Martial Law

by Bobby Akart

  “What do you think is troubling her, besides the obvious?” asked Julia.

  “I don’t know,” replied Sarge. “Try to engage her in conversation tomorrow. Maybe enlist your aunt’s assistance. She might be in denial, but I sense something else. Anger maybe.”

  Julia recalled a book she’d read on grief counseling. If Mrs. Lowell was grieving over the circumstances or a loss unknown to the rest of the group, she and Sarge would have to choose their words carefully.

  “Let’s get started.” Julia walked into the Great Hall and offered everyone something to drink. Candles were burning throughout the space. Sarge stood in front of the televisions.

  “I wish we were gathered here under more pleasant circumstances,” said Sarge. “We all have questions and concerns. Julia has spent the better part of the day gathering information and staying in contact with our friends at Prescott Peninsula. Before I let her relay the details to you, I would like to take a moment and outline some logistics.”

  “Where are the Endicotts?” asked Mr. Lowell.

  “I’m sure she insisted on the south of France?” sniped Mrs. Cabot, dragging out the pronunciation of France with a considerable aaahhh. Some of the ladies nodded and snickered.

  “We’ve been trying to reach them continuously, to no avail,” replied Sarge. “I’m sure Mr. Endicott was instructed in the procedures to follow. He also knows about 100 Beacon. He is either traveling or perhaps failed to keep his satellite phone unit charged. I will assess the situation tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll go with you, Sarge,” offered Dr. Peabody. Uncle Art had become a valuable ally to Sarge as the day progressed. Julia and Sarge were able to have frank discussions and assessments with him without fear of raising a panic.

  “Thank you, Art,” said Sarge. “I know there is a lot of uncertainty surrounding this event. There are long-term questions, but the actions we take in the short term will determine our safety.” Julia brought Sarge a bar stool to sit on. She thought he might revert into Professor Sargent if he continued to stand in front of his new class.

  “Thank you, darling,” he said to her. Aunt Stella beamed. She was for Team Julia and Sarge.

  “After the power went off, we immediately prepared 100 Beacon. As you know, John Morgan tasked us with this responsibility many years ago. We hoped a collapse event of this magnitude would never occur, but we prepared nonetheless. All of us equated this plan to insurance. Many of you have insured your homes against fire, tornado, and earthquakes, yet never experienced a loss. Our plans involving 100 Beacon, Prescott Peninsula, and the protection of you were another form of insurance.”

  “Thank you, Henry,” said Mr. Lodge. Julia patted Lodge on the shoulder and mouthed thanks.

  “We have established a protocol for a catastrophic event,” continued Sarge. “Before we picked you up today, Julia and I assessed the situation, conducted a threat analysis to our building, and then established communications last night with a predetermined contact list. These initial steps were deemed critical to secure 100 Beacon in the event human threats developed rapidly.”

  “What kind of human threats?” asked Mrs. Winthrop.

  “Desperate people are capable of doing desperate things,” replied Sarge. “Most Americans only have a few days of food and water in their cupboards. They live paycheck to paycheck. Those families on America’s vast social welfare network will be panicked as they learn their government benefits no longer exist. The majority of humanity will become a very real threat to those of us who have prepared in advance.”

  “Simply put,” interrupted Dr. Peabody, “they will do whatever is necessary to take what we have.” Most in the room nodded in agreement. Mrs. Lowell remained stoic, staring out the window.

  “Very true, Art,” said Sarge. He continued. “Our primary purpose of today’s activities was to gather together our group—all of you, and the Endicotts, of course. I have been in contact with General Bradlee’s nephew, whom we call Brad, at Fort Devens. Many of you know that Brad is the battalion commander at Devens and will be instrumental in protecting all of us in the coming weeks.”

  “Weeks?” asked Mrs. Lowell, snapping out of her trance.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lowell, I shouldn’t have been loose with my estimates,” sugarcoated Sarge. Julia shot him a glance. You’ve already buckled under pressure, mister. “We do not have sufficient information to make that accurate of an assessment yet. Julia will expand on that in a moment. At this point, Brad is making arrangements to move you to the safety of the Prescott Peninsula. There are active-duty soldiers from Brad’s unit on site and he will assign more, I’m told.”

