The Day after Oblivion

by Tim Washburn

  After fifteen minutes of climbing, Gage reaches up, slides the hatch open, and climbs into the nacelle. He pulls the deer rifle up and unclips it, setting it aside. Sweat is running down his arms and dripping from the tips of his fingers as he cranks the doors open. The doors fold out much like the lid on a carton, and a cool breeze enters, spurring a rash of goose bumps along his forearms and neck. Gage steps over to the side for a moment to catch his breath. Looking out over the landscape, he can just make out the two bodies in the center of the field. It appears they’ve been tugged around during the night, probably by local dogs that survived the radiation fallout by being inside with their owners. Now, with food in short supply, most people are more concerned with feeding themselves, leaving the dogs to fend for themselves. Gage surmises that it won’t be long before those same dogs end up in someone’s stew pot. He shivers at the thought and turns away.

  With a majority of the work completed up here, Gage is on hand to start the turbine and troubleshoot any problems that arise, while Henry finishes working on the step-up transformer below. Working one-armed, Henry’s pace of work has slowed considerably. Gage meanders to the other side, where he has a view of town. He’s good with the mechanical aspects of the job, but only has a vague understanding of how electricity works. According to Henry, the wind turbine has an output of 690 volts, and through a process of magnetic induction, that voltage steps up through the transformer to a higher output of 34.5 kilovolts. Normally that would be increased further through other transformers before being released on the grid. But that was before. If they get lucky, some of those other transformers will be operational and higher voltages will be produced, providing more power to more people. Or not. They won’t know until they start the turbine.

  Gage scans the roads, searching for threats. A few people are out, looking like ants moving around an anthill from up here, but no one is within two miles of the road approaching the wind turbine. Gage steps over and grabs the deer rifle and puts the scope to his eye for a closer look—anything to keep his mind off his hungry baby girl. He scans several barns within the closest one-mile section, looking to see if any of the local livestock survived, but the barns and fields are barren. He scans farther out and finds more of the same. Disheartened, he lowers the rifle and props it against the wall. He shuffles around the equipment to make sure all is in order and spends a few more minutes puttering around before sitting.

  As feared, thoughts of Olivia crowd into his mind. What happens if Holly’s doctor has no formula? Go door-to-door begging? But how far am I willing to go to get my hands on some? Gage sighs and pushes to his feet. Would I kill for it? He rolls that thought around in his mind for a moment and decides he’s not a cold-blooded killer. He steps over to the side and shouts down to Henry, “How much longer?”

  Henry looks up and shouts, “Soon.”

  Gage groans and turns, checking the equipment again. He crawls into the nose to double-check his work on the blade pitch system. Everything is as he left it. It’ll be something he’ll have to keep an eye on due to the tremendous stresses placed on the blades while rotating. He wriggles back out and picks up the deer rifle again. Moving to the other side, he scopes the doctor’s neighborhood. The last time he visited it was at night and he wasn’t paying much attention to his whereabouts. Scanning up and down the streets, he pinpoints the doctor’s house based on the white Volvo parked in the driveway. He studies the area for a moment to familiarize himself and, once he’s imprinted the neighborhood layout in his mind, he sets the deer rifle aside. He hears a shout and leans over to look at Henry.

  “Release the brake,” Henry shouts.

  “Okay,” Gage shouts back. He steps over to the braking system, crosses his fingers, and frees the turbine. Nothing happens, and Gage experiences several moments of plummeting distress. But then a gust of wind hits and the turbine inches around.

  “C’mon, baby,” Gage shouts.

  The giant blades make one slow revolution and stop. Cursing, Gage looks over the braking system. There’s nothing to prevent the turbine from spinning. Another gust of wind hits and the blades make another slow turn. This time it doesn’t stop. One revolution. Two revolutions. The turbine is now spinning. Gage leans over the side to look at Henry. The equipment makes it impossible to hear what he’s shouting. Henry, realizing Gage can’t hear a thing, raises his left thumb high in the air. Relief floods through Gage and a large smile forms on his face.

  But then he remembers the situation at home, and the smile fades.

