Dark Days

by Bradley, Arthur T. , Ph. D.

  She held up her hands. “Stop. You’re really starting to gross me out.”

  He shrugged. “I’m just saying, keep your options open. One day you might need a little pee to save the day. Today it was to fill a radiator. Tomorrow, who knows?”

  “You do realize we could have just used a bottle of water from my pack.”

  “Yeah, but what fun is that?” Tanner returned to the front of the truck. “Press the clutch, and see if it’ll turn over.”

  She nearly had to stand on the clutch to get it all the way to the floor. When she tried the key, a metallic click-click-click sounded.

  “Battery’s dead.”

  “Is there fuel?”

  She checked the gauge. “Nearly half a tank.”

  Tanner slammed the hood down and walked around to the back of the truck.

  “Put it in first, but keep the clutch in.”

  “Even you can’t push us the whole way,” she said with a smirk.

  “Don’t need to. Once I get it up to speed, pop the clutch. But wait until I say go.” He started pushing the truck. There was a slight tilt to the bridge, allowing it to roll easily enough. When he got up to a jog, he shouted, “Okay, let it out!”

  Samantha took her foot off the clutch, and the truck jerked violently. As it did, the engine roared to life. She quickly pressed the clutch and braked to a stop. The engine had a distinctive rattle from some kind of valve problem, but at least it was running.

  Tanner hurried around to the passenger side and hopped in, the truck visibly sinking under his weight. Knowing there was no point in arguing about her having to drive, Samantha steered the truck across the bridge.

  “I assume we’re going back to Sweetwater for the bombs.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You do realize that you’ll probably blow us both up.”

  “Possible, I suppose.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing. When the universe hands you a shiny present, it’s rude not to open it.”

  “And that’s what you think they are? Shiny presents?”

  He turned to her. “When you saw that truckload of bombs, what was your first thought?”

  “That I should keep you away from it.”

  “Because…”

  “Because you like to blow things up.”

  “And I do that because…”

  “Because you like to destroy things?”

  “Well, yes, but that’s not the reason.” He held up a finger as if making an important point. “I blow things up because big problems can only be solved by big solutions.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Didn’t we read that on a poster somewhere?”

  He turned to look out the window.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Mm-hmm. Sure you don’t.”

  Sweetwater was exactly as they had last seen it—basically a big hole in the ground. The tractor-trailer continued to balance precariously on the lip of the crater, its door hanging open, inviting any who dared to climb aboard.

  Tanner stepped from the pickup. “Wheel it around, and I’ll guide you in.”

  Samantha did a quick three-point turn so that the tailgate faced the tractor-trailer.

  “Nice and easy now… easy… easy…” He threw up a hand. “There!”

  She stopped hard, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He waved it away and turned to study the trailer with all the excitement of Christmas morning.

  Samantha shut off the truck and reluctantly trudged to his side.

  “How are we going to move them?”

  He gently swung open a heavy metal gate that blocked the back of the trailer.

  “I’m going to lift them out.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Why not? They can’t be that heavy. A couple hundred pounds maybe. I’ll grab them one at a time, and you can help guide them into the back of the truck.”

  “This is a bad idea,” she said, lowering the tailgate on the pickup. “Very bad.”

  “Quit worrying so much. It’s giving you wrinkles.”

  She touched a hand to her face, tracing the skin under her eyes.

  “Really?”

  He grinned and turned to study the setup. Each group of four GBU-39 bombs was stacked in a large rectangular rack secured by a sturdy padlock.

  “What about the locks?”

  He scoffed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She inched closer and gave one of the padlocks a little tug.

  “I don’t know… It feels pretty sturdy, and we don’t have any cutters.”

  “Don’t need cutters.” Tanner walked back to the pickup and looked around the bed. There wasn’t much to work with, a couple of empty beer cans, some wadded up garbage, a rusty steel bolt, a tow rope, and a half-empty gas can. He grabbed one of the beer cans and returned to Samantha.

  “You’re going to use an empty beer can to open a lock? This I gotta see.”

  “Stand back and prepare to be amazed.”

  Tanner used Samantha’s knife to carefully cut the can apart. When he was finished, he had two thin M-shaped strips of aluminum, each about three inches by two inches. He folded up the legs, leaving the bottom of the M poking down like a small finger. He finished by shaping the thin metal strip around his pinky.

  “Here,” he said, handing her the first one while he began shaping the second.

  She turned the small strip of aluminum over in her hand.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a shim.”

  “What’s a shim?”

  “You’ll see.” Tanner cupped the lock and pressed one of the shims into the thin gap surrounding the toe side of the shackle. “Once we get it into the lock, we give it a slight twist.” He pinched the exposed portion of the shim and carefully shifted it around so that the aluminum finger pressed between the locking bar and the shackle cutout.

  “And this one’s for the other side?” she said, holding out the second shim.

