The Dying of the Light: Interval

by Kristopher, Jason

  There was a crackle of static and a young woman’s voice blasted from the speakers, causing everyone in the room to jump and Potter to slam his hand down on the volume control, turning it way down.

  “This is McMurdo Station! This is McMurdo Station! Can you hear us? Oh, God, can you hear us?”

  “McMurdo Station, we read you.”

  “Oh, thank God!” There was cheering in the background, what sounded like a big crowd. I wondered how many people were left. “We thought we were the only ones left! Did the bunkers work? Are the walkers still out there? What about the government?”

  Gates laughed. “Slow down, slow down! We’ll answer all your questions. First, I’d like to know who I’m talking to.”

  The woman on the other end of the tenuous satellite connection, nearly nine thousand miles away, laughed in return. “I’m… I’m Dr. Sabrina Tanner, Governor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “You too, Dr. Tanner. Tell me something, how many of you there?”

  There was a long pause, and Gates glanced at Potter. He checked the equipment and then turned with a shrug, indicating everything was working on our end.

  “Dr. Tanner? Are you there?” asked Gates.

  “I’m sorry, Governor, but Dr. Tanner has… well, she’s a bit overcome by this,” said a new voice on the line. “I’m Dr. James Atkins.”

  “Hello, Dr. Atkins. Is Dr. Tanner going to be all right?”

  “Oh, yes, yes, she’ll be fine. She’s just a bit tired and this is kind of overwhelming. We didn’t really believe anyone was left. I mean, we heard about the bunkers, but we never expected…”

  “We never expected this either, Doctor. We believe that the only reason we can speak right now is the solar storm occurring above us all. Our people think that it’s somehow bouncing our signals back and forth, but could end at any moment. That’s why it’s imperative that we act as quickly as we can.”

  “I agree completely, Governor.”

  “Good. Now, how many people do you have down there?”

  “About nine hundred, ma’am.”

  “And who’s in charge?”

  “Ah, that would be Dr. Warner.”

  “Is everyone down there a doctor?”

  “Just about, ma’am. Just about. There’s a few that aren’t, but not many.”

  “Noted. Can I speak with Dr. Warner?”

  “Afraid not, ma’am. He’s out on the ice at the moment, and won’t be back for another twenty minutes.”

  “I see. I suppose the next thing I should ask is whether you folks have any way off the ice?”

  “No, ma’am. Not anymore.”

  Gates folded her arms over her chest, holding the mic close. “What’s your situation there, Dr. Atkins?”

  “Grim, Governor. We’re on quarter rations, and those are mostly fruit and vegetables from our aeroponics bays—” I glanced at Sheila, whose eyes had lit up at that last. I mouthed the word ‘aeroponics,’ and she shushed me as Atkins continued. “We’re all pretty weak. Our power is all off of generators, and we’re low on fuel.” He paused for a moment, then continued, his voice cracking. “We’re dying, Governor.”

  Gates motioned for Potter to mute the mic, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. I glanced around, and there wasn’t a single soul unaffected in the room. Sheila was dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve, and I had to admit I was a bit misty, too. Kim glanced at me, and I shrugged. “Nine hundred people, literally half a world away from the only people that know they’re alive. I can’t imagine being in that situation. I don’t want to. I’m amazed that there are that many left, frankly.”

  Gates cleared her throat, and Potter turned the mic back on. “Dr. Atkins, I want you to know that we’re not apathetic to your needs up here. Now that we know you folks are alive down there, I want to work with you to see if there’s anything we can do to get you home. I can’t promise you anything; after all, we’re stuck here, as well, at least to some degree. The world has gone to hell, and it’s not only the walkers we have to worry about.

  “So here’s what I’d like you to do. If you can, put together a summary of your situation, your supplies, what sort of skilled people you have—particularly doctors, that is, medical doctors—and send it to us. We’ll put our people here on the problem, and see if we can come up some solution that gets you folks out of there.”

