Solar Storm: Homeward Bound

by Vincent Keith

  Allan had come in during Chet’s description and was looking a bit green.

  “I… how…” Allan stumbled for words. Having seen to the horses and not knowing what else to do, he’d joined the conversation just as the subject had come up. Now he wished he’d stayed with the horses.

  “You heard right. Cannibals,” said Jack. “I suppose they might have come out of Pasco, but they could just as easily be locals. Given how fast everything fell apart they could have found themselves ravenous after only a couple of days and mad with desperation in a week. A few weeks and people get desperate and not too concerned about right and wrong, especially if it’s not something they’d ever thought about before. It’s harder to go down that path if you’ve thought about it beforehand. You’ve already formed an internal resistance to the idea, but how many people ever consider cannibalism?”

  “How the heck can anyone even consider it!” Allan looked shocked.

  “There are a few cases in recent history where people used it to survive in the face of inevitable starvation. There was the rugby team whose plane crashed in the Andes Mountains. They were eating the recently dead, and they were stuck on a mountain for a couple of months. They weren’t hunting people for food. There are plenty of individuals who did it for no valid reason whatsoever. The serial killer Jeffery Dahmer was one. There was a bizarre case of some German guy who advertised for a victim and got one. It was horrifying on so many levels I stopped reading before I got all the details.” A visible shiver ran through Jack’s shoulders.

  "One of the worst cases I know of was a direct result of Communist Russia imposing collectivism on the Ukraine. In the early 1930s, the Communist Party took farms away from the small landowners. People who worked their own farms and hired maybe one or two people, hardly what you'd call capitalists. They or their parents were likely serfs only a few decades earlier. The net effect was the destruction of their ability to grow food. I've seen estimates that between six and as many as twelve million died from starvation. The cannibalism got so bad that the Soviets printed posters declaring that: 'To eat your own children is a barbarian act.' Before it was over, the Soviets charged or convicted over twenty-five hundred people with cannibalism."

  “But… They never told us about that in school,” said Allan.

  Jack's mouth twitched as he controlled the urge to laugh.

  “Yeah, well that’s not a surprise Allan.”

  “But—Why?”

  “I’ll explain it to you when we have some time to spare. Anyway, I spent quite a bit of time thinking through the conditions that might lead me down that path. I’ve got to say, the plane crash in the mountains that the rugby team went through is about the only one I considered as survivable. You have to be willing to accept the psychological trauma if you want to come out the other side with your humanity intact, if that’s even possible. But hunting people as food? No, they’re not human anymore, not really.”

  Allan looked ill from just hearing about it. Jack worried about how he’d react if he saw the result. Hell, I’m worried about how I’ll react.

  "We're going to track them down and take them out." Miguel's hard look and ominous tone left no doubt in Jack's mind he'd do it on his own if he had to. The statement got Geoff's attention.

  Jack sighed, “Yes, we will. Chris, are any of the guys here actual combat vets? I don’t think we want to take anyone into this who’s never had to shoot someone, and even then, only if they’re volunteering.”

  “I don’t know Jack,” said Miguel, “we may need more guns than we’ll get that way.”

  “You’ll have them anyway,” said Chris. He nodded toward Geoff and Chet. “I wouldn’t try to stop them even if I could. Hell if we had more than two rifles in camp…”

  “Crap. Okay. What do you think Sergeant, you and Doug scout them out, and then we organize a strike? Better than a bunch of us stumbling around hoping to get lucky.”

  “Assuming we find them, and if we can’t just do it on our own. It’ll depend on several factors: Numbers, armament, terrain, what kind of security they have, and whether or not they have hostages.” His eyes flicked from Jack to Geoff and back.

  Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line. If they haven’t killed the girls yet is what he means. He nodded. “They may be animals, but they come from dangerous stock.”

  Miguel nodded in return.

  “Okay, Lexi will monitor the radio, Chris and I will organize volunteers. We need to leave a few armed folks around camp in case it’s not just one group. I can’t see them splitting up, but leaving the people here unguarded is a bad idea.”

