Surviving The Evacuation | Life Goes On (Book 2): No More News

by Tayell, Frank

  “Down a firebreak?” Pete asked.

  “The maintenance vehicles would have driven along it,” Corrie said.

  In better weather, Pete thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. His doubts were far bigger than the route they were taking. Silence reigned for a dozen rattling miles. Even Rufus was subdued as they bounced along the ruler-straight trail. Pete didn’t need to ask to know that the pilot’s words were replaying on a loop in everyone’s minds.

  “How much food and ammo do we actually have?” Olivia finally asked.

  “Six small containers of the potato soup,” Pete said, leaping at the task, anything to distract from the sheer enormity of the new horror visited upon them. “I’ve got two of Kempton’s ration pouches, too. The mango curry ones which are… well, there’s a reason we haven’t eaten them yet. Ammo, I’ve got three magazines.”

  “Four,” Corrie said, without taking her hands from the wheel or eyes from the road.

  “Two and a half,” Olivia said. “And two spare for the pistol.”

  “Water,” Corrie said. “That’s more important.”

  “Just my water bottle,” Olivia said.

  “The same,” Pete said.

  “I’ve got three spare,” Corrie said. “Outback habit,” she added. “And how much fuel?”

  “Six containers, and those are about five gallons each, right?” Olivia said. “So, what do you think the fuel efficiency of this TAPV is?”

  “We’ll reach Thunder Bay,” Corrie said. She glanced at the dash. “Probably. But Wawa, certainly.”

  “Good. Cool. Fine,” Olivia said, leaning back in the seat.

  “But probably not until tomorrow,” Corrie added. “We can’t go any faster than this, and we can’t drive along a firebreak at night.”

  “Maybe we’ll reach a road soon,” Pete said, but without much confidence. On their journey eastward from Wawa, despite taking the most direct roads, they’d still followed a circuitous route.

  “Would rainwater be safe to drink?” Olivia asked.

  “Today? Probably. Tomorrow? Possibly not,” Corrie said.

  “Right. Fine. And river water?” Olivia asked.

  “Not after tomorrow’s rain,” Corrie said.

  “We need a Geiger counter, “Olivia said.

  “And to find a river quickly,” Pete said. “Get as much water as we can.”

  “If we find a river, we’ll have to turn back,” Corrie said. “They won’t have built a bridge for a firebreak.”

  “Right. No.”

  Silence settled again, as their minds independently buzzed, circling the new reality.

  “Corrie?” Pete said. “Back in Australia, you said Lisa Kempton—”

  “Yes,” Corrie cut him off.

  “What?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes to it all,” Corrie said. “This is the nuclear war that Kempton was trying to stop. Not in the targets. I honestly can’t imagine why anyone would consider the cities along the Saint Lawrence as strategically important. The code I created to hijack the satellites, it was to stop this, or something very like it.”

  “It can’t be,” Olivia said. “I mean… no. It can’t be. You said… no. I thought you said that some politicians were working with the cartel. Why would they start a nuclear war now? How would they do it without any satellite communications?”

  “Exactly,” Corrie said. “That was us. Me. Kempton. The code I wrote, years ago, was destined to shut down satellite communications, including the missile guidance systems. That was the goal, of course. The aim. But… I can’t believe we were so stupid. Kempton, me, all of us.”

  “What do you mean?” Pete asked.

  “Kempton wanted a way of pulling the plug on the guidance systems as a brute-force way of stopping a nuclear conflict if all other methods failed. But she envisaged it being preceded by coups, with there being enough honest politicians, dutiful generals, and thoughtful soldiers left that, after the first wave failed, the second wouldn’t be launched. She didn’t plan for the undead, for the chaos it brought. Nor did she realise, without comms, there was no way of stopping any plans that were in progress. She was worried this was coming. That’s why she had Rampton and Jackson, and you, Pete, sent down to Australia. She could have found someone else to activate my code. I wasn’t necessary for this part of her plan, but she wanted to exile and expose the traitors in her midst. The plans were in motion, but if it hadn’t been for the undead, they could have been halted.”

