by E S Richards
“What’s your plan for dispatching the troops?”
“I’ve got men working in the hangar as we speak. We need to figure out if we can get a bird in the sky, at least get an aerial view on the city. With all the satellites and outside communications down we’re still sitting blind.”
General Shepherd spoke quickly, his mind racing through what needed to be done. He’d never been faced with a scenario where all communications were down, the runners frantically being sent from place to place as a result. What worried him most though was how transport was being affected. He could control his men once they were deployed and on the ground, but waiting for a way to do so was driving him insane.
“Dispatching on foot will take time and I don’t want to put my men in any more danger than is necessary. Especially not until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. Have you received a status update?”
Wilson shook his head. There had been nothing since the most recent report Dixon had brought to him, but it was easy enough to figure out what had happened since then. “No, but if the power isn’t back on now I think we can safely assume it won’t be for a while. Our engineers are working on the backup generators, but I haven’t heard a status update on that yet either.”
“We should get a runner down there,” General Shepherd mused, turning to look at the group of soldiers waiting for his orders. “And one to the hangar too; I need those birds immediately.”
Wilson agreed, turning his head in the same direction as the General’s. “Dixon!” He called over to the soldier, knowing he could rely on the young man to see the job through.
“Farley! Croft!”
General Shepherd added two names to the mix and the three soldiers looked up immediately, each jogging towards the two men. They fell into line like a well-oiled machine, each raising their hand to their foreheads in a salute.
“Dixon,” General Shepherd took the lead, knowing he now was the ranking official for all the soldiers, no matter what their positions had been an hour ago. “Go to the hangar, report back on the birds. We need them airborne pronto.”
“Yes sir,” Dixon saluted again before turning and jogging off in a different direction.
“Farley, make your way down to the generators. We need a status update on the power.”
“Yes sir,” another cadet saluted and jogged in a second direction.
“Croft, find out if we still have any men out on patrol. I want everyone back here and accounted for within the hour.”
The final soldier confirmed, saluted, and did as Dixon and Farley had before him, running off to fulfil his duties. General Shepherd turned back to face Mr. Wilson, his brow furrowed as he ran over the list of everything he needed to do.
“Have all the staff been briefed on the contingency plan?”
“Yes,” Wilson nodded, “I made sure of it myself.”
“Good,” General Shepherd ran a hand through his closely shaven hair. “We need to get things moving down here.”
***
Dixon was dripping with sweat by the time he reached the hangar, its moderately secret location on the White House grounds the furthest point from where he had been waiting. The hangar was a fairly recent addition to the grounds; Dixon was lucky to be aware of its presence, his role reporting to Mr. Wilson as the President’s chief of staff affording him such a luxury.
It had only been built the previous year, following a devastating grease fire that started in a local restaurant and spread all the way from the metro almost to the Reagan Building. After the fire and due to the rising tension between the United States and North Korea, the hangar had been built as a precaution, designed as an easy escape route should President Bruce ever require it. Dixon had never been inside however and so his mouth dropped open as he jogged inside to see four large helicopters, dozens of soldiers and engineers gathered around each one.
The two Bell Boeing V-22 Ospreys were the vehicles Dixon was most familiar with. He’d ridden in quite a few of the military transport crafts during his tours, never forgetting the final journey he’d made in one as he bled out slowly from the gunshot wound in his knee. A Sikorsky CH-53K King Stallion sat on one side of the more familiar birds, Dixon recognizing it as the heavy lift helicopter they used to do resource drops. It was another he’d travelled in before, although on far fewer occasions. The final vehicle was reserved only for executive transport and Dixon could see why. The Lockheed Martin VH-71 Kestrel shone brightly even in the unlit hangar, its markings designating it as President Bruce’s own bird.
His eyes finding a ranking officer amongst the soldiers, Dixon moved swiftly towards her, focused on the job at hand.
“Corporal,” Dixon said and he stood in front of the woman, saluting and waiting for her to return to the gesture.
“What is it, Private?” she asked, returning the salute and therefore allowing Dixon to lower his arm.
“Status update needed, sir, for General Shepherd.”
The corporal straightened at Dixon’s name-drop of the general, recognizing the question had come from the very top. She adjusted her uniform slightly and looked back over her shoulder, reviewing the men and women who continued to work behind her.
“Birds seem to be in working order,” the woman spoke professionally though her eyes bounced around the hangar rather than resting on Dixon’s. “They should be suitable to fly, although we’ve heard reports of vehicles exploding on the street.”
Dixon waited quietly for her to continue. He didn’t know a great deal about the mechanics of helicopters, or of anything for that matter, and he knew it wasn’t his place to be asking questions. It was up to the corporal to determine whether the birds were cleared for flight. He was only there to take the news back to the general.