  “That… Governor… that would be very, very welcome.” I could hear his voice breaking again, and I could tell he was close to breaking down. “We’ll get you that report as soon as we can. If I might ask a favor?”

  Gates straightened, clearly ready to help, if she could. “If it’s in my power to grant, I’ll help, Dr. Atkins.”

  “There’s a lot of Americans here, and I think they’d like to try and get some messages to people who might be in the bunkers. Family and such. If we get you some short messages, could you transmit those? Do you have contact with the other bunkers?”

  I winced at his question, knowing that the answer could be problematic. How to tell him that half the bunkers weren’t talking to us anymore, and half of those had just gone dark, with no notice, leaving us wondering what the hell had happened? I saw Gates was struggling with the answer, too.

  “Send the messages, Dr. Atkins. Make sure they’re clearly addressed with names and last known city of residence. I’ll have my people scan our files for their names and, if I can, will get them to their families if at all possible.”

  “Thank you, Governor. Thank you so very, very much.”

  “You’re welcome, Dr. Atkins. Have one of your people keep this line open for as long as you can, and we’ll do the same.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good night, then, Dr. Atkins.”

  “And a very good night to you, Governor Gates.”

  “So now you know as much as we do about their situation,” Gates said as she sat at the head of the conference table. She was tired, as we all were. It had been a long, long day, and it wasn’t done yet, by any stretch.

  “Well, ain’t this a pickle,” said Frank Anderson, head of Bunker Eight’s military unit. His voice sounded a bit muted by the speakerphone. “What can we do?”

  “Do? We can’t do anything, at least not right now,” answered George Maxwell, also on speaker from Bunker Seven. “Kim already told us those people will be dead inside a year, probably less. Personally, I give them six months. Even if we could find a way to get down to them, it might take us that long, and then the whole trip would’ve been for nothing.”

  Kim turned to me, surprised etched on her face. I shrugged. It wasn’t like Maxwell to give up easily, but he did have a point.

  “He has a point, Angela,” said Roger Tate, Bunker Eight’s governor. “There’s no way to get to these folks, anyway.”

  “I think those estimates might be a little conservative, General,” said Gates. “Dr. Atkins indicated—”

  A new voice piped up on the line, one that Kim and I instantly recognized. “Did you say Dr. Atkins, Governor?” asked Mary Maxwell, current head of the AEGIS science division.

  Governor Gates looked puzzled. “Yes, Dr. Atkins.”

  “Dr. James Atkins?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  There was a brief noise in the back that sounded like someone squealing, and Kim and I couldn’t help but smile. We’d both seen Mary quite excited, though it had been a while. “Governor,” Mary continued. “You absolutely must find a way to rescue that man.”

  “We’re working on that, Mrs. Maxwell. If there’s any way—”

  “No, no, no. You don’t understand. This is not optional. You must rescue him. Use whatever resources you have to get him back here, back to me.”

  Neither Kim nor I knew what was going on, and we both shrugged when Gates looked at us. “Why is this man so important, Mrs. Maxwell?”

  “He’s a geneticist, Governor. And not just any geneticist, but probably one of the best. Governor Gates, he might be the only man left in the world who can give
us a cure.”

  Chapter Eleven

  AEGIS Bunker One

  I glanced over at the governor, standing behind the hastily-erected podium in one corner of her office, the official seal of the AEGIS program on the wall behind her. She was poised, confident, and looked ready—or at least as ready as anyone could be—to tell nearly ten thousand people that there was a group just over 10% that size on the bottom of the world, and that they were going to be a part of a rescue plan. I wouldn’t have wanted to be out there in front of the camera.

  Kim walked in and stood by my side, nudging me with her shoulder. “Everything set?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, she’s ready to go.” We hadn’t used the public address system much since Z-Day, since really everyone knew what was going on pretty quickly, what with the community being, by necessity, so insular. But this broadcast would reach every monitor in the base, just about.

