Fallout

by Wil Mara

  “Okay…” She yanked the cap off the highlighter and drew a thick line over Barrett Street on the map in front of her. “Got it.”

  “Ma’am? Are you sure this connection is good?”

  “Hmm?”

  “That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me to repeat myself.”

  She didn’t need an interpreter to catch the subtext—Do I have your full focus? Because if I don’t, that’s a problem that’ll require a call to the general.…

  “I’m sorry, Sergeant, there does seem to be an intermittent breakup of your voice. But since I don’t know if the cause of the problem is on your side or mine, and given how jammed the lines are right now, I’d rather not risk trying a new call. Let’s just do our best, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She wasn’t sure if he believed her, but she was sure she didn’t give a hoot. She couldn’t remember the last time this many hours had passed without some kind of contact from Emilio. I’m sure he’s busy, particularly now that the evacuations are in full swing. But still.

  She forced her thoughts back to the map and, more to the point, the master list of Silver Lake residents she’d printed earlier in the day. She was amazed both by how many names she recognized and how many she did not. Many now had lines through them; people who had already been picked up and shipped out by the evac trucks.

  “First family on Porridge is the Mendhams,” Pitt said. Sarah could hear a big diesel engine chugging in the background. “House number eight on the east side.”

  She flipped to page sixteen. “The Mendhams, okay … family of three—Robert, fifty-one, Jane, fifty, and a son, Paul, seventeen.”

  “They’re coming out right now.”

  There was a pause here—a standard feature of the rhythm they’d developed—then the kid continued with, “Okay, they’re aboard. They’ve received their masks and appear to be—wait … yes, my corporal is reporting that they’re fine. Ready to go.”

  Sarah crossed the names out. “Good, thank you. Next should be—”

  “Ms. Redmond?”

  The voice—which did not come through the phone but rather right in front of her—was deep enough to fill the room. Looking up, she saw a black woman at least six and a half feet tall, dressed in a camouflage uniform. She had tight curly hair and a drawn, longish face that made her appear perpetually sad. In one of her sizable hands was a portable dosimeter in a black case.

  “Sergeant?” Sarah said into the phone.

  “Right here.”

  “I’ll be with you in a second. Please carry on with the evacuation.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Addressing her visitor directly, she said, “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Captain Beverly Price.” The voice was unusually low for a female and quite powerful.

  Sarah nodded once. “Hello.”

  “Hello. Ma’am, this building is no longer safe for human habitation. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

  Sarah’s first instinct, no doubt sharpened by her dealings with General Conover, was to argue. She’s being conservative and overcautious, I can tell, and I’ve got too much to do here. Then common sense weighed in, reminding her that neither Conover nor this woman had any control over the amount of radiation that was floating around the chambers and hallways of the municipal complex.

  “Okay, Captain, I understand.”

  “There’s a helicopter in the courtyard, waiting to take you to the refugee station we’ve set up outside the exclusion zone.”

  Sarah’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “A helicopter?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The general wants to get you there as soon as possible to help coordinate the post-evacuation activities.”

  How is that going to look to the rest of the town? Sarah wondered. Regardless of her VIP status—thanks to the power she was currently wielding and her accurate perspective on the overall situation—she worried if there was something cowardly about flying off to safety while so many residents were still waiting for the evac trucks to show up.

  “Does it have to be a helicopter? Can’t I just go in one of the trucks like everyone else?”

  Price shrugged. “I’m sorry, ma’am, those are the general’s orders. I cannot modify them.”

  Sarah nodded reluctantly. “All right, fine.”

  Another young officer entered the room, smaller than Price and wearing a round military cap that matched the camo uniform. His wire-rimmed glasses made him look more like a bank clerk than a solider. After a curt salute, he reported that all other municipal employees had been evacuated from the building.

  “Except for these two,” he said, gesturing to Magnus and Harris, who were standing by the doorway peering in.

  “You both really need to go now,” Sarah told them.

  “Don’t you need anything else from us?” Harris asked.

  “I can handle it from here. Your families are waiting for you.” Sarah smiled. “You’ve earned your pay for the week, I’d say.”

  “Ma’am,” the captain urged, tapping her chronograph.

  “Right.” Sarah gestured with her chin to her coworkers. “Go on, you two. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  The bank-clerk officer shuffled them away and Sarah began gathering what she needed to take with her while Price looked on impatiently. Her iPad, the resident list, four maps, laptop, her personal notebook, and two emergency-response manuals went into her messenger bag. Her phone, which she took a moment to check again—still nothing from her husband—went into her pocket. In spite of the fact that all of this took no more than two minutes, Price looked like she was ready to spit fire.

  “Okay,” Sarah said, “lead the way.”

  * * *

  “This is how it works,” Price said as they reached the bottom floor. “You’ll see two men at the back exit, both wearing radiation suits. One will hand you an oxygen mask, which you’ll need to hold tight over your nose and mouth. Try to breathe normally.”

  “All right.”

