by Ellis, Tara
Patty took a deep breath and sat back down heavily in her chair. There was obviously no point to denying it and arguing with Gary would get her nowhere. “Gary, you can’t expect me to share every single private conversation I have with you and the council. Just because something might have been discussed, doesn’t mean that any sort of a decision was made. There’s a huge difference. You have to appreciate that. I didn’t bring up the potential need to eventually resort to stronger tactics when it comes to food, because I’m hoping it’s never an issue. I think it would be premature to even place that topic on the table for debate. It’s something that could divide us when it’s a critical time for us to work together.”
Gary nodded slowly while grimacing at the same time. “Good recovery, Patty, and I even agree with you. Except that still doesn’t explain the dissemination of false information that Mercy is still actively fighting an outbreak. Your attempt to effectively cut us off from the military also prevents us from potentially having access to any possible aid.”
Patty paled. “We received reports of the military taking over towns, Gary. Of people…farmers being killed for their horses.”
“So without consulting the council or community leaders, you took it upon yourself to seclude Mercy.” Gary stood. “Funny how you use the excuse of the military’s strong-arm tactics, when it would appear those are the very actions you yourself are considering carrying out against your own people.”
Patty tried to object, but the fight was gone from her so Gary easily cut her off. “There are those of us who won’t stand for it.” Going to the door, he pulled it open but turned back to issue one last parting shot. “Remember that I offered you this warning.”
Staring numbly at the papers that only moments before had filled her with hope, Patty desperately tried to justify her actions to herself. Was Gary right? That was her fear, what had kept her up for half the previous night. They had made a decision for the whole town. Herself, Caleb, and Sheriff Waters. It was a gamble, and as mayor, she’d felt it was up to her to make a quick call, one she didn’t think the council and community leaders would have made. That was her obligation and prerogative as mayor…wasn’t it?
A cross between a sob and groan escaped Patty as she placed her head in her hands. She’d have to come clean to the council at their next meeting and in doing so, give them the opportunity to overturn the decision, if that were even possible. According the Caleb, the past twenty-four hours proved to be full of even more silence on the radio.
Caleb. She needed to talk to her husband. To be reassured and comforted, the two things he was best at. She rose wearily and headed for the murky upstairs hallway. She’d never wanted the title of mayor, or the responsibility that came with it. Caleb should be mayor, or maybe Sheriff Waters. Not her.
The trek down the two flights of stairs to the basement seemed so much longer than usual, and Patty was winded by the time she reached the underground space. A nap was what she needed, but there was too much work to be done. She would need to go out to the courtyard in a few minutes to join the workforce for the spring. Patty might not be able to dig very effectively or haul heavy stuff around, but she could manage driving the wagon, deliver and help unload the soil for the new community garden, and then help deliver the fresh water once they had it flowing.
Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dark, Patty edged farther into the large, open space of the basement. The supplies she’d primarily sorted the first two days were still neatly organized into rows of goods, dimly illuminated by an assortment of battery- and solar-operated lights on the floor. They created a pathway through the supplies, and led to where Caleb had his radio station set up in the back.
Patty knew calling out a greeting to her husband was a futile act, since he always wore his headphones when listening and transmitting. For this reason, her arrival was unannounced and her presence was as much of a shock to the man seated in her husband’s chair as his being there was to her. He turned around with his hand poised over a notebook that was full of scribbled words.
“Bishop!” Patty exclaimed, noting how he calmly turned the notepad over. “What are you doing here?”
Bishop smiled sheepishly while removing the headphones. “Hey, Patty. Do you know where Caleb is? I was hoping he could give me a quick run-down on the radio before we had to leave.” He looked around briefly and then shrugged. “I figured he’d be down here.”
Patty stepped back and moved aside as Bishop stood and walked past, still frowning at him. “He must already be outside.”
Nodding, Bishop pointed toward the stairs. “Well, we better go find him. Time to get that spring producing.”
“Right,” Patty muttered. She began to follow Bishop, then paused, looking back at the desk.
The notepad was gone.
Chapter 23
CHLOE
Natural Spring Site, Mercy, Montana
“Geeze, Chlo, I’m burning again.”
Chloe barely noticed the irritating nickname Crissy insisted on using, as she stared at her friend’s red arms. Crissy was right. The girl’s thin arms were burned again. They had finally recently faded to a nice tan after more than a week of healing from the intense burns they all suffered while in the mountains after the flash.
“That sucks,” Chloe said while looking at her own arms. It appeared that her darker complexion was still enough to prevent her from burning outright, but they were definitely getting hot. More so than she’d expect.
It was late June, although Chloe wasn’t positive what day of the month it was. It would have been normal for temperatures to be in the nineties where they were, like it had been on their hike, but the thermometer at the courthouse before they left that morning was registering barely eighty, in spite of the sun being out in full.
“Whaddya think?” Trevor asked, comparing his paler arms to the girls. “I put some SPF 100 on this morning, so I’m still okay. “Kind of weird though, right, Chlo?”