  “When will this happen?” asked Mr. Winthrop.

  “In the next few days,” said Sarge. “In the meantime, while I want everyone to be comfortable, we must also remain vigilant. We must be prepared to react to any threats from outside, and we must undertake certain operational security measures to minimize our exposure to others.”

  “OPSEC,” added General Bradlee.

  “Yes, sir,” said Sarge. “That’s a military term for operational security. OPSEC is a discipline and a mindset. Our goal is to survive and avoid conflict with others until we can safely deliver you to Prescott Peninsula. We need everyone to stay within the confines of the two penthouse floors and stay off the roof unless assigned there.”

  “Are you going to assign jobs to us?” asked Mr. Cabot. “If so, I would like to be in charge of the wine cellar.” The room burst out laughing, easing the tension. Even Mrs. Lowell managed a smile.

  “I would be happy to assist you, Cabot.” General Bradlee laughed, the unofficial social coordinator of the Boston Brahmin.

  “No foxes in the henhouse, gentlemen,” Mrs. Cabot chimed in.

  “We need everybody’s help in these critical first days,” said Sarge, after allowing the playful banter to subside. “I want to establish a watch team. Some of you are early risers, others may be night owls. We will create shifts to maintain a two-man rooftop observation post. Also, we need to set up a meal schedule commensurate with our generator operating. The generator will be limited to four hours per day, most likely in the afternoons when the outside activity masks the noise. I’ll let Julia coordinate showers, meal prep, etc.”

  “We’d be glad to do our part, Henry,” said Mrs. Lodge. “Please tell us what you’ve learned, Julia. I, for one, am very nervous about this. I trust that you and Sarge will take the utmost care, but we’re facing a greater danger than an extended power outage.”

  Very astute woman.

  Julia walked around the couch and traded places with Sarge. “As the day progressed, I was able to learn more from American news networks,” replied Julia. “We have confirmed that the power grid has been taken down by some sort of cyber attack. The collapsed grid does not include Texas, Alaska, or Hawaii—where the President was on vacation.”

  “How did they get a reprieve?” asked Mr. Winthrop.

  “Texas and Alaska have their own separate power grids,” replied Julia. “For an unknown reason, their grids were not attacked or the attack failed. Hawaii relies on imports of oil and coal for their power, although they also have an extensive solar and wind power program. It was fortuitous that the President was in Hawaii at the time.”

  “Indeed,” snorted Lowell.

  “Has anyone claimed responsibility?” asked Mr. Lodge.

  “Not officially, although ISIS immediately praised the attack,” replied Julia. “The Chinese have officially denied involvement and actively denounced the attack. The North Korean response has been ridicule of America and its way of life. The official Iranian statement was similar.”

  “What about the Russians?” asked General Bradlee. “They have been very active on the border of our territorial waters of late.”

  “They have?” asked Mrs. Winthrop.

  Sarge interjected. “This is concerning, of course. Remember, some of this is conjecture. But the Russians have used cyber intrusions in the past in pre
paration for military action. We don’t know this to be the case, but the possibility is there.” The room grew silent for a moment. Sarge continued. “I don’t want to alarm anyone, but there is no benefit to hiding the facts.”

  “Sarge is right,” added Julia. “From all accounts, the cyber attack caused extensive damage to transformers and substations across the country. Some estimates claim damage in the trillions to the infrastructure alone, not to mention the loss to our economy.”

  “Somebody will become very wealthy replacing that equipment,” interrupted Mr. Lowell, glancing at Mr. Cabot.

  “It’s not just economic loss,” said Julia. She needed to dissuade some fears. “There will be a loss of lives. This is why we’ve gone to great lengths to prepare. We’ve made every attempt to insulate ourselves from the health and famine issues as well as the societal collapse that is likely.”

