Ring of Fire

by David Agranoff

  This would go down as the worst wildfire in history, leaving behind a path of destruction and a death toll this soil had never witnessed. The pundits would debate how this could happen in modern America. California’s Katrina, the public would demand answers. The truth would remain hidden in the ashes. The fire would cleanse the disease and the rest of the world would move on.

  Two helicopters had set down. The general watched them land. He would only put them in the air in case of extreme need. LT. Montgomery, his longtime pilot, came out of the haze. A marine aviator who had flown him into war zones. Their partnership crossed battle lines and bar tabs across the globe since 9/11.

  “What a clusterfuck, General.”

  Redcrow pointed to his trailer. They walked inside. The control center was not the hub of activity it had been. His staff mostly watched in stunned silence. Halford, the Hot Shots Director was on a headset at a laptop. The only one who still seemed to be working. Redcrow slowed his pace as he passed her spot. She had a map up and was switching from screen to screen, quickly doing some kind of work. It worried him that she had not accepted the fire as unstoppable.

  Montgomery stood in the doorway to his office. “You coming?”

  Redcrow waited until Annie turned and saw him. He wanted her to know that he was watching her. She turned quickly back to her screen. She saw him. The message sent.

  Once they were both in the office Redcrow sat down. Montgomery went to the cabinet where the liquor was stashed. He picked up the shot glass that Halford used and gave it a smell. He poured himself a drink. It went down quickly and he poured another. Redcrow watched the screen on his laptop. An aerial shot of Mission Bay was on the screen with a couple dozen burning boats floating in the water.

  “Danny, our boys are starting to talk.” Montgomery lowered his voice. “Why are we sitting on our hands?”

  “This fire is more powerful than we expected. The fire that is what you wanted to talk to me about? The fucking fire?”

  Montgomery smiled and shook his head. “What the hell happened to those people? The ferals?”

  “Off the record?”

  “What does that mean, Danny? I just helped lay down fire on an American harbor.”

  “I gave that order.”

  “You did, and I want to know why the fuck we have open fire orders in an American city. A lot of innocent people have died tonight...”

  “No one who can spread the infection is innocent.”

  Montgomery didn’t say anything just stared at his old friend. “These are Americans, Danny. This is different.”

  Redcrow felt the pressure from his dying lungs. He cleared his throat. “Let me explain this one time, Monte. We have three hundred million Americans to protect, and that is real un-fucking fortunate for the people of this city.”

  “They’re sick, there has to be something we can do for them.”

  Redcrow raised an eyebrow. “If we could cure the ferals we would. There is no going back.”

  ***

  “What the fucking hell!” Jake put his hands over his face and felt blood. He didn’t think it was his.

  “Dad!” Damian yelled, reached out from the back seat of the minivan for him. Jake sat up and looked out the window of the speeding van. He couldn’t see anything but smoke. Victoria climbed across the seat toward him. Scott had to lean back in the second captain’s chair. Andrew drove and Jake looked to the three children in the back seat. The glass of the back window was slightly spider-webbed.

  “What happened, baby?” Victoria whispered.

  “They’re dead.”

  “Who’s dead? The Johnstons?”

  Jake felt tears well up. The sight of his murdered neighbors flashed in his memory. “He killed ‘em. Bryan killed his own fucking kids.”

  Victoria’s eyes darted to the children and she shushed her husband. It was too late.

  Adam and Damian were already in tears. Tiffany stared at them in shock. Jake wished he could pull the words back but he couldn’t think straight. He turned his eyes to his brother. They had not been friends since Scott quit the football team and left state. They had been in the same room but had not spoken. Not since Scott tried to kiss his then girlfriend, Victoria.

