by John O'Brien
Their mission of projecting American power worldwide had changed drastically and suddenly to one of survival—not only for the remaining U.S. forces, but for humanity itself. He imagines that it’s like having a super tornado approach from behind, unseen and unheard, then finding that you’re the only one left standing with destruction all around and everything flattened.
Of course, that would only apply if the tornado remained on the fringes, waiting to sweep back through, he thinks, knowing that the danger is still out there and they’ve only begun their long journey for survival.
Admiral Gettins rounds a corner. Two armed Marine guards stationed in front of the double doors come to attention. With a hundred different things occupying his mind, he absentmindedly gives them a nod. One reaches for the door and opens it. Gettins steps through the portal and into a large briefing room. An explosion of noise fills the room as it’s called to attention.
“Be seated,” the admiral states, continuing his stroll through the middle of the seats toward the briefing podium.
Coming to a stop at the front of the room, Gettins stares at the annotated map with his back to the rest of the room. Previously, when staring at a map of the world, he thought it seemed an awfully small place, crammed with a hundred different enemies. Technology made the world smaller, allowing humankind to fly, sail, or drive to any location in a matter of hours or days as opposed to the weeks or months it took not that long ago…if at all. As his eyes survey the map, the current situation and all they must do to survive makes it seem like a world that has suddenly expanded.
The noise within the room calms as people settle back into their seats. Feeling every eye in the room drill into his back with worried anticipation, he turns from the map. The gathered commanders facing him also wonder what the next few moments will bring. He understands that each of them worries about loved ones, or are saddened knowing that they are lost. He shares those emotions, realizing with near certainty that he will never again see his wife, son, daughter, and two grandchildren. But, each of them is bound to their duty and acknowledges that they need to stick together if they’re to have any hope of a future. If they were to disperse their meager resources in order to search for each and every family member, they would slowly disappear, one small clump of humanity after another. The present time is for the living, the time to mourn the dead and infected will come later. In their worry and sadness, they understand this above all else. In their private moments, they continue to grieve, just as he does.
“Ladies…gentlemen. I’m not going to stand up here and discuss what happened…or how. We all know what occurred, but it’s not currently our job to figure out the how. It happened and that’s that...this is the situation we have and that’s what we’re going to concentrate on going forward. I want to make it clear from the outset that we are not going on a thousand different rescue missions for families. Everyone under your commands must understand this. The virus is still very active in areas populated by any of those infected. We will be avoiding these areas to the greatest extent possible, yet will still carry on with our objectives. From this point on, it must be clear that we stay and work together if we are to have any chance of seeing the light at the end of this tunnel. Is that clear?” Gettins states.
Every head in the room nods in understanding.
“Very well. We are treating this as day one in this new situation. What happened in the past is exactly that: past. I’m going to cover our current state of affairs to ensure that we’re all on the same page.
“Two hours ago, we lost contact with the presidential bunker. That was our last land-based command structure. Until we hear otherwise, we are the command structure and will operate accordingly. The last briefings indicated that approximately ninety-eight percent of the world’s population is either dead or infected. Our naval forces worldwide have been severely depleted due to the virus, which infected many of our active fleet vessels. Because of the contagious nature of the viral agent, and the fact that it is airborne, I have issued an order that every man and woman among our surviving vessels be given a blood test within the next few hours. The situation needs to be stabilized; getting a handle on this is our first priority. We were told what to look for, and anyone displaying symptoms of the contagion will be quarantined aboard our hospital ship. We’ve lost too many vessels and can’t afford to lose any more.
“The only land-based forces remaining are Air Force crews manning stateside missile silos and remote radar facilities in Alaska. They have been contacted and will remain in place until we can affect a rescue. Naval forces center around four task forces: ours here in the Med with the Dwight D. Eisenhower, one transiting the Atlantic with the George Washington, one near in the Arabian Sea with the Nimitz, and another in the South China Sea with the Reagan.
“As I mentioned, a lot of these forces have been depleted, as the virus ran rampant in many of the vessels. From all appearances, returning crew members were responsible for the spread of the virus. Aside from the task forces mentioned, we have twelve operational submarines—six nuke boats and six attack submarines; five in the Atlantic and seven in the Pacific. Our task force and that crossing the Atlantic will merge into the Sixth Fleet and head to the east coast with the Mount Whitney serving as the command vessel. The other two will merge into the Seventh Fleet and make their way to the west coast with the Blue Ridge in command. Our mission of projecting our forces worldwide will immediately cease. Our new mission will to stabilize the situation stateside.
“Our situation isn’t anything special. Our allies have been hit just as hard, as have the Russians and Chinese. We aren’t sure just how hard, but we’ll soon determine that by satellite observation. Because of the circumstances, we are on one hundred percent alert and can consider ourselves to be on a war footing. I want everyone on top of this. We’ll establish a one hundred mile exclusion zone around all of our task forces. A broadcast to that effect will be sent across civilian and military emergency frequencies every fifteen minutes. Anyone encroaching on that zone will be shot down or sunk. Combat air patrols will extend outward and alert birds in place. Anti-sub forces will keep a continuous ring of sonobuoys. We have plenty of them, so let’s use them. We aren’t going to lose any more ships, is that clear?” Gettins emphatically states, jabbing a finger at the sea of faces.