  “You mean that in some missile silo in—” Olivia began, and then stopped. “Wait. We fired first, didn’t we? That’s what you’re saying. America fired first, and the missiles that hit Canada were retaliation?”

  “Almost certainly, yes,” Corrie said. “Part of a plan set weeks ago.”

  “And if it hadn’t been for the undead,” Olivia continued, “the commander of a missile silo in Omaha might have queried the orders. The same, maybe, for someone in Siberia. But with the undead roaming the streets, maybe they thought it was part of the battle plan to defeat the zombies?”

  “Right. Exactly,” Corrie said. “At any other time, cutting comms would have given them pause. Maybe even only long enough to ask who was responsible. But Kempton didn’t plan for the undead.”

  “We fired first,” Olivia whispered. “They hit Canada, so where did we hit? Sweden? Denmark?”

  “Korea?” Pete asked. “What if the Pacific was attacked, too?”

  Once again, the silence returned, deeper and even more pensive than before.

  The firebreak led to a logging trail, which became a road, and as that began curving, they rattled onto another firebreak, and so continued mostly west. Even when they found another road, Pete didn’t bother trying to locate it on a map. They drove up a shallow hill, down a steeper incline, and up a taller crest where the trees had been cleared around a lookout point. Space had been cleared for cars to park, while some lumber had been cut into shallow benches, on the back of which rusting metal signs reminded visitors to take their litter home. There were no other amenities, and no other vehicles stopped there, but the elevation provided them with a perfect view of the mushroom cloud.

  “Where is it?” Olivia whispered. “Is that Wawa?”

  “It’s too far to the east and south,” Corrie said. “Did anyone see a flash when we were in the trees?” She peered at the map. “I have no idea. It’s nowhere. They dropped a bomb on nowhere.”

  “Except it’s close to Wawa,” Pete said. “And Sault Ste. Marie and the border with Michigan. That would be worth targeting, destroying, wouldn’t it? Tactically, I mean.”

  “Anyone retreating from the Saint Lawrence will drive straight into it,” Olivia said. “We should go back and warn them.”

  “It’ll take days for the judge to gather the remains of the general’s army,” Corrie said. “And during that time, they’ll shelter from the fallout. It’s those closer to the blast I would worry about. They can’t help the judge, but the judge can’t help them, and neither can we.”

  “Do you mean you want to give up on Wawa?” Olivia asked.

  Corrie turned to face the road. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “We should go to Thunder Bay,” Pete said decisively. “That’s what the judge said, and we might reach there tomorrow evening. We can send a message to Nanaimo by plane, and maybe fly back to the judge as well. Planes, yeah,” he said, warming to the idea. “That’s got to be the answer. Thunder Bay.”

  “Zombie,” Olivia said, pointing in the rear view mirror. The creature was slowly lumbering up the hillside behind them.

  “Save the ammo,” Corrie said, putting the TAPV into gear. “We’ll need it.”

  When they came to a logging trail, wider than most, Corrie turned off the road. They were heading north now, but no one said anything. No one had said anything since they’d driven away from the mushroom cloud.

  Trail, firebreak, road, and finally Corrie pulled in.

  “Is something wrong?” Olivia asked.

>   “I just wanted a minute,” Corrie said. “A minute to breathe the air.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Pete asked. “I mean, with the mushroom cloud so close.” He frowned. “And how come we’re still able to drive? Aren’t nuclear bombs supposed to fry anything electrical?”

  “Military vehicles are shielded against EMPs,” Corrie said, getting out and taking a deep lungful of air. “And fallout isn’t a problem for hours. Days, depending on the winds. And depending on where the bombs fell.”

  Pete and Olivia followed her outside, standing on the roadside, protectively close to the TAPV, tentatively stretching while Rufus bounded into the trees. The dog sprinted back almost immediately.

  “What is it, boy?” Olivia asked, as all three reached for the weapons. “Zombies?”

  Rufus yipped, circling around the truck before settling by the door.

  “Want to go investigate?” Pete asked.

  “Not really,” Corrie said.

  “Hello!” Olivia called. “Anyone there?”

