The Fracture - The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: No Sanctuary Series - Book 3

by Mike Kraus

  Sarah watched Frank carefully as he spoke and gestured, studying every nuance of his voice and movements. Before he finished speaking she made up her mind about him and held out her rifle. “Here. Hold this.”

  Frank grabbed the barrel of the rifle, his eyes wide as he tried to figure out what was going on. Sarah had gone from shooting at him to handing him her weapon in a matter of moments and the sudden change in attitude confounded him. Sarah leaned into the car and put her hand on Linda’s head and chest. “Where’s the wound?”

  “Right leg, on her thigh.”

  Sarah turned Linda over slightly and peeled back the bandage from the wound before shaking her head. “Christ. Who patched this up? A drunk with no arms?” With a surprising amount of speed and strength Sarah lifted Linda from the car and shoved Frank out of the way. “Grab your gear and get inside.”

  Frank watched Sarah carry Linda up the steps to the townhouse for a few seconds before his brain kicked into gear. He grabbed the two backpacks from the car along with Linda’s jacket and carried everything up to the door of the townhouse. Inside, Sarah was busy getting Linda down onto a couch just inside the door. Frank stepped in and started setting the bags and Sarah’s rifle down on the floor when he caught a glimpse of Sarah holding his pistol across the room. She wasn’t aiming the weapon at him but she had it in her hand and was watching him carefully.

  Frank took his time setting the rifle down, then pointed at Linda’s bag. “Her pistol’s in there.”

  “Any other weapons or gear?”

  Frank shook his head. “We left everything else in a Humvee on the other side of the city. I think the plan was for a quick in and out trip, not some long excursion.”

  Sarah nodded slowly. “Right. Stay here with her. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared up the stairs near the back of the house and Frank hurried over to Linda and knelt down beside her. Linda’s breathing was shallow and sweat was still pouring off of her despite the chill both outside and inside the house.

  “Hang in there.” Frank whispered to Linda as he wiped sweat from her face and neck with the back of his hand. A moment later Sarah came back downstairs, carrying a large black suitcase with her. The pocket of her robe drooped and bulged with the shape of Frank’s pistol and she pointed with her free hand at the wall behind him.

  “Hit the light switch.”

  Frank reached for the switch, flicked it on and was surprised when the lights on the ceiling bathed the room in a soft yellow glow. “You have power?”

  “Question time later.” Sarah slammed the suitcase down on the floor next to the couch. She unzipped the case and flung it open to reveal a plethora of bandages, creams, ointments, surgical equipment and more. Frank watched as Sarah dug through the bag until she came across a steel case with a white label on the top. Sarah closed the suitcase and pushed it over towards Frank with her foot.

  “You squeamish about needles?” Sarah posed the question as she opened the spring-loaded top of the steel case to reveal several small vials and three long needles inside.

  Frank shook his head but gulped nervously despite his answer. “Not really, no.”

  “Good.” Sarah plucked one of the needles from the case and put it between her teeth. She rifled through the vials after taking the needle, picking up and putting down three or four of them before settling on the one she wanted.

  “What is that?”

  “Antibiotics. Cefrriax-a-something or other. Very potent stuff.”

  “You really think she needs that?”

  Sarah glanced at Frank as she popped the plastic protector off the end of the needle. “I’m not a doctor but I took enough first aid training to know when someone’s at death’s door. She’s damned lucky to be alive right now. Whatever’s inside of her needs to die and this stuff should do the trick.”

  Frank stood up and crossed his arms as he watched Sarah plunge the needle into the vial and draw out the liquid inside. “That’s all she needs? Just one injection?”

  “Hell no.” Sarah shook her head. “I’ve got some ten-day general courses in here. She’s going to feel like a truck’s running her over for the next couple weeks but she should survive.” Sarah flicked at the needle and gently depressed the plunger to remove any air bubbles inside. “Well.” She paused and looked at Linda. “So long as she’s not allergic to any of this stuff. I guess that’s preferable to guaranteed death, though. Any objections?”

  Frank shook his head. “You’re more of a doctor than I am. Do whatever you think will help.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Sarah took Linda’s arm and located the nearest vein. She pushed the needle into the vein without hesitation, moving ahead with what she thought was best in spite of the potentially disastrous outcome. The clear liquid disappeared as she pushed the plunger smoothly and quickly and she could feel Frank’s eyes staring into the back of her head as she worked.

  When Sarah finished she stood up, put the plastic protector back on the needle and slid it back into the steel case. “There.”

  “Now what?” Frank knelt back down next to Linda and touched her head.

  “Now we try to keep her cool while this stuff works.”

  “I was trying that earlier, with minimizing her clothing and keeping wet socks on her head and stomach. It didn’t seem to do much good.”

  “We’ll need more than that.” Sarah turned and looked behind her. “Go down the stairs to the basement. There’s a small chest freezer in the garage. Near the top there are a few freeze packs. Grab two of those and bring them back.”

