by Mike Kraus
Bering Strait
March 26, 2038
Snow falls lightly around the shoulders of Commander Alexeyev as he and his men move quietly. Wrapped in thick jackets, the fifteen men are spread out in pairs a dozen yards apart to keep from stressing the ice. Though the ice was recorded by the Arkhangelsk as being nearly half a foot thick, there was no way to tell where it became thinner or thicker as they walked. Too many boots in one spot could weaken the ice enough to send the men crashing down into the water where only death awaited.
Alexeyev’s dark eyes peek out from behind his face covering, his greyed eyebrows bearing a hint of frost that has settled on them. Though the landscape is barren and harsh, with the near-frozen sea lurking inches under his boots, Alexeyev is not afraid or concerned. Growing up in the harsh climates of northern Siberia, his father died when he was thirteen, leaving only him and his older brother to care for his mother and sisters. The son of a diamond miner, Alexeyev and his brother both picked up their father’s occupation with the swiftness required to keep his family from starving to death.
A combination of harsh winters and poor working conditions spelled disaster for his family, and his brother and mother were both dead within three years of his father. Government programs provided him a way to continue taking care of his sisters, and he quickly joined the Russian Navy, sending his paychecks back home to ensure his last remaining family members would be secure. As the time passed on, Alexeyev became devoted to his occupation and it gradually changed from an opportunity to earn a living into a full-blown career. High testing scores and a persuasive smile helped him advance to the position of the commander of a vessel of his own.
Alexeyev pushes the memories of his family from his mind as the thoughts are stirred by the icy wind. After decades of service and the death of one of his two sisters to drug addiction, Alexeyev rarely has contact with his last remaining blood relative. They speak only once per year, and every time Alexeyev swears it will be the last. The military has been his mistress for his entire adulthood, and the demands it has made upon him have left him sacrificing any semblance of a family life.
The men behind the commander are quiet as they walk, though this is more out of a desire to conserve energy rather than to be stealthy. Their coats are a mottled grey and white, but their pants are black and grey, a stark contrast to the white blanket that stretches out in front and behind them. Every few moments, Commander Alexeyev raises a small pair of binoculars with his gloved hands and scans the horizon, checking for any sign of Americans.
Out on the ice, the Commander’s team is exposed and vulnerable, with nothing but a few handguns to defend themselves. Despite this and the obvious presence of the Arkhangelsk, his team has yet to see any signs of the Americans coming to investigate them. Dropping the binoculars down on the cord around his neck, the Commander pulls a radio out of his pocket.
“Alexeyev for Arkhangelsk.”
A second later, his second-in-command’s voice crackles through on the speaker, cutting through the wind that has been steadily increasing since they set foot on the ice.
“Aye, Commander?”
“We’re three kilometers out from the shore. Still no sign of the Americans. Requesting status on team two.”
“Team two reported in twenty minutes ago. They lost one of the snowmobiles in the ice, but no casualties. They expect to make landfall within the hour.”
Commander Alexeyev grunts in satisfaction. “We’ll update when we reach land. Alexeyev out.”
With a quick glance to the skies overhead, the commander redoubles his efforts, taking up a brisk walk and forcing his team to speed up in response. At the current rate of travel, Alexeyev estimates they’ll reach the shore before dark, giving them time to establish a small camp to guard against the freezing temperatures of the night.
Addressing the man walking a few feet away from him, Alexeyev doesn’t slow down as he speaks. “Kovalev, I’m leaving you in charge to set up the camp once we get to land. I’m taking two others to scout the area for a short time. If someone finds you, radio me immediately. Under no circumstances are you to engage any of the Americans, understand?”
The young man, no older than twenty-two, nods briskly. His nervousness is visible in his eyes, but he says nothing except for a curt “Yes, sir” to his commanding officer.
Alexeyev falls into silence again, leaving only the sound of the wind in the air. Dark clouds begin to form overhead, blotting out the already fading evening sun. Roiling as though they are heralding a great storm, the clouds bear no other characteristics of any storm front Alexeyev has seen in his career.
Rachel Walsh | Marcus Warden
5:14 PM, April 7, 2038
The low rumble of the APC’s engine grew softer as Rachel eased it to a stop in between two buildings that were, miraculously, still standing. Sam raised his head in response to the sound of the engine cutting off, sniffing the air as Rachel and Marcus both opened the small windows on their doors.
“Is the lab in one of these buildings?” Marcus craned his head to look up at the towering walls that surrounded them.
Rachel shook her head and pointed farther down the alley to where the corridor narrowed. “No, but I think this is as close as we’re going to get. Look down there. See where the alley dumps out into that street? The lab should be just across there.”
Marcus nodded and peered up at the dark sky. “If we hurry, we can go check it out and then get back here for the night.” Leaning back over the seat, Marcus patted Sam on the head and dug through his bag, taking stock of the food and water they had left. “Between the two of us I’d say we have enough supplies to make it another three days, tops, if we ration it.”
