Burning Skies (Book 2): Fallout

by Druga, Jacqueline

  Until that day, and Joe thought he stepped out of his truck into the movie Pleasantville. That’s what made him think of William Macy. He half expected everything to turn black and white. Had it been that town in that movie, it would have made sense. The streets were busier than he’d ever seen them. People were dressed in their Sunday best as they walked the streets, waving to each other and smiling.

  Women with baby strollers moved up and down the sidewalks, the ice cream man was dishing scoops from his cart for a nickel.

  What year was it? Was Joe dreaming? The old playground center of town, the one that had rusted out years before and was always overgrown, was now painted brightly. The grass was cut while six children swung happily. Did they even have six kids in town?

  He pulled up to the post office, figuring they’d know where the distribution center was. But they were closed. A Chinese solider was posted out front.

  “Hey, Joe!” someone called out to him.

  Joe turned around. It was Sam, he worked at the post office.

  “We’re closed.”

  “I see that.”

  “We’ll be open soon. Don’t you worry.” Sam winked.

  “I’m not. Right now, I need to know where this distribution center is.”

  “Oh, do you have to get your rations?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “You should take your rations,” Sam said. “Everyone does. Sign up and take them, Joe. It’s at the old Ren Theater. Just ask for sign up.”

  “Okay, well, yeah, maybe I will.” Joe glanced at him suspiciously cross-eyed. “I’ll head on over, I have to drop off.”

  “Thank you, Joe.”

  “Hey, Sam, what the heck is going on around here? I mean, everyone is walking around happy-go-lucky.”

  “It’s good to be alive, Joe.”

  “Yeah. So why dress up?”

  “It’s the rules. If you are out and about in town and not working you must be dressed in suitable clothing.”

  “Oh, who the hell made that rule?” Joe asked.

  “It’s a good rule, Joe. Gives people a sense of worth.” He nodded at the Chinese solider. “It’s a good rule.”

  Joe looked over his shoulder at the soldier. “It sucks you know, that rule. Just saying. Okay, I’m headed over.” Joe headed toward his truck.

  “Say, Joe?” Sam called out. “We started a pierogi club at the church. We’re making them tonight. Would you like to join us?”

  “A pierogi club?”

  “Yeah, you know the pockets of dough with filling.”

  “I know what a pierogi is.”

  “Funny thing … everyone thought the Chinese invented them.”

  Joe grumbled to himself.

  “But that’s simply not true, no disrespect to our foreign guests here, they were just trying to take credit. The Polish people were like … nope, we got this. Got to love a pierogi, it’s like a surprise every time you open one.”

  “Not really, Sam, if they’re potato and cheese then you get potato and cheese.”

  “You should come, Joe.”

  “No, I’ll pass but thanks.” He headed toward his truck.

  “You’ll like these pierogi.”

  “I’m sure, but I’ll pass. Thanks.” Joe opened his door and climbed in his truck and whistled. Sam must have been stressed, he was really unlike himself.

  It wasn’t far to the theater and had Joe just driven around town he would have realized it was the place. People lined up before a table, while armed soldiers stood on guard.

  Joe really wasn’t in the mood to stand in line, then he noticed the ‘deliveries’ table and he loaded up the dolly with the first four cartons, took them over and headed back to the truck. When he returned with the last two Mary Lou Martin was seated at the table. She wore a wide smile and blue floral dress. Her husband ran one of the best fruit farms in the county.

  “Hey, Joe, I have you dropping off,” she said brightly, handing him a clipboard. “Just need you to sign. How are you doing?”

  “Good. Thank you. You?”

  “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

  “That’s good to hear.” He handed back to the clipboard. “How does the payment work?”

  “Not real sure, I know that it is monthly.”

  “Were you and Greg given a quota too?” Joe asked.

  Mary Lou shifted her eyes to the soldier to the left. “No, we don’t have a quota. I’m not … we’re not doing the farming thing. These wonderful people took it over after Greg’s passing.”

  “Say what? Passing? My God, Mary Lou. I am so sorry to hear that. I thought he was healthy as a horse?”

  “He was. It was an accident. A skirmish and he was caught up in it.”

  Joe was truly shocked to hear the news. “When did he pass?”

  “Four days ago.”

  “Four days.”

  “I’m good though, Joe. Life is good. I don’t have the farm to worry about, I have this job and I have pierogi club at the church. You should join us, Joe. You really need to join us.”

  “Maybe another day,” Joe said. “I have to head back. Got the zoning committee at my place.”

  “Zoning committee?” she asked.

  “That’s what I call my new workers, because they’re all zoned out. See you around and I am really sorry about Greg.”

  “No problem! Oh, hey, Joe, how’s Tobias?”

  Joe stopped cold and a lump formed in his chest. “I don’t know. He was doing that road trip thing and I … I haven’t heard from him since everything happened.”

  “You know there’s a database. It’s made up of health camps, refugee centers, displaced survivors. It’s updated constantly. Every morning you can check to see if a loved one is on there. It’s only open until ten, you just missed it.”

  “Really? Where at?”

  “The library.”

