Day by Day Armageddon: Shattered Hourglass

by J. L. Bourne

  “Calm down, mang. It was funny,” Rico said, giggling in an over-the-top Cuban accent, sounding a lot like Tony Montana. Huck grimaced. “Why so mad? I tole you I was in sanitation.”

  Huck laughed and reached up, trying to grab Rico’s leg to pull him down a couple rungs, and maybe a couple notches of attitude. Huck asked, “You worried about Griff?”

  “I am, Griff is my friend, but I gotta stay positive. He might still be alive. Not going to let it kill me. I want to get back and finish what we started.”

  “Amen to that. Ready to get over there and kick some Chinese ass,” Huck yelled, his voice echoing down the ladder and throughout the tunnel below.

  Something clanged somewhere in the tunnel blackness far in the distance.

  “You drop something?” Rico asked as he worked on the access door that led to the outside.

  “No, it was in the tunnel. One of the things, I’ll bet.”

  “Just a sec. This padlock shim is giving me a hard time,” Rico said, bending the shim again to fit inside the locking mechanism of the large brass government padlock.

  “That’s what happens when you make a padlock shim out of an aluminum can, stupid Mexican.”

  “Your name is one vowel off from the truth, you know that, Hick? I may be stupid, but I know how to keep my hands off my cousins, you backwoods Deliverance fuck.”

  “That’s cold-blooded, man. I still owe you for the cat. Don’t think all this joking around is gonna make me forget.”

  “Put your hood on, climb up here, and shut up, hick. I just popped the lock. I’m gonna throw this lever and open the door. Ready?”

  “Yeah, do it. I’m ready.”

  Huck pulled his gun up to high ready. Moisture condensed inside their radiation hoods as the first rays of sunlight beamed through the doorway. The view was bleak. Although a paradise of green a year ago, today the picture was much darker. All the vegetation was dead and trees were blown northward away from the blast that had rocked Honolulu. None of them had realized the full scope of the island’s destruction when they moved in the cover of last night’s darkness.

  They were on top of a hill above the cave and tunnel, and could see the ocean in the distance from their vantage point. Huck noted the damaged, golf ball–shaped antennas some distance away, as well as the smaller antennas right outside the door.

  They were on a steep pinnacle overlooking the infested cave entrance on the south side, and a sheer cliff on the north that dropped a hundred feet into the remains of a jungle. Rico grabbed his waterproof notepad and began making a sketch of the situation so he could brief Rex upon return. Huck had the binos, and was surveilling the tunnel entrance below. He got down on his chest and low-crawled to the edge. Rico instinctively grabbed Huck’s feet.

  “What’s it look like?”

  “It looks like a bunch of fucking walking dead things,” Huck replied.

  Rico lifted Huck’s feet a few inches off the ground, startling him a bit.

  “Quit fuckin’ around,” Huck lashed. He continued scanning the area below, looking for anything that might assist their exfil. Huck paused his bino sweep and tightened his shoulders in concentration. “Uh . . . Rico. Man, I’m sorry.”

  “What . . . Griff?”

  “Yeah, brother. Pull me back. Sorry, man.”

  Rico dragged Huck away from the edge by his boots and sat down in momentary defeat, leaning against the rusty maintenance access shed door. “What did you see, Huck?” Rico had the tone of a man that didn’t want an answer.

  “I saw what was left of a brave motherfucker that took a stand. Looks like he pulled a frag and took a few with him.”

  Both men sat atop the hill absorbing the heat of the Hawaiian sun through their exposure suits, a small luxury considering their current living conditions aboard the submarine.

  Huck checked his digital watch, squinting at the faded numbers caused by a weak battery that would never be replaced. “Rico, it’s been an hour. We should head.”

  Rico stood up and quickly unslung his M-4, surprising Huck. Flipping off the safety with his right thumb he began to take pot shots at the creatures below. He dropped ten of the undead, with no noticeable impact on the five hundred or so that walked about cooking in the tropical sun. Rico slung his carbine and walked through the shed door that sheltered the hatch and ladder leading back down.

