by Bobby Akart
The group became quiet as they contemplated life on the cattle trail and enjoyed their dinner. Major looked around at this group of people from diverse backgrounds. The Mexicans had been adopted for all intents and purposes by the Armstrong family. They’d arrived at the ranch alone, sometimes having walked for days after arriving in America.
Eventually, at the Armstrongs’ insistence, they became citizens, and then they made arrangements to bring their families to Texas through the proper processes, something Major insisted upon.
Everyone was given a job and a sense of purpose. Nobody got a free ride, including the children. Earlier that day, he and Lucy had laughed at how much their numbers had multiplied over the past few years since Major’s retirement from the Texas Rangers. There was no particular reason for the increased number of children on the ranch other than coincidence.
He and Lucy had not been blessed with grandchildren, which was just fine at this stage in their lives, but it was indeed a joy to see the young ones play when they gathered at the barns or up at the barnyard.
Preacher, who was much like a grandfather to all of these kids, enjoyed when the group got together for special occasions like July 4th, Cinco de Mayo, or Christmas. The kids enjoyed playing a game of hide-and-seek with Preacher, or a form of tag in which he was always it.
Major and Lucy enjoyed the spectacle, and it did cause them to long for grandkids of their own. Watching Preacher interact with the children was the best part for Major, who referred to the activity as toddler wrangling. He’d always been familiar with the phrase like herding cats. From Major’s perspective, chasing around a bunch of young’uns was more like toddler wrangling, a term that needed no further explanation.
As the group laughed and told jokes, Major finished up the last of his meal and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Thank you for taking care of us, Miss Lucy.”
“Honey,” she began, “I have to say this is nice. You know, peaceful and relaxing, without the external stresses created by life in general, you know?”
“Yeah, and if our kids could just find their way home, life would be pretty darn good.”
Lucy pulled her husband close and whispered in his ear, “There’s no doubt in my mind, dear. I’ve never been as sure of something in my life except for the fact that I’ve always loved you.”
Major smiled and provided her another kiss on the cheek. “I have no doubt whatso—” He finished his statement, but Lucy couldn’t hear it.
A thunderous boom cracked high above the ranch, startling everyone, including some of the ranch hands, who instinctively dropped their plates and fell to the ground. All heads were lifted skyward, and their eyes stared at the spectacular flame created by the speeding object above them.
“Asteroid?” asked Preacher.
“Too small, maybe a meteor or something,” replied Major.
Several members of the group were now standing and slowly walking toward the east as the object sped across the night sky.
“Where’s it headed?” asked Lucy.
“Due east,” replied Preacher. “Toward Dallas or even beyond that to Shreveport.”
Everyone stood silently as the object became smaller in the sky and disappeared from view. The hands were talking amongst themselves in Spanish when another boom was heard.
Major jumped and turned his head to the south. “Again? Something’s wrong, Preach.”
Off in the distance toward San Antonio, a similar bright flash was accompanied by an object streaking toward earth.
“That’s goin’ toward Houston!” exclaimed Preacher. “Major, this ain’t no meteor storm. Do you think they’re nukin’ us now?”
Major ignored the question and grabbed Lucy by the shoulders. “Honey, get the radio and see what you can find out.”
“I will. Do we need to go to the bunker?”
“I don’t know. Grab the radio.”
Major swung around to Preacher. “Tell the hands to wait here. I need you to go down to the bunker and get it ready. Take Antonio with you. By the time you come back, we’ll know whether to gather everyone again.”
Preacher gave instructions to the men and their wives before hustling off to the underground bunker with Antonio.
Major slowly walked away and stared in the direction of Dallas and Houston. Each city was nearly five hundred miles away, too far for the naked eye to register an explosion even as big as a nuclear strike. As he studied the horizon, he heard the sound of the radio as Lucy ran back outside.
“Major! Major! It’s the emergency action notification. Listen!”
She ran toward him, holding the radio in the air, which was playing at full volume. The robotic, text-to-speech voice of ScanSoft Tom repeated the words.
“We interrupt our programming. This is a national emergency. From the Fusion Center in Austin, stand by for an emergency action notification message issued by President Burnett.”
The new president’s voice came onto the radio. “My fellow Texans, this is not a drill. We have an emergency situation. It is imperative you take cover and shelter in place. Let me repeat this. The United States and Texas are under attack. This is not a drill. Take cover now and shelter in place until further notice. God bless you all.”
Major turned to a couple of the hands who spoke the best English. He gave them instructions to gather everyone as quickly as possible and bring them into the shelter like they’d done before. He reminded them to bring their weapons, perishable foods, and a minimum amount of clothing.
His extended family ran for their horses and took off in all directions. Major shook off the night air and the chill that had run up his spine when he heard the notification. He turned to his crying wife and comforted her.
“Listen up, Miss Lucy. We’ve got this. We’ve had a dry run, and everyone knows what to do.”
Lucy lifted her apron and wiped the tears from her face. “I know. It’s the kids, Major. They’re out there alone, and that madman is shooting rockets at us. What is wrong with this world?”
