2040 Revelations

by Robert Storey

  Goodwin knew Hilt was right. A lot still had to be accomplished before they were safely ensconced in Sanctuary. It was six hundred miles to the co-ordinates Professor Steiner had sent to his phone during their evacuation from U.S.S.B. Steadfast. Hilt believed it would take two days to reach the location and predicted a slower final leg due to the elevation they had to climb. Goodwin signed off from his coms exchange with the commander and took his turn to talk to the convoy at large. After he’d hopefully calmed some frayed nerves, he took a seat back next to Kara in the main compartment.

  ‘You look a little pale,’ he said as he sat down.

  ‘You don’t look the essence of calm yourself,’ Kara said, taking the sting out of her words with a smile.

  Goodwin grinned as some of his tension left him. ‘It’s certainly not the dullest ride in history, I’ll give it that.’

  Kara leant over and gave him a peck on the cheek. His heart began beating faster again and this time it wasn’t due to fear, which made a pleasant change. ‘What was that for?’ he said, mollified.

  ‘Just a thank you for your efforts, I think we’re all very grateful to have you in charge.’ She gave him a smile that could have disarmed a legion. ‘I’m very grateful.’

  Goodwin swallowed nervously. Is she coming on to me? She was very attractive, of that there was no doubt. So what’s the problem? he asked himself. ‘I’ll just go and see how our new guests are coping. I think I need to explain our situation to them a little better.’

  Kara was still smiling at him knowingly as he moved off down the corridor with a sense of confusion. Shaking off the feeling, he put it to one side as he reached the stairs and made his way down to the next level. ‘Where are the people we picked up in Albuquerque?’ he asked a soldier who sorted through an armaments cabinet.

  ‘Next level down, near the middle,’ she told him.

  Thanking her, he carried on down the stairs to the lowest floor. The noise of the transporter increased as he reached the bottom. The engines were situated beneath his feet and as he squeezed past some people sitting on the floor, the vibrations of the combustion process pulsed through his legs, an alien experience to that of normal civilian electric transport, and a lot louder, too. The noise, however, was perhaps a good thing as it should have masked the sounds of the gunfight and the explosions occurring outside; Goodwin hoped so, anyway, as their guests had been through enough already.

  He spotted the young woman he’d met briefly on the roadside; she was surrounded by her group. The young disabled man who sat next to her was looking the worse for wear, but he seemed happy enough.

  Goodwin moved closer and she turned, noticing his presence. ‘Hi, there,’ he said, ‘I hope you’re settling in okay. Have you been offered any drink or food?’

  ‘We have, thank you,’ she said. ‘The soldiers’ ration packs aren’t the tastiest, but they’re better than nothing.’

  ‘I’m Richard Goodwin, by the way; I don’t know if you remember, I was with you briefly back in the city?’

  A pained expression flitted across her face at the memory and Goodwin instantly regretted the reference.

  ‘Vaguely,’ she said, getting up and indicating they should talk elsewhere.

  Understanding, he led the way back to the relative space of the staircase; she sat down on the third step and held out her hand. ‘I’m Rebecca,’ she said. ‘Are you in charge?’

  ‘At the moment I am,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘I think I need to explain our situation to you a little. I fear I may have placed you in more danger than you were in previously.’

  ‘Even if that were the case, I would take here over there any day. You’ve provided us with shelter, food, water and medical assistance. I – we – can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘You may have noticed we have been through some scrapes and that we have been—’ He tapered off as he struggled to define their situation.

  ‘Under attack?’ she said.

  ‘Exactly, thank you. I’m sorry, I’m not really cut out for this kind of military excursion, if that’s what you would call it. I’m a civilian, I work for the GMRC.’

  ‘I see. I originally thought you were part of the city’s authorities and were regaining control, but you’re not, are you?’ she said, more as a statement than a question.

  ‘No. We’re not National Guard or U.S. military. Darklight are a private security contractor that we use to carry out certain tasks.’

  ‘By “we” you mean the GMRC?’

  ‘Correct. I’m actually in charge of a more covert side of the GMRC, but I can’t really tell you any more until I know whether you will be staying with us.’

