“Can we fix it?” Bob added from inside the audience.
“One thing at a time,” Dr. Johnson responded. “Those bombs were nuclear tests done in the 1940s and ‘50s. Time has come forward in those places. They weren’t new bombs dropped by a hostile power.”
Faith expressed disbelief. “How do you know for certain?”
Johnson laughed in what was almost a cackle. “People called it into local newsrooms. We took it from there.”
Missy stood up in the middle of the room. “I’ve been listening to the radio since I started working with all the new scientists. They mentioned a small nuclear attack today, but that was all they said. I didn’t hear anything about testing.”
“And you won’t, not for a long time. Maybe never. Right now, the news reports can only say nuclear explosions were seen in those areas. We aren’t telling anyone the truth.”
“But why?” Missy pressed. “We can handle it.”
“You, maybe. But America the beautiful? No way. We’re keeping it as low-key as possible to quell the panic of the nation.”
Faith laughed. “How does that help anyone? You have to tell them the truth, so they know we aren’t at war.”
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Johnson answered evenly. “We control the news. Didn’t you know? Everything that gets said out there is approved by us. Our belief is that it is better to have people think we are at war than to tell them time-traveling nuclear tests have come into the present. It is also why we have a media blackout of what’s happening in California. There are a few other oddities we’ve wallpapered over using our friends in the news media. I’m sure you can see why?”
Missy plopped down into her chair.
Faith didn’t know how to respond because it was so far out of her hands.
Dr. Johnson held out his arms and spoke like he was rallying the crowd. “My friends, you are safe. There’s nothing to worry about here inside the loop of your beloved collider. That was why we came. That’s why we’re waiting for others to arrive.”
Faith wasn’t sure where he was going with his talk, but she was positive she didn’t like it.
He continued. “You’ve been brought in on a dirty little secret, I’m afraid. It pains me to be the one to tell you this, but that bastard Shinano blabbed most of it when he went on television.”
“He described SNAKE as a safe place,” she said almost to herself.
Dr. Johnson pointed to her. “Yep. We worked hard to paint SNAKE as the bad guy the past few days, but he ruined most of our efforts.”
Faith was too tired to express all of her anger, but she let a little go. “Oi! You bastards are why the protesters showed up!”
“Don’t blame my bosses or me. We were protecting you.”
“That was what General Smith said,” she conceded.
“And he was. We were all lucky he was able to get here ahead of the rest of us.”
She was going to have to unpick his involvement later.
Dr. Johnson went on. “The villain is Mr. Shinano. He was the backer of this failed effort, but he and his people have now gone totally off the reservation. We believe his company lackeys brought in the C-4 to end their mistake. Still, he was telling the truth. This place is a lifeboat on an ocean of calamity taking place out there. We are doing our best to make sure the right people come here while still hitting our quotas, but he threw a giant monkey wrench into this operation.”
She was getting frustrated with his lack of clarity. “So, there is a way to stop the disaster? To fix it?”
He looked at the floor as if saddened. “Dark energy has properties we can’t identify or control. Now SNAKE and CERN are like two mule deer with their antlers tangled together after fighting for dominance. If left alone, the two animals might never get free, and they’ll die a slow death from starvation. However, my group has enacted a plan to kill one of those deer so the other may live.”
Faith suddenly understood his point. “If Shinano was correct, you came here to be safe. That means…”
“CERN must be destroyed.”
Sydney Harbor, Australia
Standing at the railing of the boat, Dez was tired and rushed and full of adrenaline, but she’d made up her mind. Her life’s mission had been to save animals, and she couldn’t allow those inside the truck to remain trapped in there. The Majestic might have been pulling away from the pier, but she was prepared to jump across the gap and make things right, even if it meant she was going to miss her trip to America.
“I have to save them,” she said to herself.
She took a deep breath of anticipation, fought off her doubts about whether jumping back was the right thing to do, and leaned forward. However, someone grabbed her firmly by the arm before she could do it.
“Zandre? I have to go!”
“I know,” he said sadly, “but I can’t let you. Not like this.”
“But we were responsible for locking them up. They’ll die without our help.”
Her opportunity to jump frittered away even as she watched. Zandre let her go once the boat was about three meters out. It was much too far to jump.
“Fuck, we can’t let them die,” she complained. Zandre had never shown any hint of betrayal in all the years she’d known the older man. This was the first.
“I can’t let you die, Dez. Your father and I would do anything for our kids. At least, that was what we told each other before he had you and Faith. I, sadly, never found the right woman to give me one.”
She looked at the shore and considered jumping into the water.
Zandre read her mind. “I won’t stop you if you want to swim for it. Australia’s a big country, as you know. I can’t put you in a closet while we sail past her, but know I’d do anything to protect you and get you to safety because of that promise to your father. Hell, I’ll jump in with you if you want to go back.”
The chugging engine rumbled below her feet, and the vibration grew in intensity as the ship sailed for the narrow harbor exit. That would be the best place to debark if she was really going for it.
“Do you think someone will find them and let them out?” she asked.
