Quantum Storms - Aaron Seven

by Dennis Chamberland

  It was no secret that their topside shielding was inadequate, and also rendered the vessels exceptionally vulnerable to even moderate seas. It was widely assumed that most of the crew would be sick and out of commission by the sixth day of the onset of the quantum storms. But it was the standing order from Central Command that the crew should actually adjust and even recover from a chronic dose of radiation. Both ludicrous gambles utterly failed with the loss of all hands.

  Captain Xiao Luan was fully aware of the worldwide nuclear exchange. And now his repeated failure to rouse any command structure anywhere left him with but a single conclusion: that he alone was the sole fully operational survivor of the Chinese Military. But Captain Luan was physically and emotionally drained. He had slept little in a week. This tragically left him particularly vulnerable to his greatest character defect: his ego.

  As Captain Luan considered his position and the power of his boat, he concluded that not only was he the sole surviving commander, but as such, he was also the sole surviving supreme representative of the Chinese Ethos, since all other agents had surely been obliterated by a combination of the quantum storms and nuclear exchange. Therefore, he reasoned, he, by default, held the authority of Prime Minister and even Chinese Emperor, if he deemed it to be so. There was simply no one else to oppose him.

  And so it was that Captain Luan began to plot his next moves in securing the total domination of the Pacific Ocean and all that it contained. First he would begin with the destruction of any surviving enemy submarines, then on to whatever else the ocean held. Just the day before, he had successfully and effortlessly destroyed a Russian submarine identified as the SSGN Belgorodo. The act of sinking another sub skippered by such an excellent submariner as Konstantin Shedrin emboldened Luan.

  “Captain, I have a sonar contact,” said a deck officer in a crisp voice. “Zero five zero, true.”

  “Analysis,” Luan barked.

  “It’s code, sir. It has the signature of a communications device and appears to be emanating from the surface. It could even be a homing beacon, but it is too far away to interpret with any accuracy, sir. I can easily home in on its location.”

  “Associated screw noise?”

  “Negative, sir.”

  “Distance to target?”

  “200 kilometers, sir.”

  “Let’s go investigate,” Luan responded. “Officer of the Deck, make it so.”

  40

  Ohmagawd… ohmagawd… I can’t take this stinking heat much longer,” Charles complained bitterly. “And I can’t stand this stench,” he said, wrapping his face in a wound up t-shirt across his mouth and nose. As he did so, he dropped to the sand on his knees beside Wattenbarger.

  “That’s good,” Wattenbarger responded neutrally, leaning back against the hard wall of Miller’s cave, rhythmically tossing pebbles against the upper curvature of the wall and catching them in his opposite hand.

  “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean, ‘that’s good’?” Charles spat testily.

  “It’s good, just what I said: it’s good…”

  “What? That we’re about to die of heat stroke in here or that we’re being gassed and baked at the same time?”

  “The good part, as I shared with you earlier, is that as long as we can actually smell the gas, it’s probably below the levels that can hurt us,” Wattenbarger explained, the stress and tension clearly leaking through his voice.

  “Well I don’t know how you can sit there and lecture me and just act like it don’t bother you when I know this would totally gross out a septic tank man. Everything in here smells like crap – my clothes, my hair, my sleeping bag, even my food smells like camel crap.”

  “Two questions,” Wattenbarger asked instantly and very dryly, his hands still systematically smacking pebble after pebble against the wall, never missing a cycle.

  Charles just stared back at him, apparently realizing the quiz was coming whether he wanted it or not.

  “Number one: how can you smell your hair when it’s less than a quarter inch long and on top of your head? And, number two: how can you possibly know what camel crap smells like when you’ve never been further away from Wagoner County than the Tulsa Zoo, and their last camel died two decades ago?

  “Knowing that your answer is probably not forthcoming at all,” Wattenbarger continued relentlessly without pause, “or knowing whatever reply you would attempt to assemble is either totally insufficient or completely off the mark, I’ll respond to the questions on your behalf.

