“I spent a day in the camp searching for my wife, but I couldn’t find her. I found a neighbor of ours in there. He thought she had left in her car. I started for Texarkana on foot. I wasn’t in the best of shape back then, so I couldn’t cover ground like I can now.
“On the morning of the second day out of De Kalb I found my wife’s car parked in a long line of vehicles on the shoulder of the road headed west. Some people told me those were all cars that ran out of gas and most of the people went on foot from there, so I headed back west.
“The camp at De Kalb was even more chaotic than it was when I left. The government officials were losing control of the place. I checked through the camp as best I could, then I learned of the stacks of dead outside the camp. I didn’t want to go out there, but I had to.” He winced. “I just had to.”
Carson paused and took a deep breath. “They had started with mass graves and using lye on the corpses. When they ran out of lye they started burning the bodies, but they soon realized they would run out of fuel long before they ran out of bodies, so they just started piling them up five or six high. They were overwhelmed and didn’t even try to bury them all. Acres of corpses. I don’t know where all those people came from. The government had plans for mass graves, but not for death on that scale.
“I started walking down the edge of the pile. I am sure it must have stunk, but I don’t remember any smell. There were hundreds of people doing just what I was, some of them climbing the piles looking for somebody. I guess I got lucky, or unlucky, depending on how you want to look at it. Just a few minutes into my search, I saw it... my wife’s legs sticking out of the pile. I recognized her shoes, her blue shoes. They were her favorites. She wore them on special occasions. I don’t know why she was wearing them, but I have always thought she knew what might happen and wanted me to be able to find her and identify her... body,” he said as tears ran down his cheeks. “It’s been thirty years and I still cry.”
Jim raised his hand to touch Carson on the arm. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of himself, then put his hand on the man’s forearm. “It’s okay, Mr. Carson. If it’s too painful you don’t have to tell me.”
“No, I think you need to hear it, and I need to tell it,” he said blotting his eyes on his shirttail.
“I tried to pull her body out of the pile. She was tangled up with a couple of corpses next to her and I had to undo that.
“Once I got her out I found she had been killed by an alien. She had a bite on her chest and shoulder. She must have survived it. She must have. She ended up at the camp after all.
“I might have asked some camp officials about that, but I don’t really remember. My wife died and there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t there for her. I pretty much gave up at that point and everything was a blur. A day or so later I left with a large group headed west. They left because the camp was turning into something ugly. For some reason they took me and some others along. I was just part of the herd. I saw people drop dead while walking. Not from lack of food or water,” he said shaking his head. “Not from injuries or sickness, but from grief. I think I was probably on the edge of succumbing myself, but of course, I didn’t. I cannot to this day tell you why.”
“Maybe somebody had something in mind for you,” Jim said.
“That might have been the case,” he said.
“I ended up in Fort Towson. They took us in, the whole group of us. We were among the last people they let in. There were already roving groups of thugs attacking refugees and towns. We didn’t call them raiders yet. The town started building walls to help defend the place. I helped. I think the work kept me sane. Later, I started helping to salvage usable items from nearby towns and homes, but I wasn’t worth much to anybody. I was scared and depressed, I suppose nearly all of us were to one degree or another.
“A few years later a group from Heaven came to town and suggested we start working together. Help each other out, trade services, share expertise, trade goods and materials. Trading, for some reason that concept perked me up a bit,” he said with a bright smile. “I borrowed a couple of mules and became the Freelands first traveling merchant.”
“Was Frank Parkes in the group that came from Heaven?” Jim asked.
“He sure was. I’m glad to hear you know of him. I’ve always felt he gave me a second chance at life. I expect I’d be long dead if I hadn’t become a traveling merchant. Traveling has allowed me to meet folks all over the Freelands and beyond. I have a pretty good sense of what’s going on. That’s why I’m concerned about folks trying to put the past behind us before it’s time.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I said it earlier, it’s not time to forget. This world is still broken and decaying, despite what we have here in the Freelands. We’re living off the corpse of the past, but we can only do that so long. It’s a form of complacency, I guess, and we need to keep pushing to reclaim what we can and build for the future. I think understanding and remembering the Calamity helps provide some impetus to keep moving forward.”
“But if people won’t talk about it, or teach us that weren’t there, how are we supposed to understand?”
“Good question, and there’s a lady up in Geneva working on that, her and some other archivists that is. They’ve been collecting stories and accounts from people that were there, gathering print, video, and audio accounts from the time. They’re looking to distribute it to schools and libraries. When we get to Geneva in a couple of weeks we’ll go see her. I imagine she’d like to know what you think. Between then and now, I’ll tell you what I know and bore you with the tales of an old man. I even know a joke or two.”
“I like stories. I don’t think you’ll bore me,” Jim said.
“Oh, I might surprise you,” Carson said mirthfully, “I have over two weeks to prove you wrong.”
. . . . .
Carson and Jim discussed the Calamity. A great deal of what they discussed the young man already possessed some knowledge, but hearing about it from someone who was there, someone who lived through it opened his eyes to many things he was unaware of and provided an understanding of the ordeal those that survived the Calamity had endured.