  ‘Are you planning on getting rid of us, then?’ she said with some concern.

  ‘No! No, of course not, but I’d like to give you a choice. We’re heading to a facility in Mexico which requires the highest security clearance and I can’t disclose anything further until I know if you will be joining us or not.’

  ‘Can you drop us off somewhere?’

  ‘We can and that is the alternative to staying with us.’

  ‘I don’t know where we could go. Perhaps to another home somewhere … they might take care of us until we are relocated.’

  ‘That is certainly an option, but there is a small problem.’

  Rebecca gave him a questioning look.

  ‘We’re in Mexico.’

  ‘Mexico? Is that what all the fighting was about, we were crossing the border?’

  Goodwin nodded. The woman looked a little shocked, but she was taking it all better than he’d expected. She was a tough one and no mistake.

  ‘And you can’t turn round?’ she said perceptively.

  ‘No. I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Then I think that seals it; we’ll have to go with you. I don’t speak Spanish and I wouldn’t be able to take care of myself, let alone a whole group of people.’

  Goodwin wanted to apologise again, but it wasn’t really appropriate in the circumstances. ‘I’d like to be able to say I can guarantee your safety,’ he said instead, ‘but I don’t think I can.’

  ‘Considering what’s going on out there at the moment I don’t think anyone can guarantee anyone else’s safety anywhere.’

  ‘I think we are through the worst of the danger,’ Goodwin said, hoping to reassure her.

  ‘Then that will have to do,’ she replied with finality.

  ‘All right then.’ Goodwin clasped his hands together in thought. ‘I’ll try to explain our situation a little better.’ He hesitated before continuing. ‘I work in an underground facility in Dulce; its purpose is to protect our way of life against the effects of the meteor and other events which threaten the United States and this planet.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Solar flares, super volcanoes, nuclear war – things like that. The facility we were in was evacuated due to … well, I’m not exactly sure why, but we were evacuated and told to relocate to a second underground base in Mexico. The problem is, we may have trouble getting into this new facility as we may not be welcome. I can’t really go into any more detail right now, but that about sums it up.’ Goodwin thought his explanation sounded lame, but Rebecca didn’t seem to agree.

  ‘I understand, Mr. Goodwin.’

  ‘Richard, please.’

  ‘Richard,’ she said. ‘I understand you can’t tell me everything, especially if it’s all top secret. You’ve taken good care of us so far and I’m happy to put my faith in you; I just didn’t expect the meteor to affect everything so much, so fast; it’s a little overwhelming. I suppose you’re more used to this sort of thing.’

  ‘You’d think,’ Goodwin said, ‘but to be honest, the dust cloud has taken everyone by surprise. An event of such magnitude can never be fully predicted and the best laid plans can always go awry. It’s our job to adapt; I think that’s what life is all about really, adaptation to circumstance. That’s certainly been my experience, anyway, and it’s been especially true over these last few
days.’

  ‘I suppose the real test is how you adapt, positively or negatively,’ Rebecca said.

  Goodwin smiled. ‘Ah, now that’s the trick, isn’t it? We either embrace the light or let in the dark and then deal with that decision and its consequences.’

  Rebecca smiled politely in response and stood up. ‘I’d better get back to Joseph and the others,’ she said, looking tired.

  ‘Oh, there is one final thing; wait here for a moment.’ He went up the stairs to find the Darklight contractor he’d spoken to on his way down. He found her still checking through bits of kit. ‘Have you got any spare armour I can borrow?’ he asked her. ‘It doesn’t need to be anything special.’

  ‘Sure.’ The woman delved around in a compartment. ‘Here you go.’ She passed a heavy armour-plated helmet to him.

  ‘Perfect, thanks,’ he said, and returned back downstairs, where he handed the helmet to Rebecca. ‘Here, your friend might like this to play with; it should go well with his jacket.’

  ‘His name is Joseph and he’ll love it, thank you.’

