“Ok, that makes sense.” Patrick said with an impatient nod. “You mentioned range – what kind of range do you have to listen to for a possible signal?
Joe pouted, slightly perturbed. He was enjoying his own lecture. After a moment, he continued. “There are bands that are reserved for certain things. Like I mentioned, your car radio goes from 88 to 108. Any of the frequencies can be used, but generally speaking you will find things like air traffic anywhere between 108 and 140. Most private ham operators will broadcast from the 144 to 148 range, while higher bands will have law enforcement, weather, military etcetera. The top of the range is 174. A couple of things that she will be looking for is MARS and ARES.”
“MARS stands for Military Auxiliary Radio System, and ARES stands for Amateur Radio Emergency Service.” He continued before Patrick could ask.
“Ok. So ... That sounds like a daunting task, scanning all those frequencies one at a time.”
“Yep. And I haven’t even told you about the lower frequencies!” Joe frowned as he tried to recall. “I think you can find the National Guard emergency communications around 35, its 50 for the Red Cross, and 52 has ham radio operators in FM, on a six-meter band.”
Patrick raised his hands. “Whoa. Too much information.” He glanced at Emily as she continued her search. “Can’t she just turn the dial until she picks something up?”
“She could, but then there would be a big chance that she would miss signals.” Joe shook his head disapprovingly. “Besides, it’s not like everybody is broadcasting all the time. That’s why she is initiating contact and allowing time for a response.”
“and I guess this ‘CQ’ is a greeting of some kind?”
“CQ comes from Morse code. It basically stands for ‘calling all stations’. Romeo Echo November One is the callsign we agreed on.” Joe smiled slyly “That stands for REN, which is this school!” He stated with a pleased expression.
So that must have been your idea. What, you want a medal for it?
Joe continued, ignorant of Patrick’s slight. “Then she states: ‘Listening’. Well that’s probably self-explanatory. I would have used ‘Read’ though, which is short for do you read me.”
It looked like Joe was really getting into his lecture. Patrick had no interest in learning any more though. “So, this is going to take a while.” Patrick said, changing the subject.
“Erm... Yeah. It’ll take a bit.”
Just then Patrick felt a small but sharp flash of pain between his eyes. Joe noticed something was off and frowned suspiciously. Patrick changed his grimace of pain to one of displeasure.
“Alright. Well, I think I’ll just take the wife and head off to bed. Let us know if you hear anything?” Patrick turned and walked away before the bristling big man could think of a reply.
“Let’s go, baby.” He said to Rosa and pulled her away. “This is gonna take a while.”
He firmly pulled Rosa with him out the door. She only resisted marginally.
“What’s the rush, Patrick?”
He regarded her as they walked towards their room. “Oh no rush, baby. I just figured while all these folks are busy ...” He smiled his most winning, mischievous grin.
“Really?” Rosa said. “Now?”
“Yeah, why not? It’s been a few days baby. I got needs – you know that!”
Rosa allowed herself to be led along. The couple walked into their room and Rosa closed the door behind them. She stopped and turned.
“Can we ... just go to sleep? I’m not really in the mood.” She knew it was a mistake as soon as she’d said it. Patrick frowned. He was silent as he stepped up close to her. Rosa flinched when he spoke next.
“Well I am in the mood.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her into him.
“Nothing has changed, girl.” He whispered to the trembling Rosa. His eyes shooting daggers. “I rescued you from that junk yard.” He drew her closer still. “You need to show me some appreciation. Besides, I’ve got a headache and sex usually fixes that.”
Rosa lowered her face and nodded demurely. “Ok Patrick. Whatever you want.”
Patrick lowered his hand to Rosa’s ass and gave it a hard squeeze.
“That’s right. Whatever I want.”
Chapter Forty-one
“Let us know if you get a hit.” Rachel left, her kids in tow. “We’ll be in the cafeteria.”
The media room had emptied out over the course of the evening, with some people heading to the cafeteria while others retired to bed. Sticking around the radio room had quickly become boring to the uninitiated.
