They also knew staying low under cover would make it more difficult to see them. On the west-facing sides of the mountains, many of the trees had survived the blast wave. They would provide shielding from the prying eyes of the drone operators.
“But we’ll move faster along the road. We need to get out of here before they come back,” Marcy pleaded. “If we can get farther away from the blast area, we won’t have as many trees to deal with.” She waved her hand at the fallen trees around them. “If we keep dealing with this shit, we’re sitting ducks.”
Brent held up his hands to ask for quiet. “We need to put some distance between us and our last known location, Jensen’s tank.” Jensen wanted to tell them it wasn’t a tank, but kept his mouth shut. “These downed trees might be helpful to us. At least we know the Senator will have to bomb us or send men on foot if they find us. No vehicles are going to get through this.
“Before I go any further, how many of us have not been unconscious today?” He put one of his hands back up and looked around; only Jessica had hers raised as well. That raised some eyebrows, especially when Rob’s hand stayed down. “We’re hurt, I’m old. We can’t just run out of here and hope we don’t run into another armored vehicle.
“I vote we head east a little bit. I’m pretty sure we’re outside the radiation area. It’s the last place someone is going to look. They’ll focus on possible ways away from the bomb.” He looked around at the bedraggled group. “Because it makes sense.”
Brent pointed back toward where the cabin had been. “If we go that way a little bit, we’re moving in the opposite direction of where we were headed on the road. They’ll expect us to keep moving toward Clayton.” He pointed down at an angle. “If we follow this road down there, and then head north along the west side of that mountain, we should still have the tree cover Jensen and Daniel want.”
Daniel raised his hand like a student in school and held it until Brent nodded at him. “I’m not raising my hand because I wasn’t unconscious, I have a question. You want us to move back toward the melty nuclear explosion that almost killed us, further away from possible food and shelter, because it doesn’t make sense?”
Brent nodded, “That’s what I’m saying.”
Daniel nodded. “I get it.” Then he looked warningly at Brent. “But if we don’t find food. I’m eating you first.” Almost as though Daniel’s acceptance of Brent’s plan was a real decision, the others seemed to acknowledge his idea was as good as any of theirs. Hell, it might buy them some time.
They moved as rapidly as they could down the potholed dirt road, trying to avoid trees and branches where possible. It was only about half a mile to the bottom, but it took them almost thirty minutes to get there. The fallen trees became less numerous at the bottom. It was almost like they had crossed a line from the destruction into pristine forest.
And a road. As they reached the road, they could see it went north further into the mountains and south back toward the highway. They went north. Walking was much easier here. There were some fallen branches, but for the most part the road was clear.
“This is a campground of some sort,” Jessica pointed out. “See the picnic tables?”
Jensen’s stomach growled in response. “I could really go for a picnic right about now. With fried chicken and potato salad.”
Daniel piped up, “Is that fried chicken comment for my benefit? You wanna throw in some greens and cornbread, too?”
Jensen snorted. “Greens and cornbread are not food. Fried chicken is amazing.”
Daniel seemed lost in reflection for a moment. “It must be Sunday.”
It seemed like an off-the-wall comment. Nobody seemed sure how to respond.
Finally, Marcy broke the silence. “Why Sunday?”
He looked surprised. “Because that’s when I want to eat at Chick-Fil-A. Every, fucking, Sunday, my stomach says, ‘How about some of the most delicious fried chicken on the planet, squeezed between some little buns with a pickle and mayo?’” After a few more steps, Daniel said, “Then my brain says, ‘Oh no, it’s Sunday; no Jesus chicken for you.’ And now I want Chick-Fil-A, hence, it must be Sunday.”
There was no rational way to argue that. Nobody had any idea what day of the week it was either, until Rob chimed in. “It’s Thursday. Thursday, May 10th.”
Daniel looked at him, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it was in the mission planning. Definitely Thursday.”
Daniel didn’t look convinced. “I’m pretty sure it’s Sunday. Can’t have delicious Jesus chicken Sunday.” Something about Rob’s comment got Daniel’s mind off on a new tangent. “Where did you come from?”
Rob responded, “Originally? Or yesterday?”
The quick response was, “Yesterday. Where did your team come from?”
Rob looked pained for a moment at the mention of his team. “We drove out last night from our base north of Macon.”
“What’s it like down there? Do you have power?”
“Yeah, we had power. I think just about everything south of Interstate 20 had power, then it was patchy north of that.”
His comment got Jensen’s attention. He’d been through a lot of that area a few months back and hadn’t noticed a lot of electricity being used. “How is that possible? I drove straight through that area earlier this year and there was no power.” He seemed confused. “There’s no way I would have missed it.”
Rob explained. “The Senator. He’s got most of the power back on already along with water, garbage collection, even some television stations. I’ve heard he’s even got a new state capitol building being built down in Americus. I haven’t seen it though, so I’m not sure if that’s true. He’s been taking care of us this entire time. He even got our group vaccinated. Not one of us got sick.”
Daniel tilted his head slightly at that statement, but didn’t say anything.
