by Bowman, Dave
Another man, this one with a deep voice, said, “You can end this. You know how.”
Muffled moans and cries.
Jack felt his pulse quicken, and a sense of dread rise up. They were torturing someone in there.
Before Jack could plan his next move, there was the sound of a sudden impact. The man had been hit again, maybe by something metal. It made a sudden cracking sound when it hit the guy's body.
Again, the man cried out in agony.
Jack felt the urge to flee. These people were dangerous, perhaps psychotic. They held a man captive and were taking no mercy on him.
Jack knew he had to get out of there. He made small movements, inching away slowly from the window. But then he froze.
Footsteps on the concrete floor inside the office. Someone was walking slowly across the room, taking their time. They wore shoes that made a clicking sound as they walked. They sounded like boots to Jack.
As the footsteps grew louder, Jack cringed. The man was walking toward the wall where Jack hid.
Had they heard him?
Was he going to be sitting in that room next?
Jack held his breath. On the other side of the wall, the man took a tool from a hook. The sharp sound of clanging metal rang through the air.
“No! Oh, God, no! Please, no, no, no!”
The man was begging for mercy.
The man with the loud shoes kept walking.
“No, please –”
The metal instrument whistled as it was swung through the air. A sharp, sickening sound could be heard as it hit the guy. Jack felt the nausea rise in his own body as he imagined the pain of being hit by that tool.
But still, he used the noise from inside as cover to mask his own movements. Slowly, Jack moved farther from the window. He wanted to get out of there fast, but he had to be cautious.
On the other side of the wall, it sounded like the man had fallen to the floor with a dull thud. There was a gurgling sound for several seconds, then he muttered something.
“What's that, Bobby? I can't hear you,” a mocking voice asked. This was a new voice, maybe from the guy with the boots.
More gurgling. Then the man tried his best to speak. “I swear, I don't know where they are. I'd tell you… I swear. I don't know anything.”
There was silence for several long moments. Jack wondered what was going on inside. Maybe the man was dead.
Jack waited. He kept totally still. It was too quiet. Any little noise he made from walking on the gravel outside would be heard by the people on the other side of the wall.
Finally, there was the noise of the man walking in his boots again. He mumbled something in a low voice. Jack couldn't hear him.
“I – I don't know anything,” the victim croaked from the floor.
“Take him out back,” the man with the boots said. “I don't want any more mess in here.”
Jack again felt himself tense. He could barely feel his limbs, but he clenched his gun as well as he could.
He advanced along the exterior wall of the building as the men inside moved to grab the guy off the floor, who was apparently still alive. He was mumbling something, begging for his life.
These guys were ruthless.
Jack guessed they were dragging him outside to shoot him. The man with the boots stayed in the office, Jack realized with disappointment. Obviously the leader of the group, he didn't want to get his hands dirty. But that was bad news for Jack, who had hoped to somehow get to the keys inside. He'd have to give up on that idea, though. There were too many of them, and they were too dangerous. The Pathfinder wasn't worth dying over.
He heard them drag the guy toward the back door which opened into the yard behind the office. That was good. That meant the weren't going out the side where Jack was.
But he wasn't in the clear yet. He didn't know how he'd get away from the place without being seen. For now, he just needed to start moving while there was noise inside to cover up any sounds he made.
Jack made it to the wall that ran away from the office. With each step away from the office, he felt he could breathe a little better.
Now they were dragging the bloodied guy off in the opposite corner of the yard. Jack had gotten lucky. When they were busy murdering the poor guy, Jack could escape without being noticed.
Just a little farther now. Only a few more well-placed steps, and he would be at the end of the concrete wall. Then he would wait for his chance to bolt across the unprotected area. Then, he would be safe.
He would return to Brent and Naomi empty-handed, but at least he would still have his life.
And anyway, there would be other chances to find a running vehicle.
One more step.
He froze. It felt like his chest turned to ice.
Someone was behind him.
Holding his pistol steady, Jack spun around. He was face-to-face with the stocky guy on watch he had seen earlier.
And the guy's revolver was pointed right at Jack.
A grotesque smile spread over the man's face. Without taking his eyes off Jack, he raised his voice and shouted to his friends.
“Hey, guys! We have another visitor.”
14
Saturday, 8:43 a.m. EST - The foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains
Heather Walsh pedaled her bike to the top of the hill, then coasted down the other side.
She was on a small, two-lane Virginia highway, several miles outside Roanoke. She had only begun the journey home, and she knew she had many more hours of travel by bike. But her energy level was good, and she had no doubt she would make it to her destination.
It had been three days since her world fell apart.
She had been hiding in her apartment ever since then. It was a relief to leave the cramped one-bedroom. But a part of her was sad to leave it all behind. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to return to the city she had called home for several years now.