Only Jack, Joe and Emily were left hovering around the radio, while John and Craig were speaking in hushed tones in the far corner. The radio operators had given up on using their greeting and resorted to using pulses, which involved switching the transmitter off and on a few times. It created audible pulses to anybody that might be listening.
Joe had been moving up and down the frequencies, pausing at each one to send a few pulses. If there was no response he would move to the next frequency. It was a tedious task.
Then he got a hit.
“Is anybody there?”
Joe frowned at the female voice.
“Jack. Go tell the folks in the cafeteria.” Jack shot out of his seat.
“This is Romeo Echo November. Do you read me? Over”
“Hello! Yes! I read you! Is this the army? Oh my god, it’s good to hear somebody! ... Oh, um. Over.”
“Calm down. My name is Joe. We’re not the army. Who am I speaking with? Over”
Jack had already returned. Others started filing into the media room a few seconds later. They were excited and had to be shushed by Joe.
“My name is Michelle Van Der Laar! I’m here with four other people. We’re in Willemtown. Over.” Willemtown was a small town, about an hour west of the city.
“Hi Michelle. We’re located” –he hesitated for the slightest moment before continuing– “in the city. How are you guys holding up? Over.”
Jack and Emily frowned at Joe, wondering why he didn’t just tell Michelle where they were. In the background they heard somebody else grumble about it.
“Why is he being so paranoid?” Somebody said but was quickly shushed as the radio squawked again.
“We’re in trouble. We holed up in a ranch house near the edge of town. Billy McAdam’s place. Billy is... Well, Billy is gone. But we all knew he was one of those ‘preppers’, so we headed over here. When we were driving here, we saw Billy on the side of the road. He was one of them... Anyway, we holed up in here, but there’s about a dozen of those things out there. We’re hiding in the basement, hoping they go away soon. We don’t have food or water, although I think there is some upstairs. Anyway, we will need assistance to get out of here! We have an elderly couple with us, and one child – “
Joe and the rest could hear some noise in the background as the ‘child’ protested. They could clearly hear Michelle tell the kid that ‘A fourteen-year-old is still a child!’ and ‘That’s enough! Now shush, I’m on the radio with these folks!’ before she continued.
“What was I saying? Oh yeah, we have an elderly couple, a child, and two women. We’re stuck in here. We left the guns in the truck. Damnit! All we got is one sidearm with four bullets. If those things get in... Well, I’m not sure how we’ll be able to defend ourselves!” There was radio silence for a couple of seconds, then: “Over. Sorry.”
“Michelle, you guys should definitely stay as quiet as possible and avoid moving around. Those things are attracted to movement and sound.”
Joe released the mike key and turned to Emily, shaking his head. “What do I do?”
“Ask them for their actual address.” She replied.
“Michelle, can you give us your address? Over.”
“We’re on County Line, I know that. Um, not sure what the address is though. Hold on. We’ll see if we can find something with the address on it.”
There was radio silence for a mi
nute. “Sorry, Joe. Billy used a post office box for his mail. I know the directions from the city though. If you come down I20, and then take 61 north, county line is about five miles up the road. Head east and Billy’s place is just outside of town. If you see the town sign, then you have to backtrack about a mile. It’s a red building. A rancher. The house has a full basement, and that’s where we are. Over.”
“Got it.” Craig had pulled out his notepad and written down the directions. More people had returned to the media room, so he walked over to catch them up.
Joe shushed the group again before returning to the mic in front of him.
“Ok Michelle, we got it. If we manage to contact the military, we will send them to you. Over.”
“Ok. ... And, please, if you can help us? We really need it! I don’t know how long we are going to be able to stay hidden!” Michelle was clearly upset.
“The best advice I can give you is to avoid detection. If they do get in, you’ve got to remember that the only way to stop them is to destroy the brain. Think about what weapons you may have lying around that can help you accomplish this. Be proactive. Be brave. Over.”
Jack looked over and saw John roll his eyes. Jack agreed. Joe acted all cool and collected on this side of a radio, but he had not shown himself to be proactive, or brave, at the Ren.
