Eximus

by Marcus Wearmouth

  “Now,” she said, sliding onto his lap. “Take me upstairs.”

  #

  The morning news confirmed the dissolution of The United Nations. Political commentators confirming that the withdrawal of Russia and China left the organization without a mandate. They paralleled the situation to the beginning of the First World War.

  The President’s address followed. Rambling on about executive orders and calling for Americans to be calm. Keep listening to your media devices for latest information. We will lead the world with our resolve. Every American should play their part. We’re all in this together and so on.

  Cate and the boys were desperate to escape the house. Logan too, so they drove to downtown to Armory Square. Parking as close as they could to avoid walking through vandalized and graffiti covered side streets.

  When they arrived, the shopping malls were still closed to general public. Long queues of people snaked along the streets outside.

  Open market stalls sold fresh vegetables, cakes, wooden toys, games and clothes. Cate bought as much food as they could carry. Adam and Gregor bought wooden short swords, hitting each other and bumping into people rushing past them.

  They queued outside the mall with hot chocolate warming their hands. One by one, large black cars began entering the street, sounding their horns and easing forward slowly in order to take their positions. Armed guards formed corridors from shop entrances to the waiting cars.

  Eventually, shop doors opened and a steady stream of men women and children began walking out with arms full of shopping bags.

  “Who are they?” Gregor asked.

  “Not sure, private shoppers. Probably VIPs and politicians,” Cate replied.

  “I want to be one of those when I get older.”

  Logan picked Gregor up and held him in the crook of his arm. “All the world’s problems are because no one wants to be equal.”

  “Isn’t everyone special?” he asked.

  The entrance doors finally opened to the general public. They joined a crowd of desperate shoppers surging forward, defending their positions with elbows and shoulders.

  The boys wanted Powergorg figures as Christmas presents. Logan navigated their way into the toy section. It was like an oasis in the desert. Only two other families were there, searching the stacked shelving. The parents nodded at Logan as he entered.

  The cost of one Powergorg figure was equivalent to a temporary technician at the plant for three hours. Logan bought four, reasoning that money would soon be of no use.

  Back in Lysander with their shopping in the car, they walked to a small park within their gated community. Logan and Cate watched as Adam and Gregor ran around happily, clutching their new toys.

  “Curfew starts soon,” Cate said.

  “Let them run around.”

  They sat in silence, Logan thinking of the mine operation and holding Cate’s cold hand in his.

  “The generator will be installed on Monday.”

  “It’s the right thing to do. I’m behind you one hundred percent. No matter what.”

  “Pack up what you can tonight. I’ll take as much down to the mine as I can tomorrow.”

  “We can pack tonight,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs.

  Adam came running over, his cheeks bright red and smile beaming. Gregor followed raggedly behind, falling at their feet when he arrived.

  “You guys want to bury some boxes?”

  “Sure,” Adam replied.

  As daylight began to fade, Adam and Gregor helped Logan dig a deep hole in their garden. They filled air tight boxes with photos, books and toys, dropping them down without ceremony. Logan watched the boy’s backfill the hole with earth, competing to get the most soil on their spades. They stamped the ground down and marked the spot with a pile of stones. Ruffling their hair, he held them close as they walked back to the house.

  #

  On Sunday morning, Logan loaded his car with suitcases and bags. They packed clothes, shoes, towels, toys, photos, food, toothpaste, soap and blankets. It was a pitiful amount of possessions for such a long trip. But the goods filled every spare bit of space in the car.

  Leaving Cate and the boys at home, he drove to the mine. Music on maximum volume, he sped along the 90, singing at the top of his voice. At the exit for Geneva, his heart pounded with excitement.

  Crossing, a rail track, he broke tree cover and looked left. When he was certain the two towers were gone, he skidded to a halt. Craning for a better view, he jumped from the car and peered over the open ground. The towers and surrounding building had collapsed. Brick, timber and steel covered the ground like a pile of Lego.

