by C A Bird
Jon’s mind was racing. He was near panic. “Ah, I don’t know Ben. There’s Cortez, about forty-five miles west of here, and Farmington and Bloomfield about fifty miles south, on Highway 550. Farmington’s the largest town in the area. I couldn’t tell you if they’re any better off than we are. You know, there’s a lot more game now that winter is over. I swear, I’ll bring back more.”
Ben squinted over at Jon. “Why do you care? You aren’t even from here. You said you came from Pagosa Springs at about the same time we arrived in Durango, so it shouldn’t matter to you whether we leave here are not. You got something going on we don’t know about?”
“No Ben. It doesn’t matter to me. It just seems strange to leave now when the hunting is getting better. That’s all.”
“Well we want out of this town. I’ve been thinking about getting back to Denver but we have to take it one step at a time. You’re coming with us, ‘cause we need you to keep food on the table.”
Jon looked around at the dozen or so people in the room. He stammered, “I… I kind of thought I could maybe go home. You know, back to Pagosa Springs. I’m not sure why I left in the first place. I was looking for a place with better hunting.”
Ben glanced over at Vance and they both laughed. “You’re not going anywhere, boy. You’re coming with us and you’re going to keep us fed or there will be hell to pay. There isn’t any other reason you want to go to Pagosa, is there?”
Jon looked at the floor and shook his head.
“We’re gonna leave in a couple of weeks, as soon as we figure out where we’re going. Be ready.”
Jon lifted the strap of the satchel over his head and headed back to the kitchen. Putting the two carcasses on the sink, he nodded at Jessica and Paul. Jessica had been the vice president of Jensen and Kroft Manufacturing and Paul was her staff assistant. Now they were just two people trying to survive in a very different world than what they were used to.
“Is that all you found?” she asked him. “It’s not going to stretch very far. Did you already eat?”
“No, that’s all that was in the traps.”
She flashed him a brilliant smile and tucked her wavy, long hair behind her ear. “Well, I hope Ben will let you eat.”
Jon raced up the two flights of stairs to his room and fished in the back of the closet for his flashlight. Hoping the batteries hadn’t gone dead he turned it on, relieved when it emitted a steady beam of light. He put it in the front pocket of his satchel. Not daring to leave until after dinner he went back downstairs and took his usual spot at the end of the table in the dining room where they all ate. He took a miniscule spoonful of the stew.
“I gotta tell you Jon, I’m getting sick of rabbit and squirrel. Those traps of yours don’t ever catch anything different?” Ben waved a fork at him.
“I could bring down a deer if you let me have a rifle,” he told him. “I saw some on the ridge behind the college today.”
“Oh yeah? Well, that ain’t going to happen so don’t ever ask again. Take Vance and Paul with you tomorrow and show them where the deer are. Maybe one of them can bring home the bacon… or the venison.” He laughed at his own joke.
After dinner, Jon went back to his room. He rummaged in the closet for the little metal box that held his working Timex. It was his sports watch, and had been in the box when the EMP hit, apparently providing some shielding… because it still worked. He kept it hidden, since he knew Ben would take it from him if he saw it. Stretching out on the bed, he tried to take a quick nap. He’d been clearly told, when they first captured him, that he wasn’t welcome in their group, so he wasn’t worried they would miss him. Setting the alarm on his Timex for midnight, he tossed and turned for an hour, finally falling into a troubled sleep.
Awakened by the soft beeping, Jon quickly sat up and pushed the button to silence it. Grabbing the satchel, he tiptoed to the door and carefully, quietly unlocked it. He had never gone out at night and didn’t even know if they set a guard. He turned right and went to the back staircase being as quiet as possible, listening for any sounds of pursuit. As he opened the door it made a small squeak, and he paused, waiting a full minute before proceeding. When he didn’t hear any sounds out of the darkness he slipped through the opening and pulled the door closed. Descending rapidly, he pushed through the emergency door at the rear of the hotel and exited into the alleyway.
