Officer Of The Watch: Blackout Volume 1

by D W McAliley

  Eric stood and looked south and west towards the latest of the mysterious flashes. Claire and Christina both stood with him.

  "Everything okay, babe?" Christina asked, her hand finding his and squeezing tightly.

  "Yeah, it's probably nothing," Eric said, peering into the distance. "Something about that lightening just doesn't seem right."

  "What do you mean?" Claire asked, looking off in the direction of the last flashes.

  "Well, it's the wrong color," Eric said hesitantly. "Plus it's jumping around a lot. I saw a few flashes to the northeast, then some south west, and now a few just about due west. Storms don't move around like that."

  Claire stood. "Come on, let's go down by the lake and see if we can get a better view of what's going on."

  Eric nodded and stood. He helped Claire and Christina to their feet and the three walked carefully and quietly past the tents, though any sound they could have made would have been more than drowned out by Bill's unbelievable snores. They walked down the shoulder of the road in the dim starlight. The breeze was cool, but not cold, and with the stars overhead it was really a pleasant night. The only sound was a breeze whispering through the trees and the very far off mumble of what sounded like a jet engine. Eric strained his ears, but the sound of the jet faded before he could pinpoint a direction, and the three walked down to the edge of the bridge in silence.

  Eric stood at the edge of the bridge with Christina on his right and Claire on his left. They looked out at the lake and the remnants of aircraft rising like tombstones from a field of grass. Eric could smell the faint, acrid fumes of high-octane jet fuel that was leaking from the damaged fuel tanks on the planes. Every now and then, the breeze would shift slightly, and a more unpleasant smell that he didn't want to think about would waft past.

  Suddenly, to the north, there were four flashes of bright orange and yellow light that lit the sky. The rumble that followed was sharper and crisper than anything before had been, and it started in their feet and reverberated up through the air. Eric looked at Claire, a frown on both their faces as they struggled to process what they were hearing. I seemed like it should be thunder and lightning, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky. And the sound didn't quite fit right.

  The sound of a jet crept back into Eric's perception, and he turned to the south. "Do you hear that?" he asked, pointing toward the southern horizon. Claire and Christina both nodded and they faced the sound also. The dull moan grew steadily to a roar and somewhere overhead a jet screamed by in full or near full after-burner throttle.

  Just as the sound of the jet was passing overhead, a high-pitched whistle and whine to the south grew in a rapid crescendo and there was a flash of bright orange-red fire and smoke. A hard detonation shockwave slammed into the three a heart-beat later as they stood wide-eyed and open mouthed. Two miles to the south, an old rail road bridge collapsed in a deep black cloud of smoke and dust visible even in the darkness.

  The jet engine roar was back and growing louder. It took a brief second, but Eric suddenly realized what was happening.

  "GET DOWN!" he yelled and threw himself against Christine, knocking them both into the storm ditch next to the road.

  Just then there was another ear-piercing whine and whistle. A blinding flash of light and heat accompanied by a near simultaneous crushing shockwave slammed into Eric, and he was stunned for a moment. Sounds seemed muffled as he tried to stand and lost his balance twice.

  Eric frantically felt all over Christina, but couldn't find any injuries. He took a small flashlight from his pocket and looked her over, but there were no cuts or bruises. Her eyes were wide, and she tried to tell him something, but he couldn't understand her. The words blended together in a garbled and muffled mumble in his numb ears. Eric put his fingers to his left ear and blinked at the small trickle of blood smeared on them.

  His ear drums had likely burst.

  Eric turned back towards the bridge, and the ground seemed to spin. He nearly fell again, but managed to catch himself. The bridge that had spanned the entire lake now ended two hundred yards out in a jagged, smoking heap.

  Claire knelt in the middle of the road facing the ruined bridge.

  When Eric stepped up to face her, he looked down and felt his heart drop into his shoes. Claire sat slumped slightly forward, her hands feebly pulling at a two foot length of twisted steel rebar that had impaled her through the chest at a slightly downward angle. She looked up at Eric, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Claire tried to stand, but the effort seemed to tear something deep inside her. Her body arched with a sudden spasm, and she fell over on her side. Eric knelt and ripped his shirt off to wrap around the rebar and try and slow the blood seeping out around it.

