Buck shifted into higher gears to put off the inevitable passing maneuver, but that presented new challenges. The heavy load that had slowed him on the climb was going to be hard to control on the descent unless he kept his speed low.
That wasn’t an option.
Buck got the Peterbilt up to speed, but the VW still caught up easily. He was about eighty-five percent sure two bikers were in the yellow car, but the morning sun glared off the windshield. That made it hard to see in, so he wasn’t able to guarantee it was them.
“Sit tight,” he told Connie. Then, as he noticed Mac still at her feet, “And you, too.”
He let go of the shifter, wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans, and picked up the nine-millimeter pistol.
I have to be sure.
Buck timed it so he could peek out the moment the car was parallel with him, but he planned to duck back into his seat rather than fire the gun. After almost killing those other men, he needed visual confirmation of the enemy before engaging them. Unless they fired first. Then it would be go-time.
Aim at the tires.
The car didn’t slow down as it approached, which led him to believe it wasn’t the bikers. As the little yellow bug sped by, one of the Trash Pandas held a gun out his window and brandished it in the stiff wind. Buck snarled and leaned away from the window, assuming he was about to be shot.
“New Mexico plates! That’s my car!” Connie said at almost the same instant. She’d stood up to get a good look as it went by. “Shoot it!”
He gripped the gun firmly but didn’t stick it out the window.
The driver of the VW didn’t slow down.
“They stole my damned car,” Connie said angrily as she adjusted the 10/22 on her lap. For a moment, Buck thought she was going to start shooting at the guys, but all she did was watch them drive away.
Her car cruised down the hill, passing slower vehicles just as it had on the climb up. The VW went around a distant bend. The brake lights never came on.
“This has to be some kind of trap,” Buck suggested. He checked his side mirror again, certain there was going to be a wave of angry bikers at his back door. There were lots of cars, but no motorcycles. “The guys in your car are going to set up a roadblock up ahead.”
He thought back to the abandoned Yosemite roadblock, but the circumstances were different on this road. One car couldn’t effectively block a four-lane highway.
Is that their plan?
“You’ll just ram him, won’t you?” she said after a moment of thought. “I mean, the truck is big enough, right?”
“Yeah…” His voice wavered. Even a controlled crash could damage his Peterbilt in the process, and it might also increase their odds of a breakdown. If the choice was between ramming them or getting shot, it would be worthwhile, but the act would put his whole trip at risk. Getting to Garth would be delayed, possibly for a long time, and that didn’t even get into the financial problems a major fender bender would cause him.
Connie played with the bangle on her wrist again. “I’m sorry for all this.”
Buck was sorry, too. He felt terrible that he’d had to shoot the bikers, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that they were the ones who had first brought out the guns. He had acted with honor, although that quaint notion was less important now. Once the shooting had started, there had been only two options: Life, or death.
He would do whatever it took to carry out his mission of getting back to Garth. Begrudgingly, he acknowledged that he would also do anything to protect Connie, now that she was riding shotgun in his truck. She also seemed like a nice person. She had expressed sorrow at what happened, but they didn’t want to think of themselves as victims.
“They started it,” Buck said out loud, as much for himself as Connie. “I’ll take the rifle, please,” he told her. “I’ll trade you.”
Buck handed the PX4 Storm to her, and she gave the rifle to him. Connie held the pistol in almost the proper way. She didn’t put her finger on the trigger, which made him think that she wasn’t a total gun newbie, even if she had never fired one.
To free both hands, he jammed his legs under the steering wheel while they were rolling in a straight line. He quickly pulled out the long magazine and held it and the rifle so Connie could see. “The bullets go in here. You just push them in one after the other. It holds twenty-five. When full, you stick this mag into the housing, like this.” He rocked it in. “Then you pull this handle to load the first round.”
Buck simulated the action. “There is already a round in the chamber, so I don’t have to do it. You have a total of twenty-four shots until we reload.” He’d used one round on the rabbit the previous day, and he was now a little upset that he hadn’t plugged in a replacement cartridge last night. “Finally, you tick off the safety here, then point and shoot.”
After grabbing the wheel with one hand, they swapped weapons again.
“I swear, as soon as we find a town, I’ll get out of your hair.”
He chuckled. “Connie, I hope you didn’t have important plans today, because I think we are going to be stuck in the cab for quite some time. I have to admit that I don’t want to waste my grand efforts at saving our lives, only to risk yours by dumping you at some choke and puke in the middle of nowhere. Me and Mac won’t let you out until we get you somewhere safe.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “But I feel pretty safe right here.”
Staten Island, NY
Garth made it to the end of his block when he ran into trouble. A pair of gray-haired men cradled shotguns in their arms as they stood at the intersection. He’d spent a lot of time carefully hiding the guns he’d put in the trunk so no one would see what he was up to. These guys carried guns right out in the open. On Staten Island.
One elderly man talked to a car coming onto the street, but the other neighbor came up to his window as he rolled it down. “Hey, Garth. Where’s your dad? Never seen you drive without him.”
