The Long Summer

by Rod Rayborne

  He had been a fisherman at one time, he'd explained to them days before when they'd first spotted him sitting on his porch and came over to say hello. They'd been walking since the Blow, but didn't know where to, when Blue had started barking, drawing their attention to the old man. He called out to them and they responded with joy at finding someone else to talk to, get the lay of the land from. It was a mutual thing.

  The old man had been lonely. His wife had passed away two years before. It had been only he and Blue since then. Occasionally someone would stop their car at the end of his driveway to ask for directions, a couple on the way to their honeymoon one day, a lost eighteen wheeler on another. But after the bombs, even that had dried up. When Derek and Suzy stopped by, it was all the old man could do not to jump out of his chair and dash across the half acre yard and hug them, if he could have.

  When they asked his name, he told them he'd forgotten it. At one hundred and two, that was entirely possible. But the real reason he didn't give them his name was because of the negative notoriety once attached to it in his distant past, something he never lost the habit of hiding thereafter.

  Men had died in battle because of his impulsiveness and when he finally returned from the war, Nam, he was accompanied by a hand-written dishonorable discharge. A scarlet letter that still caused him to wake in the night in a sweat. Even his children eventually stopped coming by to see him.

  He thought then that Millie would abandon him too but of course she never did. They moved from that town down the coast. Mum about his identity, people simply started referring to him as 'Pops'. It suited him.

  Now they all ate quietly, spoons tinging on the ceramic bowls the only sounds they heard now that the sea gulls were gone. In the last three days Pops had seen no bird at all. Only Millie he missed more.

  When they finished, they set aside the dishes and sat looking out to sea. Finally the old man turned towards them, addressing Derek and Suzy with more affection than two days of getting to know strangers under normal circumstances would otherwise warrant.

  "You two saved an old man a lonely death. I'm grateful. Thank you."

  "What death?" Derek asked, glancing at Suzy sadly. "You got a long way to go, Pops."

  "Nonsense! This old salt's on his last legs. No point pretending otherwise. Me and Blue, we're the same. He's as old in dog years as I am in human. I s'pect we'll be moving on about the same time, more or less. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. You seen that box with all the dials on it sitting on the bench in the cellar?"

  "The Ham radio? I saw it when I was working on your generator."

  "That's the one. Was working right up until the Blow. Well, the day before, I heard something on it. Something that scared the dickens outta me. When I was in the war, there was a code we knew, a phrase we learned and hoped we would never hear again. Omega 5x5. Back then it was Omega Loud and Clear. Later came the 5x5. I never did hear it again. Till the day before the Blow. Now it could all just be a coincidence. A fluke. Anything. But seeing what happened the day after that, I s'pose I'd have to be darn near stupid to think so."

  "Omega 5x5? What does it mean Pops?" Derek asked.

  "Doomsday. End if the world. Something like that."

  "Where did it come from? Can you tell that on a Ham?"

  "See, that's what's been bothering me. Cause that voice come across in perfect English and if I read my channels right, it was from DC."

  "Maybe someone had advanced warning. Was telling a friend to be prepared," Derek interjected.

  "Could be. They got all those satellites up there now. They can see everything another country is doing at the touch of a button. Didn't have nothing like that when I was serving. Planes did our spying for us then. Now they know what you're doing before you know it yourself.

  "There's things they look for when they get to feeling like another country is planning an invasion. Troop buildup and movements, especially near a border. Weapons being moved around. Maybe city streets emptying, people being told to go to shelters. Of course before that, Ambassadors tend to be recalled back to their own country. Citizens advised to leave. But for something super sneaky like a first strike, they might decided to say nothing that might give the enemy a warning about what they're up to. Could be they saw something like this from their eyes in the sky and passed on that warning. Me, being an old man with nothing better to do, I was fooling around on that radio and heard it."

  "You think that's what happened? They found out we were going to be hit, didn't want to tip the enemy off by telling us?" Derek asked.

