by Tim Washburn
“It looks like there are a few survivors,” Melissa says.
“Is that a good thing? Their shelters are burned to the ground and there’s probably not a speck of food left anywhere in the area. Probably what they’re digging for now. I’m shocked they haven’t migrated out of the area.”
Melissa tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe it’s not food they’re digging for. It could be they’re searching for survivors.”
“Hadn’t thought of that. You could be right, but I would find it hard to believe there are any survivors left alive in that pile of rubble.”
“But if it was your child, or your parents, or your siblings, wouldn’t you want to know for sure? Wouldn’t you want some type of closure? To see with your own eyes the body of your loved one?”
“For how long? At some point you have to let go and move on.”
“Yes, you do. Maybe they haven’t yet reached that point,” Melissa says. “Or, on a grimmer note, they could have been exposed to a high level of radiation and know their days are numbered and are desperate to retrieve their loved ones so they can all be buried together. Many people have a strong desire to be buried next to their family members. Strange, I know, dead is dead, yet you see it at cemeteries the world over.”
“If you’re correct, these people are what? Digging their own graves? Then what? Hope you die first so your friends have time to put you in the ground?” McDowell shakes his head. “Jesus, what a macabre world we’re left with.”
CHAPTER 58
Memphis
With his leg stitched up and a shot of penicillin in his left ass cheek, Zane is almost back to normal. Sarah slathers Zane’s wound with some antibiotic ointment and peels off her gloves. “I’ll put together some supplies for you to take.”
“Do you have any expired medicines that we could have?”
Sarah arches her brow. “Why?”
“To barter with. The bridge across the river is barricaded and those meds might be our ticket across.”
Sarah removes another key from her pocket and steps out into the hall to unlock a large cabinet. Alyx, the official flashlight holder, follows them into the hall. “These are all the meds I have,” Sarah says. “I’d prefer you only take what’s expired.”
“Will do,” Zane replies.
Sarah retreats down the hall and returns with a couple of plastic shopping bags. She sets to work filling them with the supplies she’ll need for the next few days, working side by side with Zane while Alyx holds the flashlight.
“Sarah, did I tell you my little sis, Holly, is pregnant?”
“No, you didn’t. How far along is she?”
“Eight months. I’m hoping we get home before she gives birth.”
“I’ll put together a medical care package for her. Lack of meds is going to be one of the most critical issues we’ll face going forward.” Sarah shakes her head. “I can’t believe Holly is married and pregnant. Last time I saw her she was in braces and worried about finding a prom date.”
“I know. Scary, huh? The older I get the faster time flies. How old are your kids now?”
“Ethan is six and Ellie is three.”
“I haven’t seen either of them since right after Ellie was born. Hard to believe she’s three.”
Zane clears his throat. “I don’t mean to change the subject, but how have you avoided the looters?”
“I think the location has something to do with it. And luck. I’d like to take all the supplies to my house but it’s too much to carry without attracting attention.”
“Your Mercedes is dead?”
“As a doornail.”
“We can put everything in the pickup and drive you home,” Alyx offers.
Sarah looks at Zane.
“Hey, sounds good to me,” Zane says. “That’s the least we can do.”
“Alyx, there are some empty boxes behind the receptionist’s desk. Would you mind grabbing them?”
“Sure. I’m going to leave you two kids in the dark for a moment and I don’t want any funny stuff going on.”
Sarah laughs and the other two join in. It’s the first time any have laughed in a long time. Still laughing, Alyx saunters down the hall, the flashlight beam dancing across the linoleum. She pushes through the outer door into the waiting room and the laugh dies on her lips. She clicks off the flashlight and slips back through the door. Using the wall as a guide, Alyx shuffles back down the hall. “Zane,” she whispers in the dark, “there are three suspicious-looking characters peering through the front window.”
“Did they see you?”
“I don’t know. But they must have seen the flashlight through the window in the door.”
“Where’s the shotgun?”
“You left it in the exam room.”
“And I left the rest of the shells in the damn truck. Slip me the flashlight and I’ll grab the shotgun.” They fumble the flashlight from one hand to the other and Zane feels his way back to the room. He clicks on the flashlight, spots the shotgun, and picks it up before killing the light again and shuffling back to the hallway. “Sarah, are you handy with that pistol?” he whispers.
“I’m pretty good with a target.”
“Ever killed anything?”
“No. I’m all about saving lives.”
“How about we switch weapons?”
“Okay,” Sarah says, a tremor in her voice.
Zane clicks on the flashlight and they exchange weapons before Zane kills the light again. “I don’t think they can bust through the back door, but keep an eye on it. The main threat will be from the front. I’ll handle that. Is the pistol fully loaded?”
“Except for the one shot I took at you two.”
“So I have twelve rounds to work with?”
“Correct,” Sarah says.
“Okay. Alyx give me your hand.”
Alyx reaches over and fumbles for Zane’s hand.
“You’re in charge of the flashlight. If anyone other than me enters the hallway, light ’em up to give Sarah a target picture. Sarah, all you have to do is point and shoot. In these tight confines, that scattergun will shred anyone attempting to come down the hall. And, most importantly, don’t shoot me. Alyx, hit the light for a sec, I want to make sure the shotgun is cocked and ready.”
