"Looks like you were right."

Josh swallowed his last bite of pecan tart and looked up. "I'm sorry?"

The President stood tall and took a step into the room. "I just received word from Lyle Edmonds at the USGS: Mount St. Helens erupted at 6:50 p.m. Pacific Standard Time."

Josh's mouth went dry. He'd warned the President about the imminent explosion several times throughout the day. He had a difficult time keeping his expression neutral, but this was no time for I-told-you-so.

"We need to start with the facts," he said instead.

Santos nodded. "I'll call Lyle back when I get to the Oval. In the meantime, I want Gloria Vincent on the phone. We need FEMA, the Army Corps of Engineers, and about ten guys from the USGS talking to us within the hour."

"I'll get the governors of Washington, Oregon and Idaho as soon as possible." Josh stood and wiped his brow. "We should probably get Watkins to make an appearance."

"What about Forest Services and the FAA?" The President looked uneasy as he began walking toward the door.

Josh was right behind him. "I'll call them after I get a hold of the guys at the CVO."

Santos stopped. "The CVO?"

"Cascades Volcano Observatory," Josh replied, clenching his jaw.

"That's where Hubert Kaplan worked for ten years."

The President lowered his head for a moment, then quickly lifted it and looked Josh in the eye. "Get him back here. I want to know how in the hell he knew what the other experts didn't."

The First Lady and Donna were all but forgotten in the dining room until Donna stood. "Josh?"

He put his hand on the door jamb and looked back.

"Sam," Donna said.

Josh's face dropped, and he swallowed hard. "Sam."

CUT TO:
INT. TAXI, WALLA WALLA, WASHINGTON

The taxi driver laid on his horn for half a minute. "These people have no clue how to drive! Look at this one," he yelled in a thick Middle Eastern accent. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Use your signal, crazy lady!" he bellowed out the window.

"How ironic," Ainsley whispered. "I thought cabbies were supposed to be the terrible drivers." She adjusted her seatbelt and clutched the Coach bag in her lap.

"Are you saying this guy is good? I think I might have whiplash." Sam rubbed his neck.

Ignoring his discomfort, she proceeded. "Did you know that nearly 60 percent of American drivers don't use their turn signals when changing lanes?"

"I did not know that." Sam loosened his tie.

"And do you know why the majority of them don't use their signals?" Ainsley asked, settling back into the ripped leather seat.

He turned his attention back to his travel companion and smirked. "No, but I'm sure you're going to educate me."

"It is because they are lazy," she said matter-of-factly.

Sam creased his eyebrows. "People are too lazy to lift a small lever with their index finger?"

"Yes, they are." She smiled. "And do you know..."

Ainsley was interrupted mid-sentence by a strong jolt. She released her purse and grabbed Sam's leg. He tried to appear calm, but the knuckles on his left hand were turning white from holding the door handle so tightly.

"Was that what I think it was?" Sam asked the taxi driver when the tremor subsided.

"That was a big one," the cabbie replied, shaking his head. "Then again, we've had rumblings for a couple of months now." He turned the radio louder, and Bob Marley belted out a tune about one love.

"Are you suggesting that we just experienced a seismic event?" Ainsley released her death-grip on Sam's thigh.

"An earthquake, yes."

"Are you sure we didn't get into an accident?" She craned her neck to look at the stopped traffic behind them. "Because it felt like we were struck by a large vehicle."

"I'm from Southern California, Ainsley." Sam grinned as best he could. "I know what an earthquake feels like."

CUT TO:
INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE

Helen Santos stood and moved to where Donna was still seated. The younger woman looked paler than usual.

"You don't look so good." Helen bent to her eye level. "Is something wrong with Sam?"

"He's in Walla Walla," Donna replied, swallowing hard. "He and Ainsley Hayes were sent to the Northwest to represent the White House on some kind of lawsuit."

"And you're worried about him," Helen stated rather than asked.

Donna nodded and fiddled with the spoon next to her coffee cup.

"I was never really good at geography," Helen's maternal instincts kicked in, and she began rubbing the back of Donna's hand. "but I'm pretty sure Mount St. Helens is far enough away from Walla Walla for us not to be too concerned."

"You're right." Donna smiled and squeezed the First Lady's hand. "I know you're right, but it's Sam, you know?"

Helen nodded. "I know."

"If it's alright with you, I'd really like to be down there right now." Donna stood. "At least until we hear from him."

"Of course it's ok with me." Helen smiled.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Sure thing," she said. "And Donna? He's going to be fine."

CUT TO:
INT. PRESS SECRETARY'S OFFICE

Whistling a Billy Joel tune, Lester shoved two folders into his briefcase.

"Are you sure you're not white?" Lou asked from her position on his sofa.

"Just because I'm black doesn't mean I listen to rap music all the time." He zipped the briefcase.

"I'm white and I can't stand Billy Joel!" Lou shouted in a playful voice.

"You have zero appreciation for American singers and songwriters." Lester shot back.

"That's not true." Lou sat up. "I like Nine Inch Nails, Tool, and Jon Bon Jovi."

"One of these things is not like the other," Lester hummed the tune from Sesame Street.

"You're just full of song tonight, aren't you?" She grinned.

"It's the weekend, baby!"

As Lou was about to chastise him for calling her 'baby,' the picture on the TV behind him caught her eye. "Lester?"

Noticing her focus, he turned around and stared at the image. "What the hell?" He turned the volume up.

"This just in," the newscaster said. "At approximately 6:50 pm, Mount St. Helens erupted into a fit of steam, ash and lava. We don't have any details at the moment, but this is a live video feed from the Johnston Ridge Observatory. Again, breaking news, folks: Mount St. Helens has come to life."

"This is not good."

"Not good at all," Lou commented, still staring at the image on TV. "Have you heard any warnings about volcanic activity?"

Lester shook his head.

"I know Josh had a meeting today with a scientist." Lou's mind went into overdrive. "Holy crap! Did Josh know about this possibility and not tell anyone?"

"Now you're jumping to conclusions."

"The hell I am." She stormed out of her press secretary's office and headed down the hallway at a faster pace than usual.

CUT TO:
INT. MARCUS WHITMAN HOTEL AND CONFERENCE CENTER

Sam and Ainsley rushed into the hotel to find a group of people gathered around a flat panel television mounted high on the wall. The image before them was almost surreal. Black smoke was spewing from a volcano, and the sides of the mountain were crumbling.

"I know you and your husband have spent your summers near Spirit Lake, Kim," a reporter said from the Channel 5 news studio. "Any word on damage or life loss in that area?"

"It's too early to tell, Henry," the female reporter said from her post somewhere in a dense forest. "The death toll could be in the hundreds if not thousands. With no warning and no mandatory evacuation, things could get very ugly, very fast."

Sam cringed. "Tell me that's in Asia."

SMASH CUT TO MAIN TITLES