She exited the wooded trail and was now near the barren and rocky crest. She turned the wheel hard, crested the mountain and like magic the static lessened and the recorded message was clear enough to understand.
Kyle turned up the volume.
“To all listening, this is the United States government broadcasting on six hundred kilohertz from Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station. Anyone receiving this message and is in need of assistance proceed to the coordinates 38.7445 degrees north, 104.8461 degrees west.”
They both looked at each other. Tears welled up in Tiffany’s eyes and a huge grin spread across Kyle’s face. “Does this mean we’re going to survive? Does it?” she asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but I’m optimistic. We have to make a run for it.”
“We have the bus, we all can fit.”
“I’ll bring the truck to carry supplies and gear and we have a ton of diesel. I say we go for it.”
“You sure?” she asked.
He paused, thought for a second as the message replayed again. He smiled wide and said, “Yes.”
***
“All the kids are going on the bus along with Andy and Gwen. Joselyn you’ll go with Kyle in the truck. I’ll ride on the bus with the kids, and last but not least, George you’ll drive the bus,” Tiffany said.
“Please tell me you’re not one of those endless nervous talkers who drone on for hours during long boring drives,” Joselyn asked Kyle.
“I’m worse,” he fired back.
“Great, thanks a lot Tiff,” Joselyn groaned as she walked off.
Those who were riding the bus loaded on, except Tiffany. She walked over to Kyle who waited by his truck. “Triple check, you have the map and route?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“You have plenty of fuel. We’re not stopping if we don’t have to.”
“Correct.”
“Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Good, me too,” she said and headed back towards the bus. She stopped just before getting on and turned, “Kyle, one second.”
He waited.
She ran up, leapt into his arms and gave him a firm and passionate kiss. When she was done, she pulled away and looked deeply into his blue eyes.
“Whoa, that was awesome.”
“I love you,” she said.
Not expecting to hear that he didn’t know what to say so he stood looking dumbfounded.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted to tell you, that’s all. Now let’s get on the road.”
***
Kyle could feel the heavy weight of fatigue hitting him as his head bobbed down then snapped up.
“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Joselyn warned.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. We need to pull over.”
“No, no, no, we’re making good time.”
Joselyn picked up the small hand held radio, “Tiff this is Joselyn. We need to change drivers.”
“Okay, let’s pull over on the shoulder just past that sign,” Tiffany replied.
“Sounds good,” Joselyn answered. She gave Kyle a look and said, “You heard her big boy, pull over.”
Kyle hated to admit it, but Joselyn was right. He pulled the truck over with the bus parking just behind him. He got out, ran around to the passenger side and got back in. Joselyn simply slid across the bench seat.
“Can you believe I’ve never driven this big rig?” she said putting the truck into gear.
“Now I’m scared.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t drive, just that I’ve never driven this truck. I’ve been working at the camp for three years and I’m finally driving it.”
“Where you from?” Kyle asked slouching deep into the seat.
“Denver.”
“Sorry., why didn't I know that?”
“Don't apologize. This whole thing sucks I just don’t understand why anyone would start a war, especially a war that destroys the world. I mean, who does that?”
“Dumb people, politicians, that’s who. The same people who are now safe in their bunkers. You know, maybe we tell whatever politician we’ll meet at Cheyenne Mountain what we think about them,” Kyle joked.
“You get their attention and I’ll kick’em in the balls,” she laughed.
“God knows they all deserve a swift kick in the nuts.”
“Do you think they’ll have hot water?”
“I guess.”
“That’s one thing I miss so bad, a hot shower," Joselyn said.
“Miss? You mean, need,” Kyle joked waving his hand in front of his face.
Joselyn gave him a shit eating grin and raised her middle finger at him. “Fu…” The windshield shattered and a single bullet struck Joselyn in the face and exited out the back of her head. Her limp body fell onto the steering wheel and jerked it hard to the left at a forty-five degree angle. The truck tipped up on it’s right tires and slammed onto it’s right side then began to tumble down the road. Kyle was tossed from the truck after the second roll and hit the pavement, rolling to a stop thirty feet away. The truck smashed through a guard rail and barreled down a steep ravine.
George slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the truck and Kyle.
The children all started to scream and cry.
“Stop the bus!” Tiffany hollered.
George did as she said but just before he could bring the bus to a full stop, several bullets slammed into the windshield; one striking him in the head, the other in the neck. He fell to the right and down the front stairs of the bus.
The children were wailing in terror.
Tiffany got behind the wheel and finished stopping the bus. With it fully stopped she turned to face the children who were sobbing and screaming. “Everyone out the back, now!”
Andy, who happened to be seating in the far back, got up and opened the back emergency exit only to find three strange and armed men waiting with their rifles all pointed at him.
“Don’t fucking trying anything,” one of the men said.
“I won’t, please, trust me, we’re not armed, we have kids,” Andy said.
“Jump out of the back. That goes for all of you, out the back now. Arms up, no bullshit, and this will be your last warning, don’t fucking try anything or I’ll kill ya’.”
Andy jumped first. A second man grabbed him and forced him down on the ground.