  CHAPTER 97

  100 miles off the coast of North Carolina

  Captain Thompson is kicking himself for allowing the USS Grant a fifty-mile cushion. With two Chinese ships sailing at full speed for the dead-in-the-water destroyer, there’s little the crew of the ballistic missile sub can do. He turns to the helm. “Conn, current speed?”

  “Skipper, we’re turning twenty-four knots,” the helmsman answers.

  Thompson removes his cap and wipes his brow. “Thank you.” If they really pushed it, they might get another three or four knots, but they’d also run the risk of creating propeller cavitation. An outcome no one wants because the air bubbles can be detected by sonar and any possibility of creating noise in the presence of two enemy ships might prove fatal.

  Thompson runs the torpedo numbers in his head. The sub won’t be in firing range anytime soon. Thompson glances over at the sonar station. “Mr. Adams, position of the Chinese destroyers?”

  “They’re stationary at the moment, Skipper.”

  Thompson glances at Garcia. “Why are they stationary?”

  Garcia turns toward the sonar station. “Mr. Adams, distance between Grant and the Chinese destroyers?”

  “Forty-seven miles, sir.”

  Garcia winces and turns to look at Thompson. “There’s your answer, Bull.”

  Thompson hangs his head. “Hell, the Chinese can sit out there and fire missiles at will.”

  Garcia nods. “And with the glitch on Murph’s Aegis system, the Grant might well be shooting in the dark.”

  * * *

  Brad, Tanner, and Nicole startle when the Chinese ships launch another barrage of missiles. The EmmaSophia is only a mile and a half from the massive warships as they begin to slow. Brad glances up at the listless sail and groans. Without warning, some type of automatic gun begins firing and they all clap their hands over their ears. Moments later, an enormous explosion occurs somewhere overhead and a blast wave arrives seconds later, nearly sweeping Nicole off her feet. She grabs the wheel and screams as shrapnel begins peppering the water around them. The gun falls silent and Brad ushers Tanner and Nicole down into the cabin as another round of missiles streaks through the sky.

  Brad closes the door and walks unsteadily down the steps.

  “Dad, someone’s shooting back. Think it’s one of ours?” Tanner asks.

  Brad slumps down next to Nicole. “Don’t know, Tanner. I hope not. I don’t see how another ship could survive a barrage like that.”

  * * *

  Thompson moves to the chart table for a visual on the location of the three ships. He braces his hands against the table and blows out a shaky breath. “Murph doesn’t stand a chance, Carlos.”

  “He still has a lot of fire—”

  “Captain,” Adams says in a flat voice, “I count multiple detonations at the Grant’s current position.”

  Thompson’s shoulders sag and he mutters, “Those cocksuckers.” He glances at the sonar tech. “Is she still afloat?”

  “Yes, she . . .” Adams pauses for a moment. “Sir, I count six more detonations.”

  Thompson marches over to the attack center, his face red, the veins pulsing in his forehead. “David, I want firing solutions on those ships as soon as you have them.”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper,” White says.

  Garcia glances at the bridge crew crowded into the small space and steps over close to Thompson. In a low voice he says, “Bull, can we chat in the officers’ ward
room?”

  Thompson turns, prepared to rip into Garcia, but his tirade dies when he sees the look of concern on Garcia’s face. “Okay, Carlos.” He turns to Lieutenant Commander Thomas Quigley. “Q, you’re officer of the deck.”

  The two men make their way down one level and move forward to the wardroom in silence. Thompson yanks open the door and collapses into the chair at the head of the table. Garcia eases the door closed and calmly takes a chair opposite the captain, waiting. Thompson rakes his hands across his face, then leans forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “Murph’s gone, Carlos.”

  “I know, Bull.”

  A heavy silence settles over the room. Thompson sobs and Garcia reaches out to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. After several moments, Thompson sniffles and exhales a long, slow breath. He wipes his eyes and leans back in his chair. “You think it’s a suicide mission, right?”

  “Yes. One ship we could handle. But as soon as we fire a torpedo, the other ship will be on us like stink on shit.”