The radio in the APC crackled, startling Marcus who smacked his head on the roof as he turned back around.
“Rachel? Marcus? This is David, checking in on your progress. I lost sight of you a short time ago under the clouds and buildings. Is everything alright?”
Rachel picked up the radio and looked at Marcus as she spoke. “David, Rachel here. We just stopped right across from the lab. We’re parked between two intact buildings across the street. Can you make them out on the satellite?”
The sound of keystrokes and mouse clicks came through, followed by the relief in David’s voice. “Yes! I see them. Just follow that alley through and you’ll come to what’s left of the laboratory.”
Rachel grinned and Marcus nodded approvingly. “Nicely done, Rachel.”
“David, we’re going to make a quick run out to see what we’re dealing with before we come back and spend the night in the APC. We’re running low on food and water, though; do you know if there are any gas stations or convenience stores close by that might have survived?”
Another moment of keystrokes and clicks came through the radio and David spoke again. “Looks like you have six possibilities within a mile of the lab. Two gas stations, one small grocery store and three convenience stores. They’re all in the area of destruction, I’m afraid, but I’m sure that something would have survived in them. Just be careful of any radiation hotspots, though, in case the nanobots didn’t do a thorough job of cleaning up.”
“Right, we’ve got the APC’s emergency Geiger counter so we’ll pay attention. Can you direct us to where they might be?” A faint beeping sounded in the background from David’s end of the line.
“Damn! Sorry Rachel, the window’s closing. I need to check in with Leonard and Nancy before I lose their signal, too. I’ll round up the coordinates of the stores and send them to you when we next talk. Good luck, keep safe and I’ll radio back on the next window.” The line crackled again and went dead before Rachel or Marcus could respond. Rachel slowly replaced the radio back in its holder in the console of the APC. Reaching past Sam into the back of the APC again, Marcus grabbed a pair of rifles and water bottles and passed one of each to Rachel. They both double checked their rifles and the pistols that were constantly strapped to their thighs and exited the APC with
Sam close behind.
Walking through the rubble of the city after spending so much time in their vehicle was a fresh reminder of the hell that surrounded them. Behind inches of steel and reinforced glass, it was easy to treat the devastation like it was in another country or on another planet altogether. With their shoes crunching on broken glass and twisted metal, the destruction hit home once again. Marcus felt his heartbeat increase, though not as a result of any identifiable source in particular. The entire atmosphere of the city crept through him and he tightened his grip on his rifle.
Marcus and Rachel walked on opposite sides of the alley with Sam between them. Faint creaks and groans came from inside the buildings to their sides, a result of the wind blowing through and causing the structures to sway back and forth ever so slightly. Though they were still standing, their structural integrity had been compromised from being so close to the edge of a blast zone. Marcus kept a wary eye on the teetering walls as they exited the alley into the street beyond.
Even though Rachel and Marcus had seen enough destruction to be somewhat numbed to it, the decimated sight of their country’s capitol was enough to give them pause once again. The skies had cleared significantly since Leonard had passed through the area, but they were still dark, with ash and smoke spinning in the wind. In the distance, Rachel and Marcus could see the outlines of the federal monuments and other buildings no more than a few blocks away.
Marcus whistled softly as he and Rachel slowly crossed the street. “Leonard wasn’t kidding about this place. This is about the worst we’ve seen. I guess it makes sense, though.”
Rachel nodded. “Cut off the head and the snake dies. Any other hub will look like this as well. New York City, Moscow, Shanghai, Paris. Plus all of the secure places for government officials that were supposedly ‘safe’ from the bombs, too. The nanobots were efficient and thorough.”
On the other side of the street from the alley where the APC was parked, Rachel began to climb a partially intact wall that was slanted and contained enough foot and handholds to be easily ascended. “Wait there, I want to make sure this is the right place.”
Marcus stood nervously next to Sam, who kept still next to him, turning his head back and forth and alternating between light panting and cocking his head to the side at distant sounds. After several minutes, Rachel landed next to Marcus with a thud. “Jackpot.”
“This is it, eh?” Marcus nodded back to the pile of debris and half-fallen walls that had once been an imposing marble building.
“Oh yes, most definitely. I didn’t look too much, but I think we might be able to get in pretty easily, especially if we can get the APC in here to push some of the larger rubble out of the way.” Rachel pointed down the street toward the monuments. “I’m pretty sure we can get it right up here if we circle back around and come up that road.”
Marcus glanced up at the sky and frowned at the rapidly diminishing light. “We’ll do that tomorrow. Right now we need to get back. I’m not all that interested in being out on the streets at dark.”
Rachel nodded and took off with Sam toward the APC, followed closely by Marcus. The creatures had yet to make themselves known in the city, but as the trio climbed back into the vehicle, Marcus had the distinct feeling that they were being watched.
