The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  “CQ DX, CQ DX, this is Freelands Ranger calling from Old Norman.”

  The procedures Jack used were based on those created long before the Calamity. CQ was a term that traced back to the earliest use of radio. It stood for ‘seek you’ and meant the caller sought a reply. DX originally meant ‘direct exchange’ and later came to mean the caller was seeking contacts at long distance. Using CQ DX and the location from where the caller was broadcasting would let local stations know they need not respond. He didn’t expect there to be any local stations in any case.

  Jack repeated his broadcast a few times per minute for half an hour before switching to 27.365 megahertz, a setting that corresponded with channel 36 on the citizens band.

  “CQ DX, CQ DX, this is Freelands Ranger calling from Old Norman.” He repeated the broadcast several times, and started in surprise when he received an answer.

  “Ranger in Old Norman, this is Bat-Zero-One out of Dodge City. Do you read me?”

  “Roger, Bat-Zero-One. Reading you clearly.”

  “Read you same. What’s a Ranger team doing that far west? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “That’s complicated. I am solo and am trying to contact any element in the Freelands.”

  “Solo, as in all by your lonesome?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ll log you as Ranger-One for the night. Odd night this. You don’t happen to be looking for TGG teams by chance?”

  He was taken aback by Bat’s question. “Not me personally, but north of the Freelands we are. Why do you ask?”

  “Been seeing signs of their travels. We had a prowler team run into a group of those nuts this morning. Had a map said they was headed Freelands way. North, just like you said. Gonna call your people in Heaven tomorrow with a report.”

  “That could be useful info, Bat. Have you been on the air with any Freelands stations this evening?”

  “Just forty-five minutes ago on CB channel thirty-eight. Nice fellow. Never talked to him before either.”

  “I spent half an hour talking to dead air on three-eight just before I switched to the current channel.”

  “Try channel thirty-eight again. We’ll try and contact them again and tell them you’re on the air. We caught a place in New Zealand earlier tonight, thirty years and it’s the first we ever heard them. Three new folks in the same night. Lucky that, and I’m betting the luck holds. Pick you up on thirty-eight, Ranger-One. Bat-Zero-One, out.”

  Jack moved the dial back to 27.385 MHz “—this is Bat-Zero-One. Repeat, Vodka-Two-Two, this is Bat-Zero-One. You still up?”

  Several seconds passed.

  “Good to hear,” Bat said. “Ranger-One, you copy that?”

  “I can hear you, Bat, but not the other station.”

  “By chance you using a directional antenna, Ranger? That might be the problem.”

  “I don’t know. Long story, but I can’t check.”

  “Not a problem. Told you the luck would hold. I’ll see if I can rig a relay on my set. Give me a couple. You copy that Vodka?” There was a short pause. “Hear you soon.”

  A few minutes later, Bat was back. “Ranger-One, got me?”

  “Roger.”

  “Vodka-Two-Two?”

  “I hear you. Coming in better than earlier.”

  Jack recognized the voice. He was sure it was an ex-Russian Spetsnaz soldier who fought in the war that occurred shortly before the Calamity. His name was Yuri, but he and his associate, Gregori lived in the Deva State, an independent city to the east of the Freelands.

  “You hear Vodka, Ranger?” Bat said.

  “Roger.”

  “I hear him as well,” Vodka said.

  “Have at it,” Bat said. “Readings look good here. Hopefully conditions hold.”

  “Vodka, are you the Yuri who frequents the Longbranch Saloon in Deva State?” Jack said.

  “That is my name and preferred place to drink. Do you know me?”

  “This is Jack Traipse.”

  “Ah, Ranger Traipse. I remember.”

  “You’re not in the Deva State?”

  “No. Near Geneva, in your Freelands. Visiting your man who makes vodka.”

  Jack suppressed a laugh. When he’d first met Yuri and Gregori, they lamented the fact there was no vodka available since the Calamity. Jack had mentioned a homesteader near Geneva named Anderson was making vodka, and it appeared Yuri decided to see the operation for himself. “I’m from Geneva. Can you relay a message to the Ranger station there?”

