Burning Skies (Book 2): Fallout Read online

  A cruise of death.

  Stalled in the middle and none of them had the strength to swim ashore.

  It was ironic. When Cal and his almost-wife planned the honeymoon, a cruise was an option. If they had gone with that, Cal would have been on the non-refundable cruise instead of in America when the bombs fell.

  He would have been alive, fine, afloat on the ocean, sipping margaritas while listening to the news about world. Shaking his head, proclaiming his sorrow over the events, all while having all of his hair.

  He had lost a few patches, although he probably wasn’t as bald as he felt. The scars and cuts on his hands from the accident had turned into blistering sores.

  Everyone on the boat experienced that. If they had an open cut, it became an unsightly seeping wound.

  He was able to sleep a little the night before, but knew things were bad when he woke up. His mouth was so dry his tongue felt like sandpaper to the roof of his mouth. To top it all off, he’d started to hallucinate.

  Across the river, on the shore, he thought he saw the Morton Salt girl. Dressed in all yellow, she stood on a pier staring out. Then she multiplied, there were three more of her, giving new meaning to double vision.

  Cal watched as the Morton Salt Girl and her trail of clones climbed in a boat.

  It’s not real, Cal thought. There was no reason for the Morton Salt Girl to be on the river’s edge.

  In his weakness he rested his head on the side of the boat and his hand on Louise’s back. He closed his eyes and started to drift into sleep until he heard the sound of a motor.

  He wanted to lift his head, but he lacked the strength, even moving it slightly caused everything to spin.

  The motor sound drew nearer and then it cut off and was replaced with voices.

  “I knew I saw people,” a woman said.

  “The question is, are they alive?” a man asked.

  “That one is,” another man answered. “How about those two?”

  Cal parted his lips to call out and opened his eyes slightly. Immediately, a bright light nearly blinded him.

  “He is. They all are. Barely.”

  They continued to talk, and the boat moved a little, rocking back and forth. Cal wasn’t sure if it was real or if it was a sleep deprived, dehydration hallucination. If it was a hallucination it was vivid. Cal’s sense of smell kicked in again, and he could smell rubber and cigarettes.

  “Should we transfer?” a man asked.

  “No,” the woman answered. “We’ll tow them to shore. I’ll ride with them while you hitch it. Radio Doc and tell him we have four nor’scapes on the way in.”

  “You really think they’re nor’scapers?” asked a man.

  “Yeah, I do,” she replied. “They all got exposure sickness. The woman is bad. They’re adrift in a stalled boat. So, yeah, they ran from the north.”

  “All hitched,” someone announced, then the boat jolted as the motor rumbling sounded again.

  The boat began to move slowly, and Cal lifted his head.

  “No, no,” she said to him. “Rest. We’ll be there shortly. We’ll get you some help. No worries.”

  No worries?

  Cal was nothing but worries.

  He did as suggested and rested his head down again.

  He hoped the second boat, the four Morton Salt people, were real and not some elaborate dream. Because being real meant rescue, hope, and a not-so-imminent death sentence.

  Cleveland, OH

  Every single bit of their supplies was spread out on the counter top desk in the main security room of the basement bunker.

  Harris manned the supplies, separating them into piles, while he nibbled on his afternoon ration for the day. He tried to stay focused on that task, even contemplating going in the other room to do it because Toby sat on the floor, doing this Toby thing … talking.

  Marissa didn’t help matters much. When she wasn’t smiling over things he said, she was asking him questions like a talk show host.

  “That’s when I took the Mega Bus,” Toby said. “I could have flown. But like, everyone was talking about this Mega Bus on the east. So I had to try it. I mean, after all, I was on the east, right? Was headed to Cleveland.”

  “From Atlanta?” Marissa asked.

  Toby nodded. “One problem though.”

  Harris mumbled. “Mega Bus doesn’t stop in Cleveland.”

  “Dude!” Toby shouted with excitement. “Yes. You’re right. No one told me. I ended up in Indianapolis. I thought something was up when we totally missed Ohio.”