She began sobbing again, and Major wrapped his arms around her and whispered a prayer. “Lord, I pray You protect our children. Keep evil far from them and help them through this madness. We trust You to guide them in their decisions and to give them encouragement in the presence of this dangerous time. Help them, Lord. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Lucy began to calm down, and she stood on her toes to kiss Major. They held each other for another moment in silence until Preacher shouted for them.
“Did you hear? We’re under attack!”
Major looked down into his wife’s eyes, and she smiled back as she nodded. “I’m ready.”
“Yeah, we heard,” shouted Major.
Preacher ran up to them, arriving out of breath. “Come on, y’all. You two need to get into the bunker.”
“Miss Lucy, go on down and get set up. Preacher and I will—” began Major before being interrupted.
“No, both of you,” said Preacher. “We’ll round everyone up. You guys need to get safe and monitor the radio.”
“But—” started Major.
“Boss, no arguments. Please. I don’t have time to hog-tie y’all.”
Major looked at Lucy, who nodded agreement. “Okay, hurry, Preach. It’s not our time to die.”
Chapter 8
December 1
Kingsbury Colony, Montana
Palmer emerged from the back bedroom and joined her brothers. Cooper and Riley had slipped through the plastic sheeting protecting the kitchen door and loaded up several armfuls of firewood to store inside for the night. They had just finished stoking the fire and sat cross-legged on the floor to absorb the heat when Palmer arrived. Cooper patted the floor between him and Riley with the palm of his hand, indicating Palmer should join them. The boys slid to the side so she could slide in between.
“How is he?” asked Cooper, who’d competed against Pacheco and Morales on several occasions. He knew the Brazilians to be tough hombres. That cough, however, didn’t so
und very good.
“I don’t know, y’all,” started Palmer. “He’s definitely not gettin’ better. But he’s not dyin’ either. He needs a doctor, but obviously that’s not gonna happen anytime soon with missiles flyin’ around.”
“Did Fiorella calm down?” asked Riley.
“Yeah. In a way, takin’ care of Morales is good for her. It keeps her mind off her husband being on the road. Pacheco helps too. She’s fascinated by Brazil and how both guys’ families came to Texas. It passes the time, you know?”
Cooper nodded and leaned in closer to his younger siblings. “Me and Riley have been talkin’. Assuming, of course, we don’t get nuked into oblivion tonight, we’ve gotta make a decision.”
Palmer put her hand up. “First off, do you think we might get nuked? Fiorella doesn’t seem to think so.”
“I don’t know, sis,” answered Riley. “I’ve seen a few movies about nuclear wars and stuff. Who knows if they’re accurate? It just seems to me that it would have happened by now. I mean, it’s been more than an hour since those things flew over our heads. I’m thinkin’ North Korea is toast at this point.”
“Which means they can’t shoot back,” added Cooper.
“It also means that any nukes they fired our way would’ve hit already,” Palmer deduced. “I take it y’all think we’re in the clear.”
“I reckon we’ll know for sure in the next hour, but, yeah, I think we’re good,” said Cooper.
Morales began to cough again, and Pacheco darted through the living room into the kitchen. He could be heard filling up a pitcher of water, and then he moved quickly back to the bedroom without even a glance in their direction.
“What if the Russians or Chinese decide to finish us off or something?” asked Riley before adding, “They could do it, you know.”
Cooper shrugged and briefly closed his eyes before commenting. “I suppose they could, but what purpose would it serve? Most times, countries go to war to take the other country’s stuff—like gold, oil, or territory. If they reduced America to a nuclear wasteland, what would be the point?”
“They might do it ’cause they hate us,” replied Palmer. “I truly believe every country in the world is jealous of us. They’d love to see us knocked down to our knees.”
“True, but we’ve already been knocked down to our knees,” said Cooper. “We’re the only nation on the planet without electricity.”
Riley and Palmer both nodded in agreement. The three sat in silence for a moment as they attempted to overhear Morales discussing his pain with Fiorella. He was looking for pain medications, and she explained that her supply was running low.
“Coop, what were y’all talkin’ about when I came out of the bedroom?” asked Palmer.
Cooper leaned forward and confirmed that neither Pacheco nor Fiorella were moving toward the open doorway.
“Palmer, I don’t believe we’re gonna get hit, and I think that Air Force base down by Great Falls would’ve been hit already. We’ve gotta make a decision.”
“You know, like the old song,” interrupted Riley. “Should I stay or should I go, nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah.”
Palmer elbowed her brother in the chest, drawing a playful moan in protest.
“Our original plan was to leave at first light,” continued Cooper. “Are we jerks to leave these guys alone in the middle of a nuclear war? I’ve tried to put myself in Pacheco’s shoes. Would I be pissed if he and Morales ditched us here?”
“What did you decide?” asked Palmer.
“Truth?” asked Cooper.
“Yeah.”
“I’d probably be pissed, but, in the end, I’m glad it’s not me being left behind. We’ve gotta do what’s best for us, you know?”
Riley leaned in and whispered, “Family first, you guys. I know Daddy would agree.”
Palmer thought quietly for a moment, and she began to rock back and forth before she registered her opinion. “I’ve kinda thought about this already, but about a different issue.”
