Flashpoint Box Set, Vol. 1 | Books 1-3

by Ellis, Tara

  “Are you okay?” Caleb rose and made his way to where Patty was leaning against the table. “We should go home.”

  Patty gently shrugged away from the arm he was trying to put around her shoulders and turned instead towards the whiteboard stationed at the back of room. “In a minute.”

  Walking on legs that felt like lead weights, Patty forced herself to go pick up a red marker and face the board. She rubbed at the numbers with the palm of her hand and then changed the population of Mercy from 655 to 652.

  Chapter 8

  GENERAL MONTGOMERY

  USNORTHCOM, Colorado Springs, Colorado

  Deep inside the Cheyenne Mountain Complex

  Four-star USAF General Andrew Montgomery sat staring at the latest communication reports from his executive assistant. It wasn’t anything good. The crease between his brows deepened, eliciting the iconic expression that caused fear in most of his staff. Grunting, he stood slowly, and tugging at his uniform jacket, approached what he was coming to think of as “the wall”.

  A monstrous three-by-six-foot map of the world was hung front and center in the command room, per his instructions. It had taken two days to track down the large, color-coded tacks he’d requested and listening to Colonel Walsh, he made it sound as if he’d risked his life for it.

  “Sir,” Colonel Walsh began with some trepidation.

  General Montgomery paused with his hand mid-air, and turned to look at his executive assistant. “What is it, Kelly?” He was the only member of his staff whom he ever dropped the formalities with. The younger man was one of a handful who didn’t buckle under the general’s iron will.

  Kelly looked down at his feet. “Still no further contact with the White House. It’s been two days now, sir.” He gestured at the green tack marking Washington, DC. “It’s time.”

  The general knew he wasn’t only referring to the color-coding. As he exchanged the green for a red pin, the ventilation system kicked on, echoing deep within the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain.

  Five days earlier, he’d been in a meeting at Peterson Air Force Base when the gamma-ray burst hit. His office was a room full of windows with mountain views and plenty of fresh air. Now, he’d never know it was ten at night, if not for the ticking of the clock on the wall. He tugged at his collar. The general had never considered himself claustrophobic, but having two thousand feet of granite looming over your head can change a man.

  Peterson Base had some very limited shielding against the EMP, so they were able to establish a line of communication with enough resources the first day to determine what the event was, and that compelled them to evacuate NORAD and USNORTHCOM to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, ten miles away. Up until then, it had been on a warm stand-by, although over the past few years hundreds of millions had been spent to move their communication equipment to the mountain bunker due to it being completely shielded against any electromagnetic pulse.

  USNORTHCOM was a joint command, and while General Montgomery was the commander, he knew the other joint staff weren’t all going to agree with his next move, especially Deputy Commander Vice Admiral Welling. However, the reason he’d been put in charge was because those in power knew he’d be able to make the types of decisions others couldn’t.

  General Montgomery cleared his throat. “Issue a general statement announcing the confirmation of the death of our President, Vice President, Speaker of the House, President Pro Tempore, Secretary of the State, Secretary of the Treasury, Secretary of Defense, and the Attorney General.” He turned then to look at Colonel Kelly Walsh. “Etcetera, etcetera for the cabinet. You know the rest of the names.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then make it known that I recognize that with the leaders of the civilian government either dead or missing, I am the highest-ranking military officer known to be alive. Therefore, I hereby declare martial law, and take governing control of the US military and the remaining citizens of the United States of America.”

  Colonel Walsh wrung his hands nervously. He’d effectively just become the executive assistant to the president. “I’ll have the statement issued immediately.”

  General Montgomery turned back to his map. A swath of black made a wide, diagonal trail northeast across it, marking the military bases that never made contact. To either side of that were bands of red, highlighting either bases or other points of communication in the initial days that had since gone silent after reports of radiation sickness. In only five days, different zones were becoming clearly defined and the small amount of land unaffected was terrifying.

  Essentially, the northwest portion of the United States, Alaska, most of Canada, Australia, and Greenland were spared. But that only related to the immediate effects of the gamma-ray burst. In the coming days and months, there would be many other hardships to conquer.

  The general’s hand hovered over a black pin on the Greek island of Crete. His son was stationed there at Souda Bay, along with his daughter-in-law and two grandchildren. He would never see them again.

  “Once the statement is released, I’m naming you the Director of FEMA,” Andrew stated with his back still facing his assistant and friend. He knew Kelly would balk against the assignment.

  “You can’t be serious!” Kelly moved up alongside the general so he’d be forced to look at him. “With everything we have yet to get done here? You want me out running around setting up camps?”

  General Montgomery thumbed through the papers in his hand until he found the one he wanted. Holding it out to Kelly, he raised his eyebrows. “Out of ten FEMA offices, only three are operational. Region Eight is less than seventy miles from here in Denver. I’ll authorize you to use our one working helo to fly there. One week, Kelly.” He leaned toward the shorter man for emphasis, his large trim frame hovering inches from him. “By the time you start organizing it will be one week without any intervention on the state or federal level. The FEMA state caches must be accessed and deployed, and I need boots on the ground. I’m counting on you to make this happen.”

