by S A Ison
Ω
Chaparral, NM
Dr. Abellano paced back and forth, they were getting nowhere fast. Who built this place, an idiot, she wondered for the hundredth time? They were cut off from the outside world, Dr. Hilleman had been trying all day to contact either Fort Bliss or someone in Washington. The lines going out were dead. Colonel Allen hadn’t come in and Dr. Gilder and Dr. Wiems were missing, off for Thanksgiving, for Christ’s sakes. She was surrounded by incompetents.
To make matters worse, they couldn’t leave, they couldn’t get topside. The elevator wasn’t working and the access to the stairwell wouldn’t work. There was power below in the complex, but there was no power topside. The jackass who’d built this place had failed to harden the topside. Whoever had accessed Pythagoras and set off the EMP had essentially trapped them all below. Several of the lab techs were now working to unlock the elevator and the door to the stairwell. Both had electronic cipher locks. Frustratingly, the locks indicated power, but when the code was put in, nothing happened.
Janet sat in her office; she just couldn’t listen to the crying any more. Two of the techs, women, were huddled together in the breakroom, weeping. There were three marines, down below, helping the two of the male techs try to muscle their way through the exits. Hilleman was in the lab, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. It was bedlam out there and Abellano needed quiet to think. There had to be a way to get word out. After all, this place was hardened, and they had power. The lights flickered and she looked up, her heart skipping a beat. She got up and went out of her office, in search of Hilleman.
“Why are the lights flickering?” She demanded, walking into the lab. Hilleman was under his desk, fiddling with wires. He came up and bumped his head on the underneath of the desk and winched, rubbing his head.
“I don’t know, maybe the generator is glitchy?” He grouched, both his hands on his head now.
“Generator? I thought we were hardened?”
“We are, but the outside world isn’t. If the electrical grid went down, then we’ve switched to generator power. The hardening is only so the equipment and the information stored, would not be destroyed, or wiped out.” Hilleman reasoned.
“How long does the fuel last for the generator?” Abellano asked, her blood pressure rising.
“I don’t know, but we need to get out of here. Have they gotten the elevator doors open yet?”
“I don’t think so, but I think I’ll go encourage them.” She bit out, a gleam in her dark brown eyes. Turning, she left Hilleman and walked along the corridors. Her agitation and just a little fear, were rising. Her heels clicked loudly on the hard floor. They were roughly sixty feet below ground, that thought had never bothered her before, and had in fact been a comfort. It was not so now. By the time she reached the elevator, Abellano was near boiling. She found two marines and a tech; she couldn’t remember his name.
“What the hell are you people doing to get us out of here? It has been hours. Are you all so incompetent, that you can’t open a simple sliding door? There has to be some kind of locking mechanism that can be turned.” She nearly snarled, looking at each of the sweating men. She was gratified when she saw their flush of shame rise in their faces, but she didn’t like the narrowing of their eyes.
“The elevator is stuck on this floor. But a safety feature prevents us from opening this door. It is cypher driven. We’re trying to override that, and get within.” The young marine practically shouted, his breath coming in short pants and Abellano noticed the other marine place his hand on the angry man’s shoulder. Abellano sneered and turned away, muttering, “incompetent idiots.”
“You people are useless and a waste of skin.” She called over her shoulder. She would go back to her office. Apparently, she hadn’t realized this place was proliferate with incompetent imbeciles and fools. A few good men, her aunt Fanny, she’d take just one competent knuckle dragger. Her head was throbbing by now and she went back to her office to nap. Dealing with underlings was draining to the soul and the spirit.
Ω
Fargo, GA
Blake Rondeau turned and avoided several people walking along the dark stretch of road. They lifted their hands waving, but he bypassed them quickly. He looked over; Alice was asleep. He thought it was perhaps some time after midnight. In sleep, Alice looked older than her fifty-five years, and Rondeau knew much of it had been his fault. In his disappointment and anger over the Pythagoras debacle, he’d taken it out on her and their son, James. James had the good sense to leave and turn his back on Blake, but Alice had stuck with him. A twinge of sadness seeped around the hard armor around his heart.
He had not seen James in ten year, though Alice had flown to Alberta, Canada to see their only son. At least James was safe, or at least he hoped his son was safe. He could ask for no more than that. He turned off RW Camp road and onto a small, little used dirt road. This led to a small cabin. He let a breath of relief out, he’d done it, he had been able to escape Miami before things imploded there.
Blake had walked to his truck, and old 57 Chevy, his beauty. After leaving New Mexico, Blake had not been a fool, he knew something like this would happen, or another country would strike first, before the United States could use Pythagoras. It was inevitable. So, he’d planned his life accordingly, enjoying it as much as possible, and also planning for the worst-case scenario. That was one of the benefits to being in the know.
He had driven to their condo, weaving in and around the stalled traffic. He got curious looks, but nothing hostile. When he’d gotten home, he told Alice to pack anything and everything she thought she might need. She had looked at him, like a deer, caught in headlights. He had walked up to her and shook her roughly.
“Alice, do it now, do as I say. We only have a small window of opportunity. I’m going to start loading the truck.”
