Another click. Lines flash all over the screen while the lights in the area turn off.
“At 10:32, there were five-hundred reports of poor television and internet reception. People called the major carriers with issues and those issues were reported as standard irregularities.”
The video footage continues rolling; the color fades out to black and white, players have stopped playing, fans have begun to stand, and then the screen goes black.
“At 10:35, there were fifteen-thousand reports of zero television or internet reception. People called major carriers with issues and those issues were then brought to management. Until the phone lines went out at 10:36.”
Another click. The timestamp on the bottom of the screen shows 10:33. It’s an upscale dining room with large bar and steel doors leading to the kitchen. Several waitresses run in and out of the doors before 10:35 hits and the lights begin to flash. The patrons are alarmed, but attempt to remain composed.
“What you see here is footage from a hotel restaurant downtown. Approximately two miles south of where our last footage was shown.”
Another click.
“This is 10:33 footage outside the Capitol.”
Nothing was on the screen. She clicked again.
“This is 10:33 traffic footage.”
The screen was black. Another click.
“This is footage from the only operational ATM at 10:33 in South Salt Lake”
The screen was barely lit enough to show people running at the top of the camera, just inside of view. It wasn’t much to look at, but there were people running constantly.
And then the screen went blank.
“Between 10:33 and 10:36, every camera, computer, and phone server suffered a massive malfunction. Aside from one camera.”
Another click. It was a street view, the clock read 10:56.
President Watt chimed in, “Lieutenant Sergeant Greene, before we continued. I need to make something clear: what you have seen has not been the result of any sanctioned attempts to cut off communication. We’ve traced back the origins, and find only dead ends. Even Marshall’s team could not find anything, and you know their reputation.”
“They say it never happened. The blackout never existed.” Marshall added.
Both men turned back to the screen and watched while Sarah continued, “There is no aerial view of Salt Lake City. Unfortunately, the satellite malfunctioned. Coincidentally, it was the same malfunction as everything else. From security camera footage to a nationally broadcast sporting event. Everything suffered the same fate at the hands of the same anonymous, untraceable, undefinable electromagnetic pulse.”
“Correction, Francis, there were several EMPs.” Martin added.
Sarah replied, “Why don’t you go ahead and take it from here?” She handed him the clicker and peered at Conrad out of the corner of her eye.
Martin took over, “Oh, oh, okay. Yes, I can do that. Basically, to keep it in layman’s terms; there was an attack on Salt Lake City, and it began with several large scale, highly evolved, electromagnetic pulses causing a blackout. You’ve seen how it starts with the satellites, but it soon trickles down to light bulbs. But first, there is something else that happened.
The footage on the screen began to play. It was a view from a corner stop-light. The main street was empty aside from one body. One man was laying in the middle of the intersection.
“Do you remember the legs from the ATM footage?” Martin asked.
Conrad ignored his question and continued watching the body slowly squirm in pain.
Another click, this time pausing the video.
“Of course you do.” He flashed a laser at the top of the street, along the edge of the camera’s view were people standing beside one another, the view cut off the top parts of their bodies, “now look at those legs, we don’t have the picture clarity or background to verify they are the same people. But the coincidence is certainly questionable. See how they stand just out of view? Creepy, no?”
“Concerning. What happened to the boy?”
“We don’t have footage between 10:35 and 10:56. So it’s impossible to verify. However, it looks like he was hit by a car.”
Another click.
Martin continued on, “This is where things get tricky.”
Another line of people stood at the bottom of the screen. The body continued moving. Finally, a man walked out of the crowd at the top of the screen. He was wearing a suit.
Conrad watched on as the man killed the victim on the ground. This event incited a riot. The rest of the people at the top of the screen chased after the others with blurred speed. Conrad thought they moved more like wild animals than people.
“Thanks, Chris. Allow me to take it from here,” Marshall said. “This is the only video footage we have after 10:35, and it goes black pretty soon too.” He reached for the clicker and pulled it from Martin’s hand. He was too busy admiring the footage to notice, until it was gone. “What stands out to you here, Greeny?”
Marshall clicked again, an enhanced picture taken from the video of the man in the suit.
Conrad cleared his throat and said, “Ahem, well, first, you’re telling me of an established quarantined zone keeping all threats outside, while also successfully trapping any potential survivor inside. This is a concern. Also, we’ve seen one piece of footage, which does not look promising, but does not guarantee terrorism. Third, we should have taken counter measures sooner than seventy-two hours after first contact. Fourth, why are we only viewing satellite footage from forty-eight hours ago? I would hope with Mr. Martin here we had access to more recent happenings. Finally, have we run facial recognition for this man in the suit?”
“Report came up empty,” Marshall replied.
President Watt turned away from the screen and faced Conrad, “This is the only footage we have, because all other attempts to gain access have been met with malfunction and server failure. Even the most reliable satellites have shorted out. As for your issue on timing, we would not send soldiers into a hostile area with technology we cannot even fathom unless we had an idea of the threat itself. There have been zero reports of anyone leaving Salt Lake City. This indicates a larger scale than what we could establish on the video. This indicates a superior enemy.”
