Saturday August 8, 2026 [8/8 +0]
Arlington, United States of America
“William! Victoria! We have to go now!”
Sheridan Kelly frantically tugged on the shoes of her 3-year-old daughter while her 7-year-old son was putting his on by himself. Just then, the motorcade showed up at her doorstep on her normally quiet suburban street.
Secret Service agents poured out of the jet-black SUVs and approached the house, as police officers exited their patrol vehicles and secured the area.
“What the hell is going on?” Sheridan demanded as the first pair of agents approached the front door.
“Ma’am, I cannot say too much at this point. Though it is imperative that you and your family come with us right away,” said the serious-looking agent at Sheridan’s doorstep.
“We’re going to the White House, right?” asked 7-year-old William, standing by his mother’s side.
“Yes, son. And we need to go right away.”
Sheridan shepherded her family into one of the motorcade’s SUVs and the entire convoy immediately took off to the White House, which was fifteen minutes away.
As the motorcade drove with flashing sirens along Arlington Avenue, Sheridan rapidly scanned her phone’s text and email messages as well as the top news of the hour.
And the text message that led to her travelling to the White House at breakneck speed:
“Ma’am, if you would, please refrain from calling anyone at this time. You will be briefed once we get to the White House,” the Secret Service agent in the passenger seat told her sternly.
“What’s going on?” Sheridan asked. “What is your name?”
“I am Agent Aaron Harvey,” he said. “What is going on is that everyone in the Presidential line of succession, including their families, are being gathered at the White House as we speak. This phenomenon that has taken place may have affected the United States government at the highest level.”
“And what is this phenomenon? People falling unconscious for no apparent reason? Is this a biological attack? A chemical attack? And where is the President?”
Agent Harvey paused, a twitch in his face betraying emotion beneath his professionally stoic mask.
“Ma’am, the President remains where he was all last night. In the President’s Bedroom. No matter what we do, we cannot wake him up this morning.”