  “Two freeze packs. Got it.” Frank turned and ran back towards the stairs down to the basement. Sarah, meanwhile, ran over to a nearby linen closet and grabbed two sheets and a thin blanket. She ran back to Linda and finished pulling off her pants, then took a pair of scissors and cut her shirt and bra free. Sarah draped one of the sheets over Linda’s waist and legs and loosely wrapped the other around her chest, leaving her head, neck, arms and most of her torso exposed.

  When Frank got back he handed the ice packs to Sarah and she nodded. “Good. Now grab me a couple of tea towels from the kitchen. Get a bottle of water and dampen them first. Not dripping wet, but wet enough to conduct heat and cold easily.”

  Frank jogged back into the kitchen and took a pair of hand towels from the counter. He held them over the sink and poured the remnants of a nearly-empty gallon of water onto them before mashing them together in his hands to distribute the water as evenly as possible. He brought them back to Sarah who took them and wrapped an ice pack in each one. She put one on Linda’s forehead and the other across Linda’s chest, then stuck a finger under both packs.

  “Good. That’s wet enough. They’ll start cooling her off soon.”

  “Do you have a fan or something?” Frank glanced around the room as Sarah fiddled with the positioning of the ice packs.

  “Only the ceiling fan. That circuit’s not on the batteries, though.” Sarah looked at Frank as she stood up next to him. “We’ve done everything we can for her. At this point we need to just keep an eye on her and hope the fever goes down.”

  Frank sighed and shook his head as he turned his back on Linda, not wanting to see her looking so ill any longer. “I should have cleaned the wound more. Done something else.”

  Sarah patted Frank on the back and gently pushed him towards a chair across from the couch. “You did what you could with what you had, I’m sure.” Sarah flicked the light off and the room descended back into a state of twilight, neither fully dark nor light enough to see very well.

  “Now then.” Sarah sat down in a chair next to Frank where she could see both him, Linda and the front door. She pulled Frank’s pistol out of the pocket of her robe and placed it on her lap with a flourish, ensuring that he noticed that she was still in possession of his weapon. She spoke softly but firmly, her dark eyes staring at Frank with an intensity and focus that made him uncomfortable.

  “I think it’s time you told me about yourself
.” Sarah cleared her throat and continued. “Such as your full name. And how you came to meet Linda. And anything else.” Sarah shrugged. “Basically… just tell me everything.”

  Sarah flashed a smile at him which somehow managed to look both warm and cold at the same time. “Don’t spare the details.”

  Chapter 19

  One Month Before the Attacks

  Nate sits at his station at the Los Angeles port, dividing his attention between watching videos on his phone and glancing up at the radiation monitor on his desk every few minutes. His job, for which he receives a yearly salary of eighty-nine thousand dollars, consists of watching the radiation monitor and making a phone call if the radiation detected by the monitor reaches a certain threshold.

  While Nate’s job was relevant two decades ago he would have been replaced with a simplistic and far cheaper automated alarm had it not been for the tenacity of his union. Thus, for over thirty years Nate has functioned as one of the many gatekeepers in the port that helps protect our country. His effectiveness over those years has waned and he has only ever pushed the alarm button three times but he will fight tooth and nail to insist that his job is vital to the safety of all.

  When the fourth radiation alert in Nate’s career goes off he doesn’t notice it at first. Mandatory equipment inspections rarely occur and when they take place they cover only the most vital parts of the systems. An alert bell for a system that has only triggered three times in thirty years is not, unfortunately, deemed a vital part.

  When Nate glances up from his phone to check the monitor he freezes, momentarily taken aback by the red flashing light on the monitor. He sits still for several seconds before picking up the phone next to the monitor and dialing a four-digit number.

  “Go ahead.”

  “This is Nate, down in bulk rad scanning. I’ve got a red light on the shipment passing through right now.”

  There is a pause on the other end of the line. “A red light? On the bulk cargo scanner?”

  “That’s right.” Nate thumps the monitor with his fist, wondering if the alert could be a malfunction.

  “You sure about that?”

  “You want to come down and see the flashing red light?”

  A heavy sigh follows another long pause. “I’m making the call. Stand by.”

  “Copy.” Nate hangs up the phone and turns to his computer. He pulls up the cargo manifests passing through the scanners and locates the one that triggered the alarm.

  “A rice shipment?” He frowns. “Who the hell’s importing rice from Croatia?”

  Nate is about to pick up the phone and call his superior officer to inform her of the situation when the phone rings first. He picks up the receiver and presses it to his ear while he continues skimming the computer screen.

  “Rad scans. Nate here.”

  “Nathan Davis? Badge number eight nine seven five dash two six one?”

  Nate’s eyes grow wide as he tries to figure out what the formal-sounding call could be about. “Uh. Yes, that’s me?” His voice cracks as he answers and he feels his palms starting to sweat. Perhaps the call is about the malfunction with the alert. Or someone ratted him out about his videos and naps on the job.

  “I’ll make this quick. The ‘alert’ on your screen is nothing more than a malfunction. One of the sensors had a bird crap all over it which shorted it out. It’s giving false readings which is what’s causing you to get radiation alarms.”

  “I… what? A malfunction?”

  “Correct.”

  “I’m… I’m sorry. Who are you?”

