Until Nothing Remains: A Hybrid Post-Apocalyptic Espionage Adventure (A Gun Play Novel: Volume 1)
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“I hope so.”
“Stop hoping and start knowing,” she said, then paused. “I do have a question for you. Something caught my eye while I was inside the store…something that seemed rather odd to me.”
“Like what?”
“I saw a small pile of money on the counter,” Natalia said. “All hundreds. Did you put it there?”
“I might have.”
“Okay. Why?”
I shrugged. “To pay for the gas we needed. And also for the map and snacks and the laptop I took.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Laptop?”
“For making contact at some point.”
“You realize, of course, you didn’t have to pay for any of those things.”
“I know I didn’t.”
“Yet you did anyway,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
I thought a moment. “I guess I wanted to. I shoot people for a living, but I’m no common thief.”
Natalia’s face slowly lit up and a smile crept across it. “Well, Quinn Barrett. My hard-as-nails, unwavering, no-remorse, contract-killer husband. Could it be true? Has a miracle occurred unbeknownst to us? Could you somehow be developing a conscience?”
Within the hour, and with a full tank of gas in the guzzler, we crested the Blue Ridge Mountains and I pulled into a small commuter parking lot alongside Route 50 at Ashby Gap to take in the view.
With Natalia napping, I decided it would be a good time to gather some last-minute intel. I stepped out and closed the door as quietly as possible, then made my way to the rear of the truck to gather the devices needed to make contact. My nose caught the arid aroma of wood smoke lingering in the air, while the memories of my youth started to scroll across my mind’s eye. I soon realized that my recollections of the life I’d once known in the valley below hadn’t gone anywhere, despite my efforts to suppress them and purge them from memory.
Gunnery Sergeant Blaylock had told us at the onset of boot camp that at the point of coming under his command, we were no longer the people we once were. We had therefore ceased to be the owners of the names printed on our birth certificates, social security cards, and driver’s licenses. The lives we had once lived had ended, and we were thereby commanded to be born again. From that point forward, we had all begun new lives as Marines.
I’d put my full belief in what he said, consecrated it, and used buckets of willpower to vehemently push away my previous life. There wasn’t much about it worth remembering, anyway. My past hadn’t exactly been a colorful one. In seeing the view below and to my west, I recognized now, I hadn’t done a good enough job of interring the old me. Gunny wouldn’t be pleased.
I connected the Iridium satellite telephone to my newly acquired Dell, surprised to see it still had about three-quarters of its battery life remaining. After inserting my USB fob and rebooting it, I snapped a battery onto the sat phone and dialed into the internet. Once the connection was verified by means of the tether, I performed the final steps to secure the connection, connected to the message board via Tor, and began typing.
AZRAEL: ROCKY4, REQUEST SITREP. ARE YOU OPERATIONAL? BREAK.
I wasn’t sure if Jonathon would even bother being connected, with everything that was happening now. He surprised me yet again when his reply came about a minute later.
ROCKY4: OSCAR KILO? FANCY MEETING YOU HERE. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? THE CITY IS CRAZY, BRO. THESE ATTACKS ARE CRAZY! IT’S NUCKIN’ FUTS! HAVE YOU AND YOUR COMPANION ARRANGED FOR EXFIL? BREAK.
Our normal comms protocol was being cast by the wayside. Either he was drunk or didn’t give a shit, or both.
AZRAEL: AFFIRMATIVE. MYSELF AND COMPANION HAVE ACHIEVED EXFIL. MADE ARRANGEMENTS WITH EFG ZüRICH. HAVE YOU RECEIVED YOUR HONORARIUM? WAS SUM ADEQUATE? PLEASE ADVISE. BREAK.
ROCKY4: AFFIRMATIVE. THANK YOU. AND THANK YOU AGAIN. SUM WAS VERY FUCKING ADEQUATE. TEN PERCENT OF TWENTY MIL? IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE THIS FACE.
I could only envision the smile. Admittedly, I felt warm at the thought of his happiness. I only hoped he could remain that way.
