Trackers: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Hold your questions and stay calm,” Jake said in his authoritative voice. He rolled up his sleeves like he was preparing for a fistfight, revealing several tattoos—his way of telling everyone to shut the hell up. His size, his ink, and his booming voice had earned him the nickname “The Viking,” but most people were too scared of Jake to say it to his face.

  Officers Tom Matthew and Rick Nelson filed into the room. Both men were young, and Rick had a newborn at home. Colton had seen their frightened looks before on the faces of green soldiers in Afghanistan. He’d never thought he would see that kind of fear back at home. He nodded and gestured for them both to take a seat next to Margaret, the station’s administrative assistant and dispatcher.

  Next up was getting the battery-powered Geiger counters out to make sure they weren’t about to all die of radiation poisoning. Once he figured out what they were dealing with, he would be better able to plan a response. After that he could handle the rest of his unpleasant to-do list, like contacting Rex and his wife to tell them their daughter was dead. Finally, he needed to get home to his own family and start making preparations. His wife and daughter were probably worried sick.

  “Has anyone been able to get ahold of Mayor Andrews?” Colton asked.

  “You don’t really want her here right now, do you, sir?” Detective Lindsey Plymouth answered from across the table. Colton had recruited the feisty redhead from Denver as the newest member of his team, but sometimes he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

  Colton acted like he hadn’t heard Lindsey, but she was right. Mayor Gail Andrews was a micromanager, and she was constantly getting involved with police business. He scratched at the space between his upper lip and nose and then exhaled.

  “All right, everyone, listen up. It’s going to be a very long night. Here’s the situation. Raven Spears and I found Melissa Stone about two hours ago on Ypsilon. She…she didn’t make it. While we were up there, a pair of F-16s fell from the sky after a nuclear weapon was detonated at fifty two thousand feet.”

  The gathered officers gasped, and Lindsey shouted “Bullshit!” Colton couldn’t give them a chance to digest the information. He continued before anyone could ask questions.

  “Major Nathan Sardetti was able to eject from his F-16 before it crashed,” Colton explained. “He’s trying to get our radio to work and contact his base. The EMP knocked out every electronic in the city.”

  Detective Tim Ryburn ran a hand through his hair. “A nuke? Are you sure?”

  “I bet that’s what my wife and I heard at our ranch,” Matthew said. “Sounded like a massive explosion, but we just thought it was the storm.”

  Lindsey was still shaking her head. “You’re absolutely sure, Chief?”

  “Hold your questions until I’m done.”

  She settled back into her seat and folded her arms.

  “Most of you were here for the 2013 floods,” Colton continued. “We were cut off then, and it looks like we’re cut off now. But this is different. We may be at risk from fallout, and there’s a murderer on the loose.”

  He scanned his officers. Several of the men and women in this room were rookies. Most of them had come here to avoid major crime in cities like Denver or Chicago. Estes Park was a quaint tourist town; the last murder had been years ago. But these were all good officers and he had to trust them.

  “I’ve put Jake in charge of the EOC, but things are going to work differently than last time. For one, we probably aren’t going to have access to the Red Cross, National Guard, or other agencies. I’m hoping we can make contact with Sheriff Gerrard at the Larimer County Office, but he’s going to have his hands full.”

  The officers began muttering anxiously again, and Jake stepped in to settle them down. “We’re lucky this happened off season. There are probably only around ten thousand people in town tonight, if you include all of the tourists.”

  Colton nodded. “Jake, I want you two to work with Lindsey and Margaret on an inventory of every resource in town. From food and water to vehicles that still work. If it could possibly be useful, I want it on the list.”

  “Roger that, sir, I’ll start first thing in the morning.”

  Colton shook his head. “Not in the morning. Right after this meeting.”

  “Do we have a single working vehicle?” Lindsey asked.

  No one replied. Colton thought of Raven’s Jeep and cursed himself for letting him take it to Loveland. He should have commandeered it when he had the chance.

