Flashpoint (Book 3): Fallout

by Ellis, Tara

  Sam took a shuddering breath that was punctuated by a wheeze, and it was more than Danny could stand. Dropping the dice in her hand, she stomped to the tent entrance and yanked one flap aside, startling the man standing outside. “Where’s the medic?” she demanded, ignoring his perturbed look.

  “You’ve already been told, he’ll come when he can. He isn’t available.”

  Danny took a deliberate step outside the confines of the quarantine and squared off with the soldier. “Look, we didn’t come here for your macaroni and cheese and water. My friend needs help. Some pretty simple medical care that won’t take much time. If you show me to your medical supplies, I can take care of him myself!”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. I’m going to have to ask you to go back inside.” The soldier made a point of placing his hand on the butt of his weapon. “Now.”

  “You must be Danny.”

  Danny turned to face a tall man walking towards them. He was also wearing fatigues, but wasn’t armed. Instead, he had a medical bag and reached out a hand as he approached. “I’m Specialist Pratt, a combat medic assigned to FEMA Shelter M3. You can call me Peter.”

  Danny took his hand, noting that he didn’t seem concerned about the possibility of her being infectious. He held on a little too long and gave her an extra smile before entering the tent. She followed him inside with mixed feelings.

  “I was already filled in on his condition,” Peter said without acknowledging Tom or Ethan. Kneeling down next to Sam, he withdrew his stethoscope and listened to his lungs for all of ten seconds before standing again. “Here.” Moving up next to Danny, he handed her an inhaler. “You’re an EMT or something, right? You know what to do with this?”

  Danny bristled. “I’m a paramedic, which is about two thousand more hours of training than an EMT, but close enough.” She took the inhaler and confirmed it was albuterol. “Thank you for this. And yes, I know how to use it. I was hoping you might have some prednisone?”

  Peter appeared amused by her response and slowly looked her over before removing a small bottle of pills from his bag. “I’ve got some steroids, but it’s a commodity that’s in high demand.” He held the bottle out but didn’t release it when she took hold of it. “I could use someone with your…talents.”

  Tom had been sitting at the table casually, and suddenly stood with enough force to knock his chair over. Danny gave him a warning look and was surprised to see his hands balled into fists at his sides. She was concerned of what he might do if she didn’t immediately defuse the situation herself.

  “Sure, Peter,” she said pleasantly, her fingers brushing the medic’s as he released the bottle. “When we’re released from quarantine, I’d be happy to help you with any…medical issues.”

  Chuckling, Specialist Pratt threw Danny a sideways salute, and she was moving toward Sam before he’d even made it back outside.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Sam gasped as she handed him the inhaler.

  “Shut up, Sam, and take a couple of puffs.” Danny uncapped the prednisone bottle and shook four pills out into his hand. “And take these. You should be starting to feel better by the morning. If not, we’ll need to start you on some antibiotics, too.”

  “That guy was a jerk,” Ethan commented when Danny joined them back at the table. Tom had righted his chair and was sitting again, silently staring at her.

  “I can handle him,” Danny said to them all. “I’ve dealt with his kind before.”

  Tom scooped the dice up and shook them in the palm of his hand. He glanced at Ethan and then back at her, his gray eyes intense with an anguish she was beginning to understand. “Watch out for him, Danny.”

  Danny didn’t want to admit it, but the heavy dread in the pit of her stomach warned her that Tom might have been right all along. They were in trouble.

  Chapter 10

  CARTER

  Near Red Oak, Iowa

  Seventeen-year-old Carter Jackson was lying under a willow tree on a corner of his parents’ farm, when he heard the helicopter pass overhead. He must have fallen asleep there, where he’d collapsed in the middle of the night. The sun was out, signaling the start to yet another miserable day. Carter’s eyes followed the aircraft, yet he didn’t move. He was too weak to run out and attempt to flag them down.

  Not that there was any point to doing it.

