Shock Wave

by Keith Taylor

  Jack raised his eyebrows. “Anti-rejection meds? You had a transplant?”

  “Yeah, my liver, three years ago,” she replied, surprised. “What are you, a doctor or something?”

  Jack nodded. “Used to be, yeah. How are you set for meds?”

  “Not too bad,” Cathy shrugged. “I’ve got enough Cyclo to last a couple of months, but I’m running a little short of the penicillamine. Maybe two weeks before I hit trouble, if I can't find any more. Why?”

  “Nothing. It’s just… well, that’s why they didn’t take you. You’d be a burden.”

  As soon as he said it he wanted to swallow the words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound so blunt. I just mean those are pretty specialized meds you’re using. They won’t have them wherever they’re evacuating people. I’m guessing the other folks who got left behind all needed regular medication too, right?”

  Cathy nodded. “I guess so. I know Mr. Reeves has diabetes, and Sally Becker has some kind of blood pressure thing. They probably all needed something.”

  “And where are they now?”

  She shrugged and pointed vaguely towards the east. “Mr. Reeves has an old Winnebago. He said if the government wouldn’t let him go along he'd just head inland and find someplace to wait it out until he can come home. Everyone went with him.”

  “How come you didn’t join them?” Jack asked. “Seems like that would have been the safest option.”

  Cathy chuckled and shook her head. “If you ever met Mr. Reeves you wouldn’t ask that question. If I had to spend a week in his Winnebago playing I Spy and fighting off his offers of back rubs I think I’d eat a bullet.” She reached out and took the bottle of root beer from Jack, taking a swig before handing it back. “I’m OK. I figured… well, this is Pine Bluff. Nobody’s nuking Pine Bluff, right? As long as the power stays on I figure it’s safe to stay.”

  Jack felt his heart pick up speed at the mention of the power. He got the feeling that a moment he’d been dreading was about to arrive.

  “Is your TV still working?” he asked. “Or the radio? Do you know what’s going on out there? Do they know who attacked us?”

  Cathy shook her head. “We never get a good signal out here so I don’t bother with the radio, but the TV stopped broadcasting maybe four or five hours ago. The set still works just fine, but maybe a transmitter got knocked out or something because all I can pick up is static.”

  Right away Jack knew what had happened. “It was the EMP.” He saw Cathy’s confused expression. “An electromagnetic pulse,” he explained. “There was a nuclear blast maybe sixty miles north of here just before nightfall. It knocked out the power for miles. This is the first place we’ve seen where the lights are still on, but I’ve heard that an EMP can screw up the atmosphere for hours. It could be blocking the satellite downlink for the TV.”

  Cathy looked alarmed. “Sixty miles from here? You’re kidding! What about fallout? Are we gonna get sick?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jack assured her. “It was a high altitude blast. I don’t know much about this kind of thing, but I know that you only get fallout from explosions at ground level. It’s all the dirt that gets thrown up in the atmosphere. You don’t get any of that when the blast is in the upper atmosphere. Not much radiation at all. All it really does is screw up the power.”

  Garside politely cleared his throat to attract Cathy’s attention. “Before the TV stopped working, miss, what did you hear? Was there any news about Los Angeles?”

  “And what about San Francisco?” Jack added. “And Modesto?”

  Cathy pulled Boomer close, hugging her like a comfort blanket. She seemed reluctant to speak. “Why?” she eventually asked. “Do you know people there?”

  Jack nodded. “Doug’s wife is in LA, and I’m heading down to meet my wife and daughter in Modesto.”

  Cathy didn’t speak for a long time, but Jack already knew what was coming. His heart hardened as he saw Cathy’s eyes glisten with tears, and her cheeks flushed red.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, each softly spoken word hitting Jack like a fist. “They’re gone.”

  Jack slumped forward, his head falling into his hands as the news hit him. He felt like she'd just torn the soul from his body.

