by C A Bird
A swishing noise alerted him to danger and he spun to see a man swinging a jack handle at his head. Throwing up his left arm, he caught the blow directly on his wrist. Paralyzing pain shot up his arm and he felt the bone fracture under the considerable force. With all the strength left in him Aaron brought his foot up and kicked the man squarely between the legs. The man screamed, falling to the concrete in pain. Aaron started to kick him again, but the man was crying, writhing on the ground and holding his groin. “You killed my brother, you bastard,” the man sobbed through clenched teeth.
Aaron glanced around the garage. It was full of tires and there were compressor-driven tools but the bays were empty and he saw nothing he could make use of. Holding his wrist and feeling sick Aaron went out into the street. There was a vacant lot across the street with open space beyond. He quickly crossed the road, passed through the lot and emerged onto a completely deserted dirt road. It was obvious that all the cars in town were gone. He had no transportation and radiation was undoubtedly spreading rapidly, although the wind was blowing toward the south. Hopefully that would delay exposure. He was very worried there would be additional explosions. He slumped onto a small brown patch of lawn in front of a tiny featureless house. The pain from his injuries nauseated him and he vomited on the lawn. He was trembling violently and having trouble staying upright. He just wanted to lie down and close his eyes.
He sat back on his knees and stared at the house. If only he’d heard the signaling device earlier or left right away when he did hear it, he may have beaten the news of the impending attack. But it was futile to speculate about that now.
His arm was partially numb. Feeling totally helpless and unable to think clearly he struggled to his feet, holding his injured arm against his side, and walked up to the front door. It was unlocked and he simply walked in. He searched the house, pulling open cupboards, trying to locate a splint for his arm. There were several large wooden spoons in a kitchen drawer, and in a cupboard over a washer and dryer in the laundry room, he found some small tools and a roll of duct tape. He held the tape between his legs, pulling up the edge with his good hand and unrolling a length measuring about a foot. He laid the tape on the washer and placed a spoon across it longwise. He gingerly laid his arm lengthwise along the spoon, laying a second spoon on top of his arm, which he noticed was already swelling and bruised. Fortunately, he couldn’t see any protruding bones. Using his good hand and his teeth he managed to turn the roll of tape around his arm and the spoons several times. It felt loose but at the rate his arm was swelling it would tighten all too soon. If he didn’t get to the shelter it wouldn’t matter anyway as he doubted he could survive for long unprotected. Finding a medicine cabinet containing a bottle of Excedrin, he gulped down the only three tablets contained in the bottle. He looked through the broken crystal on his watch to check the time. It was 3:46.
His stomach had settled and he helped himself to food and milk from the refrigerator. Feeling slightly better he left the house through a back door and crossed an overgrown lawn. A small wooden garage with the door standing wide open, and a smaller shed, stood behind the house. The garage was empty, so he limped to the shed and looked through a small side window, his heart leaping when he spotted an all-terrain-vehicle parked inside. The door was held shut by a rope threaded through the hasp and tied in a knot. He tried to untie the knot but found it impossible with only one hand. He took the knife from his pocket, managed to get it open with his teeth and sawed at the rope until he cut through.
The ATV, a Yamaha 348 cc Warrior, appeared to be well maintained and started immediately when he hit the electric starter. A red gas can sat on a tool bench and he was relieved to find it almost full. Topping off the two and a half gallon tank with considerable difficulty he drove out of the shed and again headed north. Only thirty-five miles to go.
His arm hurt like hell and his kidneys and teeth were feeling the effects of the ATV’s jouncing. Steering only with his right hand, his shoulder protesting every minute, he rode for almost two hours and was so completely exhausted he was in danger of falling off. At Taos he had headed east paralleling Highway 64. The dirt road he was following sometimes wound north or south but overall continued in a northeastern direction.
He was worried about running out of gas.
The sound of a blaring horn beyond trees to his right distracted Aaron and, losing his concentration, he failed to notice a large hole directly in front of the ATV. He saw it at the last minute, jerking hard to the right, but the ATVs front wheel caught the edge, dipped severely and it flipped into the air. Aaron, trying desperately to protect his injured arm, smacked his head against a jagged rock and the last thing he remembered was a feeling of wetness as he skidded into a roadside puddle.
August 21, 3:15 p.m.
Sangre de Cristo Mountains, NM
Mark accompanied the last group to descend in the elevator. The doors slid open and they stepped into a room that resembled an airlock, with a smaller door on the left and a large door directly before them. They waited while three men checked them with radiation detectors and, when no evidence of radiation was found, they passed through another airlock and finally stepped into a carpeted hallway. Turning left, they proceeded down the hall, turned right into an intersecting corridor and then left again into the back of a large auditorium where the other survivors had been led by Glen Mitchell. Mark gratefully sank into a seat toward the rear while Will strode to the front of the room and ascended some stairs to an angled podium on the side of a raised stage. Curtains were drawn back on either side of the stage.
