Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 3): Escape and Evade

by Wohlrab, Jeff

  Jensen’s body was tense, and he was breathing heavily. It wasn’t exertion, it was stress and the knowledge he could be dead at any second. He put one tire off on the shoulder and almost lost control as the mighty vehicle shimmied just a little bit, with more grip on the asphalt side than on the narrow shoulder. He resisted the urge to correct sharply and eased up on the accelerator until he could regain his position on the roadway.

  He looked at the steep drop below. He’d almost done the work of the senator for him. Jensen forced himself to take a deep breath. His shoulders were tight, his back hurt, and he was sweating, even though the cooling system in the armored vehicle was keeping the temperature at a comfortable level.

  The sharp incline of both mountains meant that although he’d been driving for several minutes, he was once again almost level with their original campsite. He was still well within the initial explosion area, never mind the blast wave that would follow. Either would kill him at this distance. It felt like the seconds were minutes as he drove as quickly as he dared up the winding mountain road.

  His fear only grew as the road straightened out at the top. He could see high ridges to his north and south. He was driving down the center of a funnel. Jensen caught himself looking up through his cockpit window toward the sky, looking for a winged outline in the early morning light. If he saw one, it would mean their gambit had failed. If he didn’t see one, it could just mean it was too high or behind him. The stress was eating at his nerve ends.

  As each moment passed, Jensen started to get more and more nervous. He thought he was far enough away now he might survive, which was more than he’d expected. He was starting to wonder if the operator had diverted from the mountaintop toward Clayton. If that was the case, he was driving straight toward his own death.

  He couldn’t see anyone else from his group ahead. In fact, he hadn’t seen them at all since they started down the mountainside. The lighter vehicles were far faster and nimbler than his armored vehicle. Jensen was in the middle of that thought when the sky lit up again. This time it seemed to burn his retinas, even though he was facing away from this blast.

  His nervousness subsided as he felt the shudder of his tub leave the roadway and crash gently into the dirt as it bled off speed. Jensen blinked several times automatically, as if he expected his vision to clear, but he could only see vague blotches of blurry color. Even with his eyes closed, his brain told him he was looking at a bright white light. It wasn’t real, he was just flash blind.

  It was like staring straight into a flash as someone took a picture of you in the dark. If he’d been driving the other way, toward the explosion, he could be permanently blind. As it was, he could sense some semblance of color and shape even now as the tub settled on the side of the road, brushing up against the earthen wall to his right.

  The calm felt strange. Jensen’s body was still wet with the cold sweat from trying to get away from their camp, but his body had relaxed. It was like being in an artillery attack. There was nothing you could do but wait it out and hope. If you were going to die, you were going to die.

  It seemed to take several seconds before a distant rumble started to grow from behind him. Jensen fumbled for his safety harness and pulled it tight, using only touch since he couldn’t see well enough to find the loose ends of the belt by sight. His hands were still clutching the straps when the rear of the tub lifted slightly into the air and the thunder of snapping trees around him filled his ears.

  Jensen’s senses were overwhelmed. He could feel the armored vehicle shudder around him, but it felt distant. He just couldn’t process all the information. With his sight diminished and the roaring of the wind and broken trees around him, he was only able to grip the ends of the tightening straps on his harness and hope to ride out the storm.

  Chapter 4

  Bob Snead—Bobby to his friends—sat in a comfortable leather chair in his bunker near Andersonville and watched his monitors as the last of the insurgents with knowledge of his crimes winked out of existence in a nuclear explosion. He should have eliminated that college months ago, but he’d been too busy. Now he’d had to waste two of his nuclear bombs to destroy the evidence of the origins of his virus and to kill the small band of survivors who had apparently uncovered it. He didn’t have many, and they might be necessary for the coming war.

