Deep Freeze: Protocol One, Book 2 (Protocol One Saga)

by Jacqueline Druga

  Did the car thieves go East past the stadium or West out of the city?

  My chest was heavy with frustration and sadness. What the hell happened to Tony?

  I lowered the scarf and inhaled to cry out. The cold wind rendered me breathless.

  When we left the bunker, Peter said it was thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit. Granted the temperature had dropped, yet it was still warm compared to what it was weeks earlier.

  I took a breath through the scarf and yelled out my loudest, “Tony!”

  The snow offered so much insulation there wasn’t even an echo. My voice was just absorbed with a deadened sound.

  “Tony!”

  I need to find tracks, something to follow, and get direction.

  The snow to my right was smooth, untouched, unlike that to my left. Even though there were no defined footprints any longer, the snow was disrupted, it lacked that untainted look.

  Taking a gamble, I opted for left and headed east toward the stadium.

  For a block, it was free and clear of cars and trucks, mainly because most of my journey was across what I believed was a parking lot, just before the Stadium, three foot concrete barricades were set up to form a wall. A military truck remained. No one was in it. Its canvas covering was frozen. Both driver and passenger doors were open. It looked like a rush to escape.

  My first thought was, the underground shelter. But surely, someone would have heard me call out.

  I peered to the sky, wiping away each flake that fell to my face, looking for smoke, something that signified life.

  There were no tracks whatsoever around the barricade or truck, mine would be the first. The truck struck me as odd. It lacked that frozen food look, frosted over, windows cracked by sudden change temperature. Had it arrived not long before?

  By all accounts, everything should have been iced over. I examined the truck, it was empty inside the cab and the back was bare as well. Not a paper, piece of lint, nothing. If it had anything, any supplies, they were gone. Was the stadium the shelter or was it elsewhere?

  Pulling back my coat sleeve, I cleared the frost from my watch. It was nearly two PM. We had left the bunker four hours earlier. Before continuing on, I pulled out Gwen’s phone, hoping it was still powered. I needed a time gauge.

  It was working. The power indicator blinked. It would be dead before I made it another block. My last message was sent sixteen minutes earlier. No new messages had come from Mystery D.

  Sixteen minutes. Which meant it was pushing a half an hour since Tony dropped the bags and took off running. A half an hour in wasn’t an exuberant amount of time for someone to be gone. But in the scheme of things, in a dead frozen wasteland, it was an eternity.

  At the Bunker – Peter

  I likened it to being God. Not that I had a God Complex, really I didn’t. If I were to compare myself to a religious figure, more than likely it would the Apostle Peter. The stand up guy, right there, seeing things, knowing things, spreading the word. Yet, having the ability to plead the fifth when backed against the wall. Although pleading the fifth isn’t an endearing quality at times. It certainly wasn’t for Saint Peter.

  My daily purpose in the bunker made me feel important as I sat in the safe room, half the day watching security cameras, monitoring the radios. While I was primarily the scientist, the guy with the “know how”, the scientific knowledge is only needed so much buried a hundred feet below the surface, sealed away in the wake of a global catastrophe. Sure, I get asked questions, but not enough to keep me busy. My talents were better spent in conjunction with the safe room duties.

  I liked it. Playing God. I am watching you. Let’s face it, I am a nosey person. Always was and always would be. Eyes on it all, I could zoom in anywhere, see it happen, do my best, and sometimes awful lip reading of what was being said. All while indulging in my guilty pleasure of sipping on a juice box. The straw perched to the side of my mouth so I could bite on it. Cherry was my favorite. I don’t think God would sip a juice box, He might. They’re pretty good.

  The afternoon shift was mine. Tom, the security guy and pretty much the only other person besides me and Anna to work the safe room, was out on a survival run. He left with Skyler, an Army sergeant who had gone AWOL to be with his “partner” for the end of the world. His partner, Craig was our resident medical man.

  In fact, it was a busy day. Two survival runs went out. I was needed to keep radio watch. Then again, I probably would have taken watch anyhow, just to stay occupied. Admittedly though, since Gwen showed up things were more interesting.

