by Hunt, James
“All right. We’ll need to move quickly.” Dr. Wilburn set down the tools. “Ellen, can you take the little one for us?”
His wife was a short woman. Her hair was done up in a perm, dyed brown, though there were streaks of white starting to show at the roots. “Of course.” She scooped the girl up off the floor with practiced ease and went out of the room.
“Charlie, what’s your blood type?” Doc asked, unraveling his tools.
“Um, O-negative,” he answered.
Doc gestured to the lieutenant, who was drying his hands. “Can you draw blood?”
“Yeah.”
“Needle and bags are in that drawer,” Doc said. “Make sure you grab some gloves.”
Charlie sat down and let the lieutenant work, but his eyes were focused on the limited view he had of Liz. And as the needle pressed into his vein, Doc made his first incision to retrieve the bullet from Liz’s gut.
12
Dawn broke on the horizon, and the early-morning sunlight pierced through Doc’s front living room window. Charlie had fallen asleep while sitting on the couch, the sunlight from the window behind him silhouetting his features. He twitched in his sleep, his dreams reliving the previous day in Seattle.
He saw Mel and Arlene in the ditch, the pair tossed aside like garbage. He saw the men he killed in the house when he rescued Liz, Sarah, and Adelyn, but in his nightmare, the body count was much higher. And finally, he saw Sarah covered in blood, illuminated by the bright headlights of the Humvee. She looked at him, crying.
“Take care of her,” Sarah said. “Don’t let her die.”
And suddenly, Adelyn was in Charlie’s arms, and they were both covered in her mother’s blood—
“Charlie?”
He jerked awake, his breathing accelerated and sweat beading on his forehead. He blinked and straightened up on the couch, wiping the sleep from his eyes until Dr. Wilburn’s figure materialized in front of him. “Doc.” He cleared his throat. “How is she?” Then panic struck Charlie, and he stood, his legs wobbling, as he frowned. “Is Liz all right?”
Doc raised his hands. “I just checked on her, and her vitals are fine.” Dark circles were under his eyes. He sighed. “It will take some time before she’s fully recovered, but everything looks good so far. But.” He held up a finger. “We’re in uncharted territory here. I don’t have the proper tools to check for other signs of internal damage she may have sustained from the injury. I may have missed something.”
“Right,” Charlie said, nodding. He took a breath then looked around the living room. It was warm. “What about Adelyn?”
“She’s asleep with Ellen,” Doc answered, smiling.
“Where’s Liz?”
Doc stepped aside. “Bedroom. Down the hall on the left.”
“Thanks.” Charlie stepped past him.
“And Charlie.”
Charlie turned.
“I need to know what’s happening out there.” Doc gestured out the window, but Charlie knew he wasn’t referencing his front yard. “We haven’t had power since yesterday at lunch. Car won’t work, my phone—”
“I know,” Charlie said. “It’s like that everywhere.”
Doc took a breath. “Right. Just find me after.”
Charlie nodded and walked down the hall toward Liz’s room. He passed another room with an open door and found the soldier sprawled out on top of the sheets, still dressed in his bloodied uniform, passed out on the bed.
He had questions, but he didn’t even know where to start. He left the lieutenant to his rest and carefully opened the last door on the left, the hinges groaning from his intrusion.
Liz was on her back beneath the covers. The doc had set up an IV on the far side of the bed, feeding the liquid through a tube and needle that funneled into her arm. She was asleep, the only sign of life the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath.
Charlie approached her bedside like a gentle breeze on a spring afternoon. As he towered over the bed, she looked small and fragile from his point of view. And while he wanted to be optimistic about her recovery and the fact that she had survived the surgery, he understood the reality that Doc was trying to convey.
All their modern conveniences were gone. No hospitals, no surgeons, no power, no help. Not wanting to disturb her anymore, Charlie turned to leave but paused one last time at the door, looking at the girl in the bed, then gently closed the door.
When Charlie returned to the living room, the lieutenant had woken and was talking to Doc and Ellen, the three huddled in confidence.
“Charlie,” Ellen said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Wilburn.” Charlie joined the huddle, wedging himself between Ellen and the lieutenant. “I’m sorry for waking you up last night.”
Ellen dismissed the apology and gently patted Charlie’s cheek. “I’m just glad you made it out of the city.” She gestured to the soldier. “Dixon was just telling us about what happened.”
The lieutenant was wide-eyed despite just waking up, though Charlie figured the man was used to waking up quickly in the military. And he suddenly realized that this was the first time he’d learned the man’s name and shook Dixon’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Dixon.”
“Likewise, Charlie,” Dixon replied, but there was no smile on his face, and when both men retracted their hands, they each looked at the dried blood on them. Dixon broke away first. “There were a few more units coming from my base just north of here. I was going to take the Humvee up there and inform my CO what we ran into.”
“All of this because of some electronic blast?” Ellen asked.
“Yes, ma’am. The only intelligence we’ve received is that there were insurgents penetrating the city and that there may be additional sleeper cells activated around the country.” Dixon crossed his arms. “My mission was to secure the eastern region of Seattle and establish an FOB.”