  “Thank you, Mary Lou. I will come back. Thank you for that.”

  “Sure thing, and Joe, you’ll find him.”

  Joe stopped walking and nodded his gratitude. “I’m sure wherever my nephew is, he’s standing on his feet.”

  Cleveland, OH

  The butt of the rifle landed square on Toby’s face and he knew before he even hit the ground that his nose was broken.

  He fell back in what felt like slow motion. He could hear Harris yelling, but Toby was in so much pain, it was muffled.

  He landed hard to the ground with a crack to his back. However, he was resilient. As if he weren’t even hurt, he rolled to his side to get back up. Only making it to his knees, Toby was tromped by a soldier and smashed face first to the concrete.

  All because Toby, innocently enough, protested when he saw one of the soldiers grab Marissa inappropriately and then put her in the back where the women were gathered.

  “Hey, dude, what the hell?” Toby said reaching for the soldier’s hand. At that point he was shoved back, and when they did that, he fell from the truck.

  “Toby, run,” Harris told him.

  But before he could do anything, just as he got to his feet, the soldier pummeled him with that rifle. How he kept consciousness, Toby didn’t know. Even though it was fuzzy to him.

  When they lifted him from the ground, they did so holding under his arms and dragged him face down. He watched his own blood pour from him.

  They tossed him less than gently back into the rear of the truck. He rolled when the vehicle jolted and started to move.

  Harris reached down and helped him up to the bench. “You alright?”

  Toby didn’t know how to answer that. Of course, he wasn’t alright. A man across from him, took off his over shirt and handed it to Toby for his bleeding.

  He was grateful and held it to his nose. It was all new to Toby, he had never been in a physical confrontation his life, yet there he was with a bleeding nose and a bruised ego. Worse than that he was confused, he just didn’t understand what was going on. He didn’t know where they were taking them or why. But he didn’t need
to have the answers to those questions to know that wherever he was heading … it wasn’t good.

  Ripley, WV

  There were many hand paintings ranging from abstract to realism, so many in fact they filled the entire front sun room of the single-story frame house.

  Louise’s house.

  She put out that she handled the trip just fine, but Cal knew better. Each bump, each stop, she bit her bottom lip, closing her eyes as if trying to hide the pain.

  She was in pain and had no medication to help it.

  Helen went to get something while Cal settled her into the house.

  “Where will you feel most comfortable?” Cal asked. “Can I help you to bed?”

  “No.” Louise smiled with a gentleness. “Help me into the easy chair by the window. Always was my favorite place to sit.”

  It was a small front room or living room with a couch, television, and a beat-up tan reclining chair. He walked her to it, swiveled the chair to face the window and Louise plopped in it. She reached for the handle but struggled to even move it.

  “Relax,” Cal told her, then gently reclined the chair.

  “There’s a blue afghan on the sofa, can you get that for me.”

  “Sure.” Cal took a few steps back and grabbed the folded blanket that was over the back of the couch. He brought it to Louise, flapped it out, and covered her.

  “Ah.” She pressed her lips together and forced a smile. “This is nice.”

  “Can I get you anything?” Cal asked.

  “No, I’m good. This is nice. This is so much better.” Her head turned to the knock at the door.

  Cal peeked out the window and saw it was Helen. He hollered out a, “Come in.”

  A few seconds later, Helen entered the living room. “I got you a lollipop,” she said, holding up a tiny narrow packet.

  “A what?” Cal asked.

  “They call them lollipops.” She opened the package, pulling out a cotton swab looking item with a tiny vial attached to the end. “It’s fentanyl. Put this in your mouth like a lollipop.” She gave it to Louise. “It will take away the pain.”

  “Where did you get that?” Cal asked.

  “I went to the clinic. Those are used in the field for injured soldiers. That should help her rest while we go to our meeting.

  Cal nodded and looked at Louise. He placed his hand over hers. “Hey, I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  “You do what you need to do,” Louise told him. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Cal smiled at her, leaned down and placed his lips to her forehead. “I’ll be right back. Enjoy your lollipop.”

  He stepped away, taking another look before leaving the living room. A part of him felt guilty for leaving her, but she seemed fine and at peace being in her own home.

  Cal’s meeting wouldn’t take long, at least that was what Helen said. Louise’s medication would kick in soon. Cal was certain she’d pass out and he would return before she even woke enough to realize what had happened.

  He wasn’t what Cal expected to see. On the way to meet him, Helen said he was a military man who was protecting the president at the onset of the war. Cal expected someone staunch and fully decorated. Instead he saw a man in blue jeans and T-shirt who balked when Cal called him captain.

  “Troy,” he corrected. “Please. Not that I don’t serve my country, it’s just not safe to be in uniform right now. Please, have a seat.”

  Cal pulled out a chair at the two-seater table in the empty café closed to the public. No sooner did he sit down, Troy tossed a passport on the table. It had seen better days and Cal looked curiously at it.

  “Open it,” Troy said.

  Cal flipped it open, it was his. “How …”

  “It was in a bag on the boat. Helen brought that to Steve, we’ve been waiting for you to get well. See, we can get an American to act as if they are from another country, but this … this proves you are.”