  “You think maybe you should have checked first?” Harris asked.

  “No. I wasn’t in a hurry. I took another bus here. It wasn’t as nice though.”

  “What brings you to Cleveland?” Marissa asked.

  “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” Toby held a slender tan pouch, about an inch wide and four inches long. He squeezed the last remnants of its peanut butter contents in his mouth. “So good. You know why peanut butter is in survival stuff, right?”

  Marissa shook her head.

  “It’s an appetite suppressant. Put a little peanut butter in ya, you don’t want to eat as much. That’s how I lost two hundred pounds.”

  Harris immediately stopped what he was doing. “Wait. What? Two hundred pounds. No way.”

  “Dude. Right hand to God.” Toby raised his hand. “I was huge. Lost a hundred and eighty-two and when they cut the extra skin off. I dropped another twenty or something like that.”

  “From eating peanut butter?” Marissa asked.

  “Not just peanut butter. When my dad died, I got depressed and my weight like maxed out. My uncle took me in. You might know him, he’s pretty B-level famous on the west. Fat Joe.”

  “Of Fat Joe’s tomatoes?” Marissa said excitedly. “I love Fat Joe’s tomatoes.”

  “How did a guy called Fat Joe get you to lose weight?” Harris asked.

  “First, he’s not fat anymore,” Toby told him. “Second, he said to me, ‘Tobias, you fat fuck …’ Okay maybe not those words, but he thought it. He told me, ‘You’ll work and eat right and limit the video games.’ And bam, I lost the weight pretty much over a summer. Maybe into fall.”

  “Just by eating peanut butter,” Harris said in disbelief.

  “Dude, no, weren’t you listening? Peanut butter was part of it. He used to make me eat a teaspoon before each meal. Then I had to eat two slices of tomatoes, any style, a glass of water and then I could have whatever I wanted. By then, I wasn’t hungry. Plus, I was out of school and he worked my butt off. I’m like an ace farmer now. Total asset in an apocalypse world. Dude, do you know how many calories you burn milking a cow?”

  “No.” Harris shook his head. “How many?”

  Toby shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you did.”

  “Jesus,” Harris said with irritation. “I have to get back to this. So, we all have our stuff when we leave.”

  “Since you’re being anti, you could put mine and M’s stuff in one pile. We’re traveling together.”

  “And where are you two going?” Harris asked.

  “Indiana, her family,” Toby answered. “She said it’s farmland.”

  “No,” Marissa corrected. “The name of the town is Farmland.”

  “Cool.”

  “And you’re going to walk?” Harris asked.

  “If we have to. I’m gonna look for a bus and jump it.” Toby nodded. “Where are you going?”

  “I live about five miles south of here, I’m gonna see if my house is alright.”

  “You’re saying we’re leaving in a couple days, right?” Marissa asked. “Are we sure? I mean I want to get out of here as much as you do but are we sure?”

  “Yeah,” Harris answered. “The book says so.”

  “But in movies, radiation lasts for decades. Areas are deadly for centuries.”

  “Not so,” Toby said. “Radiation has a half-life. Gotta follow the seven ten rule.”

  “The seven ten rule
?” Marissa questioned.

  “Yeah it’s how the radiation falls tenfold every seven hours.”

  Harris scoffed in a laugh. “Please, how do you know this?”

  “Dude, just because I’m a pothead doesn’t make me dumb. Speaking of which, man I can’t wait to get out of here and smoke.”

  “Smoke?” Harris said sarcastically. “I take it you mean the marijuana. How exactly do you plan on getting it? I’m pretty sure your dealer has other things to worry about.”

  “Dude, simply because you called it, ‘the marijuana’ tells me you don’t know too many potheads. I have it. In my backpack. I would have already fired up but you two are so straight, I figured you’d get pissed if I did that in this closed in space.”

  “You have marijuana in your backpack? How much?”

  “Enough.” Toby shrugged.

  Harris held out his hand. “Let me see.”

