by Hunt, Jack
Why?
Dangerous people. Defending the nation. Helping FEMA. Protecting the line of government. Pick one. For them it was dangerous. The first half of the journey from Elizabeth City to California to be reunited with their daughter had been one hell of a ride. They’d experienced first-hand the perils of a lawless country. Alex’s body still sported the cuts and bruises suffered at the hands of Cowboy, a tobacco-spitting madman with a taste for punishment.
If it hadn’t been for Ryan, he would have drowned.
Since then, the obstacles hadn’t stopped. They’d encountered a number of issues that had slowed them down. Multiple vehicles gave up the ghost, others were stolen right out from underneath their noses, and a couple were destroyed when they were forced to use them as battering rams.
Food. Well, that was an interesting challenge. In the first few days he’d blown through what little cash he had. After that they’d taken to eating anything they could get their hands on — handouts, vending machines were pretty good, abandoned lunch room refrigerators at businesses had yielded a nice selection. With store shelves emptied, it was a case of thinking outside the box, and they’d had to do a lot of that over the past week.
Drinking water was easy enough, they resorted to freshwater springs, streams, and rivers, then boiling it. At night they tied a plastic poncho between trees to catch rainwater. It had worked and it might have been easier if they had stayed in one place but they had to keep moving.
Ten miles east of Denver, in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, they’d blown a tire. To be honest, it came as no surprise.
Luck was running short.
Attempting to swap out the tire, he found the replacement was missing. Of course a valuable lesson was to be learned — when stuck in a bind, always check the vehicle for a backup tire. The problem is, when you’re trying to avoid getting shot, a spare tire is the last thing buzzing in your head.
Continuing the journey by foot they’d made it into the Mile High City, or what was left of it. Denver was a shell of its former self. Rubble dominated; fires released toxic black smoke that spread across the concrete graveyard making it hard to breathe.
Alex was embarrassed to say that buying survival equipment had never been at the forefront of his mind. Like many Americans, reliance on infrastructure, government and community was the norm for him. Now all those talks with Charlie about making his own bug-out bag came back to haunt him.
Arriving in the dead of night, they’d holed up inside the Denver Public Library, figuring they wouldn’t encounter trouble there. They were right. Books were the last thing on survivors’ minds and yet for them that short stay had been valuable.
They obtained several maps, a list of businesses in the city, and found a tiny café full of stock. He’d filled his bag with muffins even though they were as hard as concrete. That night, Alex browsed the survival section, taking two of the books with him and spending an hour or two brushing up on ways they could ride out this shitstorm.
That night he slept like a baby.
That morning he’d awoke to a band of sunshine streaming on his face through a large window. For a moment it even felt like the horror had ended.
Faulty thinking, that’s what that was.
“The drones must be targeting the state capitals as we never saw any of these on our way through other cities,” Sophie said.
“This whole event is one targeted attack,” Ryan replied. “This is just the second wave.”
“I get the distinct impression you still know more than you’re telling,” Sophie said. Alex had backed off giving Ryan a hard time since his rescue. There was little they could do now to change what had happened. How much of a role he played was pure speculation but there were only a few who had access to the capabilities that were used and he happened to be one of them.
Glass crunched beneath Ryan’s feet as he walked farther back in the café.
Alex leaned against the doorway looking out. Small pockets of fire burned all over the city and smoke blew over streets of rubble. “One thing for sure is that technology is way ahead of its time. I’ve never seen drones move that fast or cluster together like that.”
“I have,” Ryan said. “You’d be surprised at the tech the military is using today. Most of those unidentified flying objects that those UFO nuts have video of are ours. Just our government won’t say a thing.”
Ryan climbed over the counter and dug through a cupboard of coffee. He pulled out a package, tore the top open and brought it up to his nose to smell the aroma. Sophie was keen to know what else Ryan knew but she figured it would lead to an argument. Thomas joined in sifting through the store for anything they could use while Alex remained at the door keeping a watchful eye on the drones.
A plastic wrapper of a brownie crinkled in Ryan’s hands. He opened the packaging and went to toss the whole thing into his mouth when Sophie took it out of his hand. “Remember, we’re rationing.”
“Oh come on, you had plenty to eat at the library, besides, there’s a whole box down there.”
“Where?” Thomas said, ducking down only to come up empty. Ryan chuckled. Thomas gave him a jab. “Asshole.”
“Ryan.”
He shot her an annoyed look. “Oh God, what?”
“Where?”
“Where what?”
“Did you see drones like that?”
“Where do you think? I had access to top-secret files in the Pentagon’s system. I saw videos of high-tech equipment, planes, drones, stuff the public still hasn’t seen. Now can you give me the brownie?”
She tossed it back but not before taking a bite and breaking another piece off.
“What else do you know?” she asked.
“I told you everything.”
“Not everything. We nearly died out there.”
Ryan lifted a hand. “How would telling you this beforehand made the outcome any different?” he asked. “I didn’t know there were drones here.”
“I don’t like secrets. Okay?”
