by Ric Dawson
More people appeared from side streets and joined the growing throng. They headed away from the lethal radiation downtown. Soon thousands packed the street behind Cindy. Word had spread that a healer, an honest to God healer was here. A miracle, she can get you to safety, they said.
People later agreed that aches disappeared, pain eased, burns lost their redness, terror and hopelessness faded. Hope replaced fear.
Some said it was just positive attitude and the natural resilience of the American pioneer spirit. Others thought mass hysteria caused the hallucinations.
Murmurs and whispers of “Praise God” and “Blessed Be” swirled among the gathered humanity. Hope bloomed like sunflowers opening under a dreary sky. It pushed back the gloom, the horror, the terror.
The snow got heavier as the clouds above darkened. It stuck to the remains of burned-out buildings, denuded and toppled trees, and the gruesome, blackened bodies of those caught in the open. Soon, a layer of angelic white hid the frightening scene and spirits rose.
A murmur rose into a chant, and Psalm 23:4 echoed off the snowy drifts.
“Yea, Thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I shall fear no evil …”
People spoke the words regardless of faith. Humanity gathered together as one.
# # #
Pono
As the vehicles charged down the interstate, Sergeant Pono Kamaka had an epiphany.
“We need to head to Manitou Springs via Highway 67, through Deckers and Woodland Park,” he said.
“What? That’s not the route we trained with,” Corporal Nash replied.
“Take the next exit and side road us over to Highway 67. We need to approach Colorado Springs from the west. Current winds over the city are towards the east and north. We will run into fallout and the lanes will be blocked.”
“Yes, sir,” Corporal Nash replied as he watched for the side road exits.
“They had a warning, Corporal. The roads will be packed with panicked people trying to get out of the city. Unlike the terrorist scenarios we have trained on, these are not ten-kiloton homemade nukes. These are military spec, high-yield, nuclear warheads. The Black Forest will be an inferno. What the nukes don’t burst into flame, the wildfires will claim. Firestorms everywhere. We won’t be able to use our planned sites.”
Pono picked up the radio microphone. “Sergeant Smith, we are taking Highway 67 to approach Colorado Springs from the west. Exit is coming up.”
“Roger, taking Highway 67,” Sergeant Smith said over the cab speaker.
Moments later, the night sky grew impossibly bright, as if the sun had popped up instantly at dawn. The southern horizon lit up, three times in rapid succession.
“Aw, shit,” Corporal Nash muttered.
“Damn,” Pono replied. “Okay people, it’s show time. Stay alert. Let’s get our jobs done. Remember your training.”
Traffic ahead began to thin as cars pulled onto the interstate median by the hundreds, heading back to Denver. Traffic northbound slowed and choked up fast.
A minute later the roadbed buckled and rolled as the surface waves from the three blasts sped by. Three minutes later the sound wave hit. Pops followed by low-frequency roaring booms echoed over the darkened landscape.
Pono’s team had exited on a feeder onto Highway 85 to zig over to Highway 67 when the local emergency channel squawked. A patrol car was behind them, lights off. He matched speeds.
The officer was on the radio.
“You guys need escort?”
Picking up the mic, Pono responded, “Absolutely and thanks, we’re heading through Deckers and down to Manitou Springs from the west to avoid traffic and fallout. Can you guys keep traffic from spilling over into both lanes? If those lanes get clogged, we’ll be stuck.”
“Can do,” came the terse response. The police car’s lights and siren spun up. The officer radioed a sit-rep to fellow responders. Five miles later, Highway 67 came into view. A police car was holding traffic; flares were spread out across the intersection. The two WMD-CST survey vehicles sped by with the police cruiser escort in the lead. They zoomed down Highway 67 towards Deckers and Woodland Park. Travel slowed on the mountain roads, but traffic was light. Police cars whipped by as local cruisers patrolled the road to keep access clear for emergency vehicles. Four ambulances joined them on the rush towards the devastated city.