“Hey, Mr. Silas. Dad is on the road. I’m heading out to get clear of the radiation. What are you doing?”
“We’re watching for looters. Power doesn’t want to stay on, which brings out the bad guys. Last night, people started evacuating when it looked like the storm was heading this way, then more went out this morning at first hint of the nuclear problem. We’re making sure no undesirables come back in.”
“You mean people have been evacuating for hours?” His voice was full of surprise. He had thought the sirens were the start of it.
“Yep. Hard to get everyone off an island this size. It’s going to take time.”
“Has most everyone on this street already left?” he asked.
“No way of knowing. Me and some of the other old-timers are sticking around to make sure the properties don’t get ransacked. A little radiation won’t hurt us.”
“Is it only going to be a little?”
The man winked. “We’ll know in a few hours. Don’t you think about staying. If you got a good ride, and it seems like you do, get the hell out of here. Come back when they tell you it’s clear. We’ll hold down the fort until you get back.”
“Well, thanks. I’ve got to go.”
A large older woman shuffled across a nearby lawn. “Are you going to the city? I need a ride, young man!”
Garth shook his head forcefully. “I’m not. I’m headed south.”
The woman scowled. “You should go where the customer wants.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied. Then, looking up at the man standing close, “Can I go?”
The guy carried a shotgun that was probably eighty or ninety years old, but it didn’t diminish the intimidation factor. The wooden stock was worn and faded almost to gray, but his wrinkled hands gripped it comfortably like he carried it as a friend.
“Sure. Be careful, son.” The man pounded the roof of the cab in a friendly way. “And you might want to turn your service light off. People will think you’re on duty.”
Garth studied the dashbo
ard until he found a button for it.
“Thanks!” he said as he gave the cab some gas.
As an afterthought, he hit the brakes again and leaned out the window. “My dad would want me to thank you for looking out for our house.”
The statement was worth it to see the man’s eyes light up. “My pleasure, Garth. Give your dad my best when you catch up to him.”
“I will.”
When he left the roadblock of old timers, he couldn’t help but feel he was headed into the middle of a gang war. He was positive the next roadblock would not have a friendly neighbor who would wish him well.
Canberra, ACT, Australia
Zandre and Destiny bounced along one of the endless stretches of dusty road in the wilds of Australia. Cattle grazed pastures that sprawled in all directions.
“I’m glad you could make it out here this quick, Dez. You won’t believe the types of animals guys are bringing in.”
“I thought you found a dromornis stirtoni?”
He laughed. “I’ve seen one, yes! This morning I’ve seen other things you won’t believe. They aren’t even listed as game, so it isn’t technically poaching, but…”
Zandre knew her well enough to suspect she might not want to hear about illegal culls.
“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I killed a Tasmanian Tiger yesterday during the fire. I thought it came out of the woods because of the blaze, but I got a text message from a…friend. She suggests time is all messed up.”
He nodded as he steered around a small animal carcass in the road. “Yeah, I would agree with your friend. The Tasmanian Tiger is from the last century. The dromornis stirtoni is from the Pleistocene era. I looked it up. We need your skills at identifying even more ancient creatures.”
She stiffened at the implication. “You haven’t seen dinosaurs, have you?”
“Crikey! No. That would beat all, don’t you think? Then we’d become the hunted. No, nothing quite so old, thank God.”
Destiny sat in contemplative silence for the rest of the ride. She also nodded off for a brief time, immediately dreaming of a fight with a toothy dinosaur. When she lurched back to full awareness, they were on the driveway to the house.
“Place looks nice,” she said to be polite.
His home stood alone in the barren wilderness. The wooden structure was about twenty meters square, with many windows. It had a steeply-sloped shingle roof shaped a little like a pyramid with the top half lopped off. The roof extended about three meters outside each wall, which created a wrap-around porch.
A half-dozen trucks were parked in front of six trailers off to one side of the main house. The decrepit old mobile homes served as lodging for Zandre’s business, and a handful of camo-clad men unloaded an SUV parked at one of them.
“I recognize those guys,” she said, making a sour face. “From the train station.”
“Yeah. After yesterday’s weirdness, one of my customers called his buddies to come in from Melbourne. That’s part of why I called you. I’m going to be swamped with business, which is great, but I can’t be held responsible for what they are hauling in, can I? None of these things are on the bloody permit schedule.”
In her circles, hunters were often regarded as people with two heads and twenty eyes. She was a bit more pragmatic after spending so much time in the bush. Some hunting was necessary, like dingoes and wild boar, to tame the pest populations.
“As long as they have Territory hunting licenses, I think they’d be fine. Of course, I haven’t seen what they are killing yet.”
They both hopped out of the truck and Zandre strode briskly for the side of his house, waving at her to follow.
“Come on, I’ll show you!”
Eleven
Search for Nuclear, Astrophysical, and Kronometric Extremes (SNAKE). Red Mesa, Colorado
“We are definitely broadcasting.”
Faith heard the words come out of Dr. Sunetra Chandrasekhar’s mouth but couldn’t process the meaning.