It was weird to think of a civilized society coming back online just south of them. Northern Georgia had seemed to revert to some sort of early twentieth-century society with no power. It was a shock to think of families watching television and taking hot showers in the southern part of the state.
As they walked along the road next to a stream, questions flew. Are grocery stores open? Is there a lot of crime? Is there government? Rob answered yes to everything except crime. “There’s not much crime. Between the regular police and our units, everything seems to be running pretty well.”
Brent chimed in. “Wait, so there are private police now?”
Rob shook his head, “Not like that. We don’t really enforce the laws. We’re more like security for the ration wagons.”
More voices chimed in excitedly, what the hell was a ration wagon?
“So, there’s a ration system in place. Each family gets so much meat and vegetables, paper products, that sort of thing. We pick it up from distribution facilities and bring it out to some of the more remote places. We give people their food, collect their cards, and give them new cards for the next time.”
As they came upon a clearing, Rob continued. “Everyone gets so much fuel, baby formula, etcetera. Then there’s a secondary trading market after we leave. There are little shops in some places that stock those same goods, and then they trade with folks who, say, don’t like corn and want more peas, or something like that. Or they bring in a butchered pig and trade for paper towels. Money is pretty much worthless right now.”
To their right, across the stream they’d been paralleling, was a small building with what looked like a smokestack sticking out of the side. “We try to trade for bacon whenever we can get it.” As he said those words, Jensen seemed to stiffen slightly. He stopped walking and turned his head sideways.
Jessica stopped as well. “What’s wrong?”
He held up a hand to silence her as the others stopped next to a wooden sign full of park rules and bear warnings. “Helicopter. Do you hear it?” He pointed back down the road. “It’s back by the highway, I think.”
; They listened intently but couldn’t hear the sound of rotors over the sound of the water rushing by to their right.
Then Marcy thought she could hear it too. “Yeah, I hear something.”
They followed as Jensen dashed toward the small building and splashed across the stream. The small building appeared to be made from rock and had a little brown sign on it signifying it could be used by men or women.
Marcy cringed. “We’re going to hide in a bathroom?”
Jensen tried the door. “No, it’s locked.”
Then they could all hear the thunder of an approaching helicopter. They squeezed under the overhang in front of the door as well as they could. It wasn’t made to shelter six people from the prying eyes of a helicopter, just to keep the weather from damaging the facility.
They could feel the pounding of the rotor as the heavy machine thundered overhead and then faded off into the distance. They didn’t know if they’d been seen.
Chapter 16
Doug stood over Nathan’s dead body. His son-in-law had been shot twice in the back and once in the head. The exit wound was through his left eye, the same one Emilee had lost in the accident. On his body was a patch with two red eyes and two fangs, one that matched the patch on Doug’s shoulder.
Nathan had escaped the nuclear blast and then been killed by one of his men. Doug suspected Rob; he was the man who had been on the radio traffic with Nathan when they were sitting in the disabled Canid. He was the one who had reported their targets as American military. It seemed most likely he’d survived with Nathan.
Doug had never particularly liked Rob. He was a smaller man with thin features. He reminded Doug a little bit of a weasel. The only reason he had hired him was the man’s impeccable Special Forces background and his skill with weapons. Rob had won championships with the Army’s top-tier pistol team. He was fast and deadly. But it didn’t take speed to shoot a man in the back.
Ricky’s team had already announced the armored vehicle was clear. It appeared to have been disabled by the EMP from the explosion and pinned under a heavy tree. There were no signs of the occupant.
Doug had the team spread out along the sides of the road and start walking back to the west looking for tracks within twenty feet of the shoulders. The vehicles had been heading for Clayton, away from the blast. They probably continued in that direction, but he wanted to make sure they hadn’t left the road.
Doug returned to the helicopter and got on the radio. “Jim, this is Doug. I want you to bring the bird around and cover the road from my position all the way to Clayton. Look for any activity that could be survivors from the blast. They’ll be on foot.” He waited for a response, then put the handset back.
As he left the motionless King Stallion, which his pilot had somehow managed to land in the tiny area, he pulled a body bag from the rear cabin. For Nathan. He was returning to the helicopter when he heard a call come over the radio. “Doug? Ricky. We’ve got tracks.”
Doug gently laid the body down in the rear cabin, and hurried to the cockpit where the pilot handed him the microphone. “Ricky. Doug here. Can you repeat last?”
There were several seconds of open air before Rickey responded. “Hey boss, we’ve got tracks off the road heading north along a stream. They’re fresh. No more than a couple hours old.”
“Copy that. Return to the helo. Break. Don? Doug. Bring your team back to the helo.”
Don, the second team leader, responded almost instantaneously. “Copy that. Returning to helo. ETA fifteen minutes.”
Then Doug switched frequencies and made another call. “Jim? Doug. Belay my last. I need the bird up over the mountain north of my position. Follow the stream north from the scout vehicle and find them.”