“FOB?” Charlie asked.
“Forward operating base,” Dixon answered. “It would be a rallying point from where we could take the rest of the city.”
“My word.” Ellen placed her hand on her chest and looked at her husband. “Ronald, there could be a lot of people that need help out there.”
“Does your base have doctors?” Doc asked.
“We have a few, but I’m not going to turn down extra help,” Dixon answered.
Doc turned to his wife. “It might be good for us to go. The base is probably the safest place we could be right now.”
“And what about the girl?” Ellen asked.
“I’ve done all I can for her. Aside from changing the bandages and giving her pills, there is nothing else for me to do.” Doc turned to Charlie. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand.” Charlie nodded in compliance and briefly considered tagging along, though he knew his parents wouldn’t agree. “Think you can watch Liz and the girl for a bit? I wanted to head over to the house. My folks are probably worried.”
“Of course, dear,” Ellen said.
“How long will you be?” Dixon asked.
“No longer than an hour,” Charlie answered.
Dixon grimaced but nodded. “All right, but don’t dawdle. The sooner I can report back to my division about what I saw, the sooner we can retaliate.”
Charlie headed for the door but stopped to turn around again. “And thank you again, Doc, Mrs. Wilburn.”
Once outside, Charlie cut across the lawn, his pace quick as he headed out onto the empty and worn road. The closer Charlie moved toward home, the faster he walked, and terrible questions sped through his mind.
What if those terrorists had made it to the orchard? What if his parents had been hurt? It wasn’t as if they could drive anywhere or call anyone. His father didn’t like to admit it, but he was getting older, unable to move around the way he used to. And any injury sustained now could become life-threatening.
The worry grew, and Charlie broke into a sprint. His lungs and muscles burned, a brief surge of
adrenaline providing the needed boost for the rest of the journey home. The orchard fields appeared on his left, the early-morning light highlighting the rows of green that stretched up the hills on the horizon and toward the sunrise.
Just the sight of the trees made him feel better, and his body lightened. A few seconds later, he saw the barn then the house.
Charlie turned up the gravel drive and saw his dad’s truck parked in the grass near the porch, exactly where it had been when Charlie left the day before. He leapt up the steps and shouldered open the front door.
“Mom? Dad?” Charlie yelled for them through gasping breaths. He was lightheaded from the run and the abrupt stop.
“Charlie?” It was his mother’s voice, coming from the back.
“Mom!” Charlie cut through the kitchen and stepped out the screen door and found his mother eating breakfast outside. “Thank god.” He swooped down from the steps and engulfed his mother in a hug.
“Charlie, my god, what happened to you?” His mother pulled back to get a better look at her son. She grabbed his hand and stared at the dried blood. “Are you all right?” His mother patted his chest, checking for wounds that didn’t exist.
“I’m fine, Mom. Are you all right?” Charlie asked, snatching her hands and keeping them steady in his. “Where’s Dad?”
“We’re fine, but your father and I worried when you didn’t come home last night.” She freed her left hand from Charlie’s hold and gently touched a bloodstain on his chest. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” Charlie asked. “Where’s Dad?”
His mother spun around and gestured toward the barn. “I don’t know. He’s fiddling with something. He didn’t even come to bed last night. He wouldn’t say it, but he was worried too. We lost power, and so did the Bigelows down the street.” She bit her lower lip and frowned. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
Charlie exhaled relief and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Really.” He finally addressed the blood that covered his hands and clothes. “It’s not mine. A nurse was shot. She’s down at Dr. Wilburn’s house.”
“Shot?” His mother tilted her head to the side, repeating the word as if she didn’t recognize it.
“Charlie!” Harold Decker waddled out of the barn, his sleeves rolled up, still dressed in the same overalls and shirt that he wore yesterday, and broke out into a meandered jog.
“Dad.” Charlie met him more than halfway, and the father and son embraced, Charlie burying his face into his father’s shoulder.
Harold leaned back, grasped Charlie’s face with both hands, and took a good look at his son. “Your mother was worried sick.” He kept his eyes on the blood.
“It’s okay, Dad. The blood’s not mine.” Charlie removed his father’s hands, and his mother walked over to join them. “Listen, something happened in the city.”
“I’ll say,” Harold exclaimed. “Everything in the house went dead. Even that cell phone you gave me.”
“The land line wasn’t working either,” his mother added.
“Cars, power, everything is down. Seattle is at a standstill right now, and the people responsible are just… shooting anything that they come across.”
“Oh my god.” Mary clasped both hands over her mouth then looked at Harold. “I told you I heard shooting last night.”
“Is that what happened?” Harold touched the blood on his son’s chest, his expression shifting between grief and rage.
“Dad, I told you, I’m fine.” Charlie looked past his father and toward the barn from where he’d emerged. “What were you doing in there?”
“C’mon. I’ll show you.”
