A New World: Storm

by John O'Brien

  Passing over the city, I don’t see anything that draws my attention. Most of the streets are covered with varying depths of dirt without a vehicle track to be seen. On some of the roads, vehicles are almost completely covered by large drifts of sand. I’m sure if I descended a few hundred feet, I’d be able to make out pathways created by night runners. However, I’m searching for vehicle tracks and I don’t want to drop down into the range of small arms fire.

  Swinging to the north of the field, the landscape below is a barren wasteland without a structure to be seen. The interstate leading out of the city to the northwest and southeast is only discernable by a faint raised section of dirt. Travel along the roads in this area seems like it would be difficult without a 4WD option and plenty of clearance.

  Swinging to the west, the remains of circular crops sit astride the Snake River. There is one section that remains green and I assume that’s where Jason and his group started their farming efforts. Near the river itself, just across a bridge, is a very small town with what appears to be a quarry to the south. From the farm to the town, there appears to be sporadic vehicle tracks, but they aren’t fresh and almost impossible to determine their origin.

  With the exception of faint trails leading through the small town, it looks similar to the larger city: Streets filled with dirt and debris, vehicles partially hidden beneath drifts, piles of sand stacked against buildings. I mark the location as a potential even though there aren’t fresh signs of people. It could be that they only come out at times to check on the fields.

  So far, we’ve just been drilling holes in the sky without much to show for it other than a slight possibility. There aren’t any dust trails being flung into the air from vehicles traveling the dry ground below, or any other recent signs. It’s beginning to look like we’ll have to convince Jason to come back with us and figure out something else for the soldiers. The men and women haven’t complained or shown any signs of anything but compliance, however, my trust factor still isn’t at an all-time high.

  Keeping my distance, I follow the river south to where it flows into several reservoirs. If we don’t see anything once we make our loop, I’ll make a run along the riverbank south of the base to see if I can spot anyone observing. Looking ahead to plan our route, I’m startled by Bri’s voice on the intercom.

  “Dad, what’s that?”

  I look back at her and follow her finger to our left. It’s hard to discern anything in the landscape below, but there are a couple of buildings near where she is indicating. One of them, near the lake and adjacent to what must have once been a country highway, has a large number of vehicles parked in the lot. Compared with what we’ve seen in the world around, it seems like a few more than there should be. More importantly, there are fresh tracks along a dirt road to the north and on the highway heading southeast. Unless I miss my guess, this must be where the bandits are holding out. It’s not a sure thing, but I don’t see that it could be anything else. If it was another group of survivors, surely they would have contacted Jason by now.

  Without deviating from our flight path so as not to raise suspicion, I focus on the building and its surroundings, logging the details in my mind. Many of the vehicles are motorcycles or pickups. I can’t imagine the bikes could travel the roads, but they’re there. Most of the tracks are side-by-side, which indicates that they mostly use the trucks. The multi-story building looks like a school. There isn’t the football field usually associated with one, but that’s the impression I get nonetheless. I don’t see anyone outside moving around, but we are a little distance away. Regardless, the fresh tracks speak for themselves – people are there.

  Surrounding the facility are fields that once were crops of some sort, but are now just overgrown stalks. The building slides underneath our wing. I continue our flight until we reach the city, not once sighting an actual person or the dust trail of a moving vehicle. Turning east, I fly until I’m sure we’re out of sight and earshot from where we saw the building. I’m sure they’ll know we returned if they have a spotter, but I want it to look like a normal flight as much as possible, one in which we didn’t find anything interesting. If there was anyone in the facility, I’m sure they heard us, but there isn’t any sense in making it easier. Now, it’s just a matter of what to do with the information. It may be that we land, talk with Jason, load up, and head on our merry way. I’m not sure at this point how things will pan out.

  It’s nearing midday as we land, taxi in, and shut down. It will be interesting to see what the others in Jason’s group have decided. Even though bullies like those across the river need to be taken care of at some point, I’m hoping that the folks here have decided to join up with us so we can clear out. Jason and Gonzalez meet us at the aircraft and we adjourn to our previous room. As we settle into our seats, I brief the others on what we found.

  “There it is in a nutshell. It’s not certain it’s the group that has been harassing you, but I can’t think of who else it could be,” I state. “How did your discussion go?”

  “Well, not as well as I had hoped, to be honest. Many of us are split about what we should do. Some of them want to stay and take in the soldiers, make a go of it. There are others who want nothing more than to leave. A few are even arguing both sides. However, one thing is clear; they are all of the opinion that breaking up our group is not an option. What one does, we all do,” Jason comments. “If some of us depart, that will leave those behind with woefully small numbers. I know that isn’t really an answer and not what you were hoping to hear. It kind of leaves us right back where we started.”

  “If I could say something, you could make a command decision and tell them what you’re going to do,” Gonzalez chimes in.

  “See, therein may lay the problem. I’m not exactly sure what the best thing for us to do is,” Jason states. “I’m afraid that whatever decision I make will be the wrong one.”