  “Set up a guard, six people at least. Two at the end of the bridge. Two by the south end of the camp, and two in the middle. Rotate them around, give them a chance to warm up here by the fire. ” said Miguel.

  “We’ve got six of the Garands, which I sighted in myself. We can leave Lexi and Rachael here with their Mark Sixteens. Add Allan, Scott and maybe two more. Chris?”

  “I’m too damn old to be trudging around the countryside, I’d just slow you down, but if they come here, well, I can still shoot straight enough. David will probably want to go with you. He’s got an AR-15. Sameer?”

  Sameer, who had been listening quietly from the corner stood up and nodded. “I have some experience with a rifle. I’d like to go with you. Perhaps Mr. Lee?”

  Chris nodded. “I’m sure he’ll help.”

  "I think Allan should stick close to the horses, so that'll be at least six. Call me old-fashioned, but I'd rather have Lexi and Rachael someplace other than the perimeter, so see if you can find two more.”

  Jack considered Lexi for a moment and hoped being in charge of communications between the searchers and the camp would be enough to keep her safe.

  Sergeant…you two be careful, we need you back in one piece.”

  “Hooah!”

  “Geoff, do you know how to use a rifle?”

  For the first time since Jack had met him Geoff’s expression shifted, just for a second, to one of terror rather than anger.

  “Not really. Are we going now?”

  “Very soon.”

  “Chet how about you? Do you know how to shoot?”

  Chet took a few steadying breaths and nodded. "Yeah, since I was a kid."

  "Okay. Check on your wives. I'll get the rifles, and we'll get a few more volunteers. We'll have to spend a bit of time training you on the Garands. They're excellent weapons, but they can be a pain in the butt to reload."

  AS MISSIONS WENT, this one looked to suck in more ways than Miguel Hernandez cared to consider. He had one idea that, if it worked, would make all the difference in the world. Miguel found Lexi playing with a couple of toddlers.

  “Hey Lexi, have you seen Doug?” asked Miguel.

  “He’s in the bathroom, what’s up?”

  “I need to see if our air support is still in range, I’ve got a mission for them.”

  “Really? Would that be tracking down a camp of Cannibals?”

  “What the — How did you find out about that?”

  Lexi laughed, “Seriously Sergeant? It’s a small place. There are no secrets around here.”

  Miguel looked at the young woman with a frown. Every time he turned around she surprised the crap out of him. He wondered if it was time to think of her as a bright, energetic, young wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant, rather than the high school cheerleader she resembled. Lord, she sure doesn’t act like any high school girl I’ve known.

  “Think of it as operational security, need to know, and very few people need to know so keep it to yourself, Doug, me or your Dad.”

  Lexi's head spun around at that last. She was about to correct him but stopped. She wasn't offended, she was just surprised by the idea. She’d been happy when Jack and her mom had finally admitted they liked each other. Dad? A crease formed between her brows as she examined the thought. She'd been close to her Dad since she was a little girl. Shortly after he came back from his first trip to Afghanis
tan, he drifted away from the family, spending more and more time with his army buddies. Even then he'd make time for her. She’d just turned eleven when he went back to Afghanistan and never came home.

  “Lexi?”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. I’ll keep it quiet, but everyone already knows.”

  Miguel nodded and headed off to find Doug. If the drone was close enough and they could get through on the radio, then he was sure they'd find the monsters.

  DOUG FOUND Jack and Miguel at the main table talking with Mr. Epps, and the fathers of the missing kids. Geoff was pacing, impatient to get moving, even though he had no idea where to look. At least they’re not fiddling with those rifles, he thought.

  Chet was staring at the map, willing it to give up the secret of where his child was. He cursed himself for thinking they were ever safe, for letting Lori out of his sight, for failing to find her.

  “Sergeant, I think we’ve got ‘em.”

  “What do we know?”

