Nuclear Winter

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Nuclear Winter Page 21

by Td Barnes


  Charleston Boulevard in Las Vegas, where it intercepted with Boulder Highway consisted mostly of auto dealerships before becoming a seedier part of Las Vegas frequented by the homeless before the EMP attack.

  The two scavengers bravely walked up the deserted street to the abandoned teletherapy clinic that they knew a medical facility from having seen the word etymology on the door. They also knew that a medical facility usually carried a supply of drugs.

  Having earlier peeked through a side window, and observing the teletherapy unit for tumor treatment, one of them looked at it again before picking up a large rock to break the front window for their entry. They prowled for drugs that they might trade for food, finding nothing but a strange looking capsule.

  Both became very excited about their find. Hurriedly scrounging around the building looking for something to use to open it, they located a drawer of tools in the back room where they found a screwdriver to use. Once opened, one of them dipped a finger into the capsule and tasted the powder with his tongue.

  “Shit,” he exclaimed. “It is some kind of dope, but I can’t tell what. It is probably cocaine. We can trade this down on Owens.”

  They wandered into the homeless village half an hour later where the best of the scroungers had managed to steal enough food to stay alive. Most survived on roosting pigeons boiled in a meat stew. On a good day, they might also have a dog or cat mixed in the stew.

  The two arrived in time to join a group of the homeless misfits and scavengers for a bowl of the stew. In exchange, they gave each of them a snort of their dope that in the darkness glowed blue.

  Those who took a snort of the powder woke up the next morning vomiting and experiencing diarrhea, none realizing their snorting dope from a teletherapy source capsule containing powdered cesium-137 radiation. As the day advanced, their bodies swelled and turned red wherever they had touched the powder.

  The sick mingled for the next two weeks with other homeless who also came down with the symptoms of acute radiation sickness from making physical contact. The entire homeless community lay dying from radiation contamination by the end of three weeks.

  North Las Vegas - Same time.

  It broke the man’s heart to see his wife and kids beg for food or worse yet, sending his wife and teenage daughter out to barter sex for food. He feared for their safety because of the stealing and looting occurring in their neighborhood. Yesterday, he had barely managed to hide his family without anyone seeing them when a crowd of hungry people swept down the street looking for shops and warehouses only to find them empty.

  He did not know the source or the validity of the rumor circulating among the starving that somewhere north of Las Vegas there existed a mountain of stored food. Nonetheless, he saw no other choice but take his family north to find this cache of food. First, he needed to find and steal or capture a vehicle that still ran.

  Thousands of families shared this plight in the Las Vegas Valley. The fear of an army of marauders under the command of a ruthless leader known merely as Sergeant Taylor’s army added to the urgency of their escaping the city.

  Sergeant Taylor mostly recruited and accepted for his army of raiders the terrified and highly trained young military men stranded by the war. Taylor considered them his child soldiers while teaching them to commit rape, sexual slavery, and acts of torture like those of his mentor. Because of their youth, most adopted his cruelty to enhance their standing with their new leader, many joining him while still in the military, which made his army even more dangerous by their having access to food, medical, and ordnance on the base. Many raided the supplies they managed, which gained them ranking in Taylor's army.

  Sergeant Taylor, an enormous black man, stood over six feet tall and weighed near 250 pounds. He ruled by force and fear, proving himself a wise strategist who, despite his PDST, quickly elevated his base of operations from the streets of North Las Vegas to an abandoned warehouse on Craig Boulevard north of Nellis Air Force Base.

  Taylor headquartered his growing army there while hoarding food, weapons, functional vehicles, and fuel for his invasion at the mountain at Jackass Flats. He realized that with food becoming harder to acquire, he must soon field his army.

  These days, Taylor remained in the protection of his warehouse building because of the conditions outside making his men sick. He managed to have them disappear while out on a mission once they grew too ill to function in the field.

  Using his command duties as an excuse to avoid accompanying his soldiers anymore, he maintained his leadership status by offsetting his not leading in the field by being brutal to those who failed or offended him, and by rewarding those who submitted to him.

  He welcomed each squad upon their return to ensure their spoil going to his coffers instead of their personal use. He allowed his army to keep the girls that they captured if they brought him the prettiest one. Those bringing him a virgin received personal recognition and sometimes a promotion.

  It pleased Taylor that his lieutenants set good examples for his 120-man army by the way they conducted their daily home invasions. He commanded a professional army, thanks to his military members, an army that wore body armor and used professional entry training modeled after the North Las Vegas SWAT squad. They used CS gas to drive out the occupants if they failed to do so at a stack entry. Failing that, they used military-grade firepower, considering every home armed and guarded. Thus, their attack came by surprise, speed, and brutality.

  The endless supply of young girls they captured for their later entertainment became equally important to the food obtained from a raid for the morale of his army. The girls quickly became the objective of the most brutal in the field, many of them gang-raped before taking them to the warehouse for the entertainment of Taylor’s army.