A moment went by before he resumed typing, and I allowed it to pass, having not yet seen him key in a break.
ROCKY4: GLAD YOU AND COMPANION ARE SAFE. PLEASE DO WHATEVER YOU CAN TO REMAIN THAT WAY. CAN YOU ADVISE LOCATION AND DESTINATION? BREAK.
My reply was immediate.
AZRAEL: NEGATIVE. BREAK.
I shuddered at the thought of anyone besides Natalia and me knowing our whereabouts, especially now. Especially with so many already being aware we were here, and countless affiliates of the nefarious underworld wanting us dead.
Even as much as I trusted Jon, there wasn’t any way I would come clean with that info. This wasn’t the time to start developing bad habits and breaking protocol.
ROCKY4: THIS CHANNEL IS SECURE, QUINN. COULD YOU AT LEAST ADVISE GENERAL LOCATION OR GRID COORDINATES? I MIGHT WANT TO FIND YOU SOMEDAY. BREAK.
AZRAEL: NEGATIVE. SECURE OR NOT, THERE ARE EYES AND EARS EVERYWHERE. HAVE YOU OBTAINED ANY NEW INTEL ON ATTACKS? BREAK.
Jonathon didn’t respond immediately. I took that to mean he was either satisfied with my answer or utterly dissatisfied with it.
ROCKY4: AFFIRMATIVE. ENOUGH INTEL TO KEEP ME BUSY FOR TWO CONSECUTIVE BENDERS. WILL ADVISE AT NEXT F2F. I’LL LEAN ON YOU TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN. BE SAFE. CLEAR ON YOUR FINAL TX. BREAK.
After bidding him farewell, I extricated the USB fob, and the laptop shut down instantly. I used the Glauca B1 to break apart the laptop into two pieces and separate it from its power source to render it inoperable, not having found any other method to remove its battery.
I glanced over the hood of the Denali and down into the valley where we were headed, and started to contemplate a moment just before hearing a commotion behind me. I turned to see what it was just as an old, rusty, beat-up pickup truck crested the top of the mountain with its driver and passengers singing loudly to the country music blaring from the truck’s speakers. Even at the truck’s high rate of speed, it was easy to see that the passenger with his arm hanging out the window had a bottle of liquor in his grasp. In fact, I could almost surmise what brand it was by the shape of the bottle and color of its label.
“Fantastic,” I said. “Welcome back, Quinn. Home sweet home.”
I got back in the truck and took a quick glance at Natalia, who was doing her best to remain asleep, recalling the unsure look in her eyes I’d seen earlier, and wondering if I was wearing a look to match. Though our intentions had been the opposite, we were once again preparing to tread into unfamiliar territory.
Our futures had always been arbitrary. To date, we’d lived our lives spur of the moment, and tomorrow would be no different. What we were about to face was truly unprecedented, and despite Natalia’s unwavering trust in me, I had to admit I was having a hard time trusting myself. I wasn’t sure which move was the right one to make…the one that would keep us both safe and secure. I didn’t even know if that move existed, and I hadn’t the slightest clue what tomorrow would bring for us.
I could see the outline of Great North Mountain directly ahead, across the valley to our west. It acted as a backdrop for the town and the county where I’d once lived, up until my early teenage years. Familiar landmarks were calling to me, almost as if they knew where I was headed. It was a strange feeling being here again. This place hadn’t been home to me in years, but it still felt like it, in a way. Hopefully, we would indeed find temporary refuge here.
I placed my hand on Natalia’s forearm, noticing her skin felt warmer to the touch than it had earlier. The back of my hand transferred to her forehead, and I could sense a similar heat radiating there as well. She was a warm sleeper and I wanted to believe it was just that, but there was no way of knowing for sure. If Natalia was developing an infection from her wounds, it was going to seriously compound our problems. The antibiotics provided so graciously by my agency contact would help, but if the infection worsened, it would require a distinct augmentation
to our plans.