He threw his hands up and huffed as he continued to search. Sophie walked over to Alex and offered him a piece of brownie. He might have gobbled it up but he was still full from the stash they’d found in the library’s cafe.
Sophie leaned against the doorway. “You think we should move out this evening?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Those things could have FLIR.”
“In English,” she replied.
“Forward-looking infrared. It uses thermographic cameras that detect heat.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?”
He shook his head and looked out again. “They can’t stay up there the whole time. At some point they have to come down to be recharged even if it is for hydrogen fuel cells. The question is where did they come from and where will they land?”
“The better question is who is controlling them?” she replied.
“Someone miles away!” Thomas said coming up behind them. He was holding several bottles of cold coffee. “Here, we might need to stay awake.” Alex took one and looked at the front of it.
“Nice find.”
“Thought so myself,” he said before chugging back the contents of his bottle, then wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve.
“What do you mean miles away?” Sophie asked.
“Hackers. Do you think they were up in the air when they released that shit on us? They’re controlling all of this remotely from some location.”
“Offshore?” Sophie asked.
“Possibly. A lot of military drones are controlled from thousands of miles away at an airbase in Nevada. Those suckers up there are top-grade tech. We’re not talking about some crappy drone that you buy from BestBuy. Nope.”
“How do you know that?”
He laughed, then took another swig and looked over his shoulder at Ryan who was digging through some box. “Your boy back there isn’t the only one with golden fingers. I’ve dabbled. I took over contr
ol of a few drones in my time. Should I tell her about Creech, Ryan?”
“Knock your socks off.”
He laughed. “Creech Air Force Base in Nevada is where a lot of the drone pilots operate from — you know, the guys who take out insurgents 8,000 miles away in Afghanistan — the ones who drop Hellfire missiles from Predator and Reaper drones. Anyway, a couple of years back I figured it would be interesting to give them a little scare. Me and your boy hacked into their system and took over one of the drones and made it crash into the mountains. Rumor has it those pilots were canned.”
“Idiots. They were just doing their job,” Alex said.
“Oh and what a job that is. Killing people like they were stepping on ants. Come on, you don’t honestly think that every single person they killed down there deserved it, do you? What about the kids and mothers who died in those blasts?”
“Casualties of war,” Alex muttered.
Thomas chuckled. “Jeepers, who needs enemies when we have them in our own backyard?”
As he continued to rattle on about morals and ethics, something caught Alex’s eye. A flash of light, too bright to be sunlight reflecting off steel. “Did you see that?” Sophie stepped forward as he pointed. “Out there.” Another flash. “There. You spot that?”
“Yeah.”
It continued to flicker, leading them to believe someone was tilting a mirror and signaling. Were they trying to get their attention? Alex turned and shouted to Ryan. “Hey, grab a piece of that cracked mirror and bring it over.”
“I’m busy.”
“Ryan!” Sophie bellowed with all the authority of a mother.
To that he responded, hopping over the counter and returning with a shard. “Not exactly a good time to be checking your hair.”
Alex rolled his eyes as he took it and went to walk out. Sophie grasped his arm. “Hey, careful.”
“Always.”
He scanned the skies for drones before darting out to a vehicle and getting into a position where he could angle the mirror and use sunlight to signal back. The street had an eerie feel to it; smoke rising, bodies strewn across rubble and smoldering vehicles. Alex brought up the mirror, his heart pounding fast. The last attack by drones had been so sudden they hadn’t heard them until they zipped overhead and unleashed hell. Squinting into the afternoon light he waited for a response. Nothing. Then it occurred again. This time, however, he heard movement but it wasn’t coming from the direction of where the signal was, but from off to his right. A small figure, cloaked in a black hood, wearing a blue jean jacket and bright Converse, burst over a mountain of stone, jumping from one large slab of concrete to the next like playing hopscotch.
His eyes scanned the blue sky.
He could feel the pulse in his neck beating hard and hear the blood in his ears rushing at the sight of black dots in the distance. Anyone else might have thought it was a swarm of birds.
“Hey!” he yelled out. “Over here!”
The hooded figure turned toward him but continued on.
There was no way the stranger would make it, they were about to run into an open stretch of terrain where there was nothing except the metal bones of vehicles, and those drones had made easy work of those. Alex looked back at the others standing in the doorway. Sophie shook her head, indicating no as if knowing what he was contemplating.
A moment of hesitation then Alex burst out from behind the car and darted through the maze of debris. His eyes bounced between the figure and the drones that were getting closer. He called out to the stranger but instead of slowing they picked up the pace. The stranger’s small legs weren’t a match for his. He slid over the front of a vehicle, launched himself off a slab of concrete and pounded the asphalt. He scooped the figure up even as they cried, then he darted into the nearest building. Adrenaline pumped through his body; he didn’t even look at the stranger until he was sure the drones were gone.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” a young girl’s voice said.
He turned to see her drop back her hood to reveal short pink hair, and piercing blue eyes almost reminiscent of an Arctic wolf.
“I just saved your life, kid.”
“No, you’ve just killed me.”