  “I still think this is a bad idea,” said Kim.

  “You’re the one who said we all needed something to pull towards, Kim,” I answered. She frowned, but I continued anyway. “The whole base recon thing worked for a little while, but that’s over with now. This, on the other hand… this could really be what we’re looking for.”

  Kim just grunted as the governor began to speak.

  “Good morning, Bunker One. I’m sure you all have work to do, so I’ll be brief. Approximately eighteen hours ago, we established tenuous contact with some survivors outside of the bunker network. I say the contact is tenuous because the signal is being bounced off several satellites between here and Antarctica.”

  She paused to let the distance sink in, and continued. “That’s right, Antarctica. The survivors we’ve been speaking to are from McMurdo Station, the largest base on that continent. We’ve been told there’s about nine hundred people left down there, from almost all the countries that had bases on the ice. We’re able to talk to them because of the solar storm; it’s not only affecting our communications with the other bunkers, but it’s causing some serious electromagnetic interference. We just happened to get lucky, and have the McMurdo signal bounce to us, and bounce back. We don’t know how long it will last, but it’s likely only days.

  “The scientists and others down there are stuck. They have no way to get off the ice, to say nothing of getting home, and they’re dying. The Advisory Board and I, for many different reasons, have decided to mount a rescue mission for these poor souls.”

  I glanced around the room, looking at some of these folks who were only hearing this for the first time. All of them were stunned, but none were shaking their head or otherwise indicating that they thought the governor was crazy. Some were nodding in agreement. I looked at Kim and noticed she, too, was observing the crowd.

  “Here’s where you can help,” said the governor. “We need ideas for how to go about this rescue. It’s time to brainstorm, people. We’re looking for any idea that’s workable, given our resources both in terms of equipment and people. If you’ve got an idea, pass it to your department head. The department heads will bring us all ideas in twenty-four hours, and we’ll see if we can’t find a way to bring these people home. Good luck, to all of us.”

  The cameras and hot lights cut off, and we stood there for a moment, everyone thinking as hard as we could. None of us had any ‘eureka!’ moments, though. The technicians cleared away the equipment and left, with just Kim, the governor and I left. She looked at the two of us with a determined expression.

  “See to it any ideas your people have are on my desk by noon, tomorrow. I want something to tell Dr. Atkins before evening.”

  I glanced at Kim, who just shrugged and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Noon it is,” I said as we left.

  I just hoped we could come up with something.

  By 1 p.m. the next day, I’d come to two conclusions: there were a lot of very creative people in our bunker—which made sense, given the propensity for creativity in the Pacific Northwest before Z-Day—and that most of them were, quite possibly, certifiably insane. One person had even suggested a massive, jury-rigged dirigible. When reminded about the destination, to say nothing of the construction of such a vehicle, the suggestion was quickly rescinded.

  “They want us to what?” asked Governor Gates, looking at Orville Seward, whose department had had some of the more… intriguing… ideas.

  “They want us to take a container ship down there.”

  “A container ship.”

  “Yes.”

  “To Antarctica.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it would certainly hold enough people.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Except for part about needing a crew, fuel, and an icebreaker. And a boat.”

  “Except for that, yes. I think we can safely put that one in the ‘no way in hell’ pile, Mr. Seward.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I grinned as I walked back over to the table with my coffee, setting one down for Kim and the governor as well, then taking my seat. “So, where does that leave us?” I asked, looking around at the board.

  “Right back where we started, with the only plan I can see being at all viable.”

  I sighed. “I don’t disagree, Governor, but it’s going to be hell to find even one plane big enough, much less a few, which is what we’ll need to bring everyone back, and someone to fly them. Military maintenance ain’t exactly what it used to be. Those big planes are probably all rusted to shit by now and will never fly again.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Blake, for that rousing vote of confidence. Still, with half a billion gallons of usable—or mostly usable—fuel burning a hole in the ground, we might as well get some use from it. Colonel, get on the horn to the other bases and see what they have in the area. Orville, I want you to go over the reports from the scouts who went to Lewis-McChord and see if they brought back anything useful. And, more importantly, if they noted any big planes over there.”

