by Angela White
2
Wwhhhoooo!
Sam was moaning in agony before her eyes were even open, hands automatically going to her wound. She screamed as clumsy fingers found the raw, angry flesh of her leg.
She jerked awake, groaning as the room spun, and her stomach lurched from the smells and mess. Taking shallow, rapid breaths, she gave herself the rest of the Morphine in the syringe without sitting up, slamming the needle into her other thigh.
Her empty stomach churned, and she gagged. Tears streamed from her eyes, and Sam concentrated only on holding her guts in, as the pain slowly sank back.
After a moment, she pried her eyes open. Cleanup had to be done. It had been an animal outside that had woken her. The mess was already drawing predators, even though she could hear the wind and snow beating against the cabin. Her dream flashed through her mind, the latest vision. A blizzard where places on the edge of the storm would see sudden temperature drops. The War’s death count was about to climb.
As if to prove her point, the storm outside picked up, freezing rain slamming against the windows, and she jumped at a quick movement in the corner. Squinting, her blurry eyes told her it wasn’t a threat. It was a mouse, and it looked normal. It was the first good thing she’d seen in weeks. Maybe she could find it something to eat.
Samantha forced herself to move, and to use the bedpan, leg crying the whole time, flaring up to shout at each jar and wobble. She gently cleaned herself with alcohol pads, relieved to see the dark red lines were lighter, and then forced herself to drink a cup of water and eat a pack of stale peanut butter crackers. She tossed one into the corner for the mouse to find later.
She already missed the fire, shivering and hating the dark, but she just wasn’t up to all the effort required to relight it. For now, she had a big stack of blankets and a couple of flashlights nearby, and that would have to be enough.
Leg starting to scream, Sam took another half syringe of morphine, eyes closing in bliss, and she jerked the covers over herself with careless hands, head swimming. She would rest a while and then she’d be okay. She told herself that repeatedly, needing the comfort now that loneliness had caught up with her on her solitary journey.
Sam had finally come to hate the constant silence that enveloped the world now, longed to hear a compassionate voice. She needed to be with people again and as soon as she was able, she would be on her way to Cheyenne. Even if the people at the base were gone, there was an EPA approved weather shelter there that few knew of. She would check it out and stock it for the winter, make it her hideout.
It would be with a heavy heart. She couldn’t help but hope there would already be other survivors there, but knew it was too much to ask. Likely, there would be only more pain and death.
Chapter Fifteen
February 16th, 2013
Near Roosevelt, Utah
1
“Harrison to Eagle One. Twelve o'clock, high.”
Adrian looked up from the roadmap he had splayed across the steering wheel, eyes narrowing on the huge black cloud coming over the distant hill towards them. It moved like a badly-trained platoon, spreading an evil shadow over the land, and Adrian leaned forward, “What the hell is…Shit! Convoy halt! Put it in park, and get down as low as you can!”
Doing 35 mph, he slammed both feet down, reaching for the trailer brake. Pulling the curved handle, he applied the clutch as he downshifted through half the gears, and then tugged the rear controls harder. The semi shuddered, grinding as the tires started to lock up and thick white smoke rolled from the back wheels.
Left hand straining to keep the heavily-loaded truck straight, he let go of the chicken-stick, using the pedals again, and the semi ground to a halt. “Neil, Kyle, get that truck of turkeys away from us!”
“What is it?”
Adrian groaned as their birds began clucking loudly, responding to the faint echoes, and were answered. “Everybody stay down! Fate sent us another wild card!”
The sickly flying birds headed straight for the convoy, an enormous flock of possible contamination. Adrian had enough time to wonder what species they had been - seeing bald wings and dead, black eyes - before all the flock arrived.
Birds began slamming into them, shattering windows, banging off doors and hoods with awful thuds, sending blood and guts flying as the blind, feetless radiation victims came in for a landing. They flew through open windows, pecking, calling to each other ceaselessly, and were killed by the vehicles nauseated occupants with horrified feet and fists. They squelched against trees, ripped apart on sharp, bare juniper branches, and hit the ground with wet, sickening thuds, the cloudy wind gusting them down faster than even the Eagles could handle. The flock was uncountable.