“What is the plan of action moving forward, sir?” Conrad asked.
Marshall clicked again, the screen showed the black and white satellite view of Salt Lake City.
President Watt spoke first, “We need to prevent this threat from spreading. We have decided Operation Red Wave our only option, unless you can find something here to steer me otherwise.”
Chatra knocked on the table, drawing attention to himself. “Sirs, if I may. There is one element you must acknowledge before further decision; as you can see from the picture here, the city appears to be covered by a white substance from end to near end. Being devoid of human life is a concern, but the spread should also indicate a severe biological threat. While we are unable to identify the substance, which is nothing short of a scientific tragedy, I believe we must act swiftly in order to prevent the continued spread in other geographic regions. What we are proposing is as environmentally protective as it is offensive against whatever threat there may be.”
“Hold on,” Conrad interrupted, “Are you saying this camera footage is not black and white?”
Martin answered, “Notice the small patch of green grass up on this hill. The only place we have visual confirmation of color, but the only confirmation we need. I speak for everyone in this room when I say that all we can see is an enemy capable of silent mass destruction. We’ve been forced to tell the American public a lie, but the threat of this decay spreading means we must stop the bleeding. Operation Red Wave kills a couple of birds with one really big bomb.”
President Watt interjected, “Greeny, I want there to be another way. Tell me you find a hole in this.”
“Sir,” Conrad replied. He couldn’t. They had done the work already. W
hat else to say? This was why having Marshall meant you did not need Green. Yet, here he sat, in a boardroom of vipers, scared vipers.
“Now you see why I needed you here. If anyone could look at the facts and find a more diplomatic and careful approach, it would be you. I needed someone who would have a crisis of conscience about this, since we both know Sergeant Major Marshall doesn’t have one of those anymore.”
“Haven’t had it since Cape Town.”
“Exactly. We’re not dealing with a brainwashed extremist nor a highly trained soldier. This is a first world ghost story. Do you remember the stories from that little tribe just off the south Nile? Tribesmen believed ghosts were stealing their children at sundown. Their attempts to protect themselves only made it worse, and eventually even some of the women were being slaughtered overnight as well. Do you remember this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“They called them ‘Subas’, which meant some cross between a shadow and an echo. It wasn’t long before the fear of the subas became a religion, and they began to offer children as sacrifice. Eventually they killed off their own future because they believed it was the only way to save their present. The Chief was the last skeptic in the tribe, and they burned him at the stake.
“I believe these are real life subas, and this nation cannot afford for us to wait until the hysteria starts. Is there anything you see that can persuade me not to give this operation a go?”
“No sir. I cannot,” Conrad replied. “I would like to request a role in Operation Red Wave.”
-
Vicodin, whisky, and a missing leg were lethal ingredients for a hangover. It wasn’t Harry’s first time at burning the candle at both ends, but he never drank so much he woke up missing a leg. One thing he had not lost, actually one thing he found during his binge of insanity, was his sense of humor about all of this. He could admit to himself and these other folks, he had been taking himself too seriously for the past few years, and it darn near brought him to end his own life. Not willing to joke about the good and the bad made him a really angry man, and his anger made him stupid.
This hangover was no laughing matter, though, and each time someone brought their hammering voice into the conversation, Harry’s brain felt like it was going to explode. All except for Mona, when she spoke it was like cool aloe on the burn. She was something special.
The idea of the nation’s leaders dropping a bomb on this city because of a bunch of wild freaks was sad, scary, and also understandable. If the outside world didn’t know about Mona and all our big wigs knew was the freaks, then sure go ahead and blow it all to smithereens. They had no idea they were making a mistake. Mona didn’t hold it against anyone, so Harry wouldn’t either.
Mona had explained everything she knew to the group. No one had a hard time listening to her or respecting her authority other than Greg, who took offense to darn near every word she spoke like she was tearing out pages of his school books. Even Shelly, who just lost her dad acted more like an adult.
Greg thought listening to a little girl like Mona was stupid and only kept making himself look like a twit in the process. He was trying too hard to embarrass her, as if she was his competition. He didn’t give her a chance, but she would win him over eventually. If a worthless dummy like Harry can make the change, so could Greg.
Mona sent four people to get supplies; Mickey and Jenna were sent to the grocery store a few blocks down, one of those nicer stores where the food was healthy and tasted like fresh cardboard, and Greg returned to the pharmacy bringing Shelly along with him this time. Harry didn’t have the same jealousy as he did yesterday about not being invited to the party. He had become a bit of a homebody overnight.
He kept himself comfortable on the couch while Tink and Mona walked over to the Grand American for bedding. It was nice to get some alone time. Harry looked around his musty apartment and couldn’t help but smile. This was where his life used to be. This was the place where he wanted to kill himself but was saved before he grew the courage to be a coward, and now he was leaving this place forever.
A bomb in Salt Lake City?
Knowing the government would rather blow everything up instead of coming to help was no surprise. It’s an American tradition to sweep mistakes under the rug. Good ol’ President Watt was probably shaking in his presidential britches thinking about the freaks. Not Harry though, he was done running.