  I can certainly understand that, I think.

  “Look, Jason, I don’t want to seem like an asshole here but, well, it’s obvious your current situation isn’t going to work. The way I see it, you really only have three choices: You could do nothing, which will mean that you run out of fuel, and therefore access to water. That’s not really much of an option. The second is, you could accept the soldiers and deal with the problem; or third, you could come with us,” I say.

  I don’t want to make him angry, but I also don’t want to dawdle around while they talk about a decision they may never make. If we don’t turn around and head back to the bunker soon, we’ll be stuck for another night. It’s already beginning to look like that may happen and I’m not very happy about it. Jason hangs his head as if I admonished him. That certainly wasn’t my intention and it's a sign of just how stressed and weary he is. Of course, I’m not that great at phrasing things in a politically correct manner, especially when I’m tired and stressed myself…meaning cranky.

  “First of all, you’re right. The first isn’t an option. And I appreciate the offer of the soldiers. Like I mentioned before, I don’t really want to take on the added responsibility. If I were to be honest, if something happened to them, I’m not sure how I would take it. Besides, we’ve lost a few folks, many of them with prior military experience. I wouldn’t have the first idea of how to command such troops,” Jason comments.

  “You wouldn’t necessarily have to do that. You have others who can lead them,” I say, nodding toward the soldier who remained.

  The soldier laughs and shakes his head. “Sir, I was just a private and wouldn’t have the first clue. Well, perhaps the first one, but definitely not the second.”

  “There are those with the soldi…” I start, only to be interrupted by Gonzalez.

  “Sir, there may be another way. If we could speak about it in private.”

  I nod, and we step outside into the hallway. “Okay, Gonzalez, what is it?”

  “Sir, we could help them clear the marauders out and then leave them with the troops,” she states.
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  “That’s a pretty risky option. We only have two teams,” I reply.

  “We could use the troops we brought with us, sir.”

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” I state.

  “You have to start the trust somewhere.”

  “Okay, let me run this past you. Not a day ago, we were locked in combat against them. We don’t know them or what they’re thinking. What if they decide to head off on their own…while we’re out in the field? They outnumber us, a lot to a few,” I say.

  “In their defense, sir, and I’m not arguing the point with you, but they didn’t know what they were defending. Besides, they’re soldiers. They wouldn’t do that. Call it a gut feeling.”

  I have to admit that this weighs heavily on me. I want to trust them, but to do so would put us at great risk. One that I’m not sure I want to take.

  Seeing my hesitance, she continues. “If I could speak frankly.” That phrase has always scared the shit out of me. “And I don’t mean any disrespect. I know you are just trying to do right by the teams and the entire compound. Helping these people out feels like the right thing to do and sometimes you have to jump in with both boots…sir.”

  The problem is, she’s right. It does feel like the right thing to do. That doesn’t mean I have to like it though. I think it’s my fear of failure coming to the forefront. I don’t want to make a wrong decision that jeopardizes the teams. If it were just me, I’d probably be beating feet to the southwest the moment we landed. There’s just so much that could go wrong from a momentary lapse in reasoning. I try not to let that affect my decision-making process, but it’s there nonetheless. In the past, if I ever came around to second-guessing my decisions, I would revert to the one that felt right…the instinctual one. Whether it made sense or not. My gut hasn’t failed me yet. Gonzalez is correct; this is the right thing to do. If we lose our humanity, we’ve lost everything important.

  “All right, Gonzalez. You’re right. You apparently get to be my conscience for the moment. I’ll suggest it, but just so you know, I’m not overly comfy with it. I just wish we had the Spooky with us.”

  “We could go get it, sir.”

  “No, there’s no time. Once we get back home, we’ll be up to our armpits in a mess,” I comment.

  “Well, if they’re your armpits, sir, then whatever mess is there will run away screaming,” she says with a smile.

  “Oh, you’re funny. Lynn is just going to love this when I radio her,” I state, sighing as I think about that conversation.

  “No offense, sir, but you could always not tell her.”

  I burst into laughter. That has to be close to the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.

  “If she finds out, and she will, and knows I didn’t tell her, well, I might as well just take out my knife and start peeling my skin off now.”

  She chuckles and we adjourn back inside the room where we present our proposal. As we discuss the option, tossing ideas back and forth, Jason turns to me suddenly.

  “Jack, I was thinking about the people who brought this about and meant to ask. What about Harold? He was full of these ideas.”

  “Oh, I guess I didn’t mention him specifically while telling the story. He’s the one who actually put the pieces together and figured the whole thing out. He’s back at the bunker working on a solution,” I respond.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I thought he was just a conspiracy nut, but it turns out he was right all along. I wonder how things would have been different if we’d listened to him earlier,” Jason ponders.

  “I doubt it would have changed anything, to be honest,” I reply.

  “That’s probably true.”