  “The answers are combined, actually. You know that your hair smalls like detritus and that your food tastes like defecation for a very simple reason. You never wash your hands, either between bodily functions or for any other reason, so that wherever they pass – hair, skin, clothing, bedding, dinner or whatever - it all smells like Lance Charles, because you, my friend, are full of crap, have always been, and will always be. Very simple.”

  The heat and intolerable smell in Miller’s Cave had driven them to this position. Their patience had broken down to the point that they were turning on one another. It was mid-afternoon in the cave, the relentless sun was still high and the hour of greatest heating was just beginning. Rest was becoming more and more difficult to find and was nearly impossible during the daylight hours. Added to the more-than-oppressive heat loading inside the cave was the increasing level of hydrogen sulfide gas bubbling out of the ever-rushing subterranean stream. The gas also caused the heretofore sweet mountain stream to foul, so that its disgusting odor invaded the water they drank and food they ate.

  The only relief they had was at sunset when they were able to go outside of their cave and enjoy an occasional light breeze and comparatively cooler air. Outside of the entranceway, they assembled a secure, somewhat hidden, rock shield and took turns sleeping there while one always remained awake and on watch.

  But now, relief from the heated cavern was at least four hours away and Charles’ tolerance had broken completely down. He picked up a handful of dusty sand and threw it in Wattenbarger’s face just as Warren emerged from his tent.

  “Knock it off, right now!” Warren bellowed at Charles as Wattenbarger spat sand and blinked through squinted eyes. “That’s just about enough of that crap!” he shouted, pointing his finger at the retreating Charles.

  “Oh yeah?” Charles responded as he walked away. “Why don’t you just ask Dale about crap? He seems to be our resident expert on it!”

  “Leave him alone, I deserved it,” Wattenbarger said with a wicked smile, tears streaming down his muddy cheeks.

  “Are we observing the many and varied reasons for your remarkable lack of luck with women?” Warren quipped.

  “Excuse me, but Lance hardly qualifies as a woman! And I will strongly protest the insinuation or any linking of my attitude in this cave on this day with…”

  “You guys have got to stop picking fights with one another,” Warren continued. “I realize it’s hot and the air is foul, but you…”

  “Any luck with reaching the shelters?” Wattenbarger asked, short-circuiting him.

  Warren looked supremely stressed. “No. No, I’ve tried every frequency and every trick in the book. Nothing at all. I guess the bombs knocked everything out.”

  “How about the shortwave operators? If it hadn’t been for them we never would’ve found out about the nukes in the first place.”

  “That’s the mystery, Dale. They’re all off line now. It’s just static and more static. It’s like the ionosphere isn’t passing the frequencies anymore. It just can’t be right that they’re all dead – not all of them! But I do know that if we don’t reach the shelters, then everybody’s dead sooner or later, everybody – us and them!” Warren sighed and looked around. “Lance? Where’d Lance wander off to?” he asked, his eyes nervously darting about the cave.

  “Well,” Wattenbarger responded, looking about the cave, “it’s not like he has anywhere to go. He probably retreated to his tent.”

  “H
is tent’s behind me, I would’ve seen him,” Warren responded rigidly as he and Wattenbarger both looked toward the opening to the outer vestibule of the cave. “Oh, dear mother of …” Warren said as he began to sprint the 15 feet to the opening flowed closely by Wattenbarger. “If he goes out there, he’s gonna get sick for sure.”

  The outer vestibule opened into a rather large chamber whose gap to the outside had been closed by rocks and branches so that it was invisible from Concharty Mountain ’s exposed flank. But the incidence of solar radiation directly from the thin walls above the vestibule, and indirectly from the opening of the cavern, was enough to fill the outer vestibule with a dangerous level of exposure to the quantum storms. While it would not have been lethal except near the door, it was enough to cause a serious dose of radiation sickness within what they estimated was a few hours. They had agreed together that any exposure to unnecessary radiation during the day was to be avoided at all costs. None of them had ever visited the outer vestibule during the day before now.

