by Mike Kraus
Jane furrowed her brow. “What’s that got to do with the people in Kansas City?”
Rick leaned back. “I have been so caught up in getting back home—and now I’m so caught up in this plan—that it’s easy to forget about things like compassion. This is the kind of situation when it’s natural to retreat from other people and try to protect oneself and focus solely on the objective at hand but we can’t do that all the time. Well, I guess we can, but if we do, what does that say about us?”
“So… you’re saying we should have stopped?” Jane looked confused.
“No.” Rick shook his head firmly. “Discernment is important, too. We were attacked in the city and we have no idea if those people we saw fleeing were part of the group that attacked us, or really anything else about them. We know they were running to escape the earthquakes and that’s about it. If we had just been trying to escape and if we had a different vehicle then maybe we could have helped in some way. But in our situation we couldn’t afford to stop. We can’t afford to stop for anything. Not until we finish this. That’s how we help those people and countless others. We finish this.”
“I know.” Jane nodded. “It really sucks, though.”
“I can agree with that.” Dr. Evans chimed in.
“Ditto.” Rick looked at Jane and paused briefly. “We still good?”
Jane nodded slowly and smiled. “Yeah. We’re good.”
Rick smiled and looked at her and Dr. Evans. “I’m glad. I can’t do this nonsense on my own and you two haven’t stabbed me in my sleep yet so I need both of you alive, well and not completely pissed off at me.”
Jane and Dr. Evans both chuckled, then Dr. Evans spoke. “Speaking of this ‘nonsense’, as you put it, our experience in Kansas City has led me to believe that we should steer clear of any large cities from now on. We have fuel and supplies to get all the way to Washington. The potential benefits of further searching are, in my opinion, vastly outweighed by the downsides.”
“I’m with him.” Jane nodded in agreement.
“Same.” Rick nodded as well. “We’ll stick to the highways where we can but we’ll divert around any large cities. They’re not worth the risk.”
“How much longer do you think it’ll take us to get there?” Jane asked.
“A couple more days, most likely. Maybe longer, though.” Rick shrugged. “It depends on the roads and if anything else happens along the way.”
“I hope not.”
“You and me both.”
Chapter 3
Somewhere over the North Pole
The Bear is cold.
Flying at an altitude of forty-five thousand feet, the modified Tupolev Tu-95—nicknamed the Bear—has a small cabin with room for two pilots and five additional crew. The thin metal separating the interior of the aircraft from the exterior does nothing to keep the cold out while the small space heater in the middle of the aircraft serves mostly as a decorative accessory. Threadbare cushions sag against the rough wood and metal seats, providing little comfort as the aircraft bumps and bucks in the turbulence. The men riding inside the aircraft are wrapped in warm clothing from head to toe but the cold still pierces through, a constant reminder that they are unwelcome strangers in the land they are passing through.
While the Bear is pressurized, the age and lack of regular maintenance of the aircraft mean that the air is not quite as thick as it should be. For the two pilots and special forces operatives who have spent the last fifteen years of their life at high altitudes, this means nothing. For the two technicians who have spent their lives in a bunker staring at computer screens it means everything. The technicians keep their oxygen bottles and masks on their laps, taking deep breaths from them every few minutes as their bodies struggle to adjust to the change.
The four men are just over five hours into their eleven-hour journey and despite their discomfort the flight is going well. One of the four engines is leaking fuel, though this was anticipated ahead of time and the external fuel tanks will be more than adequate to ensure the aircraft reaches its destination.
Spetsnaz officer Ostap Isayev, the pilot and leader of the expedition, comes over the internal communications channel of the plane. “We are less than six hours out, assuming the weather holds. At one hour out we will begin final preparations and parachute checks.”
Carl Aliyev—the co-pilot and another Spetsnaz officer—sits next to Isayev while the two technicians sit in the seats behind the pilot and co-pilot chairs. After Isayev’s announcement there is silence on the channel until Oles Belov looks at Jacob Yermakov and thumbs his microphone.
“This weather is shit, eh Jacob?”
Yermakov swallows hard, the Dramamine he had when they took off starting to lose its potency. He nods slowly and grimaces as he replies. “I don’t think I can take another six hours.”
“Just wait till we have to drop in!” Though Belov is a technician he relishes the opportunity to get out of the bunker where he was debugging lines of code. Being selected to fly across the globe and potentially save his homeland from this mysterious digital weapon is both an honor and the fulfillment of several of his long-held fantasies all at once.
Though Belov and Yermakov hadn’t met before they were taken to the bunker shortly after the event, their similar personalities and taste in music and animated television programs meant that they quickly formed a bond with each other. The pair would often work together, trying to find ways to thwart or protect against Damocles. While they—like everyone else on the planet—were unsuccessful, they still learned a great deal about certain aspects of how Damocles functioned. This knowledge, no matter how limited it was, was enough to ensure that they were the two technicians selected for the mission to America.