  “Once you’ve got the mask in place, the other soldier will throw a large, clear plastic sheet over you, open the door, and guide you to the helicopter, which will be about forty feet straight ahead.” They were halfway down an echoey corridor, which ended with a right turn. Caged emergency lights glowed from high along the walls. Sarah had been in this part of the building only a few times over the years and never really became familiar with it. Now, like everything else today, it’s part of a litany of new experiences. Lucky me …

  She pointed to her ear. “How come I can’t hear the ’copter yet? I know the door down here is shut, but aren’t they noisy as all hell?”

  “The downwash caused by the rotor would blow the radiation around even more,” Price said, “and it’s bad enough already. So the ’copter’s off. The pilot will get it going after you’re inside.”

  They turned the corner, and at the end of the second hallway she saw two figures in vivid yellow. Their suits were more advanced than those stocked by the town and had the form-fitting characteristics of light armor. The head covering wasn’t a loose, cylindrical enclosure with a clear viewing pane but an actual helmet. The faceplate was opaque when viewed from the outside, concealing all sense of who was behind it. Gloves and boots were dark in contrast to the rest of the outfit, making Sarah wonder if the designer’s decision to match these accessories had been a fashion concern.

  The anonymous figure on the left came forward with the oxygen mask just as Sarah’s cellphone rang. She held up one hand to stop the soldier while she fished the device out of her pocket at light speed. Kate Soames’s name on the screen was, frankly, a disappointment.

  “Hello?”

  “S-Sarah…” The wobble in Kate’s voice, which was choked with tears, made her difficult to understand.

  “Kate, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s Pete and Mark—they’re out there! Sharon Blake, too!”

  “What? Out where?”

  “In the storm!”

/>   “What?!”

  “Mark went with Sharon to Prince Field to take a walk!” The words came out in a wild flow, all but racing over one another. “They didn’t know about the radiation!”

  “Okay, slow down, I can’t—”

  “—went to find them. Then he got caught in the flooding on Juniper and we got cut off!”

  “All right, where are they now? Do you know?”

  “Somewhere over by the field.”

  “Prince?”

  “Yes. Sarah, please—please send someone over there. Just … please do something!”

  “Okay, stay by the phone. I’m going to go up in a helicopter to look for them!”

  “Okay, all right…”

  “I’ll call you back ASAP.”

  She ended the call and turned to Price, who looked tremendously unhappy. The figure in the radiation suit with the oxygen mask was frozen in place, waiting to see where this went.

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” Price told her.

  “I have three residents out there in the storm and a helicopter standing by outside. Now, are we here to rescue people or not?”

  “My duties are very clear, ma’am.”

  “So are mine, ma’am.”

  A staring match ensued, during which neither side flinched for what seemed like an eternity.

  Price put her hands on her hips. “If I countermand the general’s orders, I—”

  “The governor can do it, right?”

  “What?”

  “Governor Kent. He can override the general, is that correct?”

  “Of course, but—”

  Sarah put her hand out. “Give me your cellphone.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your phone, I’m going to call the governor right now.”

  “Is something wrong with your phone?”

  “No, but you’ll see why in a minute.”

  “Ma’am, we—”

  “We’re wasting time, Captain!” she barked. “Now give me your goddamn phone!”

  That fire-spitting look settled onto Price’s face again. She reached around the back of her belt—slowly, as if she was being held at gunpoint and didn’t want to alarm her assailant—and removed the phone from its holster.

  Sarah tapped in the number from memory and walked a good distance away from the others. It rang several times with no answer, and she was afraid she’d have to strong-arm Price into seeing things her way, which she intuitively felt might be outside the realm of the possible now. Then a click, and finally the governor’s voice, harsh and curt and so obviously intended to put people off balance—

  “Curtis Kent.”

  “Governor? It’s Sarah Redmond.”

  “Hello, Missus Mayor. I understand the evacuations are progressing smoothly.”

  “Yes, so far so good. I’m sorry, Governor, but I don’t have a lot of time and I know you’re busy as well, so I’ll get right to my point—I need a favor.”

  “Oh?”

  She went over the details quickly, leaving out the fact that she and Kate Soames had become good friends over the last few years. The more objective the better, she thought.

  When she was finished, Kent said, “Well, doesn’t the Guard have evac vehicles in the vicinity of this field?”

  “They’ve already done that part of town. To go back over there would take one unit away from wherever they are now. Also, the only road to the field is flooded and, apparently, there’s a submerged car in the way.”

  “Then the general can call out another bird.”

  Sarah blanched at the colloquialism. It was no secret that Kent never spent a day of his life in the military, and in fact there were unsubstantiated but persistent rumors that he had participated in a few anti-Vietnam demonstrations in the late sixties and early seventies. Yet since his ascension to the gubernatorial throne, he never passed up an opportunity to demonstrate his solidarity with the nation’s armed forces—and one of the laziest methods of doing so, Sarah had noticed, was casual usage of the lingo.

  “Even if he decides to do that, Governor, it will take time for it to get here from the base, and these people have been out there for hours. There’s really no spare time left. We have a helicopter here and now, ready to go.”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah, but I can’t sign off on this.”

  “May I ask why?”