Alyx clicks on the light and smothers the lens with her hand. Zane reaches over to cock the two hammers. “Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you see something.”
The sound of crashing glass startles them.
“Kill the light,” Zane whispers. “And, Sarah, keep a good hand on the gun. She kicks like a mule.” Hugging the wall, Zane makes his way toward the waiting room door. He’s kicking himself for not scouting the area the moment they arrived. He doesn’t know the layout of the reception area, but he also doesn’t know if those entering are armed or not. Not that it will make a difference either way, but he would have liked to know what he’s facing, especially if they’re armed with automatic weapons. Highly unlikely, Zane reasons as he pauses to expel the clutter from his mind. Can’t have clutter when entering a gunfight.
As he draws closer to the door he hears whispering from the other side. Two, maybe three, voices, which eases the burden somewhat. Maybe it’s just the three Alyx spotted. He’d hate to slip into the room and discover there had been ten more hiding around the side of the building. When Zane reaches the door, he drops to his knees and feels around the jamb to see which way the door swings. He discovers the door swings out—good for him, bad for them. He puts his ear to the door to listen. The whispers are closer and it sounds like the three are all grouped together. Zane takes a deep breath and slowly eases down the door lever. Positioned on his haunches, he slams his shoulder into the door and rolls forward into the lobby and comes up with the gun ready to fire. His targets are silhouetted by the daylight and Zane starts left and works his way right, double tapping each person as fast as the gun will fire. The last person is drawing a gun from his waistband when Zane’s sho
t pierces his forehead. He drops like his strings were cut. Within six seconds it’s all over. Zane pushes to his feet. He doesn’t need to check to see if the trespassers are dead. The muzzle flashes seared their deaths in his brain.
“Clear,” Zane shouts before opening the door. “I’m coming in.”
“Okay,” Alyx shouts.
“Sarah, is your finger off the trigger?”
“Yes, Zane. I promise.”
Zane opens the door and Alyx clicks on the flashlight.
“Alyx, Sarah, grab what you need to grab.” He strides down the hall and takes the shotgun from Sarah, uncocking the hammers. “We need to be out of here as quick as we can.”
Alyx hurries down the hallway to retrieve the empty boxes, the acrid smell of cordite and the metallic odor of blood filling her nostrils. She avoids looking at the carnage and grabs the boxes, hurrying back to the medicine cabinet. Zane moves back to the front to keep an eye on things, the shotgun at the ready.
When Alyx returns with the boxes, she and Sarah quickly empty the medicine cabinet. “If you’ll follow me with the flashlight, I have some syringes and few other things in the two exam rooms I’d like to take.”
“I’m right behind you,” Alyx says as they duck into the first room. Sarah quickly clears the drawers and moves on to the next room.
“Are we good, Zane?” Alyx asks, following Sarah into the next room.
“For now. But I’d really like to get the hell out of here.”
“Two minutes,” Sarah says.
Once they’ve cleared both rooms, Sarah tosses the items into one of the boxes and pauses to think if there’s anything else she needs to take. “I think that’s everything . . . No, wait. Alyx, follow me, please.” They retrace their steps into the first room and Sarah grabs a piece of equipment.
“What’s that?”
“A fetal heart monitor.” They step back into the hallway and gather up the supplies.
“We’re ready, Zane,” Alyx says.
Zane steps away and closes the door before striding down the hall. “Okay, this is how this is going to work. Sarah, you’ll unlock the door, the bottom dead bolt last. When I give the okay, you’ll crab-walk toward me, pulling the door open. I’ll have the shotgun up and ready, so I really need you to remain low until you’re behind me. I’ll step outside and look for threats before waving you out. Alyx, you’re driving. You have the keys, correct?”
Alyx digs in her pocket and extracts the keys. “Yes.”
“Put the boxes in the back. When you get the truck started, back out and straighten it up. I’ll climb in the back and you hit the gas. Sound like a plan?”
Alyx and Sarah answer in the affirmative. “Okay, Sarah, unlock the top two locks.”
Sarah clicks the two top locks open and squats down for the bottom lock. Zane moves forward, places the shotgun to his shoulder, and sights down the barrel and cocks the hammers. “Okay, Sarah.”
Sarah moves fast and the door swings open. Zane limps outside, the shotgun braced tight, his head on a swivel. He takes a quick glance around, turns back to his starting point, and makes a slower scan. His internal threat meter isn’t pinging, but he doesn’t rush his visual sweep. He lifts a hand and waves the women forward. They burst out of the door and hurry for the truck, their arms laden with supplies. They quickly place the boxes into the bed of the truck and climb into the cab.
Zane catches a flash of color in his peripheral vision. He whips around, his finger easing down on the trigger. It’s a young girl, no older than ten, standing at the corner of the building. Zane lifts the gun toward the sky and expels a shaky breath. He offers the girl a small wave and hurries over to the truck, his heart hammering. He puts a foot on the bumper, climbs into the truck bed, and holds on to the tailgate as Alyx hits the gas. As they zoom past, the little girl waves, having no idea she was a millisecond away from being killed.
