Dark Grid (Book 1)

by David C. Waldron

  Halstead and Jackson met her at the lot to escort her into the base proper.

  “Stewart is trying to explain why it is imperative that everyone read the instructions on how to use the saw mills to a couple of overzealous E4 soon to be E3s. The fact that he isn’t here is, I’m sure, adding to the exuberance of his explanation,” Halstead apologized for Stewart.

  “No apology necessary, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Not that either of you actually needed to be here to babysit me getting to my tent either. By the way, where is Ramirez?” Mallory asked. “I figured he’d want to be front and center for the grand unveiling of his masterpiece. After all, from what I’ve seen so far--and the further I get into it, it continues to hold up--the reports actually don’t do it justice.”

  “Honestly, I think he’s hiding,” Jackson answered. “Personally, I think he’s afraid that if you see him now, you’ll promote him on the spot, so he’s laying low for the first little while, at least until you catch your breath.”

  Mallory shook her head. “I’ll have to find something to complain about and then call him to the command tent so I can ream him out. Make him feel better.” They all chuckled at that as they approached the command tent.

  “We all know you don’t micromanage, but we also know you hate going without face-to-face interaction for more than a couple of days. Nobody’s actually in the command tent right now waiting to have a meeting, but just about everybody that you’ve been on the radio with over the past week is within a stone’s throw for the time being,” Halstead said as he pulled back the tent flap.

  “I appreciate that, as I was ruminating about that very thing for at least half the drive. I don’t want to keep everyone on pins and needles waiting to be called into my August presence, but I do want to get a couple of things settled first, and at least find where I’m going to rack out and where communications are at. That and the latrines, showers, and the mess hall, though I can probably follow my nose to the latter in the morning.”

  “As you’d expect, everybody’s keeping pretty busy for the time being, so take your time Top. You all actually made a little better time than expected, too. Not much traffic on the roads?”

  “None whatsoever. I think people are starting to worry in a big way about gasoline and diesel and not driving at all if they don’t have to. I know we’ve got it made for the time being, but even our supply is severely limited given how many vehicles we’ve got. How do things look for long term viability here, on this spot? It’s still only June, but we need to start looking at long term structures because it does get cold here in the winter and I personally do not want to camp out in a tent all winter, but I also refuse to be in a house while everyone else is in a tent. We need to take a look at some type of barracks structure that can have multiple uses--all men, all women, families, etc. Either all in one building based on floors, or based in multiple buildings, depending on what we can get built. More like dormitories, I guess.”

  “So, here I am, dumping on you two instead of enjoying my guided tour and saving it for the command meeting.”

  “And today should be any different than any other day, Top?” Stewart chimed in, as he’d overheard the last little bit while he caught up to the group.

  “Point. Stewart, what’s our total power generating capacity right now?” Mallory asked.

  “Total is 9.4MW, but that’s not usable. Usable is 7.8MW.” Stewart replied.

  “We need to start looking at something other than gasoline or diesel-powered power generation though. We’ve only got so much of that available in the near term, and yes, if it’s remotely liquid in form and mostly a petro-chemical, the vehicles will run on it, but I’d rather not be forced into a situation where I have to start running the rigs on transmission fluid.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Ok, that goes on the list of ‘Conversations to Have Soonest’ I guess. Enough shop, time to gloat, and I can see that you’re all three about to rupture. Who’s first?”

  The three Sergeants looked at each other and then made a show of doing ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’. “Oh for crying out loud,” Mallory said, “I HAVE left you out here without adult supervision for too long.”

  With that they headed off towards the saw mills, for a couple of reasons. It hadn’t been Ramirez’s idea, and so he wasn’t likely to be there, and because the men were starting to get into the swing of things, and so they wanted to show them off. The SFCs were NOT trying to downplay Ramirez and his contribution. In fact, they all three agreed, to a certain degree, with his assessment, and thought hiding was a good idea. They were going to try to track him down last, however, for the exact opposite reason.

  Kyle had been killing himself, and to a lesser degree his men, for the last five days to get the base ready to take everyone in, and had done a truly amazing job. The base looked like something that had taken ten times as long to set up. It kind of rankled him that people mentioned the parking lot so much because, well, it was just a PARKING LOT! The base, however, looked like a small town, with tents where all the buildings should be.

  The streets were narrower, and there wasn’t a bank or a saloon or other such nonsense, but there was housing for everyone with room to spare. There was a firing range for practice, and hadn’t the bulldozer been nice when it came time to set up the berm for that? Karen, Rachael, and Sheri, with the help of a number of the other parents, were looking to set up a whole slew of activities to keep the kids, of all ages up to 16, occupied, including school if necessary come the end of August. There was a mess hall that was large enough to feed two-thirds of the entire current population at once, and another was being constructed (you didn’t erect a mess hall, as that is one of the few tents you do not want coming down) since the population was growing.

