Burning Skies (Book 2): Fallout Page 5

  “We have a bit of trouble here. Unrest. Concerns,” said Prime Minister Winslet. Her voice stayed cool and calm. Never wavering. “We pick up bits and pieces of radio from your side. Not much. Just seems everything is blocked. We’re working on it.”

  “I know you are,” said Madeline. “I appreciate it.”

  “How are you holding on?” asked the prime minister.

  “I feel like a mouse in a maze.”

  “Understandable.”

  “So, you’ve not been drawn in?” Madeline asked.

  “Not yet. The population of Great Britain is in turmoil over what to do. However, I have received word from Russia. We’re meeting for the summit in two days.”

  “The summit?”

  “Yes,” the prime minister said. “The Russian president has called several countries together. So we collectively can figure out what course of action we are going to take whether it be held or otherwise.”

  “I take it China want to be there?”

  There was no response.

  “Prime Minister?”

  “China is denying all culpability in this. Flat out denying it.”

  “What?” Madeline said with almost a laugh. “They’re here. Reports that I’m getting show they’re here in masses. Military presence.”

  “Yes. But they claim they are there as goodwill ambassadors and also for humanitarian reasons.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “You know that, and I know that,” the prime minister said. “I’m pretty certain the world knows it as well. But no one can make a move without knowing one hundred percent what the situation is over there.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t …” Madeline paused to cough. “I can’t fill you in … because …” She coughed again. “I have no idea where normal clothes are let alone …” Again, she coughed. A dry hacking cough.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I think …”

  “Shit,” Troy blurted out.

  “What?” Madeline asked.

  “Smoke.” He pointed to the vent.

  Madeline peered up to the thin white stream of smoke that poured in. “Prime Minister, I have to call you back. We have a problem here.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Madeline disconnected the call and stood.

  “Sam,” Troy called another soldier in the room. “Escort the president out until we can find out the source of the smoke.”

  “Right away, sir.” He placed hand on Madeline’s back. “This way, ma’am.”

  Madeline didn’t know what to expect when she left the communications room. Would the halls and main areas be filled with smoke, was the fire nearby? She was confused because not a single alarm went off. But as she grew farther away from the communications room, there wasn’t any smoke.

  Sam led her with urgency toward the former casino area and to the huge steel door.

  “Sam? What’s going on?” a soldier asked. “Everything okay?”

  “Captain is looking for the source of smoke,” Sam replied. “Get some guys together and see if he needs help?”

  “What smoke?”

  “It’s in the back.” Sam pulled the door opened with a grunt, enough for them to slip out, then he secured the door again.

  The passageway to the top was a long, sloped tunnel lit by sporadic emergency lights. It was an exhausting ordeal to walk it and Madeline’s legs ached and she began to get winded from the pace.

  Finally, she felt a renewed sense of stamina when she saw the sun from the open doors. It was unusual because they were never left open. She figured someone got the word about the smoke and opened them.

  Even though it was overcast, it was still bright, and Madeline’s eyes started to adjust before she stepped out.

  Once outside, the temporary blindness was replaced with shock. She froze and didn’t move. In fact, she did the only thing she could think of and that was to raise her hands.

  It was the only thing she could do.

  At the west entrance of the bunker, seemingly waiting for her, was a line of at least forty foreign soldiers all aiming their weapons at her.

  Air China, Flight to San Antonio, Texas

  Not including the two flight attendants and pilots, General Liu was one of only two people aboard the large aircraft. It had been restructured long before the invasion to include a flying meeting room, designed to accommodate an entire government team in the air with its plush, wide chairs that were set up in rows of four, face to face, like a train car. There was a conference table and small bar. But the general sat alone. His finger ran over the rim of his glass that contained his slightly warmed baijiu. He sipped it occasionally while staring out the window. His computer tablet was on the small table before him. He would get to that. He just needed to think. Across from him were two empty seats, in fact all around were empty seats.

  It was a waste of fuel, he didn’t need to ride in comfort. Plus, waiting for his day to board the plane put him days behind schedule. He could have been in Texas for days already.

  San Antonio was a large city with one point four million people. It was two hundred miles west of Houston Ground Zero. The entire state was going to be a challenge to him. The more he looked at what he had to oversee, the more he realized he had the biggest problem area. The biggest headache was the fact that Fen would set up her headquarters there as well.

  The entire military campaign was absurd and obviously masterminded by someone without decades of experience. It wasn’t thought through; while they would claim it was, Liu knew better.

  He likened it to the many times he chuckled when America’s CIA initiated something under the guise of a military action. Always it failed.

  Ms. Shu and her team had been following the chatter about the domestic terrorist disruption and attempt to take and overthrow the US government. They inserted themselves into it, having moles inside so they could swiftly take over, manipulate, and control it, claiming the largest ‘land invasion’ in history.