Because he didn’t have a leg anymore.
-
“Think anyone could use this?” Mickey held up something that looked like electric hair clippers. “Maybe Asher could electrocute some bad guys.”
“What is that?” Jenna asked.
“It’s a taser! I think I want to take it. Can I have it?” He asked.
“Mona gave us strict orders on what we are to take from here.” Jenna replied. “So, no. Leave them back there. It’s not like those monsters can get stunned, ya know?”
Mickey put the taser back behind the counter and pushed his cart down the first isle. “Soooo… should we get a six pack of beer or a case of beer?” He asked. They were working their way through the convenience store each pushing a shopping cart. Mickey was constantly being funny, both intentionally and unintentionally. He was silly and goofy and was really nice to help Jenna walk to the grocery store. His small talk was sweet and disarming; he didn’t seem like most guys their age.
“I totally need a case for myself.”
Okay, he’s still like most guys. At least he’s nice though.
Jenna replied, “We were told to bring cases of water. No beer, no wine, no juice. Just water.”
“Booooorrring,” he said. “How about two cases of beer too? One for the group and one for me?”
“Water and more water, and I think we are the last two people on earth who should drink, don’t you?”
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I don’t want to get on Mona’s bad side, that’s for sure. For being a little girl, she’s sorta scary.”
“She is. And she saved my life. And she’s wonderful. And she’s going to get us out of this.”
“Hopefully, as long as Asher is able to ‘clear the path’.”
Jenna paused. The thought of Asher and Ben fighting was awful. Jenna couldn’t picture having to fight someone to stay alive. So far, everyone else has fought her battles for her. First it was Robert, then it was Edie, and finally Lynn. It was sickening to know they all died because of her. Would Asher be next?
If Asher dies, so do you. At least, so says Mona.
“Anyways, enough of that,” Mickey interrupted her thought. “What did you do before everything happened?”
“You mean like, for a job?”
“Sure.”
“I was in school at NYU. Didn’t have a job. Just hung out with friends and stuff. Normal college girl. How about you?”
“I never had a consistent job, never took the time to finish college credits either. I just lived, man. I spent all my time hanging with my friends or sleeping. At least, until the weekend. I worked at a few different places from time to time. Mainly shoe stores and gyms. But only enough to pay for the bar tab and rent. After all of this stuff, I wish I would have done more with my life before everything happened. I could have, but was too lazy. And too afraid. Which is embarrassing to say. My whole life has been one long reminder of my ability to skate by with luck and no goals. That’s probably why all of my friends eventually bail on me and never became more than drinking buddies. I surrounded myself with people like me, shallow and fake. Makes for pretty worthless friends.” Mickey said and paused for a moment. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
Jenna didn’t find that funny. She found it sad. “I’ll be your friend, Mickey. You don’t need a job. You don’t need a career. You have every opportunity to start over and be whatever you want to be. Mona makes it sound like we’re in this for the long haul, so we stick together. That means we need to keep each other positive. I used to be a crappy person too, I guess. Someone who just complained to her bo
yfriend until he did whatever she asked for. I abused my boyfriend’s love for me and took advantage of his money. I am the reason Lynn died. The reason Edie died. I’ll need someone to keep me positive too. Do you think we can rely on each other for that?”
“A boyfriend?”
“Yes. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh come on….”
“Stop.”
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Is he…?”
“Yeah, he’s gone.”
“Oh…” Mickey lowered his eyes away from Jenna. “I’m really sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Boy… I guess I really stink at the whole encouraging thing, huh?” Mickey asked, smiling. He dropped a bag of potato chips in Jenna’s cart. “Let’s eat our feelings tonight, how about that?”
“Deal.”
-
On the opposite side of The Commodore, a few white dusted blocks away from Mickey walked Greg and Shelly who were awkwardly forced together. Their appointed companionship was validation of Mona having no idea what she was doing. They had nothing in common and barely interacted thus far. Greg could not protect her; she could not protect Greg. There was no benefit to them being paired together. Yet Mona insisted, and Shelly followed her blindly.
Greg had passed the point of argument and decided quietly follow along with Mona’s poorly conceived planning. She would fail, and he would save the day. It was not as if he forgot his physical limitations, but Greg was a problem solver. Last night, above all else, Greg had found in himself the willingness to stop at nothing in order to be safe. It had been there all along, on the roof as well as in the dumpster. Greg would do whatever he must in order to survive. He was no blind follower like Shelly; he was no foolish twit without a voice. No sense in conversing with a sheep.
“So tell me, Shelly,” he said while walking ahead of her. “Why are you willing to follow her?”
Shelly didn’t answer right away. In her mind, she needed to figure out the best response without sounding like an idiot. She had to have known the decision was poor, she did not want to get into a debate with Greg. She wasn’t fit to make decisions on her own, but she chose to follow Mona despite her clear immaturity and lack of a concise objective. Thus, Shelly naturally needed time before giving an answer to his question.
Dark Genesis (Shadow and Shine Book 1) Page 29