  “How about that guy on Moraine Avenue with the old Volkswagens for sale?” Ryburn asked. “I bet those will work. Maybe our H1 will start, too.”

  “Someone check it out after this,” Colton said.

  “I haven’t started up my 1952 Chevy pickup in a while,” Jake said. “I’ll try it when I get home.”

  “Sounds good. Can someone check on Major Sardetti’s progress with the radio?” Colton asked.

  “I’ll go,” Margaret said.

  “What about refugees?” Jake asked. “If there’s fallout, then people are going to start leaving the cities. I’d be willing to bet some of them will make their way up here.”

  Colton shared a meaningful look with Jake. They had served together overseas on two tours. Their first time out, they’d been National Guardsmen stationed in Kabul, Afghanistan. The United States and her allies had softened up the city with bombing raids. When ground troops had finally infiltrated the capital, it had been in complete chaos. That was just one of multiple examples he could think of, from Syria to Lebanon to the Gaza Strip. When basic services like power were cut off, the refugees fled.

  “We’re going to have to set up shelters,” Colton said. “What about the Stanley?”

  “I’ll talk to Jim,” Matthew said.

  Colton and the manager of the iconic hotel had been friends for a long time. The place had become famous after Dumb and Dumber and The Shining miniseries had been filmed there, and the old buildings were large enough to house thousands. It was a start.

  “Refugees and stranded tourists aren’t our only concern,” Colton said. “Once people figure out what’s going on, they are going to raid every supermarket, pharmacy, and hardware store.”

  “Most of the perishable stuff is gonna be spoiled in a day,” Ryburn said. “Might as well eat it now.”

  Colton stood up straighter and, using his most commanding voice, said, “The first thing I’m officially doing as Chief of Police is declaring a state of emergency. I want an officer stationed at every building we deem a critical facility, starting with food, water, and medicine.”

  The order drew a few uncertain gazes, but he continued with his speech. “We are in a unique situation, folks. We have a constant water supply from the mountains, and we have a decent stock of food, but if that nuke knocked out power in several states, then we can’t expect help anytime soon.”

  Several voices broke out around the table.

  “What do you mean? Do you think there was more than one nuke?” Lindsey asked.

  “Could there be more attacks?” asked Matthew.

  “Chief, my wife and I have a baby at home,” Nelson said. “If there’s a killer on the loose, then…”

  Colton sighed. “Everyone, please calm down.”

  The questions kept coming until Jake finally pounded on the table. “Chief Colton said to calm down!” he boomed.

  The room quieted like the President of the United States had suddenly walked in.

  Rustling came from the hallway, and then the door opened. Don, his uniform drenched, stepped into the room holding a large plastic crate. He placed it on the table. Panting, he announced, “I found them!”

  Lindsey scooted over to make room. “What are those for?”

  “They detect radiation,” Colton said. He pulled out one of the Geiger counters and held up the probe. It had been years since he’d used one, and it took him a second to re-familiarize himself with the control panel. He found the audio switch. A clicking sound came from the d
evice as he walked into the hallway and out of the building.

  His staff followed him outside. Several flashlights flicked on, spreading beams over the parking lot. It was eerily quiet, and a soft drizzle fell from the sky. Jake and Don flanked Colton as he stepped out into the street. Holding up the probe to the sky, Colton watched the needle. The machine hissed static as he waved the probe back and forth.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Jake said.

  Don leaned closer. “What’s the reading?”

  After making another pass, Colton checked the screen again and turned back to his staff.

  “Looks like about .04 millrads per hour right now, which is normal. But the fallout might not have hit us yet. It could take a day or more depending on the winds.”

  The front doors swung open and Nathan limped out. He eyed the Geiger counter and raised an eyebrow.

  “Any luck?” Colton asked.

  “Negative. Everything digital is fried. What I really need is analog. Doesn’t anybody have a ham radio in this town? That’s my best shot of contacting Buckley AFB.”