  He turned and opened his arms to encompass the world map. “Millions are dead. Hundreds of millions, probably billions by the time this settles. We’re looking at around twenty-five percent of our country that’s still able to function at some level. If we don’t intervene and provide for these survivor’s basic needs, this could very well be an extinction level event.”

  “I’m going to need help with the logistics,” Kelly admitted. “While we have a couple of armored vehicles that survived the burst, those aren’t going to be of any use beyond our immediate vicinity. Same goes for the helicopter.”

  General Montgomery sighed. “Come on, Colonel. You don’t need me to hold your hand. Coordinate with the other bases and compile a list of your assets and where they are. Include all state and National Guard. Work the problem.”

  “Right,” Kelly replied. He’d worked with General Andrew Montgomery for over a decade and knew when to simply accept an order. “I included our latest supply numbers in your report. Sorry I got it to you so late, but there was a lot going on today.”

  Andrew looked down at the papers and again flipped through them. After a moment he looked up, his brows drawn together. “These look great. Over four million gallons of spring-fed water in reserve, and enough diesel and self-charging batteries to power a city twice our size.” The Cheyenne complex was comprised of fifteen three-story buildings taking up five acres under the granite mountain, so that was saying a lot. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a reason you took the time to point this out?”

  Kelly sat down at the large glossy table in the middle of the room and looked up at the general with an apprehensive expression. “There have been several more requests by mountain personnel to allow their family members inside.”

  “You know that isn’t going to happen. Peterson Air Force Base is more than sufficient to accommodate any enlisted families seeking refuge.”

  Kelly leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and simply stared at
the general. Andrew knew it was a practiced gesture and was meant to be submissive, but for some reason it caused him further agitation. “What?” he demanded. “What do you expect me to say? You know the regulations as well as I do. The mountain is closed. No one leaves unless under direct order, and no one enters, especially not family members!”

  “Peterson is being overrun,” Kelly pushed. “Colorado Springs is in shambles so people are evacuating and the remaining military personnel at the base can’t keep people out without shooting them.”

  “So, they should shoot them.” Andrew closed his eyes as soon as he said it, knowing what the rebuttal would be.

  “General, we’re talking about women and children. Civilians only looking for drinkable water and shelter.”

  “Right.” The general pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath. Kelly was his friend, but he still needed to be mindful of what he said. “Cheyenne Mountain and this command isn’t about a limited amount of military personnel and their families surviving. It’s about coordinating the rescue and survival of the rest of our country, and we can’t allow anything to undermine that mission.”

  “Like a mutiny.”

  Andrew’s head snapped up at that and he stared hard at Kelly. He took a measured step toward him. “You’d better explain that statement very carefully.”

  Kelly licked his lips. “You’ve got nearly seven hundred soldiers under this mountain, locked away from their families while the world around them crumbles. Meanwhile, they see a facility capable of housing three times as many people, with enough resources to support them indefinitely. You need to remember that most of the personnel down here were never stationed at the mountain. They haven’t been through the lockdown drills. They aren’t mentally prepared for this. When their loved ones show up at the gate begging to be let inside only to be turned away, you can’t be surprised to hear talk about them threatening to walk away from their commands.”

  “That’s treason,” Andrew said quietly while looking again at the black pin on the wall.

  “It’s a reality.” Kelly reached out and took the list of FEMA offices from his commander. “We need to give them something, sir. Without hope, they don’t have a reason to care, or to stay.”

  General Montgomery weighed his options carefully. If he took action now it would be of his own accord, rather than under duress. He could also set a strict precedent. “Perhaps you’re right, Colonel. Go ahead and set up one of the empty upper levels of building three as a dormitory. Any immediate family member of mountain personnel may be granted access after being cleared personally by you.” He stared evenly at Kelly until the other man looked away. “But let it be known that anyone attempting to leave without proper authorization will be incarcerated.”

  Colonel Walsh stood then and nodded in understanding. “I’ll use the intranet to issue the new orders. Is there anything else?”

  The general gave a curt shake of his head. “No, but be sure to include that as a printed document in the morning briefing.” While the mountain complex was fully shielded and still had a working intranet, it of course had no outside connections or communication other than by radio. Because of this, he was reluctant to even use the old computer system for anything other than its word processor, and felt a need to retrain his staff on doing things the old-fashioned way. That meant hard copies of everything. Outside of the mountain, that was going to be the new reality for the rest of the survivors.

  As the door to the command room closed behind the Colonel, General Montgomery set the days reports back down on his desk and took a deep, slow breath. He was fifty-six years old and had been in the military since he was eighteen. It was the only life he remembered and he believed in the command structure, but he’d never imagined himself in his current position. He didn’t know if he was capable of leading his country out of the current darkness that had been thrust upon it.