  Claire looked up at Eric and moved her mouth as if she was trying to speak, but all that came out was a bubbly froth of blood. She coughed once hard, and then her body went limp. Eric felt for a pulse at her neck, but couldn't find one.

  With tears streaming down his face and blood trickling slowly from his ears, Eric reached down and carefully closed Claire's eyes as the sound of distant thunder rolled on past the horizon.

  Ch. 22

  Better In The Light

  Chris leaned over and whispered in Joe's ear, "Are we really going to watch this go down?"

  Joe took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly. He shook his head. "No," he replied. "We'll take the two on the outside first, the two on the inside next. Get your knife out. I've got my side, you've got yours."

  Joe drew his knife with his left hand and his suppressed Beretta with his right. Chris nodded when he was ready. The two crept forward silently and with surprising speed. Years of training took over, and they began rolling their steps and cushioning the impact of their stride with their knees. The result was a low-crouching, shuffling sprint that was quick and quiet.

  Just outside the light from the four-man squad's flashlights, Joe and Chris stood in unison. One shot from their twin Berettas dropped the two men on the outside of the semi-circle formation. Their companions turned and stared open-mouthed for a brief heartbeat.

  That was all it took.

  As the man on the right turned back to the darkness behind him and raised his M-4 carbine, Joe stepped up and smoothly drove home his tactical dagger just under the man's right jaw at an upward angle. The man's body jerked once, hard, as the spinal cord was severed cleanly. Both bodies hit the ground nearly simultaneously as Chris dispatched his guard. Joe nodded to him, and Chris knelt by the four bound captives at his feet. He took off their hoods first and made them focus on him, and not the four bodies. Four young men between seventeen and twenty-two by the looks of them stared wide-eyed at him in shock. Joe kept an eye on the perimeter as Chris took care of the captives.

  "Look at me," Chris said softly, but intensely. "I am a United States Air Force officer, got it? This guy, he's Navy Seals, okay? Now, you can tell us who you are when I untie you. If you start making noise or if I think for a second you're lying to us, we will finish what they started."

  The oldest of the four blinked a couple of times and then nodded twice. Chris leaned over and loosened his gag. He put the hoods back over the other three, and they squirmed at first, but the young man growled. "Y'all cut that shit out!" After a bit of muffled grumbling the other three settled down, and the bound spokesperson turned back to Chris. "I'm Donovan. Man, I don't give a damn who you are, thank you. Them dudes were gonna kill us, and they weren't shy about saying it."

  Chris nodded. "Did any of them say who they were with? Mention a country? Speak in a foreign sounding language?"

  Donovan shook his head. "Nah. All I heard was one saying they had to stay on schedule or the TOD would be all over them. Said it like they were sweepin floors or digging ditches. Those dudes are ice cold, man."

  "What about you, Donovan?" Chris asked. "You don't seem as shook up as you should be. What do you do?"

  "None of your damned business," Donovan spat back. "You don't know me.
I don't know you. Let's keep it that way."

  Chris shrugged his shoulders just a bit. "Okay. I can appreciate that. Now, can you keep these guys under control? They know who's in charge, right?"

  "Man, you cut me loose and leave me a blade or wire snips," Donovan said, shaking his head. "I'll cut them loose after you guys are long gone. You ain't even got to worry about them. They're my problem, not yours."

  Chris looked at Joe and shrugged. Joe seemed to think about it for a moment and nodded. He came around and knelt in front of Donovan.

  "Look," Joe said, his voice soft and low, "if I even think you guys are behind us, I'll come back for you. I'll put you down and not think twice about it. You're right, I don't know you and you don't know us. Probably best that we keep it that way so everyone can stay healthy. We clear?"

  Donovan nodded. "Yeah, we're clear."