He went past the railway station and across the bridge to the neighborhoods on the west side of town. The moon was full and he left the flashlight off until he needed it after entering the houses.
It was a long night.
He searched two entire neighborhoods. First, he would enter a house looking for the keys to a car. He found them more often than he thought he would since they were usually somewhere near the front door, on an entryway table, hanging on a key holder in the entryway or on a kitchen counter. He found a few in the bedroom on the dresser. By now any bodies left in the houses had deteriorated. Although hair and flesh still clung to the bones, there was very little odor. As he searched through the homes, he had an eerie feeling he was being watched by those silent beings.
The night was a bust. In hours of searching not one of the cars started up. He realized the batteries were all dead and there was no way for him to know whether or not the electronics had been destroyed. He would need to try a different approach. Time was running out, but tomorrow he would search an auto parts store for a battery and hide it away for another attempt tomorrow night.
Bitterly disappointed, he snuck back to his room in the old hotel, catching two more hours of sleep before he was back up to begin a new day of hunting.
***
They’d played Scrabble and Yahtzee until well after midnight. Izzy spent the first night at home alone, while the kids slept in their own beds and the others crashed on couches in the living room and basement.
She had lain in bed staring up at the ceiling, thinking she would wake up in the morning and send the kids off to school. She and Terry would go off to their old jobs and life would go on as if the war had never happened. Then she ran through all that had transpired since the war, trying to get her head back into the present. The months in the basement and the horrible incident when they turned their best friends away.
She re-lived the flight from Raton, when they tried to get to the mountains to establish a retreat for survival. Terry and Marcie’s capture and she and Cody rescuing them. She relived killing a man, and Cody being critically wounded. Meeting with the shelter people and getting their lives back to a semblance of normal. She finally fell into a restless sleep.
When Mark and Lori awoke the next morning they smelled bacon frying, mixed with the smell of fresh coffee. They dragged themselves out of bed even though they’d only slept six hours. Upstairs they found Skillet hard at work.
“Umm, that dehydrated bacon smells just like the real thing,” Lori said. As she tried to snatch a piece, Skillet slapped her hand and she laughed and jumped away.
“It’s nice to cook on a propane stove instead of a campfire.”
“Yeah, but you make really good meals on that campfire,” Mark said, as he gratefully accepted a cup of coffee. Soon others were drifting in, drawn by the irresistible smell of the bacon. Cody and the Holcomb girls took their plates to the breakfast nook and the adults sat at the dining room table. Just as they finished their breakfast they heard the sound of an engine and Izzy jumped up and ran to the front door.
Throwing open the door she gave Terry a big, bear hug. “Honey, you’re back earlier than I expected.” She looked beyond his shoulder to the front yard. “No Marci?”
“No, but they’re fine. I told them what happened and they both agreed to think about moving home.” They went into the house and Skillet slapped a plate down in front of Terry.
“So how did it go?” Lori asked him.
“Instead of Eagle Nest, I took them up to Willsburg. Thought they should be checked out by Dr. Jim. They put them up in your cabin, but Dr. J
im said once the rest of their families get there, they’ll find places for them to stay.” He looked over at Mark. “When are you guys leaving?”
“I guess right after we all finish breakfast.”
They all jumped when there was a loud knock at the door. Terry pulled his Glock 19 and approached the door, while three of the others followed behind, rifles pointed at the forward.
“Who’s there? Identify yourselves.”
“Hey Terry, it’s John. Can I come in?”
Terry pulled open the door and John’s eyes widened at the sight of the armament.
“Shit, Terry, are you expecting a home invasion?”
“Sorry, John, but we’re pretty security conscious. Come on in. You alone?”
“Yep, just me.”
He nodded at the others and Terry led the way into the living room.
“Want some breakfast?” Skillet asked.
“Ah, thanks.” Skillet already had the plate of food and a fork and handed them to John with a cup of coffee.
