Deserted Lands (Book 2): Straight Into Darkness

by Robert L. Slater

  “Could we...?” She glanced away and took a deep breath. “I mean, I’ve never been this forward. But I’ve never been through an apocalypse. Would you like—”

  Mannie felt his face warming. “I would like—“

  Her phone buzzed. She sighed, pressing a button. “Yes, Mr. DiSilvio?” Her voice was perfectly pleasant, but the hardness of her face reminded him of Isabel when she talked to her father. He had never realized how much his daughter despised him.

  “Is Guerrero here?” DiSilvio’s voice barked.

  “Yes, sir, he is.”

  “Send him in.”

  “Mr. DiSilvio will see you now,” she hit the end button. “Good luck,” she whispered with a slight smile.

  “Maybe we’ll continue this conversation when things aren’t so crazy.”

  “No maybe,” she said, “Please make certain we continue the conversation.”

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t wait until things aren’t crazy. We may not have that long.”

  “Thanks,” Mannie said, holding the glimpse of her pleasant smile in his head as he turned to walk into the maelstrom. He felt good, a bounce in his step despite what he was heading toward. He half expected Mr. Ray to come barreling out of the door. When he didn’t, Mannie turned the knob and walked in.

  “I need you to help us settle something, Guerrero.” DiSilvio’s face was red with anger.

  Mr. Ray seemed calm and pleasant. He nodded in greeting. “Hello, Mannie.”

  “We need power,” DiSilvio continued. “Electrical power we can guarantee. These recent brown-outs prove that. Our crew headed to the solar plant from the south is the first half of what we need. Badly.”

  “We do not need it badly enough to start a war,” Mr. Ray’s voice rose.

  Mannie had never heard even a hint of anger or reproach from Mr. Ray.

  “There has been enough death,” Mr. Ray said.

  “We may not have another option,” DiSilvio's voice matched the new mayor’s in level. “If we can't get the solar power from Delta, natural gas becomes our only choice.”

  Mannie stepped in between them. “I think you’re both right. I don’t think you’re going to start a war diverting the solar plant. Getting the Olmsted going will relieve some pressure, but hydroelectric can only keep some of the city going and until we get melt off they're not even running to capacity. Doctor Packard assures us that we should have a couple years’ supply of Natural Gas. Though I'm curious. Are we really the only city trying to run off that supply?” Mannie looked to Mr. Ray. “That may be the direction Mr. DiSilvio's war comes from.”

  DiSilvio glared at Mannie. “Not my war. But you're right.” The lights flickered, then went out. “What the hell?”

  In a matter of seconds they flashed and came back to full life as the generators turned on and took over.

  DiSilvio punched his phone. “Winters? Get the power plant on the line.” He punched it again. “Well, that didn't take long.”

  “That seems entirely too coincidental,” Mr. Ray said. “How long since the convoy left? When will they reach Delta?”

  Mannie considered what Mr. Ray said. It was very soon after the last black out. Packard said it should be stable until they got the solar online—could it be sabotage? Mannie looked at his watch. 1400 hours. “Shouldn't take more than a couple hours. If they left on time, they should be there.” He punched a channel open. “TOC to Murder One. Colonel Foote?”

  “Mannie. Looking for an update?” Foote's voice sounded strange from the small speaker on the manpack radio.

  “Yes. But also,” Mannie glanced from Ray to DiSilvio, “Our power is down here again. So whatever you're going to do... We'd appreciate you getting to it.”

  “Are you thinking we could see some action out this way? I was planning on using this as a training exercise, not live fire. These boys aren’t ready. ”

  Mr. Ray raised his index finger. “Foote. Take your time. We've got things under control here. Do what you think is best.”

  DiSilvio shrugged. “Yeah. A well-trained militia is an even higher priority than power.”

  “All right. I'll report anything significant. Foote out.”

  Mannie pushed the button and turned to the other two men. “Well?”

  Mr. Ray spoke first. “Let's head to the Provo gas plant. Then out to the Olmsted Station Powerhouse. See how soon they'll be back online.”

  “I'll call Simmons,” Mannie said, “and have him get us an escort together.”

