“Ma’am, my name is Marcus Colton, and I’m the chief of police. Can you tell me your name?”
“Doc—” She gave up and wheezed before she could get any more out.
Colton shook her gently. Maybe having her talk was a bad idea.
“Stay with me,” he repeated. The medical center was just around the corner, and he would be damned if she died in his arms before they got her there.
She choked again and coughed up a mixture of blood and saliva that ran in a sheet down her chin. She choked, wheezed, and struggled for air. Her eyelids fluttered and then closed. A moment later she went limp in his grip.
“Ma’am,” Colton said. He waited for her next breath, but it never came.
“Don, hurry up!”
Don’s eyes flitted up in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t reply.
Colton took off his helmet and leaned down, preparing to give her CPR.
“Chief, you could get contaminated!” Don protested.
Colton ignored him and pumped her chest, then breathed into her mouth.
No response.
“Come on,” he said. He pushed harder, gave her air, and continued the process.
The vehicle jolted to a stop outside of the medical center.
“Go get help!” Colton said between breaths.
On the next compression, he pushed so hard he heard a pop. When he went down for another breath, her eyelids snapped open and she drew in a gasp.
Colton moved back to give her some space. Her eyes widened at him and she squirmed away. The movement set off another coughing fit.
“It’s okay, ma’am. Don’t try to move,” he said. “You’re okay.”
Despite his assurances, she still reared back in fear. She held up an arm to shield her face.
“Ma’am, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Stay back,” she said. “Get away from me!”
Colton held up his hands and scooted off the seat. He opened the door and moved out onto the pavement. Doctor Duffy was already rushing outside with a nurse named Julie. Don followed them outside.
“Make sure you’re careful with her. She’s been exposed to radiation,” Don called after them. He took his helmet off and set it on the concrete.
Colton couldn’t believe it when he saw Don shove tobacco into his mouth. If he was so scared of contamination, why would he…
“Stay away,” the woman said. Inside the Jeep, she was breathing heavily with her back to the opposite door. She tried to open it, but the door was locked.
“Calm down, ma’am,” Colton said. He moved out of the way for the medical team.
“I’m a doctor and I’m going to help you, okay?” Duffy said, seemingly undeterred by the threat of contamination.
The woman slowly lowered her hands, but her eyes continued roving from face to face, stopping on Colton. She glared at him like he was the devil in the flesh. As the adrenaline faded from her body, she slowly began to relax, her eyelids drooping. Julie and Duffy reached into the Jeep and helped move her onto a stretcher. Don joined Colton near the sidewalk while they moved her.
“You brought her back, Chief. Pretty impressive, but I don’t see how delaying the inevitable is a good strategy moving forward,” Don said. He spat a glob of tobacco onto the sidewalk.
Colton pivoted to face Don and poked him hard in the chest. “If you ever pull that shit again, we’re going to have major problems. I’m the chief of police. Don’t you forget that.”
***
Sandra Spears was still rattled to her core from the events on Prospect Mountain. The return of Brown Feather and his brother, Turtle, had reopened wounds that had never quite healed. She thought that being cut off from the rest of the world in Estes Park would protect her from men like Brown Feather and her ex-husband, Mark, but not even the end of the world had kept her family safe.
It seemed like nowhere was safe anymore.
The people who had cracked Officer Nelson’s head were on the loose while he crashed on the table in the emergency room. The swelling in his brain was getting worse, and without the help of life support equipment, it was almost impossible to stabilize him.
“Sandra!” Newton shouted. “Get in here. We’re losing him.”
She slipped on her gloves and pulled up her facemask. Despite everything that had happened, and as much as Sandra wanted to crawl into her bed and cuddle Allie, she was needed at the medical center.
“Heart rate is increasing,” Doctor Newton said. “We’re at one hundred and thirty.”
“Blood pressure is seventy-six over fifty,” Jen, one of the other nurses, said.
