Intentional Darkness: Alexandreia Bennett: An EMP Story

by RH Fox

  Dreia studied herself in the mirror over the sink. Her entire right temple was one big purple mark, radiating out from the bandage over the gash. Her left cheek was lightly bruised as well, and her lip was still a bit swollen. But none of that compared to the marks on her neck. It was obvious someone had tried to strangle her. She lifted her hand to touch them, wondering how long they’d take to fade away. Raising her arm pulled at her side and she stripped off her t-shirt to see what her ribs looked like. The small amount of bruising surprised her, considering how much they hurt. She grimaced as she probed the area.

  After her self-exam, she stripped her clothes off and wiped down with the gloriously refreshing warm water. Giving herself a few minutes to air dry before donning the clean clothes, she considered whether she really wanted to put her dirty underwear back on. Dreia couldn’t bring herself to do it and redressed, true commando style. Imagining Matt’s approval if he were there elicited a soft chuckle. The t-shirt fit well, but the pants were baggy. Corporal Hall had thoughtfully considered that possibility, and a belt dropped to the floor when she’d unrolled them. Cinching it tight, she was satisfied they weren’t going to slide off and reveal her newly bare derriere.

  She gathered up her filthy clothing, splattered with both her and Wayne’s blood, and debated whether to take them. Ultimately, she pushed the bundle into the trash receptacle, only keeping her coat and small holster. She no longer had a bag to put them in anyway.

  Unlocking the door, Dreia went back to the conference room. Since they had several minutes before they needed to leave, she took a seat at the table with the Marine.

  “I feel so much better. Thank you again!”

  “You’re welcome. Remember, I have two sisters. I know how picky you women can be about cleanliness,” he teased with a smile.

  Dreia smacked him on the arm, but decided to give him a pass for the lack of clean underwear in his offering.

  “Where is your family? You said you’re stationed down at Cherry Point, but where’s home?”

  “A little town named Hobson, outside Knoxville, Tennessee. Lived there my whole life up until I joined the Marine Corps after high school. Isn’t if funny how life works. I couldn’t wait to escape small town living then, and now I just want to go home.”

  “You know you boys are fighting a losing battle, right?” Dreia asked seriously.

  “I reckon so. It’s getting crazy out there.”

  “How long do you think everyone’s going to feel obligated to stick around and follow orders?”

  “I’m not sure. A few have already gone AWOL. No one’s even going after them.”

  “There’s no point, and the officers in charge know it if they’re being honest. Do you want a little friendly advice from your aunt?” She winked at him. “I’d head home sooner rather than later. Don’t even try to go back to Cherry Point, it’s completely out of your way and would be a waste of time and effort.”

  “I know. I already talked that over with my buddies. We’re all in agreement that we’re going to strike out for our own homes when we feel like there’s nothing else we can do here.”

  “I want to emphasize the sooner rather than later part. If possible, gather some supplies before you head out, too. No telling what you’ll be able to find along the way. Are your buddies headed in the same direction?”

  “One is, he’s from San Francisco. We figured we’d stick together as far as my parents’ place. They have a decent sized ranch, and then I know my mom’ll load him down with enough food to last a good long while.”

  “That’s an ambitious trip.” Dreia straightened in her chair, “Oh my gosh! I never asked if you had any more information about other parts of the country. Last time we talked you were only sure that the East coast and Midwest were affected.”

  “It was confirmed yesterday that there was a detonation over Vegas, too. There’s been optimism that Alaska and Hawaii weren’t hit, but no one’s a hundred percent sure.”

  “Even if they do have power, I honestly doubt they’d risk sending help yet. I mean, how much could they really contribute, and at what point do they have to consider that they’re basically on their own now? They won’t be getting shipments from the mainland for a good long while. If the people in charge are smart, they’ll save their own resources for their needs.”

  “That’s pretty cynical.”

  “Not cynical, pragmatic. Their own survival depends on it.”