  Mr. Ray blew air out his mouth. “They can meet us there. I'm safe with you two.”

  “Might not hurt to be armed,” Mannie suggested. “If you think it might not just be a coincidence...”

  “Good idea,” DiSilvio agreed, crossing to his desk. He pulled out a pistol, holster and belt and strapped it on.

  Mrs. Winters looked worried, but competent as DiSilvio gave her directions. She flashed a smile at Mannie as the other two exited. “See you soon, Mr. Guerrero.”

  Mannie drove them all in Rubi. The Provo Power Plant was only about five minutes away and thankfully, no one said a word, leaving Mannie to worry through this latest development.

  Simmons’ SUV squealed into the parking lot before them. Simmons, in full riot gear and three similarly equipped men fanned out as Mannie pulled up to the door.

  Mr. Ray was shaking his head. “Tony. I really don't see the need.”

  “Mr. Ray. We've made enemies with our success. I’m afraid this is literally a power struggle.”

  “There's no one left to do this.”

  “The independents?”

  “I'm going in. Maybe take a look around the perimeter?” Mannie left them to their conversation and hustled to the control room. The heavy metal door screeched when he tugged it open. There was no one in the room.

  Then the door across the room opened and a young man hustled in, his eyes wild. “The power is out, sir.”

  Mannie hesitated, then spoke calmly. “I know. That's why I'm here.

  “The pipes were flowing. Just like usual. Then nothing.”

  “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” Mannie probed.

  “Nothing. It stopped. No flow.”

  “All at once?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Something didn’t jibe with the kid’s story. “How many minutes?”

  “I, uh, I’m not sure.”

  “Okay.” The kid had a strange red mark on the side of his face. Yup. “Can I ask you a question? Off the record. It won’t leave this room.”

  “What?” asked the kid.

  “Johnson? Did you fall asleep?”

  The kid collapsed into the chair like the air had been let out of him. He was a good kid, but couldn’t lie for shit.

  “Yeah.” The corner of his mouth turned up and his eye twitched. “I don’t know how long it took.”

  “Can the computer tell us?”

  Johnson’s face lit up. “I think so.” He spun and clicked away with the mouse.

  Mannie stood behind him peering at the screen.

  “It stopped in 1.78 seconds. No gradual drop off.” He spun back to face Mannie. “Somebody shut it down.”

  “How far does your data reach? Can we get info on where the flow stopped?” Mannie asked, grimly.

  “Hhhmmm…” Johnson refocused on the screen. “Not sure. I’ll see what I can track down.”

  “You do that. Here’s my phone number. If the phones stop working I want you to run the information over to Mrs. Winters at Mr. DiSilvio’s office. She can get it to me. How long will the generators in this building last?”

  “Beats me.”

  “Find out. Do what you can. Thanks, Johnson.”

  “Mr. Guerrero,” Johnson asked, “you’re not going to report me falling asleep are you?”

  “Will it ever happen again?”

  Johnson shook his head quickly. “No. No, sir, Mr. Guerrero, Sir.”

  Mannie laughed out loud. “What should you have done when you got s
leepy?”

  “Stayed awake?” the kid offered tentatively.

  “You’re a bundle of laughs. No, kid. Tell someone. None of us are super human. Ask someone for help. Worse thing that happens is you get a talking to. Nobody’s gonna shoot you for asking for help. Better to lose some pay than make a mistake.”

  Mannie clapped him on the shoulder. “All right. Get back to work. Your secret is safe with me.” He strode back outside, surprised that his knee wasn’t hurting him. He swung himself up into Rubi. It felt good to be needed.

  He had a suspicion he knew where the shutdown had occurred. North. Now to find out for sure. His friends at Fort Williams, the Independents, the Boise folks or somebody else?

  Mannie drove Rubi around the buildings. He could see in the distance that the two were continuing their argument. He pulled up and hollered out the window. “Tony? Mr. Ray. Come on. Let's go to the Olmsted. I'll tell you on the way what happened.”

  Zach scanned the flat and mostly empty ground around the plant. He would have laughed if things weren’t so damned tense. The men were all wound up, ready to shoot anybody who got in their way.

