by Mike Kraus
Dr. Evans slouched back in his seat and sighed. “Pity. Still, if what you say is true about what’ll happen when we run out of gas then I suppose I can continue suffering through the complete lack of suspension and cushioning back here.”
“Boys,” Jane said, “I hate to change the subject, but we should really discuss what we’re going to do now that we’re away from the complex and aren’t being chased. Speaking of which, I still can’t believe we’re not being chased.”
Rick instinctively looked in the side mirror, seeing nothing but empty fields and road stretching out to the pale Rocky Mountains. “Whatever their reason for buttoning-up was, it must have been serious.” He turned in his seat as much as possible to look at Dr. Evans in the back. “Jane’s right, though. We haven’t talked much about what you found in that database. Where exactly are we going?”
“We still need an authentication key to tell Damocles to shut itself off. I think, based on what I found in the database given to you by that soldier, our best chance is going to be heading to Washington and locating someone with access to it.”
Rick stared at Dr. Evans for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. “Seriously? What do you want to do, just walk up to the NSA’s front door and knock? I doubt anyone’s still home there and even if there was someone left they wouldn’t listen to us.”
“Be that as it may, this is the only path forward I see for us. You said you’d do whatever it takes, right?”
Rick’s smile slowly vanished and he nodded. “Yes. We have to stop this before it gets any worse. If nuclear options are coming soon on Damocles’s list then we have to act fast.”
“Then I don’t know what else to do. The only way to tell Damocles to stop is by communicating with it directly. That’s easy enough to do. But we need that encryption key. Without it we won’t be able to do anything.”
Rick sighed. “Okay. Washington it is. What if nobody’s around who can help us?”
“I spent a little bit of time at the complex the NSA used when they were working on the project. I can probably remember where to go and from there we’ll have to search individual servers—assuming we can even access them—until we find what we’re looking for.”
“How do you know the NSA was in charge?” Rick furrowed his brow. “I don’t doubt that they were but that seems like the kind of information they’d want to keep secret.”
Dr. Evans snorted. “You work with spooks long enough and you start to be able to tell them apart at a glance. The code monkeys they brought in had fresh NSA recruit written all over their faces, plus a couple of higher-ups were clearly working there too.”
“You think the facility will still have power?”
“Undoubtedly. Maybe not active but they have several different backup power mechanisms at their high-security locations. Damocles might have shut down one or two of them but not all. The quickest way we’ll be able to resolve this is by finding someone to help, so let’s hope for that.”
“Or maybe we’ll find a yellow sticky note on a monitor somewhere with the password we need.”
“Ha!” Dr. Evans laughed. “I doubt it. We should find all of the equipment we need to connect to enough Damocles systems to make the propagation of the shutdown command fairly fast.” He shrugged apologetically. “I know it sounds bleak but it’s the best we’ve got to go on.”
Rick turned back around in his seat and nodded. “Sounds like a plan. A terrible, rudimentary, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants plan. But still a plan.”
Chapter 3
Dallas, TX
The orange and yellow hues of a seemingly neverending firestorm blot out all other colors. The hellish glow is made all the more real by the addition of an intense heat that radiates through the streets, swept along by the wind and the buildings themselves.
The fires started a short time ago on the western edge of the city as gas mains cracked and burst, sending explosions rippling beneath three blocks’ worth of commercial buildings before automatic safeties kicked in. The safeties stopped the explosions from spreading to other sections of the city but did nothing to contain the fires that began to jump from building to building. Years worth of strategic dismemberment of building safety codes, as government and business colluded to make legal and illegal profits their number one priority, have resulted in a fire of unimaginable proportions.
As the fires spread people begin to panic. A few find temporary shelter underground but the lack of oxygen—all that is available is consumed by the fires—quickly leads to their demise. Most flee on the surface, running along streets, alleys and sidewalks as they leave everything but the clothes on their back to try and save themselves.
Mothers and fathers carry young children in their arms, cradling them and pushing their faces against their chests to try and protect them from the smoke, ash and violence. People shout at each other as they discover new routes they believe will save them. Some cross through a shopping mall, hoping that it proves to be a shortcut. Others descend into the sewers to try and find protection from the flames. Many try to cross a pedestrian bridge over an artificial canal, overloading it in the process and sending it—and themselves—crashing down onto the concrete below.
It is impossible to get out of the city with a vehicle. Most of them were destroyed in primary or secondary explosions before the gas fires began. The few vehicles that are left are unable to get out because there is no room for them to drive. The streets are clogged with the smoldering wreckage of all manner of cars, trucks and more.
A few who have bicycles, skateboards and even roller skates use them to great effect, at least initially. They are quickly overpowered by those without and their faster modes of transport are stolen and re-stolen again and again. Those who move too slowly in choke points are shot without hesitation, their broken and dying bodies acting as nothing more than an inconvenience to be trampled upon by those who are trying to escape.