“Uh-uh,” Chloe retorted, pointing a finger at the younger teen. “I might let Crissy get away with it, but not you, Trev.”
“Sure,” Trevor replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, Chloe. But, seriously. Don’t you think the weather is off, and the sun is, like…stronger than it should be, even though it’s not that hot?”
“It’s the UV rays,” Bishop offered as he walked up. His arms were full of shovels and picks and he was on his way down to where his crew was working on digging out and making the filtration system. Chloe had been happy with her assignment to oversee digging the holding pond, as they were calling it, around the source of the spring.
“Ultraviolet rays?” Trevor asked.
Bishop nodded and then handed one of the shovels to Trevor. “I’m stealing Trevor,” he said to Chloe. “I need one more set of hands.”
Trevor took the shovel and shrugged at Chloe. “Sure. But about the UV rays,” he pressed, turning back to Bishop. “That’s because of the gamma-ray?”
“The gamma-ray burst likely destroyed a good chunk of the ozone layer,” Bishop explained. “In doing so, it not only converted certain gases into smog-forming compounds, thereby lowering the temperature, it’s also allowing more UV to reach the surface of the Earth.”
“Is that what’s causing the dead trees and stuff?” Chloe asked, pointing out the brown foliage along the tops of the evergreens that covered the mountainside above them. She’d noticed that it was increasing over the past week, and the level of die-off was working its way lower on the trees affected.
“I think that’s a logical assumption,” Bishop agreed. “Go check in with Fire Chief Martinez,” he continued, addressing Trevor. “He’ll let you know what needs to be done. I need to stay back here for a bit and make sure everything is going to line up when we’re done.”
“I’m going to go eat some lunch,” Crissy said while rubbing at her arms. “And find some sunscreen.”
“Bishop,” Chloe said when the older man began to walk away
. He stopped and looked back at her questioningly. “Do you have a minute?”
“I always have time for you,” he replied. Lowering one of the shovels, he leaned against it and tipped his head toward her. “What’s on your mind?”
Chloe should have been happy with his response, but instead was put on guard. Bishop knew full well that he’d been avoiding her and tap-dancing around her since his return. “You’ve been avoiding me.” Chloe decided to be blunt. Nothing else tended to work that well for her, anyway.
Bishop chuckled and kicked at a rock near his foot. “I’d say avoiding is a strong word. Pretty hard to do, too, when you’re living in the same house.”
“Then what would you call it?” Chloe asked, her frustration growing. He was still doing it! Trying to disarm her and divert the line of question by making a joke of it.
“Look, I told you that Hicks wasn’t at the resort, and that’s the truth.” Bishop’s brows drew together and he leaned closer to Chloe for emphasis. “I just figured I’d spare you the details since you’ve already been through so much. I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Well, it matters,” Chloe answered, some of the heat fading from both her face and voice. “I want to know everything you found out, and I’d also like to know how you pulled those ninja moves on Jason and his friends.”
Bishop pushed up from the shovel and adopted the teacher stance that Chloe had become accustomed to when he was about to go into some long dissertation. “When I got to the resort Hicks and the boys were supposed to be at, I found it burned to the ground.”
Chloe sucked in some air and her eyes widened.
“No,” Bishop said quickly, putting up a hand. “I walked through and didn’t find any sign of bodies or their gear. Jason told me they found it still smoldering, and that no one was there. It obviously burned as a result of some surge caused by the flashpoint.
“Anyway, Jason claimed that he met up with his friends shortly after and decided to stick with them when Hicks made the call to go back to the Trek office, instead of Mercy.”
“Why would he do that?” Chloe asked, her confusion growing.
“I don’t know,” Bishop answered. “Best I can figure, after the letdown of not having any shelter, food, or replenished supplies, Hicks might have been frustrated and done with the unknown. While the Trek Thru Trouble headquarters would have been a little farther than Mercy, Hicks was more familiar with the journey in that direction. There would have also been more water available, and unless the office was looted or burned down, it would have plenty of supplies and facilities for them, where there were no guarantees with Mercy.”
“Do you believe Jason?” Chloe thought she already knew the answer.
Bishop pursed his lips. “No. Jason isn’t someone I trust, but that isn’t necessarily what’s in question here. The better question is: do I think Hicks would choose to go to the headquarters instead of trying to reach Mercy? The answer to that is possibly.”
“How far is it from here?”
Bishop glanced at Chloe and then back down at his boots. “Over a hundred miles.”
Chloe groaned and then shook her head. She understood then why Bishop hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Setting out on a journey that would take a good six days roundtrip on horseback wasn’t something he could do. At least, not right away. They needed him too much in Mercy. Chloe could imagine how frustrating that was, and how torn Bishop must have been between helping the town and looking for his friend and the rest of the kids he was responsible for.
“As far as my disarming that guy up at the lake…”
Chloe looked at Bishop then, intrigued by the humor in his voice. “Yeah? Something you learned in engineering school?” Instead of the mirth she expected to see in his eyes, there was a hardness that surprised her.