Again, everyone nods their understanding.
“Complacency won’t be tolerated. I’ll reiterate, because it’s that important. We cannot afford to lose anyone else. We. Are. It. There won’t be replacements coming in. Our allies have declined our invitation to join us, wanting to remain off their respective shores. They were hit hard, perhaps more so than we were, as many of their vessels were in port at the time. The allied ships with us are leaving once we arrive in the Atlantic. We will be contacting our Russian and Chinese counterparts so that this doesn’t go more sideways than it already has. I don’t want to sink one of their fishing trawlers because they’re hard of hearing.
“For the time being, our supply situation isn’t dire. We have enough for months, but the clock is ticking. Our nuclear powered ships will be good for some time, and we have fuel for our conventionally powered vessels. However, the time will come when we’ll need to resupply, but that’s for later. There are many long-term options that are being considered; however, other problems facing us have higher priority. With that in mind, let’s look at what we’re going to do once we reach the shores.
“First and foremost, we need to look at the nuclear power plants situated across the eastern CONUS. Those that aren’t already operating under emergency conditions will begin doing so shortly. Eventually, problems will arise that cause the reactors to be scrubbed and the plants to begin operating under emergency power, basically providing enough power to keep the cooling ponds operational. But, that emergency power is of limited duration. After that expires, the cooling ponds for the spent rods stored onsite will become a problem. If enough water evaporates, the plants will go critical. If enough
of them do, we’ll lose the eastern seaboard…and by lose, I mean pretty much forever. We only have to look at Chernobyl or Fukushima to see that.
“So, our first priority will be to get those plants back online. That won’t be an easy task. The latest numbers show that there are sixty nuclear power plants. That’s a lot of ground to cover in a short period of time. We have the expertise to do this. What we don’t have is time or land-based forces. Many of the plants are far into the interior and outside of our range. In other words, we’re going to have to establish land-based forward deployment bases. And that won’t be easy.
“First of all, any location has to be outside of populated areas…far enough away that the sound of our activities won’t attract any infected. One of the requirements will also be that we have access to jet and diesel fuels. This will require military installations, most of which reside in heavily populated areas. On our crossing, we’ll be looking at our options and operational planning.
“The good news is that we have approximately five thousand Marines and two SEAL teams with us. The Seventh Fleet is comprised of a similar contingent. Luckily, several of our amphibious assault ships and the America survived, giving us a tremendous capability. Because of the airborne nature of the virus, all clearing operations will be conducted at a MOPP4 level. Any personnel positioned at the forward bases in the east will maintain a MOPP3 level once the bases are secured. I know this will be a pain in the ass, but it’s necessary if we’re to keep our personnel from getting infected. As you have been briefed, the virus can stay hidden for up to three weeks, yet still be contagious. Once someone displays signs, it’s already too late. Everyone they’ve come into contact with for the prior three weeks will also be infected. I won’t stand for any complacency with this. Anyone ‘taking a break’ from this protocol puts everyone at risk.
“The Seventh Fleet will establish forward land bases on the west coast using the same criteria, with the exception that forces onshore will maintain a MOPP 4 level due to the proximity of surrounding communities. Their additional responsibility will be to get operational control of the satellites. That’s something that will have to occur onsite at Petersen Air Force Base in Colorado. At the moment, we have access to the satellites, but not control. That’s something we’ll need.
“The remote manned stations have been told to remain in place, and that we’ll get them when time allows. They have enough supplies, so they’re not in danger. Let’s review what we’re going to do and our priorities.
“First, we get the hell out of the Med and station the Sixth Fleet off the eastern seaboard. We link up with the George Washington, then find and establish forward deployment bases. After that, we go after the nuclear power plants in order to do a proper shutdown and ensure an adequate power supply, looking to remove the spent fuel rods after we determine where they’ll be stored. I know there are numerous nuclear plants worldwide, but we only have the resources to look after our own. Everyone else will just have to take care of themselves. After seeing to the immediate needs, we’ll then look to our long-term survival.
“In the future, we can expect any infected in the northern states to succumb to the weather. That isn’t confirmed, but the infected so far haven’t shown a high degree of survival instinct. It may even be that they starve, although one report we received before the bunker went dark said that they may have a limited capability for survival. The bottom line is that we don’t know what their potential is, thus the need to obtain satellite control and monitor the situation.
“People, we have a lot of work ahead of us, but hear me loud and clear on this. We are going to do this. Failure is not an option. We may have lost people, but not our spirit. We are what’s left. Yes, we have all lost loved ones…all of us. Grieve and move on. You are all trained to be the very best at what you do. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. Give this everything you have and trust in the others around you. Together, we will see this through.