I’d never been a worrier by nature, but what was happening here was really getting to me. Would this series of attacks, with supposedly no end in sight, spell the end of times for the United States? With regard to the country itself, its politicians and the government, I couldn’t care less. But the people living here were different.
Natalia was right about them, at least the majority of them. They didn’t deserve what was coming to them. War was one thing, democide another, but this was an outright extermination of a species. It was a primordial ideology, prone and well adapted to violence, choosing to unleash Armageddon on a society that, on the whole, had done nothing to deserve it.
And then there were the children to consider. Who targeted and attacked schools full of young kids? Such heinously cruel acts of violence shouldn’t be tolerated, much less permitted to exist on this planet. Something had to be done about it. Natalia had been right about that, too.
Then it dawned on me. Could I, in fact, be developing a conscience? I considered it a moment, especially after what Natalia had pointed out concerning my negligible act of charity at the store, then contemplated the long list of ramifications. I thought I’d postpone answering the question until the next chapter in our lives began. At this point in our story, with so many other ambiguities to consider, I felt it was only best.
Twenty
Millwood, Virginia
Saturday, March 29
Nihayat al’ayam plus 1 day, 9 hours, 15 minutes
Elisabeth Young felt beat after working what had turned out to be a very prolonged and arduous shift, both inside and even outside the emergency room.
The airliner crash on the Blue Ridge east of town had effectuated hundreds of casualties, most of whom, it turned out, hadn’t been passengers on board the aircraft. Rather, they had been homeowners, tenants, and their families living within and along the damage path. The number of residential casualties had been abetted by scores of government employees, all of whom had been working in their aboveground offices at Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center when the plane had gone down.
In December 1974, Trans World Airlines Flight 514, a Boeing 727 with eighty-five passengers and seven crew members on board had been the first ever to crash into the mountain. And up until a short time ago, it had also been the only one.
The Southwest 737 in transit to BWI Airport yesterday, along with its full complement of passengers and crew, hadn’t bisected the eighteen-hundred-foot mountain like its predecessor had. Instead, its flight path had been unique, appearing to have been purposefully aligned in parallel with the summit. It had dropped from the sky and swooped down directly on top of it, as if the pilot had been using the heavily forested ridgeline as a runway.
Estimated to have been moving at near cruising velocity, the plane had sliced through and collided with several federal office buildings before skimming through a parking lot littered with cars, bounding over a tree line, and exploding into a neighborhood of occupied homes just north of the FEMA facility. All told, it had left behind a corridor of fiery devastation stretching nearly a mile long.
After her normal shift had concluded, and without regard for how tired she had been, Elisabeth had done something she ordinarily wasn’t compelled to do. With concern for the area’s well-known and often discounted deficiency of emergency first responders, she had volunteered to ride along with an already overworked and overextended ambulance crew.
Elisabeth was a registered trauma nurse, but had already completed her one hundred hours of didactic education, clinical competencies, and field internship, as required by the Virginia Nurse to Paramedic Bridge Program. As such, she had been able to fill in as an interim EMS team leader.
The crew had taken Elisabeth along with them to the grizzly scene of the crash. There, they had treated and stabilized patients and transported them to either Inova Hospital’s Trauma Unit in Loudoun County or the renowned Level II Trauma Center at Winchester Medical Center, where Elisabeth worked.
On their final voyage back to WMC to reunite Elisabeth with her vehicle so she could return home, they’d stumbled upon an MVA, or motor vehicle accident, at the base of the mountain, just past the bridge over the Shenandoah River. It appeared an older-model pickup truck had pulled out in front of a sizeable modern sport utility vehicle. The driver of the truck either hadn’t been paying attention or hadn’t seen the much larger vehicle coming. The SUV looked to have collided with the truck broadside, entangling the vehicles and sending them both off-road and into the trees and brush.
Upon spotting the skid marks on the road and the wreckage up ahead, Brad DeHaven, a veteran paramedic and ambulance driver, had flipped on the lights and sirens and called the incident in over the radio. When he pulled off the road beside the smoking, steaming heap of gnarled vehicles, Elisabeth had leapt from the rear of the ambulance with two junior EMTs in tow. They’d dashed to the scene, medical kits in hand, all expecting to witness yet another episode of unpleasantness.