  No reply emerged from the forest.

  “Probably just a stag,” Corrie said.

  “Or a bear,” Pete said. “Speaking of which, it’s getting dark. We’re going to need somewhere to sleep tonight. I don’t think we can drive along those trails after dark.”

  “Or these roads,” Olivia said. “You want to look for a motel?”

  “Or a cabin,” Pete said.

  “Or a river,” Corrie said. “Next one we see, we stop.”

  “You want me to drive for a bit?” Pete asked.

  “Sure, yeah,” Corrie said. “Although…” She peered along the road, at the trees, turning back to the TAPV just as Pete heard it: an engine.

  A very civilian, very muddy, grey four-door sped along the road, clocking at least sixty which only increased as the vehicle drew near the TAPV. The car sped onward, still accelerating, leaving dust behind and Rufus huffily growling.

  “Our guns must have scared them off,” Pete said, seeking a charitable explanation.

  “They thought we’d broken down,” Corrie said. “And were worried the three armed soldiers would requisition their car.”

  “But their car still works,” Olivia said. “So wherever it came from was beyond the EMP. Which means, I think, that no bombs fell to the west.”

  Corrie shrugged, but didn’t answer.

  One kilometre and four minutes later, the vehicle-column of refugees appeared. Travelling in the same direction as the grey car, they sped by, mostly in the other lane. A few were driving the wrong direction in the wrong lane, and hurriedly pulled in when they spotted the TAPV. A recklessly veering matte-red convertible caused Pete to swerve off the road and onto the beginning of a track. Trucks. Buses. Vans. Cars. The convoy seemed to go on forever. They were all civilian vehicles. All packed with people and possessions, but it was only the passengers who stared at the army vehicle now stopped on the roadside.

  “I suppose we’ll wait until they pass,” Pete said. “Unless you want to try to flag one down?”

  “We’d get flattened,” Olivia said. “Where are they coming from? Or is that the wrong question?”

  “Are they fleeing another bomb, you mean?” Corrie asked. “Or are they fleeing the undead?”

  Even as they waited, and as Pete lost count of the number of vehicles in the convoy, a truck appeared on the road, coming the other direction, the way the TAPV had been travelling. An ambulance came behind, then another truck, and then a column of cars. Soon the sound of honking horns and screeching brakes wrecked the forest’s silence as the two columns came within inches of disaster.

  “It’s too soon for them to have come from the Saint Lawrence, right?” Olivia asked.

  “By at least a day,” Corrie said.

  Pete threw the truck into reverse.

  “You’re not driving out there?” Olivia asked.

  “Nope,” he said, turning the TAPV. “But I don’t want to sit here until dark, or until a crash makes us play ambulance. Not when there are plenty of real ambulances out there on the road.”

  In a dead-end clearing at the end of a track they’d thought would lead to a road, they found a cabin one storm away from being a ruin. Though it was deserted now, they weren’t the property’s first arrivals since the outbreak. Two of the previous occupants were buried in neat graves dug beneath a towering maple.

  “There’s no one here,” Corrie said, coming out from the small cabin. “Whoever dug those graves tidied up before they left, and took the food with them. We won’t get much further before dark. Do we stop for the night, or keep going?”

  “I’d like to keep going,” Olivia said. “But we can’t. If we crash, the message will never get through.”

  “Then I guess we’re stopping,” Corrie said. “I’ll start a fire.”

  At least the forest provided them with plenty to burn in the small iron stove that was the cabin’s only method of heating and cooking. After carrying in a third armful of reasonably dry and thoroughly dead wood, Pete collapsed onto a high-backed chair with tufts of stuffing erupting from the crudely stitched seat. It was still more comfortable than the TAPV.

  “Nuclear bombs,” he murmured.

  “If it weren’t for the zombies, I might be shocked,” Olivia said. “But I just don’t have any surprise left in me.”

  “We have a problem,” Corrie said, entering the cabin and closing the door behind her.

  “Zombies?” Pete asked.

  “It’s the fuel,” Corrie said. “Only two of the containers we’re carrying have any in them.”