“Some things are better left alone.” Yanking the shovel out of the ground, he turned without any further explanation and walked away.
Confused, Chloe stared at his retreating back for several heartbeats before huffing once and looking away. What bothered her the most was that Bishop knew her well enough to realize she’d never accept that as an answer. The conversation was far from over.
The wind shifted then, and with it a cool gust of air blew up through the valley, swirling the prematurely brown leaves that were scattered around the clearing. It reminded Chloe of the bats and she turned her attention to the small mineshaft opening in the sheer, rock wall on the opposite side of the field. When she’d mentioned the encounter to Bishop, he had gone and inspected the area around it personally to ensure there wasn’t any sign of guano outside the shaft, what he called the bat droppings. Once he was satisfied the bats didn’t pose any threat to their clean water, he’d dismissed them, but Chloe hadn’t forgotten.
Another gust of wind tugged at her short hair and made her shiver, the sudden drop in temperature matching the way she felt inside. Chloe couldn’t help but remember the parting words from Ripley, before she left for Helena, that things weren’t what they seemed.
Above the southern rim of the valley, dark, ominous clouds were building, the storm pushed towards them by the changing winds. A crack of thunder echoed in the distance, its sound hollow and odd. It was unlike any thunder Chloe had heard and the chill in her stomach deepened, expanding to her chest. As she watched, the darkest section of clouds lit with an ominous, sickly orange color, followed by a flash of intense bluish-white light. Much like the trees, the bats, and everything else that was slightly off, the storm itself seemed to be a sign of looming danger.
Steeling herself against the unknown, Chloe purposefully turned her back on the boiling clouds and chose to focus on the work at hand. They’d have to rush if they had any hope of beating the storm that was brewing.
Chapter 24
JAMES
Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
James could still hear the clamor of the heavy metal door closing behind him, though he knew it was his imagination. He’d passed through the second of two blast doors over ten minutes before and was currently deep within the bowels of the Cheyenne Mountain base.
“She’s something else, huh, sir?” the man escorting James said with pride. He was a small man with a quick step and way too much vigor.
“Like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” James lied. He was already having flashbacks to Mount Weather. While that journey through the rocky corridors had been in the dark, it was still the same general design. The air had the same weight to it, and the voices the same muffled, far-away sound, like it was all coming from over a much farther distance than it actually was.
Master Sergeant Campbell paused for a moment, leaning against the cool granite wall of the tunnel.
“Sergeant? Are you all right?”
James was embarrassed by the concern he saw on the private’s face and it was enough to compel the sergeant to pull himself together. Standing tall, he tugged at his uniform. “Yes, Private. I haven’t slept much in the past week and I’d like to get this meeting over with.”
The gentle prod to get moving with less chatter was effective. The younger man gave a stiff salute before spinning on his heel and heading out at a quicker pace. His shoes produced quite a clatter and James winced when his own step added to the tempo beat out against the rock. He hadn’t lied, he really was suffering from a lack of sleep. Six days of non-stop hops on the Huey would be enough to just about break any man. He would have caught some time in the rack before reaching the mountain, except that General Montgomery required all of his reports to be hand-written. James had already completed the Mount Weather report, but he wanted to be sure and give a complete and accurate run-down on Corporal Dillinger and FEMA Shelter M3, so he’d spent the whole flight writing it.
James shook his head as they turned down yet another tunnel. He was already lost in the labyrinth of passageways. His reports on the shelters would have been sufficient, but the hand-off of the survivors li
st required a face-to-face with the man himself.
Four-star General Montgomery already had a reputation as a hardcore career soldier before the flashpoint, though James had never met him. In the less than two weeks since the event, his reputation had expanded into legendary proportions. The Man in the Mountain was what he was being called in unofficial conversations. Montgomery’s eccentricities were rumored to range from ordering the execution of unarmed civilians, to demanding that all communication be done by hand, even though there was a working intranet and computers in the mountain.
James knew better than to put much stock in the stories. There were always several sides to them. However, he was curious about the claim that General Montgomery hadn’t left the underground bunker in over a week. The base itself actually incorporated quite a lot of real-estate topside, which James had already experienced. His reports on the shelters were taken upon his arrival, and he was then treated to a robust dinner and working bathrooms, all above ground. Why, if the general had the opportunity to get some fresh air and sunlight, would he not take it?
That oddity was what concerned James the most. It couldn’t be explained by a decision made under duress, or tactics that could be supported by sound reasoning. It was simply…abnormal.
“How much farther?” James couldn’t help but ask, when the private passed another one of the underground buildings without stopping.
“Almost there, sir.”
Grunting at the generic answer, James forced himself to ignore the solid rock looming overhead. Thinking about being under a couple thousand feet of granite wouldn’t help with his mild claustrophobia. Home. He’d think about home, instead.
James and his recon unit had been on a mission at the Ellsworth Air Force Base in South Dakota when the flashpoint hit. Home was in southern California, at the coveted Camp Pendleton. His wife and two-year-old daughter were also there. He was thankful they’d been spared most of the gamma-ray burst effects that far west.