  Carter grunted as he rolled over the rest of the way onto his back so he could watch the huge bug-like aircraft fade from view. It was the first sign of anything mechanical since the light in the sky killed everyone. It was the only sign of human life, aside from himself, that he’d encountered in two days.

  Every person he knew or cared about was dead. Carter was surprised when a tear trailed down the side of his temple and soaked into his thick, dark hair. He didn’t think he had enough fluid left in him. He dragged a dirty hand up to brush at the dampness, his fingers curling into the overgrown strands. His mom had always bragged about how handsome he was, and that Carter had the same hair as his grandpa. He couldn’t remember his grandfather, since he’d died when he was only four.

  Turning his head slightly to the right, Carter could see his Grandpa Jackson’s headstone. It was the largest in the small family cemetery. He used to think that having it on their property was morbid, but over the past week Carter came to appreciate the small plot of land more than anything else. Otherwise, what would he have done with the bodies of his grandmother, little sister, his mom, and his dad?

  A sob racked his frail body, which turned into a painful cough. It ended like it always did, with a grisly clot of blood landing on the ground with a sickening wet sound. It was how everyone else had been, in the hours before they’d died.

  Carter raised his hands up and held them weakly over his face. The shade of the willow tree wasn’t solid, and sunlight filtered through, dappling the ground around him and his hands with dancing shadows. There was dry and fresh blood caked onto his palms, and dirt was forever stuck under his nails. He hadn’t bathed in more than three days. Not even a dip in the creek. It took too much energy.

  The four fresh graves, each shallower than the one before it, were topped with crude crosses made from branches. Carter wished he’d paid more attention in church, so he would have been able to say a proper prayer. As it was, the dead had to settle with a simple send-off.

  His dad said it was radiation poisoning that had done it to them. Some strange kind that came from space. At least, that was what was being said around Red Oak the first week after the event that started it all.

  They began getting sick by the second day. Grandma went first. She was fast, on account of her heart. She’d already had two heart attacks in the past ten years, each time saying she was going to see Grandpa. Ten days ago, she finally did.

  Carter scoffed at the platitude that it would all be okay, since they’d all be together again soon. After what he’d witnessed unfold in his house, he wanted nothing more than to believe it was all leading to something better. That he really would see his family again. That his girlfriend Sara wasn’t gone forever, but only from this simple, quick life that could be snuffed out so easily.

  “What sort of God would do this?” Carter gasped, choking on the blood slowly pooling in the back of his throat. He could feel it running down from his nose, and seeping from his gums, but he didn’t care anymore. There wasn’t anyone left.

  Carter figured his dad would have lasted longer. He should have. It should have been his father burying his mom and his little sister. Burying him. Instead, Carter ended up rolling his body from the bed and into an old, rusted wheelbarrow after he died. Then, the hole hadn’t been big enough. Carter cringed, thinking of how he had to force his father’s hands and feet into the pit. He simply didn’t have the strength left to dig it out any deeper.

  The wheelbarrow was still in the graveyard, lying sideways next to the fresh dirt of his dad’s grave. There might have been something sticking up out of the ground near it, but Carter chose
not to look too closely.

  The sound of the helicopter faded away, leaving behind it the horrible, deafening silence that had come to plague the teen. All of the animals were dead. No birds sang. No crickets chirped or bees hummed.

  Silence.

  Blinking slowly, Carter lowered his hands and continued to stare up at the swaying branches of the willow. It had always been a favorite spot of his. He and Sara had kissed under it for the first time after the homecoming game back in October. He was the quarterback for their local football team. He was going places, the people of Red Oak would always say in passing.

  “I’m going places,” Carter whispered, his parched lips further cracking from the subtle movement.

  A gentle breeze blew through the field, shaking the long, narrow leaves of the tree and ruffling Carter’s thick, black hair.