One thing she was certain of – she would never be able to return to her old life the way it had been before. Even if the government could fix things, even if all the cars could run again and the buildings were rebuilt, she would never be the same again.
And she wondered if she'd ever regain her ability to trust.
She could still remember Wednesday vividly. It had started like any other day. She went to work and buried herself in research. The hours flew by.
Heather worked at the Roanoke branch of a regional law firm as a paralegal. She had just been accepted to law school, and her mind was reeling with plans for the future.
Just before lunch, Gary dropped by the office. He was a former coworker of Heather's. A few months earlier, he had been transferred to the law firm's Washington, DC, branch. But he still had family in Roanoke, and sometimes he stopped by his old workplace to say hello.
He had always been fond of Heather. He was old enough to be her father. And in fact, he had become something of a father figure to the young woman. Of course, no one could replace her own dad. But since she had moved to Roanoke, getting her footing at the law firm had been difficult. She had welcomed the professional guidance from her coworker.
On Wednesday, though, when he rushed in the office, something was obviously disturbing him. He seemed almost frantic. He pulled her aside in the law library and spoke to her in a panicked, lowered voice.
“Listen carefully,” he had whispered to her. “The US is about to suffer the worst attack on our soil in history. You need to leave the office. Now.”
Heather stared at him. She waited for him to break into a smile, unable to keep the joke going. But his face was dead serious. It made her nervous.
“Very funny, Gary,” she said, hoping to see him smile.
He shook his head. “I wish I were joking. I've just come from DC. My connection on Capitol Hill contacted me. All top-level officials are going into hiding. The president, his advisors, some of the Senate – they're expecting this to be bad, Heather. It's going to be the worst disaster of our lifetime.�
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Heather's jaw had dropped. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to believe he was joking, but why would he joke about this?
“I know this sounds crazy,” he said, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Take the rest of the day off. It's not safe to be here in the middle of the city. Do you still live on the lower west side?”
Heather nodded.
“Good,” Gary said. “You should be safe there. It's far enough from downtown to not be affected. As for myself, I'm going to my mother's house south of town.”
“You're really serious about this,” Heather said slowly. She watched as a couple of attorneys walked past the library, discussing a case. Everyone seemed to be carrying on as usual. “But how can you be sure? I mean . . . we're going to be attacked? Even down here in Roanoke?”
“I don't know if it's going to reach Roanoke or not,” Gary said quickly. “Maybe just DC. But when it happens, chaos is going to break out even down here.”
Heather's head was swimming. She didn't know whether to laugh or follow his advice and run for the hills.
“But none of this makes sense,” Heather said, shaking her head. “If they know there's going to be an attack, why aren't they stopping it? They're just going to let this happen?”
“I don't have all the answers, unfortunately. My informant just told me what he knew. It seems from what he said, though, that the NSA intercepted some encrypted information online about multiple localized attacks across the country. These people know what they're doing.”
As Gary spoke, Heather began to feel woozy. She struggled to pay attention to his words as her own mind raced.
Could this actually be happening?
“You know,” he was saying, “terrorists can hide massive bombs underground. Hell, they can hide them in ordinary vans that look like delivery vehicles. Whoever is doing this, they had it well-planned. Attack multiple cities all over the country at the same time. Hide the weapons in plain sight, and no one will be able to stop them in time.”
Gary stopped himself and squinted at Heather. “Are you all right, kiddo?”
“I – I think I need to sit down,” Heather sputtered.
“There's no time for that,” Gary said, looking out the hallway. “Follow me. You're taking the rest of the day off.”
He led her out of the library and down the hall, stopping at her office where she picked up her purse. Then she followed him to the elevator and out of the building to the covered parking garage. She had wanted to let her boss know she was leaving early, but Gary insisted they didn't have the time to spare. Heather figured that if she was going to believe him and skip out on work early, she may as well follow his advice to the letter.
“Stay in your apartment and don't go out until things calm down,” he said as they hurried through the garage. “And if you hear a loud explosion –” Gary whispered, his eyes looking stricken – “you need to stay inside for at least a couple of days. Because of the fallout, you know.”
Heather gasped. “You think this is going to be a nuclear bomb?”
They arrived at her car, and Gary stopped to catch his breath. “It could be anything.”
Heather felt a lump growing in her throat and tears welling in her eyes. Gary patted her shoulder. “You'll be all right, kid. You've got a good head on your shoulders. That's why I wanted to warn you. You've got a fighting chance.”
“But why me, and no one else?”
“If the word gets out, this place would be swarming with people running around crazy. Then you and I wouldn't be able to leave town, and we'd be stuck here to die.”
Heather stared at him. A lump formed in her throat.
“I know it's callous, but that's the way it is. Sometimes you have to put yourself first.”
Heather blinked back tears. Again, she was speechless.
“Go,” Gary said, opening her car door and ushering her inside. “Get out of here while you still can.”