It took an hour to get to Woodland Park. On the radio, other first response teams from Pueblo, Denver, and surrounding cities reported taking back roads, moving to Woodland Park as a preliminary staging area. Until the fallout pattern was clear, moving emergency assets to the east of Colorado Springs was too dangerous. Pono was proud of the efficiency of first responders in the state.
“Looks like Homeland Defense (DHS) is establishing Manitou Springs as the Incident Command Post (ICP). Staging will take place in Woodland Park. Guess they agreed with my assessment.” Sergeant Kamaka nodded to himself.
“The people are going to need a lot of help here, sir,” Corporal Nash remarked.
Emergency lighting and tents camps sprang up in the dark of night around them as the radiation survey team sped through Woodland Park. The roads were clear through the town and the team followed the flare-lit roadbed. Heavy supply trucks from western Colorado towns lumbered behind them.
“Looks like supplies for the staging camp have arrived, sir,” Nash said.
Pono just nodded. He knew that soon the tent camp would fill with tens of thousands of homeless survivors.
Sergeant Smith piped over the mic, “Update from CST Command. Two C-130 MAFF air tankers are activated and fueling in Denver. They’ll drop fire retardant and water slurry to contain the canyon fire so we can get in and set up.”
“Thanks, Jack,” Pono mic’d back.
Rolling down the highway, the occupants of both vehicles could see the long lines of people on the road filing past in the gloom. Exhausted eyes, briefly caught in the headlamps as they roared by. They came to the steep sloping part of the highway as it dropped through Waldo Canyon to the plains far below. Wildfires raced up the canyons all around them; flame tops stretched to the sky like writhing fire snakes licking columns of billowing smoke. The orange glows of the fire line bloomed on every mountain top. They were surrounded by flame and smoke as far as the eye could see.
They entered the thick smoke and visibility dropped to twenty feet.
“Jack. Looks like the road ahead is smoked in. Fires are running both sides of the canyon and kicking up a firestorm to the north of Manitou. Holy crap!!” Sergeant Kamaka yelped as the truck went into a side skid and just missed two white-faced, wild-eyed teens running up the middle of the road.
Tires screeched as Corporal Nash muscled the vehicle back under control. Nash pumped the brakes to a stop, heart thumping. “Geesus,” he said, breathless.
“Jack, you okay?” Sergeant Kamaka mic’d.
“Yeah, just cleaning up the urine from Rucker here,” Sergeant Smith mic’d back.
That brought a snicker from Nash.
“Heh, that’s not fair, sir. I drank a bit last night and thought I was in the bathroom,” Rucker mic’d.
“Ruck, how the hell do you confuse a TV with a toilet?” Nash mic’d.
“Sal, I know you’re new on the team but you should know, Rucker is a bit of a drama queen. Hence the endless butt of jokes, which he usually mans up to,” Pono mic’d.
“Chief, that’s not fair. You guys are picking on me because I’m white,” Rucker mic’d.
“Ah, yeah, I didn’t want to say anything,” Sal replied.
“Rucker does just fine, Nash, it’s your driving that worries me more,” Pono said, glancing over at Nash.
“Yeah, I admit that one snuck up on me, Chief, won’t happen again,” Nash said.
“Okay, we’re going to ease down slow and try the last offramp for Manitou,” Pono mic’d.
“Roger, Chief,” Jack mic’d.
As they slowly crept forward,
the road filled with people. Glancing over to the northbound lane, they saw traffic was at a standstill. Anyone that wasn’t affected by the EMP was stuck in the traffic caused by those that were. Some parts of the roadway in the canyon had a straight unobstructed view of the city. Vehicles there had exploded after their gas tanks ignited. The canyon faced the plains and bore the brunt of the blast head on. Once in the canyon on the northbound side, there was no getting out.
People continued to stream by with bugout bags and wheelbarrows full of supplies. Any cars that survived had long since hightailed it to Woodland Park and beyond. Corporal Nash and Corporal Rucker eased down the sloping road. Coming around a bend, the road straightened and before them stood the remains of Colorado Springs.
