by John O'Brien
“As we mentioned before, it’s obvious that anything electrical is dead, with the exception of what we’re carrying. With all of the batteries dead, we’ll need to conserve the ones we have. That means we don’t use them except in an emergency. And, I mean a situation where it’s life or death,” O’Malley briefed. “I want every battery removed from every piece of equipment we own. We’ll fire up the radio for a couple of minutes every three hours and broadcast on the worldwide emergency channel.”
“Including our scopes and NVGs?” Hanson inquired.
“Yes, especially those. We don’t know what occurred, or if it’s going to happen again,” O’Malley answered. “Whatever happened has left four basic types in its aftermath, at least that we know of. There’s the dead, those aimlessly walking around, those apparition things, and the living. The mindless and apparitions seem to be split evenly with regards to numbers. We seem to be in the minority, but we don’t have to worry about the first two. As for the last two, those pose the biggest problem. So, we treat everyone as a hostile until we find out for sure. That doesn’t mean we shoot them, but we aren’t going to walk up and invite them to tea, either.”
“What if we’re the only ones left?” Dixon asked.
“We aren’t, dumbass. I think we can safely assume that staying in the caves saved us from whatever happened. That means there will be others, as evidenced by the camel drivers we saw. They must have held up in some cave overnight before continuing on. And, seeing that a lot of the Taliban hold out in caves, we can assume that enemies are still about. That’s not to say that this thing isn’t confined to this region, though I’m beginning to have doubts about that,” O’Malley replied.
“So, what about heading toward Kabul or some of the larger bases instead of heading across an entire continent?” Dixon questioned.
“And if this thing isn’t regionalized? Then, we run into a shit ton of those things. The company or two here damn near overran us. What chance do you think we’d have if we ran into a battalion…or larger? No thanks,” O’Malley responded.
“Why do we need to go anywhere? Why don’t we just head up one of these ravines or find some other water source and stay there?” Hanson asked.
“One,” O’Malley holds up a finger. “Food. This place isn’t the Eden of wildlife or farming. Two, we aren’t exactly worshipped by the locals here. We’d most likely be blamed for whatever happened. Three, this place sucks…like a hairy sweaty donkey balls kind of suck,” O’Malley stated.
“So, the plan is to wait here to see if any white horses come riding up, and if they don’t, we walk to either the Med or the Arabian Sea…across the whole breadth of the land,” Reynolds inquired.
“Ancient humans did it, and we’re smarter than they were. Well, except for Hanson here. I’m calling that one a draw,” O’Malley said.
“Why is it me that you always pick on?” Hanson mumbled.
“Because you make it so easy,” O’Malley replied. “But yes, without any means of transportation or communications, we’ll have to pioneer it across.”
“But, they had wagons and horses…and food they could shoot,” Dixon commented.
“And we have trailers and camels.”
“So, again, what is our eventual goal? Are we going to try and make it back home somehow, or find some survivable place to settle in?” Reynolds questioned. “Because, I don’t know about you, but swimming across four thousand miles of ocean might be a bit too far for me.”
“Pussy,” O’Malley commented. “Well, seeing how Reynolds apparently can’t swim, we’ll probably need to find an interim place and decide what to do from there. All I know is that we can’t stay here if the boys don’t come riding over the ridge to our rescue.”
“Like you can swim the Atlantic…okay,” Reynolds stated.
“He’s probably under the belief that it will just part for him,” Hanson muttered.
“Or that he can walk across it,” Dixon chuckled.
“Well, I didn’t know we had such comedians here at the open mic. Please, continue to humor me,” O’Malley retorted.
Reynolds cleared his throat. “So, how long are we planning on remaining here?”
“For several days if we have to. It looks like our DEROS is going to be extended somewhat. With the possibility of others about, it’s not a comfortable feeling staying here. And without radios, sending out patrols doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies. There’s no way we can watch the entire camp 24/7, so we’re kind of stuck. We’re going to keep two atop the finger of land with a signal mirror. If anyone does stumble upon us, they may poke and prod. I’m hoping that our compadres doing useless shit in the camp will keep anyone else at a distance. After all, by now they’re sure to have an inkling that populated areas are to be avoided. We aren’t to engage in firefights unless there’s no other choice. We’re just going to observe and stay hidden,” O’Malley briefed. “From here on out, until proven otherwise, there’s no such thing as a friendly. There’s us and there’s them.”
Commander Lawrence—Part 1
Lawrence stood atop the sail, peering over the dark waters. Moonlight glimmered across the waves, diamonds sparkling briefly before vanishing and being replaced. An incandescent bow wave arced away from the Washington as it slowly plowed its way through the cold waters. A chilled breeze flowed past his cheeks as he widened his stance and pressed his knees against the steel walls in order to stabilize himself against the sub rolling in the swells.
Off the Virginia coast, he looked through a pair of high-powered binoculars toward the city of Norfolk. Where there should have been a halo of lights glowing from the town, there was only complete darkness. There were no headlights as people drove along the shoreline, no streets lights casting their glare upon the pavement, no red and green from stoplights directing traffic.