CHAPTER 59
Weatherford
Gage is wondering why everything is always much harder than you ever thought it would be. What should have been a thirty-minute job is now stretching into the third hour. Trying to retrofit the old analog pressure gauge onto the turbine’s sophisticated braking system is like trying to put a distributor on a new Cadillac. And Henry’s continued probing of the electronics revealed they have more work to do.
Gage wipes his hands with a rag. “Henry, any chance a person could recover from radiation poisoning?”
Henry puts down his tools and turns to look at his son-in-law. “I don’t know a whole lot about the topic, but it all depends on the absorbed dose of radiation the person receives.”
“How do you know what the radiation dose was?”
Henry closes the lid on his toolbox and sits. “You’d need to have a Geiger counter or a dosimeter at the time of the exposure to know for sure. If those aren’t available, exposure levels are usually determined by patient symptoms after the event.”
“Which are?” Gage asks.
“Keep in mind, I’m far from an expert, but I’ve read a few articles on the subject. Initial symptoms would include nausea and vomiting, diarrhea, and at higher doses a severe headache, fever, and probably some cognitive impairment.”
“And there’s no treatment?”
Henry sighs. “Not in the most severe cases, say, over 800 rad or 8 Gy, I think the new unit of measure is called. At those levels the mortality rate is one hundred percent.”
Gage takes a seat on a piece of equipment. “How quickly would a person die at those radiation levels?”
“Gage, I’m not a physician or an expert. I assume we’re talking about your father?”
Gage nods.
Henry reaches for a water bottle and takes a sip, delaying. “Gosh, I don’t know enough to even venture a guess, Gage.”
“But not long, right?”
Henry takes another sip of water. “Probably not. Days, maybe a week or so.”
Gage nods again. “’Bout what I figured. I just don’t want him to suffer.”
Henry pushes to his feet and puts a hand on Gage’s shoulder. “Being in a coma is not such a bad thing at this point, Gage.” Henry steps over to the computer cabinet and resumes his work.
Gage stands and eases over to the side of the nacelle, looking out over the landscape. He inhales a deep breath, releases it, and sucks in another, holding this one a little longer before blowing it out. Feeling helpless is something new for Gage. Used to working his way through problems, the concerns about the health of Holly and the baby, and the sadness of his father’s condition are weighing heavy on his mind. And there’s not a damn thing he can do about any of it.
Gage returns to the turbine’s braking system and grabs a wrench from his toolbox. Working is about the only thing he can do to keep his mind off his worries. After a short break for lunch, Gage and Henry work through the rest of the afternoon. Finally, Gage puts the finishing touches on his retrofit, but they won’t know for sure it’s going to work until they free the turbine. As a matter of fact, there’re a lot of things they’re not going to know until the turbine begins turning. And that’s still a day or two away, at best. Gage tosses the wrench into his toolbox and wipes his hands on a rag. The work helped to cloud his mind, muddying his thoughts and feelings. But now that the work is done for the day, the helpless feelings are trying to burrow back into his brain.
Henry steps back from the computer cabinet and looks at the sky. “Susan will probably be here shortly. Are you about finished?”
“Yep. Done about all I can do, until we unleash this beast. You?”
“I’ve got more work to do. Hopefully I can finish up here by midday tomorrow then start on the step-up transformer.”
“How long’s that going to take?”
“Don’t know. Hopefully not long.”
The two tidy up their workspaces and Gage cranks the doors closed before both begin the long climb down.
CHAPTER 60
Off the coast of Virginia Beach, Virginia
The Dixons aren’t the only ones out fishing. Boats of all types are out on the water, their lines cast out to sea. With no grocery stores, and most of the land animals succumbing to radiation poisoning, life appears to have retreated back to the early days when dinner came from the sea. Brad and Tanner’s food stores are in pretty good shape, but won’t stay that way for long. They have less than fifty gallons of fresh water left in the tank, and it’s a constant worry that gnaws at Brad. He has berated himself more than once for not shelling out the five grand to purchase a reverse osmosis water system. With that they wouldn’t have to worry about their freshwater supplies. But who would have thought two weeks ago that freshwater would be a scarce resource? Certainly not Brad. He’s hoping that all of the marinas along the Outer Banks haven’t been plundered, and they might stumble upon one of the water systems. With his credit cards now worthless, he’d need to come up with something to barter with. Or steal it.
Brad stands and stretches, his fishing lure trailing behind the boat. He’d love to be able to anchor close to shore and swim to land, just so he and Tanner could stretch their legs. He picks up the binoculars and scans the shoreline a mile away. The Outer Banks begin north of the Virginia–North Carolina line and stretch south for miles. A narrow strip of land, the area is separated from the mainland by variously named bays and sounds and this water buffer spared the area from the wildfires that scoured the mainland. Brad continues scanning with the binoculars. The coast is jammed tight as teeth with people, some with tents, but far more are surviving under, or around, hastily cobbled-together shelters.