The chatter stopped as everyone gawked at the firestorm.
The foothills blazed with heavy smoke drifting over the mountains and plains. Strangely, the city center was dark with only a few fires.
“Not much fire downtown, Chief,” Rucker said.
“Yep, looks burnt-out,” Pono replied.
The survey team vehicles worked their way through the crowds and got off the highway onto Manitou Avenue.
“Sir, I’m getting significant rad count,” Rucker announced.
“Crap, we should have suit-prepped earlier.”
Grabbing the mic, Pono said, “The wildfire’s updraft along the mountain’s flank is pulling the debris cloud our way. Let’s suit up, guys. Hustle. Put on your SCBA masks before you exit the vehicles, then switch to the CBRN suits.” Pono knew that was poor practice but better than nothing.
Corporal Nash pulled off to the side of the road in the intersection of the offramp and Manitou Avenue, then strapped down his filter mask. Hustling out of the vehicles, the team opened the back of the radiation survey truck and grabbed the racked CBRN suits inside. The smoke was thick in the air as trees and buildings burned around them. People started showing up and milled around.
“What should we do?” someone yelled from the small crowd.
“Seek shelter, stay inside until morning!” Pono yelled back.
Pono yelled over to Corporal Jones, “Rucker, get me a five-minute rad count, see if you can estimate the trend.”
“Roger, sir,” Rucker said.
“Jack, are you on with Command?”
“Comms are good,” Jack yelled back.
Pono scanned the area. There, on the other side of the Highway 24 overpass, a car wash. He could just see it through the smoke
“Tell them we’re setting up on Manitou Avenue and Highway 24. We’ll be on the north side of the highway next to a car wash.”
“Roger.”
“Jack, also check on local medical volunteers in Manitou Springs. Let them know we’re here,” Pono continued. “Okay folks, let’s get the tent up and the tables ready. This is going to be a long night!”
Pono noticed the container of poi sitting on the seat beside him. Looking skyward, he sent a silent prayer to the family aumakua, their spirit guardian. Behind him, a great fire owl rose from a burning tree and flew northward.
After they suited up, the team jumped in the vehicles and pulled under the highway bridge.
Ten minutes later, while they were getting the medical tent out, Manitou Springs Volunteer Fire and Rescue roared up the road with two engines and an EMS vehicle. A muscled man got out of the EMS vehicle and headed toward Sergeant Kamaka, waving.
“I’m Captain Reynolds, what can we do to help?” the muscled captain yelled from several feet away.
“We haven’t got a Command Post up yet, Captain, but we are setting up a medical tent near the car wash. We need some people to open up this motel and help us prep the area. Several thousand irradiated people are going to come up that road soon and we need to be ready. Also, you think you can subdue the fire burn near the roadway? That smoke is real thick.”
Even in the partial light of vehicle head lamps, Pono could see the captain pale a bit as he realized just how many injured would be coming their way.
“Right. We can help with that and your tent setup. We have working vehicles and systems in the city.” Turning back to his vehicle, the captain grabbed his SCBA unit while issuing orders to the firefighters. Manitou Springs PD showed up minutes later. The Police Chief and his officers wasted no time, getting on SCBA gear and CBRN suits, lending a hand in preparation for the injured. Long hours of preparation paid off. Amidst the horror of the midnight roar of nearby wildfire and thousands of panicked humanity, the first responder community came together.
Word went out on the location of the medical tent and local Community Emergency Response Team (CERT ) volunteers began to show up. Someone rolled in a diesel generator and big floodlights lit up the night.
Burn victims appeared from the surrounding darkness. First a few, then tens, and then hundreds as the number of injured kept rising. Relay cars transported the severe cases to buildings and small clinics in Manitou Springs to get them off their feet and out of the cold. But within hours, those were full.
After that, they lined them up on cots organized in rows in large buildings, then down by gurgling Fountain Creek. Blankets and water were provided by locals. Volunteer doctors manned the medical tent while Pono’s team monitored radiation levels and the wash, getting those coming from the city out of their clothes and into the car wash to get the radioactive debris out of their hair and off skin.
