Fallen Steel: Book 2 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (Heaven's Fist - Book 2)

by Justin Bell

  “That’s my girl,” he replied. She extended her hand and he wrapped his fingers in between hers, a tangle of digits, and carefully, foot-over-foot they moved their way across the narrow ledge and down the mountain as the sun above made its way toward dusk.

  ***

  Now.

  Monday, June 29th.

  Mountain View, California.

  Darla walked along the neatly polished floors of the fancy office building, glancing around as Bruce’s shoes squeaked noisily just behind her. It was still hard for her to believe that this building was where she worked. Where SETI lived.

  Starting as a crowd-funded operation of sorts late in the twentieth century, SETI used to be devoted to the search for extraterrestrial life. Using unique radio frequencies as broadcast signals, SETI would leverage the computing power of thousands of workstations throughout the world, calling out into the blackness, eagerly awaiting a reply.

  Things changed in recent years.

  As the Earth’s orbit grew more and more congested and a stronger focus was paid to sending resources out into space, SETI’s perspective changed along with it, and it tweaked its purpose more toward orbital survivability rather than a search for alien life. As the state of the planet grew more dire, and it seemed less crucial to try to invite extraterrestrial communication, instead it was decided that SETI should focus more on helping the planet.

  With that came a lot more corporate sponsorship, a wealth of more funding, and a fancy new corporate office in the same town that it had been in all along. Significant upgrades to infrastructure, computing power and staffing had poised SETI as one of the leading space research agencies in the United States, if not the world. Working alongside NASA, SETI established itself as a credible organization that worked hard to supply critical data to the United Nations, helping them with their new Orbital Security program. Darla’s own research on the Kessler Syndrome had framed much of what the United Nations had put in place for restrictions on unsanctioned space launches, and though she did most of her work behind the scenes, her impact was felt worldwide.

  It hadn’t always been that way, and as she walked the hallways, trailing closely behind Bruce the security guard, she tried to think when it had all changed. When she’d taken the job at SETI it had been seen as a step backwards for her, a brainiac with a degree in astrophysics who could have her pick of jobs in the space administration, including with NASA themselves. Back then, that would have been the most logical career path, but Darla saw the writing on the wall, and she knew where her skills would be most valuable.

  Her research while in grad school had shown her which direction things were leading here on Earth, and in spite of her numerous academic papers and reports cautioning the furious influx of orbital objects, the entire world continued to press onward and upward. By the time she was in a place of power to actually do something about it, she felt as if things had already gone too far. She was too little, too late.

  But that wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

  “Is the place empty, Bruce?” she asked as they continued down the white, marble floor. The walls were immaculately cleaned wood paneling, several doors scattered along the smooth surface, some leading to wiring closets, others to maintenance rooms, and still others to public restrooms.

  “Oh, no,” Bruce replied. “There are a few people here. Some of them are down in the data analytics area. A few others are crashed out in the residential area. You know, those small apartments we kept for visiting scientists?”

  Darla nodded. She knew them well. She’d used them before, even with her apartment so close. There had been some pretty intense late nights throughout her tenure here.

  “Analytics, huh? Do we actually have working servers? Is the network online?”

  Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. We’ve been running on minimal juice with the generators, not wanting to waste too much fuel. But the folks down there are trying to figure out how to get some kind of signal out.” He stopped walking and turned toward her, lowering his voice, as if there might be others around to hear. “Many of them are worried this may be an end of the world event.” He emphasized those last few words with some curt nods and lifting of his eyebrows.

  Darla looked at him. The same idea had occurred to her several times since everything started going wrong.

  “You don’t seem all that concerned,” she finally said.

  Bruce shrugged. “I’ve lived a long life. I have no real family, no real regrets. Whatever happens, happens, I suppose.”

  He turned away from her and continued walking forward, Darla picking up the pace to match his. She couldn’t imagine having that attitude. Like Bruce, she wasn’t married, and she had no real close friends. She had dozens of people she would call acquaintances, and some of them she was pretty fond of, and she assumed they were fond of her. But a best friend? Or friends that she considered like family? She honestly could not think of anyone.

  Still, even without those human connections, she found herself petrified of the current state of the world and what the next few days might bring. She was a scientist, she didn’t have any particular religious affiliations and like everyone else on the planet, she didn’t really know what happened after death.

  She had hoped she wouldn’t find out for a very, very long time.

  A large lump formed in her chest, slowly spreading out to fill the rest of her, then made its way up into her throat, pressing against the inside of her windpipe. She felt the pinch of emotion just behind her eyes and she closed them for a moment, halting her progress.

  Bruce halted as well and turned toward her, his head cocked.

  “You okay, Miss Masters?”

  She nodded, holding up a hand. “I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. “I just need a moment.”

  Bruce seemed to understand and smiled softly, standing where he was. He was patient and surprisingly non-judgmental, crossing his arms in front of him, looking like the grandfather she thought of him as. A grandfather who had saved her life by pointing a Glock at someone not too long ago.