  “We’ve seen society collapse all year,” added Mrs. Lodge. “I can only imagine what it will be like soon.”

  “We see the signs already,” said Sarge. “Shock is being replaced with a feeling of dread today. Hysteria is not that far behind.”

  “And then mayhem,” said Mr. Cabot.

  “Precisely,” added Mr. Lowell. “This country has been on the brink for quite some time. Is there any doubt it will fall apart quickly?” Again silence overtook the room. Julia looked at Sarge, seeking guidance. Should I say more, or should we break out the pinochle cards?

  Sarge answered for her. “The next several days will provide us more answers. At some point, the President will have to address the nation in some fashion. What he says may set the tone for how people react. An uplifting message of hope will calm fears. Any other tone might exacerbate problems.” Again, silence.

  Chapter 31

  Monday, September 5, 2016

  8:55 a.m.

  100 Beacon

  Boston, Massachusetts

  It was appropriate on this Labor Day 2016 to assign duties to all of their guests. The wives were all tasked with monitoring the communications system Julia designed—the Digital Carrier Pigeon.

  Julia retrieved a handheld scanner, a ham radio, a CB radio, a portable world band radio, and another satellite phone from the Faraday cages on the eighth floor.

  The Bearcat scanner was chosen because of its portability and ease of use. With TrunkTracker technology, it was the first handheld unit that required no programming. The user-friendly digital scanner required the user to input their local zip code, and the unit immediately broadcast communications used by aircraft, public safety, weather spotters, and the military. It was the best way to monitor local activities.

  The BaoFeng dual band two-way radio was perfect for use while the Yaesu base unit and its antenna were being set up. Ham radios were used throughout the world, and Julia cultivated an extensive list of contacts. Her fellow hammers would share information with each other regarding military and geopolitical activities, as well as assist in a future recovery effort. The BaoFeng could monitor ham networks while also being used as a means of communication between the penthouse and the rooftop observation team.

  The Midland portable CB unit had always been a favorite of truckers and travelers. In addition to its forty citizen band channels, the Midland had ten NOAA channels. Sarge would carry one in his car in the event he had to leave the building. A CB unit had a longer range than a typical two-way radio.

  The Sony portable world band radio was a capable backup to the satellite Internet system. With the lack of AM and FM broadcasting from the states due to the power outage, worldwide broadcasts could be heard during the daytime. The BBC was one of the most prominent shortwave broadcasters available on world band radio.

  Finally, Sarge and Julia would each carry their satellite phones. Each of the Loyal Nine had one, except for Abbie, who was always protected by secret service. Both Steven and Katie had their satphones with them, but they’d failed to check in last night as promised. It was too early to panic, Sarge said to Julia last night. Those two can take care of themselves.

  Sarge returned from the rooftop where, with the assistance of his new right arm, Dr. Peabody, he connected the HughesNet satellite dish and the ham radio antenna.

  “You should be good to go,” said Sarge. “I’ll work on the DirecTV hookup this afternoon. Art and I want to go to Battery Wharf and look for the Endicotts.”

  “But they haven’t called and could be anywhere,” said Julia.

  “We talked about that, but we feel it’s our obligation to look,” said Sarge. “Mr. Morgan would expect that of me.” Julia knew Sarge was right, and there was no sense in arguing. This morning appeared to be quiet in their Back Bay neighborhood, so she reluctantly acquiesced.

  “I understand. Let’s try again to raise them on the satphone,” said Julia. “Why don’t you round up your sidekick and gear.”

  “I’ve got the truck in the garage. I’m going to take an AR-15 with us. Art claims he’s comfortable with one. I don’t want to find out today.” Sarge gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “Listen, before you go, I’ll let the ladies know the plan. They can monitor the scanner and CB radio for activity between here and the Battery Wharf area. If there’s any sign of trouble, we’ll raise you on the two-way.” She handed him two of the BaoFeng portable units. “At least this time, you can carry some comms with you.”