  He nodded at the army patrol and drove through without stopping. Sean stood by the entrance, bright red hair standing out against black jacket and trousers. He was talking to a group of men unloading a truck. His arms flapping and wheeling to explain whatever he was saying.

  At the plant Sean was a constant cause of problems. Exceptional at his job, he seemed to view the world as an outsider. A lack of tact or any social etiquette, combined with his loud voice, caused complaints and sometimes even violence. No one would work a shift with him if they could help it.

  “Top o the morning to ya”, Sean shouted.

  Logan slammed his car door and walked towards the entrance. Everyone around the trucks was now staring in his direction. Full of interest at his arrival.

  “Are you Irish this week? Keep your voice down,” Logan said.

  “Ah don’t mind those guys,” he replied. Looking back and shouting, “Get your butts moving.” He grinned at Logan, blue eyes alive with mischief.

  “What happened?” Logan said, looking around at the destruction.

  “They ripped it down on Thursday. Camouflage Caspar said.”

  The entrance to the mine was now a door in rubble. Two trucks were parked in front of the dilapidated building. A group of men ferrying boxes inside. Another group stamped the ground, blew into their hands and chatted.

  “The workshop’s shipshape. We’ve got enough tools and equipment to keep a town running,” Sean said.

  “Did you get the air scrubbers?” Logan asked.

  “Fitted them on Friday night.”

  Sean helped Logan carry his bags from the car into the mine. Before they could descend in the elevator, they waited behind carriage loads of boxes.

  Sean pulled open the lid of the top crate and pulled out a circular tin. “A pie in a can. Would you believe that?”

  “Have you seen Caspar or Rich Sarin this week?” Logan asked, ignoring his fascination with the pie.

  “Caspar’s here most days, I like him. What does he do for a job?”

  “Cyber security why?”

  “He was limping on Monday. Then Wednesday all cut and bruised on his hands. I thought he might be a lumberjack.”

  “I sometimes wonder what goes on in your head,” Logan replied. “A lumberjack?”

  “Knows his stuff. But the man has the weight of the world on his shoulders” he said, rubbing the side of his nose and winking. “You should see the doc’s hospital, state of the art I tell you, state of the art.”

  Logan removed his coat once they reach the mine floor level. The central cavern was lively with activity. People buzzed around great heaps of storage crates and boxes.

  “It’s a lighter shade of dark now,” Sean said, spreading out his arms.

  “What are they bringing down today?”

  “Everything you can think of. They brought down thirty portaloo units yesterday. There’s enough pasta to last till the end of time.”

  Rich edged into view from behind a pile of boxes, writing on a clipboard. He glanced up at them and gave a slight grimace at Sean. “Namaste.”

  “Looks like you’re busy.” Logan said.

  “Have you ever seen a pie in a can?” Sean asked.

  “Never judge a book by its cover,” Rich replied.

  Sean seemed to chew the comment over and began mouthing the words as he turn
ed away.

  “The hospital is almost ready for business. Help me with these boxes.” Rich said.

  They heaped square brown boxes onto a pickup then loaded on Logan’s belongings. Driving to a storage unit marked with a spray painted Red Cross.

  Rich hopped out of the vehicle, grabbed a box and hurried over to the door. He turned to smile at Logan and then pushed open the door with his back.

  The hospital was decked out with a smooth white vinyl cushion floor and steel sheeting. Buffed, swabbed and smelling like root beer.

  “Any idea when you’ll get power to me?” Rich asked, dropping his box on a steel counter.

  “Hoping to install early next week,” Sean said.

  “Some of the pharmaceuticals need refrigeration. I can’t bring them in until we have enough power. If we don’t have any soon then we may be down here without enough antiviral drugs.”

  “I’m all over it doc. You’ll have power don’t worry,” Sean replied.

  They left Rich amongst his boxes, heading to the workshop along a murky tunnel.

  “How far along are you with site prep for the fusion generator?” Logan asked.