  “Yes. If phone line is functioning. I will try radio should that fail.”

  “I’d appreciate it. Why are you on the radio in the middle of the night?”

  “I was once communications expert, among many other things. Anderson’s set had issues. I fixed them, set up better antennae array, now drink vodka and talk to Dodge City and far away Rangers to pass time. I get Bat, but no Wyatt Earp.”

  Jack laughed softly and began to think Bat’s talk about luck might have some validity. He gave Yuri a quick rundown of his situation. “I’m heading back in the morning if the heat is off. Understand?”

  “I understand the message, but not why you would take such risks so far from Freelands. I can only conclude you might be insane.”

  Jack wasn’t sure if Yuri was joking or not, but he had to admit the man made sense. “This is coming from a man who infiltrated the United States and waged war with just a handful of men back in Ninety-four?”

  “I was only thirty years old and it was war.”

  “I’m just twenty-four, and I don’t know if it’s war or not, but if we have TGG, necros, and rads playing around with nuclear weapons, it’s probably worth some risk.”

  “I did responsible thing and tried to convince you, Jack. Throw the wisdom of Yuri back in his face and do your duty then. You may question your actions when you reach my age.”

  “I have a hunch I may not need that long to regret it.”

  Yuri laughed, then said, “Then perhaps insanity is not the reason you do what you do. I will relay message. Give me a short while.”

  Bat and Jack talked until Yuri returned about fifteen minutes later. “Message relayed and received by Ranger station. I spoke with a Ranger named Hays. She said they were concerned because they should have heard from you days ago. She is still concerned given your current situation.”

  “I imagine she was thrilled.”

  “She did not sound happy. She used harsh words to describe you. Should I relay those to you?”

  Jack scowled. “That’s not necessary.”

  “This Hays, wife, girlfriend?”

  “No, but she’s an old friend with a temper. I imagine I’ll be getting an earful from a lot of people when I get back.”

  “If you get back. Sounds like you have but half the journey completed.”

  Jack glared at the handset. “I’m trying to be upbeat and optimistic.”

  “Ah, it might help. This Hays said she would inform captain and lieutenant.”

  “Thanks, Yuri. I’ll broadcast again when I get the chance. I’d like to speak with you when I get back.”

  “So optimistic. I will be at Anderson’s for a short while. Call or visit. Be careful. Bat, Jack, sleep well. Yuri is out.”

  “Ranger, I could have relayed your message up to the Ranger folks at Heaven via ham or shortwave. Still could if you want?”

  “Geneva was who I wanted. Much appreciated, Bat.”

  Ranger…, this Old Norman business…, you do that kind of thing often?” Bat said. His tone told Jack he questioned Jack’s sense as well.

  “No, I try and limit my acts of stupidity to once every couple of months or so.”

  Bat laughed on the air. “Glad you can joke about it. Wouldn’t trade jobs with you for nothing, but somebody’s gotta do it, right? We got prowlers wired the same way. Hope to hear you get home safely. Talk to you again sometime.”

  “I hope so, on both counts. Thanks for the help, Bat. I won’t forget it.
Ranger-One, out.”

  Jack disconnected the antenna wires and pushed the TROG back into his rucksack. He knew he should get some sleep, but still keyed up from the evening’s events, he decided to check other parts of the facility.

  He returned to the room with the roster board and moved through another doorway into a hall. Most of the rooms down the hallway contained mattresses or cots, sleeping bags, clothing, fading photographs, books and magazines, radios and cassette players. It was obvious they were temporary and makeshift arrangements. Jack wondered if they housed refugees here in the immediate aftermath of the Calamity.

