by M. D. Massey
2
Missiles
One thing I quickly discovered after coming back from Afghanistan was that living in the sticks did a world of good for my head. Maybe it was the Native American in me that I got from my mom’s side, but I felt closer to God out in nature than I ever did in church. Mom was Catholic and dad was Protestant, so I spent a lot of time at church growing up. Church didn’t stick, but the faith did. Call it superstition, or just wishful thinking, but I’d always felt a deep and abiding Presence in the wilderness that I’d never felt anywhere else. Bottom line was that out in the sticks was the only place I ever really felt at peace. Well, there and hunting terrorists.
I suppose that’s why when I first came home, I spent six months living between my family’s hunting cabin and several primitive camps I’d set up on our ranch in the Texas Hill Country. The land had been in my family for generations, and included several thousand acres along the Frio River north of Leakey, Texas. It was worth a bundle now, what with all the rich folks from Austin and San Antone wanting to come out here and settle, but my dad was stubborn and refused to sell.
Good on him. Besides, he didn’t need the money. Dad had bucked the family tradition of ranching, and instead had gone to school and gotten into insurance. He now owned a thriving insurance agency in a suburb of Austin. This meant I had the ranch and cabin all to myself, and that was how I liked it. My parents respected my need for isolation, so they more or less left me alone out here year round.
Due to the nature therapy more than anything, things had been getting better for me lately. I wasn’t experiencing as much social anxiety anymore, so I’d started taking classes at the university extension down in Uvalde. The plan was to apply to physician’s assistant school once I had all my prerequisites out of the way. I found out back in Afghanistan that I liked saving people a whole lot better than I liked killing them, and figured it was time to do some good in the world for a change.
But even when my brain was healthy, I liked staying out at the ranch. Any time I spent there was a chance to relive some of the best memories of my childhood. When I was a kid, I’d always looked forward to holidays and summers spent visiting my grandparents out there, and weekends spent hunting with my dad and granddad were always a treat. Everything I knew about hunting and stalking game in these hills I’d learned from my grandpa, and it was knowledge that had served me well in the mountains of Kunar and Nuristan many years later.
But despite all the progress I’d made, my run-in with Señor Bath Salts had definitely triggered an episode. So I headed out to one of my more remote camps just as soon as I got home from the sheriff’s office. Sure, the cops had said I needed to stick around, but I interpreted that as meaning “don’t leave the county.” I called my attorney before I went traipsing off into the boonies and told him that I’d be indisposed for a few weeks. He didn’t like it, but agreed to handle things should the cops decide they needed another interview.
Whatever. I’d resigned myself to the fact that what was going to happen would happen, and there was nothing I could do about it. I needed some space and time to clear my head, and that’s what I was going to get. I’d built my destination campsite a few months earlier, way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. I set myself up for an extended stay in the primitive A-frame cabin I had at the site.
But no sooner than I’d gotten settled in, it started raining like the first day of Noah’s forty. I hunkered down in the cabin for the first week and watched it pour, then finally I got bored and decided to hunt for some fresh meat. After a few hours and a good soaking I got lucky and bagged a couple of rabbits that I found hunkered down in a brush pile. But, as luck would have it, I also caught a monumental case of walking pneumonia.
By the next morning I was delirious with fever and way too weak to hike back to the main house on the ranch. I set out some pots and pans to gather rainwater, then I bundled up on my cot and tried not to die from fever and exposure. Besides the occasional trip to the front door of the cabin to piss and retrieve enough water to prevent my imminent demise, I stayed more or less on my back for the better part of two weeks. Probably the only thing that saved me was a stash of antibiotics that I had in my pack, and some expired ibuprofen that I found in my first aid kit. Well, that and the fact that I’m too damned stubborn to die from my own stupidity.
It took me a couple of days after the fever broke to gather enough strength to get up and move around. I soon managed to build a fire and made some broth using the bouillon cubes I always kept in my pack. By the next morning I was back on solid food, and by that evening I was ready to get back to the main cabin for a shower and a good hot meal.
After being out of commission for so long, I decided I’d check in on civilization by tuning into the news on the little emergency weather radio I kept in my pack. It worked on solar power, or I could charge it with a hand crank, and I’d found it to be a handy addition to my typical load out. Besides giving me a way to get weather intel, if I ever got too lonely out in the sticks I could always tune into the nearest country station and get really depressed.
I cranked the handle for about a minute or so and started flipping through the FM stations. All I got was static, so I switched over to the AM dial. It took me a while, but eventually I tuned into a station that broadcast from way out west of us. The signal was weak, but after dialing it in and playing with its antenna, I heard the familiar klaxon that indicated an Emergency Broadcast System test was underway. Annoyed, I turned off the radio and busied myself for a few moments, then I turned it back on, only to hear the same ear-splitting racket. That got me spooked, so I turned it up a notch or two and listened to what followed.
“This is not a test. Repeat, this is not a test. Please listen to the following message in full and follow all instructions carefully. This message will repeat. Again, listen carefully and follow these instructions to ensure the safety of you and those around you.”