  “Even though power isn’t fully online,” Bruce said, “we have lots of computer stations here. I believe some of the analytics folks are using the servers… offline I think they said? Does that mean anything?”

  Darla nodded, then continued walking forward.

  “Yes, it does,” she replied. “SETI uses a lot of network resources out in the internet to gather data, but they pull it down to our massive storage array here for processing and to run our algorithms. Even if we don’t have a network connection, as long as we can get some of these workstations on power, we might be able to get some analytics together and some data.”

  “This may be a stupid question,” Bruce said, looking back at her again. “But what can data do to help us?”

  Darla smiled widely. “Bruce, my friend,” she said, “nothing is more important than data. Data tells the truth. If we can crunch the right numbers and find the right information, we just might be able to figure out a way to weather this storm.”

  “Storm? Is that what this is?”

  Darla shook her head softly. “I’m afraid it’s far worse than any storm we’ve ever seen, Bruce. But I still think with the right data we might have a chance of turning this around. Or at least figuring out what caused it.”

  “Good,” Bruce said, nodding. “That’s good.”

  They walked past a large, glassed-in area and Darla looked into the room, seeing rows of computer workstations. It wasn’t the analytics suite, but it was the next best thing.

  “Can you let me in there?” Darla asked.

  “The DataComm room?” Bruce asked. “Sure.”

  He unlocked the door and Darla made her way inside, looking at all of the various computers there. On the far wall there was a secondary door leading to the primary telecommunications room where all of the outside networks terminated before branching off into the various wiring closets or the data center itself. Though Darl
a’s expertise was in astrophysics, she knew her way around a computer network as well, and she gestured to Bruce to open the secondary door.

  “I need to get in here,” she said. “If you don’t mind, you can leave me in here for a bit. I’ve got some work to do, okay? Some work that hopefully might help everyone get connected.”

  Bruce nodded. “Sure. We’ve got plenty of bed space still, too, okay? So if you need to sleep, you can. The kitchen isn’t stocked, but there’s some food as well.” He lowered his voice again. “I even broke into the vending machine.”

  “You are a rebel,” Darla replied, smiling. As they joked about food, her stomach growled and she could have sworn it actually flipped over inside of her, scrambling and searching for something to eat. The feeling reminded her that it had been almost twenty-four hours since she’d eaten anything, and before going too far down this technical rabbit hole, she’d probably want some sustenance.

  “I’ll probably come out to the kitchen in a bit,” she said. “But first, I want to take a look at things here.”

  Bruce nodded and walked toward the exit, then halted and turned back toward her.

  “So, Miss Masters, you’ll be staying then?” he asked, his mouth twitching.

  Darla looked around at all of the computers, then thought back to the security of the outside door, to Bruce’s pistol, to the fact that so many others were in here somewhere with her.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “I will definitely be staying.”

  “Good,” Bruce replied, smiling warmly and genuinely. He stepped away, turned, and walked from the data communications room, leaving Darla alone to poke around.

  Chapter 7

  Now.

  Monday, June 29th.

  A small village west of Tehran.

  “So what do we do now?” Huang asked, his voice choked with emotion. The villagers had removed Tyan’s body as Bahram’s group had done with Sheng in the plane, but the memories of their friend remained, settling down around them, weighing them down, pulling at their stark emotions.

  “I don’t know,” Chung replied. “We need to figure out something. If they know we’re at a loss, they’ll just kill us all and bury us in the desert somewhere.”

  “Would that be so bad?” asked Bojing. “I mean, look at the sky. Look at the world. For all we know, Beijing is a smoking crater. Our homes are gone, are lives are gone, this entire planet is on the verge of being destroyed. Maybe a bullet in the head and a shallow grave is better than slowly spinning down the drain while the Earth tears itself apart?”

  “Well thank you for that uplifting speech,” Chung replied. “I feel better and more confident already.”

  “Is this a joke to you?” Bojing asked. “My brother is dead. Our cousin is dead. My parents are probably dead. Everyone I know back in China might be dead! That warning system in Beijing… it was probably warning us about the same thing that happened to Tehran!”

  “I’m just as upset as you are, Bojing,” Huang replied, “and I loved Tyan-Yu like a brother myself. But I’m not ready to give up and I hope you’re not either. Maybe we can do something to salvage all of this misery.”

  “How, by helping these terrorists get their computer system back online so they can kill more people?”

  Chung looked at Huang. “Bojing has a point. We need to take a stand sometime. We’ve helped these people cause enough damage, don’t you think?”

  Huang nodded as he looked around the one-time barracks, which had been converted to a makeshift computer lab. All of the screens were dark, there was no visible power, and they stood there in the center of it all, with no idea what to do next.

  “Fine, then,” Huang replied. “I’m open for any ideas.”

  Chung and Bojing looked at each other and smiled softly. It just so happened that maybe they had thought of something.

  ***

  Now.

  Monday, June 29th.

  A small village west of Tehran.

  Bahram scowled out toward the barracks, leaning against the hood of the pickup truck, his arms crossed over his chest. The air was thick with heat from the sun, and the lingering acrid stink of smoke crawled its way up his nostrils, working through his airways, the remains of Tehran assaulting his senses even from this distance.