  “I guess . . .”

  “What about our allies? Has there been any communication with anyone?”

  “Not that I’ve heard of. And a lot of the guys are wondering why, too. Other countries must know something’s happened. Surely a whole nation can’t go silent without someone trying to figure out why. Especially the United States.”

  “There has to be a reason humanitarian aid hasn’t been sent. Though, I’ve often wondered how many true allies we’d have if our wallet was empty,” Dreia added. A shiver of unease crawled down her spine at the possibility the rest of the world had abandoned the U.S. to its fate.

  “Now, there’s a bleak outlook. Come on, we need to head over to see the captain.”

  “Okay. Hey, I should probably know your first name, since I’m your aunt and all.”

  “About that,” the corporal hesitated, “I came clean with the captain, but he’s a good guy. He’s still sending the convoy and letting you ride along, in exchange for any information you have on the group.”

  Dreia couldn’t be mad at him after all he’d done. “Alright, as long as I’m not stuck here, I can accept that. Still, I should know your name.”

  The young man held out his hand. “I’m Craig.”

  18

  Dreia wasn’t really sure what she’d expected to see on a military base in the midst of the United states crumbling, but it was somehow less chaotic than she’d pictured. Maybe it was simply the lack of mechanical noise and vehicle movement that gave the illusion of slowing things down, despite the people moving faster than usual. None of them looked twice at her as she followed Craig to the administration building two blocks away. Craig’s presence and the new clothes definitely helped her blend in. She figured if the current plan fell through, she’d still have a chance at getting off the base, so she paid attention to everything they passed.

  When they reached their destination, Craig led her straight to the captain’s office on the first floor. Dreia stood in front of a man about Matt’s age, wearing a uniform that was noticeably more crumpled than ever would’ve been tolerated under normal circumstances. She could tell he was exhausted. Despite that, he exuded absolute authority and didn’t waste time on small talk, including an introduction.

  “Corporal Hall told me you ran into some trouble down at the old canal bridge. Can you tell me anything about the men holding it? We’re getting reports of problems with several bridges in the area.”

  “It’s a motorcycle gang, but I didn’t recognize the name on their vests. Iron Outlaws.”

  “I figured it was something like that. They’re a local gang of one percenters trying to work their way up the criminal food chain. How many men did they have?”

  “I thought there were nine, but that was partially based on what a teenager who was there before me said. Turns out she was cooperating with their group, so there’s really no telling. There can’t be that many, though. They have a small camp next to a strip mall on the east side of the canal. From what I could tell they’re emptying the market and transporting supplies and women to another location.”

  “Any idea where?”

  “None at all. Their leader, Jimmy, wasn’t at the bridge, and he’s selling women to someone named Santos.”

  “Antonio Santos?”

  “I don’t know, they never used a first name. Who’s he?”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him. He’s a wealthy businessman whose name's in the local news often. The guy’s as crooked as they come, but no one can get charges to stick because he has a lot of
powerful people in his pocket. The military got roped into his web last year when some sailors were caught bringing drugs into the area from Belize. It was a ballsy thing to do on a Navy vessel. They claimed to have no idea who orchestrated it and the trail stopped at their commanding officer, who conveniently turned up dead the day after they were busted. Turns out he had ties to Santos. So, I expect he’s the one they’re talking about.”

  “Sounds exactly like the kind of guy who’d figure out how to profit from a national crisis. Maybe you’ll get information from the bridge to lead you to him.”

  “If only it were that easy. I’m not sure we have the resources to start chasing people on the most wanted list when the city’s burning down around us,” Captain Burke sighed, “but, we’ll start with the bridge and see what happens. Corporal, the convoy should be about ready to pull out. Take Ms.. . .?”

  “Bennett. Dreia Bennett.”

  “Take Ms. Bennett and tell Sergeant Evans to report to me as soon as you get back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Craig saluted the captain and started to lead Dreia out of the office, but she turned back abruptly.