  Soldiers of the People’s Republic of China put their lives on the line. Monetarily, it was going to be a nightmare. Moving ships, aircraft, and humanitarian aid.

  Sending food to a country in chaos from a country that produced only enough to feed themselves. The only ‘smart’ part of Shu’s plan was to get the nonaffected areas up and running as if nothing was wrong. Put the country back to work. Even then, Liu wasn’t sure that would work.

  Four years earlier while at a training exercise, Liu was asked how he would invade and take over the United States if need be.

  He had a simple solution.

  Buy them.

  Buy every single debt of the United States then claim ownership.

  He was laughed at. He wondered now how many of his comrades were laughing as their sons went to war.

  Liu’s attention was disrupted for a moment, when the flight attendant quietly placed his lunch on the table. He nodded a thank you to her and she left. A few seconds later, Fen sat across from him and was given her lunch.

  “Thank you,” she said to the flight attendant.

  “An entire plane,” said the general. “Yet you choose to sit with me.”

  “You’ve been quiet and we have much to discuss.”

  “I have been quiet because I am thinking about the one hundred and seventy-three thousand military that are in Texas, and the report that we have not secured nine of the fifteen bases. Nine? How have we not secured that many?”

  “It is concerning, yes.” She nodded. “But we have now secured something better.”

  “And that is?”

  With an arrogant smile she lifted her drink to her lips. “The new President of the United States.”

  Chapter Seven

  Hanlen, WV

  There was a point when Cal lost consciousness. Sometime between the arrival of the yellow suit people and his journey, full speed, on his back down a hallway. The overhead lights seemed to have a strobe effect, causing even more confusion on his part.

 
“Sir, sir,” the male voice called to him. “What is your name?”

  Cal’s head went side to side. It was hard to tell what exactly ailed him, he felt so poorly.

  “Sir, do you hear me? Look at me.”

  Cal blinked, the light above the man’s head made him a shadow. He could only make out a little of his face, and even that was blurry.

  “What is your name?”

  “Cal. Owen Calhoun.”

  “Owen, listen to me, I need you to stay with me. Try to stay awake. Okay?”

  “Cal, my name …” he groaned, his head going side to side trying to see what was going on. One minute he was lucid the next he was grappling with reality and a plethora of noises he couldn’t discern. Moans, talking, shouting.

  “Mr. Calhoun, do you know the names of the people you were with?” he asked, grabbing Cal’s arm.

  Cal felt a pinch. “Um … Louise.”

  “The woman’s name is Louise.”

  “Diabetic.”

  “She’s diabetic? Thank you. The two men? Their names?”

  “Rick. Ricky. The cop … Jake.”

  “Thank you. Do you …”

  Cal jolted when he heard a painful cry, a woman, it was close. Out of breath and panicked, Cal tried to get up. “Louise. That was Louise.”

  “Calm down.”

  “Where am I? Who are you?” Cal felt the sudden sensation of warmth running through his veins. “Where?”

  “You’re at an expedient medical station.” The man’s voice sounded distant, echoing, and it began to fade. “Mr. Calhoun, stay with us.”

  What was happening? Why did things start to spin … float…?

  “Mr. Calhoun?”

  A long beep rang out.

  Everything went black.

  Gasp!

  Cal jolted and his eyes opened wide as he wheezed, loudly at first. Cal thought he just dozed off, a brief instant of passing out, then he realized it was more than that. It was quiet, the multitudes of voices and the mayhem were gone.

  He tried to move but as soon as he did, his entire body hurt. His chest especially. He cringed and reached for his chest when he realized he was hooked to monitors. He tilted his head to the left to try and see what was going on. The overhead lights were bright and everything farther than a few feet away was blurry.

  “Wonderful,” a gentle female voice said. “You’re awake.”

  Cal looked up to the woman leaning over him. She smiled with a gentleness, a few strands of blonde hair dangled in her face as she glanced down. The rest of her hair was pulled back.

  “Don’t try to move. You’re hooked up. I need to get a doctor.”

  “How long was I passed out?”

  “Passed out? No.” She forced a closed mouth smile. “Unconscious, coma. You’ve been in critical condition.”

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I just was transferred here yesterday. I believe five days.”

  “Five days?” Cal groaned. “How was I critical? Was it the radiation sickness?”

  “You suffered cardiac arrest.”

  “I had a heart attack?”

  She nodded. “It did allow your body to rest enough that we could treat the radiation. You are recovering. The road ahead is long for you. I won’t lie.”

  “Who are you?” Cal asked.

  “Leana. I’m a nurse here,” she answered.

  “The people … the people I came in with. Where are they?” Cal asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Who did you come in with? I can check.”

  “Please. I need to know if they’re okay. Especially the woman. They came with me. Jake, Ricky, and Louise.”

  “Any last names?”

  Cal closed his eyes. “I’m drawing a blank.”

  “That’s fine.” She placed her hand on his. “I’ll go see what I can find out. I’ll be back. In the meantime, please don’t move.”

