Protocol One

by Jacqueline Druga

  We weren’t out of the van a minute when Jackson threw up.

  “You okay? Can you do this?” I asked him.

  Jackson nodded.

  Melissa carried that baby, she covered herself in a blanket, as did Peter.

  Craig and Skyler carried their items, while sharing a blanket.

  Like me and Jackson, Tony didn’t have much. His bag was tossed over his shoulder and he carried Joie, while leading the way.

  The shiny blankets were barely visible through the fast falling ash, and I focused on Tony.

  We moved slowly, especially those of us who shared a blanket. The temperature rose and not only could I feel the heat on my back, the tiny particles that hit against my exposed hand burned.

  Jackson was dragging. I could feel that we had started up a slope, and getting traction wasn’t easy. My feet slipped and the soles of my shoes were hot.

  A few minutes into the journey, Jackson vomited again.

  We were slow, and far behind. We couldn’t keep up.

  It grew increasingly difficult to see. The ash kept resting on my eye lashes but I feared rubbing them.

  Every part of me tingled with a burning sensation.

  Jackson slowed down even more, his balance was off. Twice, while trying to guide him, I fell knees first and Jackson stumbled with me.

  I wanted to cry out for someone to help, but everyone was ahead of us. Too far to hear my call.

  Then Jackson stopped.

  “We have to keep moving. We have to.” I told him.

  “Mom, I can’t. I …” His eyes rolled back and then Jackson fell face forward to the ash.

  The weight of his body carried me with him and I went down too. The ash bellowed upward in a cloud.

  “Jackson!” I screamed.

  I rolled him over. Was he breathing? My son, my poor son. “Oh God. Get up!” I placed my hands to his cheeks. “Get up. Please get up.” I shook his face.

  Jackson didn’t respond.

  “Jackson!”

  I was done. How far behind had we fallen? I wanted to cry.

  I lifted my head in one final attempt to call out when I saw Tony headed our way. In fact, everyone had stopped.

  They stopped for us and walked back.

  “Keep going!” Tony told them. “Head up the hill.”

  Tony’s face peeked through the blanket and he reached down to Jackson.

  “He’s not responding,” I whimpered “What do we do?”

  Tony took off his blanket and handed Joie over to me. “Keep her covered.” he said. “Get her up that hill. You’ll see it. You’ll see the fence.”

  “What ….”

  His dark eyes stared intently into mine. “You carry my child, I’ll carry yours.”

  “But ...”

  “Go.” He instructed.

  Joie's arms latched tightly around my neck and her legs gripped around my waist. I told her to hold on, while I adjusted my bags and wrapped the blanket around us.

  “Go,” Tony said, then he covered Jackson completely with the blanket, bent down and lifted my son.

  I tried to get a footing, to move, but I kept looking back.

  Jackson was not a small person. He was tall and lanky. Tony didn’t hoist him over his shoulder because of the head injury. Instead, as hard as it was to move in the ash, as heavy as Jackson was, Tony exposed and unprotected from the burning elements, trudged onward without a flinch with my son in his arms.

  22 – Sanctuary

  Lillyville Bunker

  I don’t know how long it took to walk up that hill. It seemed to take forever. I had to put Joie down a couple times to take a break and then continue on.

  No one spoke, everyone stayed focused. Especially Melissa. She led the pack, baby in arms, bound and determined to get there with that child.

  As far as my child, I kept looking back. Each time, hoping that I would see Jackson walking. But he wasn’t, he was still in Tony’s arms. Tony, like me, had to stop. I’d watch him pause, bend down to one knee, take a breather and hoist Jackson once more to continue trudging on.

  The mask was too big for Joie’s tiny face and it kept slipping. She started to cough and I cradled her head between my head and shoulder.

  “Shallow breaths,” I told her. “We have to be close.”

  Even I, with that mask over my mouth started to feel it. A tickle in my throat and sluggish breathing. I could only imagine how easily a small child would get ill.