  It wasn’t really that big a deal. They were flipping a switch. Sending power in another direction. Who would care? The people in California would be frustrated when they lost power, but they were a long ways away, and must have better options nearer and more convenient than this solar plant. They didn’t need this many soldiers to flip a switch. DiSilvio was paranoid: convinced the rest of the country was going to come after him and everything he had in Utah.

  Lt. Benson waved everyone back, then emptied several rounds into the doorknob.

  Zach flinched. Stupid fuck. If Provo needed this functional, they wouldn’t want the doors swinging open to the wild. Was Benson going to shoot out the windows, too?

  Benson, motioned two men forward, one swung the door open while the other rushed in.

  “All clear.” Came a voice from inside.

  The rest of the squad pulled in tight inside the door.

  Benson glanced around at the men. “Riley. Samson. Go down the hall and check it out. If there is anyone alive in here, I want to know about it. Call back when you’ve cleared a room.

  “You ready, Will?” Zach asked his partner. Not waiting for an answer, he crept down the wall ducking under the window in the door so he was on the handle side. When Will reached the other side, Zach turned the knob, throwing it open. Not like anyone but a deaf man could be unaware of the onslaught of the Provo regulars. Will slipped in through the open door, his gun at the ready.

  Zach counted to three and then followed him in. Where had he gone? Will came out from behind a bookcase. Their guns pointed at each other.

  “Shit.” Zach lowered his gun. “We’re not careful, somebody’s gonna get hurt.” They were playing army like in grade school, but their guns had live rounds. “All clear, Benson!”

  They continued into the plant, alternating teams to clear the way before them. Between the nerves and the exertion, Zach could feel his undershirt soaked with sweat under the layers of winter gear.

  Benson ordered Will and Zach forward for their second turn.

  This time Will threw the door open. Zach spun in with his back to the wall and froze.

  A guy stood there, dusty and bearded, but a hunting rifle held at his waist, like in an old west movie.

  Zach’s finger felt sweaty on the trigger. “Drop it. Now!” Zach had no idea if he could actually fire at the man if he refused to drop it. He knew if he pulled the trigger he couldn’t miss.

  “Drop it for God’s sake,” screamed a female voice from around the corner.

  The gun drooped and the man slumped. He set the gun on the floor.

  “Kick it over to me,” Zach ordered. Had the guy been thinking the same thing as Zach? Can I kill in cold blood?

  Zach’s squad rushed inside surrounding them, guns ready. As Zach stooped to grab the rifle. Will smashed the man against the wall.

  “Sampson,” Zach yelled. “Gently. He’s unarmed.”

  “Maybe.” Will let him go and stepped back, slapping his hands together.

  The girl walked out with her hands up. She looked much younger than the man, but maybe the beard just made him look older.

  “All right,” Zach said. “Pull your pockets inside out.” He kept his rifle ready as the captives complied quickly.

  Benson pulled a couple backpacks from where the girl was hiding, and started pulling things out and throwing them on the floor. Zach could tell they were neither enemy soldiers nor plant personnel. But he stood silently guarding them while Benson came up with the same conclusion. After a call to Foote, they continued.

  An hour and a half later, they had been over the facility twice and found no additional people.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE SUN SLIPPED BEHIND THE hill as Mannie followed DiSilvio and Ray up the rise to the Olmsted Station Powerhouse. They were arguing as usual. Mannie’s phone buzzed and everyone stopped. The screen read Provo Power calling. He motioned to the rest of the crew to continue on. “This is Guerrero.”

  “Johnson here, Sir.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Shut off occurred at Leroy Field, Uinta County, Wyoming at 13:42 hours.”

  “Doctor Packard said it should switch over to Clay Basin?”

  “It didn't switch.”

  “Thanks, Johnson. Who knows, you might get a commendation.”

  “No, please, Mr. Guerrero, Sir. It would be too, uh…”

  “I’m kidding, Mr. Johnson. See if there is any way to override the flow without going local.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll try.”

  Mannie closed the connection and hurried into the building. He found Ray and DiSilvio listening to the watchman.