  The ladder hole reminded Huck of his grandmother’s water well and how she had always warned him as a child to stay away from it or he might fall in. The water’s cold down there, boy, and full of dead squirrels, she’d kid. He drank from the creek most of the time.

  “Rico, we should probably radio the boat before we go down the hole, let ’em know what’s going on.”

  Rico nodded.

  “This is Hourglass with SITREP,” Huck transmitted.

  “Hourglass, damn good to hear you. Go ahead with SITREP.” Kil’s voice came back through the tinny ear mic.

  “Facility is green, birds are unavailable. Commie reports that the birds are locked out and controlled by another entity. Going ahead with secondary objectives. Copy?”

  “Yeah, good transmission. Listen, about Griff, he . . .”

  “We know,” Huck responded. “We’re topside now, headed back down. Intend to exfil tonight. See you back at the boat, Hourglass out.”

  “Roger, Hourglass. See you soon.”

  • • •

  Huck went first down the ladder, mindful of the sound they had heard earlier. He pointed his carbine down as he descended. Reaching the tunnel floor they pulled their masks and began moving back to where Rex and Commie were. It was a few hundred yards to the turnstiles, allowing enough time for both men to adjust their eyes from the sunlight back to the NODs. Reaching the metal gate Rico pulled the handle. It didn’t budge.

  “We’re locked out—gotta pick it,” Rico said.

  “Okay, I’ll pick the damn thing, you try the radio. Maybe Rex has his on; he’s not that far from here. The signal might make it through a few walls, maybe.”

  Rico keyed the mic, walking back and forth from the vending machines to the gate, trying his luck with different areas to maybe get lucky with his signal ducting.

  Something moved somewhere in the darkness.

  “Huck? You hear it?” Rico said, jogging back to the gate.

  “What?”

  “Something’s in here. Don’t know how far, but no doubt it’s probably something fucked up and headed this way. Hurry up!” Rico whispered, trying to avoid unnecessary noise. The tunnel propagated sound in unpredictable directions.

  The lock gave unexpectedly and Huck fell inside. “We’re in, Rico—move it.”

  Rico watched the blackness down the tunnel. His NODs would only grant a few meters of visibility in the total darkness. Something had moved out there, Rico knew it. He walked backward with his weapon up, through the gate, shutting it behind him. They moved side by side down the passageway, back to Rex and Commie.

  “It’s gonna be a problem on the way back, man,” Rico warned.

  “I don’t see how. It’s pitch black and those things can’t see in the dark.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t really know what this radiation shit does to them, man. Could be fucked up.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up! We’ll make it out. The cave doors only had a few inches of gap. Those things can’t fit through. If there are any in here with us, it will only be one or two. Griff wouldn’t have fucked us like that, man.”

  Huck’s statement had the desired effect, causing Rico’s attitude to shift perceptibly. They threw the hatch and walked into the room where Rex and Commie waited.

  “You guys were gone a long time. What did you see?” Commie asked. His pack was closed, gear packed tight and ready to move out.

  “We found the exit. That’s the good news, I guess,” Huck said solemnly.

  “Spit it out, Huck. What’s the shitty news?” Rex demanded.

  “Well . . . Griff . . . didn’t make it; he hugged a frag a
nd took about half a dozen with him. Not much left, but it’s him out there.”

  “He’s not . . . ?” Rex asked.

  “No, he’s real dead, for sure. I wouldn’t leave him any other way,” Huck said, looking at the ground, all too tired of seeing the pain in the eyes of his team members.

  Rico pulled the notepad from his pocket and showed Rex the topside layout.

  “There’s a steep drop on the north side, seventy-five, maybe a hundred. The south side is above the tunnel doors where Griff is . . . was.” Rico shifted from sadness to anger as he spoke. “I don’t care what you wanna do, boss. If you wanna drop down on the south side and shoot ’em all, I’m with that.”

  Rex was startled by Rico’s sudden change in temperament. “No, we’ll take the north side and get out of here unscathed. Ammo is our LIMFAC. Make radio contact?”

