Apocalyptic Visions Super Boxset

by James Hunt

  “I have a man out here asking to speak with you.”

  “Tell him I’m busy.”

  “He says he has information about the Cincinnati case.”

  Ben shot a glance at Mitch.

  “People went nuts, huh?” Ben asked.

  The agency was packed. There were people from all around the country. Allegations and reports of what people did to each other ranged from murder to theft. The dust was still clearing, but the majority of the country was back on its feet.

  Power started to come back on in most major cities two months ago. Once that happened and communication channels opened back up people started to calm down.

  Ben was selected to head the task force to ensure that all claims of serious illegal activity during the time of the blackout were heard.

  It wasn’t a job anyone wanted. It was a slew of hearsay and “he said, she said.” People just kept passing the blame and pointing fingers elsewhere for misdirection.

  Ben hadn’t run across a single solid case until this guy walked in and turned himself in voluntarily. He said he was responsible for everything. The planning of the EMP missile launch, the organized coup in Cincinnati, murder, treason—all were admitted by him in a written statement.

  The guy even had knowledge about the detailed inner workings of how it went on. He gave them names, locations, anything and everything that would tie him to the crime. The only thing that didn’t match up was the guy’s profile before the lights went out.

  Ben requested his information a few days ago and it finally arrived today. The guy had no priors, no criminal history of any kind. The two pieces of the guy’s life were total contradictions.

  The assistant brought Ben and Mitch into a private room, set aside for one-on-ones that required a quiet place to talk, away from the chaos of the main floor.

  Inside was an older man dressed in an old tweed jacket and a bow tie. The assistant left and Ben extended his hand, which the old man took hesitantly.

  “I’m Agent Sullivan. This is my partner, Agent Hamon. You told one of our assistants that you had information on a suspect we’re holding?”

  “Yes, I believe I can help.”

  “Well, what can you tell us?”

  The old man’s fingers fumbled nervously over each other. His eyes roamed the floor, as if there were words written down there that could help him speak. He paced the office for a moment, not saying anything.

  “Listen, pal,” Mitch said. “If you’ve got something that can help us, let’s get on with it. We have other things we need to get done.”

  “I’m sure you think you have an open-and-shut case.”

  “Yeah, the guy confessed to everything,” Mitch said.

  “What do you know?” Ben asked.

  “I know that whatever facts you heard were based on half-truths.”

  “Do you know the man in custody?” Ben asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you know that he’s not telling us?”

  “Everything.”

  Ben rubbed his eyes. The long nights and cryptic messages of what was true and what was false were starting to weigh on him.

  “Then why don’t you tell us, Dr. Wyatt, exactly what you know,” Ben said.

  Dr. Wyatt took a seat in the corner of the room, where the lights were low and his face was cast in shadows.

  “I want to see him first,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  ***

  Ben and Mitch went back to their office, leaving Dr. Wyatt alone in the waiting room.

  “The guy’s lying,” Mitch said.

  Ben pulled open a drawer of one of the filing cabinets. He flipped through the files, searching for a document he remembered seeing a while back.

  “Ben, you can’t let that guy see our suspect,” Mitch said.

  “Where’s the file on the utilities hearing?” Ben asked.

  “What?”

  “We had the minutes to a utilities hearing in Congress that happened over a year ago. We received the file from a senator when we first started getting things up and running. I know we have it somewhere.”

  Ben went through every drawer and file, but couldn’t find it. He slammed the last drawer shut and fell back into his chair.

  Mitch walked over to his desk and opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out a stack of papers and dropped it in front of Ben. Ben flipped through the pages, making sure they were from the meeting he was looking for.

  “I still don’t think we should let him see him,” Mitch said.

  Ben ran his finger along the text on the pieces of paper. He started reading aloud.

  “Dr. Wyatt suggested that the United States was susceptible to an open attack on its power and water facilities.”

  “You think the doctor was in on it?” Mitch asked.

  “No photos of our guy are going to be sent out to the public until tomorrow. The only people that know we’re holding him are here in this building. Let’s show the doctor a lineup. See if he can point our guy out. That’ll at least tell us if he has a connection with him.”

  ***

  Dr. Wyatt sat on the other side of the one-way glass waiting for the suspects to walk in. Ben told him to identify the man he believed they had in custody.

  A group of ten individuals walked in, all similar in height, ethnicity, and appearance, each with a number in front of them. Dr. Wyatt took a few moments examining the group before speaking.