  Tapping at the updated list of communications, he noticed a new civilian contact had been added. Smiling, he grabbed a green tack and went back to “the wall”. The only way they were going to endure this was by finding survivors and bringing them all together. By protecting them from themselves. He searched the map for a moment and after locating the small valley deep in Montana, he marked it with the green tack.

  “Hello, Mercy, Montana.”

  Chapter 9

  DANNY

  Near Woodruff, Idaho

  Woodruff wasn’t so much a town as it was a four-way stop with a few buildings lining the road. Though it did have a post office, so it qualified for a name on the map.

  “We should stop,” Sam called back to Danny. “It’s getting too dark to see.”

  Even though they’d left a couple of hours earlier than normal that morning, they still hadn’t gone as far as planned. Danny needed to stop every few miles to rest and finally had to admit halfway through the day that she was struggling. It was going to be another day or two before she regained all of her strength. “Okay,” she agreed, uncharacteristically foregoing a fight.

  Ominous clouds with an orange hue had built up to the south over the early evening hours and were now blotting out the moon. Danny looked up at the dark skies as they pulled to the side of the road. She’d been wishing for a good storm the past few days while baking under the sun, yet the idea of trying to sleep in it wasn’t very appealing.

  “Does the tent have a rainfly?” She asked Sam, dropping her pack on the ground next to her bike. Grace ran in a circle around her, excited to be stopping because it meant food and water. Danny was amazed at the resiliency of the golden retriever.

  “Yup. But maybe we won’t need it.” Sam nodded at the dark buildings a block away. “Maybe we can hole up in one of those.”

  Danny was wary. The last time they’d gone inside a building they’d been shot at. She frowned as she thought about the pharmacy. Sam had managed to find antibiotics and Advil for her, but none of the other meds she’d told him she wanted. Her father had a serious heart condition. She was supposed to bring him his refill during her monthly visit that would normally be that coming weekend. Mercy didn’t have a pharmacy, so unless she managed to get some to him, he’d be in trouble sooner rather than later.

  “Danny?”

  Danny snapped back to the present and blinked at Sam, trying to focus on him in the gathering darkness. She was more exhausted than she realized. “Sorry. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  Lightning cracked across the sky, and instead of the typical white and purple flash, there was an intense orange glow around it. Seconds later, it was followed by ground-shaking thunder.

  “Changed my mind.” Danny grabbed her gear and righted the bike. “Two to check in to the creepy, hopefully abandoned building.” Her joke wasn’t far from the truth, and she eyed the weather-beaten structure with some trepidation.

  It turned out to be an old mechanic shop, and had likely been vacated long before the flash ever happened. Danny didn’t care how decrepit or full of spiderwebs it was. It offered an albeit questionable roof over their heads and an opportunity to sleep without one eye open.

  As Sam began spreading out their tarp to lay the sleeping bags on, Danny heard what sounded like a woman sobbing. Pausing with their one working flashlight in her hand, she tilted her head while motioning for Sam to stop. “Do you hear that?”

  Sam went back to the front door, which was hanging from its rusted hinges. “Yeah, sounds close. Guess we aren’t as alone as we’d hoped.”

  Danny joined him at the opening as another flash of eerie lightning lit up the street. In the brief moment of illumination, she saw that there were several more buildings a block away. There was obvious fire damage, but some were still intact.

  “Please, can you help us?” The voice was coming from a building across the street and sounded like a young woman.

  Danny realized she was still holding the flashlight and the woman must have seen it. She hesitated, and then shame surged through her, causing her chest to ache. She was st
ill a paramedic and firefighter. Less than a week ago she would have never even considered turning away from someone begging for help. She stepped out of the shelter of the building.

  “Danny,” Sam called after her. “Wait. I’ll come with you.”

  Thankful the older man didn’t try to stop her, Danny watched as he went back to get the gun. After riding the bike for miles with it tucked into his pants, Sam had broken down and stowed it in the backpack. They’d decided that either finding or making some sort of holster for it was a top priority.

  “Hello?” Danny called once they walked together out into the street.

  “Yes! Over here!” A woman moved out into the road, waving her arms.

  Before Danny could assess the situation, Grace raced forward and then past the woman without slowing. Barking once, she ran in a circle around a wagon on the sidewalk before whimpering and lying down next to it.

  Approaching the woman, Danny shone her light on the building and exposed an open, oversized garage door. Inside was a small fire truck, its side panels all open and the contents strewn across the floor. Lowering the light to where Grace lay, she saw a green plastic wagon, and inside was a small boy of about seven years of age. He was conscious, but pale and sweaty. His right leg was propped up on a pillow.

  “We live just outside of town,” the woman explained. “Jerimiah fell off the roof. I told him not to do it, but he climbed out his second-story window to try and pick some apples from the top of the tree.”

  Danny offered a small smile to the mom before approaching the wagon. He was wearing shorts and so it was obvious that his right thigh was swollen. Kneeling down, she placed a hand first on top of his bare right foot and then the left. “He has decreased pedal pulses in his right leg,” she stated. “When did this happen?”