“Doctor, did you hear me?” Sun continued. “Whatever else this blue beam is doing, it powers a band of energy attached to the outer casing of the collider ring.”
“I knew it!” General Smith added. “Your equipment is broadcasting the blue energy to the world.”
Sun, ever the perfectionist, corrected the general. “Energy has no color, sir. Viewers most likely saw blue caused by haze, pollution, and air particles as the wave passed by. This would explain—”
“Yes, fine,” he replied. “I don’t care about any of that. Can it be turned off?”
Faith finally regained her bearings. “No. We can’t touch it until we know what it does. I know it is here, and I see it passing through the casing of the collider tubing, but we have no idea what is going on inside. Thus, we have no clue what turning it off will do.”
She glanced at the general, sure he was going to order the box turned off by any means necessary, but he remained silent. Instead, a shaggy-haired NORAD scientist spoke up.
“I agree with Dr. Sinclair. If we can establish a baseline of what it is affecting, it could at least give us an indication of the risks of shutting it off. I don’t see how it can be doing much of anything, all things considered, but it would seem prudent to play it safe.” The man smiled at Faith, but she refrained from smiling back. She didn’t even know his name.
The general had been pacing nearby, endlessly talking on the phone, while his group of six science advisors poured over the machine. He put his phone in his pocket before addressing the scientist.
“Dr. Sinclair, do you concur with your colleague? Is the machine on?”
She bit her lip as if willing her mouth not to admit defeat, but she couldn’t fight facts. After a few seconds of restraint, she had to give in. “I can see her laptop, General. There is a trickle of energy, but what’s inside this tubing is not some Star Wars laser, like you might imagine. The total energy output of the operational collider isn’t more powerful than a clap of your hands, and what we’re showing on the casing is less powerful than the flap of a mosquito’s wings.”
“But something is there,” he coaxed.
“Yes.”
General Smith eyed her with his X-ray glare, and while Faith didn’t back down, she didn’t fight it, either. Someone had set up complex equipment right under her nose and run a concurrent experiment that none of them could fathom. She was both furious and embarrassed.
The general looked at the scientists gathered around the box. “In the half-hour since I brought you all here to see this, I’ve lost contact with two important assets in our space program, an early warning dish in northern Canada. Also, a missile frigate in Norfolk ran aground--” He stopped abruptly. “Dammit, I keep forgetting some of you eggheads don’t have the clearance.
“Each minute we delay,” he continued, “more things go wrong out there. You should also know that I’m a four-star general. I normally have lieutenant-generals order majors and colonels to fuck around inside remote basements like this one, so the fact I’m here should tell you how seriously the United States government takes this crisis. I need to know if this fridge-box is responsible. If it is, I’m going to kick it over myself.”
Bob Stafford stepped in front of the box, appearing worried that the general would make good on his threat. “Sir, we’ve only just found this. We need time to study it. It has to be going somewhere, right? We can use our instruments to guess that location. If we get a few more clues, perhaps we’ll know if it’s safe to turn it off.”
“Your own man agrees,” Faith added.
“I don’t see how it could be dangerous. Dr. Sinclair has admitted that the energy involved is less than a butterfly’s wings or whatever.” General Smith stepped to Bob’s side like he was letting the scientist know he could go around him if he desired.
“Think of it like a firehose with a microscopic nozzle,” Bob replied. “The amounts of energy are very small, but when they build up enough speed and collide with opposing forces, the h
eat generated can be hotter than the center of the sun.”
Faith didn’t say it, but Bob was leading the general away by talking about separate scientific extremes as if they were the same. The heat sounded impressive, but it was so minute as to be practically invisible. That was why they needed five-story-tall sensors to detect and record the sub-atomic impacts. Bob wanted the general to use caution, as did she. It was a rare alignment of their motivations.
One of the general’s scientists looked up from a pile of equipment. “Sir, we think we know where it goes.”
General Smith zeroed in on the man.
“Where?” he demanded.
“Sir, I took a picture of the beam coming out of the box relative to the floor and sent it to my peers at MIT. They used the SNAKE construction survey to assign a point on the Earth representing this location. From there, they figured out the angle of descent and created a curve of possible endpoints.” The man pushed his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“You know where this light is coming from?”
The man seemed uncertain. “Well, maybe, but I’m having them re-check it for me. I brought it up because I didn’t want the SNAKE team to duplicate my efforts.”
“Don’t tease me, son. Show me what you’ve got.”
The young scientist fiddled with his glasses again. “The margin of error is huge, so we have to wait for better data and—”
The general stopped him. “The next words out of your mouth better be the location. Where is this light going?”
“MIT’s best guess is Geneva. In Switzerland.”
“That’s not possible!” Faith exclaimed.
General Smith looked right at her. “Do you have any idea what is in Geneva, Switzerland?”
Yes, sir, I do. It blew up twenty-four hours ago.
Highway 395, California
“Break 19, highway 395. Anyone hear this?” Buck called into the CB.
End Days Series Box Set [Books 1-4] Page 33