  “You aren’t gonna try to play security dude and confiscate my illegal stash, are you?”

  “No, I want you to get it, so we can all smoke a little and relax.”

  “Dude, sweet.” Toby got up and went into the other room.

  “You know,” Marissa said, “it makes you hungry and thirsty.”

  “We’ll dip. I’m not worried about finding rations after we get out of the city.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Yeah, some cities got hit by terrorists. We’re a big country. Right now, everyone is rallying, looking for survivors.”

  “You don’t think this is more than terrorists?”

  Harris shook his head. “I do not. I think once we make our way out, we’re gonna be surprised how fine everything really is,” he said. “I believe it.”

  Swall, CA – San Joaquin Valley

  “Well, when you said you wanted eggs,” Joe said to Saul in the kitchen, “I didn’t think you wanted me to be your own personal Waffle House.”

  “You have the best eggs in the county.”

  “Yeah, well you could have made them yourself.” Joe set the plate of two fried eggs in front of Saul.

  “Look at these, perfect.” Saul grabbed his fork. ‘Say, have you heard from Toby?”

  Gripping the back of a chair, Joe shook his head. “No. But that kid is smart. I don’t believe for one second he got caught up in trouble. He’s safe, I feel it.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Listen, you got me confused, I called you to talk about …”

  “Eggs.”

  “Goddamn it, Saul. Listen …”

  “Let’s go outside.” Saul stood.

  “What about your eggs?”

  Saul grabbed the plate and walked out the kitchen door.

  It took a second delay, but Joe followed. By the time he made it outside, Saul was standing a good distance from the house eating his eggs.

  Clearly, his friend had lost his mind.

  Joe took the gentle approach and cautiously walked to Saul. “What’s happening, my friend?”

  “I didn’t want to be in the house in case it was bugged.”

  “What do you mean bugs?”

  “Not bugs as in buzz-buzz insects. Bugs as in listening devices.”

  “Oh, now …” Joe waved out his hand.

  “Oh, now, what? No. No. That’s why I came over. I don’t trust the phones.”

  “The television is awfully screwy. It’s like the twilight zone. People are all happy and chipper and not one word about the bombs.”

  “Exactly. It’s like none of it happened. But it did. That’s why I don’t want to talk on the phone.”

  “Why would they listen?” Joe asked.

  “Because they need to hear what’s going on,” Saul said. “They need to hear if people are planning a rebellion.”

  “Hold on.” Joe lifted his hand. “I watched the news when things started. This was all some terrorist group made up of Americans. Very un-American but Americans nonetheless.”

  “I think it’s more,” Saul said. “The un-American had help. They had to. There is no way they go the power up, the phones, and the television. Not on this level. I heard … I heard there were soldiers from another country parachuting from the sky.”

  “Like that movie?”

  Saul nodded.

  “What country?” Joe asked.

  “I don’t know. A big one. Like I said has to be big to get things up and running so fast.”

  “Why would they do that?” Joe asked. “If they are gonna invade our country why would they make us comfortable?”

  “That’s easy,” Saul said. “We’re comfortable. We don’t fight back.” He took a huge hunk of eggs and placed it in his mouth.

  “Honestly, Saul, even if the kitchen was bugged or the phones. Nothing we said here can be taken wrong. We aren’t rebels.”

  “Not yet.”

  Joe looked quickly at him. “What are you saying? Take arms and fight?”

  “War and fighting is a young man’s game. Survival is a farmer’s game. That’s how we fight. Right now, you and I have to find a way to get our crops and food and hide it. Hide it somewhere fast. Before this other country takes control of the farm.”

  “Will they do that?” Joe asked.

  “I would. Control the food, control the people.”

  “Starve the fighters.”

  Saul nodded. “So, you and I have to control what we can now. Stock it. Store it. Hide it. We can do our part in this rebellion by being a safe place for food, supplies, and to hide.”

  “You think they’ll be a rebellion?” Joe asked.

  “Oh, without a doubt. This is America. We’re gonna fight back. We’re gonna help.”