The call ended. But not before they agreed to be in contact again the following evening at the same time and on the same frequency. The room was abuzz with the news, and several people were struggling with what to do. Some wanted to batten down the hatches and stay at the school, while others were ready to mount a search and rescue mission immediately. Most people were undecided. The conversation was going nowhere.
“Keep in mind, that we would have five more mouths to feed. That is if we even manage to bring these folks here. And can we really trust these people?” Joe stated, to the hearty agreement of a few others.
“Wow, Joe. You’re a real fucking hero, aren’t you?” John was shaking his head, the expression on his face one of distaste and contempt.
Joe’s eyes flared and the big man bristled. John continued before he could say anything though.
“Tell me something, Joe. Do you actually trust any of us?”
“People have to earn my trust, so no, I don’t trust everybody here. Especially white folk with superior attitudes!”
“Hold on Joe, this isn’t about skin colour.” Keith stepped into the argument. At the same time Christine and Rachel were pulling Joe back.
“Let it go, dad.” Christine said to him softly. “He ain’t worth it, Joe.” Rachel added.
“Please people!” Nancy called. “Can we just talk about this in a sensible fashion, like adults? John, that was uncalled for. I believe Joe was trying to protect our group.”
She continued even as John was opening his mouth to argue. “And Joe! How dare you pull a race card! Shame on you! You need to be bigger than that.”
That took the stinger out of the argument. Joe and John both looked uncomfortable and apologetic at the same time. Their eyes met for a quick second and John gave a small shrug.
The group continued to discuss the Willemtown situation, but consensus was never reached. People ran out of steam after a while and the arguments were becoming half-hearted.
Craig broke the impasse, if only temporary. “We can’t do anything today, even if we wanted to. It’s dark outside. Guys, maybe we should sleep on this and talk it over again in the morning.”
A few people nodded. Even the people that were up for action had to reluctantly agree that this would be the best decision for now. Within minutes, most people left the radio room. Some went off to bed, while others went in search for an evening snack in the cafeteria. Ethan stayed behind, in hopes that more radio contacts would be established.
JACK TOOK THE NEXT shift on the radio, but his hour of searching was fruitless. Emily went next, and also came up empty. There were still lots of positions on the dial to be explored, so they did not give up just yet. Emily went downstairs to fix herself a cup of tea as Joe took over again. Jack was contemplating heading off to bed himself when suddenly Joe got a hit on the radio.
“Unknown, this is Whiskey Alpha Romeo. Please identify, over”
Joe looked at the receiver with wide eyes for a moment, before bringing the mike to his mouth.
“Whiskey Alpha Romeo, this is Romeo Echo November, how do you read.”
“Romeo Echo November. What the fuck is that? ... You’re not military, are you. Over.”
Joe looked embarrassed for a moment. “Um, no. We are not military. Over.”
“Romeo Echo November.” There was a long pause. Joe was about to speak when the other person continued. “Is that Ren. The Renaissance. That school! Hey! Is that Emily’s crew? Over.”
“Go get Emily! And the others!” Joe ordered his son. Ethan was out the door in a flash.
“Yes, we are Emily’s ‘crew’. Whom am I speaking with? Over.”
The sound of a chuckle could be heard on the other end. “Why this is General Esteban Garcia, of the United States Army!” Some more chuckling could be heard. “Over.”
Joe recognized the name and voice. “Hey, you’re Garcia – you’re that soldier from the bus!” Joe had no idea what to say next. “Over.”
“No fooling you. Over.”
Joe was trying to think of what to say next when Emily came bursting into the room. Joe stood up and offered her the operator’s spot without hesitation.
“It’s that Garcia soldier.” He said to her as he handed her the microphone.
“Garcia? This is Hill. Over”
“Ah! Emily. HAH!” Emily could almost picture Garcia fist-pumping the air on the other end.
“How are you holding up?” Emily frowned as Garcia broke radio protocol.
“Um, we’re doing well, Garcia. All safe. What is going on with you. You sound... odd. Over.”