  For some reason she seemed to behave as if the bunker was her own private resort and refused to see it otherwise. She made the mistake the first day of, “ordering her dinner brought to her room.” She was none too happy when it didn’t arrive. She went directly to Nelly who does most of the cooking.

  Nelly is a trip, seventy-five years old, sassy and an excellent marksman. I swear she probably chewed tobacco in her youth. Right now she just rations that abundance of Pall Malls she brought.

  Gwen gave her hell and Nelly blasted right back. I didn’t hear what was said, I only watched and read lips. I’m pretty certain Gwen didn’t ask Nelly to, “Wash her breasts in bleach” but it looked like she said it and Tom and I got a good laugh.

  In fact, I was watching Gwen run frantically from floor to floor using each shower for the three minute limit before going to the next. With the ten minute reset in place, for Gwen to get that hour shower, she would be at it all day. I didn’t get it. But it kept her out of Nelly’s hair and mine.

  There weren’t many people I didn’t like, Gwen was one of them. However I put on a good front, because she was up to something, I just knew it.

  The last of my juice box sputtered in the straw when the radio hissed with static.

  The all too familiar sound. I didn’t think much, because I believed it was the duo of Tom and Skyler or Tony and Anna.

  Until they called out.

  “This is Damnation Alley to Protocol One, do you read? Damnation Alley to Protocol One, do you read? Over.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I smiled and spoke out loud. “The big guns are calling.”

  Before responding I grabbed an in house radio and called out, “Hey Senator. DA is radioing. Over.”

  “Thank you. On my way. Out,” Gil replied.

  The big guy, the top honcho. Granted Gil paid for the bunker all in the name of his undying, unrequited love for his ex-wife Anna, he still wasn’t here the whole time. Anna ran things, and oddly, she just handed the reins over to Gil.

  I returned to the radio and took the call from Damnation Alley. It was the ‘big’ bunker. The President was there. Gwen came from there. Probably was a rest for her.

  Pampered in the Apocalypse

  “This is Protocol One, I read you. Over.”

  “Protocol One we received a distress call from a search and rescue team claiming to be from your camp. The distress call stated they were stranded in Pittsburgh. Taking shelter in a casino. Over.”

  “Why would they contact you? Seems rather odd. Over.”

  “Dude, really?” It was Mulligan, my favorite radio guy. I didn’t recognize his voice at first because not only was he being official he had been battling bronchitis for some time. “Seriously? Do you have people out there or not?”

  “We do. Over.”

  “A massive storm has rolled in. It may impede rescue attempts. Over.”

  The massive storm. I cringed. I saw it, but it lingered north. I was getting quite good at predicting the weather. Unfortunately, I predicted the storm would keep north and it shifted. What the hell?

  “Did they give any other information?” I asked.

  “Negative. Communication lost now. Distress call came in thirteen hundred-forty. Over.”

  “And they called you. Just seems weird, that they’d radio Texas when we’re closer.”

  “I’m out. Out.”

  Was Mulligan having a bad day? They got a distress call from Pitt
sburgh. I didn’t worry much, because at first I was confused and believed it was Tom and Skyler stranded. Then it dawned on me the second the door to the safe room opened that it was Anna out there.

  “What’s going on?” Gil asked as he walked in. “They still on the radio?’

  “No.” I shook my head and stood. “Gil, we have problems. DA received a distress call from Pittsburgh. Anna and Tony reached out to them for some reason. They are stranded and holding up at a casino.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Gil spun and slammed his hand into the door way. “Anna is out there, stranded? I knew it. I knew she shouldn’t have gone. What the hell happened? Something had to happen. Tony would not just get stuck.”

  “That storm I said would miss us … didn’t. It’s huge and showing no signs of stopping. That probably is it.”

  He turned and headed back out the door.

  “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “Out to get them.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? The storm is bad. More than likely that is why they’re stuck. We can’t help them if we get stuck out there as well. Another day or two. Tony is there. They’ll be fine.”