  “Inspector Garcia. Badge two one six eight dash two one three. We’re already on the line with your superior and the tech teams. They’ll be fitting the new sensor in as soon as possible. For now we’re moving to manual scans until further notice.”

  “Manual scans?” Nate starts to panic as he thinks about what that could mean for his job security. “How long until the new sensor is in?”

  “At least another twelve hours. Maybe twenty-four. I’ll personally call you when the repairs are complete.”

  “Okay… thanks, I guess. Do y—” The line goes dead before Nate can ask his next question. He sits there for several minutes staring at the phone and the monitor, trying to work out exactly what just happened. While the explanation from Inspector Garcia sounded legitimate, Nate can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss.

  Although his analytical skills are rusty from years of idly sitting and doing virtually nothing in his small office, Nate decides to press in and see exactly what is going on. He taps away at the keyboard on his desk, slowly making less typos and mistakes as he digs into the software program that records the intricate details for each radiation scan. The records for the latest scan that tripped the alarm are extensive, consisting of dozens of pages of raw data that have to be carefully analyzed.

  Nate pulls out a notebook from his drawer and tries three different pens before finding one that still works. He begins jotting down calculations, using his cell phone to look up long-forgotten formulae and constants that he used to know by heart. Lunch is quickly forgotten as Nate digs down into the data, checking and re-checking his calculations both by hand and through the computer system. Late in the day, when it’s nearly time to head home, he finally puts down his pen and stares at the notebook.

  “Holy hell.” Nate struggles to comprehend what he sees. The computer’s calculations and Nate’s own calculations do not lie, though. The radiation sensors which were working perfectly up until the alert earlier in the day show only two possibilities.

  The first possibility is the simplest and conforms to what Inspector Garcia indicated. The sensor somehow suffered a malfunction and is showing radiation readings that are incorrect. This explanation is easy to accept on the one hand, but since the radiation sensors are regularly checked and replaced—unlike the equipment in Nate’s office—it seems unlikely.

  The second possibility is terrifying on a scale that boggles the mind. If the sensor is not broken then whatever was in the shipment that passed through and triggered the alert was not rice at all. The only thing that would have triggered the numbers Nate sees is weapons-grade nuclear material. The idea that someone would try shipping weapons-grade nuclear material in through a port that performs radiation scans on everything that comes in and goes out seems ludicrous on the surface. No one could possibly be that stupid.

  But what if it’s true? The shipment of rice that triggered the alert is already gone, having been sped through customs and picked up by the recipient mere minutes after it was marked as cleared. There are no records in the system of the manual radiation scans that Inspector Garcia performed, either, though that could possibly be explained by the fact that manual checks are so rare that it would take extra time to enter them into the database.

  The more Nate considers the two possibilities, though, the more nervous he gets. He is normally one to make fun of conspiracy theorists but he finds himself thinking more and more like one. After several minutes of thinking he realizes that there’s something else he can check.

  He picks up the phone on his desk and calls to another department.

  “Records.”

  “Ted? This is Nate down at scanning.”

  “What’s going on, Nate?”

  Nate instinctively glances around his small office and pulls his chair closer to his desk as he lowers his voice. “I need a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Run a badge number for me, will you? I got an odd call earlier and want to make sure it’s legit.”

  “A badge number? Can’t you run it from there?”

  “My system’s down right now so I can’t access it.” It’s a simple lie to disguise the fact that Nate doesn’t want a record of him looking up the badge number in the system. Looking up badge numbers is not a prohibited activity but Nate wants to stay as far from the situation as possible while he’s checking things out.

  “Yeah, all right. What is it?”
>
  Nate reads the badge number out that he had hastily typed into a text file on his computer when Inspector Garcia called earlier. Ted taps out the numbers on his keyboard and reads the text over the phone to Nate.

  “Badge is registered to Jose Martinez.”

  “Is he an inspector?”

  “Nope. He works off-site. General site security.”

  “Huh. All right, thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Later, Nate.”

  The line goes dead and Nate hangs up the phone. He rubs his hand through his hair as he processes the new information and tries to decide what to do next. Making waves and drawing attention to himself isn’t something he wants to do, particularly when it might involve him being tricked by someone impersonating an inspector.

  “God dammit.” Nate picks up the phone again and dials the number for his superior. When she picks up he starts giving her a summary of the events of the day when she interrupts him and cuts him off.

  “I appreciate the call, Nathan, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “But this inspector isn’t—”

  “Nathan.” Her voice grows cold. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve checked everything out and it was a sensor malfunction. A new one will be up tomorrow morning and you can resume your duties then. Understand?”

  “I… okay. Sure.”

  “Great. Have a good evening.”

  The line, once again, goes dead and Nate sits in silence while he wonders yet again just what is going on.

  Chapter 20

  “Welcome to the United States, Mr. Amari. Have a pleasant stay.”

  Farhad Omar smiles broadly at the immigration officer as he collects his passport from the desk and his luggage from the floor. Many would be nervous about traveling under a false name. Omar is not nervous in the slightest. Two dozen trips back and forth between the United States and other countries have left him feeling confident in his alias which, in turn, helps immensely when dealing with the immigration officers.