  “It’s ready. The direct conversion unit's onsite so we need the generator to start implementation.”

  When talking about electrical installations, Sean was all business. He shoved the workshop door open and made a loud trumpeting noise.

  Inside, it was like a film set. The interior gleamed from shining tools and workstations, benches and machinery. Logan walked through the room, whistling in appreciation. Chainsaws, lifting gear, lathes, hammers, screwdrivers, power tools and a 3D printer.

  “Through here, you’re gonna love this,” Sean said, opening the rear door.

  The empty room had been transformed into accommodation for four people. Two bunk beds lined the rear wall. A kitchenette sat in the left hand corner, opening onto a lounge with sofas.

  “Impressive, you won’t mind if I stay elsewhere though,” Logan winked.

  “You’re a high falutin fella alright. Only the best for you, I’ll show you Chateau Engineer.”

  Sean led the way out of the workshop and along the short walk to their allocated accommodation. Caspar stood outside the entrance talking with two men.

  “You’ve done well,” Logan said, shaking him by the hand.

  “This man is a force of nature,” he said gesturing at Sean. “His team has done great work down here.”

  “We’ll run the conduit from Monday Sir,” Sean said, with a salute. “Though the boys will need to know where you want lines connecting.”

  “And the generator?” Caspar asked, aiming the question at Logan.

  “I sent the order on Friday. It’ll be onsite on Monday,” he replied.

  There was a pregnant pause as Caspar stared at Logan. Sean began whistling in the background. Instead of breaking the tension it brought an almost unbearable pressure.

  “The Air scrubbers are fitted at the incoming elevator shaft, screened with charcoal curtains.” Logan said. “I’ve devised a filtration system to pump air for fifty miles around the mine until it reaches us. Then it will vent out of shaft three.”

  “You think it will filter out radiation?” Caspar asked.

  Logan realized he was holding his breath again and breathed out. “The air will be clean and dry. Not the most sophisticated air conditioning system but I’m confident it’ll work.”

  Caspar nodded and began to walk away but momentarily turned and gripped Logan’s arm. His face inches from Logan’s. “We need the generator.”

  Sean tugged Logan’s other arm into their partitioned accommodation block. Six units furnished with separate sleeping and living areas. Logan and his family were designated the first unit to the left. It was compact and left no room for sentimental items. It would be like living in a Japanese house, with bamboo and paper walls.

  “Are they all like this?” Logan asked.

  “No, the others have golden statues,” Sean replied.

  Logan glared at him.

  “Mostly yes. Caspar’s got a portacabin with an office and bedroom.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m next to you,” he beamed. “Jarod’s the last on the left. Jackson, Rogers and Richards are on the other side.”

  They transferred Logan’s car load into his designated pod. Stacking the bags and boxes around the perimeter walls. Satisfied at their effort, Logan closed and padlocked the door. Cate would move in with the boys from tomorrow.

  “They aren’t luxury but good enough,” Logan said.

  “It’ll be fun. Like a camping trip.”

  “Doesn’t any of this bother you?”

  “Only if there was no music and I’ve plenty of speakers.”

  #

  “I have Detective Sanger for you.”

  “Put him through please,” Logan replied, his palms beginning to sweat.

  “I’m glad you could take the time to speak to me. You must be very busy at the plant?” Sanger said.

  “Monday morning is always busy, but today, you wouldn’t believe it. It’s like a ghost town,” Logan said, immediately regretting the reference to Ghosts.

  “I won’t keep you long. I’m investigating the disappearance of Doctor Sarin and a large quantity of pharmaceuticals. I believe you know him socially?”

  “I do but haven’t seen him for weeks.”

  “It seems we stopped him from taking everything in the drugstore. But the amount he has taken suggests either he’s been planning this for weeks, or he had help.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Doctor Sarin always seemed a good man.”

  “If you hear of anything, please contact me or leave a message at Syracuse PD.”

  “Of course, anything I can do to help,” he replied.