  It was gray, completely gray. The ash fell steadily and sweat ran down my face due to the increasing temperature. The sweat mixed with the ash, causing a soot. My legs grew heavy and sore. The ash had accumulated up to my ankles.

  Then I spotted Melissa. She took off, in fact, she started to sprint. I knew that could only mean one thing. She saw it.

  I gasped out emotionally, hugged Joie and told her. “We’re here. We have to be here.”

  And finally, I caught a glimpse of it, or rather the fence. It was the type of fence used for high security, and that invigorated me to keep going. My legs hurt, breathing was tough, a burning hit my gut from carrying the weight of Joie and my bag. Yet suddenly I had the energy. The fence drew more and more into my line of sight.

  I couldn’t see anything beyond that fence. It looked barren, deserted and dark. Like a dismal winter day.

  Melissa neared the fence and when she did, two armed guards raced over. They were covered completely, face and all, in some sort of military hazmat suits. They fiddled with the fence for a second and then they opened it.

  Melissa pointed back and then one of the guards disappeared quickly with her.

  The thick, high fence which reminded me of a cage, extended far and wide. It surrounded the circumference of the property.

  Once I drew close enough, I was able to see more. It looked like an empty field. I wasn’t even sure there was any grass. Not that it mattered.

  There were maybe four or five trees scattered around. Where did the others go?

  I was one of the last to get to the gate. Everything came into view.

  A good hundred feet away was a small beat up shack but that wasn’t where the others were headed. Beyond that, far beyond that, even with the ash in my eyes, I saw the unmistakable entrance to the bunker.

  There was no hiding it. Not like it needed a sign. Just a small grade or hill of dirt and the thick concrete triangle entrance way that wasn’t very deep. The doors were wide enough for a vehicle to drive through. They were open and all I saw was black. No lights.

  Our people moved toward the bunker.

  The guard put his hand on my back, then pointed. But I waited. I waited until I saw Tony was close enough before I walked over.

  Half way there, I noticed a light. It was orange and it lit the passage way. Probably a lantern, because it didn’t have the whiteness of artificial light. I would have assumed it was emergency lighting of some kind.

  The guard took the blanket from me, then dusted off some of the ash from my body and I stepped inside and set Joie down.

  “I want Daddy.” She ran to the entrance.

  “Stay here. He’s coming.” I pointed then looked around.

  From what I could see of the interior, it looked like a big garage with concrete walls all around. A single camping lantern sat on the floor. It only illuminated a short distance. There were unlit emergency lights all around.

  Craig began to open his medical box, taking things out that he would need. He took the single unused blanket and laid it on the floor. “I’ll check the baby, after I check Jackson. I need water. Does anyone have water?”

  The one guard handed him a canteen and Craig stood up to make way for Tony who carried Jackson. “Place him here,” Craig said.

  Tony laid him down and I immediately raced over. My son looked bad. His skin was pale. “Is he breathing?” I asked Craig, my hands smoothing over his face. I just wanted to hold him, he was still my child, no matter how old he was.

  Craig lowered the stethoscope. “
Yeah. I need some room. I’m sorry.”

  I understood. I was hovering and I inched back.

  “Where are the lights?” Tony asked. “Why are there no lights? What happened? Did something go wrong?”

  The guard removed his hood. “No, Boss. Not that we know of.”

  “Did our engineer not make it?” Tony quizzed.

  Another man stepped forward. He wasn’t in any protective gear and emerged from the shadows. He was a man in his late twenties, early thirties, and he wore a baseball cap. “That would be me. I’m Tom. Everything is below. Batteries are still encased so we couldn’t fire up any flashlights.”

  Tony tossed up his hands. “Why not? We need to get these people below. We have a sick baby and an injured man. We have to get them to the medical setup.”

  Tony was right. Why were we in a concrete hallway? I watched as Skyler tried to get Jackson to take water and Craig prepared an IV line.