  Closing his eyes, Carter’s last thought was of a long-forgotten memory of a little boy sitting on his grandfather’s lap. It was a good time full of family and love. His grandfather was smiling at him, and his eyes reminded him of his father. Reaching out, Carter tried to hold on, but his grandpa was moving away from him, the man with the same dark hair…until there was nothing.

  Chapter 11

  PATTY

  Mercy Cemetery, Mercy, Montana

  Fifteen fresh graves. It had taken most of the night to dig them, and Patty stayed to oversee it all. The families and loved ones had already been through enough. The least they could do was give them a proper burial.

  Melissa at first insisted that the bodies be burned, in order to ensure the bacteria didn’t spread. However, when it came time to plan the mass grave/outdoor cremation since they didn’t have a morgue or crematorium, no one had the stomach to do it. Instead, they took special precautions handling the dead and rushed to get them in the ground as fast and as deep as possible.

  “That’s it,” Fire Chief Martinez huffed, wiping the dirt from his hands on his already filthy jeans. He shook his head and squinted up at the sun just beginning to break over the eastern mountain range. “People will be coming soon, Patty. You should get cleaned up.”

  Patty stared numbly at her own hands, the fresh dirt under her nails and a couple of scratches from roots unseen in the dark holes. They’d worked by candlelight mostly, and it was one of the longest nights of her life. One she would never forget. That was okay, because as the mayor of Mercy, she shouldn’t. Patty owed it to the children and friends who had died under her watch.

  “Patty?”

  Caleb was talking to her, and she blinked slowly before turning to acknowledge him. He was holding a steaming cup of what she assumed was coffee, and she loved him all the more for it. “I’m okay,” she whispered, taking the mug. “I’ll be okay eventually.”

  Caleb nodded silently and stared at her while she took a sip, closing her eyes as the hot liquid burned on its way down. “How much time do you think we have?” she asked, her eyes still shut.

  “Not much.” Caleb took her free hand and gave it a squeeze. “We said sunrise, so folks will be on their way here already.”

  “Is the pastor here?” She opened her eyes then and looked out at the small cemetery, which was located on the far northern end of the town. She understood why Pastor White hadn’t helped with the burial. He was over eighty and still struggling to recover from the radiation exposure.

  “Sheriff Waters went to get him about an hour ago. They should be here any minute now.” Caleb led Patty over to the wagon parked on the narrow gravel road that wound its way through the graveyard. It was first used to haul the carefully wrapped bodies. After being bleached, it was then stacked with used tools and supplies, as well as water and some towels. “Here,” he offered her two towels, one damp and the other dry.

  The old wooden wagon was an irony in itself. Patty really looked at it for the first time as she stood there, wiping the evidence of their iniquities from her face. It used to sit at the entrance to Mercy, with the town sign leaning up against it.

  Originally used in the mines scattered through the mountains around the valley, it was in surprisingly good shape and only required some minor maintenance before hitching it up to a team. The harnesses for the horses was the greater battle, and they were fortunate to have some old-timers around who still knew how to manage it.

  “Lookout one to base.”

  Patty was startled by Tane Latu’s voice coming from Caleb’s pocket and she watched as he pulled out one of the handheld radios and spoke into it. “This is base.”

  “I’ve spotted two riders approaching the south entrance, they’re probably our Pony Express.” Tane’s voice was scratchy as if he was speaking through a very long, metal tunnel, though he was still easy to understand.

  “Copy,” Caleb answered, and then smiled at Patty.

  “Lookout one?” Patty asked, raising her eyebrows. “How far away is Tane?”

  “He’s beyond the checkpoint, near the entrance to the valley,” Caleb explained. “Close to where he set up the first repeater last night.”

  Patty’s eyes widened. “The repeater is working?” When Caleb nodded, a feeling of hope swelled in her chest. Having instant communication throughout the valley was a major achievement and would make life much easier. Something none of them took for granted anymore.