  “Number eight,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  Ben shot Mitch a look and then sent everyone except the man Wyatt identified out the door.

  “You sure?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, it took me a minute because of the facial hair, but that’s him.”

  “Okay, then. You know him. Now you’re going to tell us about him.”

  “I was a part of the original planning of the attack. I’m sure you’ve read the articles that were written in regards to my meeting with the Senate committee before the blast happened. I was approached by a man afterwards who was looking for a partner.”

  “This partner was the man that planned the attacks? And was responsible for what happened in Cincinnati?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, he was the man who tried to purge the country of everyone who wasn’t prepared. That’s what he wanted, for people to hurt,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  Mitch threw his arms up in the air.

  “I told you, Sullivan. Put a bow on it. This is done. We’ve got his partner in custody,” Mitch said.

  “No, I’m afraid it’s not,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  Mitch’s arms fell to his side, deflated.

  “What do you mean?” Ben asked.

  “The man I identified just now had nothing to do with the EMP attack, or the coup to overthrow the government,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  “Then why would he confess? Why would he turn himself in and say he did all of these things that he had nothing to do with?” Ben asked.

  “Penance I suppose.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “To help him, as he helped me.”

  “Do you have any proof? Anything that can back up what you’re telling me? Because you’re going to have to give us something to overturn the written confession we have.”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t, but if you could just let me speak to him, have a few minutes alone—”

  “Oh, no,” Mitch said. “There’s no way in hell you’re seeing our guy alone.”

  The blinds to the waiting room were closed, blocking them from the rest of the office. Ben could still hear the bustle of people outside, their voices talking about the weekend, what they were going to do that night.

  All of it was still pretty surreal to him. He couldn’t imagine what some of the people in this very office did to stay alive during the outage. The worst of human nature seemed to turn on when the power went off.

  Whatever really happened between people during the blackout was between them. He knew that most cases would get thrown out, because there just wasn’t enough evidence.
/>   Ben had to pull something tangible out of this mayhem. He needed to prove to himself and the rest of the country that what people did wasn’t okay. He wanted to show that the line of right and wrong was a very clear one, and those that tried to cross it would be brought to justice.

  “There might be one piece of evidence that I could give you, but I’m not sure if it still exists,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  “What is it?” Ben asked.

  “I kept a journal, detailing the plans of the attack and the rebuilding process we wanted to go through.”

  “Who has it?”

  Dr. Wyatt looked back through the one-way glass at the suspect, standing alone in the room.

  “Mike Grant,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  Day 21 (Cincinnati)

  The vibrations from the bike made Mike think his still-healing ribs would crack back in half.

  After they passed through Carrollton he found himself struggling not to turn around. Fay wasn’t outside when they drove through. He even made a point to slow down, scanning every piece of sidewalk up and down the street, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  A shot of guilt ran through him, but it was only for a moment. Once it passed it felt as though it had never happened at all.

  Mike led the caravan of vintage Harleys and the Jeep. Sam, Nelson, and Kalen were on their own motorcycles, while Anne, Katie, Sam, Sean, Mary, Nancy, and Erin were packed in the Jeep along with whatever supplies and weapons they could fit with them.

  Mike’s hands felt as if they had pieces of steel wedged into them, and each time he tried bending them the steel would crack. He had to pull over a few times, turning the four-hour drive into six hours.

  Most of the time when he pulled over he would say it was for bathroom breaks, but Anne knew what was happening. She gave him some pain reliever between stops. Everyone else just figured it was for his injuries. No one knew about his hands except Anne.

  The abandoned cars became more frequent the closer they moved to the city. When Mike saw the massive green signs telling them Cincinnati was ten miles out, Mike pulled everyone over.

  He took a few seconds on the bike, focusing on stopping his hands from trembling before he approached the group.

  Nelson walked with a slight waddle after getting off the bike. Katie laughed at him.

  “Hey, I’ve been on that thing for almost six hours. Cut me some slack,” Nelson said.

  “How is everyone on fuel?” Mike asked.

  “Jeep’s looking okay. We have about a quarter tank,” Anne said.

  “I’m running low,” Sam said.

  “Me too,” Kalen replied.

  “Same,” Nelson answered.

  “I don’t have much left either,” Mike said. “We should still have enough to make it into the city, but if things go bad I want Kalen to jump in the Jeep with Sam, and you guys head as fast and far as you can in the opposite direction. Nelson and I will hang back, try and buy you all some time.”