On a clear evening in early 1993, near a town called Humboldt somewhere in the middle portion of North America, an amateur astronomer named Paul Spica discovered what he believed to be an object never seen before, a new comet, or so it was thought. This comet was named after its discoverer, and came to be called Comet Spica. It was considered one of the most important astronomical discoveries that year by numerous experts in the field, as it was expected to pass near earth in just a little over two years.
This was the opening act of the Calamity, though no one could have known it at the time.
In September of 1993 an attempt by rogue elements within the Russian Federation to overthrow the government was put down. Initially it was thought to be a small portion of the Russian military led by hardliners from Russia’s recent Soviet past, but those that believed this were proven to be terribly wrong.
Civil war erupted in Russia later that same month. Within days the conflict escalated when NATO forces, in an attempt to curtail the actions of rogue elements, launched airstrikes in support of the Russian government when it appeared the rogues might gain control of the Russian nuclear arsenal. The conflict further escalated when rogue Russian forces launched air and ground attacks against western Europe, and later in the conflict against the United States and Canada.
The attacks on North America were mostly unconventional, with SPETSNAZ and Soviet-era sleeper cells attacking infrastructure targets throughout both nations, but the rogue Russian forces were doomed when an attempt to seize control of the vast nuclear weapons arsenal in Russia failed.
By April of 1994 the war had ended with the last of the rogue Russian forces surrendering.
In the midst of the conflict, Comet Spica had largely been forgotten, but as it neared earth the following year, the comet once again
became a news story.
By late spring 1995, astronomers were certain that Comet Spica would become a temporary satellite of Earth, which it in fact did. Then the unthinkable happened.
The object thought to be a comet was not what it appeared to be, it was the delivery system of extraterrestrial life.
Shortly after it began orbiting earth, the object broke apart, but not in a random or haphazard fashion. Not in an explosion or a disintegration either. The pieces moved autonomously to take up positions at locations around the planet.
Early theories postulated they were communications devices, a theory that would have adherents long after it was apparent they were not.
Early in the afternoon, North American time, on June 6, 1995, the objects simultaneously entered the atmosphere and took up positions at locations around the world, hovering thousands of feet above the ground with the majority of them over large population centers. Not long after this, the objects began expanding into a shape that resembled a blimp or dirigible.
The following day, the objects, which would become known as gasbags, began attacks throughout the southern hemisphere. The gasbags were capable of flight, and the attacks consisted of the dropping of a brown substance that emitted yellow gas, which shortly after produced terrifying terrestrial creatures. The method of these attacks were quickly tagged ‘bombing runs’ because of their resemblance to aircraft attacks.
Nations under attack tried every conventional means to fight the gasbags, but all proved to be futile. Attacks in the northern hemisphere began the next morning. There was no time to determine a reason for this.
On June 9, 1995, the Chinese military, using a nuclear device, attacked and destroyed a gasbag within their territory. The success of the attack prompted other nations to consider the same course and by June 11, most nuclear-armed powers were following suit.
This seemed to be a strategy for victory, but if it was, it was a pyrrhic one.
There were indications that the Russian leadership had been killed or rendered incapable of governance when gasbags attacked Moscow on June 11, as all communication attempts made by other nations toward them were met with silence.
By this time every major city on earth had been struck by the alien attacks, and the governments still functioning had to do so from remote locations.
On the evening of June 11th, the detonation of a Chinese nuclear device over Russian territory that destroyed a gasbag near Blagoveshchensk, Amur Oblast prompted a Russian response—rumored to have been made by the Russian Systema Perimetr, or Dead Hand, an automated response system—that resulted in disaster, the beginning of the final act of the Calamity.
The response issued by the Russian system was a total release of Russia’s immense nuclear arsenal. The rapid retort by several other nuclear powers led to rumors of automated retaliation systems being present and functioning within most nuclear powers at the time of the Russian onslaught.
The devastation was beyond description, and beyond comprehension. The aftermath of the alien invasion and nuclear weapons exchange led to widespread unrest, famine, and disease outbreaks. The gasbags were seemingly gone, but continuing alien attacks on the ground in conjunction with the already terrible conditions made for a hellish situation.
Humanity’s existence was in doubt.
. . . . .
Chapter 1
Why We Serve
Geneva Settlement, Monday 5 May 2025
A man strode out of a building, down the steps, and onto the dirt training area. A sign in front of the building read GENEVA RANGER POST, HQ. He squinted in the brightness of the morning sunlight as he walked toward a set of benches lined with people. The man was a Ranger—the senior ranking Ranger—in the Geneva Settlement in a land called the Freelands. A small black bar in the middle of the Ranger star on his chest indicated he held the rank of lieutenant.
On the benches sat twelve people, ten men and two women. Most of the people were relatively young, in their late teens to early twenties, with a couple of men who were in their thirties.