“I don’t think I can handle a parachute.” Yermakov swallows hard again, tasting acid in the back of his throat. He reaches for a canteen of water but grabs a wax-lined paper bag at the last second. Up front, Isayev and Aliyev glance back at the sound of the retching. They both roll their eyes at each other then turn their attention back to their tasks.
Chapter 4
Blacksburg, VA
Half of the strip mall that contained—among other things—a Chinese restaurant, a dry-cleaner, a dollar store and the First Med Walk-In Clinic was charred to a crisp. The fire had inexplicably stopped halfway through its destruction of the Panda Inn, leaving the clinic and dollar store to the left of the restaurant intact. The blackened roof and walls had collapsed inward on the restaurant while to the right of it there was nothing left of whatever businesses had been located there.
The parking lot in front of the strip mall was completely filled with scorched vehicles. Dianne thought that she might be able to get into the lot by pushing some of the wreckage out of the way but getting back out would likely prove to be impossible.
Forgoing parking directly in front of the walk-in clinic Dianne turned left, pulling off in front of what had once been an oil change service station. The beams of the truck passed over the collapsed structure, revealing that there had been two vehicles inside when the place caught fire. Dianne wondered if the vehicles themselves had been the source of the blaze as she thought back to the sight of her own SUV catching fire and exploding in front of her house.
Dianne eased to a stop in an open area between the street and the service station, keeping the lights on the truck off as she navigated by moonlight. Before leaving the house Sarah had warned Dianne about the likelihood of looters around hospitals due to the opiates and other drugs stored in those locations. Dianne wasn’t certain that there would be any substances in a walk-in clinic that people would want to loot but decided to take the cautious approach regardless.
She grabbed her flashlight and pistol and got out of the truck, crouching next to the vehicle as she scanned the clinic, dollar store and the rest of the surrounding area. A gentle breeze drifted between the buildings, carrying the faint noise of insects from the grass and trees just outside the city. There were no signs of
movement in the area except for the brief flutter of half-burned paper and plastic sheeting that was stuck amongst the ashen ruins. Once Dianne was satisfied that she was alone she retrieved her bag and headed for the walk-in clinic.
The strip mall had obviously been in need of repair and upkeep even before the event, as evidenced by the cracks in the sidewalk, support pillars and underside of the roof. A thick layer of soot and ash lay on every surface, giving the place an unearthly look and feel. The front windows and glass doors of both the dollar store and the clinic had been smashed in and there were traces of dried blood on the ground in front of the clinic.
“Looks like somebody got themselves all cut up.” Dianne murmured to herself as she crouched down to examine the bloody shards of glass. “Not fresh though.” She looked up and pointed her flashlight at the interior of the clinic, the beam casting stark shadows from the frame of the door and the furniture that had been knocked over inside.
Dianne thumbed her pistol’s safety off as she stepped inside the clinic. She scanned the front room with her light and weapon, wincing as the glass beneath her feet cracked and crunched. After confirming that the front of the building was clear of other people she moved into the back rooms, checking each office and waiting room before moving past them. When she reached a large area with cabinets—most of which had been broken open—she stopped and slipped off her backpack and jacket.
Most of the contents of the cabinets had been taken, but Dianne dutifully rolled up her left sleeve and consulted the sharpie-written list of must-haves she had jotted down on her arm before leaving the house. It only took a few minutes for her to check the cabinets and by the end she was disappointed. While there were a few bandages and basic antiseptics she located on some bottom shelves there was nothing left that could be used to help Jason.
Dianne clenched her teeth as she checked through the cabinets and rooms in the clinic one last time. She didn’t know why she thought the walk-in would be a good place to stop considering Sarah had told her what locations would have the medications and fluids they would need for Jason. Wasting even a few minutes on a fruitless search could prove to be fatal for her ill friend.
All right. Time to go. Dianne hurried back to the room with the cabinets to get her jacket and backpack. As she leaned over to grab them she heard a faint noise coming from the back of the building. She froze, turning her head towards the sound as she strained to make out the source. It sounded at first like a distant groaning, perhaps coming from the building’s structure as it shifted, but as she listened she began to realize that it was actually coming from two people who were bickering with each other. Dianne crept towards the back door to the clinic, keeping her body pressed against the wall as she moved cautiously, trying her best not to make any noise.
“…did she go, anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
“Haven’t we looked around here long enough?”
“No! Her lights went off around here. We keep looking till we find her or see that she moved off. You head that way, I’ll go down the street this way.”
“Ugh. I hate going on foot.”
“Get used to it. If we don’t find her then our asses’ll be in a sling.”
As the two men talked with one another Dianne slowly peeked through the hole in the back door where the window had once been located before someone shattered it. Across the back parking lot, standing in front of a row of buildings behind the clinic, stood two men whom she recognized. They were just starting to separate and walk in different directions down the street but Dianne could still see their faces enough to realize who they were.
Them again? Dianne groaned and moved away from the window, closing her eyes as she realized that the two men were the ones who had tried to steal her truck at the grocery store at the start of the event. They were also two of the group who had been present at the Carson’s home when she and Jason heard about Tina’s kidnapping. As she thought about the conversation she just overhead she realized that the “he” they were talking about was most likely the red-shirted individual who was the leader of the group at the gas station.