Adrian watched, knowing the sounds of their guns wouldn’t be enough to carry through the din of birds calling, screams, glass cracking, and awful, wet thuds. A fire of some kind? Loud stereos?
Now holding his vest over the cracked, gore-splattered windshield, Adrian saw Kenn step out of his truck, and knew instantly that the Marine was about to work his bolt and make himself look good doing it. About damn time!
That’s exactly what Kenn was thinking as he quickly climbed onto the roof of the school bus. Birds were diving in for sightless landings all around him, and he began blowing the air horn he’d taken from his glove box. The kids had their windows down and were being pecked and scratched by the incoming birds. Sick birds, and he knew Adrian would be relieved that only a couple had gotten through. The lower half of the glass was taking the brunt of the aerial assault so far.
Kenn began blowing birds out of the sky before they could get into an open window, rotating and blasting the piercing air horn, and those watching were amazed when the flock immediately began to divert from their straight-at-the-ground course. How had he known that would work?
All of the Eagles followed Kenn’s lead, the guards carrying the loud horns for backup in case the weather knocked out their radios. The flock circled the camp in groups, dipping and spinning. Some stayed high, but most were confused, not sure where to go, and their bodies dropped from the sky like rain.
The guns were starting to take their toll, the ground littered with carnage, and the rest of the flock finally seemed to understand there was anger simultaneously, returning to higher ground in ragged staggers. Neat lines were also a thing of the past for the animal populations.
Now, the guns were louder than the cries of the sick, blind birds, as they were flew by instead of trying to land. They called anxiously to each other to keep from getting lost. A minute later, they were out of sight, but their calls echoed for a long time through the gritty February sky.
“We’ll call it a day,” Adrian informed them. “Man on Point, take over.”
“Yes, sir!”
Kenn jumped from the bus, jeans and army jacket splattered with streaks of blood. He turned in a short circle, eyes evaluating, then waved Kyle over. He would cover things in the order he knew Adrian would have, and enjoy it that the Mobster wouldn’t be able to argue. For some reason, Kenn still found Kyle to be a rival, and though he had some hopes of swaying the Italian to his side, he couldn’t stop himself from showing the man where his place was.
“Have Neil do a perimeter, over in that onion field. Set it up and get them inside it. Send someone to the bus with first aid kits, and then set up a couple of showers and wash areas over here so we don’t contaminate our campsite. Make the wire tight and short.”
Kenn looked at his watch. “Almost lunch anyway. Tell Hilda to go ahead, but scrub the tuna sandwiches. There’s no way anyone will eat that shit now. Also, have Doug see to the Bitch. She’s taking pictures. When all that’s done, we’ll need new vehicles. You and your team see to it personally.”
Deeply-tanned hands clenched in anger, Kyle swallowed a nasty remark and got busy. He did indeed have a beef with Adrian’s new suit, but now was not the time.
2
Hours later, Adrian groaned as he lowered his 6’1” 230 l
b, sore body to the dark bank of Duchesne Creek, not caring that mud was soaking into his dusty jeans. Both his knees popped, head aching from the fumes of all the cars they’d stripped, tanks they’d emptied. It had been a 20 hour day for him already, and it wasn’t over, but this area was ugly, full of death, and devoid of normal life. Even the mutating ants wouldn’t live here, and that frightened him. Would spending a day or two on this ground make his people sick?
Adrian sighed. They had to have a break soon, but not tomorrow or the next day. He had settled for making camp under the retractable awning of an apple orchard (long since stripped, with the owners body rotting on the front walk), and after seeing that Kenn knew how he wanted things, Adrian had come here to steal a few minutes alone in the darkness, worrying.