  There was redundant water purification, and multiple latrines and bathing facilities (thank you backhoe, thank you, thank you, thank you). A number of the tents did have power, as their primary function required an attached generator, so the base was never really quiet or dark. And a number of tents were being re-erected over raised wood plank floors, thanks to the saw mills.

  The point was that all three Sergeants wanted the tour to end with a First Sergeant who was as overwhelmed as she’d ever been and a completely surprised Staff Sergeant., The classic unflappable force meeting the imperturbable object, to thoroughly garble an otherwise perfectly good analogy. No, they didn’t want him promoted on the spot, but they didn’t expect him to be either, because they didn’t think that authority had been handed down from on high, and Top wasn’t like that even if it had been. They did want him recognized though, and this oughta be good.

  The nickel tour took almost a half an hour, and ended almost back where they started. One of the husbands who’d gotten swept up in the ad hoc activation of the Guard and subsequent migration was a carpenter by trade, specifically cabinets and some smaller furniture. His wife’s squad hadn’t been shipped out to the Advance Area yet when Joel had had his epiphany about the saw mills, but he’d approved wholeheartedly when he’d seen what was going on.

  He’d also proven invaluable a number of times when it came to identifying different qualities of wood, ages, a couple of diseased trees that they’d ended up burning, and how best to trim, square, plank, or rough cut the wood, depending on the end use. They’d come close to using some really soft wood for floor planks at first, which would have been really easy to nail into place but would have rotted and splintered and come apart after not a lot of use.

  Ramirez was there with Terrence Holcomb, the carpenter, half a dozen others. When a couple of the guardsmen looked up, Stewart put his finger to his lips and they continued on with what they were doing, which appeared to be some sort of instruction. When they were close enough, and Mallory could see that nobody would die if Kyle either jumped, dropped, or swung whatever it was he was holding--she struck.

  “Sergeant Ramirez,” Mallory barked.

  To his credit, Kyle only flinched a little. He’
d been holding a metal file, and he was in the act of setting it down when Mallory called his name. Man, he thought, I really thought I’d be able to dodge her longer than this. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the file down as he came to attention and did an about face.

  “First Sergeant Jensen?”

  “Front and center!”

  Ramirez was no slouch on the parade ground; he’d been doing this for a long time. He was filthy dirty, covered in sawdust and, more recently, metal filings from sharpening a chisel, and had been sweating since he woke up. When he marched over to Mallory, however, he made it look like he’d just stepped out of the Army’s version of GQ. The top of his head never bobbed, his eyes never moved from three inches above Mallory’s head, he executed the quarter turn necessary to face her at the end flawlessly, and despite what he’d told Eric a week ago he looked like he could hold the perfect attention posture until Hell itself froze over.

  The three Sergeants behind Mallory smiled to themselves, each for their own reasons. Yeah, they’d gotten him, and not in a bad way, but the man was good, he really, really was.

  Mallory didn’t release him to his ease, “I have just completed a tour of this facility, Sergeant, and I must say, I am shocked, Shocked at what I have witnessed.” How thick do I spread this on? He can’t think I’m mad, not really. He knows I’m not stupid, and he knows how well he’s done. So instead she was just silent for a few seconds, and she watched him. Wow, he isn’t even clenching his jaw! He’s not fighting a smile, he’s not sweating anymore, he’s blinking but just barely. I wonder if he’s exhausted and just can’t feel right now.

  “Sergeant, in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have expected you to get this much done with ten times the people and twice as much time.” Still no reaction, maybe he’s broken. “At ease.”

  Kyle changed his stance, and took a little deeper breath.

  “Ramirez, how in the world did you get so much done?”

  “Top, not getting it done wasn’t an option. We had people who needed to be out of the Armory, and those people needed a place to come to. We had trucks and drivers who wanted and needed a place to come to, and they needed a place to park. I’ve never believed in ‘We don’t have time to do it right the first time but we have time to do it again’. You and I know that’s BS.”

  “In our line of work you do it right the first time or you die. I’ll be honest with you, I can’t believe we haven’t lost a limb or a hand or even a finger to the chainsaws or the mills, but we haven’t somehow. No fires, nobody crushed or run over, nobody fell into the holes we were digging or got buried under the piles we were pushing around. No, I’m not going to knock on wood either, because that’s BS too. It’s not luck, because luck is just skill and preparation meeting opportunity.”

  “We got it done because not getting it done wasn’t an option. Every single person here has done some pretty amazing stuff, including the kids. Just the fact that the older ones are keeping the younger ones out of trouble is a huge help, and they are doing it without being asked. You know that Joel came up with the saw mills; Terrence here is a carpenter and is already working on what to do with some of this wood outside of flooring and plank siding.”

  “Those are just two specific examples based on where we’re standing right now, and frankly everyone is doing their level best to do the same, all because it absolutely had to be done. Failure was, is, and will not be an option.”

  Mallory had kept her face impassive up until this point, and although her face didn’t split in half with the grin, it was a genuine, teeth showing, happy smile. “Sergeant Ramirez, thank you. The job done here has been phenomenal, and you are to be commended.”