  “I’m on my last bag here,” Craig said. “I know we have some below.”

  “That’s not the problem,” Tom said. “If we take them down, we take them down into a black pit. We had to wait for you to power up. We got the order to button the hatch. That locked it down as we powered down. This was the location with the fail safe. Because of its location being where it is and the general ability that people would have to find it, we installed the fail safe so the bunker would be useless if Anna Jenner wasn’t here.”

  I moved forward. “I’m here. I’m Anna.”

  “She’s here. Power up.” Tony instructed. “I don’t understand how identifying her would matter.”

  “It’s not identifying her,” said Tom. “The fail safe is a lock. A manual combination code over the main door. Only she knows the combination.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know the combination.”

  “The Senator picked it himself and said you would know it,” Tom stated.

  “Did you think …” Tony said. “To … I don’t know... leave a man down there?”

  No one answered.

  “I didn’t think so. Ok, let’s unlock that door,” Tony said. “And Tom, you know what to do once we have it open.”

  “Main room is first level; I’ll fire up the generators and get the power on.”

  “You ready?” Tony asked me.

  I sighed out and looked over to Jackson. “I hate to leave him.”

  “It won’t take long,” Tom told me. “Really, you can come right back up.”

  I nodded and held up my hand, then walked over to Jackson and crouched down. “Hey, sweetie. I have to go. I’ll be right back.”

  Craig looked at me. “He’s pretty weak. I think... I think we may have some hemorrhaging. That explains him being out of it. I know we have rough surgical capabilities downstairs, but I need you to be aware. In case … in case I have to operate.”

  “How … how did this happen? He was fine.”

  “The injury was worse than we thought. It’s so hard to tell without an x-ray or scan.”

  “He’s gonna make it, right? He’s okay; it’s just a head injury.”

  Craig laid his hand over mind. “Anna, I don’t know. I really don’t. I won’t know until I get him downstairs and for that to happen, you have to get these lights on.”

  “Mom …” Jackson called out weakly.

  I gasped in happiness and shock, and clutched my child’s hand. “I’m here.”

  Jackson tried with diligence to open his eye fully. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s okay.” I leaned forward and kissed him. “You don’t need to apologize. Just get better for me.” I kissed him again. “I love you.”

  “I … I love you.”

  Exhaling, I smiled in relief and my eyes met Craig’s. “He’s conscious. That’s a good sign, right?”

  Craig closed his eyes for a second. “It’s a good sign.”

  “Thank you.” The feeling of dread and concern over Jackson was replaced with some optimism. My son had opened his eyes, spoken and said he loved me. The best way to help him was to get those lights on.

  I stood and finally looked around at everyone. They were waiting, watching, doing nothing much else. What could they do?

  Tony had lifted Joie and embraced her.

  Nelly took her hand, and brought the child into the folds of her protective arms.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  Tom then announced. “We have to be careful. It’ll be dark.”

  “Let me guess,” Tony quipped.”You only brought up one lantern.”

  “My phone.” I reached down to my bag. “We can use it as light. It works, remember? And …” from my bag, I pulled a candle.

  “You have a candle in your purse?” Tony asked.

  “I have several. I grabbed them from the rations we left behind. I don’t have a light though.”

  One of the guards commented. “We have like ten thousand down stairs.” Then mumbled. “Lot of good it does us.”

  The smoker. Nelly. I knew she had a light. I no sooner faced her then she was pulling out a small box of matches from her smoker’s paradise handbag.

  “Here,” she said. “I didn’t bring a lighter. They don’t last.”

  “Thank you.” I clutched the matches. I glanced one more time to Jackson, said a short prayer in my mind that he’d be all right, then I walked toward the interior bunker door.

  To me, at that moment, that door was our last hurdle and then we’d be safe. I was sure of it.

  23 – The Last Match

  The guards sealed the blast doors to the bunker to keep the ash from blowing into the bay. It was time to get the lights turned on.