  "Well now, that's what I've been asking myself. Can't rightly say I know the answer. Likely they thought they didn't have the time and would only succeed in causing a panic. Or, like I say, maybe they thought the other side would know they were on to them. That's the best answer I can come up with."

  Suzy looked thoughtful.

  "If they had a day's warning, seems like that would have been enough time to do something. Fire on them before they fired on us. Am I missing something?"

  "No, you're right about that. There must have been something else holding them back. Damned if I know what it was."

  Chapter Forty Four

  G ordon touched the bandage gingerly and winced. "What, the apocalypse wasn't enough?" he growled. He was lying where he had fallen on the hard linoleum floor of the battered electronics store but now a thin blanket, his head resting on a pillow, covered him. His fingers gently plied the area around the bandage and he flinched again.

  "I'm sorry mister!" Sofia wailed. "I didn't know there was anyone else left. I haven't seen anyone since... well since you know what. I've been just walking around. Trying to get out of the city. I wouldn't have shot you if you hadn't surprised me. It's your fault really. Sneaking up on me like that. I found these guns in a store. Only found out they work a few hours ago. See, I got stuck on a roof..."

  Gordon held up his hand. "Woah, I get it. Don't need your life story."

  He looked around, memory of the events just prior to his being shot trickling back into his consciousness. "How long have I been laying here?"

  "Just a couple hours. Gave me time to get those things for you. The pillow and blanket. Cleaned you up as best I could. You were kinda gross. I'm sorry I shot you. You startled me."

  "Yeah, you said that already. Hell of an introduction." Gordon sat up slowly, pushing back the blanket to look at his injury. Suddenly the woman threw her arms around him.

  "I'm so glad you're alive, mister. I've never shot anyone before, you know. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I would have done if you had died. I thought I was the only one left in LA."

  Gordon yelped when Sofia threw her weight against him. He leaned back against one hand, protecting the injury on his side with the other.

  "I believe you. I believe you. But I need you to let go of me."

  Sofia immediately sat back, a horrified look in her eyes. She saw Gordon grimace, bending over in pain.

  "I hurt you, didn't I? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

  "It's ok. It's ok. Just, just stay over there. Please."

  "It's just me, mister. I'm stupid. Sometimes I just…"

  "You're not stupid. But you do talk a lot. Just kind of shut up for a minute so I can think, would you."

  Ignoring Gordon's request, she went on.

  "I dressed your wounds with bandages I found in a pharmacy. Of course I cleaned them first. Your wounds, not the bandages. They were already clean. Sterile. Then I poured alcohol on them. Your wounds, not the…"

  "Wounds?" Gordon interrupted. "How many times did you shoot me anyway?"

  "Just once, but the bullet came out the back. I put a lot of antibiotic cream on them. And I got you this."

  She held out a prescription bottle labeled, "Anne Avery. Take one every 4 hours." It was penicillin.

  "I've given you four already. You probably don't remember. You were kind of out of it."

  "Thanks, I guess." He felt somewhat mollifie
d by her attempt to help him but wasn't in the mood to say so just yet. He looked at the jewelry around her neck.

  "Work at Denny's, do you?"

  "What makes you think I work at Denny's?" she asked.

  "Bling. You like bling."

  She looked down at her rows of necklaces. "These aren't bling! These happen to be quite expensive. I found them at some of the finest jewelry stores in LA."

  "Looted, you mean."

  "They were just laying there. What was I supposed to do, leave them there?"

  "That's one idea."

  Annoyed, she scrutinized him critically. "Don't look like you've suffered much these last few days. Where have you been getting your food?"

  "Touchy, aren't you?"

  "Grateful, aren't YOU?"

  " Grateful? For what?"

  "How about saving your life?"

  "Wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't shot me in the first place."

  "Well, I wouldn't have shot you if you hadn't snuck up on me."

  "So walking is a Capital Offense now?"