  “Oh, wait! They also mentioned something about a Council and trying to gain favor with it soon. The way they referred to it struck me as a group you might want on your radar.”

  “Never heard of it, but like I said, anything involving Santos is bad news. I’ll pass that on. Good luck, Ms. Bennett. I hope you make it home to your family.”

  “Thanks, Captain.”

  Dreia and Craig exited the bustling building and Craig steered her to the right. “The convoy will be over by the south gate, about three blocks away. We’ll have to hoof it, because they’re using all the working vehicles for trips out.”

  “I expected as much. Any idea how many the military might have?”

  “Not as many as you’d think. From what I’ve seen and heard over the last few days, they’re trying to condense everything down to as few bases as possible. The National Guardsmen I worked with Friday only had the trucks you saw. I’ve seen about ten hummers and a pair of seven tons here so far.”

  “Do you know where they came from or why they still work?”

  “A soldier I ate with this morning said they brought them out of a reinforced storage facility.”

  “I guess by ‘reinforced’ he means EMP protected?”

  “It would appear so. Regular enlistees like myself weren’t privy to stuff like that. I have no idea what the brass calling the shots might really have up their sleeve.”

  They rounded the corner and found several soldiers gathered around a group of three heavily armed hummers.

  “Here we go,” Craig said. “I need to relay the captain’s orders to Sergeant Evans. We’ll be in the last hummer if you want to head on over.”

  Dreia let out a sigh of relief that Evans wasn’t the grouchy man who forced her to come to the base in the first place. However, she grudgingly admitted she probably owed the grizzled old sergeant some gratitude, since she now found herself with an armed escort back to the bridge. She walked over to the last hummer, recognizing Craig’s pissed off passenger from Friday standing next to it.

  “Hi, I’m Dreia. We kind of met Friday.”

  “Yeah. I remember. I was ready to beat Hall’s ass for stopping to talk to you. He’s lucky things are going to shit and the code of conduct may as well be out the window.”

  “Lucky things are going to shit?” Dreia raised her eyebrows, reminded vividly of Marlene’s attitude.

  The Marine knew when he’d gone too far, though, and had the good sense to be embarrassed at his flippancy.

  “Sorry, ma’am. You’re absolutely right, no one’s lucky right now. Everything’s out of kilter, and I’m used to just running my mouth with the guys. I’m Sergeant Dean Holtzer, but please call me Dean.” He held his hand out and Dreia shook it firmly.

  “I understand, Dean. I was a military wife for fourteen years and have been around my fair share of boys who forgot who they were talking to. Craig said you’re all up here from Cherry Point. Is your family there?”

  Dean’s finger bore the mark of a recently absent wedding ring, with the skin several shades lighter and a slight indention where the muscles had conformed to something that was now missing.

  “Not anymore.” A painful shadow passed over his face before he continued, “My wife and I separated a few months ago. She took the kids and moved back to our hometown.”

  “I’m sorry, Dean. How many kids do you have and where’s home?”

  “Two boys. Aiden’s five and Percy’s three. My wife,” he noticeably stumbled over the word, “and I are from Georgia. They’re living with her parents near Savannah right now, until she figures out what she wants.”

  “I can imagine how much you miss them. Craig also said you all agreed to head for home once you felt your usefulness here had expired. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, do it sooner rather than later.”

  Dean looked uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, “Ma’am, I . . .”

  Dreia held her hand up. “You don’t have to worry about me thinking less of you, Sergeant. I’m trying to make it home to my own family, and I want that for everyone else, too. I’m sure your wife’s hoping you’ll show up, no matter how you two left things. Your family will need you now more than ever. So, all I’m saying is recognize when this is a lost cause and go take care of your own.”

  It was obvious Dean felt uneasy discussing something that went against everything he’d respected since the day he joined up, but he nodded hesitantly. Dreia changed the subject.

  “I’m super appreciative of you boys taking me along today.”