  Chris busied himself gathering magazines and two rifles from the dead contractors. He left one pistol and two rifles, with one half-full magazine each. He left two strong tactical folding knives clipped to the contractors' belts. It wasn't much, but at least the young men would be able to defend themselves if they ran into trouble....for a while.

  Joe took out a three inch lock-blade pocket knife and flipped the blade open. It was small, but razor sharp and well-made. He clipped the ties around Donovan's feet. Donovan held out his hands, but Joe shook his head.

  "I don't trust you," Joe said flatly. "Here's the deal. I'm gonna set this knife on the tracks right here. Then I'm gonna put your gag and your hood back on and sit you down five feet in front of the tracks. Then we walk away, and you find the knife and cut yourself out. This way, by the time you and your friends are really free, we will be long gone."

  Donovan nodded, and Joe was good to his word. Once Donovan was gagged and blind-folded again, Joe left him kneeling just as he'd promised. As Joe and Chris made their way back down the rail road tracks, they checked behind them several times. The last they saw of Donovan, he was carefully pacing forward, placing his feet heel-to-toe slowly and deliberately.

  "Four groups of bodies," Chris said softly to Joe as they moved side by side. "Nineteen dead. Those guys would have made twenty three. Whoever these contractors are with, they're trying to make a statement."

  Joe nodded, "Most of the time, people say it'll look better in the light of day. When the sun comes up tomorrow there's going to be dozens of victims of 'random violence' all over the city. It'll give them the perfect excuse to come down even harder."

  "We've got to get out of here," Chris said. "We can't wait. It's got to be tonight or tomorrow. Any longer than that and they'll have it locked down so tight around here we won't be able to move."

  Joe nodded and Chris picked up the pace. They were only a few miles from home now, and it was still hours before dawn. Joe stubbornly refused to acknowledge the burning stitch in his right side as he quickened his steps. As he ran, Joe checked his rifle to make sure it was chambered and ready. So far they'd been able to avoid a hostile exchange of fire, but given years of combat experience, Joe knew that luck couldn't last forever.

  Ch. 23

  When The Dust Settles

  When Eric stood, his legs were steadier and the dizziness was beginning to fade. His ears were still ringing and every sound had an odd echo effect, but even that was settling down as well. Every muscle in his body ached, though, and his head felt like it had been temporarily used as a speed bump for a dump truck or a city bus.

  Eric pulled Christina to her feet and helped her up the slope towards the convenience store. Imogene and Bill had come out of their tent, as had Mike. They all stared wide-eyed at the remnants of the bridge they'd crossed just hours earlier. Then Mike noticed Claire's body lying on the pavement at the edge of the bridge.

  "Claire!" Mike called, starting down the slope, "CLAIRE!"

  Eric stepped in front of Mike and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands, forcing him to a stop.

  "Mike, she's gone," Eric said. "There's nothing you can do for her, and you don't want to see it."

  "NO!" Mike cried. "You're wrong! We've got to help her!"

  Eric tightened his grip as Mike tried to pull away. "Listen to me, Mike. She's got a two foot long piece of steel rebar through her chest. It pierced at least one lung and part of her heart. She bled out in a matter of seconds. She's gone, man. I'm sorry."

  Mike's knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. His face was twisted into a gruesome mask of pain and anger as he stared down at the smoking rubble of the bridge and Claire's body lying on the roadbed. Finally, after a moment, he looked up at Eric with red eyes and fresh tear tracks cut through the dust, sweat, and grime on his cheeks.

  "We've got to take care of her," Mike whispered hoarsely. "Bury her, or something. At least get her out of the road like that."

  As Eric helped Mike stand, he put a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "Come on up with the others," Eric said, "and we'll talk about it."

  Mike nodded numbly and let himself be turned away from the bridge. The three of them walked slowly up the hill to the parking lot of the Stop-n-Shop. Bill and Imogene were waiting outside their tent. Bill's left arm hung in the makeshift sling across his chest and he had his revolver in his good hand. Imogene's cheeks were wet with fresh tears.