For all of the fighting, screaming, crying, begging and pleading that goes on there is no salvation for most of the one million people who try to escape the flames. Driven by the winds and moving at speeds that cannot be matched by sheer force of will the intense heat and lack of oxygen kills all in its path. Those who survive are at the edges of the city, far from the explosions and left with escape routes both on foot and by vehicle. They flee before the approaching firestorm, seeking shelter beyond the city as they try to understand what is happening and what, if anything, they did to deserve such a torment.
The initial explosions killed two hundred and eighty people. Tens of thousands more have perished in the firestorm since. A million more will die before the day is out. There is no salvation for those in the city or in countless others across the globe. All the victims can hope for is a quick death, free from pain and suffering.
Most will experience the opposite.
Chapter 4
Somewhere between Ellisville, VA and Blacksburg, VA
“We’ve got to pick up the—”
“If you tell me to pick up the pace one more time I’m going to take these slippers off and jam them where the sun doesn’t shine!”
Dianne stifled a snicker at Tina’s annoyed response. Dianne had been encouraging Tina to try and walk faster ever since they got away from the compound but Tina’s footwear made traveling quickly over the rough terrain difficult to say the least. Moving through the trees, brush and open fields in the dark was challenging enough during the times Dianne dared to turn her flashlight on. She did so sparingly, though, as she wanted to try and avoid any possibility of being spotted by the group at the gas station.
The pair walked along mostly in silence except for the occasional whispers and huffing and puffing from Tina. A lifetime of working as a nurse meant she had been on her feet far more than she ever wanted and after retiring she confined her walking to an indoor treadmill, at the mall or while on vacation. Hiking through the woods—especially while wearing slippers—was not on her itinerary.
“How much farth
er till we get to your truck?”
“Not long. Five, ten minutes maybe.” Dianne turned and looked back at the orange glow behind them. “Good grief. You can still see the fire back there.”
Tina didn’t bother looking back as she replied in a gruff tone. “I’m not surprised. Jason nearly killed all of us with that explosion.”
“He also saved our lives.”
“Fair point.” Tina shrugged and called back to Dianne who was standing still staring at the glow and smoke over the hills. “You coming or not?”
A little under ten minutes later Dianne and Tina crested a hill, went down the other side and found the truck in the cluster of trees and bushes where Jason and Dianne had left it. It appeared to be untouched and there was no sign of anyone else in the vicinity. While that normally would have been a comfort to Dianne she suddenly grew worried.
“Where’s Jason?” Dianne turned on her flashlight and scanned the woods and field nearby. “Jason?” She hissed loudly, not wanting to yell for fear of attracting unwanted attention. “Where are you?”
“Where was he? When you were getting me out, I mean.” Tina opened the passenger door to the truck and climbed in, groaning as she rubbed her sore feet.
“On a hill overlooking the compound. He should have gotten here first, though. He had a faster path to the truck than we did.
“Maybe he had to take a different direction to draw them off or something? There were those gunshots coming from the gas station.”
“Maybe…” Dianne opened the truck and reached into the back, grabbing a couple of bottles of water and two energy bars from under the seat. She handed one of each to Tina and they both ate and drank, finishing their impromptu meal in haste. After Dianne finished draining the bottle she threw it into the back seat of the truck and closed the driver’s side door. “I’m going to look for him.”
“Not a bad idea.” Tina nodded. “I’d come with you except…” She motioned down at her bathrobe and slippers as she trailed off.
Dianne nodded. “There’s a pistol in the glovebox and more food in the back. Just stay in the truck and you’ll be fine. I’ll be back in t—wait. Did you hear that?” Dianne turned and crouched next to the truck, moving down to the back and through the trees to peer out into the field beyond. The sound of a faint groan had caught her ear and she scanned the dark field, looking for any sign of movement.
Off to the right of the field, near the road, Dianne finally spotted the source of the noise. A lone figure was walking towards the truck. The figure moved slowly, staggering along as they went, all while carrying a pair of packs on their back and a gun in one hand. Dianne stared at the figure for several seconds, trying to make sure it was who she thought it was before running forward.
“It’s Jason!” A voice in Dianne’s ear made her jump in surprise and she turned to see Tina crouched next to her.
Dianne ran out into the field, meeting Jason a good fifty feet from the truck. It was dark enough that Dianne could just barely make out the contours of his face, but as soon as she reached him she realized that something was terribly wrong.
“Jason? What happened?” Dianne whispered to Jason as he stopped and dropped to his knees. He slowly fell backward, letting the backpacks break his fall. His breathing was labored and slow and his shirt and jacket clung to his side awkwardly, like he had fallen in a puddle. Dianne flicked on her flashlight as she leaned down to see what was wrong with her friend only to gasp in surprise and shock at what she saw.
Dried blood caked Jason’s face, smeared across by his own hand as he wiped sweat from his forehead and cheeks. The blood appeared to originate from his right side, where his shirt and jacket were sticking to his torso and stained a dark red. Jason’s skin was exceptionally pale, looking a near-white in color. His eyes fluttered as he struggled to speak, barely able to pass more than a few breaths of air across his lips.