  He’d expected San Francisco to be hit. It was a major city and an obvious target, and he’d been prepared for the news as much as anyone could be, but deep down he’d believed that Modesto would be a safe haven. It was a city of barely two hundred thousand, an anonymous inland sprawl few outside California ever thought about. It didn’t seem to have any strategic value. It only just scraped into the top twenty largest cities in the state. Why would anyone bother to attack it? It just didn’t make any sense.

  Running on numb autopilot he found himself pulling his phone from his pocket. He brought up his messages and blankly stared at the words on the screen. The last words his wife would ever have for him.

  Where are you? Pls tell me you left Seattle. News says it could be hit by nuke. Me+Em+Doc headed to Anne’s place. Pls call when you can.

  Love you.

  He tried to stop himself from thinking about it, but he couldn’t stop the tears from pricking at his eyes as he wondered where they’d been when they died. Had they been caught in San Francisco, fighting through the crowds as they tried to evacuate? Had they made it to Anne’s farm? Did they think they were safe when the flash arrived on the horizon? Had it hurt? Had Emily been scared? Had she been with her mom when the time came?

  Jack didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his cheeks until Cathy put her arm over his shoulder, pulling him in for a hug while Boomer sat between them.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “For both of you. But look, you shouldn’t give up. Doug, I heard there was a massive effort to evacuate LA. It was going on for hours before it was hit. They must have gotten most of the people out. And Jack, the same goes for San Francisco. And the news said that the one that hit Fresno landed near the airport. That’s about five miles from downtown. I’m sure plenty of people survived.”

  Jack was only half listening, wallowing in grief, but her words found their way through. “Wait, did you say Fresno?”

  “Yeah. Apparently it went off course and overshot the city. Maybe there was—”

  “I didn’t ask about Fresno,” Jack interrupted, his heart suddenly racing. “I asked about Modesto.”

  Cathy took a sharp breath and covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I must have misheard you!” She frowned, trying to remember the news reports. “I… I’m not certain, but I don’t remember hearing anything about Modesto. They definitely got San Francisco and Sacramento, then Fresno and Bakersfield were a few minutes later. It all happened so quickly, and the news was so crazy, it was just… Everyone was yelling. Nobody knew what was going on, but Modesto? I just don’t remember hearing anyone mention it.”

  Jack looked down at his phone once more, staring at the final words of the message.

  Love you

  “They’re alive,” he said, finally. He didn’t know how he knew, but he could just feel it in his bones. Karen was a survivor. She was smart and tough, tougher than Jack could ever be. If there was even the slightest chance to escape he knew she’d have grabbed hold of it with both hands.

  “They’re alive, and I’m going to find them.” He turned to Garside, slouched against the wall, his head in his hands. “That goes for your wife too, Doug. You’re going to find Brenda. Now’s not the time to give up hope. We’re going south.”

  He pushed himself from the curb, his energy suddenly renewed, and as he began to walk back to the car he felt Cathy’s hand grab his sleeve.

  “Hey, I don’t want to sit this out up here on my own. Do you think I can come with?”

  Jack reached down and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “The more the merrier,” he said, sealing it with a shake.

  He turned to Garside. “Doug? Get in the car. Let’s go find our families.”

  Cat
hy looked back down the street at the Civic. “You’re driving that? No, no, no, if we're heading into this mess we’re not taking a little Japanese toy car.”

  Garside scowled. “That’s my rental, of course we’re taking it. I don’t want to lose my deposit.”

  Cathy shook her head. “It’s no good. And besides, I think we’re way past worrying about money. We’ll take my truck.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulled out a keychain and tossed it in the air, the streetlights catching the Ford logo before she caught it. She flashed Garside a grin.

  “Welcome to America, Doug.”

  ΅

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A THOUSAND LITTLE STEPS

  KAREN HAD NO more tears to spare.

  No more breath to spare, either. She leaned against the closest car, struggling to stay on her feet as the world swam around her. Her legs trembled with the strain after just a few dozens steps, and she dreaded to think how she’d feel by the time they finally reached the mainland two miles to the east. The bridge seemed to stretch out ahead of her for an eternity, an endless traffic-cluttered ribbon.