  Farther down the hall was a large room with desks stacked three high on two sides, taken from the other rooms to create space for people to sleep was Jack’s guess. A substantial door held open by a rubber wedge faced out from the other side of the room. Beside the doorway was a number pad and small sign that read, ALL PERSONNEL REQUIRED TO SHOW IDENTIFICATION REGARDLESS OF RANK. The doorway led to a descending stairway. Jack drew his pistol and went down.

  The next level was much deeper than a conventional basement. At the bottom of the stairs, another heavy door stood open, leading to a short hall with a pair of doors on each side. This led to a large space with high ceilings. A large display screen dominated the back wall. In front of the screen was a semicircular console bank with stations for ten people. Edging the left and right sides of the walkway to the console bank were radar panels, their round displays a murky green.

  Behind and to the left and right of the console bank was a pair of doors. The right door was locked, but the left was open and once inside, he saw that both doors led into the same space. It was a large room packed with rows of boxy devices, some with control panels, keyboards, and displays. A door at the back of the room had a sign over it reading COMMAND CENTER AND COMPUTER ROOM CLIMATE CONTROL. He was sure the boxy objects were computers or memory banks. There are people in the Freelands that would give their firstborn for this, he thought.

  Jack returned to the previous room. As he walked by the console bank, he saw an envelope propped up against one of the screens. He picked it up and opened it. Finding some folded sheets of paper inside, he removed them and read,

  Entry 1

  I am Senior Airman Robert S. McCluskey, assigned to SAGE Annex Center (AC) Z-26A located within the city limits of Norman, Oklahoma. Our site is officially called a Radar Maintenance Facility, but we are a part of the newest iteration of the Semi-Automatic Ground Environment (SAGE), a clandestine portion of the Joint Surveillance System utilizing the AN/FYQ-95 set and centrals. Our location and mission is secret to prevent enemy espionage from pinpointing us for targeting. We are a reporting and relay station of the radar detection, defense direction, and communications system set up in case of a nuclear exchange between the United States and a foreign power. The ‘just-in-case’ scenario is now our reality.

  We were placed on full alert status when the aliens made their appearance. There was little for us to do once the aliens began their attacks but monitor the situation. That changed once the missiles started to fly and we performed a job we all hoped would never be necessary, that of helping coordinate defenses against incoming atomic weapons and relay data to assist attacks on other nations.

  We were told the nuclear exchange was triggered when a Chinese nuclear strike on an alien gasbag occurred over Russian territory and the Russian’s responded by launching everything they had. We all suspected the strikes were directed not by anyone in the Russian government or military command, but by the Systema Perimetr, an automated response system designed to respond to nuclear attack when human commanders may be unable to do so. Some say that was just rumor, but based on my experience over the last few days, I believe it to be true.

  A total commitment nuclear exchange does not happen instantly, despite what movies might show. It’s not push a red button and everything flies. Missile silos and submarines can launch within minutes once they receive a launch order. Air launched weapons take far longer. Follow-up strikes will be launched at those targets not destroyed in the initial attacks. It takes time to use tens of thousands of warheads. Our exchange lasted at least 72 hours. Something knocked us off the air about that time, limiting us to local communications only. The nuclear duel may still be going on as I write.

  The commo traffic we heard while still online made us wonder if the entire world had gone mad. Raven Rock Mountain Complex, the alternate location in Pennsylvania for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, informed all of us privy to such information shortly after the nukes started flying, that the Joint Chiefs had activated our own computerized response system. It was the first any of us had heard of the thing. Called the Satellite Auto-response Network, you might think the acronym for the system would be SAN, but that was not the case. They went with SatAN. The consensus opinion among those of us at SAGE AC Z-26A was they did so because it sounded tough or frightening. Airman Holden said he thought it was because they were big fans of the TV character, the church lady.

  Waiting until we were in the midst of a nuclear exchange to tell us of such a system didn’t seem like much of a way to run a war. Under the fluid circumstances that we had to deal with, doctrine stated an aerial command post called Looking Glass would call the shots, but even the general aboard the EC-135C aircraft serving in that role was unaware of SatAN.