The barn was two stories, with the second floor running around the perimeter of the barn, keeping the middle open. It was mostly for storage. His dad had built it for his mother, who had seen one just like it in some farming magazine. And that was just how their relationship worked. Mom would say something, then Dad would do something about it. They’d been married for thirty-eight years.
Harold motioned them over to his workbench, where tools and an old radio sat open and exposed. “I managed to get it working early this morning. Wanted to know what in the hell was going on out there, but the only thing I can get is some emergency broadcast signal playing on loop. That and static.”
Charlie reached for the dusty and aged radio. The back cover was torn off, exposing the tubes inside. It was old technology, which matched what Lieutenant Dixon had explained to him about the EMP. He looked at the back of the barn and a faded blue tarp. “If this works, then maybe—”
The radio ended the monotonous emergency broadcast and blared a high-pitched din followed by a stern voice. “And now, a message from the President of the United States of America.”
“My fellow Americans. I’m speaking to you from a secure facility where my administration is hard at work to solve our broadening crisis. If you’re hearing me, please pass this message along to anyone else that you can, because as you know, all modern communication devices have been rendered useless. Currently, the entire United States power grid is down. Emergency systems have been disrupted, along with basic utility services such as water and sewage.”
Charlie couldn’t look away from the speaker and the radio, and the chatter between his parents was washed out by his thoughts.
“Over the past twenty-four hours, I have been in contact with my generals, Cabinet, intelligence advisors, as well as several experts in the civilian fields, and I can tell you with confidence that we know and understand what happened. Our country was attacked using an electromagnetic pulse, most commonly referred to as an EMP. It has rendered any device that uses a CPU to function completely useless. And while this has affected every person across our great nation, I am here to tell you that we do have a solution, and it will be unfolded to the general public within the coming weeks. Until then, I ask that you remain calm, help one another, and above all, remain the hearty, law-abiding citizens that you are. Thank you. And God bless the United States of America.”
The high-pitched whine returned, then a rush of static, and finally, the repeated loop of the emergency broadcast system came back online.
Charlie kept staring at the radio after the broadcast was over, wrapping his mind around what the president had just said. “In the coming weeks?” He frowned. “How in the hell are people supposed to last for weeks?”
His dad offered a cynical chuckle. “That’s code for they’re still working on a solution, but they don’t want to say that they don’t have anything. We’re going to be on our own for a while.”
“Well,” his mother said after remaining silent. “I suppose all we can do is just carry on.” She smiled gravely. “No sense in worrying about something that we can’t control.”
“Your mother’s right,” Harold said. “Best thing we can do is keep things going here as best we can. After all…” He started toward the barn’s exit. “People still need to eat, right?” He cracked a grin then clapped his hands together once the way he did whenever he was done with a conversation.
While Charlie admired his parents’ attitude about the situation, they hadn’t seen what he’d seen or experienced what he’d gone through getting out of the city. And if those terrorists decided to make their way farther east, away from the suburbs and into rural country, then they’d only bring death and pain with them.
13
Charlie stepped out of the barn, choosing to take the radio with him in case there were any updates, though his father didn’t expect any further help from the folks over in DC. As he made his way back toward the house, he saw Mario and a few other orchard workers arrive on their bikes out front.
Charlie raised his arm in a friendly wave, and Mario reciprocated. If he hadn’t known Mario for ten years, he would have been surprised that the middle-aged farm hand showed up for work after a day like yesterday. The man was relentless.
“Howdy, Mr. Decker.” Mario smiled widely, his fake Southern twang muddled with his native
Mexican accent. He always enjoyed addressing Charlie like that.
“Hey, Mario.” Charlie bear-hugged Mario in lieu of their normal handshake. It was good to see him and the other guys alive. While Mario and the others didn’t live in the city, Charlie had seen enough death to make him fear that it could stretch anywhere. “Everything all right at home?”
Mario nodded. “Family is fine. No power, though. The kids aren’t liking that since they’re staying home from school, but Maria will keep them busy.” He turned to Harold. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Some kind of terrorist attack,” Harold said then gestured to Charlie. “Started in the city, and I guess it’s working its way east.”
Nervous chatter flitted between the men, their Spanish quick and startled.
Worried, Mario turned to Charlie. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Charlie stepped closer. “I have a soldier down the road at Doc’s house. We were with his unit when we were attacked. I’m going back over there now, but it might be a good idea for you to bring your families here. We have the well working, and provisions.” And deep down, Charlie thought that having some additional numbers on their side wouldn’t hurt.
“You think it’s going to get that bad?” Mario asked.
“It already is.” Charlie began to turn but stopped himself. “If you have rifles or guns, bring them and whatever provisions you have.”
Mario shook his head, and Charlie started his way up the road. All of it was surreal, and it felt as though weeks had passed since he left for Seattle yesterday.
The world had changed in the blink of an eye, and while he didn’t know what to expect next, he understood what would happen if those bastards made their way to the orchard. He felt anger simmering in him, just thinking about it.
Charlie stopped on the road, watching Mario and the other workers return home, and looked up toward the apple groves. The haze of early morning had burned away, and sunlight streamed down over the endless sea of green that rolled over the hills.