  It wasn’t the radiation sickness that was holding her back – at least she didn’t think it was. It was just exhaustion and hunger, a gaping hole in her stomach that hadn’t been filled in… what, a day and a half?

  Damn, she thought, counting off the hours since she’d last taken a bite. It’s no wonder I’m shaky. More than thirty hours had passed since her last meal, and even that had been nothing heavier than a sandwich and a couple of dry crackers, a hurried snack while she did the laundry.

  “How are you feeling?” Ramos stopped and called back, his voice full of concern. He could see just how weak she was. “Do you need to take a break?”

  Karen shook her head and waved him on. She knew Ramos was only being polite. They couldn’t afford to rest here in the fallout zone, even twelve hours after the attack. It would still kill them if they gave it the chance.

  “Go on ahead,” she said, pushing herself away from the car and forcing herself onward. “I’ll catch up. Just get Emily out of here.”

  Ramos nodded uncertainly, watching her take a few shaky steps forward, but eventually he moved on, powering ahead with a strength Karen only wished she could muster.

  Ramos knew Emily was the priority. He’d wrapped her as tightly as he could in the high visibility jacket, trying to seal her off in a self contained bubble protected from the fallout, but he knew it was far from perfect. Even if her cocoon was completely airtight she’d still be absorbing radiation out here. She’d already received a dose higher than her small body could shake off, and every moment out on this bridge would only push her closer to the edge.

  They walked on, Karen falling back two steps for every ten Ramos took, and by the time they crossed the halfway point of the bridge she was already a hundred yards behind him and wheezing for air. Ramos turned and watched her struggle onward, but still he didn’t stop and wait. He knew that if he turned back to help her she’d use her last breath to curse him.

  Karen was feeling the cold now. The clammy air cut through her own jacket, but unlike Emily she wasn’t wrapped up tight, protected from the elements. There had been no spare trousers left in the lockers. The one pair she’d found had already been contaminated during her walk to shut down the fans, so the knee length jacket was all she had to keep out the chill. She limped along with her bare legs ending in a pair of men’s boots even larger than the last pair she’d worn. It seemed the people who worked in the tunnel all had clown feet.

  The cold didn’t really bother her, though. If anything it invigorated her, and drove her on. The cold bite told her that she was still alive, and her stinging skin reminded her that at the end of this, somewhere God knows how far along the road, there would be a hot bath waiting for her. She could lay back and let the warmth envelop her, and when it finally drained away it would take with it every last trace of the ash, dust and dirt that tainted her skin. It was concern for her daughter that was keeping her on her feet, but she couldn’t deny that the wish for a bath was helping her pace.

  She fought her aching legs and increased her speed, fixing her eyes on the mainland far ahead. There were still lights on out there. It seemed unbelievable, but just a few miles east of a nuclear blast the power was somehow still running. The streetlights still burned. Houses were intact, warm and cozy, just as they had been yesterday, and the shore was lit up like a string of Christmas lights. Oakland had never looked so beautiful.

  For twenty minutes Karen forced herself to clear her mind. She refused to think of anything but putting one foot in front of the other, slow and steady, counting her shuffling, halting steps until she finally reached one thousand, and then she stopped, took a short break to rest her throbbing feet, and began counting once again.

  She’d reached one thousand three times over by the time the bridge reached the mainland, and she’d counted out another seven hundred when she finally found Ramos waiting for her amid a mass of vehicles packed closely together, blocking the road. Emily had vomited down his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to care.

  “Looks like this is why the bridge got backed up,” he said. At the head of the tangled mass a school bus was stopped side on, straddling three lanes with one of its tires blown out. The road itself was six lanes wide, but the other three lanes were blocked by two dozen cars that had tried all at the same time to squeeze through a gap only large enough for three, four at a push. When the bus stopped it had probably only taken a few minutes for the rest of the road to jam up.