Zandre’s eyes were sympathetic. “You said we could get to safety by going to America. I put everything I could into this small bag based on what you told me. Whether those animals get out of my truck or not, the world is going to shit, right, mate?” He put his hand on her shoulder in a fatherly manner. “What happens to all the other animals out in the wild when it does? At least ours don’t have to worry about being eaten.”
It was a poor argument, but Zandre was better suited to being out in the bush than on a debate podium. Still, it served to break down her resolve a little more.
“I really don’t know what we’re going to find in America. My sister was vague.”
“But you believed her?”
“You betcha.”
“Then I believe her. Things are disappearing in strange ways. I don’t know if this is magic, or aliens, or the work of an evil genius. All I know is I want to get you safe from it. Me too, as it turns out.”
They shared a quiet laugh as the boat got well out into the harbor.
“Oi,” she said excitedly. “Why don’t we ask the captain to radio back to the harbor and ask someone to let the animals out?”
It seemed so obvious.
Zandre smiled. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
But before he could go to the bridge, she realized how it would be a mistake.
“Wait,” she begged. “You can’t call it in.”
For a moment, she glanced down at the water and considered jumping again.
“Why not, Dez? Your idea is bang-on.”
She sighed. “We can’t endanger anyone else. What if they send a pregnant woman or an elderly dock worker? They won’t know how to handle a Tasmanian Tiger. And who knows what a Duck of Doom would do when it’s scared? I can’t have that on my conscience.”
Zandre patted her on the back. “You think of everyone but y
ourself. Your father would be proud of you.”
She smiled and accepted the compliment, and she did want to avoid getting anyone hurt, but her reluctance to jump and save the animals herself stemmed more from fear than from selflessness.
Dez was afraid of the water.
I-80, Nebraska
“There’s a cutoff!” Connie cried. It was hard to hear over the sound of locusts beating the front windshield.
“How far?” he asked.
“A few miles,” she replied.
The swarm shifted direction before Buck could think about his options. Turning around wasn’t what he wanted to do, but the situation was different from the buffalo herd in Wyoming. There were plenty of highways cutting south toward Kansas. They passed one every ten miles, it seemed. However, once the swarm was upon them, it took away his reason to change course, so he ordered the convoy to stick to him like glue, and he’d get them through.
The wipers swished the carcasses out of his view, but a messy film built up that the wiper fluid was unable to clear.
“We have to slow down,” he told Connie. Then, on the CB, he said the same thing.
Mac howled in his crate back on the sleeper bed.
“I hear you, buddy. We’ll be through this soon.”
An impossible number of insects swarmed the truck. Sometimes, the dark shapes became so thick, it was hard to see anything on the highway ahead. It was like driving at night in a blinding rainstorm.
Cutting speed helped reduce the splatter factor, but some of the locusts still fell out of the sky and bashed themselves on the glass, as if they’d decided to kill themselves on the Peterbilt.
The hood was covered with a blanket of bodies two inches thick.
The downpour was nerve-wracking, but Buck tried not to let it get to him. “Hey, Connie. When we get to Kansas City, what do you say we get us some of the best barbecue this side of the Mississippi River?”
The engine growled as Buck downshifted to a lower gear. Not only was it hard to see ahead, but the locusts covered every square inch of the road surface. Aside from the taillights of a car far ahead and a couple of headlights from a truck going the other way, there were no signs of human civilization.
“You’ve got a screw loose, mister. How can you think of food when we’re being greased over by the entrails of a billion bugs?”
He laughed.
“Spend some time in the Marines, and you’ll learn to eat no matter what’s going on around you. In Iraq, I once ate breakfast next to a sewage lagoon that was—"
“Please, no!” she said with mock horror.
The engine coughed, causing him and Connie to lurch forward.
She became serious again. “What was that?”
Mac yelped as if mirroring her question.
A wave of locusts fell upon them, making it all but impossible to see outside. He didn’t want to frighten his passengers, but he was willing to bet his motor’s air filter would need to be drained of locust juice.
The wipers worked at full speed to keep the glass clear, but each swipe was less effective than the last. Almost without realizing it, he’d painted himself into a corner. If the truck broke down and they stopped, they might soon be buried under a mountain of dead locusts.
“Just tell me when we reach the turnoff,” he replied. “We’ll be fine.”
Thirteen
“I think this trip voids the warranty of my truck,” Buck joked as the locusts continued to pile up against his windshield and inside the air intake. He knew the motor better than his own voice, and right now it was talking trash.
He shut off the air conditioner to take some of the load off the engine, and he broke out in a sweat two seconds later.
Connie didn’t rise to his humor. “The exit is close. I think I see a sign up ahead.”
He saw it too.
“There!” he shouted.
Connie picked up the CB mic. “Guys, we’re at the turnoff, thank God. Follow us.”
“Roger, Connie,” Eve replied. Monsignor also confirmed he was still back there.
She looked at Buck. “We’re going to make it.”
“Damn right, we are. This trip isn’t going to end with a swarm of insects shoveling out our innards, I’ll tell you that right now.”
“Eww.”