  "I got through to the Colonel. He had a drone flying over the area around the Dam. The pilot redirected to our area, and the drone spotted an active camp about two miles southeast of here. Too much snow for a visual, but thermal detected five actives in the open, two up on the highway, one out on the trestle, and two moving around at the edge of the overpass. There are more under the overpass, but I guess they're grouped too close together. It could be seven signatures, but a couple of them are broad heat signatures. We're estimating a minimum of ten potential hostiles, and a maximum of fourteen."

  Hoffman pulled out a map and spread it on the table, then checked his notepad. He tapped a finger on their current position then found the grid reference the air reconnaissance team had given him. “Okay, they’re right about here. We’re here at this bridge.” He tapped a point on the map then dragged his finger to where the trestle crossed the Snake not quite two miles to the southeast.

  “No other camps around?” asked Miguel.

  "Nothing close. The drone detected smoke and a lot of heat about nine miles west," Hoffman paused while he consulted his notebook again then examined the map.

  "Here. Okay, that makes sense, that's where Chet and Geoff were last night. So some of the houses are still smoldering. The only other sign of activity is north about seven miles. There are some campers and a trailer at the Palouse Falls State Park. They've counted four individuals, but there could be more. The flyboys are keeping an eye on both sites and will update us on target numbers if they change."

  Geoff kicked a chair half way across the room. He looked like he was about to start yelling. His fists clenched as if he were looking for someone to punch. After a few seconds, Geoff turned around, picked up his chair, and sat down. The outburst had Jack worried about the advisability of bringing the fathers along when they went looking.

  “So, that might be our target,” Sergeant Hernandez said making eye contact with each person around the table. “That means we do our scouting in person. We will not go in shooting only to find out it’s just a bunch of survivors. Are we clear?”

  “Hooah! Sergeant. The bird has another thirty-three hours of flight time before they have to head back to McChord. The Colonel said we'd have a new bird on station before they RTB. So, for now, we've got twenty-four seven coverage, EO-FLIR."

  Jack juggled acronyms in his head for a second. RTB must be return to base, but what the hell is EO-FLIR?

  “Hey Doug, what’s EO-FLIR mean?”

  "Electro-Optical Forward Looking Infra-Red. It’s a multi-mode thermal imaging camera.”

  “You guys get the coolest toys.”

  Doug chuckled.

  “So, the question is, do we go armed for bear, then have you guys do the actual scouting or do you want us to wait for you?” asked Jack.

  "No! We're going too. You can't leave us here," said Geoff.

  Miguel looked at the man. Part of him wanted to agree, another part wanted to tie him to a chair just to keep him from getting himself killed.

  “You can be there when we know for sure. If we all go now and it’s not them, then you might be too exhausted to help when we find them. Stay put and rest while you can.”

  “Rest! How the hell can I rest? That's my little girl out there!"

  “We know. The goal is to get the girls back as quickly as possible. Running off without a plan will not make that happen,” said the Sergeant.

  Hernandez looked at the map for a minute while he gathered his thoughts. “I think Doug and I will scout it out, as long as you guys are ready to move. It’s only a two-mile walk. We’ll go down the north side of the river, that should let us get a good look under that overpass.”

  Jack studied the map. The Snake River flowed in a westerly direction until it eventually fed into the Columbia River. State Route 261 paralleled the river from the east for some three and a half miles, heading northwest. When it reached the campground, the highway turned north and crossed the bridge. Directly to the east of the bridge, the Palouse River fed into the Snake from the north. There was no bridge across the Palouse River, at least within walking distance.

  The trestle that Doug had indicated crossed the river from the north, passed under SR-261, and then turned northwest to follow the highway. The topographical details on Brian's map showed a high plateau to the south, above the point where the tracks turned. They would likely have to approach the camp from the south side of the highway, following the tracks.

  “How are you going to get to the north side? There’s no bridge until you get right on top of the camp?”

  “Boat. There’s a canoe in the marina we can take across,” said Corporal Doug Hoffman.