  He sighed heavily as he reflected on the blasts. Maybe he should have used conventional weapons. He had a house on Lake Burton. The Senator really hoped the fallout moved to the east, over South Carolina, and didn’t impact his mansion on the lake. It had cost him just over $5 million, more than he’d spent to buy the land at the former Andersonville Prison in western Georgia. As always, location, location, location.

  The land around him had once belonged to a mineral company before he’d purchased it a few years before and started upgrading. One of the upgrades was a war room in an underground bunker. The Senator was particularly pleased with this room. He was alone at the moment, but it was capable of holding up to 40 people and had some of the most high-tech equipment in the world. On the monitors in front of him were a pair of mushroom clouds about 200 miles away. The real-time video was streaming from the Peregrine drone through satellites in geosynchronous orbit above the eastern United States.

  One rose over the former site of North Georgia Technical College near Clarkesville, the other above the mountains east of Clayton. That was on federal property, but it would be reclaimed by Georgia in the coming months. In his mind, there could be no such thing as federal property outside of Washington, D.C.

  Well, what used to be D.C. Now the city was nothing more than a smoldering ruin, courtesy of the fine leader of Russia, who had responded just as Bobby had anticipated when he sent nuclear-tipped ballistic missiles into the heart of Moscow, along with hundreds of other sites throughout Russia and China.

  The federal government had claimed almost a million acres of Georgia land for national parks and forests. In fact, he was only a few hundred yards from one such site, the Andersonville National Historic Site. He already had bulldozers destroying the heritage site and prepping it for new construction. That site would become part of his base of operations.

  The gaunt-faced Senator pushed back in his chair and watched with satisfaction. The view of the mushroom clouds from the Peregrine’s cameras slowly receded into the distance as the bird returned to Robins Air Force base. He rubbed his hands over his clean-shaven face. He regretted dropping nukes on his own state, but keeping knowledge of the origins of the Mallon Virus secret was far more important than some mostly empty acres out in northern Georgia.

  Bobby, a nickname he’d chosen for himself to draw a connection with the legendary Bobby Jones, a hero in his home state, hated the name the press had given to his virus. He had lovingly called it the Toombs Virus after a southern leader who demanded secession from the Union. Naming his elegant virus after a servant, a cook, was irritating.

  The virus itself wasn’t just one virus, but a combination of viruses given in one dose. After failing many times to create a single super virus, Bobby had stumbled upon the idea of combining several, and used the CDC to distribute his weapon.

  In addition to a cocktail of live avian and swine flu viruses, the Senator had utilized a specialized strain of hantavirus known to cause Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome, which causes the victims’ lungs to fill up with water and weakens the heart. In a person already weakened by other deadly viruses, it was extremely effective in causing death.

  One of the most common treatments in hospitals is to provide fluids to patients through intravenous means. The additional liquid combined with the HPS, led to even more fluid buildup in the lungs and effectively suffocated the patient, even using mechanical ventilation. Many of those who didn’t die from liquid in their lungs expired due to heart failure.

  In his trial runs at North Georgia Technical College, Bobby had an almost perfect 98% death rate from the virus. The other 2% were killed by other means. That success rate f
ell off precipitously once it was introduced into the wild, with only about 70% of the victims dying from the virus cocktail. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was enough. Not bad for a lawyer.

  Senator Snead grew up near Kennesaw Mountain, Georgia, on the outskirts of Atlanta. He devoured history on the Civil War battles which occurred near his birthplace, and along with many residents of the local area, grew embittered about the war of northern aggression and Sherman’s wanton destruction of his home state.

  Bob, as he was known at the time, found inspiration in the struggle of the Confederate generals against the domineering northern politicians intent on destroying the history of his land. Names like Toombs, Evans, Colquitt, and Gordon were as familiar to him as those of his few friends. Bob Snead grew more and more convinced that only the failure of the Virginia generals, like Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, had cost his state its freedom.

  It was a freedom he was intent on making a reality. Bobby left the screens on as he quietly left the room for a bottle of sparkling water. The evidence of his transgressions was gone. Now he would begin rebuilding.