  “Affirm,” Huck acknowledged, smacking on a fresh stick of gum. “They know about Griff, saw it from the eye in the sky. Told ’em we were Oscar Mike back to the boat tonight. What happened here?”

  “Commie tried again to bring the satellites up under his control. No dice. Someone else has the reins.” Rex glanced over and saw that Commie was packed and ready to move. “Going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, out of here, fast. I’ve done everything we were fragged for. The intel is burned on two DVDs in my pack. I’ll give one to you before we leave just in case. They’re duplicates.”

  “Good idea. Although if you don’t make it back, I might as well stay here. Old Man Larsen would tie me to the sail and slap my balls with a car antenna if we lost our HVA.”

  This made Huck laugh so hard he spit out his gum. In his head, the captain was dressed like General Patton with a car antenna instead of a riding crop. He laughed even harder, doubling over red-faced.

  “Not that damn funny, Huck.” Rex walked over and stole a piece of Huck’s stale gum from the table and turned to face Commie. “Anyway, what happened with the trace?”

  Commie replied quickly, almost as if reading from a script: “The trace stopped in Alaska. I couldn’t get beyond the firewall there.” He pulled his pack straps tightly and walked back over to the terminal. “I’m shutting down the mainframe. I doubt anyone will ever come here again but there is a possibility that we may need the systems at some point.”

  “I don’t care if you download porn and set everything on fire—we’re done here.” Rex moved to the center of the room to lay down the plan. “We’re moving out when the sun goes down. Should be clear inside and Commie knows the place, so Rico—you and Commie go find some rope somewhere, four lengths if you can. We’ll make do if you can’t. Me and Huck will hold it down.”

  “Roger that. Let’s go, Commie.” They both dropped their heavy packs, bringing only weapons. None of them looked forward to the next twelve hours—the trip back through the island’s belt of undead.

  USS Virginia

  December

  I’m going to be a father! Me?! Though the team is on the ground ten miles into Hiroshima-like terrain, I still can’t stop smiling. Good news—great news. Best news since last Christmas. Nearly one year since the world died, and I find out that I have made a new life.

  The message from Tara was simple, but it changed me forever: WE ARE PREGNANT.

  I paced around for what seemed like an hour, smiling and happy. Oblivious to what was happening around me. I wasn’t on a submarine off the coast of Hawaii, I was somewhere in the clouds!

  On to more pressing matters.

  The sun will be down in a couple hours and two things will happen. I will have another chance to communicate a relay to Crusow and I’ll be supporting the Kunia exfil. Crusow sounded so happy and proud for me when he broke the news from Tara. Funny how I’ve never met him, and yet he knew about the baby before I did because of the relay. It’s hard to believe he’s so far away, somewhere so opposite me. It’s a hundred and forty degrees of temperature difference between him and me, and yet we still find some joy in our situations. Me more than him today!

  Names for the relay: Something strong like Alexander if he’s a boy. Something like Lillian or . . . need to think of another name for a girl. Damn, I need to get married when I get back. My mother would kill me if she knew I was going to be an unmarried dad. My mother . . .

  42

  USS George Washington

  John clandestinely monitored the entire volume of the ship’s message traffic by way of the improvised splice of certain sensitive lines, intercepting some troubling news. He’d also siphoned traffic mentioning intelligence collected over the Beijing area by an aircraft called Aurora in the sourcing lines.

  John had already encoded and transmitted a short line of warning to Kil, but wasn’t yet sure of his receipt. Kil’s confirmation before the boat was due in the Bohai was necessary or he might be forced to transmit in the clear, unencrypted for anyone who might listen. John was gravely worried about Kil. He decided not to mention his findings to Tara to avoid unnecessary worry and confusion. He knew of the good news and didn’t want her upset. The particulars of Kil’s business in China were unknown to John, but he had suspicions that whatever they were going after over there might be related to the recently intercepted messages.

  During the leadership meeting he had attended yesterday—attended being a loose term, as he had been dismissed halfway for security reasons—John learned of a concern that the admiral had with one of the civilians onboard. The officer speaking used his allotted time to brief the admiral, careful not to use names, knowing there were civilians present at the meeting.