  “So we let them go? After they just killed over three hundred of our fellow sailors?”

  “That’s our only option, Bull. We can’t bring that crew back. You’re responsible for the crew on this boat and trying to take out those Chinese warships would put the crew at grave risk.”

  “Not if we slip up behind one and kill it and then dive deep for a day or two. They don’t know we’re here. The element of surprise is a huge factor in our favor.”

  “They’ll know as soon as we fire the first torpedo. Then the second ship will deploy their towed sonar and go hunting.”

  “I want these sonsabitches, Carlos. And who’s to say there won’t be other U.S. Navy ships out there who will try to come home and get ambushed by these bastards?” Thompson wipes a stray tear from his cheek. “We sink the first ship and wait as long as needed to torpedo the second.”

  “I don’t know, Bull. It’s dicey.”

  “Not if we play our cards right.” Thompson takes off his cap and tosses it on the table.

  Garcia leans forward and looks Thompson in the eyes. “How much of this is revenge?”

  Thompson crosses his arms. “I’m not going to lie—a bunch. But if we don’t take out those ships, we’ll never be able to surface and search for family members.”

  “How many family members do you think are still alive on the mainland?”

  “Don’t know,” Thompson snaps. He pauses, takes a deep breath, and tries to get a handle on his emotions. “But even one is worth the effort, isn’t it? And”—Thompson stabs his finger on the table—“it turns my stomach to think the Chinese are controlling our coastline.”

  Garcia ponders the situation for a few moments. “What time frame are you thinking?”

  “We get one now, today, and worry about the other one tomorrow or the next day.” Thompson pulls a computer keyboard over and, after entering his credentials, pulls up a chart for the area. “Perfect.”

  Garcia points at the screen. “You thinking about nestling down in that trough?”

  “Yep. Hell, we get close enough we might get lucky and get both in the first go-round. That would allow us to surface and search for survivors from the Grant. If not, we dive deep and hide out for a day. Then go hunting again. We still might get lucky and pick up a few survivors.” Thompson picks up his cap and places it back on his head. “What do you think, Carlos?”

  Garcia runs his hand across the top of his head. “It’s going to take us a while to get within effective torpedo range.”

  “Even better. It’ll give them a chance to let their guards down.”

  CHAPTER 98

  Oklahoma–Arkansas state line

  Zane and Alyx high-five when they pass the WELCOME TO OKLAHOMA sign. The last couple of hours have been somber after encountering the group of families who will probably be dead by the end of the month. And the persistent grayness of the ash-filled skies only adds to the somberness. But the sign, and knowing they’re nearing the end of a physically and emotionally exhausting journey, lightens the mood. Zane glances down at the gas gauge and starts scanning for a suitable host. He eases Old Goldie up next to a battered farm truck and climbs from the cab. Alyx, shotgun in hand, slides out on the passenger side and takes up her usual position near the front of the truck.

  Gage unscrews the two gas caps and inserts the hose into the farm truck’s gas tank. After several attempts and a mouthful of gasoline, he finally gets the fuel to flow.

  “You’d think you would eventually get better at that,” Alyx says. “Lord knows you’ve had plenty of practice.”

  Zane salutes her with his middle finger. “You’re welcome to take over.” He hawks a mouthful of phlegm and spits it out on the pavement. “I’m hoping we’ll get enough fuel that I won’t have to do that again anytime soon. I’ve swallowed enough gasoline I’m probably flammable.”

  Alyx chuckles. “You haven’t caught fire yet.” Alyx scans the area behind them and tenses up. “Zane, two people are coming up on our six.”

  Zane turns to look. It appears to be a young couple and they’re about two hundred yards away. “Where’d they come from?”

  “Don’t know. Just spotted them.”

  Zane eases over, takes the shotgun, and moves to the cab, where he pulls the box of shotgun shells closer to the passenger window. “We should leave before they get here.”

  “I’m hungry, Zane. Maybe they have some food we could trade for. We haven’t had anything to eat since we had that turkey early yesterday.”