There was a slight pause. Several more people had made their way to the media room. There was a buzz of excitement as the news spread.
“I... I’m dying, Emily. The syndrome has wiped us out. And I mean every one of us!” That last was said almost as if it was a laughing matter.
Garcia continued. “When we got here there were close to two thousand troops. We were taking names and kicking ass. A couple of helo crews even managed a rescue mission. Those Marines pulled some radio jockeys out of that place.” Garcia didn’t elaborate further. It sounded to Emily like he was deliriously ranting.
“Where was I? ... Oh yeah. Anyway, most of us were already hurting from HAPS though. Oh, right. ‘The Syndrome’, that’s what we call it now. Sounds pretty nasty, don’t it?!”
“We lost a bunch of guys that night. The next day, we rolled out and probably a third of the guys had died overnight or were too sick to go.”
“Matheson! That guy had a plan though! Or maybe it was Shaw... Anyway, they had the healthiest guys posted at every tent. If a guy was looking really bad, they... took care of it.”
People looked at each other in shock at this news. Garcia was breathing heavily but continued.
“Yesterday we still managed to take out thousands of those things. Man, we had some good shooters in our outfit! Headshots.” He seemed to drift off a bit, before speaking with renewed vigor. “Emily, headshots are the only thing that kills ‘em. Otherwise they just keep coming at ya!”
Emily raised the mic to her mouth. “Garcia. Can you make it back to us? Over.”
“No! No, Emily. We’re infected sister! We can’t go over there, placin’ you in danger and all!” Garcia had started slurring his words slightly, almost as if he was intoxicated.
“How many guys are left in the brigade? Garcia, we just got a message from another group of civilians. They urgently need to be rescued! Can I send you directions to their location? Over.”
“I’m ‘fraid we’re in no shape to rescue nobody, girl. Oh man my head is about to burst. Can’t think straight. Sorry. Shoot those coordina
tes over, but I doubt any of us is going to be able to do anything for them. Over.”
Emily sent the Willemtown directions to Garcia. Nobody had high hopes that a rescue mission would be launched though. A few other people including Rachel, Bill and John, had silently entered the media room, curious about all the excitement. They hung back and tried to listen in.
“H–hey Emily. Last night I was ordered watch over about ten guys. They gave me a silencer. Didn’t matter. Nobody was sleeping. ‘The fuck do they think? Folks can’t hear a silenced pistol? I had to take out almost all of them, Emily. ... Oh! It’s ok!” He slurred these words badly, sounding more like ‘iz oh kay’.”
Emily sensed his pain. Garcia spoke up before she could say anything comforting though.
“We only had a couple hundred guys left this morning. And most of them were hurting. That Matheson though! The guy was a legend. What a tough dude! He led us out on our final mission today. I wasn’t there to see it, but I guess right after securing the area he stops, puts the gun to his own head, and blows himself away! Guess he was feeling a lot worse than he led on...”
Sensing the pause, Emily spoke up.
“What about Collins and Brown? Over.”
“...” There was no response
“Garcia do you copy? Over.”
“Yeah I’m here. Still here!” Garcia sounded sarcastic.
“Collins. He died a few nights ago.” Emily held the mic to her forehead. Her eyes closed.
“He was hoping to hook up with you, you know!” At this Emily smiled and nodded knowingly.
“At least he got to kiss the girl.” Garcia added. Emily frowned. She had no idea what that meant. Unperturbed, Garcia continued.
“Brown. Man, that guy was a real warrior. He was in the battle today. We were at the airport, trying to clear the damn place. ... Yeah. Brown. That was one badass motherfucker!”
Garcia laughed. He abruptly stopped. “He’s gone, Emily. Gone Elvis, as they say... We lost track of him at the airport.”
Garcia sighed, never releasing the mic. “He’s gone. They’re all gone. ... Even the civvies and dittyboppers. Oh shit, you’re a dittybopper too, aren’t ya... Sorry, no offence! No offence...”
Apocalypsis Immortuos | Book 1 | Syndrome Page 29