Some drivers chose to pull over and park with their hazard lights on, but Buck wasn’t one to sit out a battle. Plus, he worried the crawling critters would have time to further investigate the engine compartment and get where they could do real damage. He figured their best chance was to keep going.
He was already moving at walking pace, so the exit ramp up to the intersecting highway was easy to handle. Despite the insane number of locusts and the darkness they created, Buck used the fence lines along the edge of the roadway as a guide. He followed them as he might during a whiteout snowstorm.
“Turning right,” Connie relayed to the others.
As Buck gave it some gas, the rain-like sound of insects crashing on his windshield kicked up again. The wiper fluid wasn’t rated for constant hard use like this, and the wipers mostly swished the bug guts from side to side, so he had to use a sliver of clean-ish glass on the outer edge. There were splats of bug juice there as well, but they hadn’t been smooshed around.
“It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of bugs,” Connie said matter-of-factly.
“I thought all girls were afraid of them.” Buck reached over and poked her side to show he was being silly. He wanted to make sure neither of them succumbed to the gloom outside.
“Not in my family. I had two older brothers, and they would have tortured me if they knew I was afraid of bugs or other animals. When they played with worms, so did I. When they went out hunting, I did, too. One day I realized I wasn’t putting on an act. I really did enjoy being out in nature.”
“You liked going into the au natural,” he said as if fondly remembering being outside.
“I don’t believe that means what you think it means.” She laughed.
“In nature, right?”
Connie giggled like a schoolgirl. “It means being naked, Buck.”
He acted surprised. “Even better!”
She rolled her eyes. “Kiss a man, and the next thing you know he’s talking about being au natural.”
“Well, this isn’t how I pictured our first date, you know?” He gestured outside. “The sun is gone. Bug juice is bleeding through the dashboard. That nonstop crunch under the tires won’t go away. I hoped to do better.”
“Keep trying, mister. This is not a first date. You’ll have to wait for something a little more impressive for this girl.”
He headed the Peterbilt south along the two-lane road for a few minutes while he got his bearings. The road was piled inches high with locusts, so there was no seeing the painted lines of the lanes, but the fences on each side of the road once again gave him his landmarks. All he needed to do was keep it between them.
The radio had been spotty inside the swarm, but it came back on now. “Once again, Cornhusker listeners are reminded of the nearest SNAKE-approved emergency response locations. Lincoln. North Platte. Omaha. If you have started your journey to Denver, Colorado, please turn around and head to those locations. You will be safe from the ongoing crisis.”
Buck brushed his sweat-soaked forehead with the back of his hand. “Damn, they must have figured out that not everyone could get to Denver. It was insane of them to close all those highways. Some dumb-ass probably got fired for that fiasco.”
The highways around Denver had been shut down yesterday, but the news had nothing about them today. He assumed that meant they were now open.
“It all feels wrong,” she complained. “What is it about those towns that is going to protect people from all this?” She pointed outside.
“Mega-sized bug zappers?” he suggested.
“I’m serious, Buck. The radio is sending people to these locations, but what good are they going to be? How will they protect us from di
saster after disaster? They won’t protect anyone from a nuclear attack, either. Bugs aside, they should be setting up relief shelters in the middle of these fields, far from cities. No one will nuke a field.”
“I don’t know. I guess when we get to Garth, we’ll see if there is a better option than that lab in Denver.” He had his heart set on going to SNAKE, but he still had a lot of ground to cover, so he was going to withhold his final decision until it was time to make the call.
“Holy shit,” Connie exclaimed. “It’s getting lighter.”
Mac came out of his crate and wagged his tail so fiercely his rear legs bounced.
“I swear you can speak English,” Buck said to his Golden buddy.
“Maybe he sees the light, too.” Connie leaned forward and tried to find a clear spot on her side of the windshield. “We all feel it.”
“Things are getting better,” he said hopefully.
“It’s doing something out there, for sure.”
“Then let’s take advantage of it.” He tested his luck by giving the big rig a little more gas. As long as the intake wasn’t totally clogged, he could get down the road.
The flat fields were blanketed solid with the hopping little monsters, but the skies to the south weren’t as filled with them.
Ten minutes later, even those on the ground had thinned out.
“Geez, look at that.” Connie’s attention was on her side mirror.
He peered into his. The black swarm filled most of the sky behind them, but the top of the ominous black cloud lit up like a strobe light.
“A bug thunderstorm,” he said with awe.
Soon he saw the lines of the road again.
Buck put the hammer down and waited to see if the big diesel could handle it. After listening with satisfaction for a few seconds, he tried the next most important piece of equipment on his Peterbilt.
Once the air conditioner was back on, he let out a huge sigh of relief.
“We’re back in business!”
East St. Louis, IL
“You are going to love this,” Garth said to Lydia.
He had made good time on the interstate once they got out of Louisville. The number of cars on the road had declined drastically, and he suspected it was because the radio kept talking about safe cities—places the scared population could go to save themselves from the threat of bombs, hurricanes, and other phenomena plaguing the United States. Oddly enough, none of them were on I-64.
Begin Again: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (End Days Book 4) Page 10