Inhaling softly, the tired leader tensed at a ripple from the slow-moving water that said something was still alive in that reeking liquid. He tried to take hope from it, moving his hand away from his gun. They were only about fifteen miles from Roosevelt, Utah, and he was very aware that horrible, unspeakable things had happened there. It was bad enough to make him consider backtracking despite all the extra miles it would add.
This land was broken, rotting and muddy. The roads were unbelievable, impassable without the tow trucks. Bridges were gone, fallen and washed away. Nearly every street was crammed full of vehicles, most empty of their drivers, and Adrian assumed that was from people fleeing California and Washington. They had watched entire, distant hillsides of mud collapse in the last few days, the thick, reddish ooze swallowing homes and highways, and the weather was the cause. It rained each morning now, and the saturated ground simply couldn’t hold any more. Barely above freezing most nights, the cold sleet was the color of ashes, and added more weight to the muddy hills…more chemicals to the land.
He had people wearing extra layers to avoid contact with the precipitation, sure it was full of toxins, but Adrian was almost positive they were on the very edge of some type of ground zero here. Besides the possible danger, the views were hard to ignore, and impossible not to feel. Twisted, burned metal, crushed cars and building walls lay over the ground like grave markers. There were charred shoes, flattened fire hydrants, and of course, bones. Human and animal mixed together and scattered across the sagebrush land like a huge jigsaw puzzle that had been shoved off a table.
Where had all this damage come from? The nearest ground zero was in California, too far to have caused this and even his sharp, military mind couldn’t come up with another reason. This had to be the edge of a bomb zone, one that had come after communications fell, and he would add it to the map he was keeping.
Lightning flashed in the distance and the vivid reds and golds had his eye, but his mind was on his people and their broken country. How much of his beloved homeland now looked and felt this way? Most? Would they really be forced into the caves to survive, blown back hundreds of years in evolution?
“What new life can there be if we have to live it inside the rotting shell of the old one?” He muttered.
Adrian tensed again, this time at the soft crunch of a boot step, hand dropping to his hip even though he knew no one had gotten past the guards. There were three full shifts of men on the perimeter right now, and he could feel them watching, looking out for him too, even though he wasn’t specifically training them to do that yet. They were following Kenn’s lead.
“Adrian?”
He pushed his dreary thoughts to a back file. They would do what they had to. Maybe the mountains wouldn’t be as bad as he was expecting. They hadn’t voted on a final settling place yet, but he already knew that’s what they’d pick and he had his doubts about being able to make such a place safe for even a month, let alone for the nuclear winter he still feared was coming. The first would be the hardest.
Following the guards’ eyes, Kenn eased down the small, muddy hill and sat down, handing over a mug of hot coffee. Like Adrian, he didn’t notice or care that mud was seeping into his clothes. It didn’t matter anymore, only survival did.
“How are they?” The tone was that of a commander asking about his troops after a hard day.
Kenn’s answer was simple, honest. “Tired and down, same as you.”
Adrian nodded, but didn’t offer any excuses that would only be obvious lies. It was impossible to pretend everything was fine when you were rolling over the unburied bones of your fellow Americans.
“We’ll be better when we’re away from here,” Kenn stated as he took a sheet of paper from his pocket. He’d been thrilled to see Man on Point on his schedule this morning, and when the birds had hit them (coincidence or Fate?) he’d come through with full marks. Before the sick flyers, though, there had been surprise from the Eagles. Now, Kenn had more pals than he needed and had chosen to keep these current favorites at arm's length for the moment. Adrian was the only one he really gave a damn about.
“Sitrep whenever you’re ready,” Adrian guided, relighting the joint he’d been ignoring with his worried thoughts.
“Perimeter’s good, no serious injuries, radio’s quiet, everyone’s accounted for. The pictures from Cheyenne Mountain are in your tent.”
Adrian frowned, sure they’d be worse than those from Salt Lake City. “Anything?”
“No.”