  “Whoa, what?” Katie asked.

  “As much as we all want to believe this is the real deal I want us to have an escape plan if things go south,” Mike answered.

  “But the radio signals. They kept coming in. This place wouldn’t keep sending them if it wasn’t safe, right?” Nelson asked.

  “Hopefully, but we won’t be the only ones that came across the signal, and we won’t be the only ones who have wandered into Cincinnati,” Mike said. “Everyone keep your eyes open.”

  Mike climbed back onto the Harley. The seat was a hard composite and the metal grips didn’t offer much comfort for his hands. In another time he would have loved to have a bike like this. He remembered when he was younger watching “Easy Rider” how much he wanted to ride across the country, going on adventures. Now, all he wanted to do was dump the bike he was riding in a scrap heap and watch it burn.

  The group turned off onto the first exit they saw for Cincinnati and made their way into the city’s streets.

  Most of it was what Mike had expected. Storefront windows were smashed. Trash was everywhere. The road was so cluttered with cars Anne had to take the Jeep onto the sidewalk for a bit.

  There was something off about the way the cars were left in the street. They were abandoned after the EMP blast, which he was sure of, but the cars seemed too organized. It was as though they were roadblocks.

  Mike glanced down a few side streets on their way and could see that every road heading toward the center of the city had similar clusters of cars, but the crossroads were completely clear.

  There also weren’t any signs of people. They’d been riding for almost ten minutes and Mike hadn’t seen a single soul. The deeper they went into the city the less disheveled it appeared to be.

  Then Sam caught Mike’s attention, pulling up right next to him and gesturing up to some of the windows in buildings above them.

  It took Mike a minute to see them because they were fairly well hidden, but he noticed the slight movement in the windows.

  Men with rifles were stationed in different buildings on the fifth floor, keeping a bead on them.

  The road finally cleared out and just before Mike could accelerate four armored trucks converged around them, blocking any escape.

  Soldiers got out of the vehicles with their guns pointed at Mike and the rest of his group. They moved in close. Mike put his hands in the air. The rest of the group followed suit.

  One by one, the soldiers removed everyone’s weapons. They were forced to get out of the Jeep and line up on the sidewalk, keeping their hands behind their heads.

  One of the soldiers pulled Mike aside and patted him down.

  “How’d you find us?” the soldier asked.

  “We heard your message over the radio,” Mike said.

  The soldiers piled the guns and supplies they found in the Jeep into one of their trucks.

  “I’ll want those back,” Mike said.

  “Where’d you get the vehicles?” the soldier asked.

  Mike didn’t answer. He wasn’t going to play twenty questions with someone who just had a gun to his head.

  “What is this place?” Mike asked.

  The soldier flashed a smile.

  “Shelter from the storm,” he said. “We’ll collect your vehicles and any rations you have. All of your personal effects will be returned to you after the interview process.”

  “Interview?” Mike asked.

  “Just to make sure you’re… safe,” the soldier said.

  One of the armored trucks stayed with Mike’s group, and they were escorted deeper into the city. The longer they walked, the further Mike’s jaw dropped.

  People were driving around in cars. Every person Mike saw walking on the streets looked clean and healthy and had the attitude of someone heading to work.

  They finally stopped at a bank high-rise that was guarded by two soldiers. When the doors to the building opened the first thing Mike felt was the cool rush of air hitting his face as he walked through the entrance.

  “Oh my God,” Kalen said.

  All of the kids rushed to the large industrial fan sitting in the lobby, pushing each other out of the way, letting the air blow past their faces.

  Mike stared up at the ceiling bulbs illuminating the depths of the offices and down the winding hallways.

  “The power’s on for the entire building?” Mike asked.

  “We have everything functional in this building on the first floor except the A/C. We only have the capacity to run that at the hospital and living quarters. That’s why we have the industrial fans here,” the soldier answered.

  “The hospital is up and running? With doctors?” Nelson asked.

  “Yes.”

  Mike knew what everyone was thinking, because that’s where his mind went despite trying to block it out. The doctors here could have saved Jung’s wife.

  “The interviews will happen on a one-on-one basis. Every person will be evaluated and their value will be determined based on the interviewer’s assessment,” the sol
dier said.

  “Their value?” Nelson asked.

  “We have everyone keeping this place running based on their previous occupation. If you want to stay, you have to work. We don’t have the luxury to keep loafers,” the soldier explained.

  “And what happens to those people that aren’t useful?” Katie asked.