These people had gone through an evaluation process, one that was not terribly stringent. A process lasting five days that looked for basic skills such as the ability to read and write; the ability to communicate verbally to an adequate degree; possess basic physical fitness, particularly cardiovascular; and have no significant mental deficiencies. In other words, the evaluation process simply confirmed these people were reasonably fit, smart, sane, and educated enough to enter a training program to attempt to become members of the Freelands Rangers.
As the lieutenant approached the group, his mind flashed to his first day as a Ranger trainee nine years before.
This was not the first class of trainees Geiger had overseen and it was not likely to be his last. For Geiger, every class was different, but one thing that was always the same was his remembrance of his own days as a fledgling Ranger just before he addressed the trainees. Geiger was determined to give his charges the best training possible and make certain each trainee left the program fully qualified to do the job. His duty was to see to it the trainees had every opportunity to succeed. He received that consideration in his time and his trainees would get the same. That meant using the best trainers available.
One of those trainers stood near the people on the benches, a stocky, tough-looking man with corporal’s stripes on his well-worn star and an impish gleam in his fierce eyes. Embroidered on his nametape was the name, SIERRA.
Geiger smiled inwardly, thankful for Sierra’s presence. Most who served in the ranks regarded him as not just one of the best instructors in the Freelands, but as one of the best Rangers to ever take up the star. Geiger was among those that held that opinion, one based on personal experience. He’d been trained by Corporal Sierra, served with him, and seen him train dozens of Rangers. He could think of no one he would rather have present for the challenges ahead than Art Sierra.
Geiger looked over the dozen trainees as he came to stand before them. This class is different. We have our work cut out for us, he thought.
“Good morning, as you should remember, I am Lieutenant Dan Geiger. Recruit evaluation is over, and you are all Ranger trainees at this point. Congratulations, but know this, you have a long way to go and not much time to get there. The situation down south requires us to expedite things. In fact, your training is only going to be half as long as it would be under normal conditions. It is simply not possible to train you fully in the time allotted, but we will squeeze in as much as we can with the time we have.
“Because of this, the one day off per week trainees normally receive to take care of personal business and rest is not an option. We simply cannot do that and get you the training you need. We will try and fit in a few hours here and there for you, and you will get some days off. If you pick up the instruction quickly, you’ll get more personal time. That said, we have many long days ahead.
“To cover the remainder you’ll get OJT once you put on the star, that’s On the Job Training for those of you who don’t know. You’ll be learning a lot of acronyms and slang over the next two months, so get used to it. I have been told that all of you will be assigned here at the conclusion of training, so OJT should go well since you will know your fellow Rangers and your fellow Rangers will have some idea of your strengths and weaknesses.
“The fact that you are Ranger trainees does not mean you are done with evaluations. There will be numerous evaluations throughout the training cycle, some of which are scheduled, like this afternoon’s shooting eval. You will also be evaluated on your conduct, demeanor, and attitude throughout the training cycle.
“Do not get down if you are rated poorly on a particular evaluation. That simply means you have an area in which you need to improve, and in which you will receive help. We want you to succeed, but if you cannot meet the standards to become a Ranger, you will be dismissed from training.
“Despite what you might have heard, Ranger training is not what most people think it is. Ranger tr
aining is not like what is portrayed in the old military videos. There is no drill sergeant yelling at you. There is no saluting, marching, or shoe polishing. Rangers are not a military force. We are Rangers. What does that mean exactly? Well, Corporal Art Sierra,” he said gesturing toward the Ranger standing nearby, “is going to tell you. Art is the longest-serving Ranger currently assigned to Geneva Settlement and there are very few who have served longer anywhere in the Rangers. He has seen it all, and served just about anywhere a Ranger can serve, so listen very carefully to what he has to say.” Geiger said as Art Sierra approached and stood beside the lieutenant.
“Thanks LT,” he said, pronouncing the abbreviation as ‘el-tee’. Lieutenant Geiger stepped aside and walked away, headed toward the headquarters building.
Corporal Sierra eyed the group of trainees for a few seconds before speaking.
“So, what is a Ranger? What does a Ranger do?” Art asked in his slightly drawled voice. Several hands went up at once.
“Put your hands down. I figure I’ll make this easy and answer it for you. A Ranger does a lot of things. That sounds like a silly answer, but it’s the truth. As Ranger you might be called on to act as a soldier, a policeman, a doctor, a mail man, a teacher, a mechanic, or a... well you name it and a Ranger will probably have to do it at some point,” he said with a smile.
“To put it another way, a Ranger does what has to be done to keep our towns, settlements, and—most importantly—our people, free and secure to survive, live, and thrive. And you have to do it without steppin’ on too many toes. Those of you who make it through training will find this out for yourselves.
“Let’s go over what’s going on over the next couple of days,” said Corporal Sierra. “This morning is orientation, which started as soon as Lieutenant Geiger started talking a few minutes ago. This afternoon...” Sierra paused and scowled, then walked to the bench to his right and stopped in front of a large young man who was leaning over and whispering to the trainee next to him.
The Blastlands Saga Page 2