When he didn’t ask for details, Kenn didn’t offer them, thinking their leader was depressed enough already. Adrian didn’t need to hear about the fry-room at NORAD they had forced open, but Kenn was sure he would have recognized the clever way it had been done. Someone among the Slavers had military knowledge and that didn’t bode well. Kenn planned to give Adrian the full in the report he’d been asked to deliver nightly about various camp issues and setups.
“Neil see ‘em yet?”
“No.”
Adrian nodded, unhappy the state trooper hadn’t gotten to go, but it had been Kenn’s mission and he hadn’t intervened. To make it up a bit, Adrian would let the loyal cop see the awful photos before the camp did. They didn’t have access to all the pictures he and the Eagles took, but the big places still gave people hope. He had to show them or they would go off on their own to check and maybe not come back. Some did anyway. Adrian wasn’t offended, only relieved when they returned. He needed them all.
“We have two new arrivals who weren’t with the group that’s following us. Wanted to know if we had any use for a doctor?”
Adrian’s happily surprised eyes swung to his, and Kenn grinned back, loving this feeling of pleasing the blond leader. “I knew you’d like that. John and Anne Harmon are husband and wife of almost forty years, had their own office in Rawlins. They were going to NORAD, but they saw the smoke. Then, they heard Mitch on the CB and chose to come see if we’re good or bad. They’d like to trade their medical skills for a place with us.”
“Damn, that’s great! It’s exactly what we need. Give ’em a couple days to settle in, and then put them to work.”
Kenn was still grinning, sure his next words would also please the boss, and they did. “Too late. He saw Zack’s arm and insisted on cleaning and stitching it right then, along with any other serious injuries. Neil’s setting him up in the corner near the livestock. Right now, they’re looking over the scratches some of the kids got. He says the birds were likely American Gulls.”
“Give them one of the biggest tents and have a red cross painted on it. The doctor's name should be in red, white, and blue - Safe Haven colors.”
Adrian made a mental note to have a talk with the man in the next week. With that eager attitude, he would probably be well-liked. That was one of the reasons Kenn was settling into the camp so fast. People were starting to realize that the Marine’s only goal seemed to be giving whatever was needed, and only those closest to Adrian had any objections.
Not that they’d go against his wishes after the meeting tomorrow night. He intended to make it clear where the Marine belonged, and it would help that Kenn never stole his thunder, didn’t seem to want it. His willingness to be only back-up
had earned him respect. Then, there was his quick reaction to the birds. Giving Kenn point had been a great idea at the perfect time, and it had been a good day for the camp.
“You wanna do this later?”
Adrian shook his head, frowning at himself in the windy darkness. “I’m easily distracted tonight. Go on.”
Adrian wondered if the Marine still planned to go back to Ohio. Kenn hadn’t mentioned leaving since that first day, didn’t have much to say about his old life at all (something most people here liked, but not Adrian), and he was very busy carving out a place for himself. Again though, there was the feeling of something being not quite right and it was stronger now than when the Marine had first arrived. Was it because Kenn thought no one had noticed?
“... and both women are on livestock duty, like you wanted. Water's down to three tankers; toilet paper, 12 cases. We changed four flats, two windshields, and exchanged 10 vehicles for others Kyle’s team found. The tires came from the reserve.”
Adrian had known they would be into it this week, and it made his stomach burn with worry. Their transportation was nearly as important as the food, but water was priority one. If they couldn’t keep moving and finding supplies, they would die, and their reserve wasn’t growing.
“What’s the biggest problem?” he asked tiredly, already knowing. Even with the carpool law he insisted on, they used a lot of fuel.
“Gas. We’re down to the reserves on it, too, after we fill up tomorrow.”
The reserves of gas were only a tenth of what was found and would hold them for 2 days travel, at best. They should have more by now, but people were scared to leave camp. Some might not like it, that too was about to change.
“We’ll get farther from here and start draining the tanks on every car, tractor, and lawn mower we can find until we get lucky and find a station with something still in it.”