He looked over at the airfields of the naval air station and civilian airport, unable to sight a single moving light of incoming or outgoing aircraft. Several ships were anchored off the wide entrance to the port facilities, each darkened hull without any running lights or glow from the portholes. Having entered the port at night many, many times in the past, Lawrence knew that the coastline should be lit from the many beach houses, but there was only darkness.
Even though he knew that there was the possibility of an immense power outage from the solar storm, the lack of vehicles was disconcerting. Martial law could have been initiated, but he’d at least see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles or bright spotlights from orbiting helicopters. Instead, the void was complete.
He gave the order to hold their station and descended into the control room. Glancing into the cramped radio room, the operator gave a shake of his head. They hadn’t been able to raise anyone on their journey home. He received the same reaction when poking his head into the sonar room.
“Do you mean to tell me that there isn’t a single vessel underway?” Lawrence asked.
“No, sir. I can’t hear a single screw turning,” the sailor answered.
“And you’ve checked the equipment?”
“Aye, sir. Everything checks out. There are the usual noises, but I’m not able to pick up any screws.”
“Does that seem right to you? I mean, we’re parked outside of a busy port,” Lawrence stated.
“No, sir. I’ve never encountered anything like this before. There’s always something moving, day or night,” the sailor responded.
“So, either our equipment isn’t working, or there isn’t a single vessel underway. Check the equipment again,” Lawrence commanded.
“Sir, I’ve triple-checked it. We are picking up sounds, but they’re natural ocean ones.”
“Then check it a fourth time.”
“Aye, sir.”
Lawrence walked away, knowing that he’d been a little harsh with the sailor. He trusted his report, but the stress of the situation was heavy on his shoulders. He’d been tasked with doing a deep-sea test of the Navy’s new toy, which was stressful enou
gh. Then, to surface after performing flawlessly to find no one was home? And then there were the images of the floundering vessels with the strange actions of the crew. The ghostly images he saw were so far out there that his mind had pushed them into the background.
Lawrence heard the slap of water against the hull as he climbed back through the upper hatch. The only visual clue of the shoreline was the white fringe of rolling waves.
“Fire up the radar and slowly take us in,” Lawrence ordered. “And for God’s sake, don’t hit anything.”
The sub surged ahead as the screw bit into the water. Lawrence observed the coastal outline on the radar repeater. The lack of movement and any sign of people was a little disconcerting. At a minimum, he expected to see escort vessels appear, or at least on patrol. Without power and radar, they should have been out waiting for their return. But there was nothing. Even if the solar storm had taken out motorized craft, the Navy were so protective of their toys that they would have sent out sailors in canoes and kayaks if necessary.
The Washington nosed past the darkened hulls, the metallic creaking of their anchor chains echoing across the water. As they worked past the jutting headlands and closer to the town, faint screams reached across the waterway from the direction of Norfolk. Lawrence glassed the shorelines, finally seeing movement.
People crowded every street in sight, some moving with the same erratic and meaningless movements he’d witnessed on the escorting warships. Watching through the night vision, he saw the same kind of auras surrounding some others who wandered along the avenues. At night, the apparitions were more apparent and couldn’t be explained away by some trick of the lighting. Moonshine reflected a silver glow that wavered by many of the townspeople, at times vanishing and reappearing.
Lawrence stared, mesmerized by what he saw. Now that they were fully into the bay servicing the various port facilities, he could hear what had been faint shrieks now as full-fledged screams that rose throughout the city and filled the night. Focusing on just a few individuals, he saw the ghostly auras hovering just beside them. The apparitions vanished as if being sucked inside the body, only to reappear shortly afterward. The affected people sank to their knees and lifted their heads as if baying to the moon. The individual screams couldn’t be separately heard, but each added to the din.
“Record this,” Lawrence ordered, hearing the very faint whine, almost a whisper, of the periscope as it rose.
He saw others wander into walls or walk into the water, only to vanish beneath the waves. Bodies lined the beaches, the corpses bobbing or rolling as each small wave rolled in. Several walked along the long bridge spanning Chesapeake Bay, some tumbling into the waters below. Lawrence focused on one after another, confused by their erratic behavior. Those without the odd inverse attached shadows walked into walls. With the strange behavior, the thought of a biological attack came to mind, and he ordered the entire crew to MOPP 4 levels.
Lawrence scanned the shorelines, streets, and bridge as the sub crept slowly further into the bay. The rolling swells gave way to choppy waters slapping against the hull. Moonlight highlighted the concrete bridge, the ghostly silhouettes on the structure glowing silver. As they passed the point where the bridge ducked into a tunnel in order to provide passage for the incoming and outgoing ships, people dashed across the rocks lining the islands and jumped into the water. They splashed their way deeper into the bay, their screams interrupted by water that poured over their mouths. Some went under, but others attempted to make their way to the dark, sleek hull of the Washington. The sub continued, motoring slowly past and leaving the screaming bodies behind them.