  Scott met Victoria first, fell in love with her instantly, but it happened during a road game to play Boise State that Jake was not healthy enough to go on. Sprained MCL, told to stay off his feet. A senior in communications came to do a story on the injured players for the university website. Jake knew his brother liked Vic, but also understood that she had shown no signs of liking him. Scott never let it go. More than once accused his brother of only dating Vic to piss him off. It was childish, they both knew, but for so long now Scott held a grudge. The thought of it brought the anger back to the surface.

  Victoria leaned off the edge of the seat. Jake leaned back against the window across the seat. “What the hell are you doing here Scott?”

  “I’m here to fight the fire, or I was supposed to be.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you are here.” Jake pointed down.

  “Things are really bad out there. I just thought I could help.”

  “Help?” Jake said it with venom.

  Victoria grabbed and squeezed his hand. “It’s OK.”

  The van stopped. Andrew cut the lights and shifted into reverse. “Checkpoint.”

  Scott jumped up to the front seat and finally holstered his pistol. “We have to go to the bay. We can grab Uncle Mike’s tug and head out to—”

  “We have a plan.”

  Andrew turned the van onto the road that cut into a canyon towards downtown. They were about to backtrack their path towards the station. Once they were turned away from the checkpoint he flipped the lights back on.

  “Hi, Uncle Scott,” Tiffany said meekly from the back seat. Jake wasn’t sure if Tiffany had ever met him but she had asked about him before. Victoria moved over to her own seat. She grabbed wet wipes from the back of the driver’s seat and wiped the blood off her husband’s face.

  “Honey, why don’t you tell us what your plan is?”

  Jake and Victoria stared each other down. She was frustrated at him.

  “We’re going to take Sky 7 and get away from the fire.”

  Victoria didn’t hide her shock.

  “Look,” he said, knowing that his wife hated when he told her to look. “The bay sounds like a war zone. The roads are closed. It is the only option. ”

  “You have a pilot?” asked Scott.

  “That would be me,” Andrew patted his chest.

  “I’m not getting in that helicopter.” Victoria looked at Scott. “If we take your uncle’s boat. . .”

  Jake felt the anger boiling over. “We have reporters that have seen the military gunning people down. People are going crazy, almost rabid.”

  Scott looked at Victoria, not him. “Trust me, I was with my crew at the base camp. There is no cure. If we can escape we need to do it.”

  Scott was his older brother, Jake looked up to him, followed him into football and to play at state. It always made him angry that Scott couldn’t accept what happened. That he couldn’t ever be happy for him. That he ran away.

  “We don’t need you,” Jake said as bluntly as he could. Scott turned in the seat to look at him. They shared an angry look. The tension was thick enough to be cut by knife, but it was the voice of a child that tore it down.

  “I’m thirsty,” Damian said meekly.

  “There are water bottles in the back,” Jake said and closed his eyes, the stress of everything was rattling his nerves like piano strings holding a note.

  Victoria climbed into the backseat and leaned over to dig through the bags.

  “People are dying out there. Can we just grow up and get along until we get somewhere safe?” Scott whispered.

  “Oh, I need to grow up. That is amazing, just amazing, coming from you.”

  Andrew whistled to get their attention. “Sorry, Jake, but I am inclined to agree with y
our brother.”

  Victoria was still leaned over the backseat digging through bags. “There’s no water back here.”

  Jake shook his head, he waved her back. He took her place on the back bench and leaned over to look in the back. He didn’t have to dig. As soon as he saw the bags in the back he could see the blue duffel bag that he packed the water in was still on the floor in their kitchen. He felt a rush of anger at himself. They didn’t know exactly where they were going and needed water.

  “Jake?”

  His wife saying his name felt like a whip across his back. He fucked up and didn’t know what to say. He just shook his head, keeping his eyes out the back window. Damian leaned up against his father, his forehead against his arm. Jake noticed the sweat right away. He turned and put the back of his hand on Damian’s forehead.

  “You’re burning up.”