  “If it’s all the same with you, I think we need to get together with those I brought and do some planning,” I state. “If it’s feasible, we’ll help. Be prepared for the answer that it’s too great a risk, though. You’ll need to have a plan as to what you’re going to do should that be the case. My suggestion is get everyone ready to come with us.”

  “Okay. I’ll inform everyone of the plan and potential that we’ll need to leave. Is there anything I can do? Is there anything that you need?” Jason asks.

  “At the moment, I think we’re fine, but we’ll brief you on what we come up with,” I say, rising.

  Heading outside to the hangar once again, I gather the soldiers and Blue Team together. I’m sure the soldiers are tired of sitting on concrete floors, having done so for the past day and a half. I’m also sure they are tired of being kept under guard. I notice that some from Jason’s camp have supplied water for them, so at least they don’t have to add being parched to the list of discomforts. With everyone assembled in a semicircle, I remember Montore’s words about the soldiers needing to find something else they could believe in. Hopefully this can be a catalyst for that very thing.

  Keeping it as short as I can, I brief them on the situation of the group holed up on base, and that we are going to attempt to help them.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience you’ve been put through to this point. However, in the words of a wise woman, trust has to start somewhere. So, I’m going to make a leap in that direction. We’re going to offload the weapons and ammo, and arm you. For now, you’ll fold in under my command, but later be released to the man in charge here. I’ll be in continual contact with this facility, monitoring things. Over time, it’s my hope that we’ll be able to fully establish trust on both sides. I’m not exactly sure as yet what action we’ll be taking here, if any. While you’re offloading the gear, we’re going to plan the op. You’ll be briefed and assigned into teams once we complete that. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask,” I state, finishing the brief.

  One soldier raises his hand. “Sir, we haven’t been given any chance to find out about our families. We were kept under a strict communications blackout. Will we be allowed to do so now? I mean…after we finish the mission?”

  That is something I hadn’t thought about. I would like to say that I assumed they would know about their families, but the honest truth is it hadn’t even crossed my mind. The odds of finding anyone alive at this point are next to nothing, but I feel like we owe them the same chance we offered those in our own teams. I didn’t brief about the condition of the world with regards to exclusion zones, but will do so before heading back to base.

  “The answer is yes, we will offer whatever resources we have at our disposal. Keep in mind that we are allocating those resources to other priorities, but each of you will be given the opportunity to use them at some point. We’ll cover the details when we finish here,” I answer.

  “Fair enough, sir,” the soldier responds.

  Another hand shoots into the air. “Sir, if I heard this all right. We are to stay here with this group following the mission. Is that correct?”

  “That’s right. The fifty of you will be reassigned to this base to help the group here,” I reply.

  “What about travel and leave time? Will we be allowed to leave?” the soldier queries.

  “That will be up to the commander here. We don’t have much time remaining until the fuel goes bad, so I can’t imagine you’ll get the chance to travel far. Unfortunately, what you see is kind of what you get,” I answer. “Any other questions?”

  No one else raises their hand, although there is a bit of low murmuring as they talk amongst themselves. “Okay, if there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to offload the 130. You can store and break down the equipment in the hangar here. Blue Team,” I say, introducing each member, “will be in charge. We’ll reassemble once we have a plan in place.”

  Departing with Robert, Bri, Gonzalez, and Horace, we adjourn back to the room. Spreading the atlas and ground chart on the table, I mark the location where we found the marauders and detail the routes where we found the fresh tracks.

  “Okay, let’s start this off. First, the number of vehicles in the lot indicate that there are potentially way more than the fifty that Jason mentioned. I
would guess their numbers to actually be closer to a hundred. There could be more or less, as we didn’t see a single person, but we’ll assume that we are going into this outnumbered. Even though I’m sure we are better trained, that pretty much leaves out a direct assault. From what Jason said, we will also have to go with the assumption that we are both equally armed. With that in mind, I’m open to ideas,” I brief.

  “We could set up an ambush or hit them at the building when they leave,” Horace suggests.

  “If we set up either option, it seems to me that we’ll be out in the open with no exit. With an ambush, whether on the road or at the facility, we’ll have to leave any vehicles behind and proceed into position on foot. They’ll have vehicles that could outmaneuver us. Our asses will be hanging in the breeze,” Gonzalez responds. “And, they’ll see us coming a mile away, even if they don’t have spotters stationed around the area.”

  “Sir, we could just forgo an attack and use the soldiers as protection for the people heading out to the farms. Seeing fifty armed soldiers would certainly cause them to hesitate,” Horace adds.

  “I’m not arguing with that solution, but it seems to me that the situation would degenerate to a battle of attrition. It wouldn’t really take care of things, just change them temporarily,” Gonzalez states.

  “I think you’re right about that. It might keep the fight going and who knows what it would lead to in terms of casualties. The scales would be tipped in the marauders' favor, as they could pick the time and place for an attack. They could set up ambushes along the way and we’d be stuck in a defensive role,” I comment.