“What on earth is going on Blake? The power went out and so did my phone.” She had lifted her smart phone and waved it in his face. He had taken the phone and threw it across the room.
“I said, get your things and get them packed now, I don’t have time to explain and I’ll tell you on the way out of this place.” He said, his temper getting the best of him. He turned before he could say anything else and had gone down to their storage unit. He backed his Chevy up and had opened the condo’s storage unit. Inside were five-gallon cans of gas. Every six months, he cycled the gas with fresh gas and a fuel additive. He quickly loaded the heavy cans into the back of the truck. He also pulled several large plastic totes and set them into the bed of the truck.
This had equipment and things that he thought they might need during an emergency. They were sealed with duct tape. He was sweating heavily now. It was a six-hour trip or better to the camp. Even Alice didn’t know about the small camp that sat on the Suwannee River, nestled near the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge. He’d chosen the location for its proximity to the refuge, which would afford them fishing and hunting. He did like gator meat.
Blake loaded a long case, it contained two rifles. A hunting rifle and an AR15. He then loaded several heavy cans of ammunition into the back of the truck. He then picked up a large silver tarp and secured it over the contents of the back. He paused for a moment; his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath, trying to get control of his fear. He wasn’t too arrogant to admit that he was scared to death.
It wouldn’t take long for people to start realizing that something was very wrong and that any working vehicle was worth stealing and worth killing for. He’d seen a few beat up cars still running as he drove home, but that was only a few. The majority had stalled right where they were, leaving their occupants stranded. Once the tarp was secured tightly, he went back up into the apartment. He found Alice, doing as she was told and he was glad. Her face was set in hard lines and he could see that she’d been crying. Blake wasn’t heartless, but now wasn’t the time to be soft.
Blake pulled out his own suitcase and began to pack it. He went into the bathroo
m and picked up all the toiletries and brought them back. Going to his nightstand, he opened it and pulled out his Ed Brown KC9 and holster. Alice’s eyes grew large and her mouth fell open, but she didn’t say a word, just packed faster. Going to their closet, Blake pulled out a cartouche box, filled with 9mm shells. He put that inside his suite case. He stood looking around, then went into the kitchen. Most everything they would need was already at the cabin.
He opened the refrigerator and looked into the darkened interior. He grabbed a six pack of beer; it would be the last he’d ever taste and he wanted to enjoy them. He set about making sandwiches and packed them in a small blue cooler. He also grabbed napkins and an opened bag of chips.
“I’m ready.” Alice had said in a small voice and Blake could see she was shaking. He smiled encouragingly and nodded. They had loaded the suitcases and Blake had left their home, not looking back. On the long drive, Blake explained what was going on, or at least what he thought was going on. He also downplayed his connection to the project. Alice had wept and had worried for their son.
“James will be fine, anyone in the United States, however, won’t be.”
Slowing the truck, ahead, he could see deer, standing in the middle of the dirt road. He smiled. Yep, lots to hunt here, he thought. The deer showed no fear and ambled along, out of the way. He hit a rut, and that woke Alice, who sat up with a start.
“Where are we?” She asked, squinting out into the darkness.
“We’re almost to our new home.” Blake said softly, looking over to her and smiled. She smiled back, but her lips trembled a bit. Christ, he thought, I’ve been a real son of a bitch.
Alice tried not to cry; she knew she had to trust Blake. What he told her sounded so crazy, though. She had always trusted Blake to know what was best for them. It had been a struggle to keep the peace when James and Blake argued. They never saw eye to eye. After New Mexico, Blake had been bitter and difficult to live with, but she’d stuck it out. They had settled in Miami and she had a wonderful home, friends and a membership at the country club. She didn’t think was much more she could ask for.
Today, her world had been shattered for some kind of invisible thing. She wasn’t even sure it was real. But she had to trust Blake. What else could she do? It was a big scary world out there and Blake had always made sure she was provided for. She knew he’d come from humble beginnings, though he didn’t talk about it much, he rarely spoke about himself.
Alice looked out the window, into the darkness and all she saw was pitch black and forest. Where was this cabin? He said he’d planned for this; how did he know? How could anyone know? She wiped at her eyes, she’d just have to trust him, to know what was best for them.
FOUR
Lewis and Clark National Forest, MT
Julian sat up; his head pounded viciously, like a large Taiko drum. He felt nauseated and his hand blindly felt around for his bottle of water. His hand shook and he kept his eyes squeezed shut, tight against the undulating rhythm of the pain. He felt the warmth of tears sliding down his face, he could discern that it was very cold around him. His nostrils stung from the piercing frigid air. Carefully, Julian sipped at the water, his other hand digging into his pocket for the pain reliever. Pulling the bottle out, he managed to open the child safety lid in the dark. Using his lips, he pulled two tablets out and swallowed them with a swig of water.
He shoved the bottle of pills back into his pocket. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. He looked around the dark tent. Around him, he saw bundles and humps of clothing. It reminded him of he and his roommates’ apartment, with dirty laundry resting in piles. A twinge speared through him, he’d never see his parents, nor his roommates for Thanksgiving. It was even now, Thanksgiving and here he was, sitting in God knows where, with a splitting headache.