  His men often returned these days with little to show for their efforts, finding most of the homes and businesses bare from previous raids. This required the patrols to extend their coverage that of late included invading the territories of competing armies in Las Vegas. Just today, he had lost seven of his men in battle near the Las Vegas Civic Center.

  He finished satiating his sexual needs with the young girl and shoving her aside, motioning for two of his lieutenants to take her away to share her with his men. "Do not kill her," he shouted after them. "Girls like her are becoming scarce.”

  He motioned to the lieutenants to join him at his conference table where he produced a map of the National Nevada Security Site.

  "It is time for our army to take the mountain,” he announced. "Select a squad to conduct a recon mission. I drove a truckload of supplies up there, so I know the way. We can get there by entering the site at Mercury, or we can go to Lathrop Wells and go in a back way past the deserted guard stations. Prepare our army for departure on an invasion the moment the scout's return.”

  T plus 47 Days Yucca Mountain.

  The motion detection alarm sounded again at the guard post inside the portal, the fourth movement alarm in less than an hour.

  “It came from sensor number five this time,” the guard announced to the shift officer sitting at his post.

  One of the guards scanned the darkened perimeter with a remote-controlled spotlight until he spotted the source of the movement. "Another coyote,” he announced to both guards and the shift officer also watching the monitor.

  "They are famished,” the other guard said. "Their food chain is dying off because of the cool weather killing the plants.”

  Four guinea hens taking up station near the door to the portal to feed off insects heard something outside and suddenly raised the alarm.

  Bradley walked up to look at the monitor check the cause for alarm of the noisy guineas. None of those on duty noticed him standing behind them.

  "They are not the only creatures getting hungry about now,” he said. "I am surprised that we haven't already seen traffic out of the city with people seeking food. Stay on your toes, men. We are overdue for visitors. Too many people know we are here a
nd some will start remembering the deliveries they made to us. Anyone alive in Beatty will also remember that we are somewhere close by. Do not open the door to the portal under any circumstances.”

  "Does that include people from Beatty, sir?” One of the guards asked.

  "We've been over this before. That includes everyone,” Bradley replied testily. "Even if the Pope himself knocks on our door we will not let him in for fear of where he has been.”

  Bradley left the guard station and drifted into the Communications Center hoping to hear the radio operator finally talking to someone. The operator saw him walk in and shook his head in an adverse movement.

  Bradley felt unsettled about something that he could not identify. He walked back into the mountain to the forward dining room where he filled his mug with coffee and sat down at a table. He took a sip and looked around only to see Stacey, Jerry, and Sammie approaching with Jerry’s UNLV girlfriend, Jamie Ellis in toll. They saw him, and each poured a cup of coffee and joined him.

  Bradley grinned at Jamie when he saw her carrying a cup of Joe like the others. She, like many of the younger generation, had escaped the coffee addiction of his family.

  When Jamie found Cokes and Pepsi no longer available, she, as predicted by Bradley, caved into her caffeine needs and now acquired her fix from coffee. She saw his smile directed at her and returned it with a mischievous — yes, Asshole, you won — smile and a salute with her coffee cup. Both chuckled but said nothing.

  "Sammie, have you picked out a mate yet?” He asked teasingly. His daughter showed no interest in the selection available to her, though the committee and he promoted marriage and families. His restricting admission to the mountain to only married men and women left open only the teenage dependents and a few single men among the brainy ones under his protection.

  Sammie flashed a quick glance at their mother who responded with a conspiratorial smile.

  Bradley recognized the conspiring exchange among his women. He saw that neither of them intended to answer him. "You can't say I did not warn you if you turn into an old maid,” he teased. The women not talking made it obvious that Sammie had found someone.

  “How many pregnancies do we have?” Jerry asked the group in general.

  “First dad and now you,” Sammie exclaimed. “What is with you men worrying about our sex life?”

  Jerry threw up his hand in denial. “Whoa, Sis. I merely noticed the two pregnant ladies over there, and it sparked my interest. Gotta guilty conscience?”

  They glanced in the direction he indicated and saw two obviously pregnant military wives visiting over a snack. Sammie blushed and changed the subject.

  The four of them made light table talk for a few minutes before Stacey and Jamie took their leave. Sammie stayed behind without saying why.

  "I will catch up with you in a few,” Bradley tried to call out to the departing ladies. “Jez, you may hang out with me,” Bradley said decisively. He felt a premonition that he could not identify or shake since seeing the coyote triggering the motion detectors.

  He stood up to leave only to hear his XO greet him when she and her husband walked in. "Hi George, I need to borrow my XO. Grab a cup to go and come with me, Jane,” he ordered.

  She walked with them back towards the portal entrance without Bradley saying anything more for a moment. He stopped near the guard station to look at the external monitor. He saw nothing but the usual bleak darkness. The radiation count showed the same level of the past two weeks.

  "We haven't seen the sun for over a month now. Something tells me that we're in danger.”

  "The sun?”

  "No, not that. It's more of a premonition, a gut feeling.”

  "Like what?” She asked.