  Gil groaned. “Fine. Get on the radio, try to reach them. I’m gonna work on something. Some way, I’ll get to them.”

  He walked out with determination and I turned my chair back to the panel as I whistled. “Oh, sure, you’ll go get them. Tony will just love that.” With an exhale, I grabbed the radio.

  FIVE – Wisdom and Calm

  Anna

  Controlled by emotions and driven by a little fear, I didn’t think things through clearly. That realization came when my nose felt sunburned and my fingers slightly numb. With wind blasting negative temperatures at me, I wasn’t going to make it very long before I suffered the effects of being ill prepared outside in the elements.

  I figured I had roughly three hours of daylight left and weighted my options. I could continue on and maybe make it another hour or I could head back the two blocks, get to our bags and grab the Arctic Armor. I weighed my choices. While going back and redressing would eat up time, it still allotted me more search time out in the cold.

  Heading back, I looked ahead and once more saw that parking lot. I counted the levels. There were ten of them. That was where I needed to go after I redressed in appropriate clothing. It would give me the advantage of seeing what I could not from the ground level.

  My boots were the only specialized piece of clothing I wore. The coat I had on did give some protection, it was arctic gear, but it was bulky, I wasn’t layered in clothing and it did little to stop the wind from seeping into the jacket. We unloaded every single bag from the Humvee, so my survival through it all was not in question. I believed I had all I needed and plenty of shelter around me. Tony was my main concern.

  One of the duffle bags was named the stranded bag. It was packed as a ‘just in case’ we did get stranded. It contained Mylar blankets and Mylar sleeping bags, Armor-All long underwear and suits called Arctic Armor. The whole bag weighed maybe fifteen pounds if that. I remember first seeing the Arctic Armor and laughing. Bibbed pants and coats that were lightweight. The boots weren’t even a challenge to walk in. No way would they work. How wrong I was. We tested them while temperatures outside the bunker were as low as negative thirty. Not once did I get cold or feel the wind. Of course our tests were limited to one hour, but I had all the confidence in the world that the suits would work under the current conditions.

  I held high hopes as I approached the casino that Tony would be back, that somehow we missed each other in passing.

  Please, be back. Please. I begged in my mind as I made it to the canopied main entrance.

  There was also a chance that someone else had made it in the Casino, so as I entered the door, I pulled out my gun.

  Once inside I called out. “Tony.”

  No response. A sickening feeling hit me. I had wished and prayed he was there. He wasn’t.

  After calling out once more, I unzipped my coat and fumbled for my flashlight to make my way back across the large casino.

  My focus again was getting back to my bags, not really looking too much around. I’d have time when I returned because obviously, I wasn’t going anywhere. I made a mental note here and there about things I saw, things that would aid in my all night survival.

  Half way across the casino floor, I heard it. In the empty large room it was loud.

  Peter calling out.

  “This is Protocol One trying to reach Team A and T. Do you read? Anna? Tony? You there? Over.”

  I hurriedly raced across the room toward the dim light of the doorway where I left the belongings. I thought we left the radios in the Humvee. We didn’t and they were still working.

  “This is protocol One, Anna? Tony? Come in.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” I said and when I arrived at the bags, I searched through. Where was it coming from? Where was Tony’s backpack? I had just tossed everything in the corner.

  Peter’s radio call was steady, he paused only a few seconds in between each call, which gave me the tracking signal I needed to find the bag. The bags sprawled around the floor, as I finally found the backpack sandwiched against the wall.

  I unzipped the bag and pulled out the radio.

  With a nervous voice and slightly out of breath, I replied. “Protocol One this is Anna. I hear you. Over.”

  Pause.

  The voice switched. It no longer was Peter. “Oh, thank God,” Gil said. “Anna, we got the report from Damnation Alley. They said you were stranded. Over.”

  “Roger that,” I said. “About as stranded as one could get right now. We stopped to help a survivor and the vehicle was hijacked. We did unload our bags in case of trouble so I have supplies. Over.”