“The engineers have stated the Osprey’s best for a test flight,” the corporal continued, “though we recommend minimal numbers on board in case of a crash. Engines could overheat; we think that’s what’s happening in the streets.”
Dixon waited a moment longer, making sure the woman had finished her update. “Yes, sir,” he said eventually with another salute, eager to get the news back to General Shepherd.
“Have another runner return with orders,” the woman said as she returned the salute. “My pilots are keen to get back up in the sky.”
“Yes sir,” Dixon repeated again before spinning on his heel and marching out of the hangar, only breaking into a jog when he was back outside.
As Dixon ran back through the White House grounds towards General Shepherd, he thought about what he’d heard. Engines exploding. That didn’t sound good and as much as seeing the familiar helicopters had filled him with excitement, Dixon was wary about flying in one after hearing the news.
His ears started to pick up more sounds of terror as he ran the perimeter, the street almost visible through the gaps in the high hedges and fencing that circled the grounds. Immediately he knew what the corporal had been talking about; a yellow cab was wrapped around a lamppost less than fifty meters away, its hood ablaze with flames.
Dixon’s pace slowed for a moment, his mind fully comprehending what he was looking at. It was only supposed to be a power outage; he’d suspected that it was probably worse, but he didn’t realize how crazy it had actually gotten so quickly. His duty taking over again, Dixon pushed his feet harder against the ground and ran towards where he knew General Shepherd would be awaiting his report. He’d wanted to get back into action and it looked like that was now guaranteed.
***
“Ah, Dixon,” Wilson smiled at the soldier as he drew to a halt in front of him. “General Shepherd is just inside with Farley.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dixon replied, slightly out of breath from his run back to Wilson and the general. He walked briskly up the steps to the door Wilson had pointed to, the older man following just behind.
Walking in, Dixon could see immediately that Farley’s status update had been positive. The emergency power was on, albeit not at full capacity. Dixo
n spotted Farley giving her debriefing to the general and waited just to the side, listening to the end of what she had to say.
“…can’t get into the bunker. Power is only allocated to the main centers, so we have followed protocol with where to send it, sir. They’re working on full power, but at the moment it’s just lights. Lieutenant Saunders said he’d send a runner if they have more news.”
“Good work Farley,” General Shepherd saluted his soldier, “you can fall out.”
“Thank you, sir.” Farley returned the salute before moving off to the side, making way for Dixon to give his report.
He told the general exactly what the corporal had told him, relaying the information word for word. General Shepherd’s eyes lit up somewhat at the news that they could get a bird in the sky, seemingly unaffected by the possibility of it crashing.
“Wilson?” General Shepherd spoke over Dixon’s head, inviting input from the other man before dismissing his soldier. “What are your thoughts on this?”
“We need a bird in the sky,” Wilson responded immediately. “We can’t go on much longer without knowing what’s happening across the city. Across the whole country for that matter. We should send one out—a small team to start with—just to get a view on our surroundings at least.”
“I completely agree,” General Shepherd nodded. “Ten should do it, I’d think. Best to have an extra pilot on too, but seven ground men should do the job.”
Dixon remained quiet while the two men spoke, knowing it wasn’t his place to join in with the conversation but also knowing he couldn’t leave until he was dismissed. He was impressed they were sending a helicopter out so quickly, especially as they all knew what could happen.
He couldn’t deny he was curious to see what was happening in the rest of Washington though, the glimpse of the yellow cab piquing Dixon’s interests. He could feel the reckless boy soldier coming out in him again and as much as he tried to fight it, Dixon couldn’t stop himself from asking the question.
“Sir,” he began firmly, directing his voice at General Shepherd and waiting for the man to acknowledge him before continuing. “I’d like to go up, if I may. In the bird. I’ll be part of the team.”
General Shepherd and Wilson both stared at Dixon for a moment, neither man saying a word. Wilson’s eyebrows rose slightly, questioning Dixon with his gaze. He knew exactly the reason why Dixon was now assigned to a government role and he knew what the soldier could be like in the field. It was General Shepherd’s decision though, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Fine with me soldier,” the general spoke eventually. “Take Farley with you, and Croft too. Get the rest of the men from the hangar—three pilots—and I want Corporal Lawson up there with you.”
“Yes sir,” Dixon nodded, realising he never had gotten the corporal’s name earlier.
“Do a quick recon around the city but I want wheels back on the ground within sixty minutes. Then report straight back here.”
“Yes sir,” Dixon agreed again, his hand this time flying to his forehead in a salute.
He wasn’t completely sure why he had just volunteered for this mission, knowing full well he could end up tumbling to the ground in a ball of fire. But he couldn’t help himself. As the general dismissed him and Dixon ran off to find Farley and Croft, a wide grin crept over his face. He was going back up in an Osprey and he was going to see what was really happening to the world.