  “I’m in, man, but the television, you wouldn’t even know anything was wrong.”

  “That’s exactly how they want it. After a while people will believe it,” Saul said. “And that’s what makes this all even more scary.”

  Holly River, WV

  Steve Tanner worried about his wife, but Bear Grayson told him to “pipe down” about it. Last he heard through radio chatter she was safe and sound in a government bunker.

  Then Bear followed it with, “However, if I am picking up that chatter, the enemy is too.”

  Bear was a no-nonsense, old war vet who had lived on the mountain for fifty years. He was a communications specialist in the war and conveyed to Steve that no means of communications were safe.

  “How the hell are we supposed to gather forces?” Steve asked.

  “What are you shooting for?” Bear asked.

  “Right now, our men and women of the military are out there. You know they want to fight. You know that people like me, you, they want to fight. We need to organize.”

  “Yes, we do, but we can’t go halfcocked, get a bunch of goofs together and attack a brigade. We need a strategy. We need intel. Ten men with a plan can do a lot more damage than a hundred running haywire.”

  “But if they hear what we’re saying, how do we reach out?” Steve asked.

  “It’s less a matter of them hearing and more of them understanding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean. I can get on the radio and say, ‘hey all you guys ready to be part of the resistance, tomorrow fluff Barney the Dinosaur’s tail.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It means …” Gus’ voice entered the room. “Code words. Code phrases. They can listen all they want, but if they are clueless to what we’re saying, we have the upper hand.”

  Bear looked at Gus. “Don’t you knock?”

  “You’re on the sun porch, Bear, the door was open.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right, trying to air it out from Stevie Boy here. He ain’t smelling that good.”

  Steve facially grimaced at him, then walked to Gus and embraced him. “Glad you’re here.”

  “Safest place I know,” Gus said. “I don’t expect it to be long before others join us. We can get and secure the east coast, then hit others using Bear
’s coded methods. I’ve been spreading the word from home to here. Letting them know this is home base. Word will travel.”

  Bear looked at him curiously. “Word will also travel to the enemy.”

  “Eh,” Gus waved out his hands. “I don’t expect the Procs to even get this.”

  “Procs?” Steve asked.

  “People’s Republic of China,” Gus answered.

  “Hot damn.” Bear smacked his hand on the desk. “That is a good one. Lot easier than saying People’s Republic of China, that’s for goddamn sure.”

  “How are you spreading the word?” Steve asked.

  Gus reached to his back pocket and then set down a bright orange flyer. On it was a big fish center and the words:

  Gene Autry Fishing Battle

  Hosted by Gus Cash

  Holly River, WV

  Refreshments provided by Honeymoon Chinese

  “There you have it,” Bear said. “Any soldier knows Gene Autry. That’s a call out to warriors. Gus here, his name is famous, they see that they know he is organizing. The Chinese food is a nice touch to say it’s against the Chinese.”

  “You posted these?” Steve asked.

  “Everywhere I could,” Gus said.

  “They’re good. But honestly, Gus, just my opinion,” Steve said. “With all that’s going on, I don’t think a single person is going to understand your coding. So don’t feel bad if no one shows up.”

  Chapter Six

  Eight Days Later – Ten Days Post Bombs

  White Sulphur Springs, WV

  Everything was technologically old. Despite the bunker being updated and refitted in parts, the communications room of Greenbrier had not been touched in decades. The computer system looked like an advertisement from the RadioShack Tandy computer days. Black screen, green lettering, blinking block of light. But they worked. They did their job.

  Troy had brought with him an emergency communications computer system. Locked in that lead base case, which also served as a faraday cage. The program looked like those in the communication room, an old DOS operating system.

  It took several days for them to get a steady connection to communication. It was hit and miss. Up and down. They’d connect to the satellite, and just as they would to get an image, the satellites would go down. Finally, through a secure and hidden area of the internet, Troy connected them to the UK. From there, the techno geniuses of Great Britain worked to get them together and online. Finally, there was talk.