  “Against the current?”

  “Shouldn’t be too bad. It’s damn near a lake in this area. Probably a dam downstream somewhere. We’ll carry it up the road a bit and cut almost straight across.”

  “Okay. How long do you think?”

  "The Sun's setting now. If it's them, we'll know in a couple of hours. If I had all my guys, we'd go as soon as we verified the target. It'll be too dark without NVG, and you guys wouldn't know what you were shooting. We'll hit them right before sunrise. We need enough light to allow target identification. The last thing we need is for someone to shoot the kids by accident."

  The Sergeant gave a hard look at the two fathers. "You two, keep your shit together. I know you're in a hurry. I get that, but we're not sure these are the right people. I can only imagine what you might be going through. I don't have kids, so I'm probably wrong by a wide margin. But it doesn't matter. If you get reckless, you may very well get those kids killed. The monsters who took them are going to end up dead no matter what else happens. Let's try to do it right."

  The two men nodded. Chet, the taller of the two looked terrified. Geoff’s expression was one of anger, but underneath that thin veil was a terrified father. As the meeting broke up, Jack pulled Geoff aside. Jack wasn't too worried about Chet, but the way Geoff was acting, he might just run off on his own.

  “Geoff, are you going to be able to hold it together? I can see you’re so pissed off right now you’re ready to kill anyone and everyone.”

  “What the fuck do you know about it!”

  “What I know is this: if you look like you’re going to compromise this mission, I will shoot you myself. Assuming the Sergeant doesn’t shoot you first. Get a goddamn grip and think about getting your kid back. You can worry about revenge later. Think about that terrified little girl and what you can do to help her, not what you can do to punish everyone else.”

  The look in Jack's eyes left little doubt he was serious, deadly serious. The shock of the sudden realization that Jack really would shoot him broke through Geoff's rage. The shell of anger covering the fear and desperation cracked, and the grief flooded through. Geoff grabbed his head and bellowed as he dropped to his knees. "Oh God, Katie, Katie. Please God, please let her be okay."

  Jack felt like a first-class bastard for pushing him, but he’d seen his share of stupidity driven by anger.
This would be better, Geoff would either come to grips with it, or he’d stay in camp. Either way, it would be one less problem to deal with—he hoped.

  Maybe Chris would know who to send in to help put the pieces back together. Deep down, Jack hoped the man would stay in camp, despite the damage it would do to his confidence. Still, it might be better than what he would experience if he came along. He sighed. Not my decision to make.

  JACK WAS CLEANING his rifle when Chris found him.

  “What the hell did you say to him?”

  "Say to who?"

  "Geoff."

  “The truth, which is the last thing most people want to hear.” Jack sighed and set aside the cleaning tools. “I told Geoff, if his rage threatened to compromise the mission, I'd shoot him.”

  "Well, it seems to have worked, that's the first sign of anything except hate we've seen out of him in nearly two days. I know he was using the anger to cover his fear, but it didn't make it any easier for us to help him."

  “Chris, I was serious. The way he was behaving, it would have been a disaster. I’m sorry I dumped him in your lap, but this whole thing has me a little freaked out, and I need to keep myself together. I’ve got no time to deal with other people’s crap right now.”

  Chris shrugged, “Well, we all deal with stress in our own way. Apparently, you become a cold-hearted bastard.” He was smiling, which took away the sting.

  Jack returned the smile, “That’s a relatively recent trend. I’ve been shot, shot at, and killed four—no, five men in the last two months. It’s lowered my tolerance for people adding to my stress level.”

  Chris chuckled, “Nothing wrong with being a cold-hearted bastard when you need to be. I doubt Lexi and her mom would love you so much if you were that way all the time.”

  Jack blushed, “They might be a little biased, due to past circumstances.”

  “Possibly, possibly. Anyway, I think Geoff is going to be okay. He’s apologized to most of the folks whose heads he nearly chewed off, and he’s coming around.”