One by one, the children all exited followed by Gwen then finally Tiffany. Like Andy, they were all made to lie face down on the road. Tiffany turned her head giving her a clear view from under the bus to where Kyle was lying in the road. She prayed he’d wake and come save them.
Several men boarded the bus. They went from seat to seat looking for anything of value. One came to the back and called out, “Nothing on here but a few bags of fucking potato chips.”
“If it’s food you’re looking for, we had it all in the back of the truck,” Tiffany said.
“Is that right,” the first man said. He gave his men a once over and asked, “Where’s Mike?”
“He's down the road in his position,” one of the men replied.
“That dumbass disobeyed my order, I said shoot the fucking tires. No, he had to go and shoot the driver, now everything we need is down at the bottom of that ravine.”
“It’s not all lost, Ray,” one of the men said. “We’ve got twenty-three kids and two women.”
“Yeah, I suppose it’s not all bad if we were fucking cannibals you idiot,” Ray snarled.
“No, you’re not seeing it. Maybe we can trade them. Huh?”
Ray thought for a moment and as if a light bulb went off in his head, he hollered, “Load back up boys.”
“All right, you heard, get back on the bus,” one of the men yelled pointing his rifle at them.
Andy and Tiffany were the last in line.
Ray came over, gave Andy a look over and said, “Who the hell will want a pussy of a man like him.”
The other men laughed.
Andy cringed and begged for mercy, “Please don’t hurt me.”
Ray pulled him out of line, drew his pistol and shot Andy in the head.
Tiffany screamed, “Who are you? You fucking monsters!”
“Well aren’t you a feisty one,” Ray said rearing his arm back and smacking Tiffany hard in the face.
The hit was so hard she fell against the bus and onto the ground. She rolled over and caught a glimpse of Kyle moving. He looked up for a second, just enough for them to make eye contact. Not wanting him to suffer the same fate as Andy she shook her head, signalling for him to stay down.
“Tyrone, toss that pretty little thing in the back. It’s time to tame the wild beast,” Ray said.
Doing as he was told, Tyrone, picked Tiffany up and took her onto the bus.
Ray called out, “Alright you sons of bitches. Good haul. Let’s head back to the ranch and have us a party!”
The bus fired up.
Kyle tried to move but his body was racked with pain. He slightly lifted his head as the bus drove past, the tires grinding the broken glass and debris from his truck into the pavement. He reached out with his bloody and battered arm and said, “Tiffany.” Unable to stay conscious he drifted off.
***
“Who is he, dad?” a young boy asked.
“I don’t know his name but it doesn’t matter, he’s a man in need,” a man said towering over Kyle who was still lying in the road. “You two, get this man into the van,” the man ordered.
Two other men ran over and picked Kyle up and carried him over to a large cargo van. They laid him in the back gingerly. The boy and his father got in with him.
Kyle opened his eyes but all he could see was two blurry figures above him. “Tiff…”
“What’s he saying, dad?” the boy asked.
“Sounds like he’s calling out for someone.”
The boy leaned in close and whispered, “If supplies are tight, why are we saving him? You always say the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.”
“Son, that’s a good question. I saw this man and for some reason, I felt like he needed to be saved.”
“He’s another mouth the feed,” the son said.
“He can have half my ration.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Because you’re thinking with your head. I’m thinking with something else. I don’t know who he is or where he came from. I don’t know if he’s a good man or a bad man. But something tells me, we need him. I could be wrong but I’m going with my gut.”
“But...”
The father held up his hand, “I know what I’ve told you. Let’s see how this plays out. Either he’ll end up being a savior for our fledging group or he’ll be the one that will put an end to it. Right now, I’m betting he’s the former.”
The driver jumped behind the wheel and asked, “We calling it a day?”
“Yes, take us home.”
“Okay, next stop, Eagle.”
CHAPTER 1
THE WASTES (FORMERLY GOLDEN, COLORADO)
NINETEEN YEARS AFTER THE WAR
Kyle stared at the shadows imprinted on the concrete wall. Who were they? Did they feel anything or was it over in the flash of a second? He asked himself as he reached out and touched the darkened marks. These weren’t the first shadows he’d seen and they wouldn’t be his last, but each time he wondered. How could something do that? He recalled reading the stories about Nagasaki and Hiroshima and how people’s shadows there were sheered onto walls and sidewalks. It’s one thing to read about something, quite another to witness it with your own eyes.
A strong wind whipped past him. He turned and looked out on the barren and dead landscape. In all directions, for as far as the eye could see, a once great forest lay flattened, its trees lay like blackened matchsticks. What had taken nature generations to grow, man had destroyed in a matter of seconds.
Kyle enjoyed his solo runs into The Wastes, it was always dangerous, but there he could find peace amongst the remnants of war. Today marked the furthest he’d ventured in The Wastes, in fact, he had the record now and would no doubt hold it for some time as the other drivers didn’t like the runs here and knew Kyle was always available to take theirs if they didn’t want to go. They preferred to stay on relative easy terrain, avoiding any area near where a major city once stood.