“Look, I just wanted you to know that almost everyone in town is glad you’re here. I, for one, know you have a lot to bring to the community.” He was shoveling eggs into his mouth.
“Do we need to worry about William?”
“No. He’s all talk. Cullen told him about you letting the folks from Trinidad travel down the highway. He was pretty upset and he has some guys escorting them through town this morning. I’m going to ask for a vote to allow any others to pass through on their way to Eagle Nest.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Mark said. “They really need more people. There’s so much work to be done.”
John had cleaned his plate and stood to go. “I’ll just hoof it back to town. Izzy, did you say you had some seeds? We didn’t know what we were doing and planted all the ones we could find in the first summer. Very few of them produced seeds, so we’re short on vegetables.”
She went to the kitchen and returned with a can the size of a pound of coffee. “There are enough seeds here for about an acre of plants. I’ll be putting in my first crop in a day or two. Even between the two of us there probably won’t be enough for everyone. I’ll be bartering for meat from the ranchers. Let me know when you have your crop in and I’ll teach you to save the seeds for next year.”
“Thanks. You guys are great. See ya later.” He waved as he left the house and started up the street toward town.
Terry grinned. “It’s nice to have an ally.”
When the group returned to their coffee in the dining room Bob said to Terry, “Ahh… me and Eydie were wondering if we could stay here. We could pick a house in the neighborhood and could help with the garden and security. We’ll be in good shape pretty soon. I was a handyman and know some trades.”
Terry grinned at him. “I don’t see why not. It would be worth it to see the look on old Guillermo’s face.”
“That would be wonderful,” Izzy said. “It won’t seem so isolated with you guys close by.”
Reluctant to leave the Holcombs and Bob and Eydie behind, they all wasted time with small talk, eventually running out of things to say.
Saying goodbye was hard. Mark stuck out his hand and shook Terry’s. “Terry, I can’t thank you enough for everything you guys did for us. I’m glad you found your home and I wish you the very best. Terry pulled him into an embrace patting him on the back.
“You guys did as much for us as we did for you. If you’re ever back this way look us up.” The Yancey boys had spent the night in the backyard with the horses. They rode around the corner of the house leading the other two mounts. Skillet climbed up behind Sam. Mark and Lori sat on Jasper waving at the kids looking out at them through their bedroom windows.
Sheri and Danny would ride and tie, a method of travel where one person would ride ahead on the bike, leave it in the road and start running. The other person would run until they got the bike, climb aboard and ride past the runner for another mile or two, leave the bike and start running. A very effective way for two people and one bike or horse to travel, as neither of the runners would become overly tired.
When they reached the barrier the guards threw open the gate, and they left Raton, New Mexico, and the Holcombs, behind.
9
The dark shadow ascended from the depths of the ocean, gliding through the waters off the coast of California. The massive form crossed the continental shelf break and moved into shallower water. But this was no shark or whale. At 576 feet in length, almost as long as two football fields, with a 42 foot beam, and towering three stories from the bottom of the hull to the deck above, the U.S.S. Louisiana was all that was left of the United States, pre-war submarine fleet. She had survived by diving to 800 feet while the nuclear rain of death fell upon the world, and cruising along the West Coast for three months before surfacing. An Ohio Class SSBN, or nuclear ballistic missile submarine, this boat could run underwater indefinitely if not for the need of her human crew for food and supplies. She had only been a week into her seventy day mission out of Bangor, Washington when the Chinese had launched their attack.
China, with a much smaller nuclear arsenal than Russia or the United States, hit both countries simultaneously, knowing they would retaliate not only against them, but would destroy one another in the process. The plan worked to perfection, not only causing the U.S. and Russia to attack each other, but to launch missiles against most of the rest of the civilized world.
All of the other countries with nuclear capability had unleashed their arsenals as soon as the U.S., Russia and China had started lobbing theirs. Israel hit several Mid-Eastern Countries, as France and the U.K. bombed Russia, the Mideast, and the southern countries of the old Soviet Union. India and Pakistan bombed each other. North Korea attempted to hit South Korea, but their bombs failed to detonate… and China obliterated Japan.
