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House and the Jefferson Memorial.
    “Wow,” George solemnly said. “Within a half-mile radius of ground zero, it looks like everything is vaporized—cars, buses, trees, buildings, and people—there’s just nothing left. It’s as if everything was instantly fried and blasted into tiny molecules of radioactive debris. There’s not much sense searching for survivors in there.”
    “Yeah, and there’s not a single building standing within a mile—everything is totally flattened,” responded the major. “If anybody survived in that zone, it’s a miracle.”
    “From what it looks like, a lot of buildings outside of that are so damaged, they’re going to have to be razed. But there could be survivors in there. Maybe that’s where we should concentrate our search.”
    “Yeah, I hate to just give up on the other areas, but I guess it’s a numbers game. We have to expend our resources where there’s the best chance to find the most people alive and reachable. The area around ground zero is so hot, we can’t safely put rescue parties in there.”
    “How many do you think died in the initial blast?” George asked.
    “I don’t know. I heard a preliminary estimate of 125,000 but I don’t know who came up with that number.”
    “Whatever the number is, it will probably double later from injuries and radiation poisoning. Let’s head up to Capitol Hill,” George suggested. “I want to see if there is anything left up there.”
    The Predator flew over the remains of the Capitol Building. Congress had been in session at the time of the blast, and 397 senators and representatives were killed or missing. Likewise, the Supreme Court had been in session and, apparently, none of the justices survived.
    It appeared as though the flash had initially seared the Supreme Court Building and the office buildings of the Senate and the House of Representatives, and then the concussion blasted the remains thousands of feet down range. George saw huge chunks of blackened granite a half mile from the remains of the Capitol building.
    George and the major carefully studied the footage for any sign of survivors. “Whoa!” said George pointing at the video screen. “I think I saw some movement over there in that rubble. What is that area? The Senate office complex?”
    The major centered the gyrostabilized camera on the location George indicated and read the GPS coordinates from a display on the console. “Yeah, it’s what left of the Russell Building. Let’s zoom in for a closer look.”
    “Right there!” said George, pointing to the screen. “Someone is crawling out…it’s a woman!”
    “It sure is! Good eyes, George! She must have been on the underground train between the Capitol building and the office building when the blast went off. There’s no other way she could have survived!”
    George yelled across the room to an army first lieutenant manning the search and rescue radio. “Call in the SAR helicopter,” he ordered. “Give them the exact position—the Russell Senate Office Building so they can minimize their exposure time in the radiation zone.”
    “Yes, sir. SAR helo is on its way,” answered the lieutenant.
    The major turned to George. “Since Reagan National and Andrews are both unusable, they’ll airlift her to a staging area outside the danger zone. Local hospitals are flooded, so depending on her condition, they’ll fly her out of Dulles or Baltimore to another area of the country for treatment.”
    After the SAR helo picked up the woman and left the area, George and the major continued to search the rubble for another half-hour with no luck.
    George grew frustrated. “There’s just no way to find anybody in this mess! If they’re buried in the rubble, we’ll never see them, and if they’re not, they’re nothing but charred bones.”
    “I have to take a break,” said the major, motioning to the army first lieutenant to take his place at the Predator controls. “I can’t look at any more