  “How in the world did you lose the vehicle? Over.”

  “Please don’t ask. It was a sequence of events.”

  “Why didn’t you radio us?” Gil asked. “Why did you radio Damnation Alley?”

  I hesitated before answering. Getting into the fact that Gwen left her BlackBerry in the Humvee was trivial, so I avoided being honest. “They responded for some reason. Maybe the wrong channel,” I said. “But you got the message. Over.”

  “We’re gonna get a rescue team to you. Over.”

  “Gil, you need to wait. The weather is really bad. Besides, I can’t leave until I find Tony. Over.”

  “Wait. Find Tony?”

  “He ran after the people that took the Humvee. He never returned. Over.”

  “How long?” Gil asked.

  I glanced at my watch. “An hour. He’s been gone an hour.”

  “Oh, my God, Anna. Listen, we’re watching the weather. Turn off the radio to save the battery. We’re manned twenty-four seven, so call out any time. Stay inside, you know the routine. Shelter, warm.”

  “I know. I know. I will. But I need to go. Daylight is wasting. Over.”

  “Anna, stay put. Over.”

  “I can’t. I have to look for Tony. I’ll check back. Out.” Before any arguments were made and anymore power used, I turned off the radio.

  I took a moment, hand to the radio, forehead pressed against it. I gathered my courage and my mindset, then I placed the radio in the backpack, pulled out the ‘just in case’ duffle, and prepared for my second journey out there.

  SIX – Floor Ten

  The Arctic Armor was exactly what I needed. It was lightweight and provided me with more mobility. I was not a creature of the snow. The only time I saw snow was when we took a vacation as a youngster and visited an aunt out east. Snow was new to me. How to deal with it and even walk in it. I underestimated the weight it held and how it hindered movements.

  In the time I took to take that radio call and change my clothes, more snow had fallen and it didn’t show any signs of letting up. I left out the door where I kept the bags. The last place I saw Tony. My idea was to go back to where we left the Humvee. Six inches of snow was not enough to bury the tracks.
It couldn’t be.

  We had parked it on the side of the garage. Sure enough, the slightly covered tire tracks swerved some and then went in another direction avoiding the fallen overpass. No turning toward the casino. However, knowing the woman crying out for help was part of it, there was a meet up place. There had to be.

  The garage was my best answer.

  A doorway was next to the side ramp and I opened it. As guessed it led to a stairwell. The moment the door closed, it was black. So dark, had it not been for my flashlight, I wouldn’t see an inch in front of me.

  The concrete stairs with a metal edge were slick from ice and making the journey up was dangerous and frightening. Everything I saw was through the scope of light the beam provided. A small scope. I knew I wasn’t taking that route down. Even though it was longer, I’d walk the garage to get back to the street. I couldn’t take a chance of falling and getting hurt.

  My bunker experience afforded me stamina with the stairs, I was barely out of breath when I reached the tenth floor. The door was hard to push open, it was blocked with snow, but I moved it enough that I could squeeze out.

  It was a blanket of white, so smooth it didn’t look real. The outer door of the stairwell was marred with black marks, possibly soot. The glass doors that led to the elevators were shattered. I trudged across the tenth floor to the complete other side. That would give me the best view out. Behind me was the river, cluttered roadways and disabled ramps.

  From watching movies, one wouldn’t think snow was so difficult to walk in. However, once it reached a certain depth, it wreaked hell on your legs. Lifting, tromping, unable to move fast.

  It was exercise and I knew by the end of the day I’d be worn out.

  Unlike everywhere else, the roof top level did not have a single car. Nothing. I made it to the edge of the roof and leaned against the edge wall. Being at street level, nudged between buildings, gave a limited view. The rooftop did not. In the distance, I couldn’t tell, but I swore I saw black smoke. It was a thin line. I reached into my sack, which draped sideways over my head and across my chest and pulled out the binoculars. Sure enough it was a stream of black smoke. It was far away, yet, not the only one. All across the city, thin streams of smoke carried into the gray sky. It was hard, with everything so white, to judge distance.