At that I turned the volume up as a high as it could go. Within seconds the measured cadence of the president’s voice came loud and clear from the speakers.
“At 1:26 am on October 3rd, the United States suffered a surprise joint nuclear attack carried out by China, Russia, and North Korea that targeted several large metropolitan areas along the eastern and western seaboards, as well as select cities in the midwestern and southern states. These attacks were apparently carried out with the intention of destroying our largest population areas and infrastructure. Missiles carrying nuclear warheads were detonated in air burst attacks, so as to produce the greatest damage to property and people.
“We are not taking this attack lying down. Already, our military has launched precision nuclear counterstrikes against key targets in China, Russia, and North Korea as well as targets in Iran and Syria. We believe we have prevented further attacks from occurring; however, the damage to our nation’s greatest population centers and infrastructure has been severe. We are doing everything we can to restore communications and power across the mainland, as well as to restore communications with Alaska, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico. We are mobilizing the Army National Guard and FEMA to set up relief camps, field medical facilities, and emergency shelters a safe distance from all areas that have been hit the hardest by these attacks.
“Since the missiles were detonated while airborne, fallout has been minimal in the areas surrounding the attacks. Even so, survivors are encouraged to avoid the blast zones and to escape to the nearest relief center as soon as they are physically capable.
“Unfortunately, the worst effects of these attacks will not be limited to the initial death toll that they have inflicted; it is the panic and chaos caused by these attacks that will likely claim the most lives. Do not panic. Food, water, and shelter will be at a premium in areas that have been hit the hardest, so we ask that you band together with your neighbors and share what resources you have for the good of all until help arrives. Again, we are doing everything we can to provide relief and supplies to the areas that have
been affected by these attacks. If you reside in or near one of these areas, please listen to the following message for directions to the nearest emergency relief center for your area. Thank you, and may Allah guide us through this tragedy.”
How in the hell did they let a nuclear freaking war happen? I thought to myself as I listened to the long list of relief centers that had been set up since the attacks. I checked my watch and realized that it had been a full three weeks since the missiles hit. Here I was, stuck out in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, out of my mind with fever while the end of the world as we know it was going down. Who’da thunk it?
As I worked my way mentally through the situation at hand, I made a few assumptions. One, because there were relatively few targets of major military interest in Austin and San Antonio, the damage might not be too severe. Heck, I even hoped for a moment that they might not have been hit at all. But a few minutes later, I heard relief center locations being broadcast for Austin and San Antonio, which blew my hopes clean out of the water. Why anyone would hit those cities out of anything but sheer evil and spite was beyond me. I mean, you truly had to be an evil son of a bitch to bomb millions of people needlessly. Sometimes, I really hated being part of the human race.
Regardless, I figured they’d hit Lackland with a warhead large enough to take out the operations command center there, which would make sense if they were planning to invade the third coast. They’d probably hit Austin for the hell of it, since no major military targets of interest existed in or around the capitol. More than likely Ft. Hood and Ft. Bliss had gotten wiped clean off the map, and Alamogordo was probably toast as well. But if they were aiming for the capitol in Austin and used a smaller nuclear device to take it out, folks five kilometers or so from downtown could have gotten through the blast wave with only minor injuries, which would mostly have been from broken windows and flying debris. So, I was guessing that Mom and Dad were probably fine, but even so they’d need to get the hell out of Dodge fast. As soon as the social structure started breaking down it’d be chaos, and I didn’t want them anywhere near a major metropolitan area once the food riots and pillaging started.
It only took me a half-hour or so to get everything packed and ready, so I sat in the light of the fire I’d stoked up and waited for dawn. As I rested in the near-dark of my campfire, I reflected on how calm I felt. Having a mission and a purpose always seemed to help me keep my shit together back in the ’Stan, and I supposed it should be no different now that I was Stateside. By the time the sun peeked over the hills to the east, I’d already eaten and had a couple of cups of instant coffee in me, and I was good to go. More than good, strangely; I felt fully alive for the first time since coming back home. Chuckling to myself at the irony, I checked the eastern sky for smoke or perhaps the remnants of mushroom clouds, but it was still overcast and I couldn’t see a damned thing.
The wind came from the northwest as it had for weeks, which meant that I’d never been in any danger of fallout radiation exposure. Besides, air bursts were the most effective way to destroy a city, and if the emergency broadcast message was accurate, there’d be little to worry about as far as fallout was concerned. However, that also meant that the detonations would have generated a significant EMP blast, which meant all sophisticated electronics would be fried for quite some distance around the blast areas.
That also meant cell phones would be out of service, although some towers that didn’t sustain damage might reset automatically. Landlines might work, but it was iffy. Power would definitely be a bust in and near the cities. Some automobiles would be fried, what with the modern computer circuitry that most cars relied on these days. The Internet would be a wash as well, as would most mass communications in general. Thankfully I kept a shortwave radio at the cabin, and had a landline hooked up there, too. Hopefully I’d be able to contact my parents via one method or another, if only to find out if they were okay. I’d certainly be in better shape than most to travel and rescue them, since my Toyota ran on pre-80’s tech, and I always kept a spare set of fuses, ignition points, and the like around, along with extra fan belts and other parts I might need in an emergency. So even if it wouldn’t start, I was sure I could get it running in short order.