He frowned, puzzled, as she slumped on the ground, despondent.
2
Mendocino County, California
Shotgun at the ready, Officer Garcia kicked the door wide.
Grandfather Theo’s cabin was situated two hours north of Petaluma. Nestled among the majestic redwoods, close to Lake Ada Rose and ten minutes from the small town of Willits. It had been in Liam’s family for as long as he could remember, a home away from home. His grandparents would often have him there over the summer break just to give him relief from his overbearing father.
Although Elisha had told Garcia they could make their own way, he insisted on giving them a ride. Since the run-in with Carlos, Garcia had kept a close eye on her, the way a father might watch out for his own.
The first sign of trouble was seeing the door ajar. As they rolled up in the police cruiser and parked, Liam had noticed it. Garcia told them to wait in the vehicle while he and Andre made sure it was safe. Andre went around the back while Garcia entered through the front door. Elisha peered out the windshield and waited with bated breath as Garcia disappeared inside. A few seconds later he emerged giving the thumbs-up.
Liam struggled to get out with his arm in a cast. Both of them had suffered broken arms but unlike hers, which occurred in the initial attacks, Liam’s had come from a brutal display of violence. She still couldn’t get the image out of her mind, his arm between those two chairs. She was now staring down five weeks of recovery, while for him it would be six.
“Bastards!” Liam said as he entered the cabin to find the place in complete disarray. A table had been overturned, a loft-style bed torn to shreds and the pantry had been emptied. Though Liam seemed more concerned with a storage room at the rear of the cabin. The door was open, and a broken lock on the floor. As he entered, he banged a fist against the wall. “They took everything.”
“What was inside?”
“Survival gear. You name it, my grandfather had it. That’s why I wanted to come here. If anyone was ready to ride this crap out, it was him.”
“Was he a prepper?” Garcia asked.
“Some might have called him that but no, just an avid hunter and outdoorsman, you could say. Everything that was in that room he’d accumulated over twenty years. Backpacks, emergency gear, tools, food, water, cooking gear, shelter, security items, stuff for creating fires, medical, hygiene. You name it, he had it.” Liam reeled off the items as if he was holding a list. “I used to come in here when I was a kid and rummage through it all. Craziest thing ever. Damn guy could have opened his own survival store. Most of it never got used but he always said it was better to have than not.”
“Did he have any friends in the area?”
“Many and they would have known about this.” He shook his head as he sat down on a bench. The inside reminded Elisha of a sauna — pine paneling, a few small vents to let air in and out. “He wasn’t exactly one for keeping things to himself. Probably that’s why this happened.” He groaned. “He was a good man. He would have given you the shirt off his own back.” Liam sighed, running a hand around the back of his neck. “I’m just glad he passed away before this shitstorm.”
Elisha stepped inside and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Like what? I was banking on this being here. There would have been enough freeze-dried food to last us for the next year.”
“Where did he buy it all?”
“A store in town. Forest City Surplus. It was owned by a buddy of his, Harry Moore. He would take me in there and shoot the breeze with him. I knew his grandson.”
“Well I imagine that place was one of the first to be wiped out,” Andre said appearing behind them. Andre was a strange fella, a huge man but soft-spoken. He looked as if he’d just step
ped out of a penitentiary. Similar in appearance to Garcia, his body was covered in ink.
“Doubt it,” Liam said. “Harry is a force to be reckoned with. A few folks in Willits call him Dirty Harry — you know, after the Clint Eastwood movie.” He chuckled. “Damn guy would put a hole in you with his .45 if you tried to walk out without paying.”
“Well maybe we should head into town and find out if he’s still selling,” Garcia suggested.
Liam got up and shook his head and brushed by them. “Ah forget it. We might as well head back to Petaluma.”
“There’s nothing there worth staying for,” Garcia said. “Trust me on that.”
“Well at least there’s more than here.”
Elisha frowned. “But you said this area is good for wildlife, fishing and…”
“I said a lot of things, okay! I just thought…” he trailed off. “Ah, forget what I thought.” He looked at his hands in frustration. Since losing his parents, he was finding it hard to cope. It was to be expected.
Elisha looked at Garcia. “What do you think?”
Garcia set his shotgun against the wall and with the help of Andre began cleaning up the place. They put the table up again, set the four chairs beneath it and found a black bag to start placing anything that was broken into. “I think you’re better off here than in the city. I think we all would.”
She frowned. “But…”
“Petaluma is no more,” Garcia said setting the black bag down.
“But the emergency committee?”
“As of yesterday, it’s no longer in operation. Carlos’ crew saw to that and as for the police department, it’s down to ten officers, the rest are either dead or missing.” He took a seat at the table. “We have to start thinking of our own survival.”
“Mayor Fischer?” Elisha asked.
“Some say he skipped town after my conversation with him, but knowing him, he could just be hiding like a rat.” Elisha walked over to the main door and looked outside. Birds chirped and she could hear crickets. If she hadn’t experienced the collapse, she could have almost imagined that everything was well in the world.