“What the hell happened to him?!” Tina stood over Jason and Dianne, pushing Dianne to the side to get a better view of the man lying on the ground. “Get that gear off of him and get him to the truck, quick! You got any supplies in the back of that truck?” A nurse for over thirty years of her life, Tina wasn’t about to let a little thing like being kidnapped stand in the way of her helping one of her friends.
Dianne nodded and looked up at Tina. “In the back seat. And our packs, too. Do we move him, though?”
“Of course we move him! And by ‘we’ I mean you! Get him in the truck, quick!” Tina was already heading back towards the truck as Dianne slipped the packs off of Jason and grabbed his rifle.
“Hang on there, Jason. I’ll be right back.” Dianne bolted for the truck and threw the gear into the back before running back. She pulled Jason up, feeling him struggle with every muscle in his body to keep from collapsing again. They walked back toward the truck with Dianne grunting under Jason’s weight as she held him upright. When they arrived Tina opened the door and got inside, then helped pull Jason in while Dianne pushed from the outside.
As they were finishing up getting him maneuvered into a lying position in the backseat Dianne heard a distant shout. She turned and saw the bouncing beams of half a dozen flashlights on the far side of the field. Wielded by six running figures the lights were drawing closer to the truck. Dianne swore under her breath and finished pushing Jason into the back before looking at Tina.
“Do what you can for him. We have to get out of here.”
Tina nodded, not bothering to look up at Dianne as she flicked on the overhead dome light in the truck. “Just try not to get shot, okay?”
Dianne closed the door and hopped into the driver’s seat. She twisted the key and cringed as the engine roared to life, signaling their exact location to all who were near. With no choice but to continue on she flicked on the lights, put the truck into gear and hit the gas. The truck lurched forward across the rough terrain, tree branches and overgrown bushes lashing at the sides and top of the vehicle. Dianne tried valiantly to keep the truck from bouncing around as they drove across a field away from the six men but as gunshots started to ring out she abandoned any hope of a smooth drive and focused on getting away as quickly as possible.
A total of four shots happened to connect with the truck but the worst of the damage was from the last one which took out one of the taillights. The rest embedded in the rear and side paneling, hitting nothing of importance and merely adding accents to the truck that Dianne hoped Jason would soon be able to fume and fuss about.
“How’s he doing?” Dianne glanced in the rearview mirror to see Tina bent over Jason with blood on her gloved hands as she worked on his side.
“Not good! Get us to wherever we’re going as fast as you can!”
***
As the white truck pulled away and vanished into the distance, the six men stopped giving chase and stood still in the field, panting as they tried to catch their collective breath. The first one to speak was tall, broad-shouldered and wearing a red shirt.
“Find them.” The statement was short and to the point.
“How are—” One of the other men started to ask a question when the man in the red shirt turned and stared him down.
“I don’t care how or how much trouble or anything else. I want solutions, not excuses. Find. Them.”
“It could take days… maybe weeks.”
“They have a truck. That means they have a place where they’re living. Maybe fuel and stockpiles of food, too.” He turned to look at the other five. “Which is kind of important now that we lost all of our shit!” Flecks of spit shot from the man’s mouth as he screamed, his face turning a similar shade of red as his shirt.
The other five men nodded and turned to head back toward the compound to salvage what they could. Preparations would be made to leave at dawn to start searching for the people in the white truck and the hours of darkness left were going to be filled with a great deal of toil.
The man in the red shirt stayed in the field for a moment, watching off into t
he distance in the direction where the white truck had disappeared. His mind was devoid of thoughts about the truck and its occupants; the only thing that passed through was the anticipation of his satisfaction when they caught the truck and its occupants and made them pay for what they had done.
It wouldn’t just be wonderful. It would be glorious.
Chapter 5
Near the Kansas/Missouri Border
With an uneventful drive across the Kansas plains behind them, Rick and his two companions drew closer to the border of Kansas and Missouri and the massive sprawling metropolis of Kansas City. With a population of nearly one million people the technology and oil boom of the last few years had nearly doubled the city’s residents overnight, putting enormous strain on infrastructure and support systems.
The selection of Kansas City as one of three worldwide test centers for a new type of solar cell meant there was excess cheap power for residents and businesses alike. This, in turn, fueled the growth of massive datacenters as internet-based companies added new datacenters in the area to take advantage of nearly zero power costs and attractive tax cut incentives. The discovery of a new source of oil less than thirty miles north of the city merely added to the boom as drilling, pipeline and other associated equipment was brought in and built to support the new industry.
Not one to turn down the influx of new commerce into the area the mayor of Kansas City worked with the governors of both states to aggressively expand the area, adding new office parks, power stations, oil refineries and more. Not everyone was happy with the changes to the area, though. Small businesses and residents suffered the most, enduring bumper-to-bumper traffic at all hours of the day, an increase in competition from newly built big-box retailers and a loss of unique character and charm as the population grew and changed in such a short span of time.