Early the next morning, Rachel was the first to awaken, followed quickly by Sam and Marcus. They shared a small meal in the back of the APC before cautiously venturing out to get a fresh look at their surroundings. In the full light of the day, the city looked worse than it had the previous night, though not by much. After checking the nearby streets for any signs of the creatures, Marcus hopped in the driver’s seat while Rachel navigated, directing them through several winding alleys and streets until they reached the main street that passed through Pennsylvania Avenue and right past the remains of the laboratory.
Unlike Leonard, Rachel and Marcus had both seen the capitol in person on multiple occasions. Rachel had long since numbed to the sight of the militarized White House due to its proximity to her job, but Marcus felt a chill upon seeing it again. His high profile life as a marketer in New York had insulated him from the growing turmoil in the political structure of the country. Though Marcus had been quite aware of the changes going on, most of them didn’t affect him due to his position, so he chose to ignore them, faced with reality only on an occasional vacation or business trip to the capital. There he would try to avoid going through the center of the city, but the flow of traffic inevitably brought him passing by, forcing him to face the high walls, camouflage netting and razor wire.
Spending most of her time in DC underground, Rachel was similarly insulated from some of the more recent governmental changes, though before she was hired she still worked in the private sector for companies that both made and were impacted by sweeping legislative changes. A continuation of the drastic changes around the turn of the millennium, increasingly corrupt officials clamped down on the city, effectively sealing its decision-making processes off from the rest of the country.
HFSPAN – a descendent of CSPAN – was banned from the floors of the House and the Senate and a requirement to make most votes public was rescinded, meaning that no one knew what their representative’s true stance on issues really was. High profile members of Congress received Secret Service protection and were escorted through underground tunnels and in disguised motorcades to and from their destinations. Tourism in the capitol was briefly shut down, with no outside visitors allowed to cross the borders of the district. After the local economy began to collapse, this decision was quickly changed, and tourists were again allowed in, albeit under strict new rules and regulations. The major buildings of government were closed off and held under tight armed guard, with special roped-off areas put in place for individuals to view the buildings from a distance and take photos. For the high profile areas such as the monuments and the White House, a combination of militarization, armed guards and special “tourism kiosks” were established.
Factions formed within the government to try and wrest control from the two major parties, but the elaborate dance of lies and betrayals kept them in power despite several well-planned attempts to roll back the more draconian policies. In the midst of all the changes that occurred, few people stood up in public to ask why such a radical response was necessary. The blossoming threat of war in the Middle East was commonly cited as a reason, despite the fact that no attacks on American soil had been made in recent history. This nebulous fear was pervasive throughout the country, with few recognizing what was happening right under their noses.
The ones who realized what changes were taking place were terrified, and many held fanciful ideas about the government being controlled by a shadow group intent on world domination. While the core of this belief held a small kernel of truth, most of the details were patently false. Instead of working to cause the turmoil in the nation, small groups worked to take advantage of the turmoil, harvesting profits and power from it like taking a scythe to a field of wheat. The idea of a shadow government was yet another distraction that helped mask the truth that greed and lust for power ultimately ruled the day.
Rachel silently berated herself for not seeing it sooner and for not realizing who – or what – Mr. Doe actually was before it was too late. A man of immense power and connections, he was not a person who would easily slip away in a disaster, and the chaos that he had willingly contributed to would, she swore, not go unpunished. Slowly but surely, Rachel began to accept who the true progenitors of the end of the world were instead of constantly blaming herself.
Turning to the side and pretending to watch the remains of the White House pass by, Rachel wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, hoping that Marcus was too focused on the drive to pay close attention to her. Moments later, when the engine cut off in front of the laboratory, she felt his hand on her shoulder as he spoke.
“It’s not your fault, Rachel. It never was.”
With a deep breath Rachel drew her emotions
back in, refusing to let herself become vulnerable at such a critical time. She hopped out of the APC without looking back at Marcus. Disappointed by her decision, Marcus sighed and jumped out after her. I suppose there’ll be a better time for this. Hopefully. Rachel’s unwillingness to reveal her emotions beyond her brief outburst back at the armory worried him, particularly since they were about to undertake work that would strain them both to their mental and physical limits. If Rachel were to crack, the efforts of all four of them – plus David – would be for naught.
Leonard McComb | Nancy Sims
7:15 AM, April 8, 2038
Driving through the plains between Cincinnati and Kansas City was boring at best, despite the numerous distractions and obstacles blocking the road. Portions of the area were familiar to Nancy , bringing back memories of her drive in the opposite direction no more than a few days ago. Nancy’s face contorted as she recalled the abuse at the hands of Joshua and Richard, followed by her escape with James. Though the memories were still fresh, Nancy found herself able to cope with them substantially better than she had before she met Marcus, Rachel and Leonard. Bonding with a group of survivors over their collective situation was strengthening, and had given her courage that she hadn’t realized she’d possessed.
