno from Modesto to Bakersfield are already gone from the heat. Heaven knows what will happen if saltwater floods those farms. It may be years before they’re producing again.”

“It’s the same story in Oregon and eastern Washington, Mr. Secretary,” said the director. “Fruit trees are dying, and the land there is bone-dry.”

The agriculture secretary paused, then asked, “Even if you can get them out, how are you planning to feed the hundreds of thousands of people streaming inland from the San Francisco Bay and Puget Sound areas? What about shelter? Toilet facilities? This thing could get to be as bad as that mess in Rwanda a few years ago.”

“It’s difficult to imagine the magnitude of the problems we’re facing, Mr. Secretary,” the director of FEMA answered. “We were set up to deal with isolated emergencies as a supplement to existing infrastructures. Tonight, we will be forced to deal with hundreds of thousands of desperate people, many of them armed. We must evacuate them with a complete absence of electrical power.

“The air further inland is stifling hot and choked with smoke from forest fires. We have a shortage of rations, a shortage of tents, a shortage of doctors, and a shortage of containers for drinking water. We will be assembling crucial supplies all night and hauling them in truck convoys and military airlift to designated assembly points at first light.

“How to care for the displaced in the short term is a real challenge to all our systems. The long-term problem is simply beyond our capacity to consider. We can only pray that the law of the jungle won’t take hold of these frightened, desperate people before we can get our relief effort in place.”

Al Augustus turned to the director. “Thank you for your report.” Then he looked at the entire cabinet. “Thank you, all of you,” he said. “It’s getting late, and there is little more we can do tonight. But before we adjourn, we need one more critical piece of information.” He turned to the secretary of the treasury, who had been silent throughout most of the evening. “Secretary Wong,” Augustus said, “what are the financial implications of all this?” Then he caught himself. “But, first, James, do you have any word about your wife’s family?”