“May I have your attention again, please,” Will spoke into a microphone. “I know you’re all bone tired so the primary objective this afternoon and evening is to get some food and rest. The gentleman who directed you here is Glen Mitchell, the caretaker of this facility. As soon as this meeting adjourns he’ll show you the first floor mess hall. The complex is probably considerably larger than you expected and I assure you it’s large enough to accommodate us all, in comfort, for a considerable length of time. We’ll monitor the parking area above for stragglers. Those of you here now left well ahead of the actual attack and I thank you for having faith in my message. It must have been very difficult to leave your homes and come here not knowing for certain an attack was going to occur. There will be others who started the journey after the public evacuation orders were given and others who will begin only after the initial explosions. I fear that those who delayed that long may not make it. We can handle approximately five hundred people and it looks to me as though there are about two or three hundred here now.
Quarters will be assigned to you. I’ll show you a schematic of the complex in just a minute. We have a complete communications center and will attempt to get news about the outside as soon as possible.”
He pressed a button on the podium and a large screen descended from the ceiling in the center of the stage. He flipped another switch and the lights dimmed in the room, another, and the screen showed a diagram. “The complex has three main levels, a control tower above and a couple of areas deeper in the mountain that house the reservoir and power plant. The computers in your quarters have this same diagram.”
He gave a brief description of the shelter to the exhausted and shell-shocked crowd.
“There are only a few locked doors although your apartments have deadbolts inside to lock your doors for privacy. Anyone here who came with someone else and doesn’t have an assigned room, see Glen. We will meet in this room again at 0900 in the morning for a more complete report. If you’ll remain here, Glen will announce room assignments and show you to the mess hall. Is there a Mister Crowder or Lowell here?”
A slightly built young man, in his early twenties, with his brown hair trimmed in military style stood up about halfway back in the audience. “I’m Micah Lowell.”
“Mr. Lowell, if you would be so kind, I would like you to come with me to the radio room after this meeting. I’ll need you to try communicating
with the outside.”
“Sure thing.” Lowell said. Mark was ready to follow him, interested in seeing what this control room consisted of.
Several hands shot up and questions were shouted from the crowd but Will held his hands up and said, “Please, I have much to do. All your questions will be answered at tomorrow’s meeting. Be back at 0900.”
Will stood surveying the little band of survivors. Everyone seemed to have calmed down although many faces were tear streaked and many dazed by the events of the day. He left them in Glen’s care and he Micah and Mark headed out the door.
They returned to the corridor that lead to the freight elevator but, instead, turned right at the intersection. Elevator doors were located forty feet down the hall but Will passed by them, and stopping before a second door he pulled out a key and unlocked it.
“What’s behind here that’s so valuable?” Micah asked.
“The room at the top of these stairs is one of the most important rooms in the facility, our nerve center, and we certainly don’t want it to be damaged by curiosity seekers.” Will replied.
They climbed a narrow flight of circular stairs that seemed to Mark like it would go on forever. Finally he asked Will, “Where the Hell does this staircase go? I’m humming ‘Stairway to Heaven’.”
“There’s an elevator, but I wanted you to be familiar with our little escape route and this gives you an idea of how far up the room is from the rest of the complex.” They continued to climb and eventually came to a landing and a door. Entering an alcove with three other doors, Will opened one and they went up a much shorter flight to another room. This door was unlocked and they entered a room crammed from one end to the other with radio, radar and monitoring devices with a computer console occupying the middle of the room.
“Whoooee, this is beautiful! Man I’ve never seen such equipment and I've been around the best the Air Force has to offer.” Micah was rushing about the room checking out the various instruments. “I mean this is fantastic! Space Shuttle? This is mission control.”
“Mr. Lowell, as far I can tell you’re the only communications expert who’s made it here so far. Darryl Washington, our computer expert hasn’t returned from town. I’m afraid that means you’ll have to put in some long hours, at least to begin with.”
Mark examined the readouts. “How come there’s only one monitor on?”
“There’s only one camera on. The other cameras and sensors are protected until I’m certain there won’t be any additional blasts. The mountain has been turned into one big Faraday cage to protect our equipment from EMPs and there are smaller Faraday cages with electronic components stored in them in case something sneaks through and we have to replace parts. The camera is focused on the parking area, Micah. When people show up you can contact Glen using his pager. If he doesn’t answer right away, call my beeper or use the paging system by depressing this button and speaking into the mike. It can be heard in all common areas of the shelter. Mark and I will also take shifts at the radio. There are other people who may be able to help us although I don’t know exactly who’s here yet. I’m afraid our cell phones are useless. The pagers are actually walkie-talkies and will work throughout the facility.”
“Do you really expect many more people to make it now that the fireworks have started?” Micah asked him.
“I really don’t know. I hope to God more people make it.”
“Won’t we have to worry about them being contaminated?” Mark asked. “Yes, it may come to a point where we may not be able to let them know of our presence if they get here too late. I hope Darryl gets here before then.” He went to a bookshelf and pointed out several notebooks. “The manuals are here for all the equipment and we’ll have to improvise with some of it. They’re all online as well. The main thing tonight is to try and make contact with authorities on the outside, or anybody for that matter. I'm going below to check on things.”