  “The engineers knocked off after a setback, but, when I heard about the shutdown, I called them back. They should be here any minute. Feel free to wander the grounds.”

  The watchman seemed relieved when they turned their attention to Mannie.

  “Well?” DiSilvio rounded on him. “Was that a personal call?”

  Mannie was instantly pissed off. “Sir?” he answered, vainly keeping the pique from his voice.

  Mr. Ray stepped in, “Was it information we need?”

  Mannie took a breath and responded to Mr. Ray directly. “Shutdown at Leroy Field, Wyoming. No switchover.”

  “Leroy Field?” DiSilvio asked. “You’re sure. And it’s shut down, not just run out?”

  “As near as we can tell,” Mannie said, still speaking directly to Mr. Ray, “it didn’t slow down, it just stopped. I'm guessing someone up there shut us down. Beat us to the punch.”

  Mr. Ray’s mouth twitched almost into a smile. “Just like we’re planning to do to California.”

  Mannie nodded. “And how do you think they’re going to feel about that?”

  “Well,” DiSilvio rubbed his hands together. “We’ve learned something the hard way. We’ll gradually lower the power transmission, they’ll just think something’s gone wrong.”

  “Doesn’t mean they won’t come check it out,” Mannie countered.

  “Nope. But it might mean they come not realizing that there is anyone behind the shutdown.”

  Mr. Ray had a dark frown on his face. At least he felt some pain about what the ‘troops’ might get used for.

  Still. DiSilvio’s plan was probably a good one. Provided there weren’t troops from California or Dugway or something there already. He should check with his contacts at Dugway and Ft. Williams. Did they still have power?

  “Shall I contact Colonel Foote?” Mannie asked. It wouldn’t do any good to make plans hinging on a power plant they didn’t control.

  “Yes. We'll inspect the perimeter while you do that,” Mr. Ray said with a hint of a smile.

  Mannie smiled back at him. Mr. Ray was all right. They wandered off as he headed back to the Jeep. He pulled the radio out of the charging stand and thumbed the recall button. “Co
lonel Foote?” He sat in the seat leaving the door open. It was chilly, but not as bad as a week ago. At least they didn't have to worry about keeping people from freezing to death.

  The radio buzzed and he held it to his face. “Mannie?”

  “Yeah. Status?”

  “We've got control. Couple of vagrants were the only occupants. None of the men managed to get more than bruises from tripping on their own damn feet.”

  “Good training exercise then?”

  “Should be back in Provo tomorrow. Planning on leaving a crew with Benson to continue training and defend the facility here.”

  “I'll pass that on. Has Packard figured out how to switch the system over?”

  “He's growling and muttering in the other room, so I'd guess he hasn't yet.”

  “Provo would like you to lower the feed gradually when you shut things down. So it seems like the system is failing.”

  “Smart thinking. I'll pass that along. Any luck with the power?”

  “Not yet. Check in tomorrow?”

  “Right. Foote out.”

  Mannie sat there wondering what Zach was thinking about his first action.

  A car pulled up behind him. A man jogged up the hill. The lights of another vehicle flashed back and forth up the hill. A loud explosion echoed off the walls of the canyon.

  Was it a gunshot or an electrical explosion? Mannie jumped from the car, pulling his Sig from its holster, and spun as several more explosions and ricochets followed. Gunfire. From at least two different weapons and directions. He ran up the hill heading in between the two locations of fire.

  More shots. Then quiet. As he crested the bank, he ducked behind a tree, evaluating the area for threats. Over by the river, he saw a man down, dark blood stained his shirt. It was Mr. Ray.

  DiSilvio, crouching beside the body, looked up and spotted Mannie, then his eyes shifted to the ridge above. He pointed.

  A man with two rifles stood with another man in front of him. THE SUN SLIPPED BEHIND THE hill as Mannie followed DiSilvio and Ray up the rise to the Olmsted Station Powerhouse. They were arguing as usual. Mannie’s phone buzzed and everyone stopped. The screen read “Provo Power calling”. He motioned to the rest of the crew to continue on. “This is Guerrero.”