Sal handed out radiation diagnostic badges to track total radiation doses. More tents went up, and nurses and doctors came in droves. Civilians helped where they could to keep the human traffic jostling through the wash and relocation process while helping the severely injured to the medical tents.
ELEMENTAL AND HEALER
Pono gazed over the growing mob in the thick smoke.
He knew there were no facilities to handle third-degree burn victims. Most of the area hospitals were gone or deep in fallout zones. Even those could not handle tens of thousands of burn victims. Some could be airlifted around the country and to nearby states, but most would die from infection or shock.
Airborne embers from the fires threatened to land among the vehicles, and medical supplies were running out.
“Sal, put some fire retardant around the vehicles,” Pono mic’d.
“Okay, Chief.”
“We can’t even sedate them,” Pono muttered to the wind. Tears filled his eyes. They would have to live with their misery, dying inch by inch.
Pono recalled planners giving him a blank stare when asked what would happen if military nukes went off. They knew, as well as he, that there was no planning for a disaster like this. There were too many unknowns. You planned what you could. Tried to prepare where you could, and prayed some bureaucrat wouldn’t pull the rug out from under your funding.
Even then, people would die, painfully, horribly. All a responder could do was give them comfort, a warm hand and a soft reassuring voice, someone to be with in those frightening, final hours of life.
He gazed into the night and the darkness grew a little darker.
“We could use a little help here,” he said, looking skyward. His eyes drifted up as blazing fires roared nearby, lighting the ominous clouds above. A sooty snowflake gently floated down from the sky and landed at his feet. Winds had shifted back to the east and black snow fell on the front range.
Endless crowds emerged from the fire-lit blackness like terror-stricken ghosts. They hobbled and shuffled, then disrobed before going into the car wash showers.
People packed the eastbound lane and supply trucks struggled against them.
Pono glanced to the west. Volunteers worked to clear the wrecks in the gorge. By morning, the westbound lane to Woodland Park would be open.
“Need a break?” Sergeant Jack Smith had come up behind him.
“Yeah, thanks, Jack. Maybe rest the voice for a bit.”
Pono turned to head over to the truck for water when he saw the growing crowd of burn victims near the entrance to the main medical tent. They
couldn’t process them fast enough and the severely burned had collapsed around the entryway. Many were still flash blind.
“Must have been looking towards the detonation,” he muttered. All of the injured were burned at least second degree. Most were showing signs of Acute Radiation Syndrome: vomiting, diarrhea, nausea, and fatigue. Pono hurried over to a firefighter directing the injured.
“How are we doing on getting the injured into town?” Pono asked the firefighter.
“The cars can’t keep up, there are too many.”
“Let’s get them over on the north side of the roadway in that parking lot by the Days Inn. Start the triage there. Pull extra blankets from the motels and keep them warm. Evacuate the motels and use the beds for those we can save. If you’re not up on triage protocols, I’ll assign Corporal Kitridge to help out,” Pono said.
“Those we can save go in beds, those we cannot go in the parking lot first, then find the best ground for them you can. Got it, sir,” the firefighter replied. She hustled up the street towards the Days Inn motel.
Pono watched the burning sky from the middle of the street. The light snow did little to thwart the raging fires.
He sensed the rise and fall of the winds. Cold air drawn into the city from higher elevation had settled under the hot air.
“The smoke will get worse,” Pono murmured.
Cold air drawn into the city from higher elevation had settled under the hot air.
Fire engines eased by the crowds and sprayed water behind The Days Inn. Steam rose where fire encroached.
Responders pulled injured from the buildings as fire engulfed one after another.
Nothing could be done for the thousands that lay collapsed in rows, in parking lots, driveways and sidewalks.
The snow and fire engines kept the Days Inn from burning down, but all of the other buildings lining the street were gutted.
The heavy smoke took a toll on the injured survivors. Many had fallen alongside the road, unable to breathe or overcome by smoke inhalation. Visibility dropped to meters.