  His hair was due for a cut, and now he had a soaked mop. He would have to hydrate. Jake looked at Victoria. They hadn’t notice Damian getting sick in all the madness. She put out her hand, he held it and put his free arm around Damian. Tiffany stared out into the haze. With a few seconds of silence, he could hear gunfire. It was cracking and popping in the distance. A feral scream sounded close by.

  Jake scanned the smoke. There was nothing to see. The ferals could be just few feet away and they wouldn’t know.

  Victoria leaned in and kissed his temple. “We need to get water,” she whispered.

  “I know,” Jake said and tried to think of a way to get some. “I know.”

  ***

  Martin watched the statement spit out of the printer and looked around nervously. He couldn’t let Lewis or Shea see it. The mayor had to tell the world what was happening. Lisa spent the first few minutes balled up in a blanket on his couch. She was so scared that she couldn’t focus. She was convinced she was getting sick. He checked her eyes twice and saw no change. She hadn’t drunk anything besides a morning smoothie and diet coke.

  Once the statement was all out of the printer, he took a second to look at it. A call for help. Telling the world about the checkpoints, the ferals and the shootings around the city. It was amazing to believe in this era that one city could be cut off from the world. He folded the paper and put it in an envelope. He turned to look at the mayor’s door.

  Lisa came out of his office. The tears and exhaustion were all over her face.

  “What should I do?”

  Martin looked at her and whispered. “Help Mitchell get ready for the mayor.”

  “What if he won’t do it? What if he is dead?”

  “He isn’t dead.” Martin acted annoyed, but inside he was just as worried. “Then you better be prepared to read it.”

  Lisa nodded and walked toward the media center where Mitchell was working. Now came the hard part. He walked across the office to the main double doors on the mayor’s personal study. The doors had not opened in an hour, even during the chaos and the shootings of one of his staff. The door stayed closed. He was mad at the mayor but there was no time to be concerned with what had or had not happened.

  Martin knocked softly at first. He understood it was very likely that he couldn’t answer. He thought about the possibilities. Had he killed himself? Had he gotten sick or gone feral? Both could be correct. He knocked harder this time.

  “Mister Mayor. It’s me Martin.”

  He twisted the door handle softly without opening the door. It was unlocked. He could just go in.

  “Mister Mayor, if you don’t answer me I am coming inside.”

  Martin turned the handle, but still resisted opening the door. He pushed it open. The blinds were shut and the lights were off. It was totally dark. Martin heard the sound of whimpering.

  “Go away,” The mayor whispered.

  Martin flicked on the light. The mayor had thrown his tie on the floor and was curled in a ball holding his knees. He turned away from the brightness. Martin pulled the door shut behind him.

  “What are you doing?”

  The mayor didn’t answer, just sat frozen in terror and guilt.

  “Mister Mayor. . .”

  “Don’t call me that! Get out!”

  Martin felt pretty disgusted, but he only knew this man as Mister Mayor. So that is what he called him.

  “While you have been in here crying they just shot a member of your staff.”

  A fresh wave tears. He tried to look away.

  “They’re carpet bombing our harbor, didn’t you hear it?”

  “Yes! I heard it.”

  Martin fought the urge to smack this man. “We need your leadership. The power is flickering it could go at any moment.”

  “Were fucked.” The Mayor spit on himself unintentionally. “There is nothing we can do and they won’t let us.”

  “Fuck FEMA, Fuck CDC. We need to get the word out and I have a plan.”

  Through cloudy eyes the Mayor stared at him. Martin had his attention.

  “I have a plan to get the Wi-Fi towers up.” He put the envelope in the mayor’s hands. “Mitchell is ready to go, but I have to engage the mainframe directly at the NBC building.”

  “You can’t go out there.”

  “Believe me, I don’t want to do this.” Martin forced a grin. “When I woke up this morning the only concern I had was my career.”

  Martin handed a tissue to his boss.

  “Look, I’ll do this but you and Mitchell need to be ready. As soon as the signal is up go live on social media if you have to but read that statement. Let the world know what is happening.”