He stepped onto the shattered foundation of the house. His eyes darted around until he spotted what he was looking for…a stairway that led to a basement. Other drivers often overlooked basements. Not Kyle. They tended to be undisturbed treasure troves for scavenging. A pile of debris, mostly the charred remains of the house, blocked the stairway. Methodically, he pulled one piece after another out of the way, being careful not to puncture or tear a hole in his hazmat suit. Patience was his friend and thankfully he had it. In The Wastes, one moved and acted differently. Rushing often led to mistakes and in this environment, mistakes could be fatal.
Once the stairway was free and clear, he proceeded down only to stop at the bottom. A large metal fire door stood in his way. He reached down and turned the knob. Fortunately for him, it was unlocked. He turned the knob and pushed the door but it didn’t open. He put his weight against it and shoved.
The door cracked followed by a gush of air. That signaled to him this room hadn’t been accessed in years, maybe even since the day the war started. Kyle stepped back. He pulled out a flashlight and pushed the door fully open. He shined the light across the room before entering and confirmed what he surmised, no one had been down here for a very long time. The room was a snap shot out of time, all preserved under a thick layer of dust. Deciding it was safe, he entered.
His first observation of the basement was that it had been used as living space. In the far corner to his right, a sectional couch sat. On the wall in front of it hung a fifty-inch flat screen television. To the right of that he spotted a pool table.
He cast the beam to the left. There he spotted a washer and dryer with clothes still dangling from a clothesline that spanned from a large support beam to the wall.
Kyle beelined it for the washer and dryer. He grabbed a large basket and began to pile in the bleach and detergents. He paused just before pulling the clothes off the line.
“Let’s make sure you’re clean,” he said out loud. From a utility belt, he removed the wand from his Geiger counter, flipped on the device and waved it just an inch above the fabric. “Hmm, no discernable radiation. Excellent.” Happily, he pulled every stich of clothing from the line and placed it in the basket.
Next to the washer, a large metal storage cabinet teased him. He opened the doors to find a motherlode. Batteries, lightbulbs, towels, paper towels and one of the most coveted items, toilet paper. He emptied the cabinet leaving only a small box of finger nail polish. Just before walking away, he stopped, turned back around and took the box of polish. He shoved it into the basket.
After inspecting the left side, he went to the right. The first thing he did was remove the batteries from the remote controls.
He opened a small media console but found nothing of value.
In his excitement, he had started to work up a sweat as beads began to form on his forehead. Outside of tearing your suit, nothing was worse than your visor steaming over and making it impossible to see.
He glanced at his watch. Two hours until nightfall. He had lost track of time. He’d never make it back to the eastern boundary of The Collective and he wasn’t about to take the chance driving at night.
With no urgency to leave. He decided to camp in the basement and leave first thing in the morning. He stepped back and plopped down on the couch.
A cloud of dust rose around him.
On the coffee table, he saw a stack of magazines. He picked the top one up, a copy of WOMEN'S HEALTH and dusted it off. He chuckled as he read the cover: LOSE TEN FOR THAT HOT SUMMER BODY. “Losing ten isn’t quite the problem it was back then,” he laughed. TRY TH
E GLUTEN FREE VEGAN LIFESTYLE FOR A HEALTHIER YOU! He burst out laughing because after the bombs dropped, he hadn’t met one person who was gluten intolerant or vegan.
Taking a needed break to cool down, he skimmed through the magazine, his thick rubber gloves sticking and tearing the fragile pages. Losing interest, he tossed it aside. He leaned back and exhaled deeply. Curious as to what lied further back in the dark reaches of the basement, he aimed his light in that direction.
The light scattered the murkiness.
He slowly traced the back area, stopping when he saw something. He got up and walked over.
There lying on the floor, in a circle, were the skeletal remains of four people. Once more he asked himself who they might be.
Strictly by the size, two appeared to be children and two adults. If this was a family, then whose shadows were seared into the concrete retaining wall above? Grandparents? Neighbors? Friends?
His light settled on a thick, pink covered book lying next to a small skeleton. He bent down, picked it up and dusted it off. MIA’S DIARY, was written on the front. He glanced back down. “Hi Mia. Do you mind if I read your diary? I promise, I won’t tell, I’m just curious what happened to you.” Pausing as if expecting a response, he stood. After a moment, he turned and went back to the couch.
Getting comfortable once more, he opened the book to the date the bombs rained down, or as the Number One, his leader, called it, THE REBOOT. The Number One, coined the name after having spent his life as a computer programmer. He’d preach that THE REBOOT, was a good thing for humanity which always resulted in Kyle rolling his eyes. How could the death of billions be a good thing?
Kyle found the page he was looking for and read.
August 19. I should be getting ready to go to the movies, but instead, I’m stuck in the basement with my annoying sister and my parents. Someone on the television just said that bombs, nuclear bombs, have landed back east. Dad says we will be fine. That Denver isn’t really a target. I admit I’m scared but I’m also irritated. Does this mean I’ll miss the End of Summer Dance? I can’t. Today was the day I was going to ask Hudson. Why is this happening? I hate my life.
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