Shifting the clothing around him, Julian crawled out of his nest. He heaped the clothing back into place, to retain the body heat left behind. Lifting a hand, he pushed at the ceiling of the tent and felt the snow slide to the back. His legs felt a little shaky, but he moved to the opening of the tent. Picking up a couple branches and a large chunk of wood, he squatted before the dying fire. He carefully added the wood and looked behind when someone shifted. He froze, waiting, but no one moved.
After settling the wood on the fire, Julian left the tent and found his way into the woods. It was a false dawn, and the sky was clear of heavy clouds, and he could see the stars above. He shuffled his way through the snow, it seemed like there was about a foot of new snow. He was careful not to lift his feet, he didn’t want to trip on something hidden under the snow. He didn’t want to fall and hit his head. He shivered at the thought. He was grateful that Phoenix had pulled him out. He owed the man his life.
Julian found a likely tree and relieved himself. The air around him was hushed and so cold. He didn’t remember ever being this cold. Hawaii was always warm. He’d been in the mountains of the Big Island, but he didn’t remember it ever coming close to this kind of cold. He turned back to the tent, shuffling along. His foot hit something and he bent at the waist, his hand lightly moved the snow. He wasn’t crazy about the color of the purple mittens, but they were wool and they were warm. His hand brushed something and even in the dim light, he could see that it was a severed head that he’d found.
“Jesus, this must be Yuma’s wife.” He choked out, looking down into the half-closed eyes of Chizu Moto. Her face was bloody from chin to nose. Her long black hair knotted and icy. He felt his gorge rise in his throat and Julian swallowed hard. He had to get rid of the head, this couldn’t be the last sight of his wife. He blinked his eyes, the tears trying to freeze before they fell. Squatting before the half-buried head, Julian carefully grasped the head on each side. A trembling sob broke from him and he gritted his teeth as he pulled the head up from the ground. He saw the dark stain of blood in the snow.
He walked slowly with the head held far away from his body. He didn’t look down at it, he just wanted to hide it. He didn’t want Yuma to see her, if it was, in fact his wife. He gagged again and stopped, gritting his teeth.
“Just don’t think about it. Think about surfing, think about the waves on North Shore.” He hissed at himself. Finding a cluster of bushes, Julian carefully set the head within the branches at the base.
“I don’t know if you can rest in peace, but I hope so.” He whispered and wiped at the tears. Using his hands, he scooped snow and covered her head, it wasn’t hard, there was plenty of new snow. Backing up, he surveyed his work. The dark hair was hidden. He let out a sigh, and his breath fogged around him. He turned back to the tent, following his zig zagging trail. He saw the fire in the distance and went to it. He was shivering hard now, and the shivering hurt his head. He grabbed the coffee pot and found a fresh pile of snow. He pushed and packed snow into the pot. He needed coffee.
Julian settled himself as close to the fire without sitting in the coals. Slowly, the heat radiated over him, and his shivering subsided. He turned and looked into the tent; all were still asleep. He looked up into the sky and saw the first streaks of lavender, pushing away the deep cobalt of night. He’d heard Phoenix earlier in the evening, they would walk out today. He wondered if the Pilgrims had snow all around them? He did agree with Phoenix, sitting here in the woods wouldn’t get him home. He’d never leave Hawaii again. He hated the cold.
He’d gone to see a girl; someone he had met on the internet. It had been promising, but upon meeting her, she was pretty enough, however, she was self-centered, self-involved and had an over reaching sense of entitlement. That was just too much for a simple Hawaiian boy. He’d wanted to see New York City, and it was everything he had hoped for. It was filled with amazing sights and so many people.
Julian opened the plastic bag that held the coffee pods, he dropped one into the now boiling water. He was finally warming up and his head was beginning to ease. He sensed something beside him and jerked when Thor’s nose went to his neck. It was cold and Julian giggled and shoved the do
g away. He’d fed the dog some of the sausage last night.
“I don’t have any sausage on me, boy.” He laughed softly and scratched the dog’s heavy ruff. Thor’s liquid brown eyes looked hopeful and the dog’s eye brows lifted and his tail wagged. Julian held the dog and pulled him in and hugged him. He sighed; Thor was a good dog.
“Is that coffee I smell?” Phoenix’s sleep rough voice asked softly. The large man moved quietly, coming to sit beside Julian.
“Yeah, needed something hot inside me. It is cold as hell. Happy Thanksgiving by the way. Guess we’ll have to wait to eat a turkey dinner.” Julian grinned.
“Sure, you’re right about that, but hopefully, we’ll find a road, and if we can flag down someone, we can call the authorities, to let them know about the crash site.
“I need to call my folks. I know they are going crazy, worrying about me. I should have flown into Honolulu last night.”
“Hopefully by this time tomorrow, we’ll be with our families. I just really feel bad for Taya and Yuma. I hope Taya has extended family. We’ll have to find out.” Phoenix worried, as he reached for the coffee pot. Steam was spiraling up from the pot. Julian reached for the plastic cups and held them as Phoenix poured carefully. Phoenix set the pot near the fire, to keep warm. Julian cradled the hot plastic cup. He could have crawled into it, if he could.