  The chamber was completely dark except for a few bright shafts of sunlight entering through the makeshift, camouflaged doorway. As Warren and Wattenbarger entered, they could not see anything except the brilliant beams of sunlight piercing the darkness.

  “Lance! Lance!” Warren shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. “You’ve got to get out of here! Get back inside! We’ll all get sick out here!”

  “Wait, I’ve got my penlight,” Wattenbarger said just as a tiny shaft of LED light cut through the darkness and illuminated Warren ’s face.

  He squinted and pointed at the walls. “Find him quickly! I know he’s not dumb enough to slip outside…”

  “Go screw yourselves – both of you,” came Charles’ voice from a far corner of the cave. “I’m sick and tired of you guys runnin’ me down all the time, callin’ me stupid, and all your jokes at my expense. You guys have more respect for Marbles than me, and I’m a human being. Screw you.”

  Wattenbarger’s beam sliced through the darkness and came to rest on Charles, sitting in a crouched position against the interior wall of the cave.

  “Well, at least you picked the safe wall,” Warren said with a deep sigh. “Now, why don’t we talk this over inside where at least we won’t get sick.”

  “I’m not sure I care anymore,” Charles responded weakly.

  Wattenbarger moved his light to Warren ’s face. Warren ’s eyes reflected deep concern and a mounting frustration. He just shrugged uncertainly.

  “What was that?” Charles abruptly asked in a startled voice that made the hair stand up on Warren ’s neck.

  “What…?” Warren whispered sharply.

  “Shhhh…” Charles responded as the penlight’s bean moved back toward him. Warren could see that Charles was now crouching on all fours, his face cocked to one side.

  “Hear that?” he whispered.

  Warren shook his head as Wattenbarger’s beam slowly scanned the walls of the cavern. Then there was a sound they all heard, a clear whimpering.

  “Over there,” Charles said, although Wattenbarger’s hand was already scanning near the source of the sound.

  In the beam of the tiny light in an opposite ledge of the vestibule, they could make out the form of an individual attempting to hide beneath a large rock outcropping. The sight of another human in their cave made Warren gasp with involuntary fear and astonishment.

  “My God, it can’t be!” Wattenbarger whispered hoarsely.

  Charles immediately stood and paced directly over to the ledge. “Shine the light… shine the light!” he said as he walked.

  “Lance, stay away! Stay away, he may be armed…” Warren warned.

  “He’s not a he,” Charles responded, standing a few feet away from the ledge.

  Wattenbarger and Warren paced quickly to his side.

  There before them they could see the form of a woman lying on her stomach and the unmistakable sight of a child’s arm protruding from beneath her. Her face was filthy and her clothing torn and mostly missing. They could see her exposed skin was damp with sweat and marked with scratches and bruises. Her eyes were filled with abject terror and even a hint of rage.

  “Stay away from us, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you where you stand,” she seethed back at them.

  Warren cocked his head at her, back and forth several times, clearly examining her, her position and her state of affairs. “I’m sorry, but you don’t appear to be in any position to kill anyone,” he responded. “Now, kindly remove yourself from that ledge; let us help you and your child and then, at sunset, you can be on your way.”

  Everyone stayed where they were and just stared back at one another in unconcealed shock.

  Finally Warren spoke again. “Lady, we’re all gettin’ more sick by the minute, except perhaps for you. In your position, you’re fairly well shielded, but as for us, we need to return back to the confines of our cave. So please remove yourself so we can all return to safety.”

  No one moved. Finally, Wattenbarger broke the silence with a tender smile and gentle words. “Come on, it’s ok. We won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  The woman stared back, unmoving.

  “What’s your name?” Wattenbarger asked, kneeling before her.

  “Mel,” she said, her eyes still untrusting.