If he’s got people looking for me… this is bad. Very, very bad.
Chapter 5
Somewhere in Indiana
Smoke was thick in the air, robbing the sky of color and dampening the spirits of Rick, Jane and Dr. Evans. While the drive through Missouri and the southern half of Illinois had been smoother than the trio could have asked for, when they entered Indiana things started taking a turn for the worse. The first sign of trouble ahead came in the form of light swirls of ashes that came and went with the wind. The ash quickly grew in density and was accompanied by thick, acrid smoke that reduced visibility and made it uncomfortable to breathe.
By the time an hour had passed Rick had been forced to reduce their speed from over ninety miles an hour to around thirty just so that he wouldn’t inadvertently collide with any obstacles in the road. The slowdown in pace was infuriating and no matter what road or direction they took they couldn’t escape from the smoke and ash.
“What’s causing all this?” Jane looked out through the windshield and passenger window, shaking her head in frustration.
“Fire. A lot of it.” Dr. Evans answered from the back seat.
“No kidding.” Jane rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin from spending so much time cooped up in the car. “What kind of fire, though?”
“The hot, burning kind?” Rick snickered at his joke though he was the only one of the trio to do so.
“A massive fire, perhaps of a nearby forest. To produce this much ash and smoke in this volume the fires would have to be absolutely enormous.”
“Sure would be nice if the wind would change.” Rick swerved to avoid a hole in the highway. “Then maybe we could see more than a few inches beyond our faces.”
“Hey guys?” Jane was staring out the windshield. “Is it just me or is the smoke and ash getting… more orange?”
It took a moment for Rick and Dr. Evans to notice the change, but they slowly realized that Jane wasn’t just seeing things. The sky was, indeed, beginning to take on an orange hue that was backdropped by a glow that would look good on the cover of a horror novel but when viewed in reality was terrifying in ways that Rick couldn’t even begin to express. As the car began to crest a hill, the breeze picked up and the trees by the side of the road swayed back and forth. The ash and smoke swirled, rising and falling as it dispersed slightly, just enough to extend the visibility by enough to see what was causing the glow.
When Rick had taken family vacations with his parents to visit his grandparents in Oklahoma, one of his favorite memories was spending each afternoon watching a movie with his grandfather. Rick’s grandfather liked older movies and his favorite actor was John Wayne. Many westerns were consumed over the years, but Rick’s favorite John Wayne movie wasn’t a western at all. Rick didn’t remember much about the plot of Hellfighters but one thing was cemented in his mind forever: the image of burning oil wells that looked like fountains of pure flame.
Beyond the road, out in a distant field, sat the infrastructure that supported the local oil mining operations. Dozens of pumps and drills littered the field, some covered in rust from years of use while others had been installed mere months prior. Instead of slowly pumping away, though, the oil wells were on fire, and just like in Hellfighters, they looked like fountains spitting out flames.
Smoke billowed into the sky, blocking out the blue for miles in every direction. Even from the extreme distance they were sitting Rick could swear he felt the heat from the fires. It took no small amount of concentration to keep from backing the car up, turning around and finding a path that would take them far, far from the field. The oil wells, however, were not the only things that were on fire.
Past the field, barely visible through the cloud of smoke and the torrents of flame was a veritable ocean of fire. The side of the distant mountain, covered a month prior by a dazzling mixture of red, yel
low and green was now pure orange. The fire was moving slowly through the trees, speeding up when the wind picked up and slowing down when it faded away. Rick’s mouth silently opened and closed several times as he kept trying to find the words to describe the landscape laid out before them.
“It’s as if hell itself has come to earth.” Dr. Evans whispered from the back seat. “Look, out among the fields. You see the cracks in the ground? More like what we saw in Kansas City.”
“You still think Damocles did it?”
“A handful of examples is scarcely proof positive but I think I can say with absolute certainty that the weapon is responsible for this.” Dr. Evans looked at Rick. “This is only going to get worse. We must continue with all possible speed.”
Rick nodded and set their car in motion again, taking advantage of the temporary clearing of the air to get past the area as quickly as possible. It didn’t take more than a mile or so more of traveling before Rick realized that they wouldn’t be able to continue without taking some serious risks.
“Look, out there.” Rick slowed the car as he pointed out the left window to the north. “See that fire?”
Dr. Evans and Jane craned their necks, seeing another distant forest fire that was a few miles off. “What about it? It’s still a ways out, right?” Jane looked at Rick.
“Yeah, but look at where we have to go.” Rick tapped on the screen in the car and zoomed in on the map to their approximate location. “This road curves north for the next leg of the journey. We’re going to be driving straight into that inferno.”
“Why can’t we take one of these back roads out to the east?” Jane pointed at the screen.
“We could. But it’s risky. Most of them wind all through the hills and loop back on themselves. If the wind changes direction and pushes the fires closer to us we’ll have no way to escape.”