  Goodwin bid Rebecca farewell and went back upstairs a lot happier now that he knew she was up to speed on their position, and that she and her group were now officially under his care. He eased along the rows to his seat, where Kara chatted to someone next to her. She flashed him a smile as he sat down and he returned it, still unsure whether she was flirting with him and wondering what to do about it if she was. Feeling tired himself, he decided to get some shut-eye while things were relatively calm. It had been an exhausting day and it wasn’t over yet.

  ♦

  It seemed mere moments since Goodwin had closed his eyes when he awoke with a start. Kara was asleep next to him, as were many others, he noted, as he looked around. Disorientated, he sat for a moment gathering his thoughts. He looked at his watch: it was 3.30 a.m.; he must have needed his sleep and the fact he got it also meant that they hadn’t experienced any further problems; otherwise someone would have woken him. Realising he wasn’t getting back to sleep again anytime soon, he got up and stretched out his back. A satisfying cracking sound in his vertebrae was perceptible as he twisted from right to left. Taking a couple of steps to the door of the cab, he knocked and entered.

  ‘Good morning, Director,’ the driver said to him as he appeared.

  ‘Morning,’ Goodwin said, yawning.

  ‘Drink, sir?’ a woman asked him, holding out a bottle of water.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have any coffee?’

  ‘Fraid not,’ she said, looking gloomy.

  ‘Then yes, I’d love one, thank you.’ He accepted the bottle, unscrewed the cap and took a long draught. Remaining standing, he noticed they now drove with the headlights on rather than using the head-up display system. The back of a supply truck glided along the road in front of them and further ahead he could make out the lead vehicles, their lights also ablaze.

  ‘No stealth system?’ he said to the driver.

  ‘No, sir, the Commander decided we were out of immediate danger and tired eyes function better under real lighting.

  ‘I can take over for you if you like,’ Goodwin said. ‘I have a commercial driver’s licence.’

  ‘Really?’ the man said, sounding surprised.

  Goodwin laughed good-naturedly. ‘Yes; my first management post had me looking after a supply depot for the GMRC. I thought it a good idea to know the ins and outs of the job, so I signed up for lessons.’

  ‘It’s a nice offer, sir, but a CDL isn’t appropriate for something this large. We have to take a specialised training course; it’s quite a beast of a machine. Besides, we’re taking it in turns to drive and rest.’ He indicated the woman next to him.

  Goodwin finished the rest of his bottle of water and took his leave of the two drivers to see if he could get back to sleep. Although deep sleep evaded him, he dozed in his chair for some time until someone touched his left shoulder.

  ‘Director, are you awake?’

  He opened one eye to see a civilian looking at him. ‘I am now.’

  ‘Sorry, sir. I’m Dean Ward, a medic. I’ve been caring for Edna, the old woman we took onboard?’

  ‘Yes, I remember her,’ Goodwin said, stretching out his arms.

  The man hesitated and Goodwin waited for him to continue.

  ‘I’m afraid she’s passed away. I thought I’d better inform you.’

  Goodwin sighed; far too many people are dying, he thought as he stood up. This one was slightly less tragic, due to the person’s age, but it was still sad and would come as a blow to Rebecca and the other carers.

  ‘Lead on,’ Goodwin told the man and they moved down to the second level where two soldiers placed the corpse into a body bag.

  Rebecca, already there, held another young woman who started sobbing as the bag was zipped up. Goodwin waited as Rebecca led her friend back downstairs before speaking to the soldiers. ‘Do you have anywhere to put her?’

  ‘We can temporarily place the body in a supply cupboard and then transfer it to a field ambulance when we reach our destination.’

  ‘A cupboard,’ he said with some chagrin, ‘it’s not very dignified. Isn’t there anything else more appropriate?’

  ‘Not really, sir, sorry.’

  ‘Do it then, but make sure it’s locked. I don’t want her falling out, people are freaked out enough as it is.’

  ‘Very good, sir, it’ll be secure.’

  Goodwin left the soldiers to the grim task and decided to go back up front with the drivers for a change of scene. Some hours later, as they neared what should have been a bright new dawn, Hilt came back on the radio.