  Chapter 5

  Daniel peered past his knees at his bare feet, trying to reason out why he wasn’t wearing his boots and why he was stuck in some little clown car which was far too small for his bulk. The car wasn’t moving. To his left was Jessica, who was rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. Daniel looked behind him, to where Marcy was looking dazed in the back seat.

  For some reason, Daniel felt like he should be wet. Like he’d just been in a hurricane. Around him, he could see trees snapped apart and lying on the ground. He looked for puddles on the ground, but there weren’t any. That didn’t make sense. Hurricanes were wet. There was rain. Everything felt surreal.

  And he wasn’t wearing boots. WTF?

  Daniel wiggled his toes, just to make sure. Yup, he could see his toes. They were moving. He shouldn’t be able to see them. They should be in boots. Where the hell were his boots?

  “Jess … where are my boots?”

  She stopped rubbing her eyes for a second and looked at him. “First off, you are a serious pain in the ass. Secondly, they’re in the back seat.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder to indicate their position. “And third, we just got nuked and you’re worried about your boots?”

  That stunned the big man. “Nuked? Then how are we alive?” He paused for a moment. “Are we alive?” For a second, he was worried he’d be condemned to wander barefoot forever. Don’t ghosts always wear what they were wearing when they died?

  Jessica sighed in frustration. “Yes, we’re alive. I’m only going to let you stay that way right now because you took a pretty bad knock on the head.” She indicated the back seat again. “Now put on your socks and boots, because we’re going to be doing a lot of walking.” She slammed her hand into the steering wheel. “That nuke nuked our car.”

  Daniel giggled just a little bit. “The nuke nuked our car?” His brain was still scrambled, but he knew deep down that was funny.

  Jessica didn’t think so. “Boots. Now.”

  Jessica turned to Marcy in the back seat. “Think you can walk, hon?”

  From behind him, Daniel heard Marcy answer weakly “I don’t think I have a choice. I can walk.” After a short pause. “That EMP must have been something fierce to kill all the electronics. I thought these new cars had some sort of shielding?”

  The driver grunted. “That’s what I thought, too. At least you’re coherent. Maybe you could pound some sense into that boyfriend of yours.” She opened the door and threw one foot out onto the pavement, half expecting the air to be warm from the blast.

  She still heard the reply. “Sure, do you want me to sprout wings and fly away, too?”

  That brought another giggle from Daniel as he pictured Marcy with wings. “You probably could; you’re an angel.”

  Marcy reached a hand out and put it on his shoulder. “You really did hit your head pretty hard, didn’t you?”

  Daniel reached up and felt around his head. He could feel a sizable bump and a little bit of dried blood. “I think I did. My head hurts like hell and I’ve got a big bump right here.” He indicated the back side of his head. “Luckily I’ve got this half ‘fro as a cushion. Get it? Half ‘fro? It’s like an afro, but short.”

  Marcy squeezed the hand on his shoulder. “You’re lucky you’re hot, because that was one of the worst jokes I’ve ever heard. Now let’s get out of this car. I’m pretty cramped back here.” At 6’1”, Marcy was on the taller side, and the little electric car had been made for efficiency, not back seat space.

  She threw a pair of socks and boots into the front seat. “And put those on. I don’t need you getting a splinter trying to walk around barefoot and make more bad jokes. I don’t think I can take it right now.”

  Daniel unfolded the socks and attempted to reach down to his bare feet. When his head hit the dashboard, he winced in pain. Realizing he couldn’t don his footwear inside the car, he opened the door and swung his legs out, reeling slightly as he tried to find his balance.

  A sudden wave of nausea threatened to overcome him. He put his head down a little bit and fought back, narrowly averting a bout of vomiting. Jessica, who had already gotten out of the car, came around to the passenger side and held his hands. “Daniel, take it slow. You’re pretty beat up.”