Newton bent down to examine the tube that was draining fluid from one of the burr holes he’d drilled into the patient’s head.
“It’s not draining at all now.” Newton looked over his shoulder. “Where the hell is Duffy? We’re going to have to drill another hole.”
“I think he’s with Teddy,” Sandra said.
“I thought Jen was in charge of Teddy,” Newton snapped.
Jen shook her head. “Doctor Duffy rushed outside to help a gunshot victim and told me to come in here.”
“We don’t just leave our patients, dammit!” Newton shouted.
Jen gave Sandra a meaningful, exhausted look. They were all tired, but Newton had been here for days. He was starting to lose his cool.
Rick’s raspy breathing pulled them back to the table. All three of them moved into position as his muscles started to spasm.
“Sandra, grab his legs, Jen, you take his arms,” Newton ordered.
Sandra was careful not to hold Rick down too hard at first, but he continued convulsing and jerking violently, forcing her to hold him tighter. Blood-tinged fluid dripped from his ears. His eyes rolled up into his head a moment later. Sandra could feel the life slipping away from the officer.
“Jesus,” Newton said. He checked the dressings over the man’s matted hair. Blood was running freely from the bandages, and his breathing was shallow.
“Someone get me a BVM,” Newton said.
Sandra reached for the bag-valve mask with her left hand and continued holding Rick’s legs with her right. A kick knocked her grip away. She grabbed the BVM, handed it to Newton, and then grabbed both of Rick’s legs. He kicked and jerked harder in her grip.
Newton placed the mask over Rick’s face and started pumping air into his lungs. The officer kicked so hard it sent Sandra stumbling backward.
“Sandra!” Newton snapped. “Do your job!”
She rushed back to her position as Rick’s eyes suddenly popped open. Newton slowly pulled the BVM away, and Rick took in a long, deep gasp of air. Dazed, but seemingly aware, he looked at Newton and then at Sandra.
Blood seeped from the holes in his head, running down his forehead like red tears. His lips moved, but no words came from his mouth.
“Officer Nelson, can you hear me?” Newton said.
Rick closed his eyes, and his body seemed to relax on the table. Sandra reached out for his wrist.
“Doctor Newton, I’m… I’m not feeling a pulse.”
Newton pressed his stethoscope to Rick’s chest, but after a moment of listening, Newton shook his head.
An eerie silence passed over the room. Without the usual chirp of medical equipment, the lack of noise was beyond unsettling.
Sandra put her hands on Rick’s chest. She looked to Jen and Newton, and shouted, “Somebody help me!”
Jen grabbed the BVM mask and gave Rick air while Sandra pushed down on his chest. They fell into a steady rhythm to resuscitate him.
“Come on,” Sandra said. “Come on.”
Rick’s eyelids remained closed, but they twitched with every push on his chest. Newton stood watching with a solemn look. He might have given up, but Sandra was not going to let him die without a fight. He had a wife and baby girl at home, and Sandra knew all about being a single mom. That child needed her father.
Newton finally moved back to the table and checked Rick’s pupils whi
le Sandra and Jen continued CPR.
“His pupils are fixed and dilated,” Newton reported. “It’s over.”
Despite the signs of what likely was a brain herniation, Sandra continued pushing, over and over. A minute passed. Then two. Her hands were numb, but she kept pumping in hopes of restarting his heart. Jen continued to help, but she was watching Sandra like she was crazy.
“Sandra,” said a voice.
She felt a hand on her shoulder but shook it away.
“Sandra,” Newton said again, louder and firmer. “He’s gone, Sandra. We can’t do anything for him, I’m sorry.”
Jen pulled the mask off Rick’s face, but Sandra made one final push on his chest. Bloody fluid continued to ooze from Rick’s ears and the burr holes.
She finally let out a sigh of defeat. Tears blurred her vision. One plummeted onto the table, mixing with blood.