Micah went around the room turning on radios and other equipment. He pulled down a manual as Will and Mark exited and started down the stairs to the alcove. This time they took the elevator to the level below.
Numerous people were wandering the halls when the two men left the elevator. A few asked if they had heard anything yet but most seemed to be more interested in exploring the complex. Will and Mark went to the mess hall where a large group had gathered and were drinking coffee.
Mark spotted Chris across the room and started in her direction while Will stopped to speak to a group of several people.
Chris reached out and took his hand. “I’m so sorry about Jill, Mark. Maybe they’ll still get through.” He was touched that her first concern was for his family.
“I’m still in such a state of disbelief about this whole thing that I can’t really comprehend that she’s in trouble.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I wonder if Will stocked anything any stronger. I don’t know about the rest of these people but I sure could use a drink.” He smiled sadly at her.
Will walked over to them. “Have either of you seen Clay?”
Chris answered. “He was talking to some pretty young thing a few minutes ago. Said he was going to show her around, although I’ll wager he’s never been here before. Am I correct?”
“You’re correct. You know I would have told you if I’d told him. Clay likes to talk too much, especially if he thinks it would impress someone.”
“Come on Dad, don’t be so hard on Clay, after all it probably hasn’t been easy for him being your son.”
“Has it been hard for you being my daughter?”
“That’s different. People don’t expect as much from a daughter as they do a man’s son. I can’t believe you had this place built and nobody knew about it.”
“On the contrary, a lot of people knew. The government was fully aware of the shelter, in fact the land was purchased from them, and they fully supported and encouraged me. They especially supported the idea of it being built strictly with private funds. They know we’re here and I hope they’re trying to contact us. The majority of the construction people involved thought they were working on a military project and accepted the secrecy for that reason. None of them knew the exact location. Some of the construction workers who lived close by were chosen to come here. I don’t know yet if any made it. We’ll have a complete list of the people tomorrow. We also have a permanent staff of seven people. And Mark knew.”
She glanced at Mark and he hoped she didn’t take offense. After all, he didn’t know much about it.
“Your quarters are next to mine but we can change that if you like.” Her father smiled and winked at her. She felt relieved; her father seemed to smile too little anymore.
“I’m going to look around, see you guys later.” She reached up and kissed Will on the cheek.
“O.K. Babe. If you need me my number’s in the directory on the computer.” There were two computer terminals in the room and Mark had seen some in alcoves in the hallway.
As Chris walked away, Mark’s gaze following her, he knew she was the reason this shelter was built in the first place. He and Will walked over to the larger group that had gathered by the door.
One of the men, wearing a black suit, was addressing the others, “This was an opportunity to pick the very best of mankind, but it looks to me as though some rather undesirable types were selected. Oh, hello Hargraves,” he greeted Will as they joined the group. “I was just mentioning to these folks that there seem to be some . . .” and he lowered his voice as he glanced around at the rather scruffy-looking group of survivors, “. . .undesirable people in the group. They must have come on their own.”
Will bristled as he replied, “And just who do you consider to be undesirable, Mr. uh, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Richenour, Vernon Richenour. This is my wife Jennifer.” He indicated a mousy woman standing beside him who blushed when Will looked at her. Richenour looked fairly scruffy himself, his once natty suit rumpled and covered with something greasy. He normally combed
the long thin wisps of his hair completely across his bald pate but they now hung down in strings. He had red, soft appearing lips that lent the appearance of a perpetual sneer residing under an overlarge nose.
“Mrs. Richenour.” Will nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Mr. Richenour, I don’t seem to recall your name on my list. Exactly how did you know of this place? Or perhaps you came on your own?”
“Our daughter’s husband received one of your little boxes and they invited us. But, you know whom I mean. You could have weeded out bad seed so to speak.”
“Well, Richenour, you aren’t seeing these people in their best light. They’ve had a terrible shock. Or are you referring to other characteristics?”
“No, of course not.” He was intimidated by the terseness of Will’s reply and now was sorry he had started the conversation. “Would you please excuse us? I believe we’ll find our quarters now. Good day.”
The others in the group watched them leave and there was an embarrassed silence. “Will, I think I’ll check and see if anyone new has arrived.” Mark excused himself and left. As he ascended to the control tower he realized this wasn’t going to be any picnic.
“Hi Chief, how are things below? Got the flock settled down?” Micah greeted him enthusiastically.
“Yeah, most of them are getting something to eat. Why don’t you go on down. I can spell you here for a while. Have you picked up anything?”
“No sir, and I’ve tried every band. There’s a tremendous amount of static. The blasts may have temporarily disrupted the ionosphere, sort of a super sunspot effect. It could take days before it settles down. There’s been no sign of anyone on the monitor either. Wait a second!”
Mark quickly followed his gaze to the monitor and saw a swirl of dust enter the picture. A car sped into the lot and lurched to a stop. As a man jumped out, looking around frantically, a woman got out of the other side. She opened the back door and took a baby from a car seat all the while glancing fearfully to the south. Micah paged Glen and when he responded on the intercom Mark told him about the couple.