Leaving a translucent wake, the Washington angled toward the entrance to the Norfolk port facilities and naval base. As they drew closer, the screams emitted from within the inky void of the town rose in volume. Just prior to crossing over the freeway tunnel under the entrance, Lawrence ordered a halt and to hold the boat in place. The hull shuddered as the propeller reversed and bit into the waters of the bay to arrest their forward momentum.
The dark monolithic structures of two carriers along piers prevented his view of the rest of the docks, but he had seen enough to confirm what he had witnessed on the journey into port and on the escort vessels. Slowly moving people walked erratically into walls, all mimicking some action that didn’t fit with what they were actually doing. He spied one in a parking lot, continually opening and closing a car door. Others were running about with ghostly outlines, screaming as if in pain. The auras wavered, some lunging outward at intervals only to be pulled back in. In some places, Lawrence saw the forms of those who had apparently succumbed, their still forms just lumps along the docks and in parking lots.
None of the monitors picked up any sign of biological toxins, but Lawrence had them remain in their protective gear. While it wasn’t apparent what had happened, it was evident that something catastrophic had occurred. Also apparent was that they weren’t going to dock or receive any help. The thought of a biological attack coupled with a power outage from the solar storm kept circling in his mind. It was the only thing that made an ounce of sense. However, the sight of the apparitions threw a wrench into that logic. Nothing he had ever seen or heard of could cause something like that…whatever it was.
They should have received a message at the outset of the attack, before the power went down. They might not have received it immediately, but it would have been waiting for him upon resurfacing. There was nothing.
Put him against an enemy fleet or task him with infiltrating enemy waters and he’d know exactly what to do. However, no one ever wrote a manual for a situation like this. As far as he knew, they were the only ones remaining. Even if other fleet submarines survived, they’d have heard something from them by now even if the satellites were out. They tried listening on all bands, but the world had gone silent.
The hull vibrated slightly as small corrections were made to hold it in place against the tidal forces as Lawrence contemplated their next move. Although they had power to last them for years, they had limited supplies. Their trials were meant to be a short event, so they hadn’t been loaded down with food stocks. They could create potable water, but the crew would get hungry. At best, they had a couple of meals remaining on board. He glanced back at the ships riding anchor and immediately dispelled thoughts of going aboard. There were surely people on the vessels exhibiting the same behaviors. And, anywhere they set ashore to gather supplies, there would be a populace nearby.
Each member of the skeleton crew onboard was an expert in their field, but they were in short supply of small arms. The gun locker had several carbines and handguns, but they were woefully short of anyone with skills in that arena. Sure, they’d all fired weapons before, and some with proficiency, but none of them had had any tactics training beyond what they’d learned in boot camp. They were loaded with a full complement of torpedoes and twelve cruise missiles, but a lot of good those would do. Especially if the GPS system was down. The cruise missiles relied on continual updates to stay on course.
“Take us back out and park us off the mouth,” Lawrence ordered.
The Washington turned about and crawled its way out of the bay, nosing past bodies floating on the tide. As they passed the bridge and tunnel entrances, more people jumped into the water and attempted to swim out to the sub, screaming and flailing in the cold waters. The screams faded to a faint background noise as the Washington edged into the Atlantic.
Lawrence opted to have them remain on the surface in case someone not affected happened to come along. If there were other submarines or forces that were still viable, they’d eventually head toward the base. If the Washington was on the surface, they’d be seen. Submerged and only holding position, they wouldn’t be seen or heard. Still, he wasn’t all that comfortable sitting on the surface. After all, the sub’s greatest protection was that it was unseen and unheard. He was throwing that protection away by remaining atop the swells. In addition, he ordered the running lights turned
on. To him it seemed that he might as well have sent up fireworks and blared horns. These decisions went against his instincts, but there was a need to remain visible in case any friendlies happened along.
Heading below, he called for an officer’s meeting. As before, they assembled with cups of coffee steaming from stained mugs.
“So, here’s what we have. There’s been no contact to date. Now, that could be due to the solar storm knocking out the grid, but I think it’s more than that. We’ve confirmed that we don’t have any signal with the satellites, so we can assume that they’re compromised as well. And there isn’t a single vessel afloat, or aircraft aloft, and no vehicles moving ashore. At this point, I think it’s safe to assume that anything motorized or powered is no longer functional. What remains to be seen is whether this is regional,” Lawrence began. “However, with what happened to our escort vessels, I’m leaning toward something on a much larger scale.”
“Was it an attack of some kind?” one officer asked.
“It’s entirely possible, but we’d have had some message waiting for us upon surfacing, or heard something come through on the ELF. Even with the comm satellites out, we’d have heard something over the airwaves from someone. Now, that’s not conclusive; an attack could have coincided with the solar storm. But, any attack of this magnitude would have required some powered flight delivery system. So, that contradicts itself. If what we’ve seen was only shore-based, I’d lean toward a large-scale attack on the United States. But, the escorts were affected as well. So, either someone is very good—better than anyone could be—or it’s something else,” Lawrence answered.
“What then?”
“And that’s the question. I have no idea. But, watch the video first, then we can talk further,” Lawrence stated.