  “What say you, brother Bahram?” asked a younger man, approaching him from behind, drifting over from one of the stone buildings.

  “I say that never should have happened, Kibzaim. Tehran never should have been hit. That wasn’t in our plans.”

  Kibzaim nodded. “Agreed. I think we are all on the same page with that one.”

  Bahram stood in silence for a moment, then looked over his shoulder toward the other man.

  “That doesn’t mean we should not take advantage of the situation.”

  Kibzaim tilted his head. “I’m not sure I follow you, Bahram.”

  “For too many years, Tehran has been the tip of Iran’s spear, keeping us and those like us at bay while they bend the knee to the superpowers. Even this supposed unsanctioned satellite launch was so much pomp and circumstance.”

  “Until we got a hold of it,” Kibzaim said, smirking.

  “Yes. Until we got a hold of it. We never intended to strike at the heart of our own home nation, but now that the deed is done, I think we should send some men into Tehran. Scavenge supplies. Take some fuel. Loot the corpse, as it were. The citizens of that great city no longer need these resources; we might as well take them and put them to good use, fighting the fight that Iran no longer can.”

  Kibzaim’s smirk spread into a tooth-filled grin. “Oh, yes. I very much like the way you think, Bahram. Tehran has fallen, it falls to us to take our home nation’s rightful place among the world’s elite. Let the rockets from the sky decimate all who stand before us.”

  “So it is said,” Bahram replied. “So it shall be done. Get some men together. Grab some of the pickup trucks. Prepare to ride. Head to Tehran, pillage what remains, build our army. Prepare to strike at the heart of the world.”

  ***

  Now.

  Monday, June 29th.

  A small town east of the deserts of Arizona.

  The houses did indeed look larger as they drew closer, and although Scott’s legs were aching, he couldn’t help but pick up the pace as the edge of town loomed tall and wide before them, sprawling out across the wide expanse of desert. From this vantage point to the west, he could see the approaching road, a simple two-lane route, winding its way across the sand, branching out from what was likely a more direct thoroughfare several miles farther south. A group of four houses greeted them on the western fringe of the town, and they found themselves walking across backyards, moving in quiet persistence in between ramshackle buildings and making their way to the narrow asphalt road that passed in front of them all.

  The windows were dark and nobody was out and about, even though sun clung to its last breath of daylight, illuminating the area around them in a strange, orange-ish hue.

  Scott looked at his mother, walking a bit straighter and more determined now that the houses were surrounding them, her eyes roaming, searching for some sign of life. Looking at the group, Scott could see why folks might be hesitant to come out to greet them, considering the Marines were roaming through their backyards, holding tactical rifles and wearing camouflage. Anyone catching sight of the group might think their small desert town was under invasion, even though their group was small and scattered.

  “Proceed carefully,” Lieutenant Drake advised, turning to the rest of the group. “Townsfolk may be armed, and may be looking for a reason to fight against authority.”

  “What authority are we talking about here?” asked Scott. “I mean you guys are Marines, but we’re not here in any kind of official capacity.”

  “They don’t know that,” Sergeant Percy said. His eyes shifted from one house to the next, suddenly on guard.

  “Do you think they might have made it this far?” Marilyn asked, turning toward on
e of the darkened homes. “I mean, do you think anyone here can help us find them?”

  “Mom,” Scott whispered, reaching toward her. “We don’t know these people, we need to be careful.”

  Her head snapped around, eyes glaring. “I need to find my children,” she almost hissed.

  Scott stepped toward her, placing his hands on each of her arms in attempted comfort.

  “I want to find them, too, Mom. Just as bad as you do, okay? But us getting shot by untrusting townsfolk isn’t going to help us do that. Okay?”

  “We can’t just assume they’re not trustworthy,” she replied. “This is a time when we all need to come together.”

  Percy nodded, then gestured toward the sky. “When stuff like that happens, people don’t always act rationally. If the folks in this town are afraid for their lives, they may do some strange things.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Marilyn replied and darted toward a nearby house, moving at a near run.

  “Mom!” shouted Scott, but he knew it was useless. She had set her mind to something and was not going to be turned away. Marilyn reached the door to the first house and closed her fist, pounding on it rapidly.

  “Hello?” she called in through the door. “Hello? We need some help! Please help us!”

  Nobody answered. No lights came on, no curtains shifted. Scott wondered if the town even had people living in it. Most assuredly the power was out, but even so, if they really did feel threatened by what they saw in the sky, wouldn’t they have withdrawn underneath their roofs where there was some perceived safety?

  Marilyn pounded even harder, lowering her head.

  “Help us!” she screamed.

  “They’re not there,” a voice called out. Drake and Percy were the first to notice, turning to face it, though being sure to keep their weapons pointed down so as not to appear threatening.

  The front door was opened at the house next door, and a plump, gray-haired man had leaned out. He wore a powder blue shirt with a white apron draped over his broad chest.