South America and Sub-Saharan Africa actually escaped the initial blasts of hydrogen bombs but over the next few months the radiation soaked atmosphere cleansed the land of billions of human and animal life forms. Those that survived were unprepared to carry on. Only in the Andes, parts of Asia and other areas where indigenous populations were capable of subsistence farming and had lived for millennia without power, did groups of people endure.
The seven blade screw slowed its rotation.
“Bring us to periscope depth, Carter,” the Captain told the Chief Petty Officer.
“Level off at 75 feet,” Carter said. “All stop.”
The XO examined the sea, as he moved the periscope through a 360 degree rotation, finally coming to rest on the oil platform lying 100 yards to port. “All clear, Captain. Periscope down,” he drawled in his Mississippi accent. The XO, a Lieutenant Commander, was a stocky man, with his thick, red hair trimmed in a flat top. After finishing Officer Training School, he had risen swiftly through the ranks and had just received his first assignment as an executive officer when the war broke out. Before joining the Navy, the only body of water he had ever seen was the wide, muddy Mississippi River, but he had taken to the water… to the ocean, like a porpoise.
Kyle Crane, the Communications Officer approached Captain Dombrowski. “Captain, the boat’s on its way.”
“Let’s get going then. How long ago was the transmission?”
“About an hour, sir. It was very clear for a few words before the static resumed. Radioman Santana is trying to get it back.”
He turned to the XO. “You have the conn, Mr. Finney.”
Captain Richard Dombrowski, Commanding Officer of the Gold crew of the Louisiana, climbed the ladder to the deck of the boat. As his head rose above the edge of the hatch he felt the wind for the first time in over two months and he drank in the salty spray. He loved the ocean, and when underwater he missed it, even though he and his crew were in the embrace of the sea.
The submarine crew, standing at attention, saluted as Capt. Dombrowski raised his lanky body through the hatch onto the deck.
“At ease,” he said, as he returned the salu
te. Dombrowski walked down the deck and turned to the west, to the unlimited expanse of ocean that stretched over the horizon to the country that had started the war, and then turned back around to the oil rig they had made their base. He could see the California coastline beyond the rig, with poisonous strips of land to the north and south of their position. According to their instruments, only a narrow ribbon from Point Arguello inland across Vandenberg Air Force Base and the city of Lompoc, was safe from radiation. This corridor of safety allowed them to replenish their food and supplies from the military facility.
He raised his ball cap and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. Reseating the cap, and hands behind his back, he addressed his men.
“Gentlemen,” he called out loudly to the men stretched down the deck, “you are the best the Navy has to offer. Every single one of you is a volunteer from the regular Navy. You went through exhausting training, including physical and mental training. You went through tough psychological testing to ensure you could stand the stress and live in the confined environment of a nuclear submarine.” He walked down the deck looking each man in the eye as he passed him. “You earned those dolphins on your lapels, and I am proud of each and every one of you.” Reaching the end of the line of men, he turned and started back down the line.
“The Louisiana has distinguished herself in both peacetime missions and in war. She was the last United States nuclear submarine to come out of Groton, Connecticut and she has earned recognition for both her crews, the Gold and the Blue. But now gentlemen, the Blue crew is gone and our home base at Bangor has been destroyed by the enemy. We are quite possibly the last member of the United States nuclear triad. All of the missiles in the ground based nuclear arsenal were launched immediately following the detection of incoming ICBMs from Russia and China. This of course was necessary to ensure those missiles were fired before the silos were destroyed by enemy action. The second part of the triad, our fleet of missile carrying bombers, the B-52s and stealth bombers took the war to the enemy. In peacetime, of course, these planes ran simulated missions, with mid-air refueling, and returned to base. During wartime, with no refueling, and no place to return to, these planes and their brave crews were probably lost.”