  The governor turned to her assistant. “Daniel, find me a pilot, any pilot, who can handle the big planes. C-130s, that sort of thing. Sheila,” she continued, spearing the portly BioSciences head with her gaze, “I want you to draw me up a list of supplies that whomever we send will need to take with them. Dr. Latham, organize the medical supplies they’ll need. Those people could be hurt, and are definitely starving.”

  Ted Latham was tall and thin, wore wire-rimmed glasses, and in every other possible way was the absolute stereotype of a scientist. Except he was also the best damned doctor I’d ever been to. Funny and likable, we’d had more than a drink or two together. As Gates turned to him, he leaned forward, putting down the pen and pad he’d been taking notes with. “That’s easily done, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” said Gates. “That’s it, folks. You all know what to do. Go find us some planes!”

  “That’s right, Frank,” said Kim into her headset. She was sitting at the desk in our quarters as I walked in.

  I kissed her on the forehead and sat down on the chair to one side, taking off my boots and leaning back.

  “We’re looking for anything big.” She blushed, and I could hear laughing from the other end of the line, and I grinned as well. “Har har har. You know what I mean. Hey, I’m putting you on speaker; David’s here, too.” She punched a button on the phone and hung up the receiver.

  “David? How ya doin’?”

  I hadn’t spoken to Commander Anderson in quite some time. It was good to hear his voice. “I’m fine, sir. And you?”

  “Oh, we’re good here. Not much to look at, but plenty of room. Hardly anybody anywhere around, now that the crazies have all left Austin.” Bunker Eight, where Anderson was stationed, was only about twenty-five or thirty miles outside Austin, Texas. “I hear from Kim that you’re looking for something big.”

  I grinned again as I looked at Kim, who just rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir. We’ve got about nine hundred people we need to rescue, so the bigger the better, sir. And we’ll need pilots for it, too.”

  “Well, about the only thing
I can think of around here would be those big sumbitches they have down at the Air Force base in San Antonio.”

  Kim and I both perked up at that. “What kind of equipment are we talking, commander?”

  “I don’t remember what they’re called, but I remember seeing them on a recon a couple years back when the crazies were giving us some grief. These things were huge, must’ve been close to a football field in length.”

  “Did you notice what kind of shape they were in? What was the Air Force base’s name? Can you—”

  “Hold on there, son. Tell ya what: I’ll found out what I can, and then call you back. Things are quiet here, so we can send out a recon and see what’s what. Give me a couple of days, and I’ll get back to you.”

  Kim spoke up. “Thanks, Frank. I’ll let Governor Gates in on the news. Talk to you soon.”

  “Always a pleasure, Kim. Goodbye,” he said, hanging up.

  I stood up and began pacing. “If he can find some usable planes down there, then we can fly down and get them in shape, then leave from there. I can’t remember any planes that are as long as a football field, but that doesn’t mean anything. Military hardware was never my strong suit, anyway.” I noticed that Kim was looking at me with a worried expression, and I stopped pacing. “What? What is it?”

  “You said ‘we.’ ‘We can fly down.’”

  Oops. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  “So when were you going to tell me?”

  I squatted down next to her chair, taking her hands in mine. “I hadn’t planned anything. It just… slipped out.”

  “But you want to go, don’t you?”

  I thought about it for a moment, and it sounded exciting, and interesting, and thrilling… and then I thought about it from her perspective. As the head of the military unit for Bunker One, she wouldn’t be able to go, especially since Beoshane could attack again at any moment. So if I went… well, I’d be thousands of miles away from her, in even more danger than she would be. I saw it as she was seeing it, and knew I couldn’t do that to her.