  Cal nodded as his form of agreement. Leana slipped her hand from his and walked away. Cal blinked several times, clearing the blurriness form his eyes. He was in some sort of large room, a gymnasium perhaps. Even though things were still a bit visually foggy, Cal could still see he wasn’t alone in that gym, far from it. All around him were people, massive amounts of people, all laying on cots in a pseudo hospital setting. Upon seeing that, he rested his eyes again. Clearly it was going to take Nurse Leana a while, and what else did he have to do but lay there.

  Cleveland, OH

  Toby’s assessment about the building had been correct. He theorized that it was still standing, or at the very least it hadn’t collapsed, blocking them in. He came to this conclusion because people left. When Harris didn’t let them in, those who lacked patience abandoned the basement hallway. They took the stairs and never returned. Either they made it out or were somehow killed.

  Toby was banking on the former.

  They had no idea what was waiting for them when they left the bunker. They stayed on the assumption that the bombs were nuclear. They had been so cut off that anything was possible when they emerged.

  For all they knew everything could be gone, or they’d step outside to rescue workers and a media circus.

  No matter how much he tried to mentally prepare for the worst, there wasn’t enough mental preparation in the world for Toby.

  His heart shattered, and Cleveland wasn’t even his hometown.

  They carried the remaining provision with them and slowly ascended the stairs.

  Three flights up steps. That was all they had to endure.

  The second they hit the first set of stairs, the smell of old smoke permeated the air. The second staircase brought blackened walls and charred debris scattered about. Just as they hit street level, they had to climb over chunks of concrete and wood.

  The door was warped but it opened enough for them to slip through.

  Before the attack, the stairwell opened into a wide, long hallway with swirling gray marble floors. The hallway wasn’t far from the main foyer.

  It was hard to even discern a floor, there was so much rubble around them. Like walking a maze, they navigated around the fallen beams and mounds of destruction. While the building was technically still standing, it had become a mere skeleton of what it was.

  Their journey from the basement to the outside was a quiet one.

  It was daylight, but the sky was heavily overcast, and everything had a gray feel to it. The temperature outside had plummeted, and the streets were quiet.

  No one was around. Not a soul. Not a sound.

  Whatever hit Cleveland left it virtually unrecognizable. There were no discerning landmarks, nor reference of direction.

  Harris stated, almost in shock, “Just go right. Make a right. I always turned right when I walked out of the building.”

  “Then what?” Marissa asked.

  “Then we keep going in hopes we get a sense of direction.”

  “So, does this mean we’re sticking together?” Marissa questioned.

  “Just until we get out of the city.”

  Toby couldn’t believe that was such a concern for Marissa. If Harris wanted to be on his own, then that was fine with Toby. It was his loss not theirs.

  But how could either one of them even think about anything else but what had happened to Cleveland?

  The broken buildings were not the extent of it. Everything was black. Soot and grime covered everything. The amount of charred bodies matched the degree of rubble. They scattered about everywhere, under concrete, curled in balls, some tossed to the side and some in pieces. Frozen in time, instantly burnt to a crisp. They weren’t the only human remains. There were the remains forever embedded on any wall left standing, Another horrific testament to the human loss. The force of the bombs was so strong they not only incinerated the people, they created a photograph of them, in the form of a shadow on the wall.

  Toby had seen pictures of such an event when it happened in Hiroshima. He always wondered what it was. A burn mark, ashes, rem
ains?

  He had to know.

  Pausing, Toby reached out to a wall and trailed his fingers on the image of a head. After he rolled his fingers together, there was nothing on them and the image hadn’t smeared.

  It was all that remained of person who, a little more than a week earlier, had a life, a family. Now they were a mere etched-in-stone image and a gruesome historical marking.

  The goal was to get out of the city, to the outskirts, where hopefully there would be people and help.

  Slowly and surely, with very few words between them, they did their best to get from the circumference of ground zero Cleveland.

  Swall, CA – San Joaquin Valley

  The pump was doing its job, but Joe only ran it a small amount of time per day. Despite the chic discrete design boasted by Mike’s Well Service, it still let out a racket when it was really rolling. It was one of four on his property and the best producing well he had. He kept the pump in a small well house that looked more like a taller dog house.

  The other wells, he didn’t bother hiding their production, but this one he did. It was his supply well. Each day he’d run it during the late morning, load a bunch of gallon containers in his truck and drive the quarter mile across his property to the canning operations building.

  Outside it looked like a newer barn, and inside was where Joe’s workers made his trademark Fat Joe tomatoes.

  It was quiet in there. Not a single employee or piece of machinery was running. A few hours earlier it was noisy. Joe was producing a carton of canned goods. Cook the tomatoes, jar them, seal them, and stick them in a box. After he finished, he shut down, cleaned up, and aired the place out.

  It had become his new daily routine. Canning and then water.

  He was just about finished with that before heading out to the fields.