  “There’s some obvious atmospheric interference going on,” Caleb explained, gesturing to the intense sunrise spreading out over them. “But it still beats a telegraph system.”

  Patty craned her neck to take in the vibrant streaks of dark orange and pink feathering out from the sun. While beautiful, it was also disturbing. Both the sunsets and sunrises were becoming more spectacular with each passing day. The only other time Patty had seen anything remotely like it was a few years ago, during a horrible wildfire season. Except for now, although there were clearly some big fires still burning in nearby regions, there wasn’t enough smoke on the horizons to account for it. Much like the increasing northern lights, it appeared to be tied into the flashpoint and some sort of continuing phenomenon.

  “What do your government contacts have to say about it?” she asked her husband, knowing that he was in almost daily communication with one military station or another.

  Caleb placed his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. “Not much. They’ve gotten more withdrawn over the past few days and I’m lucky just to get an acknowledgement.”

  “We were right not to count on them to come swooping in to save the day, then,” Patty mused, wiping at her hands with more vigor. She could see some horses approaching and needed to finish getting cleaned up.

  “You and I both know that’s not going to happen.” Caleb rubbed at his jaw as he watched the riders approaching. They’d passed the graves and were headed towards them. “Based on what’s happening in Helena, and from what I’ve gotten from non-military contacts, it’s going to be months, maybe even years, before there’s any sort of real recovery underway. Even for our military, the simple act of moving around to help those of us left alive is a massive undertaking that will take time.”

  Patty knew he was right. In eleven days, they’d already suffered some major setbacks and they needed to get a better handle on their food and water supply. Bishop would be out of quarantine that afternoon and she was meeting with both him and Sandy. She knew her friend was working hard to keep her cattle healthy with Tom still missing, but they were going to have to start slaughtering some cows to keep everyone fed. It wasn’t a discussion she was looking forward to.

  “It’s the express riders,” Caleb muttered, causing Patty to focus on the two horses headed their way. “Why are they riding out here so hot and heavy?”

  The first of the riders kicked up dust as he reined in his mount. “Mayor Patty!” the young man blurted, not waiting to be acknowledged. “We wanted to tell you personally what we found out.”

  The second rider, a middle-aged woman, was much calmer and took the time to slide out of the saddle and brush off her jeans before addressing the mayor.
“Sorry if we’re interrupting something,” the woman offered, jerking her head toward the graves. “The guys at the gate told us you’d be here, but they didn’t say anything about a funeral.”

  Patty realized that the two had left prior to the deaths and closed her eyes briefly. “We had a serious outbreak while you were gone,” she explained. “Why don’t you tell me your news first, and then I’ll tell you what’s happened.”

  Sheriff Waters approached the group and tipped his hat at Patty. “Pastor’s here, Mayor. “Got some news for us?” he asked, turning to the express riders.

  “Military’s moving a bunch of troops south of Helena,” the young man squawked, still on his horse. “People seen ’em traveling in groups and word is that they’re making some sort of FEMA camp.”

  Patty was initially excited by the report, although the woman standing in front of her seemed anything but happy about it. “What’s the catch?” she asked suspiciously, glancing back and forth between the two riders. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “We thought so too, at first,” the woman agreed, her face grim. “But then we ran into some people on our way back who’d come from the south. Said the soldiers were stopping at farms along the way and taking whatever they wanted, including horses. Even shot and killed someone who tried to stop them. Another guy we talked to last night said they took over the whole town of Monida. It’s a FEMA camp now.”

  Sheriff Waters jutted his chin toward Caleb. “You hear any chatter about this?”

  Caleb shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up. “Of course not! That’s not the sort of information I’d keep to myself. I was just telling Patty, though, that my military contacts have become much less talkative lately. I figured it was due to there not being anything to report, but maybe it’s a deliberate attempt to keep us out of the communication loop. We know that they declared martial law in the first few days, so it would be within their legal right to requisition supplies as needed.”