  “Bill Catcher is a ham radio operator,” Jake said. “He also used to be a technician for the power company, way back in the day.”

  “And he’s a spook,” Lindsey said. “The guy signs his signature in blood.”

  “Yeah, he’s not a big fan of the government and won’t help us willingly if we ask for assistance,” Jake said.

  Colton lowered the probe and shut off the Geiger counter. “Don’t phrase it as a question then. Jake, once you get the EOC set up, why don’t you go pay Bill a visit? We’re going to need his help whether he likes it or not.”

  “On it, Chief.”

  “I’ll ride along,” Nathan said. “If that’s okay with you?”

  Colton nodded at the pilot. “Whatever you need, Major. The rest of you head back inside for your assignments.”

  He lingered outside, gazing up at the moon hanging low over the mountains. It looked peaceful enough, but Colton had a bad feeling about all of this. He turned the Geiger counter back on and held up the probe toward the sky, hoping to God that something worse wasn’t heading their way.

  Rocky bluffs arced over Highway 34, blocking out much of the moonlight. If it weren’t for the Jeep’s headlights, Raven wouldn’t have been able to see ten feet in front of him. He kept an eye out for stranded tourists or worse, a wandering elk. Hitting one of the beasts would be the end of his Jeep—and likely his and Sandra’s lives.

  His sister was staring blankly out the passenger window. “I still can’t believe Melissa is gone. Could her killer really be the same person that was talking to Allie outside my house a few weeks ago? And what about that weird note I got? Could it be connected?”

  “I don’t know. According to Colton, the suspect was driving a blue F-150 pickup. That’s the same type of truck you saw outside your house, right?”

  “Yes,” Sandra said. She looked away from the window, her face drawn and haggard. “How could any of this happen?”

  Creek let out a low whine and then tucked his head back under her arm. She scratched him behind the ears, and the dog settled.

  “What did that note say again?” he asked.

  “The storm is coming. What is that even supposed to mean?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think it’s connected to what happened to Melissa. One of your crazy neighbors or a lovesick patient you turned down for a date probably wrote it.” He twisted the steering wheel to avoid a minivan stalled partway in his lane. The headlights captured a man putting gas into the van with a red canister. He looked toward the Jeep, shielding his eyes with one hand.

  Raven glanced at the fuel gauge; the Jeep was down to less than half a tank. It would get him to Loveland, but not all the way home.

  “My heart hurts, Raven. I’m truly scared right now.”

  “It’s okay, Sis. We’ll get Allie, and I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” He pulled the cigarette from his hat and placed it between his lips, trying to hide his anxiety. Sandra hated it when he smoked around her and flat-out refused to let him light up around Allie, but he was having a hard time focusing without it.

  It was already ten p.m. and it would take another forty-five minutes to get to Loveland, maybe more. He was driving slower than normal on the winding roads. That would put him back in Estes Park around one, as long as everything went smoothly.

  “Think Mark is going to let her go willingly?” Raven asked.

  Sandra’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t reply immediately.

  “It’s okay,” Raven repeated.

  The moon cast an eerie blue light over the tips of the trees. It was normally a beautiful drive, with rocky cliffs framing the highway on both sides with forests of ponderosas and aspens climbing up the inclines. The Big Thompson River rushed alongside the road.

  Most of the houses out here belonged to preppers and survivalists that wanted to live away from civilization. There were a few million-dollar houses nestled between the shacks powered by solar panels and geothermal energy, but most of the resorts and vacation cabins were clustered on the other side of Estes Park.

  The tires thumped over the road as they approached a bridge. The Big Thompson River roared in the distance.

  “Bad spirits,” Sandra muttered.

  Raven took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her. “What?”

  “The bad spirits have finally come to reclaim the Middle World. The storms, Melissa, now this attack.”

  Raven chuckled, but then he saw the serious look on his sister’s face. She wasn’t kidding.