On their approach, they encountered a couple, one male and one female, appearing to have been the previous occupants of the black SUV. They were standing outside and behind the wreckage, and with the exception of some minor scratches and torn portions of clothing, seemed to be uninjured. The resultant preliminary analysis for the driver and two passengers in the other vehicle did not seem nearly as promising.
Elisabeth ordered the other EMTs over to the truck while reminding them to watch their distance and be ready in the event it suddenly caught fire. “Environmental hazards first, you two. Remember your safe operating area. If you smell gas fumes, it’s already too late.” She turned her attention to the couple after making certain Brad was moving in to follow up with his junior techs. “My name’s Elisabeth. I’m a registered trauma nurse and a paramedic.” She set her kit on the ground and slid on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, then studied the couple with a keen stare and knowledgeable eyes, notwithstanding her exhaustion. “Were the two of you in the black truck?”
The man nodded a casual response while peering over at the mangled automobile.
“Okay…how many were in the vehicle with you when you crashed?” she asked. While awaiting their reply, Elisabeth considered the two victims spared by the accident. Both possessed a set of striking features, and there was a certain presence about them that seemed very much out of the ordinary. It was giving her a strange sensation, though she couldn’t figure out why.
The man was handsome, tall, and muscular, and he had short, well-groomed hair and grayish-blue eyes, which seemed capable of staring straight through her. He carried himself confidently, in a manner seeming almost arrogant, though Elisabeth could only surmise it as such by his unflustered and nonchalant expression. She couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated by him.
His female counterpart, though about a half-foot shorter, was also muscular and had a very feminine, athletic build. She appeared in good shape, and she had glowing olive-hued skin and shiny light brown hair, and her smile, while not nearly so confident as her partner’s, seemed almost tranquillizing.
The pair was well-dressed and appeared just as relaxed and comfortable in their situation as they were unharmed and uninjured, though they did look a little misplaced. And for a second, Elisabeth could’ve sworn they looked familiar, like she had seen their faces somewhere before.
“It was just the wife and myself,” the man said. “No one else.”
Elisabeth squinted at the wreckage, spotting a few bags and some luggage she assumed had been removed from the vehicle following the crash. “Is there anything dangerous inside your vehicle we should know about? Any flammable liquids or gases? Or anything that could catch fire or explode?”
The man didn’t hesitate to shake his head. “No, not hardly. I’m confident we’ve removed all the hazardous and unsafe items.” He grinned irreverently, attempting to make light of her question.
Elisabeth didn’t get the joke. “Are either of you hurt or injured in any way?”
“Okay. How are you feeling? Any pain or difficulty breathing?”
The man put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and shrugged. “In light of what happened, I don’t feel half bad,” he said, gesturing to the wreck. “I guess it’s safe to say those guys in that truck over there don’t feel the same.” He paused. “We were lucky.”
Elisabeth glanced at him for a second while trying not to make eye contact. She turned to regard the calming facial features of the much more approachable brunette. “Ma’am? How about you?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” the woman said with a luminous smile. “Twenty or so airbags exploded out at the point of impact. I suppose my husband and I have them to thank for our lack of injuries.”
Elisabeth inched closer to them. “Would you like for us to assess you anyway? A lot of times, injuries, such as those incurred in automobile accidents, don’t manifest until hours or even days after. It’s completely up to you, of course. But if you refuse treatment, I’ll need you to sign a refusal form. It protects us…and well, keeps the lawyers happy.”
The well-developed man shrugged. “Just show us where to sign. No sense in your team wasting time on us. I’m sure in light of recent events, you’ve all had your hands full.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Elisabeth replied with a sigh. “I’ve been at this going on thirty hours now. We were on our way home when we came upon you.” She turned away when one of her fellow EMTs called out to her. “All three DOA? Damn.” A pause. “Neither of my patients are reporting injuries. Brad? You want to relay that in so dispatch can relegate the first responders to code two?”