  “If you truly wish to remain a Staff Sergeant for the time being, I don’t see any reason not to grant that wish, foolish though it may be. Although ‘Them’s that do the best in combat see’s the most combat’, as it were.”

  “Thank you, First Sergeant, I appreciate that. The ‘thank you’ that is, and the remaining a Staff Sergeant part too, I guess, although I think you were kidding about that,” Kyle quirked an eyebrow.

  Mallory made the universal ‘You’ll never know, will you?’ face that all women are either born knowing or learn from that special book that only girls get to check out from the library.

  Kyle started to roll his eyes and then stopped himself. Best not to push it, he was on her good side, maybe he’d try to stay there for the rest of the day at least. “Thank you again, Top. I’ll absolutely pass it on.”

  “I know you will, Ramirez, after all, ‘there must be some reason you’re still a Staff Sergeant’.”

  Interlude Three

  The fires in Washington DC started earlier than elsewhere, but not by more than a few days. It seems to be endemic to the human situation that when things don’t go according to plan, people riot. Riots almost always lead to fires, either by accident or by design, and then things go from bad to worse when there’s nobody there to put the fires out. In June of 2012, there was nobody there to put the fires out.

  Mrs. O’Leary’s cow cannot be blamed for the fire that virtually destroyed Chicago, although it took substantially longer to burn the second time around. Over one hundred and twenty separate fires were started inside the ‘Loop’ alone, and within twelve hours they had grown and merged with other fires throughout the city that would burn for almost two weeks.

  Fort Worth, TX on the other hand, was gutted in less than eight hours by what was most likely a relatively small number of fires that started in the stockyards. The stockyards in Fort Worth were still actually being used as, well, stockyards for livestock. An untold number of cattle, horses, sheep, and goats were killed in addition to the almost literal burning to the ground of the entire city. Contrary to popular belief, a skyscraper will melt if the fire is hot enough.

  Denver, St. Louis, Salt Lake City, New York City, Cheyenne, Tulsa, Minneapolis, Nashville--they all suffered the same fate as almost every other major city in the U.S. About the only structures that survived the fires were those made of stone or bricks. Even then, brick buildings didn’t necessarily make it through.

  To a lesser extent, the outlying areas surrounding the major cities were also affected by fires, but while entire neighborhoods were lost in many cases they were also spared in far more cases as neighborhoods aren’t always right next to each other.

  While the loss of infrastructure was staggering, the loss of life was even more so. Where the initial death toll was near 1% of the population or approximately 3.2 million people, the number of deaths caused either directly or indirectly by the fires during the first two weeks approached 13% of the pre-event population of the U.S., just over 41 million people.

  On the heels of the destruction of what little infrastructure remained came the inability to get any type of clean water and the introduction of airborne illness. This was not a pandemic or a tailor made virus designed to wipe out the human race; it was simply the type of illness caused by things left to rot in the hot summer sun. As human beings we need food, water, and shelter to survive. As a civilized society, we’ve come to rely on a relatively clean environment and quick access to competent medical care as well. Without our anti-microbial soap, hand sanitizers, and antibiotics our bodies don’t know what to do with the world around us and another 6% of the pre-event population was lost over the next month.

  During that same month, more and more of those that remained began banding together for protection, to consolidate and conserve resources, to maintain a sense of community, and to attempt to restore some sort of order to the chaos. Anyone who had any sort of survival plan in place, regardless of how rudimentary, and had at least attempted to implement it early on, had made it out of the major population centers before things came completely unraveled. Those who waited longer found that they had waited until it was too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  At about 10:30 in the morning on June 22nd, two days after the Armory had been mothballed, Mallory’s portable
radio squawked to life. “Alpha Six this is Delta Two, over?”

  Mallory responded right away, “Delta Two this is Six, over.”

  “Six, your presence is requested at Comms for a discussion with a civilian group looking for a new place to call home. Over.”

  Wonderful. How many are there? What can they do? Do they bring anything with them or are they looking for a handout? Are they going to be a fit, or even made to fit? “On my way, be there in a couple, over.”

  “Roger, Two out.”

  Ever since the encounter with the group of semis at the weigh station, they’d been monitoring the citizen band, but this was the first time someone was sending out a specifically worded message for someone to pick up. A small group was broadcasting, looking for “the military group from Nashville”, wanting to join up and consolidate. It was the first time the base was being approached but she was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

  Mallory walked into the tent just as the third repetition of the message finished. “What have you got for me Sergeant Yates?”

  “Well, Top, like I said it sounds like we have a group that wants a place to call home. They aren’t broadcasting a huge amount of information yet, including size of their party, current location, etc. but that just makes sense with too many other folks potentially listening in.

  “We haven’t responded yet, as it’s not my call to make. We’ve discussed the eventuality but we don’t have a SOP for it yet and you said you wanted to be called directly if it happened.”

  She’d really hoped to have more time than this, but it never seemed to work out that way. “Ask me for anything but time,” Mallory said under her breath.