  “That’s right.” He repeated the same process on the shackle heel. When he had both in place, he tugged on the shackle, and the lock pulled open.

  “No way!” Samantha reached out and felt of the lock, clearly uncertain if what she had just witnessed was real or one of his clever pranks.

  “When someone fortifies the front, you go in the back. Nothing can be strong from every direction.” He flipped open the latch and lifted off a detachable frame that secured the first stack of four bombs.

  “Be careful,” she said with a pained face.

  He reached in and gently slid one of the GBU-39s toward him.

  “Can you lift it?”

  “We’re about to find out.” He looked toward the pickup. “You might want to wait over there.”

  “Right.” Samantha scampered over to the truck. “Should I climb in and get ready to drive away? You know, in case you slip and fall down the hill?”

  Tanner cocked an eyebrow. “You’re going to leave me?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not like I could stop you.”

  “By all means then.” Tanner leaned in and got a good grip on the bomb. It was six feet long but only as big around as a salad plate. “Here goes.”

  He gingerly lifted the bomb until it cleared the rack. The tractor-trailer creaked as it tilted closer to the crater. The movement was alarming, but not enough to cause him to lower the GBU-39 back in place.

  Turning ever so slowly, he faced the pickup truck and guided the copper-colored tip onto the open tailgate. When its weight came to rest on the truck, he gently slid the bomb closer to the cab.

  “That’s one.”

  “One? How many do you plan to take?”

  Tanner spread his fingers out to estimate the spacing in the truck bed.

  “I figure we can fit four without any trouble at all. Twice that if we’re willing to stack them.”

  “You really think you can get eight bombs off that trailer without it falling into the hole?”

  He p
ursed his lips, thinking. “All right, four it is. I don’t want you to accuse me of being greedy.”

  “Greedy is not the word I had in mind,” she muttered, as he returned to grab the second bomb.

  To their surprise, it came off without even the slightest movement of the trailer.

  As he set it into the truck bed, he said, “See? No problem.”

  She squinted. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you just jinxed us.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. People don’t get jinxed by saying things.”

  “Obviously, you don’t understand how jinxes work.”

  Tanner grabbed the third bomb and carefully lifted it free of the trailer. This time, the truck shifted, its wheels sliding a few inches closer to the edge, but once again, it stopped and settled into the dirt. He carried the bomb over to the pickup and gently laid it next to the other two.

  As he straightened up, a loud groan sounded from behind him. They wheeled around to find the trailer of bombs slowly sliding across the dirt toward the pit. Tanner reached out and grabbed the railing, but he couldn’t plant his feet well enough to stop its movement.

  He looked back at Samantha, only to find her staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

  “Go!” he shouted, releasing the trailer and quickly closing the tailgate of the pickup.

  Samantha had the truck in gear and was already rolling by the time he threw himself into the cab. She floored the gas, grinding the gears as she dropped the shifter into second.

  “I told you this was a bad idea!”

  Tanner was too busy watching the trailer to even hear her chiding. The big truck had started a slow, steady slide toward the pit. If it tumbled, he could only assume that the bombs would do what they were designed to do—blow everything to hell and back.

  He turned around and studied the buildings up ahead. There wasn’t much to hide behind—a new car lot, an eyeglasses booth, a farming supply store. All of the structures were in various states of collapse from previous explosions, and none looked like they would withstand another blast. The only solution to their problem was distance.

  “Go, Sam! Fast as you can! Go!”

  It wasn’t like Tanner to panic, and the worry in his voice caused her heart to pound. She revved the engine, shifting into third and then fourth as they bumped their way down the broken highway.

  “Is it still falling?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  Tanner glanced back and saw the rear of the truck slide off the edge. He couldn’t say how much longer it would be until the whole thing went over, but it was definitely going to happen.

  “Is it?” she cried.

  Tanner heard the fear in her voice. This was his fault in a hundred different ways, and it pained him to see her in such a state. In that moment, he knew what he had to do.

  Reaching over, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s going to be okay, Sam.”

  She risked a glance over at him.

  “What?”

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s not going to fall?”

  “It’s going to fall, all right. And it’ll probably make one hell of a racket. But we’re going to be okay.”

  She steered the truck around a sharp curve in the road, and the bombs in the back rolled to one side with a heavy clang.

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because we’re together. And like you always say, that’s the only thing that really matters.”

  She met his eyes and saw that there wasn’t a drop of worry in them, only warmth and love. It helped more than she thought it would.

  “We’re going to be okay? You’re sure?”

  He nodded. “I’m sure.”

  Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let herself cry.

  “We’re together, right?”

  “We’re together.”

  Samantha reached over and rolled down her window. Tanner did the same. The air rushed into the small cab, so loud that neither of them could hear anything but the roar of the wind.

  “Woo-hoo!” she shouted. It was a wild yell, fear and panic set loose to fly with the wind.