  ‘Sir, we have a military checkpoint up ahead. I think it’ll be best for the convoy to stop here while we go and speak to them.’

  ‘We?’ Goodwin said.

  ‘Yes, sir, I think you need to use your GMRC credentials again and see if you can get us a pass.’

  ‘Very well, Commander, let’s get on with it.’

  The long procession of Darklight vehicles came to a stop half a mile away from the checkpoint. Hilt then picked Goodwin up in his lead command truck and took him to meet the Mexicans.

  They pulled up twenty feet away and Goodwin and Hilt exited, then walked towards the soldiers who barred their path. Goodwin shrugged on a GMRC jacket, emblazoned front and back with the organisation’s logo, and zipped it up as they approached. ‘¿Hola como estas?’ Goodwin said in as pleasant a tone as he could muster.

  The officer in command held out his hand for paperwork, his expression bland. ‘Buenos días.’

  Goodwin handed him his GMRC ID card. Both he and Hilt gambled on the fact that their unofficial presence in Mexico hadn’t been disseminated throughout the country. The Mexican army had been notorious over the last decade for its inefficiency and lack of administration, due to large scale government cuts enforced by an almost totalitarian Mexican president.

  Apparently satisfied with Goodwin’s credentials, the soldier then took some time looking at Hilt’s Darklight temporary GMRC ID card. Obviously unsure of letting through such a large armed force, he called over another officer to confer.

  Goodwin’s nervousness grew as the two men looked at the card, intermittently glancing up to look at him, the commander and the distant stationary convoy. As they conversed in low tones Hilt produced some actual paperwork, which one of the officers examined in a manner Goodwin perceived as deep suspicion. Hilt shifted next to him and Goodwin glanced down and caught site of the commander’s hand unclipping his sidearm. Goodwin quickly looked away, adrenalin kicking in. One of the Mexicans looked up at the sudden movement and studied Goodwin, and then Hilt, before resuming his conversation with his colleague.

  After more excruciating moments of tension crept by, the soldiers finally came to a decision on something and handed everything back.

  ‘Todo parece estar en orden,’ the officer said. ‘Everything is in order. You are free to go past.’

  Relief washed over Goodwin as
they thanked the men and returned to their transport.

  Without delay, Hilt ordered the expedition forward and they were soon underway again, driving deeper into the unusually cold Chihuahuan Desert, the dust cloud’s ever-present cast causing temperatures to plummet.

  Thankfully they weren’t presented with any further patrols or checkpoints to hinder their progress and, driving virtually non-stop, they had neared their destination by the end of the day. The Sierra Madre Oriental, a range of mountains, ran down the east side of Mexico spanning over a thousand kilometres north to south. The entrance to U.S.S.B. Sanctuary Professor Steiner had told them to use was located on the western face of Cerro El Potosí, at over twelve thousand feet the highest peak in the range.

  Unable to see the mountain due to the lack of discernable light, Goodwin observed the peak via one of the displays in the transporter’s cab; its great bulk rearing up ever larger on the screen as they approached its western slope. Their ascent slowed to a crawl as the roads progressively narrowed, until one section became so constricted the convoy came to a dead stop.

  Goodwin radioed ahead. ‘Are we stuck, Commander?’

  ‘We aren’t yet, but the transporters won’t be able to get any further,’ Hilt said. ‘We’ve scouted a mile ahead and even our smaller vehicles will not be able to negotiate the route.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ Goodwin asked him. ‘Go back and find another way up?’

  ‘This is the only road up, sir. No, we’re going to have to abandon the transport and move on foot.’

  Goodwin frowned. ‘Really? How far is it?’

  ‘A few miles as the crow flies, six on the road. It should take us three hours max, allowing for the slowest of walkers.’

  ‘What about the convoy and all your kit?’

  ‘We can take the essentials with us. My troops are trained to carry large back packs so we should be fine in that regard. The convoy will have to be parked up further back. If we get inside, we can then order them to redeploy or potentially gain them access at another entrance. Alternatively, if we can’t get in, they can come back up to pick us up.’

  ‘Sounds like we don’t have any other options,’ Goodwin said.