  "Claire," Imogene said, her voice cracking, "are you sure she's...?"

  Eric nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. It was over so quick I don't think she really had time to even feel it."

  Imogene nodded and buried her face in Bill's massive shoulder as sobs shook her from head to toe.

  "What the heck was that?" Bill asked, gesturing towards the ruined bridge.

  "I'm not sure," Eric replied, shaking his head. "Some kind of airstrike I think. I heard a jet engine right before it hit."

  "Why would someone bring down this bridge? We're not near anything important really," Bill said, confused.

  "I can't say," Eric answered, "but I don't think this is an isolated thing. They blew up an old train trellis south of here, and there have been flashes all around the city throughout the night. I was so tired I just wrote it off as lightning from a far off thunderstorm, but it was too scattered for that. I think they're cutting off the city."

  "For what?" Mike asked with fear thick in his voice.

  "Make it easier to control," Bill said. "They did the same thing in WWII. Go in and bomb all the bridges and roads leading out of a city; save your road in. Then you send in the ground troops and paratroopers to subdue it; no escape for the enemy and no resupply."

  Eric felt a sudden knot of fear in the pit of his stomach. "If that's really what they're doing," he said softly, "then the next step is invasion."

  He looked around and slowly each member of the group gave some sign of acknowledgement and agreement. "We've got to get out of here," Eric said finally. "If this bridge was important enough to blow up, then they'll definitely be sending a team to make sure the job was done right. I don't want to be up here when they come through."

  "What about Claire?" Mike grated through clenched teeth. "We can't just leave her in the road like that."

  "We've got to, son," Bill said. He holstered his revolver and put a massive hand on Mike's shoulder. "If we move her or bury her, it'll be a sure sign to the people who come that someone was here. I know it's tough, by try and think it through, Mike. They bombed that bridge in the dead of night when they didn't think anyone would be around to see it. You really think they'll be okay with a group of eye-witnesses walking around breathing?"

  "We'll have to leave one of the tents and a sleeping bag,” Eric said. “Spread some random supplies around to make it seem like Claire was alone. With any luck, they'll brush her off as random collateral damage."

  Mike turned his head, spat, and then stalked off towards the truck. It took the rest of them less than hour to set up the fake campsite. They raided the store for what they could carry and left enough to make a convincing case for Claire be
ing a lone traveler. When everything else was in the truck and ready to go, the eastern horizon was just starting to fade from black to dim purple with the first hints of the sunrise that was still a few hours away.

  Mike stood for a long time looking down at the smoking rubble of the bridge and the body of one of the few true friends he'd ever had in his life. Mike said good bye to his partner and his friend while the rest of the group waited in the truck, the engine running. Mike knelt briefly, tears clouding his vision, and whispered, "I don't know if you're there, God. I stopped asking you for things a long time ago, and I don't much give a damn what you think about it. But you took a good woman tonight. I hope you had a good reason for it."

  After a moment of silence in response, Mike stood and turned his back on the burning bridge.

  Ch. 24

  Keys Please

  Chris dropped to one knee beneath a stand of oak trees next to the gravel path they'd been following. Joe followed him and dropped to a knee with his back to Chris. He kept an eye on their back trail, watching for any pursuit and finding none. The sky to the east was beginning to turn a light purple with a hint of gray at the very bottom edge. The sun would be up within a couple of hours, and they'd lose the slim advantage night had afforded. Already it was light enough to make out, without the help of the night vision scope, the shapes of a handful of deer moving in the tree line across the park from them.

  Chris cursed under his breath and tapped Joe lightly on the shoulder. "There's a Humvee and four of those contractor assholes in front of my house," he whispered, and handed Joe the small high-magnification spotting scope.

  Joe put the scope up to his eye and pressed the activation button. The image in the scope was surprisingly clear, and he could make out the four men standing in a loose perimeter around the Humvee. The vehicle had a mounted .50 caliber machine gun, but no gunner at the moment. A fifth man came into view from the house with something that looked like a file or a clipboard in his right hand. He reached into the Humvee and took a radio handset.