  Tanner took one last look back and saw the front of the truck disappear over the edge. He leaned close and squeezed her shoulder.

  “Get ready.”

  The air thundered, and the earth shook. A wave of incredible energy hit the back of the truck, shattering the window and lifting the rear end a foot off the ground. Through it all, Samantha held fast to the steering wheel.

  When the wheels landed back on the ground, the truck skidded left and then right, and then back into the center of the two-lane highway. She kept moving as chunks of rock and pieces of dismembered cars crashed down around them.

  An enormous cloud of dust and dirt engulfed them like a desert haboob, and Samantha coughed and waved it from her face as she brought the pickup to a gentle stop. They sat in dazed silence as the world slowly settled around them. The windshield was cracked and the truck was coated in a thick layer of dirt.

  Samantha reached down and turned on the wipers, smudging the grime to one side and then the other, until she could finally see the road ahead. She turned to Tanner with an astonished look in her eyes.

  “Are we good?”

  Tanner let out a breath. “Yeah, darlin’, we’re good.”

  Samantha stared out at the Watts Bar Dam stretching before them.

  “How are we going to get these bombs into the nuclear plant without being seen?”

  “We’re not.”

  “What are you talking about? I thought we were going to use them to blow up Hardin and his men.”

  “Not directly, no.”

  “What then?”

  Tanner nodded toward the dam.

  Her eyes widened. “We’re going to blow up the dam?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But the water… it’ll flood everything.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re going to flood the nuclear plant.” It was more of an “aha” statement than a question.

  “Trust me, when we’re finished, it’s going to look like a lake.”

  “And the nuclear rods… they’ll be safe underwater?”

  “I can’t see why they wouldn’t be.”

  “But what about the fish?”

  “What fish?”

  She pointed toward the water. “The ones in the river.”

  He shrugged. “Might end up with a few mutant catfish, but that’s a problem for another day.”

  “How do you plan to set them off?”

  He pointed ahead. “Take us out over the dam, and I’ll show you.”

  Samantha reluctantly put the truck in gear and drove out onto the bridge. When they were halfway across, the pickup abruptly jerked to a stop, liquid pouring from the engine compartment.

  “I think we killed it.”

  He nodded. “If only we could all go out with such glory.”

  “Huh?”

  Tanner grabbed the X95 from the floorboard and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Doesn’t matter. Come on. Let’s get this done.”

  As they climbed out, Samantha started to say something but stopped herself.

  “What is it?” he said.

  “I was going to say that I hope you know what you’re doing. But we both know you don’t.”

  He grinned. “I’m one of those guys who figures things out as I go along.”

  “That’s a nice way of saying you fumble around until you get things to work.”

  “One man’s plan is another man’s folly.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “I’m pretty sure that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “No, but it sounded good.”

  Tanner reached into the truck bed and lifted out the tow rope and gas can. There was still about half a gallon of fuel left inside. It had turned a little gummy, but that would
n’t matter for what he had in mind.

  “You’re going to set the bombs on fire.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Will that even work?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think so?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’re going to use the rope as a fuse.”

  He loosely coiled the rope and slipped it over his shoulder.

  “Interesting idea, but no. Just thought it might come in handy down the road.” He nodded toward the far side of the bridge. “Why don’t you go on across? Once you’re clear, I’ll start the fire and head your way.”

  She slipped her backpack across both shoulders and grabbed her rifle.

  “All right, but you might want to run a little faster this time.”

  He smiled. “Count on it.”

  Samantha turned and jogged across the bridge. When she got to the other side, she waved both arms in the air.

  Tanner leaned through the truck’s window and pressed the cigarette lighter. While he waited for it to heat up, he emptied the contents of the gas can onto the seats and floorboard. Next, he gathered some of the garbage from the back and rolled it into a miniature torch. When the cigarette lighter popped out, he held it to the paper and nursed the fire to life.

  It was time.

  He tossed the torch through the window and took off running across the bridge. By the time he reached Samantha, the cab was fully engulfed, flames licking out over the top. The fuel tank went a few seconds later, a soft whoosh as flames found their way in.

  Tanner and Samantha stood for another ten minutes, watching the truck burn. Tires melted and paint blistered, but the bombs didn’t go off.

  “It didn’t work,” she said.

  “Wait for it.”

  They waited another two long minutes. Nothing. The flames were dying down, and a thick cloud of black smoke now reached high into the sky.

  Samantha said, “How long are we going to—”

  Three explosions sounded, each a split second apart. Even standing eight hundred feet away, the shock wave knocked them to the ground. They sat in stunned silence, watching as thick cracks migrated their way down the wall of the dam. The water pressure did the rest. Concrete crumbled away in huge blocky chunks, and a torrent of water blasted through. By the time the flow stabilized, a two-hundred-foot section of the dam had collapsed, and millions of gallons of water poured through with a deafening roar.