  “It’s a shame there aren’t more like you. Still working and keeping going. People, food and equipment are disappearing everywhere.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Feels like we’re rearranging the deck chairs on the titanic.”

  “Any news on the Eastern Alliance stand off?”

  “We’re at DEFCON 2. The whole country’s falling apart. We need a Kennedy moment.”

  There was weariness in the man’s voice. For a brief moment, Logan considered telling him about the salt mine. Instead he told him not to give up, face flushing red as he disconnected.

  Chapter 9

  At zero eight hundred Avery walked to the Command Centre for a strategic command team meeting. Ringo accompanied her on the short route, he was his usual quiet and organized self. His boots shone, his uniform was pressed and his fingers were clean.

  Avery asked him about previous postings as they walked but received only vague replies. He seemed either embarrassed or uninterested about what he did before the bunker.

  Kaya and Major Daniels were already seated when she entered. Kaya sat at the other end of the table, Daniels to his right.

  Cain pushed passed her and took a seat next to Daniels. Sitting down with an exaggerated grunt then banging her hand on the table. “Are we waiting for Pritchard?”

  “Doctor Cain, I was unaware you were in the Command Team,” Avery said.

  “I have taken the role of Head of Engineering. Unfortunately Dr Malli has been seconded. I have drafted another Nuclear Engineer.”

  “I was unaware of this.”

  Cain shrugged and indicated towards the large screen as if it would provide an answer. Avery looked at the blank blue screen, considering a call to Captain Rodeen. She ground her teeth and forced a smile. Cain sat unconcerned and fiddling with her white shirt cuff.

  “Sorry I’m late, caught up in the stores,” Pritchard said. He dropped a bag and an apple rolled out, causing an intake of breath from Cain.

  “Next time I want you here fifteen minutes early,” Avery said, to the nodding man.

  “For the sake of formality in light of Doctor Cain’s elevation to the command team,” Avery said looking towards Kaya, sea
ted opposite. “We’ll start with introductions. I’m Colonel Avery, commander of this facility.”

  “Major Kaya, Executive Officer. I’ve spent twenty five years in operational roles and administration roles.”

  Kaya nodded towards Daniels.

  He was blonde haired with the face of a boxer and ice blue eyes. “Major Daniels, head of military. Prior to this posting I was second in command of our Chinese Embassy detachment. Damn glad to be here though.”

  ”Doctor Aslam, head of medicine.”

  Aslam was thick set, black messy hair and an easy smile that made him appear childish. He offered no further information, his hands open in front of him.

  “Major Pritchard, head of logistics.

  Pritchard was small and plump. Short brown hair and a greasy face. His uniform shirt bulged across his stomach. He seemed pregnant.

  Avery’s gaze roamed towards Cain, their eyes locking across the table. “Doctor Cain, head of Engineering.”

  “Okay, then let’s get started,” Avery said.

  The group had settled into a dynamic at previous meetings. Avery appreciated Mali’s sense of humor, Kaya’s laconic personality and Daniels’s boyish charm. They were engaging and knowledgeable. Now it was as if they were starting again. Daniels, Aslam and Pritchard seemed cowed by Cain’s presence. Glancing towards her before and after they spoke, looking for approval.

  As a result, Avery directed the meeting with questions rather than discussion. She made notes on her screen, and pretended not to notice when Cain appeared to be doing the same.

  They ate an early lunch in a partitioned section of the canteen, designated for the command team. Avery perused a menu of shrimp salad, calamari, burger, steak, mac and cheese and roast chicken. There was no hint from the menu this was an underground bunker.

  She ordered salad with dressing on the side and sparkling water.

  “What have you got on this afternoon?” she asked Daniels.

  “Drills drills and more drills. Our soldiers will be in peak condition after I’ve finished with them.”

  “They seem to be a quiet bunch,” she said, wincing at a pain in her temple.

  “Quietly efficient. Not sure where half of them have come from, but based on their skills, my guess is they are all elite troops from different units.”