  The mayor looked away then closed his eyes. Martin could tell he was trying to gather himself.

  “I need a minute to clean myself up.”

  “It will take me a few to get across to NBC. Don’t let Lewis or Shea know what you are doing, only talk to Lisa or Mitchell.” Martin gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Thank you, Mister Mayor.”

  Martin was almost at the door.

  “Martin, wait!” The mayor was still on the floor. “I knew a base commander over at Coronado naval. He let slip once that they had pandemic drills they ran for San Diego, and it sounded familiar.”

  “You knew about this, sir?”

  “No,” The Mayor used the table to pull himself up. “It seemed so crazy. Didn’t seem possible.”

  Martin turned the door. “Look, I have some things to pack, I don’t think I’m coming back.”

  The Mayor nodded. “Thank You, Martin. I’m sorry I lost it, but you realize that they’re holding our heads underwater. I’ll send your message but—.”

  Martin put up his hand. “I don’t want to hear—”

  “We’re already dead.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Look, I know playing ads for Mattress Center and Sports Clips during a natural freaking disaster is stupid, but I need to pee and get some new information from my man Big Al who has gone old school and he is using equipment out of date when his parents met in Mexico. Stay tuned.”

  Will pushed the button turning off his microphone. He pushed it away and dropped his headphones. He had to wave his hands. Alex rolled his chair over to the soundboard to play the commercials. He was listening to the other radio on headphones.

  It was a mad dash to the bathroom. Will had been holding it for close to twenty minutes tapping his feet. The smoke filled the windows outside, but he could tell it was dark. It was easy to lose track of time on the air. It was evening. His anger was growing. His desire to shut the station down.

  Alex was going through it too, but they knew they were the only source of news on the air anywhere in the city. His producer seemed to get a second wind from getting information over the old school radio.

  When he stepped in the bathroom, Will stopped at the mirror. He looked ten years older than he did in the morning. This was a marathon. The world was on fire and he had a dead friend in his office down the hall. He didn’t give shit about any of that. He just wanted one fucking signal to get through. One call to hear his girls were oka
y. He knew they were far north, as much as he hated to feel happy about that, it might have saved them.

  After he finished, Will washed his hands and walked into the control booth. Alex had old headphones on that were attached to a massive old radio kit. Following the old adage if it bleeds it leads the 24 hour news partner down the hall used to have a guy they paid to sit and listen to police band on this box.

  “What have you got?”

  “Can’t find military, but police band and first responders. They are freaked out man. Shit is fucked up out there. I took notes for you. 15 seconds.”

  Alex handed Will the notebook paper. Normally he got an e-mail from Alex on his phone with show notes.

  Will backed out of the room. “Your handwriting sucks dude.”

  He stepped into the studio and in a fluid motion had his headphones on and microphone in front of his face. “Welcome, back San Diego, to the former sports leader on your AM dial. We are now the Ministry of Information. Here is the latest.”

  ***

  “Kendra!” Sally called across the news room. Kendra stood over Jeff Gonola’s desk, the blowhard anchor was working on copy in case they got back on the air. Kendra turned to see a very sick Sally use the door to her office door like a crutch.

  “Quick, the radio station has an update!” Kendra and Gonola ran to Sally’s office, they were the healthiest people left in the office. Daphne from weather and Bingham were both at their desks but had already thrown up and shown signs of being sick. Kendra knew how much Sally struggled to call her.

  Sally was already back on the couch at the back of her office when they stepped in. The radio boomed with the voice of Will Goldberg.

  “Welcome back, San Diego to the former sports leader on your AM dial. We are now the minister of information. Here is the latest. Provided by my man Big Al via the pony freaking express and two tin cans on a chord.”

  Kendra sat down at Sally’s desk and turned the volume down a bit. Gonola stood in the door, pad ready to type notes on his iPad.

  “Best we can tell from the reports on the police band is that the fire is not contained at all. Not one inch of this thing is contained.”