— 3 —
Charlize Montgomery raised her binoculars at the coastline from the bridge of the USS John Stennis aircraft carrier. Dressed in a loose-fitting Air Force sweatshirt and sweatpants, she felt more like a college student preparing for an all-night study session than the new Secretary of Defense. Albert Randall, her longtime bodyguard, stood next to her. He still hadn’t changed out of his charred and filthy Air Jordans.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asked when she stumbled slightly.
“I’m fine.” She pressed the binoculars to her eyes. They had finally reached Florida, but the sight of the Sunshine State didn’t cheer her up. Her mind was halfway across the country with the unit of Marines searching for her son. They still hadn’t radioed in with any information, and she was growing impatient.
I should have gone myself.
Covered in sores from her extensive burns, Charlize knew she wasn’t in any shape to travel. She had only just begun recovering. The doctors had her on a strong dose of antibiotics, and they were hopeful that they’d be able to counter the effects of the radiation she’d been exposed to. But the burns would take time to heal, and required constant attention.
Albert reached out to help steady her as she wobbled again.
“Did you take your pain meds?” he asked.
“Yes,” she lied. The pain continued to make even minor tasks difficult, but the alternative was worse. The pills made her so tired she could hardly function. She was the Secretary of Defense now, but she was spending more time in the hospital than the command room.
“Ma’am, I really think you should…” Albert began to say.
She turned toward him, frowning. A sharp reply was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back. Clint, her chief of staff, had died not long after the chopper had airlifted them from the ruins of Washington, D.C. With her son missing and her brother stuck in some godforsaken town in Colorado, Albert was her only real friend here.
“I want to say goodbye to Clint before the ceremony tonight,” she said. “Will you see if you can arrange that?”
Albert hesitated.
“I’m fine, really,” she said.
“Okay, ma’am.” Albert turned to leave, but he shot a concerned look over his shoulder before ducking through the open hatch.
All around her, sailors were working at their stations. She felt like she ought to be doing something, too. Waiting to hear about Ty was torture. There was nothing worse than being helpless to protect your child, and this was the second time she had failed him.
Get it together, Charlize. You can’t lose it now.
She pressed the binoculars back to her eyes, trying to focus. The aircraft carrier was two miles east of Palm Beach. Cars were zipping down the road as if nothing had happened. The coordinated EMP attack that had knocked out electronics in most of the continental United States hadn’t reached southern Florida. After the devastation she’d witnessed at the nation’s capital, Charlize had never expected to see a thriving American city again.
“Sight for sore eyes, isn’t it, Madame Secretary?”
Charlize lowered her binoculars to find Lieutenant Janet Marco standing next to her. The XO jerked her long chin toward the porthole windows.
“Seeing civilization, I mean,” Marco said.
“Funny, I was just thinking that.”
Marco folded her arms across her uniform. “Someone waking up from a coma in Palm Beach might not even know the rest of the country was under attack. There’s still power, police officers, and working vehicles. A hundred miles north, it’s complete chaos.”
“So I’ve heard,” Charlize said with a sigh. “How about an update on the North Korean sub?”
The Lieutenant hesitated and then said, “We think there are two out there, but they’re very hard to detect. They must be relying on battery power and are managing to come to snorkel depth where we’re not looking for them. We lost several of our satellites during the attack, so that leaves us with airborne radar. Except we’re also low on aircraft. What wasn’t fried by the EMP is being used for evacuations and supply drops on the mainland.”
“Our priority is finding those subs and stopping another attack,” Charlize said. “We need to reallocate our aircraft and create multiple Helicopter Maritime Strike squadrons. Get someone on the horn who can make that happen. Those North Korean subs can’t evade detection forever.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Marco said with a grin. She turned to leave, but Charlize grabbed her arm.
“Wait. I’ve spent too much time recovering from my injuries and not enough being briefed. I want a better picture of what’s happening in Florida.”