  She murmured something inaudible and Gordon asked her to speak up.

  "I said how about if I shoot you again?"

  "May as well. Doubt I'll ever recover from the first gun shot anyway."

  Sofia yanked the pistol out of the holster and looked at him menacingly.

  "Try for the same spot, would you? I don't need more air conditioning," Gordon said, irked at her quick temper.

  Sofia raised the pistol and put a bullet in the ceiling. Grit rained down on them.

  "Nice aim. Misplace your glasses?"

  "Aim wasn't too bad the first time."

  "There's always a first time."

  "Don't push me," she warned.

  "Never laid a glove on you."

  "Stop answering back. It makes me mad."

  "Doesn't take much."

  She put another bullet into the tiles.

  "ok," Gordon said, "thanks for saving me after nearly blowing my head off. I'm grateful."

  Sofia lowered the gun, looking somewhat appeased.

  "You're welcome."

  Gordon almost laughed but thinking better of it, forced it down. He became aware then of a musky odor coming from her direction, an aroma of sweat and something that smelled of pine. A fine smear of grime accented her nose while bits of leaves where twined in her long black hair, tousled about her shoulders in gentle waves. She projected the look of a wild animal, someone who'd just stepped out of an Edgar Rice Burroughs cover. How she had managed such an image in only three days time, Gordon couldn't imagine.

  "Gordon," he said, holding out his hand.

  Taking it in both of hers, she held it and said, "I'm Sofia. So pleased to meet you!" She smiled broadly.

  Woah, he thought, she's interesting. Must get those guns!

  Gordon smiled back. "Well at least if you had to shoot me, you did it in the right place. Got speared by a bit of metal there a coupla days ago. Saves me a scar."

  Sofia grinned, genuinely pleased.

  Twenty minutes later, Gordon was up and looking over a collection of treasures the likes of which he had never seen before outside of a museum. Sofia stood next to him, her angelic face taking on a devilish grin.

  "Where did you get all this stuff?" he asked.

  "Here and there," she said triumphantly. "Look at it. Isn't it beautiful?"

  "Sure. I guess so. What do you want it for?"

  "Are you serious?" she asked, glancing at him pityingly. Concern crept into her eyes. "Are you feeling alright? You know how much this stuff is worth? A fortune, I can tell you that!"

  "Yeah, I've no doubt." He shook his head and started to walk to the back of the store.

  "Where are you going?" Sofia frowned. She was puzzled at his apparent lack of interest in her haul. She looked back at it wondering if she'd forgotten something.

  "Looking for a radio."

  "Oh, there are lots of radios here. I saw some in the back." She pointed behind him.

  "Thanks. But I'm not looking for just any radio. I need a short-wave. Seen any of those?"

  "Short? No, didn't see any short ones. They got big screen TVs against that wall if you're interested." She pointed.

  "Short wave. It's a particular kind of radio. Can hear things far away. Find out what's going on in the rest of the world."

  "Oh, I don't know then. Wait, I'll help you look."

  They walked through scattered shelving and fallen merchandise making their way towards the back. Rounding an aisle, Gordon stopped, squinting at a pile of something that looked in the gloom vaguely like radios.

  Next to him, Sofia was carrying a green glow stick he had given her from his pack. It cast a feeble but appreciable light over the fallen merchandise through which he rooted. After a minute, the light began to wander and he was left in the dark once again. He looked back over his shoulder. Sofia was holding it out towards a bank of laptops, pressing buttons. Gordon cleared his throat and the light swung back in his direction with a quiet, "Sorry" following. He sighed and looked back at the radios.

  Gordon had tried earlier to explain the physics of an EMP to Sofia as best he understood it when she told him she was looking for a working phone, but though she listened intently, nodding at the appropriate times, it didn't seem to sink in. At her feet were several empty phone boxes surrounded by phones she had discarded as 'no good' when each would fail to respond to her impatient button pressing and shaking. She told him the phones usually came partially charged up, so she was miffed that none of them seemed to be working.