  “Oh. I thought… sorry,” Olivia said. “My fault. I should have checked them all.”

  “None of us checked,” Corrie said. “We’re all to blame. Or none of us are.”

  “How much do we have left? How far can we reach?” Pete asked.

  “Four or five hundred kilometres,” Corrie said. “That’s on roads. Off road, less.”

  “We could get back to the judge, then?” Pete asked. “Go back, refuel. Start again. We should have brought more ammo with us anyway. And food. And water. And everything else.”

  “We’d lose an entire day,” Olivia said.

  “Can we reach Thunder Bay?” Pete asked.

  “No. But we might reach Wawa,” Corrie said.

  “But the bomb was dropped close to Wawa,” Olivia said. “I wonder if that was where those refugees were escaping, and where the others were heading. Because that’s a possibility, isn’t it? That more bombs were dropped elsewhere. What was the name of the lakeside town where the ferry was supposed to come?”

  “Marathon,” Corrie said.

  “We should aim for that,” Olivia said. “We could catch the ferry to Thunder Bay. Or at least get them to take a message.”

  Corrie unfolded the map she’d brought from the TAPV. “Other refugees will have arrived before us,” she said. “Is going there the best way we can help?”

  “Where else could we go?” Pete asked.

  Corrie held out the map. “We’re north of Wawa. I’m not sure how far north, not exactly, but there’s one place we might find more fuel. We can’t be far from where Kempton was building that telescope.”

  “Where you think the CIA caught her?” Olivia asked. “You actually want to go there?”

  “Not really,” Corrie said. “But they were bringing supplies and materials in on the old rail-freight line. I don’t know if that’s the same one that’s marked on this map, but the railroad runs almost to Lake Winnipeg.”

  “To Pine Dock, you mean?” Pete asked.

  “I think so,” Corrie said, peering at the map. “I mean, no. Not to Pine Dock. I think the railroad runs close to the eastern shore of Lake Winnipeg. We’d still have to find a way around the lake to get to Pine Dock, but there were other groups, other communities, holding on up there.”

  “You want us to drive along the railroad?” Olivia asked.

  “We got lucky today with the trails and firebreaks and roads,” Corrie sai
d. “But those refugees we saw, they’ll just be the start. There’ll be more over the coming days. The roads are going to be clogged.”

  “That still doesn’t solve our lack of fuel,” Pete said. “You think we can find more at the telescope?”

  “It was a construction site, so probably,” Corrie said. “But I thought we could look along the railroad. Steal it from a locomotive, or loot it from a depot.”

  “We won’t find it in a gas station, that’s for sure,” Olivia said. “The general can’t have left much on her way east, and those refugees will take the rest. A railroad? Yeah, okay. Maybe. Pete, what do you think?”

  He shrugged, doing his best to hide his real feelings. “Why not,” he said. But what he thought was that it didn’t matter. Wawa, Thunder Bay, Pine Dock, Nanaimo. Wherever they went, wherever they reached, news of the nuclear war would travel ahead of them. By the time it reached Guam or Australia, even if help was available, it would arrive far, far too late.

  13th March

  Chapter 38 - If Not Us Then Who?

  Ontario

  “It shouldn’t be such a beautiful morning,” Pete said. He’d woken last, come outside, and found Olivia on the small veranda, watching dawn dance through the trees.

  “No it shouldn’t,” Olivia said. “I’m glad it is, I wouldn’t want to force our way down firebreaks in the rain.” She handed him her water bottle. “That said, we could do with some rain later, assuming it isn’t glowing.”

  “Are we wasting our time?” Pete asked. “It feels like we are. Even if we get a message to Australia, what will they be able to do? Aren’t we just looking for an excuse to run away?”

  “You’d prefer running towards a mushroom cloud?” Olivia asked.

  “Motivation is important,” Corrie said, appearing from around the side of the small cabin. “We’re trying to save more than just ourselves. In doing so, we’re trying to survive, but that’s the by-product rather than the purpose. Besides, what else can we do? We can’t stay here, so we can either go back or go on.”

  Pete mulled that over as they gathered their gear and headed over to the TAPV.