“Now, I’ve blathered on enough. I’m turning it over to others so they can actually say something worthwhile and go over the operational details. I want to leave you with this, though. We cannot…cannot look at those that are infected as Americans, loved ones, or anything other than what they have become. They are a direct threat to our survival. What they were and what they have become are two different things. We all need to wrap our heads around that,” Gettins says, ending the opening portion of the briefing.
Chapter Seven
Outside of Pineville
October 7
Emily barely registers the murmuring brook before sinking back toward her dreams, but startles awake when she suddenly remembers where she is. She sits up with a gasp and looks quickly around. Sunlight filters under the bridge from both sides. Her bike leans against a rock, unmoved from where she put it last night. Reaching for the flashlight by her side, she switches it on, not remembering having turned it off. A bright beam lights the underside of the bridge overhead. Turning it off, she returns it to her pack. The can of beans she pulls out looks disgusting as a breakfast meal, but she’s starving and pops the tab. With a spoon, she shovels the cold, slick food into her mouth.
Finishing, she rises and immediately feels tightness in her legs and back. Edging to the stream on sore, unsteady legs, she rinses off her spoon and fills the empty water bottle. Taking a deep drink to wet her dry mouth and erase the nasty taste of her meal, she refills it. She then empties her full bladder and gathers her belongings.
Her shoulders are tight as she tries to push the bike up the incline. Emily’s feet slip several times on the incline, threatening to spill the bike on her. Eventually, she and the bicycle emerge from the creek bed and onto the span. The daylight cast by the mid-morning sun is bright, almost cheerful, and Emily wonders why she was so scared the evening before.
Knuckling her fingers into her back, she stretches in an attempt to knead the soreness away. She bends her knees and stands a few times to work out the kinks. Astride the bike, she gazes at the hill to the side. Remembering the long time spent hiking through the caves, she wonders if the entire ridge is indeed hollow. She looks back over her shoulder toward the distant city of Springfield, expecting to see helicopters flitting across the sky, or rising plumes of smoke as they begin their bombing. With the exception of a few birds, the skies remain empty. Looking high overhead, she searches for contrails and sees none.
I’ve always been able to see at least one before.
Turning her focus to the highway, the sharp bend a little distance away, she sets her foot on the pedal and pushes. She’s surprised to find that the pain she felt in her tailbone has vanished. Her legs ache, but that diminishes after a few pedals. As she cycles around the corner, a vast plain comes into view.
Emily stops just past the bend. Ahead, the road begins a slow descent onto a large expanse, widening as the hills to her right turn and angle away. The hill with the cave rises tall to her left, casting its shadow nearly to the highway. Out on the steppe, where she expected to see the military still encamped around the city of Pineville—her town—there is nothing in sight. She sees the matted ground tromped flat in the place where they were, but other than that, all signs of them are gone.
Sitting astride her bike, she isn’t sure what she should do. She had expected to find soldiers here, or at the very least, some people on the highway, and hadn’t thought past finding help. It was always crowded when she drove with her mom.
She’s now all alone in the middle of nowhere and hasn’t a clue where to go, or really how to survive. If she turns around, she can be back to her aunt’s house in a matter of hours. But, she isn’t sure how safe that will be. Although there wasn’t any sign of the army bombing the town, she’s sure that they will. Again, she’s confused as to why she hasn’t seen any of them yet. When it happened in Pineville, they were quick to respond.
What happened?
If she continues toward her town, there’s a chance that there will still be someone there.
Th
ere isn’t anything back in Springfield, so forward is only the real choice.
After a few pedals, she lets the bike coast down the long decline. Nearing an underpass, she sees the familiar signs of a truck stop off to the side.
Maybe someone will be there.
She pedals to gather as much speed as she can to power up the off-ramp. As it is, the climb is too steep and she has to push the bike the last few yards to the top. Looking toward Pineville, she thinks she should be able to see some of the taller buildings of the city, remembering that it wasn’t much further down the highway when she could. There’s only emptiness, as if a shroud has been pulled down to cover it.
Turning to look across to the truck stop, she sees that the large sign is lit. Another one near it flashes advertisements for cigarettes, beer, and hot food. Although she can’t clearly see the parking lot, she doesn’t hear any of the big trucks idling.
Well, there still may be people.
Emily pushes off and pedals across the overpass. As she crests the rise, she sees that there aren’t any cars or trucks waiting at the pumps or in the parking lot. Thinking there might be someone working there, she continues and comes to a halt near the glass entry door. The lights are on inside, giving her a measure of hope that someone is indeed there.
Leaning her bike against the wall, momentarily thinking about bringing it inside with her lest it get stolen, she peers through the glass. Inside are hanging signs showing where warm showers can be had, a game room, and places to rest. Aisles of goods line the interior, and in the back, brightly lit signs indicate the beer, soda, dairy, pizza, and ice cream. A large cashier area lies just inside the door, but she doesn’t see anyone standing behind the counter.