Chapter 3
“The lake is this way though,” argued Len. “Surely that’s where we want to go?”
Harrison shook his head. “We’re better off staying on land; it’s easier to predict. If we use the lake to travel then we have to rely on too many other things we can’t control. What if we run out of fuel? Providing we can even find a boat that is. And what if we get stranded? Or swept off course? You ever navigated a boat before? It’s not always smooth sailing you know.”
“But we’ll save so much time!” Len threw his hands in the air in frustration. He’d been having the same argument with Harrison for some time now and the older man just wouldn’t budge. “Why would we walk all the way around the lake, when we can just go across?”
“Look. Just because you found a couple of other people on a boat doesn’t mean there’ll be more scattered around waiting for us. In fact, it means they’re probably all gone. Enough people will have had the same idea by now.”
Harrison was adamant. He found it very unlikely the two of them would be able to find a boat and, even if they did, he was cautious about using one. He could sail fairly well and he knew how to drive a powerboat, but Harrison still felt a lot more comfortable on land. You could always run somewhere on land, always find somewhere to hide or escape to. On the water that’s literally all you had unless you fancied going swimming.
But Len wasn’t giving up and Harrison had to admit he understood his point. Crossing Lake Michigan by boat would save days of walking, which would also mean days of supplies saved and less exposure to the aftermath of the collapse.
“Right,” Len continued speaking, shrugging off his backpack and taking a swig from his canteen of water. “Why don’t we at least head to the lake and see if there are any boats there? I’m not saying we’ll necessarily board one, but it’s at least worth having a check.”
Harrison sighed deeply. He was already fed up debating with Len. After so many years of living alone, he wasn’t used to constant human interaction, let alone one where you had to fight for your point. Harrison had only had himself to please for the last twenty years, no family nearby and very few friends to speak of. The one on one contact was very quickly becoming a challenge for him; a challenge he hadn’t anticipated having to face when the end of the world finally happened.
“Fine,” he mumbled disgruntledly, “we’ll go and look. But that doesn’t mean we’re getting a boat. We’re just looking. Got it?”
Len couldn’t help but smile. Going toward Lake Michigan, to him, felt like going one step closer to his son. Cutting across the water would save them so much time and that was all Len was really concerned about. Besides, he’d found Jen and Freddie on the water and that could only be described as a good experience. He was confident this was the right decision.
Changing their path, the two men started circling around to the water’s edge. Although Len had chosen the direction, he still let Harrison lead the way, the older man somehow knowing the perfect route for wherever they wanted to travel.
Len couldn’t deny his internal compass was already spinning wildly. They weren’t even completely out of Chicago yet and still his surroundings looked vastly unfamiliar to him. It was a big city after all, and now that James lived far away Len didn’t really have much reason to go exploring on the weekends. He drove to work five days a week, drove home five days a week, and when he finally had a day off he was more than happy to spend it relaxing at the local bar or just with his feet up on the couch.
He could tell that he and Harrison were cutting through one of Chicago’s scattered parks—probably one of the larger ones for that matter—but he couldn’t even begin to remember what it was called. A sobering thought came over Len that by the next time he returned to Chicago, it could be even more different than it was now.
Beyond somehow finding James and Amy, Len hadn’t given much thought at all to what they would do. He desperately hoped that South Haven was in a better state than Chicago and his ex-wife and son would simply be sitting in their front room, watching television reports on what had happened to his city. The realist in him told Len to stop being naïve, but the optimist couldn’t help but hope. He pictured himself walking into Amy’s house, a cup of coffee waiting for him on the counter while he shared a loving embrace with his son.
How Amy would receive him was another question to which Len hadn’t given much thought. For once in his life he was acting almost entirely on gut instinct, a vast change from the timid, over-thinking businessman he was a week ago. But the fact was that Amy was still his ex-wife. They
weren’t exactly on the best of terms, the majority of their relationship now just for the benefit of their son.
Chicago crumbling to ruins around him had changed Len’s opinion of his marriage somewhat. It had made him realize who the people were that he cared most about and Amy was definitely still in the top two.
Thinking about their divorce, Len could finally accept and shoulder the vast majority of the blame. He’d been the one working late every night, chasing that promotion that never came to pass. He’d missed countless family dinners, school gatherings, and even forgotten about an anniversary dinner once. Not to mention what his attitude was like when he did finally get home at night. When he put some real thought into it, he was surprised Amy hadn’t left him sooner.
It was funny now, how after all that Len realized that his job meant very little to him. He wasn’t the slightest bit concerned about the state of his office building, how most of his co-workers were, or the big presentation he was supposed to give that week. All that mattered was his family and he knew he was a fool for not realizing it when he still had a chance to keep them.