  “So stupid,” Ramos sighed, resting against the side of the bus. “Why didn’t they just push this thing out of the way? They could have cleared the road in a couple of minutes.”

  Karen shrugged. “Panic, I guess. People don’t think clearly when they’re scared.” She looked back at the bridge, at the line of cars running all the way back to the island. “It only takes one driver to lose his cool and abandon his car, and then…” she swept her hand along the length of the bridge. “There must have been thousands of people stuck out here when the fallout started.”

  She pointed at a silver Prius that had wedged an old Buick up against the central divider, blocking the highway down to a single lane. “I wonder how many people this jackass killed because he couldn’t drive in a straight line.”

  The road ahead of the Prius was clear. Karen moved to the driver’s side of the car and saw that the bodywork had become caught up in the Buick’s wheel arch, but a firm kick was enough to free it. The driver could have done that in just a few seconds. Hell, he could have just thrown the car into reverse and pulled himself loose, but instead it looked like he’d panicked and run. His mistake had blocked two of the three remaining lanes, and sentenced everyone behind him to death.

  Karen sighed and peered in through the window. “Oh well, it’s ours now. The keys are still in the ignition.” A thought occurred to her as she reached out to grab the door handle. “Wait, is this safe? I mean, are the cars radioactive?”

  Ramos walked to the back and pulled open the door, lowering Emily onto the back seat with a grunt of effort. “Radioactive? Well, yeah. Everything out here is radioactive, but we’ve reached the point where we don’t have the luxury of avoiding it. That ship sailed a while back. Now we’re just making choices that limit our exposure as much as possible. It could be a hundred miles to the safe zone, and if we try to walk it we’ll have gills by the time we get there.” He let out a chuckle, but it was clear he was forcing it. They both knew the truth. If they tried to walk all three of them would be dead by sunrise.

  Karen pulled her sleeve over her hand to pull the handle, shivering with disgust as she noticed the dust falling from the door. “I just feel… urgh, I don’t want to touch anything.”

  “That’s good,” Ramos reassured her. “It means you’re thinking straight. You won’t make any dumb mistakes. But our best chance of survival is just to get through this as quickly as possible, so don’t worry too m
uch about— hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Karen shot him a confused look. “What do you mean? Nothing. I’m getting in the car.”

  “Not in the driver’s seat, you’re not.” Ramos gestured to the rear door. “I know you like to be behind the wheel, but you’re not driving in your condition.”

  “My condition? Doc, I feel OK, seriously. I’ll be fine.”

  Ramos took her by the shoulder and gently but firmly guided her to the back of the car. “You’re not fine, you just think you’re fine. Radiation sickness can be unpredictable. You can feel on top of the world one minute and coughing up blood the next, and I’d just as soon not be doing eighty down the highway when your body decides it’s time to pass out.”

  Karen protested. “Do you even know how to drive?”

  “Of course. Just because I don’t own a car doesn’t mean I never learned. I was driving while you still had pink tassels hanging from your bike. Now get in and take care of your daughter. No arguments.”

  Karen finally relented, lowering herself on aching legs to the rear seat beside Emily. She didn’t even know why she’d tried to resist. She wanted to be in the back with her daughter. She didn’t want to spend a second away from her while she was sick. And besides, she was about ten miles beyond exhausted. Her legs throbbed with the strain of walking the bridge. What she needed more than anything was a meal and a sleep. She liked to be in control, but she couldn’t deny she was happy to see Ramos climb into the driver’s seat.

  She looked down to find that Emily was sleeping. Unconscious, in any case, but she didn’t seem to be in much discomfort. Her face was pale and there was a little vomit crusted in her hair, but she didn’t seem to be suffering. Karen gently lifted her daughter’s head from the seat and slid beneath her, resting the little girl in her lap. Emily shifted in her sleep and let out a mutter.

  “You ready to go?” Ramos whispered, trying not to wake Emily, and when Karen gave a nod he switched the air to recirculate and slapped closed the air vents, then turned the key.