  “I need to think about this for a moment,” said Sarge. “There are a few ways to get there, each with its risks. Granted, it’s only a few miles, but Battery Wharf is on the opposite of downtown. Ordinarily, the quickest way would be to take Storrow along the river and connect over to Commercial Street.”

  “Are you concerned with traffic?”

  “Not necessarily. I’ve watched the outflow of vehicles all morning. People are fleeing the city.”

  “I don’t blame them,” said Julia. “Then why not go against the flow?”

  “Mass General is on the way, and I’m afraid there’ll be a mass of humanity there, pardon the pun.”

  “Ha-ha, I get it. But you’re right. You could easily get bogged down. What’s your other option?”

  “I could approach from the south by taking Boylston and picking up Atlantic Avenue.”

  “Okay,” said Julia cautiously. She could see where Sarge was heading with this. “Chinatown.”

  “On any other day, Art and I would stop at Hei La Moon’s and enjoy a plate of dim sum,” said Sarge. “I’m not sure about Chinatown during the apocalypse.”

  Julia could picture it. Fried dough stuffed with shrimp and then wrapped with rice noodles.

  “Last but not least, drive straight through the concrete jungle?” asked Julia.

  “I could take the direct route through the heart of our fair city. We could get bogged down. I have no idea what to expect today. Yesterday was different because we were traversing the suburbs. Even then, the signs were there. As time passes, it will become more dangerous.”

  Julia took Sarge in her arms to provide them both a much-needed hug. Common, everyday decisions took on more import now—life or death significance. “Get ready and I’ll try them one last time. I’ll tell the ladies our plan. They can tell me if they’ve heard any chatter on the police scanner.”

  “I love you,” said Sarge as he tore himself away. “We’ll hurry back, I promise.” Julia didn’t want to let go, but she didn’t want Sarge to know she was worried about him. The last thing he needed on his mind was her emotions weighing on his shoulders.

  “I love you more,” she said as he headed for the stairwell.

  Chapter 32

  Monday, September 5, 2016

  11:25 a.m.

  100 Beacon

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Sarge knew this pickup wasn’t going to be routine. He wasn’t sure if the Endicotts were home. But he also knew John Morgan had placed the lives of his fellow Boston Brahmin in the Loyal Nine’s hands. It was Sarge’s duty. Traffic was light on Beacon as he passed the Massachusetts State House. T
he gold-leaf dome glistened in the morning sun. In its two-hundred-and-twenty-year history, the hub of the solar system, as Oliver Wendell Holmes called it, contained the offices of some of the most influential politicians in history, including John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and Calvin Coolidge.

  Sarge recalled the day his grandfather left office as governor. The large main doors entering the main hall of the building were only opened when the President or foreign heads of state visited and when the outgoing governor exited the building on their last day of office. This ceremony was known as the Lone Walk and had been a tradition for hundreds of years. It was an emotional day for Sarge as a young boy. On that day, he realized the importance of our republic form of government and its seamless transfer of power. Will Americans forget how lucky we are to have a peaceful transition of power from the outgoing government to the new one?

  “We’re going in,” Sarge said as he passed Park Street. Empty cars littered the urban landscape, but there was no evidence of accidents. He weaved his way through the maze of one-way streets towards Boston City Hall. As he turned onto Court Street, traffic suddenly stopped. There were thousands of people crowded in the plaza surrounding the building. They were pushing and shoving to force their way toward the entrance.

  “What the hell?” exclaimed Dr. Peabody. “And where are the cars associated with all of these people?”

  “From what I can see, they’re transients,” replied Sarge. “Look over there. Is that a FEMA truck?” A single tractor trailer rig was parked near the front steps of city hall. Sarge could not see what they were handing out, but he suspected one truckload wasn’t going to satisfy this crowd.

  “This has the potential for disaster,” said Sarge. “I’m gonna try to do a U-turn in front of the Boston Transit station. We need to avoid this powder keg in the making.” As he made the turn, the shouts from the crowd exploded like Gillette stadium full of Patriots fans decrying a bad call by the referee. Apparently, FEMA had already run out of freebies.