  “What do you need from me? I’m not soldier.”

  “What do you … did you do for a living back home?”

  “Basically projects, buildings, concrete.”

  “Construction?”

  “I was a project manager.”

  Troy nodded. “Can you pull off saying you’re an architect?”

  Cal laughed. “Why would I say that?”

  “Because we need someone they are going to trust and right now, our other inside person says they are looking for someone to design and build, change a small town in Ohio into pretty much a fortified internment camp.”

  Cal lifted his hand and let it drop to the table. “I don’t understand what you need.”

  “There is a small town south of Cleveland. Right now, they have about eight thousand detainees there. We want to liberate that camp. In order to do so, we need someone on the inside who can help us do that.”

  “You already have someone on the inside,” Cal said.

  “Not trusted. He’s American. You are not. They are having job recruitments just outside of there. You go under the guise you want to go back home and that you’ll help out where needed. You have the passport to prove you aren’t from here. You have no obligations to this country.”

  Cal sat back with an exhale. “How am I supposed to communicate with you?”

  “Our person on the inside will be in touch. There are more details. He has a military direct phone, he sends us messages. I’m not going to say more until you give your agreement.”

  “Why, Captain, would I want to help?”

  Troy hesitated before answering. “Everything that happens here affects your country. It already has. The UK is in chaos, it’s a matter of time before World War Three breaks out and we don’t want that. We get this country back, we take it back, we may avoid global catastrophe.”

  “How do you know my country is in chaos?”

  “We were in communication before our outpost was hit. Will you do it? Will you help us?”

  Cal looked down to his folded hands and raised his eyes. “Can I have tonight to think about it? I need to check with a friend who is ill.”

  Troy nodded. “Yes. I’ll be here until tomorrow. Helen can take you back now.”

  Cal stood and extended his hand to Troy. “I’ll let you know my decision shortly, I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cal stepped back, paused, reached down, and grabbed his passport. He placed it in his pocket and turned to leave. What was being asked of him wasn’t some minor thing. It was a big undertaking, serious spy stuff and wasn’t a one shot, one day deal.

  It was dangerous.

  He had Louise to think about and that was priority. Not that Cal didn’t want to help, but if he was going to be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to put his life on a line for a country he wasn’t that vested in.

  <><><><>

  Helen drove Cal back to Louise’s little house. Turning the bend, he caught a glimpse of her in the window.

  “They really need you,” Helen said as she stopped the truck. “We need you.”

  “I understand that,” Cal replied. “Is it going to make a difference? You said there are hundreds of thousand Chinese soldiers. Can we defeat them?”

  “There are still two hundred million Americans. Yes, we can.”

  “I will think about it.” Cal opened the door and stepped out. He walked to the house imagining what Louise would say. She’d be for it. If she were well enough, she would take up arms and fight. That was who she was. Fiery and full of life.

  He knocked once on the main door to announce his arrival and stepped in. “Louise,” he called out, walking in.

  After closing the door, he took in the silence.

  “Hey,” he said walking into the living room. “I met with them. They want me to go in there and try to get information. I know what you’ll say, but I hate to leave you.” He stepped to the chair. “Look they had my passport and …” He paused. “Shit. You’re sleeping.”

  Louise had her head propped on her ha
nd and tilted to the side.

  “I’m sorry.” He lowered his voice then grabbed for the blanket that had fallen a little from her. The moment he lifted it … he froze.

  Louise wasn’t sleeping.

  She had passed away some time while he was gone, in that short span of time.

  Cal’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he dropped to his knees at her chair side. How did it happen? She had been such a big part of his life, through such a huge ordeal, yet, she slipped quietly away after her body had taken such a beating from the radiation poisoning. He felt horrible he wasn’t there. Not there to hold her, say goodbye or even his feelings. He placed his hand over her wrist, lowered his head to her arm, and stayed there. He just couldn’t move.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Holly River Base, WV

  “Glad you made it back before sundown,” Gus said to Troy. He was seated on the front porch of Bear’s house, sipping a cup of coffee relaxing, when he saw Troy pull up in the pick-up truck and step up.

  “I still have a few hours before dark.”

  “Any trouble?” Gus asked.

  “Nothing. No Procs. I took the back ways. What are you doing here?” Troy asked

  “Thought I would take a long shift here to monitor the radio, and any other coded transmissions that come in. Plus, I want to double check all the Morse code that has come in so far,” Gus said. “That was kind of my specialty for a while.”

  “You know we have the decoder, right?”

  “Yep. But, I’m old-school. Don’t trust those things. I’d rather give it a once over myself.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “So, any word?” Gus asked.

  “You mean about the Englishman?” Troy shook his head. “No. I got the feeling from him that it wasn’t his fight.”

  “But it is his flight. Did you tell him that?”

  “I did. But it is up to him. When I left them, Helen was riding him back. She was going to get him all the details. Hopefully we’ll find out soon what he does. He knows where to find the means of communication and how to locate our inside guy. That’s all we could do, the rest is up to him.”