  Tom led the way and reached for the door. “We’ll have to go through this, down a short corridor and then down some stairs. That’s the door you need to open.”

  I understood. Tony was behind me and before we went through, I said to him. “I just want to thank you for carrying my son.”

  “You already did.”

  “Well, I’m thanking you again because I don’t remember.”

  It was already darker by that door, when the three of us arrived. When Tom pushed on the metal door, it looked liked he pushed into a black wall.

  I handed Tony the candle and reached for the matches.

  “Don’t drop any,” Tony said. “I know we have ten thousand, but if this doesn’t work and this place doesn’t light up, we’re gonna be using an awful lot of them.”

  That match, that single match. It could very well be the first of many to give us our light or it could be the last I had to strike out of necessity.

  There was a certain amount of fear in lighting that match.

  The orange flame, the candle would both be reminders of the dark ages we were about to enter.

  I finally lit the match and then the wick on the emergency candle and passed it to Tom.

  He led the way, but even my candle didn’t give that much light or really allow me to see what things looked like.

  We made our way down a short corridor to an open doorway.

  “Careful,” Tom said. “Stay close and hold the rail. The steps themselves are narrow as it is. So don’t overstep.”

  They were narrow and steep. We walked slowly down ten steps, around a bend, down ten more, and so forth. I dreaded walking back up them.

  It felt as if we went down five flights, but I lost count worrying about the journey.

  “Once we get the lights on, you’ll be able to see on the way up.” Tom said.

  “Keep in mind,” Tony said. “I only oversaw the designing. If I had I designed it, I would have put a full elevator in.”

  “We have a lift,” Tom said. “From storage up. And don’t let him blow smoke up your ass, I saw the final requisition, and the orders. No elevator. Anthony something or other.”

  “Guilty. Man, is it dark.”

  “Yeah, I feel bad for the chickens.” Tom inched back to show me the lock.

  I was still mentally questioning the use of the word ‘
chickens’.

  “Here it is.” He showed me an old style dial latch, all set to zeros. Six digits were needed to open the door.

  “That’s it?” Tony pointed. “That’s the big, hi tech security system and fail safe?”

  “There are one million possible combinations,” Tom quipped. “You gonna try them all?”

  “No,” Tony shook his head. “I would use C4 and blow the door. But that’s just me.”

  “Not all of us walk around with C4.”

  “Gentlemen,” I interrupted. “Let’s get this done. Tom hold the candle. Cause I don’t have any idea what the number would be.”

  “Six digits, has to be a date,” Tony suggested. “Try it.”

  I took a breath and put in the first date that came to mind. I rolled each digit to be precise. My birthday.

  Nothing.

  Jackson’s birthday.

  Nothing.

  Not even Gil’s birthday.

  Tony suggested again, “Try your anniversary. He is sentimental. After all the guy built you this shelter.”

  I tried the anniversary. Nothing. It didn’t work.

  I growled in frustration and turned around, back against the door. “I have no idea. I tried the dates only I would know. I can’t imagine a date, Gil knew, that I for…” My words slowed. “Got.” And I spun around.

  “I think she knows.” Tony said.

  After rolling in the digits, I actually heard the click. “Yes.” I clenched my fist.

  Tom opened the door and slipped inside. “Give me a second to get the generators started.” He raced down the hall and to the next door.

  “What date was it?” Tony reached for my phone and used it to give us some light.

  “The day our divorce was finalized.”

  “You remembered that?”

  “Actually, Gil did. It was finalized on April Fool’s day and he kept insisting it didn’t count. I always said it was the one date I wouldn’t forget. Because of when it was.” My head cocked when the beautiful sound of humming rang out.

  Next thing, Tom shouted, “And the Lord said ….”

  A series of shifting occurred and the whole area lit up.

  I smiled. “Let there be light.”

  We were a tubular hallway; it looked like a well painted storm drain with a flat floor.