“What?” asked Cooper.
She continued. “Daddy packed us the IOSAT tablets, the masks and the three RAD stickers to detect radiation. We each have the same package in our backpacks. I thought about whether we should share with them.”
Cooper raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought about that. Once again, he was torn between being selfish and survival.
“I think we should do this,” started Riley. “We’ve got these guys pretty well sealed up in here. Plus, Coop found that woodworking mask over there. They can all stay in here until this passes over, if it even happens. If one of them has to go out, they can use that mask.” He pointed toward the side table with the N100 particulate mask sitting on top.
“We could spare one of our RAD stickers so they can check for radiation,” added Palmer. “We’d still have two left.”
Cooper looked toward his backpack and double-checked to make sure they would not be disturbed. He quickly crawled across the floor, unzipped an outer pocket, and rooted around until he found the RAD sticker. He handed it to Palmer. “Here, you give it to her. You’ve got the best relationship with her, I think.”
Palmer took the small cardboard radiation detector and slipped it into the pocket of her blue-green plaid flannel shirt.
“What about the tablets?” asked Riley. “That’s what they’ll need to stay alive.”
“No!” Palmer and Cooper whispered in unison.
Palmer took the lead. “We can’t give those up. Momma told me how the radiation slips into your body and invades your thyroid. Even if the radiation doesn’t kill us, we could get cancer and there’s all other kinds of ways for our organs to fail.”
“Yeah,” interjected Cooper. “We’ve got a long way home. We can’t risk giving up something this valuable. It’s worth its weight in gold and then some.”
Palmer chuckled and whispered to the guys, “Do you know what one of those packs cost?”
“Uh-uh,” grunted Riley.
“About eight bucks on Amazon,” said Palmer. “Somethin’ this cheap can save your life right now.”
The three immediately stopped talking and separated slightly as Fiorella returned to the room. Pacheco stayed behind with his friend.
“Did you kids get something to eat?” she asked.
“Oh, no, we totally forgot about the food,” replied Cooper, who was telling the truth. He rose off the floor and extended his arms to assist Palmer, then Riley, off the floor. Can we fix you a plate, ma’am?”
“No, thanks. But you three eat. I’m going to fix Pacheco something. I don’t think he’ll leave his friend’s side.”
Palmer led the guys toward the kitchen, and Fiorella joined them. Palmer inquired about the condition of their patient, and Fiorella was as unsure of his fate as Palmer was.
The answer to every question posed to Fiorella, including when or if the next bombs would drop, was time will tell.
Chapter 9
December 1
Raven Rock Mountain Complex
Liberty Township, Pennsylvania
The president insisted upon spending a moment alone with her husband in their living quarters. His words of encouragement fell flat as the gravity of the situation began to crush her psyche. Over his protests, she downed a glass of wine and poured herself another before the gentle tapping at her door forced her to set the glass aside. She couldn’t understand why they couldn’t just give her a moment. She’d ordered the retaliatory strike. It was now up to the country’s missile defenses to do their job and protect them.
“Madam President, we’re needed in the situation room,” said her chief of staff through the door. “The first damage assessments will be coming through shortly.”
President Harman closed her eyes and exhaled. Visions of Hollywood blockbuster movies crossed through her mind—buildings obliterated, bodies melting from heat and radiation, debris from the blast killing countless people, leaving body parts strewn about in its wake.
Why do I need to he
ar the details? Just get me when it’s over.
The knocking started again, this time more forceful. “Ma’am, please. We’re needed—”
The president barked her response. “I get it, James. Hold on.” She considered knocking back the second glass of wine but opted for some breath mints instead, curiously annoyed that they weren’t sugar-free.
Without addressing her husband, she flung the door open and marched past Acton. She turned slightly, imagining the two men in her life were giving one another the look. Lucky for them, they weren’t. She was in a mood and not to be trifled with. Her dreams of ascending to the presidency to help the poor had been erased. She now presided over the end of the American empire.
President Harman entered the situation room of Raven Rock without any formal announcement. The pomp and circumstance typically afforded a president was set aside, as more important matters were at hand. The first North Korean ICBMs had struck the U.S. mainland.
“Madam President,” started acting Defense Secretary Evans, “we have our first damage reports from the initial launches by the DPRK. Within moments, our THAAD systems will be engaging the final wave of ICBMs as they reenter the atmosphere.”
“Before you begin, Clayton, what is the ETA on our rockets?” she asked.
“Nine minutes for the first wave and twenty-two minutes for the wave just launched,” he replied.
“Okay, proceed with the damage assessment.”
“Guam was the first to be hit, ma’am,” began Evans. “Our tertiary measures failed to intercept the first missile launched by the DPRK. The island suffered a direct hit. Based upon our initial analysis, this was a three-hundred-kiloton nuclear warhead, roughly equivalent to our original W87 Minuteman IIIs. All infrastructure on Guam has been destroyed with only a few buildings’ skeletal remains visible. Eighty percent of the local population has most likely perished and the remaining injured upon impact.”
The president shook her head. “How many dead? Best estimate.”