By the time the teams had returned to the helicopter, Jim had found their targets. “Doug, it’s Jim. I’ve got six targets on foot. They hit a road up the mountain and turned back east. Now they’re moving north along another road. How copy?”
His rage had been replaced by calm. Jim had eyes on his targets. Now what to do? While he thought, he looked at the pilot and put his hand in the air, whirling it to let him know he wanted the rotors started up again.
His original mission was no longer valid. He wasn’t working for Snead anymore. Doug wasn’t about to exterminate a group of Americans based on that snake’s orders. Fuck Snead. He just wanted whoever had killed Nathan, and then he was going home.
With the rotors spun up, the sound was deafening. Doug pulled on the headphones and spoke into his microphone. “Gentlemen. We have six targets heading north on foot along a road northeast of our position. One of them shot Nathan in the back.” Eyes turned to the motionless body bag on the floor. “The shooter is our target.”
Doug wasn’t sure if those six were all members of the original team, all survivors from the cabin, or some strange mixture. Jim couldn’t identify them with certainty using the drone’s cameras. He was going to have to get closer.
“This is a CSAR mission now.” The CEO of Vampiregruppe was referring to a Combat Search and Rescue mission. He intended to extract any of his surviving men. He didn’t care what happened to the others. He also had one target. Nathan’s killer.
On the closed communications channel, Doug instructed his pilot to bring them over the position of the targets. When he flew over, they were hiding under the overhand of a small building. Jim confirmed their position. Doug was pretty sure they were civilians. His men wouldn’t be bunched up and hiding.
As they flew north, he noticed several openings on the mountainside. They looked like fields of some sort. When he felt they were far enough away that the sound would be muted, he had the pilot set down in the center of one. Jim had his targets in view. He could afford to wait.
It was dinner time anyway.
Chapter 17
Senator Snead read his message again. So Doug didn’t think he was working for him anymore? That was unfortunate. He liked Doug. Doug did what he was told and didn’t ask too many questions. Doug was dumb enough that he hadn’t figured out why none of his men got sick while the rest of the world died.
Even after the Senator had used tactical nukes on two sites in his own state, Doug hadn’t caught on. He liked people like Doug. Especially because he was expendable. Bobby needed his men to continue with the food distribution. He needed order. So Doug had to die.
It was a pity. Doug was rather useful in some ways. He didn’t ask too many questions; he took a mission goal and ran with it. It was his idea to firebomb the test facility at North Georgia. It was his idea to bring back one of the “Russian agents” he’d been tasked to kill. Bobby liked that idea. He wanted to find out what they’d been doing with that computer.
Only after the men had been surprised by a stiff resistance and taken overwhelming losses had he decided to use nuclear weapons instead. He simply couldn’t take the risk his secret would get out. Not now, not when he was consolidating power and taking care of the people.
After the virus, after the nuclear attacks, he had been the one to start rebuilding Georgia. His people had power. His people had water. His people had food. His people looked at him as a hero. And he was. He was a hero. Bobby was going to make sure Georgia became the most powerful state in the former United States.
He had military bases. Fort Benning, Robins Air Force Base, Moody, King’s Bay, hell, even most of Fort Stewart and Hunter Army Airfield had survived. He was a military superpower in his own right. In times of crisis, people needed strength. He was that strength.
Doug wanted to cry over a couple dozen people who had been sacrificed for the greater good. If Doug knew they were only a drop in the bucket of the number of men, women, and children Bobby had killed in order to bring about this new world, he’d probably shit himself.
Billions dead. Not dozens. Billions. Snead was playing the longer game. He had plans to make himself the President eventually. The capitol building going up in Americus was grand. It would make a nice White House from which to lead
his country back out of the dark ages. They were going to need another one. The previous one was missing.
That made him smile. He’d called for a vote of the surviving members of Congress to dismiss Posse Comitatus, the act which prevented the use of Federal military forces in the United States, to restore order. Even with the country in shambles from the virus, nobody wanted the specter of federal forces called up to enforce order. Most of the survivors were trying to get out of D.C. when the missiles hit.
Bobby had already been in the gone. D.C. was targeted by more intercontinental ballistic missiles than any other location in the world. The mushroom clouds had been truly impressive, even from hundreds of miles away.
During times of crisis, people looked up to the ones with the answers. He had them. He also had military alliances. There were generals out there who thought like him. That had made it possible to send the ICBMS skyward toward Russia and China. It also made it possible for him to place a phone call.
He knew Doug had taken a helicopter north to the blast sites. Little good that would do him. He wasn’t going to find enough of his men to bury, even if he managed to survive the radiation. Doug must be even dumber than he thought.
“General Windmer, this is Bobby. I’ve got a favor to ask. There’s going to be a helicopter flying toward Macon this evening, a King Stallion. I need it splashed.” He listened to the response. “No, no survivors.”
Chapter 18
After the sound of the rotors had faded away, Marcy asked, “Do you think they saw us?”
Rob shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I think they know we’re here.”
Jensen squinted slightly, trying to understand where Rob was coming from, “What makes you think that?”
Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 3): Escape and Evade Page 7