  Now standing over the radios with him, Sofia said, "If the phones don't work, why do you think the radios will? You have to think these things out for yourself. I may not always be here tell you this stuff."

  Just like that. Sofia had already made a place in her life for Gordon. There was no preamble, no question in her mind that her offer of companionship might be refused. They were here now. The future was neither discussed nor even considered. She would let that take care of itself.

  For his part, Gordon felt an odd warmth coming from her that was not altogether disagreeable. Admittedly naïve and short-tempered, her openness and generally kind nature tricked his protective instincts into service. A feeling that he was sure would dissolve once they parted and went their separate ways.

  Now as Gordon stood over the pile of radios, he told her that some radios made in an aluminum shell might survive an EMP because the metal was better able to withstand a power surge, which was what he'd heard an EMP really was. He didn't know if that might be the situation here, he told her, but there was no harm in looking.

  Now as he pushed the radios around with his foot, the light started to drift again. He reached out and took Sofia's hand and pulled her down next to him. He turned then and stared at something with a transparent plastic wideband face on the front.

  "Hold the light over here," he said, lifting a black box from the floor. When she did, he noted the crank handle with a note of excitement. Immediately he began to turn it vigorously.

  "What's that?" Sofia asked with a note of disapproval.

  For answer, he flipped up a button on its face and static blared back at them. Sofia let out a gasp and dropped the glow stick.

  Instinctively they reached out together for it, Gordon reaching it first. Sofia's hand grabbed onto his. They both paused for a moment looking at their hands then Sofia quickly let go. Embarrassed, she looked down, unwilling to meet Gordon's eyes, now looking unabashedly back at her. Then sensing her shyness, he turned back towards the radio.

  The radio continued it's static protest until Gordon twisted the dial. They were met with silence interrupted by more static. Gordon flipped the Short Wave selection mode from SW 1 to SW 2. Again, static. Then as he reached the end of the dial, they heard a voice, far away and bathed in crackles. It spoke in a language neither he nor Sofia could understand, though Gordon thought it sounded French. The speaker seemed nervous, urgent, needful.

 
It went on for several minutes and Gordon was about to turn the dial when it became quiet. He paused to see if the language might change. After a few seconds, a new voice sounded speaking in Spanish. It also lasted minutes before the radio became silent again. It was a prerecorded broadcast he realized, spoken in several languages. Likely, Gordon thought, talking about the disaster of days ago. He waited, now confident that English would eventually be heard. And soon after the Spanish voice had ceased, a male voice blasted out in English.

  "Attention. To all listeners, this is the Voice of America. This is a message from the Government of the New States of America and it's Allies and partners around the world to all listeners. On Saturday, July 7th, at approximately two p.m. PDT, the United States was viciously attacked by the joint military forces of the Government's of Russia and the Peoples Republic of China. This attack was coordinated, unilateral and unprovoked.

  "As of that time, a state of war has existed between our countries. The New States of America, assisted by its allies in the region, has delivered a massive and devastating counter attack to the military and commercial infrastructures of both countries. They are now suffering the consequences for their despicable actions and will continue to do so into the unforeseeable future.

  "The United States, now the New States of America, Europe and much of the rest of the world is currently in a period of recovery. It will be a prolonged effort that will require the ready participation of all citizens. Relief camps have been set up at key locations around the contiguous forty-eight states, as well as Alaska and Hawaii. Currently no aid is available in the territories of Puerto Rico, Guam, American Samoa and many other areas of strategic importance to the NSA. When that changes, you will be notified.

  "At this time, the United States is under Martial Law as ordered by sitting President, Adam Lowry. State and local governments are now subject to the oversight of the Federal Government and will operate solely at its discretion. All currency has been suspended. Trade of real goods in designated places may continue during the hours of 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. or as directed by local regulations. You must return to and remain in your homes all other hours. No exceptions. When that changes, you will be notified by this station.