  He paused, and in that hesitation she could hear the gears of his political brain turning—If I give her the go on this, she’ll look like a hero. MAYOR-FOR-A-DAY RISKS LIFE TO SAVE RESIDENTS. That was the kind of publicity that moved people up the political ladder at a healthy clip; career-changing publicity. And there wouldn’t be any room in the story for him, Sarah realized, and wished she had thought of a way to address that before making the call. Would he allow three voters to suffer even a minute longer than necessary just to avoid letting a rival score a few points?

  Son of a bitch …

  “It’s too risky for you,” he said finally.

  “I’ll be in a sealed helicopter with an oxygen m—”

  “And overriding the general sets a very bad precedent.”

  “You’ve done it before,” she pointed out, “so the precedent has already been set.”

  “Look—” He was angry now. Frustrated by my refusal to play along. “I’m sorry. The answer’s no.”

  “Maybe this will change your mind.…”

  She had her own phone out and the voice-memo app open. She hit the file “MEMO3” and held the phones together. The earlier dialog between the two of them came out as clear as daylight—

  “… I believe you know that I have been supportive of the nuclear-energy industry in this state from the beginning, correct?”

  “Yes. I’m aware that that’s been your stance on the issue.”

  “And a thing like this, like what’s happened today, can backfire on a person in my position very easily.”

  “Sir, I’m sorry, but I really have to—”

  “Just hold your horses. What I’m trying to say is that I would be grateful to you if you would make certain to let the media know how cooperative and effective I have been to you throughout this crisis.”

  (pause)

  “Sarah? Are you there?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m here. And I understand what you’re saying. But … you wouldn’t not mobilize the Guard, would you? That’s pretty much standard procedure here, right? I mean, how would it look if—”

  “No, not that. Of course I’m sending in the Guard. I’m just as concerned about the welfare of your citizenry as you are. No, I’m talking about the other things.”

  “Other things?”

  “You might just come out of this mess looking like the hero of the day. And if that’s the case, it would be to my great benefit to be touted by you as your vice-hero, particularly with election season looming on the horizon. You’re understanding me so far, right?”

  “Yes, I get it.”

  “And you need to remember that the media’s a funny kind of animal. One moment it’s rubbing up against you like a kitten, the next it’s turned into a fully grown lion that’s trying to rip your throat out. Doesn’t matter what side you’re on. Doesn’t matter what the truth happens to be.”

  “I’ve experienced my share of—”

  “Of course, many of those same media people are old friends of mine, so I do have something of an advantage over, say, someone who’s a bit lower down the ladder. And of course, it’s always nice to be able to call in a favor or two if I need to cover my ass … or go after someone else’s.”

  Sarah hit “stop” and brought Price’s phone back to her ear.

  “Governor?”

  “Yes.” The voice had undergone a radical change. The charm was back in its box; its user had clearly decided it wasn’t going to be of any value now. Taking its place was an unabashed inhumanity that chilled Sarah to her core. This is how he did it, she thought. This is how he got to the top of his game. There’s a monster inside—and I just gave
it a good kick. The flat, deadly tone in which he’d said that single word was all the proof she needed.

  “I don’t know all of those old media friends of yours,” Sarah went on, “but I do know there are others who aren’t as friendly as you would like, and I’m sure most of them would find your remarks from earlier today fairly interesting. Now, do you understand me so far?”

  “Yes.”

  “Terrific—then listen carefully.…”

  * * *

  The helicopter lifted out of the courtyard ten minutes later with Sarah in the passenger seat, then turned due south, toward Prince Field.

  27

  Text message from Sarah Redmond to Emilio Rodriguez, 6:14 P.M.

  Hey honey, you’ve really got me worried.… Could you let me know that you’re all right when you get a moment?

  Text message from Sarah Redmond to Emilio Rodriguez, 6:31 P.M.

  Hey, they’re telling me it’s time to leave the building and that there’s a helicopter waiting for me! Text me back and let me know where you are. I love you!

  Text message from Sarah Redmond to Emilio Rodriguez, 7:02 P.M.

  Change of plans—we’re taking the helicopter to find Pete and Mark Soames, and Sharon Blake. They all got caught in the storm. I hope they’re okay. And I hope YOU’RE okay, too. PLEASE text me back or call me when you get a moment. I’m sure you’re busy, but I’m starting to get a little scared now. I love you SO MUCH.

  Text message from Sarah Redmond to Tim Evans (Director of EMT Services), 7:12 P.M.

  Hi Tim. It’s Sarah R. Have you heard from Emilio? He hasn’t been in touch with me in a while, and that’s very unusual for him.

  Text message from Tim Evans to Sarah Redmond, 7:13 P.M.

  Umm … yikes, I was just about to ask you the same thing.

  * * *

  He heard every cheerful bing! in a muted, distant fashion, like a pinpoint of light at the end of a long tunnel. She’s trying to reach me. The messages were arriving with increasing frequency, although he only knew this in a general sense; his thoughts remained too muddled for greater precision.

  I have to respond. I have to—

  Get help.

  I need help.