Heather nodded and started the engine. She watched as her friend turned to walk away.
“Gary,” she called, and he turned around to look. “Thank you.”
He smiled, then shooed her away. “Go!”
And with that, he hurried off toward his own vehicle.
Heather backed out of the space, then took off through the garage quickly. She wanted to stop and think about this. She needed time to process this information, to let the horrible things Gary had told her sink in. But if he was right, there wouldn't be time for that. At least not now.
The traffic wasn't bad because it wasn't quite lunch hour. Heather lived on the far southwest corner of Roanoke. She drove herself robotically at first, without letting herself think too much about what Gary had told her.
But as she drove farther, she wondered how his words could possibly be true. Would the people driving cars all around her be killed? How could such a terrible thing be allowed to happen in her city?
As she put more distance between herself and downtown, she became more anguished. She especially felt guilty for not having stopped to warn her coworkers. But Gary had said there wasn't time. She didn't know if she had done the right thing or not.
But they wouldn't have believed her anyway. They would have thought she was crazy. And then if nothing happened – which was what she was hoping – she would be the laughingstock of the office.
After debating the question for a mile or two, she decided to call her closest friend at work, Marcy. The call went straight to voicemail. Heather left a message in a shaky voice, warning Marcy about what Gary had told her. She urged Marcy to leave downtown as soon as possible.
She threw her phone in the passenger seat when she was done. Maybe it had been the wrong thing, but at least she had tried.
As she entered the southwestern section of Roanoke, she began to have serious doubts. What if this had been some elaborate prank by Gary? Or what if he had simply gone off his rocker and convinced himself that the country was about to be attacked? And she had foolishly believed him, following him out of her office building.
She cringed. How could she just walk out of work that way? She probably wouldn't have a job to return to tomorrow when nothing happened. She had really messed up. Heather needed this job until she began law school next semester. She was trying to save as much money as possible so she wouldn't have to take out as many school loans. Now, she would be lucky to find a new job on such short notice.
When the exit sign for her apartment came into view, she decided she would just turn around and return to work. If she went back now, she could make it before her lunch break was over. Probably no one had noticed that she left early. And if they did, she could feign illness.
She took the next exit, which was the exit to go home. She intended to get back on the interstate headed in the opposite direction – toward downtown. She got in the left turn lane, put her blinker on, and waited at the red light.
Then things started to get strange.
The first thing she noticed was that the traffic light suddenly went out. At the same time, her car died. She tried to start it again, her heart pounding. She had always had a phobia of breaking down on the road. But then she noticed all the cars around her had suddenly stopped, too.
How was it possible for all the cars to suddenly stop running?
She felt a chill run down her spine.
Gary had been right.
She didn't know how all the cars dying at the same time was related to the attack. After all, she hadn't heard an explosion or seen anything. How could the terrorists – or whoever they were – disable both the power grid and motor vehicles?
But then she remembered something she had once heard her brother-in-law, Jack, mention.
An electromagnetic pulse.
Some kind of device that would disable everything electronic. Or almost everything.
With a shaking hand, she picked up her phone. Its screen was blank. It, too, was dead.
So the terrorists had detonated an EMP. F
rom what she remembered of what Jack had said, an EMP would make everything stop working, perhaps indefinitely.
She opened the car door and stepped out into the sun. Here and there, others were getting out of their cars and looking around in a daze. People were confused and alarmed.
Heather knew there was no chance her vehicle would run again in the near future. So she got her things, locked the doors, and walked away.
It felt wrong to leave her little Ford parked in front of a traffic light like that. But she pushed herself forward. She had to leave it behind.
“Hey!” a lady yelled after her as Heather walked briskly through the intersection. “You can't just leave your car here! You're blocking me in.”
Heather glanced over her shoulder. The woman was standing next to her dead SUV. Despite her fear and confusion, Heather couldn't help laughing. Apparently, the woman thought all the cars would just start running again soon.
She kept walking, turning down the street that led to her neighborhood. She didn't know what was coming, but she knew she had to make it home to her apartment as quickly as possible. The EMP might just be the beginning.
And she was right. Just when she got to her block, she heard a terrible explosion from downtown. There was a bright flash of light, then Heather turned, horrified, to watch the sky.
A mushroom cloud rose over the downtown area.
A wave of nausea passed through her body. She clenched at her stomach as she watched the cloud rise higher. Then she bent over to vomit.
She should have warned her coworkers.
She couldn't stay outside on the street. Despite the confusion and panic breaking out all around her, she had to remain focused. She moved past the arguments and fights breaking out among stranded motorists, panicked citizens screaming about the bomb that had just erupted, and people running frantically all over.
Once inside her apartment, Heather threw up again. She was a nervous wreck. Her mind swirled with worries about the safety of her friends and family.
And how was she going to survive this? Worry built upon worry.