  “Craig told me what’s happening at the bridge. I’m glad we’re going to put a stop to it. Men like that deserve what we’re about to rain down on their asses.”

  “Oorah!” Craig added, overhearing the last part as he drew near.

  “Is Evans ready to roll?” Dean asked.

  “He said to load up, but knows we’re waiting on Gimpy.”

  “Gimpy?” Dreia asked.

  “Our gunner, Corporal Todd Gimpleson. Poor guy got stuck with the nickname in boot camp,” Craig explained. “He’s the one from San Francisco.”

  “Gotcha. Weren’t there four of you in the hummer on Friday.”

  “Blake’s not going on this one. He came down with a stomach virus yesterday and got stuck in sick call. They’re quarantining people at the first sign of anything that could be remotely contagious,” Dean answered. “No one’s taking any chance of an outbreak on top of everything else.”

  They all climbed into the hummer to wait on the missing Marine. Like before, Craig was driving and Dean took the passenger seat. Dreia chose the spot behind Dean and pulled the heavy door shut as their missing gunner jogged up and climbed in the other side. He did a double take when he caught sight of her bruised face but didn't mention it.

  “Hello, ma’am. I’m Corporal Gimpleson, but just call me Gimpy. Everyone else does,” he said good naturedly. His easy smile and laidback posture reminded her immediately of California. She could vividly picture him on a San Francisco beach with a surfboard and shaggy head of hair, instead of the regulation high and tight he now sported.

  “Alexandreia,” she replied, “but just call me Dreia. Everyone else does.”

  Gimpy and Dreia grinned at each other as the hummer started up and headed toward the security gate. Once they exited the base and entered the highway, the path had already been cleared and they picked up speed. Dreia leaned toward Gimpy and raised her voice to be heard over the hum of tires on concrete.

  “Didn’t you guys have helmets with mics on Friday?”

  “They belonged to the guardsmen we were with. When we moved over to JRTF, we had to leave them behind. We didn’t bring that kind of gear with us from Cherry Point, not that it would’ve worked if we had. The Army scrounged up a few working sets, but they aren’t about to share them with a bunch of jarheads
. I think they’re just sore the ladies have always liked us better,” he winked at her.

  Dreia couldn’t help but laugh at the typical Marine Corps arrogance; another thing she remembered well from Matt’s active duty days. She couldn’t very well argue the legitimacy of his point, though, having gladly landed a jarhead herself.

  She turned to watch the city race by outside the window. It looked like the smoke hanging over downtown was getting thicker. Once the skyscrapers were out of sight and they transitioned into the suburbs, the plumes became more sporadic. The trees and concrete sound barriers hid whatever was happening off the highway for most of the trip. However, at one point they passed a large shopping district and Dreia could see people swarming around the buildings. She hoped Karen took her advice and found a way to stock up on food and water before the stores were overrun.

  The small convoy eventually came to the same exit Dreia had taken two days prior. She didn’t know what the soldiers and Marines had planned, but she felt her anticipation rise. Today would have a different ending. Soon she’d be on her way home again. Once they left the highway, the convoy’s speed decreased dramatically as they were forced to zigzag around abandoned vehicles.

  Vandals looting whatever they could find at the businesses along the first few miles scattered like roaches at the sight of the military hummers. When they realized the soldiers weren’t stopping to dispense justice, many resumed what they were doing. Some even got ballsy enough to flip the bird and shout obscenities. Before long, they were passing the utility box that Dreia had initialed for Matt. When they reached the point where trees completely took over the landscape, the three hummers pulled over to finalize their plan.

  Thankfully, Evans seemed to be an astute leader and ordered three men to walk ahead and scout out the most current situation before they proceeded. This raised noisy objections from some of the more gung-ho soldiers, who were sure their heavily armed hummers had the advantage. Their sergeant shut them down with a hard look and everyone settled in to wait. Dreia wandered back to the last vehicle with the Marines.