  “I’m Dale. Nice to meet you,” he said with a sincere smile. “If you allow us, we can help you and your child,” Wattenbarger said, looking at the tiny arm projecting from beneath her form. His eyes rose to meet hers. “Come on, it’s okay.”

  Mel’s face melted into a mask of pain and fear as the tears began to flow. “Please don’t hurt us…” she cried.

  “Come on, it really is okay,” Wattenbarger responded soothingly, as he reached out and gently helped unwind the woman from her child and the rocky ledge while she stood up before them. As she positioned herself upright, they could see that her child was a young boy, no more than five years old, dressed only in dirty cotton underpants. He lay unconscious in her arms, but he was breathing.

  She was dressed in a pair of torn off Levi jeans and a formerly-white bra. Her skin was abraded everywhere and she sported many bruises, but it was difficult to tell since both mother and child were filthy and covered with dirt and mud. Mel’s lower lip trembled slightly as the tears washed channels down her dirty cheeks. She was an attractive woman of small stature and a petite frame with jet back hair that fell in a tangled mess across her bare shoulders. Mother and child did not appear emaciated but they were both very thin.

  “Come on, it’s okay. We won’t hurt you,” Wattenbarger said as he gently escorted them toward the opening to their inner cave.

  As they entered the relative brightness and security of the inner cave, Warren exploded. He grabbed Charles by his shoulders and shoved him up against the cavern’s rough wall. “Don’t you ever, ever, do that again, you stupid…” he seethed, eye to eye with Charles.

  “Back off!” Wattenbarger responded instantly, interposing a rigid wrist and hand between their faces.

  Warren released Charles, his face red with rage. “You could’ve killed us all,” he responded.

  “Bullcrap! That woman’s been out there for who knows how long and she ain’t dead yet!” Charles replied, his face hard with rage.

  “There are about seven billion stupid corpses out there and every one of them had the same lame excuse,” Warren shouted back. “They all felt just fine until they started puking up blood.”

  Charles lunged at Warren with a determined force. “Don’t you ever, ever, call me stupid again, you sonofabitch or I’ll kill you right here and right…!”

  Wattenbarger intercepted Charles from behind and wrestled him to the ground just before he would have reached Warren . “Stop it! Stop it both of you!” he screamed, his voice echoing off the cavern walls.

  “What’s that horrible smell?” Mel asked weakly, wrinkling her nose.

  “I want this woman out of here at nautical twilight tonight,” Warren ra
ged, pointing his finger at Mel still clutching her unconscious child. “Feed her, bathe her, clothe her, sleep with her, hell, I don’t care what you do with her. But I want her out of here tonight!”

  If Wattenbarger had been the only voice of reason among them, then all hope for peace had just abruptly ended.

  “Now wait just a minute! Who the hell died and left you in charge?” he responded, leaping to his feet and standing toe to toe with Warren . “This woman stays until the community says different. Last time I checked, the vote is two to one, right Charles?”

  “Right! Damn right!” Charles echoed, relishing the opportunity to land a decisive blow on Warren .

  “And just who the hell said this was a democracy?” Warren bellowed, looking with rage between them.

  “And just who said it wasn’t? I’m getting sick and tired of you bossing us around all the time,” Charles responded, still filled with resentment.

  “I brought both of you here. I brought along all the food and power and all the equipment that keeps us alive. So, then by definition, yes, I am, as a matter of fact, in charge!” Warren responded, pointing his fingers around the well equipped cavern.

  “It was Dale who found the cave,” Charles retorted instantly. “And it was Dale who figured your little project out and made it work. Without his brains, you would’ve screwed it up just like you…”

  Warren lunged at Charles again, his face contorted with hate. “You ungrateful, pathetic little…” he spat as his fingers reached for Charles’ neck.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Wattenbarger cried as he leapt on Warren ’s back and pulled him away from Charles. “You idiots! Both of you are stupid! Both of you!” he screamed at them through clenched teeth.