My plan was to head into town, get those supplies that I’d been planning to pick up the day of the shooting, and then drive in a general northeasterly direction along the back roads to get to my folks. Then I’d bring them back out here, and figure out what to do next once I knew they were safe. Dad was smart; he’d know that he needed to either stay put to avoid radiation fallout or get out as quickly as possible. He’d also know how to secure transportation to get him and Mom out of Dodge. I needed to get in touch with them before I took off, just to make sure they’d stay put until I got there.
I reached the cabin a few hours later. The first thing I did was go out and try to start the Toyota; it started right up with no issues, which somewhat surprised me. EMP was a phenomena that scientists still didn’t have a firm grip on, and I’d read conflicting reports about what could happen after a nuclear attack. Some experts had said the entire grid would go down and all electronics would fail, while others said effects would be localized and civilization could continue.
But even though my truck was working, I wasn’t betting on things being copacetic closer into the cities. I had a sneaking suspicion that my truck was working because it was made in the Stone Age—and besides that, you just couldn’t kill a Hilux. That was why I’d bought it and restored it. I once saw one buried in a high-rise building demolition on television, and it started right up once they dug it out of the rubble. I had my doubts that more modern auto tech would fare so well.
After ensuring that the truck was working, I went inside and tried to call my parents. I got nothing but a busy signal, even after trying for the better part of half an hour. I started gathering up everything I’d need for a rescue mission to north Austin:
Extra gas cans. I snagged two five-gallon jerry cans and threw them in the bed of the truck. They were empty, but I could fill them in town. I also snagged an old garden hose to use for siphoning gas from dead cars and trucks along the way.
Spare parts. I kept spare fuses, points, and so on in the truck. I threw in an extra fan belt for good measure, and beefed up my tool bag with a few extra sockets and wrenches.
Other tools. I figured a hand winch would be a must for clearing stalled vehicles, so I threw my power puller in the back. I also tossed a Fat Max demo tool and my tactical tomahawk behind the seat. Both might come in handy should I have to do some tactical B&E along the way. I also grabbed some bolt cutters for good measure, as they always came in handy. I already had my Bowie knife on my belt and a tactical folder in my pocket—I never went anywhere without a good knife.
Weapons. I grabbed my Glock 21, along with my concealment holster. No reason to draw attention on the road. I replaced my Kahr with the Glock, and took the time to switch out the clip on the Kahr so I could wear it on my left side in an appendix carry. The Glock went on my right hip. I grabbed my range bag with two extra mags for the Kahr and four for the Glock, along with two boxes of .45 JHP. I also snagged my M4A1 with six extra mags and a brick of 500 rounds. I kept a red dot sight on it, but could switch to my ACOG if needed, also packed. I brought along a tactical flashlight and a collapsible bipod for the rifle. The bipod added weight, but I liked the stability for long shots.
Food and shelter. I’d be sheltering in the truck if I had to stop overnight. No way would I leave it to get hot-wired by thieves. I threw my pack in the front seat with all my essentials: sleeping bag, ground mat, portable water filter, water bladder and bottles, iodine tabs, flashlight, and so on. I also threw a 12-pack of bottled water in the floorboard, just for safety’s sake. For food, I grabbed some of the dehydrated meals I typically carried into the sticks, along with some summer sausage and jerky. Thankfully, when you have a thousand acres of land to hunt there’s no waiting for deer season. I always kept some hard candy in t
he glove box, along with some high-energy snack bars. I could eat those if the other stuff ran out. I wasn’t counting on finding a lot of food along the way, because folks would be clearing the stores out in short order. Those who hadn’t prepared were going to be in some deep shit, most assuredly.
Comms. I had a CB in the truck, but fat lot of good it might do me. I’d snag a cell phone and charger off the first dead person I found. I know, it sounds cruel, but experience had taught me that I’d probably come across more than a few before this was over. Like I said, cell towers might come back online, and it’d be worth it to have the cell if that happened.
Despite being prepared as hell for an event like this, I still wanted to stock up on long-term supplies before I took off. Plus, I needed gas for the truck. I didn’t want to hit the supermarket in town due to the crowds. I decided to hit the local Stop N’ Steal for gas and whatever else I could get. I had enough cash on me to clear them out of dry goods, and I also planned to get more bottled water and some OTC drugs. It’d have to do.
I loaded what I was going to take with me into the truck, hid it under a tarp inside the camper shell, and drove off to take care of my last-minute chores before I headed out to Austin.
3
Vacant
As I pulled into the gas station, I immediately noticed things were off. For one, there were no cars lined up waiting to get gas. None. If there was any gas to be had, I’d expected to have to wait in line for a while to get it. To pull up and see that there weren’t any cars lined up at the pumps made me hella nervous. I wondered if they’d already run out and I was just too late, or maybe the power had gone out and the pumps were out of order.