  “We’ll be at your parents’ house by the end of the day.”

  “What’s it going to hurt, Zane? You’ve got a shotgun in your hands.”

  “I just think it’s an unnecessary risk.”

  “They’re almost here. If they don’t have any food, we’ll head on down the road.”

  Zane shakes his head. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?”

  “I’m not stubborn. Just determined.”

  The couple stops when they’re ten feet away, and Zane’s already picking up a bad vibe from the man. He appears to be in his midtwenties and has broad shoulders and narrow hips. She appears to be of similar age and she’s attractive, with long, dark hair, large, dark eyes, and a well-proportioned body. Probably homecoming queen back in her day, Zane guesses. Although attractive, there’s something off about her. She appears timid, almost frightened.

  The young man is holding his hands up, about chest high. He’s wearing jeans, heavy boots, and a pullover shirt. “I’m Chad and this is Lori. Do I need to be worried about the shotgun?”

  Zane widens his stance. “Depends.”

  “On what?” Chad asks. Either the young man is cocky as hell or he was born with a permanent smirk on his face.

  “Your behavior. I’m Zane and my friend is Alyx. You guys from around here?”

  Chad lowers his hands. “Naw, I’m just passin’ through. Originally from Wichita Falls. Found an abandoned house and decided to hole up for a while.”

  Zane nods. Lori, the young woman, begins to visibly tremble. “You both from Wichita Falls?”

  “Lori’s local. We hooked up a couple of days ago.”

  Alyx steps around the truck and takes a position next to Zane. “Willingly?”

  “Of course.” He glances at the girl. “Right, Lori?”

  Lori offers a timid nod and clutches her hands together. Upon closer inspection, she appears younger than Zane originally thought, maybe late teens, at best. She’s dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Zane can see the remnants of a faint bruise edging beyond the collar of her shirt.

  “See. We’re good.”

  “You two out for a stroll and just happened upon us?” Alyx asks.

  “No, I spotted your truck when you rolled in. Thought maybe we could do some trading.”

  Alyx takes a moment to study the situation. She glances up at Zane to see him clenching his jaw. “We’re willing to trade som
e meds for food.”

  “What kind of meds? Oxy?”

  Alyx brushes a strand of hair from her face. “No, antibiotics.”

  Chad takes two steps forward and leans in. “You’ll have to do better than that, if you want something to eat.”

  Zane takes a half step to the left, putting himself between Alyx and Chad. “That’s all we have. Take it or leave it.”

  “You a hard-ass?” Chad asks, turning to eyeball Zane.

  “Only when I need to be.”

  Chad smiles. “Don’t you have something else to barter with?” He turns to Alyx. “Alyx? That your name?”

  “Yes,” Alyx answers.

  Chad switches his gaze back to Zane. “You willing to turn her out?”

  Instead of answering, Zane smashes the stock of the shotgun into Chad’s face, and he drops where he’s standing as Lori sinks to her knees. Alyx hurries over and helps the girl up as Chad rolls over and gets up to his hands and knees. Lori breaks free of Alyx’s grip and runs over and starts kicking Chad in the ribs and head until he collapses back to the ground. Alyx wraps an arm around Lori and pulls her off. “What’s going on?”

  Tears are streaming down Lori’s cheeks. “That bastard. . . that bastard tied me . . . up . . . and . . . and tortured my . . . my parents to . . . death. He . . . made . . . me . . . watch.”

  Alyx pulls her close and wraps both arms around her, whispering in her ear. “It’s okay, Lori. It’s over now.”

  Lori sniffles. “And . . . he . . . raped me . . . repeatedly.”

  Zane, the veins pulsing in his forehead, reaches down and pulls Chad up by the collar of his shirt. “Get up, you piece of shit.”

  Once Chad is up and standing, Zane and Alyx exchange a quick glance.

  “Start walking,” Zane orders.

  “She’s lying,” Chad shouts.

  “You’re the damn liar,” Lori screams, spittle flying into the air. “You murdered my parents.”

  “Walk,” Zane orders again. He lifts a foot and kicks Chad in the ass.