  He looked at the massive steel door and the fitted wall frames that separated them from the ugly world outside. "The door,” he said. "What if someone managed to drive a bulldozer through the door? Or worse, yet — what if someone hit it with a few tons of explosive?”

  "I see your point, sir. I believe we might be smart to fortify our entrance even though it would take a cannon projectile even to dent the door. It is blast-proof steel. However, one could cut a hole and drive through it. We can move the guard station back and throw up a berm inside the door."

  "If someone drives through that door, they will also drive through any berm. It's a major job, but we have the jackhammers and dynamite here to do it.”

  He took his foot and drew two parallel lines about 20 feet across running parallel to the door. "Let’s dig a trench at the entrance to the door with a drawbridge for when we need foot traffic across it. I will call it a moat for lack of a better description. We can build the berm you suggested on this side of the trench using the rock that we excavate. Make it a bunker wall with loopholes for our defensive weapons rather than merely a stone berm.”

  Barlow studied his suggestion for a moment before agreeing. “I agree with your concerns. I will have Captain Callahan put our military personnel on alert with a combat shift stationed here around the clock.”

  That is what I had in mind. Those on duty can pull shifts like a fire station. Provide them with a place to sleep, chow down on food delivered from the mess hall. Set them up with whatever they need for recreation during their shift of standby duty. Do the same at the south portal. A squad of five at each location should be adequate to hold the line until the rest of the troops can activate.”

  "Yes, sir.”

  “We will require vehicle access at the south portal so I suggest a moat there with a movable bridge that we can put in place when needed. Otherwise, make it accessible only by foot or horseback. That will slow down any intruders until our troops arrive. Also, install a passive minefield that we can activate remotely. We should take another look at our air vents and CO2 scrubbers. Make sure we have strong enough blast filters to prevent gas or explosive attack on us through our ventilation system.”

  "That's one thing that DOE did right. They designed the ventilation system to protect against a terrorist attack the same as they did the portal doors. Everything is blast resistant. The NBC/CBRN air filtration and ventilation system will do the job,” Barlow said confidently.

  Together they laid out locations for their machine guns and grenade launchers for the first line of defense, as the same time selecting places along the main tunnel to scatter the placement of weapons and secondary lines of defense for further backup.

  Bradley imagined in his mind what he needed for a secondary line of defense should the first line be overrun or taken out.

  “XO, build us a fortified wall here with two machine guns in the center. Raise a column to near the top of the tunnel for placement of snipers on each side. Place gas mask stations behind each of the defense lines and throughout the tunnel in the event of a gas attack. I believe we should be more insistent that everyone wears their Kevlar or at least have them with them. Any explosive activity might loosen some of the ceiling rock.”

  “I agree. This is an excellent time to make wearing helmets mandatory with us about to start blasting operations,” Barlow replied. “Our military should become accustomed to always wearing their combat helmets.”

  “Lieutenant,” Barlow called over to the duty officer. “Put out the word that all military personnel shall wear their Kevlar from here out.”

  Bradley said to Barlow, “They can remove their headgear during meals, breaks, classrooms, and while off duty, but they must always have it on their person.”

  She turned to Bradley. “Sir, I suggest the same apply to arms.”

  “Add firearms and ammo to that order, Lieutenant who had overheard their comments,” Bradley commanded.

  “Yes, sir, yes, ma’am.”

  The fortification of the mountain took only 18 hours to complete using the hard rock mining equipment stored at the mountain.

  Shuffling the residents around to create military quarters closer to the portal door and deployment of the armed residents for defensive duty took over 24 ho
urs with the mountain’s first responders heightening their role of ensuring protection from a radiological or biological attack from the outside.

  Bradley believed in leading by delegating authority and not micromanaging his subordinates. He made his belief known by ordering his committee of advisors to stand down once they initiated the defensive effort to avoid interfering with the decisions of the most qualified specialists.

  The success of their cross-training activities became evident when the entire community pitched in to help where they could. When they finished, the mountain stood ready and waited much like the Alamo awaiting the attack by Mexican troops under President General Antonio López de Santa Anna. Those at the mountain expected an attack, but when?

  Sammie had watched her father, brother, and the XO leave the mess area wishing she could share their essential responsibilities. She instinctively felt the urge to be her person.

  Even as a child, Sammie was a rebellious follower. She attributed her desire to kick ass, her independent streak to her father who more than once took her with him to a base shooting range where he allowed her to crack a few shots. She killed her first buck deer at age 13, loving firing a gun ever since.

  She felt great satisfaction from being the custodian of the secret weapons that made everything else at the mountain obsolete. She hoped they could prevent using them, but intended to be prepared to do so if needed.

  She cleaned up the table and washed her coffee cup before putting it away. She left the dining area and headed to the new gun range designed by some of the military and DHS engineers to shoot passive weapons that simulated actual firing to include grading hits and provided the same sounds and recoil one could expect from actual firing.

  She could hear the muted gunfire before she entered the cubicle whose plywood entrance formed a series of maze-like turns to muffle the sound.

 

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