  On Day 2 of the conflict, SatAN went down. Destroyed by an enemy attack or malfunction, we were never told. Looking Glass took over.

  Just prior to losing contact with command, Raven Rock sent a message stating they felt the war was going well and victory was in sight. It sounded insane to us. We’d seen the mushroom clouds over Oklahoma City. We knew there was not a single major metropolitan area in the world that had escaped alien attack or nuclear strikes. Our leadership is fighting over the scraps of a dying world. They speak of victory, but there is nothing left to win. We’ll be lucky if we survive a decade after this.

  Entry 2

  We received no further messages. It didn’t take long to realize we were cut off and out of the loop. Oklahoma City, located to our north, suffered heavily, hit hard by both alien attacks and nuclear strikes. Refugees streamed from there and many other places into Norman. Aliens sometimes wander down here. Somewhere to our west, a Soviet warhead buried itself in the ground without detonating. I suppose we were its intended target. So much for secrecy. Our commander here at Z-26A felt it was our duty to assist the emergency management people, local authorities, and others who were trying to tend to the masses of desperate people. We maintained a watch in case communications resumed, but we have heard nothing.

  It didn’t take long before roving bands of human predators began to prey on those seeking shelter. At first, it was robbing refugees en route to Norman. In almost no time, things grew progressively worse. There were reports of the sacking of small towns and mass murders. These roving bands of predators grew quickly and soon they became bold enough to make a try at taking Norman.

  The efforts to help those in need were at their limits and this new threat might have been the last straw if something wasn’t done soon. Our location is on one of the main approaches into Norman and is defensible. Those in the know decided we would be one of several facilities to be fortified in an effort to stop the incursions, while in the areas with heavy refugee population, they are setting up defenses as well.

  We soon had Oklahoma National Guard soldiers sharing our compound. It also didn’t take long to realize the predators were not going to be discouraged very easily. The approaches into the fortified parts of Norman soon became a war zone.

  The number of people who flooded into the city is incredible. The large facility 2 klicks west of us is busting at the seams. The numbers of those that wish to take the place are frightening as well. How could such a pack of barbarians form so quickly? We have been fighting for weeks with little respite, interdicting attacks that approach on the highway to our south. We are holding, but our numbers have dwindled greatly. Here at Z-26A we
have four service members left and a handful of civilians willing to fight. There would be more, but fear, injury, and illness are rampant among the refugees. We asked for reinforcements, but the command structure is collapsing. They say things inside the fortified area are becoming dire. The predators will come again, but their numbers are dwindling as well. Their dead litter the ground outside the wire almost as far as we can see. It is simply a case of who remains standing at the end.

  They tell me our enemy approaches once again. Three soldiers and an airman will oppose them, along with a few brave and untrained people. The civilians do so because of our desperate situation. We servicemen do so because of duty. There are far worse things to fight for, so the four of us left will do battle, to the end if need be. Maybe this note survives. Maybe humanity survives as well. If so, somebody might wonder what happened here. I’d like to think we might be remembered and maybe we still have families that might want to know our fate. If nothing else, may we be remembered for doing our best in the worst situation.

  Written below the text was more, but in a different hand.

  I’m the only one left. I know Robert left this, so I’ll close it out. The gang came at us in force, but we stopped them. I don’t know how many times they attacked, but they finally pulled back. An hour ago, there were just two of us left facing fifty. We fell back to the sandbagged positions near the entrance to the facility. They came again, attacking from the east and south. We stopped them with machine gun fire and I know we hurt them badly. I came in here during a lull to get ammo. They hit us with something big and it collapsed the front of the facility by the entry. I am wounded and trapped. I don’t know if they’ll try and work their way inside. If they do, and if I can still fight, then I will. I tried to reach command by radio, but they no longer answer. I share Robert’s hope our folks might learn about us. The way things are, it might set their minds at ease. It looks like there’s a lot of dark days ahead and they’ll have more important things to focus on.