  “The boy claimed to hear things, Admiral, aft on the O-3 level. Told his nurse and doctor. How do you want to proceed?”

  With a wave of his hand, the admiral dismissed every nonmilitary person in the room. Then Joe, the admiral’s aide, ushered everyone out and closed the door. John knew that he’d likely not be requested back, so he took this time to make a phone call from the phone in the hallway. He dialed the sick bay.

  “Jan. Is this an emergency?”

  “No, it’s John. Listen. Remember that discussion we had a week or so ago about Danny?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Did you tell anyone about it?”

  “No, I just talked about it with Dean. Dean told me she’d take it up with the admiral during the next town hall meeting next week.”

  John paused for a moment. “The reason I’m asking is that I was at the leadership meeting this morning, and I overheard something before they dismissed the civilians. Something about a boy who heard things.” John reached for his notepad and flipped to the first non-dog-eared page. “A boy who heard things aft on the O-3 level and told his nurse.”

  Jan was silent on the other end of the phone.

  “Jan? I think it’s best we call a Hotel 23 meeting.”

  “Okay, that sounds good. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Meet me in the hallway at our staterooms.”

  “All right, see you soon. Be careful.”

  “Will do. Bye, John.”

  John dialed up Will, Dean, and Tara before heading to the meeting. After efficiently traversing the levels and ladders, he arrived to find Jan and Will already there, and a little treat standing alongside her: Laura with Annabelle.

  “Hi, Laura! Taking care of my doggy for me?”

  “Yes! She’s mine though, she told me!” Laura said, giggling and scratching Annabelle’s back. The dog’s curly, piglike tail wiggled as if she somehow understood.

  “We’ll see about that, little girl!” John said in his evil-uncle voice, causing more giggles from Laura.

  Annabelle wagged her tail and ran over, tongue already licking in advance, tail wagging uncontrollably.

  “Will, how have you been? I’m sorry that I haven’t even had five minutes to talk to you in the past few days. Been busy with the comms and such.”

  “Don’t worry about it—Jan has me changing bedpans and rigging IV bags. She’s worked me like a cheap mule.”

  Jan shot a disappro
ving look at Will, prompting smiles all around.

  A stateroom door closed behind John; turning, he saw Tara walking up. “I don’t think it’s a big deal, but we should probably get out of the hallway as soon as everyone shows up. We’re still missing Dean.”

  “I’m here.” Dean’s voice echoed up the hallway. A basketball bounced off the steel deck, a clue that Danny was in tow. “Danny, you and Laura go study in the classroom. I’ll get you when we are done, and I don’t want any lip about it, young man.”

  “Okay, Granny,” Danny responded rather sadly. It was never fun to be a young boy told to babysit a girl.

  Rubbing the top of his head with her rough working hands, Dean reassured him, “It’ll be fun, kiddo, won’t be long. Scoot.”

  Danny, Laura, and Annabelle scattered to the next room with Annabelle jumping over a knee-knocker like a woodland doe over a log. After a few moments, Annabelle’s gallop could be heard again getting louder right before she returned, skidding to a stop at John’s feet.

  “That’s my girl!” said John. “Let’s do my room, it’s got more space.”

  “Wow, look who’s movin’ up!” Tara said, smiling sarcastically.

  “Yeah, I feel slightly guilty about it, but I’m up at all hours of the night and living in the stateroom of the guy who did my job before. I’m staying in the COMMO’s quarters. They’re still spartan compared to Hotel 23, but pretty roomy considering where we’re at.”

  “Oh, stop it, John! If one of us gets a break, well that’s good news,” Dean assured him.

  “Thanks, Dean, just didn’t want anyone thinking I was forgetting about you all. Should we get started?”

  They all piled into John’s stateroom and closed the door. They took seats on the bunk beds, sink, and small foldout desk as John began to go over this morning’s events. Annabelle found the piece of rope that John had scavenged from the forecastle and converted into a chew toy. As John explained what he had overheard, Dean’s face showed signs of worry. Dean was going to request a meeting with the admiral, but since Danny hadn’t actually seen anything with his own eyes, she thought it best to let it go for now.