  “Remember what Grandma and Grandpa used to say about the way we treat the earth? They used to talk about the myths from The Origin of Disease and Medicine. Remember?”

  Raven recalled the stories. The Cherokee viewed the world as having three parts: the Middle World, where plants, animals, and humans lived; the Upper World, where the protective spirits lived; and the Under World, where the bad spirits dwelled.

  “Yes,” Raven said. “I actually told Colton something similar when we found Melissa. The signs of the apocalypse have been here for a while, but—”

  “But nothing. Maybe nature is finally reclaiming what we have destroyed. Maybe the animals and plants have had enough.”

  “Those are just stories.”

  Sandra shook her head at him like she used to when they were kids after Raven had said something stupid.

  “No, big brother. They aren’t. Remember the Water Cannibals?”

  Raven sucked on the cigarette hanging from his lips. God, he wanted to light it and take a drag.

  “I know you remember,” Sandra said. “You used to crawl into my bed when we were little because you were so scared.”

  He tried to laugh. “Never happened.”

  Raven had been terrified of those creatures when he was younger, but tonight his fear had become real. He could still smell the little girl’s charred flesh lingering in the back of his Jeep. Sandra didn’t need to know that particular detail. It had to just be a coincidence. There was no chance that the man who killed Melissa would have known the Cherokee story. He shook the thought away and looked at Creek.

  “What do you think?”

  Creek glanced up and growled.

  “There you have it,” Raven said. “Creek agrees with me. Just stories, Sis. Water Cannibals aren’t real.”

  Sandra turned away, stroking the barrel of the rifle with a finger as she stared out the window. They were silent for the next ten minutes. Raven was okay with that. He needed the silence right now.

  Every time he saw a stranded vehicle, he put his foot on the brakes, but he didn’t stop. Not even for the family walking on the side of the road. A man and his wife were holding the hands of their two kids as they made their way toward Loveland, guided only by a tiny flashlight.

  “Maybe we should help them,” Sandra said.

  “We can’t. We need to get to Allie.” Raven hated to agree with Major Sardetti ab
out anything, but he was right about one thing. Once people figured out what was going on, his Jeep would be a prime target. They had to pick up his niece and get to safety before the shit hit the fan.

  A few minutes later the beams fell on the jagged bluffs of Big Thompson Canyon. Here the road twisted out of the mountains and into the foothills. They passed several ranches and small shops selling jam and pies. The dense woods thinned and the pines were replaced by shrubs and bushes in the arid landscape.

  They were almost to Loveland.

  Raven had kept his foot on the gas as they climbed a steep incline, but he eased off the gas when he saw the crimson glow of a fire rise over the foothills. Sandra saw it at the same time. She leaned forward in her seat.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “Looks like a pretty big fire to me.”

  Raven gently pressed down on the gas. They drove for several minutes in silence, both of them looking out the windows for a better view around the twists and turns of the road.

  The fiery glow was coming from the east, not too far from Loveland. Tendrils arched away from a fire, licking the sky. The smoke drifted into his open window. He rolled it up almost all the way and wedged his cigarette back under the side of his baseball cap.

  “That looks really close to the city,” Sandra said.

  “Don’t worry, it’s on the outskirts. Far from where Mark lives.”

  As they approached it, the fire increased in size until it was a massive, flaming ball.

  “I bet it was a plane,” he said, taking his eyes off the road to look at Sandra. “The EMP would have knocked them out of the sky. Anything with modern electronics like that…”

  “Watch out!” Sandra screamed.

  Raven swerved just in time to avoid a motorcycle abandoned in the middle of the lane. The tires squealed as he fought for control. He almost overcorrected, but training from his days driving a Humvee in Iraq kicked in.

  “I’m sorry,” Raven said, body numb from a shot of adrenaline. “I didn’t see it.” He checked his sister with a glance. She was gripping her chest as if she was suffering a heart attack. As soon as Raven looked back to the road, he could see why.