  He took a couple of deep breaths and replied, “Holy shit. I feel like I just got nuked.” He giggled again for about half a second and then turned his head to throw up on the center console. Daniel pulled one of his hands away from Jessica to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not even a joke. I feel like a bag of boiled dicks right now.”

  Jessica looked at him with concern before turning her eyes to the west. “We came really close to getting boiled, bro. Really close.” Her eyes lingered on the mushroom cloud above them, which was way too close for comfort. “A couple more minutes and we’d have been toast.” Her eyes lowered to the roadway to see Brent walking toward them carrying a rifle and boxes of ammunition.

  “Brent!”

  The older man looked weary, “Hey Jess.” He reached the back of the dead car and looked at Daniel with concern. “How are you doing, buddy?”

  Daniel looked ashamed. “I threw up.”

  Jess broke in, “He’s got a pretty bad concussion. Vertigo, nausea—his pupils are still fucked up—and he’s making really bad jokes.”

  Brent leaned in closer and put his hands on the sides of Daniel’s head to turn it. He carefully looked at his eyes and ears. “No fluids, so that’s a good sign.” He carefully probed the top and sides of Daniel’s head. “That’s a pretty big lump up there. I hope there’s no fracture.” The older man looked into Daniel’s eyes. “What do you remember?”

  Daniel looked confused for a moment. “We were fighting at the cabin. At least I think we were fighting. Then everything exploded and I was here.” He looked around at the shattered trees. “How did we get here? Where is here?”

  Marcy, who had moved to lean on the front quarter panel, interjected, “That’s a good question. How did we get here? We were fighting those men and then we were in a car.” She looked back in the direction they’d come from, “And I assume that mushroom cloud is the cabin?”

  From behind her, she heard a strange voice. “Yeah, that’s where the cabin used to be.” Marcy turned quickly, startled. She saw two strange men carefully navigating their way through tree branches. One was tall and heavily muscled, the other was short and thin. She reached for her pistol and put a hand on it but didn’t draw.

  Noting her startled reaction, the shorter man stopped and held up his hands. “Whoa now, we’re on your side. Jensen asked us to meet him on the east side of Clayton.”

  Daniel looked up at Jessica. “Where is Jensen?”

  Chapter 6

  At that moment, Jensen was futilely trying to push open the side hatch on the commander’s side of his titanium tub. After trying for several minutes to start up any of the ele
ctronics to reverse away from the tree, he had chosen instead to try getting his hatch open. It was easier said than done.

  The hatch on the scout side of the vehicle would only open a couple of inches before hitting the earthen bank of the mountain. Above, a tree had fallen on the main part of the cockpit, which normally opened upward. Branches from the same tree blocked his side hatch from swinging open more than six inches. Even though he could partially open both side hatches, he couldn’t swing either of them wide enough to fit through the gap.

  Jensen stopped pushing at the hatch to size up his situation and catch his breath. The laminated windows allowed him to see the size of the tree he was up against. It was huge and covered the lower part of the canopy. There was no way he was going to lift it. To his left, a branch the size of his thigh prevented his side hatch from swinging open.

  The windows themselves were heavily laminated and protected. He couldn’t penetrate them with the little 5.56 rounds he carried with him. Bulletproof works both ways. He had nothing capable of damaging the titanium skin of the tub, so trying to cut his way out was out of the question. The only possibility of escaping from what could become his tomb would be to try to remove dirt from the embankment to allow that door to open further.

  And that might be impossible. Jensen could barely get his hand through the narrow gap. He was in a horrible position, with his knees on the scout seat and his hand uncomfortably stuck through the hatch. It only took a few minutes before his lower back was burning from the awkward position. In those minutes, he was successful in removing only a few handfuls of dirt from the embankment.

  There had to be a better way. Jensen shifted in the seat until he was sitting down and looked around him. He couldn’t see anything in the way of tools which could help. He considered trying to use Daniel’s rifle to chip away at the dirt, but it would be too unwieldy with just one hand.