“Absolutely,” Marco said, gesturing for Charlize to follow. She led them to a station with dual monitors. Several officers stepped away as Marco spread a map of Florida across the surface.
“The cutoff line is here,” she said, drawing a line south of Orlando. “The grid is down everywhere north of that line. We’ve deployed resources to all major highways and are concentrating on holding back refugees here and here.”
Marco pointed at Highways 95 and 4 south of Orlando. “We’re hearing some pretty ugly reports. There have already been thousands of deaths on the highways.”
Charlize picked at her bandaged hand while she listened. The country was under martial law, and although President Diego was ultimately in charge, he had tasked Charlize with directing the men and women out there trying to keep law and order. So far, she felt like she hadn’t been able to do anything to help.
She studied the map and said, “When I was deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan, I saw a lot of things from the sky—crumbling infrastructure, highways clogged with refugees, and despicable violence. But I never thought I would see it back home. I don’t see how we can come back from this.”
Marco narrowed her eyes slightly like she was trying to figure out if Charlize was being serious.
“This is the United States of America, ma’am. Not Iraq or Afghanistan. We will recover, just like we have from every other attack since the founding of our great nation,” Marco said.
“You’re right,” Charlize said, feeling a little embarrassed. She shouldn’t have expressed her doubts. “We will come back from this stronger than before.”
A smile beamed across Marco’s face. “Yes, indeed, ma’am. I’ll go make that call about those HSM squadrons.”
Charlize nodded and moved away from the maps. She walked with a renewed sense of energy and a thirst for answers. She reached up out of habit to tuck her hair behind her ear before remembering that it had been cropped to almost masculine shortness. Instead, she straightened her sweatshirt and walked over to the man in charge of the ship.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” Charlize said.
It took Captain Dietz a second to turn from the view, but when he did, he offered a half smile. “Secretary Montgomery, how are you feeling today?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Have you heard anything about my son?”
“No, not yet, but rest assured, I sent our best team to find him. Lieutenant Jeff Dupree is spearheading the mission. Man’s a hero. If any
one can find him, it’s Dupree.”
The name meant nothing to Charlize. She huffed in frustration. “That fire team was deployed yesterday, right? When can I expect a SITREP?”
Dietz paused, his wind-weathered forehead creasing in deep thought. “My family is out there, too. In the radiation zone in Virginia.”
Charlize clenched her jaw, realizing how she had sounded. She wasn’t herself today. Constant worry and the pain from her injuries had her on edge.
“I’m monitoring the situation and will let you know as soon as we hear something from Lieutenant Dupree,” Dietz said. Behind them, Marco was gesturing for the captain to pick up his headset.
“Ah, maybe that’s him now,” Dietz said.
She took a step back and waited as he listened to the incoming message. His features suddenly hardened, and he glanced up at Charlize. He cursed under his breath as he pulled off the headset and stood.
“Everyone, listen up. We have a contact detected on the sonar. Sound the alert, Lieutenant, and order the evacuation of all top-level officials.”
Marco nodded and turned to another officer to carry out her orders.
“We’re evacuating?” Charlize asked. “Is that necessary?”
“Our anti-submarine warfare officers have picked up more pings on the sonar, but they still haven’t been able to get a lock on whatever craft is out there. Admiral Luke has made the decision to—”
The wail of an emergency siren cut him off. It was the same sound she had heard right before D.C. had been hit by the nuclear warhead. On the flight deck, crews ran toward their aircraft. Rotors fired on a pair of Seahawks and an Osprey.
“We need to move, Madame Secretary,” Albert said. Somehow, he’d managed to reappear by her side right when she needed him. Just as they were about to leave the room, Marco waved at Charlize.
Albert gave his approval with a nod. He followed her over to the Lieutenant’s station. Marco held up a finger as she listened to her headset. Albert tapped his right burned Air Jordan on the ground nervously. A moment that felt more like an hour passed before Marco slipped the headset off. Her features remained stern.
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